Sample Editing
The following HEAVY EDIT samples for NOVELS show before and after.
First edits. Once-through on paper.
The original work is double-spaced.
BEFORE
Denis Gessing
The only “good” thing to come from being locked up for the past year was that Maggie momentarily had forgotten about the potato blight. The great potato famine, as it was known. She was quickly reminded of it by the time she arrived home.
Over the year clans had left in droves for the promise of America. Between deaths resulting from the famine and emigration, Eire’s population had decreased by more than two million people. A pall fell over the isle where survival became the order of the day.
The house, once a warm home, was colder now than the stone floor of the convent chapel. Gone was the laughter, the music. While everything still looked the same, Maggie knew nothing was or ever would be the same again. Never again would the Rickity-Tickity-Man dance under the Magonigal roof. Her father was present in body only.
John Guffey
DRAMATIC SCENES
When a cowboy went on a trail drive they stored all their worldly possessions in the chuck wagon and tied everything else around his own saddle horn. He wore long johns, a cotton flannel shirt, and sometimes woolen pants. A deep-pocket vest stored tobacco, cigarette papers, matches, and tally hook. His boots were flat-heeled, rounded-toe. His chaps he wore protected his legs from brush, rope burns and weather. He was never without his broad brimmed hat, and a bandanna knotted around his neck. . . .
Darkness fell with an indication there were going to be stars in the sky and a full moon. The night air would be chilly though. Slowly the hours ticked away like a fuse on a stick of dynamite. From the hazy, darkened saloon lit only by one kerosene lamp hanging on the outside wall near the entrance door of the saloon and smaller lamps inside the building, men and women entered and exited the saloon. . . .
Surrounding the town of Valiant were the mountains, but a trail led up a hilly slope in a winding, zig zag fashion and then the two outlaws came up the trail Logan and Joshua surprised them.
“You men throw down your guns and get down off those horses.” Logan said sharply. They had allowed the two outlaws to ride up close to them. . . .
Fort Griffin, the small town to the west of Fort Worth, below the Indian depredation region of the Canadian River the cowboy capital of the west, was well supplied with saloons, gambling and dance halls, and bangnios. It had become the toughest town on the Texas frontier and sprawled over a flat at the foot of a hill. It’s main street led away from the army fort to The Clear Fork of The Brazos and was often filled with wagons drawn by oxen and horses and was either dusty or muddy depending on the time of the year.
Further, the air was often filled with whoops and hollers conducted by cowboys, off duty soldiers, hide-hunters and Tonkawa Indians.
Also, the saloons were frequently the scenes of brawls, or killings and were gamblers made a living from disgruntled hide-hunters and cowboys, who were often cheated out of their hard earned money in the back rooms.
Not only in the back rooms however, but in the streets, the soiled doves, as the ladies were called by the frontiersmen, flaunted their charms and lured customers to their flimsy bedrooms.
A damp chill hung over Fort Griffen. . . .
Alderin Ordell
The Ghosts of Stonewall
I looked up at my rear view mirror and saw flashing red lights. Instantly my stomach felt like it was going to cave in. I realized it was the highway patrol so I looked around the side of the highway for a safe place to pull over. In a blurry second I was parked and sizing up a large, familiar cop walking toward me.
I knew I didn’t do anything wrong and I was immediately upset. There was so much traffic on this Friday afternoon there was hardly any room to speed. I didn’t make any sudden lane changes, tailgate the car in front of me, or even flip-off the driver who had cut me off a mile back who most certainly deserved it. I was just trying to lay low and avoid some of the late 1960’s agitation gripping this city. I was just trying to get home to Dustin who I knew was already cursing my name for being late yet again.
I looked at the cop again and saw he was angry and it was then I recognized who he was. I had seen his scowl many times before. I had heard him curse Dustin’s name so much his voice reverberated in my nightmares. Suddenly, thoughts of getting home on time were replaced by thoughts of getting out of the situation safely.
The officer tapped on my window so I quickly rolled it down. I was met by an intense glare and I made a silent decision to be as agreeable as I could although it wasn’t in my nature.
“License and registration,” Officer Leon demanded.
I looked up to the gray haired, thick bearded and overweight officer. “What’s the problem?” I asked him.
Officer Leon seemed very irritated by my voice and barked, “Just give me your paper work.”
I fumbled through my wallet, terrified my cards weren’t there, and then sighed in relief when I saw them behind a photo of my sister. I handed them to Officer Leon and he snatched them from my hand and walked back to his patrol car.
As I waited for him to come back I was frozen in anticipation. I felt dread. The way the officer looked at me…it was if I wasn’t even there. It was like he saw me as an object, like an ugly painting, and when he looked at me, he looked right past me.
Officer Leon came back, “Jaime Harper, huh?”
“Yeah, that’s me.”
As if he didn’t know.
“Your license plate light is flickering. You need to get it fixed.” He handed me a fix-it ticket.
“Don’t I get a warning for this?” I asked, immediately wishing I hadn’t. Officer Leon’s expression exploded out of a scowl into rage.
“Are you trying to play smart with me you little faggot?”
I was taken back. “No… I…”
“Don’t talk to me! I don’t want to hear your whinny, sissy voice.”
I withdrew and began staring at my steering wheel as if there was some safety to be found there.
“I’ve got my eye on you…” he continued. “You better realize that. I’ve arrested your buddy Dustin too many times now down at the Stonewall Inn. I’m tired of wasting my time with you people.”
Officer Leon kept staring at me, cutting me with his eyes. I just kept staring at my wheel, frozen.
“You know what?” he said. “I’ve had enough of this. It’s time to send a message to Dustin. Why don’t you take this home for me?”
Officer Leon grabbed his night stick, still it its holster and rammed it up into the side of my mouth. My steering wheel jolted away from my vision and a black pulsating cave filled with blurred colors replaced my field of vision. I tasted blood and reached my hand up to stop it.
“Take that back to Dustin and tell him to stay away from Stonewall!”
I moaned in pain.
“Oh, shut up! Shut up or I’ll hit you again! Shut the fuck up!”
I swallowed my pain, my emotions, and my blood and desperately tried not to make noise. Officer Leon studied me for a moment, probably to make sure I wasn’t going to make anymore noise.
“You really should leave this city, Jaime Harper. I’m tired of deviants polluting our social atmosphere. I’m tired of tax-payers money being used to process you butt-fuckers through our jails. I’m tired of our children, my children, having to grow up in a world with predators like you. Now run on home to Dustin. Maybe this time he’ll get the message.”
Officer Leon walked away from my car and soon left. It took me ten minutes or more before I was able to drive. My head was throbbing and my mouth was still bleeding. When I finally had my bearings, I headed home again but it wasn’t long until I realized I was holding something in my hand. I opened my hand and glanced down and saw one half of one of my front teeth, broken from the impact of the holster.
I was shocked. My tooth had always just sort of been there in my mouth, it looked really out of place sitting in my palm. I didn’t know what to do with it so I just held on to it. My head continued to throb and I knew I shouldn’t have been driving but I didn’t want to pull over. Not again.
For five years the harassment had been getting worse but nothing like this. Dustin could make some sense out of what just happened. Dustin would take some of my pain away.
AFTER
Heavy edit once-thru on paper
Locked up for the year, Maggie had forgotten about the potato blight. But home again, the famine was real.
The clans had left Ireland in droves for America. Eire’s population decreased by two million. A pall had fallen over the island. Survival was the order of the day.
The house was colder than the stone floor of the convent chapel. Gone was the laughter. Gone the music. Nothing was the same. Her father was present in body only. No more Rickity-Tickity-Man dances under the Magonigal roof.
Heavy edit once-thru on paper
The mountains surrounded the town of Valiant, but a trail led up a hilly slope in a winding, zig-zag fashion. Logan and Joshua allowed the two outlaws to ride up close. Then as the men came up the trail, the lawmen surprised them.
Logan commanded, “You men throw down your guns and get down off those horses!” . . .
Fort Griffin, the small town to the west of Fort Worth, below the Indian depredation region of the Canadian River lay before them. The air was filled with the whoops and hollers of cowboys, off-duty soldiers, hide-hunters, and Tonkawa Indians. This cowboy capital of the west was well-supplied with saloons, gambling, dance halls, and bangnios. The saloons were frequently the scenes of brawls or killings. Gamblers made a living from the disgruntled hide-hunters and cowboys whom they often cheated in the back rooms out of their hard-earned money.
The “soiled doves,” ladies so-called by the frontiersmen, flaunted their charms and lured customers from the streets and saloon back-rooms to their flimsy bedrooms upstairs.
A damp chill hung over this toughest town on the Texas frontier, sprawled over a flat at the foot of a hill. The main street led away from the army fort to the Clear Fork of the Brazos. Wagons drawn by oxen and horses filled the muddy rutted road. . . .
Heavy edit once-thru on paper
chapter one, part one of four (2005-2010)
The flashing red lights in my rearview mirror made my stomach cave in. In the blurry second, I looked for a safe place to pull over, parked, and sized up the large cop walking toward me.
I hadn’t done anything wrong. With all the traffic on this Friday afternoon, there was no room to speed. I hadn’t made any sudden lane changes, tailgated, or flipped off any drivers. I was just trying to lay low.
The cop scowled at me. I’d seen his scowl many times before. He’d cursed Dustin’s name so often that it still reverberated in my nightmares. I was just trying to figure out how to get out of this safely.
The officer tapped on my window and glared at me. I rolled it down quickly, deciding to be agreeable.
“License and registration,” he demanded.
“What’s the problem?” I asked Officer Leon, a gray-haired, thick-bearded, overweight man in blue.
“Just give me your damn paper work,” he barked.
I fumbled through my wallet, and my cards weren’t there! With relief, I saw them behind my sister’s photo. Officer Leon snatched them from me and walked back to his patrol car. I waited in frozen anticipation. He looked at me as if I wasn’t there, an object, ugly, right past me.
He came back. “Jaime Harper, huh?”
“Yeah, that’s me.” As if he didn’t know.
“Your license-plate light is flickering. You need to get it fixed.” He handed me a “fix it” ticket.
“Don’t I get a warning?” I asked, immediately wishing I hadn’t countermanded him.
“Are you trying to play smart with me, you little faggot?”
“No … I … ”
“Don’t talk to me! I don’t want to hear your whinny, sissy voice.”
I shrank and stared at the steering wheel.
He scowled again. “I’ve got my eye on you. You better realize that. I’ve arrested your buddy, Dustin, too many times down at the Stonewall Inn, and I’m tired of wasting my time with you people.”
He kept cutting me with his eyes. I just stared at the steering wheel.
He started to walk away, then turned back. “You know what? I’ve had enough of this. It’s time to send a message.”
He pulled out his nightstick and rammed it through the window into my face. Black pulsed and colors blurred my vision. I tasted blood. I reached up to stop him, but it was too late. He struck me again.
“Take that! And stay away from Stonewall!”
I moaned. Pin-prick pain pierced my lips and mouth. My heart beat through my face. I moaned.
“Oh, shut up!” he shounted. “Shut up! Shut the fuck up!”
I swallowed blood, and he studied me.
“You should leave this city, Jaime Harper. I’m tired of you deviants polluting our atmosphere, taxpayer money being used to process you butt-fuckers through our jails. Tired of our children, my children, growing up in a world of predators like you. Now run on home to your sweetie.” He strode off and drove away.
At first I couldn’t drive. My head throbbed. My mouth bled.
When I finally had my bearings, I started the engine. As I drove, I realized something was in my hand. I opened my palm. A tooth.
I didn’t know what to do with the tooth so I just held onto it. My head ached ferociously. I knew I shouldn’t be driving, but I wasn’t going to stop again. I just wanted to get home. Dustin would take away my pain.
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