Yahoo Canada News reports on a 19 page manuscript for an unfinished work by Theodore Geisl aka Dr. Seuss going up for auction.
An included letter from Dr. Seuss to his assistant makes for interesting reading. Seuss was displeased with the work, and especially the main character, Pete. In the letter, he explains why ne never seriously pursued its publication. “What, in my opinion, is wrong with this story is that…despite the greatness of Pete as a stellar athlete hero…the negative image of him flubbing and unable to catch any ball at all will make him schnook… And I think the reader’s reaction will be, ‘What’s the matter with this dope?'”
The L.A. Times points out that it may have been this bit of self-editing on the part of Seuss that set him apart. Clearly, he was good enough to know that not everything he wrote was worthy of his name
And that is the mark of a quality writer, isn’t it? Not everything is worth disseminating to the world! The ability to filter and to edit is crucial to ensure excellence. For the beginning writer, each word is like gold. It is so much work to get them on the page that you become attached to them. To be asked to edit, that is, to re-think, to re-vision, to re-word, to re-phrase, or to just cut something right out– well, it is like cutting off a piece of your body. (A piece you like and want, not something like a gangrenous foot, but something like your nose). In time however, we may see that the thing we like IS eating away at our manuscript, making it less than it should be, and like gangrene or a cancer, it must be cut out.
On the other hand, sometimes pain is good for us. It may cause us a sense of loss to see our perfect prose slashed through with blue pencil, but a re-read a safe distance away in time, and the improvements are undeniable. Sometimes we must let go to find the stronger writer within us.
Meg Tilley told me once during a blue pencil session that she saves the words by putting them at the back of the manuscript. She finds it comforting to know they’re still around until she’s completely secure that it’s right to let them go. I don’t do that. I have complete copies of the manuscript saved, so a session of cutting and slicing doesn’t bother me. After a rest to let the words lose their holy status, I approach the edit with verve. When I’m sure it’s time for the words to go, I am free slice them off with impunity. I find it cathartic, actually. I like the 10% per edit rule, and it works. Subsequent readings move more and more smoothly.
But before there are the fine word by word edits, there are the concept edits. There are those stories that seem like good ideas at the time. We get started, have a few hundred pages invested and then it is obvious that this just isn’t going to be what it needs to be. Like Seuss did with Pete the Athlete, sometimes we have to bid farewell to characters that don’t have what it takes to bring readers to care about their problem, if indeed they have one. Every story needs a conflict or there is no point in reading. Jocks like Pete are only legends in their own minds. Good call Dr. Sorry Pete.
Shawn L. Bird 
Write this and that, but skip the crap! October 27, 2010
Tags: Dr Seuss, editing, writing
Yahoo Canada News reports on a 19 page manuscript for an unfinished work by Theodore Geisl aka Dr. Seuss going up for auction.
And that is the mark of a quality writer, isn’t it? Not everything is worth disseminating to the world! The ability to filter and to edit is crucial to ensure excellence. For the beginning writer, each word is like gold. It is so much work to get them on the page that you become attached to them. To be asked to edit, that is, to re-think, to re-vision, to re-word, to re-phrase, or to just cut something right out– well, it is like cutting off a piece of your body. (A piece you like and want, not something like a gangrenous foot, but something like your nose). In time however, we may see that the thing we like IS eating away at our manuscript, making it less than it should be, and like gangrene or a cancer, it must be cut out.
On the other hand, sometimes pain is good for us. It may cause us a sense of loss to see our perfect prose slashed through with blue pencil, but a re-read a safe distance away in time, and the improvements are undeniable. Sometimes we must let go to find the stronger writer within us.
Meg Tilley told me once during a blue pencil session that she saves the words by putting them at the back of the manuscript. She finds it comforting to know they’re still around until she’s completely secure that it’s right to let them go. I don’t do that. I have complete copies of the manuscript saved, so a session of cutting and slicing doesn’t bother me. After a rest to let the words lose their holy status, I approach the edit with verve. When I’m sure it’s time for the words to go, I am free slice them off with impunity. I find it cathartic, actually. I like the 10% per edit rule, and it works. Subsequent readings move more and more smoothly.
But before there are the fine word by word edits, there are the concept edits. There are those stories that seem like good ideas at the time. We get started, have a few hundred pages invested and then it is obvious that this just isn’t going to be what it needs to be. Like Seuss did with Pete the Athlete, sometimes we have to bid farewell to characters that don’t have what it takes to bring readers to care about their problem, if indeed they have one. Every story needs a conflict or there is no point in reading. Jocks like Pete are only legends in their own minds. Good call Dr. Sorry Pete.
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