Approx. 1300 words; 6.5 minutes read time
I imagine there are writers out there who get it right every time. Those capable wordsmiths belt out a perfect story with scarcely an error. For these demigods, the first draft is the best, so off to the printers.
I can assure you that this isn't me. I have writing blind spots.
For the longest time, I've joked that I intentionally put mistakes in my writing. You know, to look more human. But truth be told, I make spelling and grammatical errors all the time. No amount of proofreading helps me catch every one1. These mistakes are sometimes embarrassing, like when I misspell a word. They can also be defeating when I cannot convey what I am thinking.
Frequently blind spots slow me down. Take, for example, the word "it's." I have to think a moment each time to remember to use "it's" as a contraction and "its" when it's possessive. And since we're on it, how many "s's" does possessive have anyway? Just as many as Mississippi it turns out. Yes, simple spellings can throw me off too. Sometimes a word I've written a gazillion times looks wrong, even when it's not.
Thinking about my writing is a window into the quirks and shortcomings of my mind.
I also struggle with word selection. Seemingly obvious word choices I belabor over intensively. Or is it I belabor over intensely? I better go research that. See you in five minutes2.
A rather troublesome blind spot I have is in repeating words unnecessarily. Sometimes doing so is stylistically okay, like in a story on blind spots – I will inevitably use "blind spot" numerous times. But other times it is extraneous and simply poor editing. This repetition seems to creep in as if my mind suffers micro-amnesia moments. From sentence to sentence, I can't manage to remember that I just used a word. Yes, a funny thing the mind3.
A case in point: My post on manifestos. Perhaps you noticed the note I made on February 8th, where I felt obliged to share, "Second to the last paragraph was slightly edited for clarity on 2020.02.08. ~JRC."
Here's the previously posted version of that paragraph, the repeated word in bold:
"Now, I should say that I don't recommend sharing a first draft manifesto with anyone but a therapist. Sometimes this inner voice needs to learn how to behave on the outside first. No, better to get it out in the privacy of one's own laptop or pad of paper first. Step away for a few hours or days and then revisit."
Grammatically this is fine. But stylistically, it is jarring. I remember reading this right before posting and feeling that something was off. But I was so into it at the time that I couldn't see the mistake.
All this exposition gets me to the biggest blind spot of all – my writing ego.
The thing is, I loved both this paragraph and its footnote where I coined the term "manifesto halfway house." I thought I was being clever in equating a draft manifesto to a newly reformed criminal. I loved the paragraph so much that I couldn't see the mistake. So I proudly let it go, out into the world, flaws and all. My ego was dominating. And being so full of it, I simply couldn't see. And then, upon finding it after posting, I just couldn't let it go. So I went back to edit it4.
Errors notwithstanding, the manifesto piece was pretty good. I liked it, and doing the research helped me learn about something new. A few others said they liked it too. I have to remember this, and remember it is only a blog, not an expertly edited novel. Blogs are places where ideas are shared – even half baked, error-filled ones. So what's the big deal?
The big deal is, at best, errors look sloppy. They can detract from an otherwise well-written piece. Just like a sloppy suit worn to a job interview, writing is judged not only in what is said but also in how it looks. And again like that interview, all the well-dressed pizazz won't hide a lack of substance. Errors that detract from meaning are like a job applicant that isn't qualified to do what he claims. It's in my best interest as a writer to continually improve my self-editing abilities.
Self-editing is challenging precisely because of blind spots. If we saw these quickly, they wouldn't likely occur. So self-editing is about finding ways around the snags and pitfalls of our minds.
One method I employ a lot is the time-tested approach of simply stepping away5. I often write something down and then step back, if only for a few minutes. When I return, I have fresh eyes. My mind has time to forget what I think I wrote and come back and read what I did write. I usually do this, although time constraints and self-imposed deadlines limit how much time I can invest.
I also read aloud what I write to check for mistakes and also to see how the story "feels." It's also fun - it reminds me of being a kid. We all started out reading this way but eventually trained ourselves to keep it in. It's an unexpected little joy to let it out. I've started to do so not just in editing but also when I read graphic novels. I even voice the emphases like "POW!" and "BANG!" Try it—pure joy.
Anyway, what does all this talk of blind spots and editing mean? Maybe it's that writing is as hard as it is fun. When it doesn't work, it can be demoralizing. But when it all comes together, it's like magic.
To find that magic more often than not, the best writers out there will encourage us to keep writing. They also tell us not to get caught up in what others think. If the story is worth sharing, a writer will find a way to share it. These sound like words of wisdom for not only writing but also life.
So here I am, wrapping up a blog post on writing blind spots. I wonder how many errors I missed. When I started this piece I began counting the times I used spell check, deleted repeated words, and fixed content errors6. I lost interest somewhere around "a lot" and completely gave up after "ridiculously too many." And that pretty well sums up the writing process for me. It's messy and convoluted. But oh-so-worth-it.
It's also an honor. Humans are the only creatures yet identified that can take internal thoughts and immortalize them in writing7. That's such an empowering concept for me and more than enough reason to improve continually.
Thank you for reading my words. I appreciate you.
Science. Fiction. Create.
JRC
1 This is the standard operating procedure for my emails: 1) Draft. 2) Proof read. 3) Hit send. 4) Read again. 5) Find mistakes. 6) Bang head on desk. ↩
2 A quick shout out to technology and the internet – researching and writing is ridiculously easier with word processing and Google. ↩
3 I even had to work hard on this paragraph, at first using “time” too frequently as well as writing “just” no fewer than three times – in a paragraph on using words too often! ↩
4 This too is quite telling. Ah, the ego. Such a sense of self-importance. ↩
5 Another time-honored method is to write drunk and edit sober. I don’t recommend this, however.↩
6 Yes, I actually counted. Not precisely, but I started a hash-mark tally and it quickly got out of hand.↩
7 Extraterrestrial aliens undoubtedly write and do all kinds of crazy things to get their thoughts out. Emphasis on only creatures yet identified. And since we are on it, yes, I am writing some sci-fi. Just a lot of background and foundational stuff to get out right now.↩