Editing

So, what did I miss?

"Titles", anyone?

Status
Not open for further replies.
I've got a HCS battle-ready twisted-hilt broadsword (in pawn) — and another HCS gladius, with my parents back in Michigan.

Nice to know they at least will be able to fend off zombies. I'll have to break into Famous Pawn when the Outbreak goes down to get mine back. And I wouldn't have preferred the gladius against zombies, anyway.
Actually, I would recommend the Shaolin spade, pictured below:

View attachment 934

I just have regular old ballistic weapons, but I live in Texas sooo... (In regards to the picture...I came to Texas from Alabama - via Oklahoma - and I thought there were plenty of guns in both of those places. I was oh so wrong. Texas is saturated with them. Saturated, I say!)

280a584e2fc19009ae5c7bf42247ddc4.jpg


I have always wanted a Katana, though I doubt my wife will approve of any such weapon in the house.
 
Last edited:
I just have regular old ballistic weapons, but I live in Texas sooo... (In regards to the picture...I came to Texas from Alabama - via Oklahoma - and I thought there were plenty of guns in both of those places. I was oh so wrong. Texas is saturated with them. Saturated, I say!)

280a584e2fc19009ae5c7bf42247ddc4.jpg


I have always wanted a Katana, though I doubt my wife will approve of any such weapon in the house.
You could always have a friend pretend to be a burglar, to demonstrate the necessity of household weapons!
 
I have a veritable arsenal of bladed weapons...they just happen to be garden tools...3 machetes, a sickle, a hoe sharpened enough to take toes off...The most dangerous one, though is a little pair of secateurs on which outside edges of the blades are sharpened into knives. Three times, I stuck that thing to the bone in my hand before I learned...

But, of course, the most deadly weapon we have here at the house (I even hesitate to say we own this...we could find the Armed Offenders Squad at the door if word got out...) is a set of bagpipes. Hahahaha! I defy even a Texan to possess such a weapon!
 
When I first edited my first novel, I noted a word or two that I used excessively (not any of the usual ones), and there was a different word in novel #2 that was overabundant. I'm wondering if there are any tools out there that will scan your MS and list your most commonly used words--would make finding those problem words easier. Anyone know of one? (This is where someone tells me that the program I currently use has a great tool that I didn't know about, and I feel silly for not checking... ;) )

Pages (Apple's version of Word) has a lovely feature called Show Find and Replace. All you have to do is type in the word you're looking for and not only will it highlight each use, it counts it usage and then directs you to the specific article.

I don't use Word, if I can help it, but I would imagine they have something similar ... surely?
 
Pages (Apple's version of Word) has a lovely feature called Show Find and Replace. All you have to do is type in the word you're looking for and not only will it highlight each use, it counts it usage and then directs you to the specific article.

I don't use Word, if I can help it, but I would imagine they have something similar ... surely?

Now we just need to find the tool that specifies the repetitive words. It's kind of reverse to the above tool where the words are unknown.
 
Now we just need to find the tool that specifies the repetitive words. It's kind of reverse to the above tool where the words are unknown.

I would trust to instincts for the moment (until such an "application" is created). I find as I review stuff something niggles and it's usually repetition or grammar errors etc ...

Use the farce.
 
If ever attacked, pretending to be mad can work a treat. Or ill. A friend was once mugged in a subway in Leicester by two men. He hurled himself down and faked a fit. Logically, that should have made him easy pickings, but people really don't like strangeness and they ran off. He genuinely did suffer from quite bad epilepsy and just for once, his knowledge served him well.
 
We once ran an outdoor framing competition. You made a frame out of whatever was lying around and placed it in your position of choice. People looked through your frame and awarded points for whatever it was that they saw. It was this this exercise that convinced me of the existence of parallel universes.
 
If ever attacked, pretending to be mad can work a treat. Or ill. A friend was once mugged in a subway in Leicester by two men. He hurled himself down and faked a fit. Logically, that should have made him easy pickings, but people really don't like strangeness and they ran off. He genuinely did suffer from quite bad epilepsy and just for once, his knowledge served him well.

Very good tip. Wish i had done something like that when i was mugged at 16/17 years. Unfortunately my gold chain and pearl ring gifted to me from my mother were snatched but luckily i wasn't hurt just shaken. Lots of what ifs die down eventually.
 
Am taking final look at a manuscript that is coming out in April. I wrote first draft years ago, had beta-reader go through with fine tooth-comb, then second draft and third. I sent it off, and it was rejected a good deal then, so I saved it on my cloud and forgot about it. Came across it last spring, re-read, re-drafted, re-submitted. It found a home, and now it has been edited by chief editor, me, then two secondary readers, then editor again, then me and then editor will take final final look to clean it up. I'm seeing things that need tweaking throughout and extremely relieved to see that all the readers keep picking up on things that I just didn't notice, e.g. four uses of 'back' in the same paragraph (as preposition) and continuity issues like the way my character's clothes changed when he was in the same place in two different chapters. Makes me realise how easy it is to send a book that isn't ready out there.
 
If ever attacked, pretending to be mad can work a treat. Or ill. A friend was once mugged in a subway in Leicester by two men. He hurled himself down and faked a fit. Logically, that should have made him easy pickings, but people really don't like strangeness and they ran off. He genuinely did suffer from quite bad epilepsy and just for once, his knowledge served him well.
I always carry a folding knife in my back pocket, and a metal pipe in my car, for sort of the same reason. Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. You don't have to be burglar-proof; you just have to be the most complicated car to steal on the street, the hardest house to break into on the block, and look like it would be more dangerous to try to mug you than the next passerby. I look everyone in the eye as they walk past, smile, and say hello. Just walk in a straight line, move slowly, and don't stop for anything in your way. Sidewalks will part around you, and people start to wonder why you're not afraid of them, and back off. You'd be surprised how often someone has asked me to walk them through shady parts of town.
 
Ha! That reminds me...Once I was waiting for a bus in Panama City in a rough neighborhood ('cause that's where all poor Peace Corps Volunteers stayed when we went to the city--$5/night hotel!). A HUGE man came stalking down the sidewalk toward me--he made my 6-foot 3-in husband look tiny. His face was crisscrossed with scars, his eyes were bloodshot, and he scowled at me. Came right up into my personal space and stared. Little 'ol 5-foot two me smiled and chirped "Buenos dias!" while my mind raced. There were plenty of people around but no one in their right minds would try to tackle this guy. My smile obviously confused him--he stopped and blinked. I returned his stare. In the distance, a policeman noticed and began sauntering over, billy club in hand. The last thing I wanted was police involvement--I'd heard enough stories to know I'd be in as much trouble from a policeman as from the brute in front of me.
Thankfully, I was rescued by the little old lady selling lottery tickets nearby. She (all 4-feet of her) grabbed her umbrella and started whacking the guy about the head, scolding him like a little boy. He slunk off under her barrage. She straightened her skirts, and calmly went back to her lottery tickets.
 
I always carry a folding knife in my back pocket, and a metal pipe in my car, for sort of the same reason. Better to have it and not need it than to need it and not have it. You don't have to be burglar-proof; you just have to be the most complicated car to steal on the street, the hardest house to break into on the block, and look like it would be more dangerous to try to mug you than the next passerby. I look everyone in the eye as they walk past, smile, and say hello. Just walk in a straight line, move slowly, and don't stop for anything in your way. Sidewalks will part around you, and people start to wonder why you're not afraid of them, and back off. You'd be surprised how often someone has asked me to walk them through shady parts of town.
Okay but for real though. This is good. Since I'm a chick and that by default raises my "she looks like an easy target" index, I try to carry a pocket knife with me as well. For times when I forget or in places I can't carry a knife, I've already thought about a substitute. I am MEGA paranoid, partly because I have to be and partly because that's my character. I'm just a paranoid person. If I see someone acting suspicious around me (whatever that may mean), I'm taking in what they look and sound like. When I'm walking/running outside by myself, I'm on high alert. Y'all should have seen me on our visit to Dublin. No matter the time of day or part of town, I was checking behind us every hundred yards or so. Almost to the point of being ridiculous. But you better believe I was aware of each and every person that passed us or casually strolled behind.
 
Ha! That reminds me...Once I was waiting for a bus in Panama City in a rough neighborhood ('cause that's where all poor Peace Corps Volunteers stayed when we went to the city--$5/night hotel!). A HUGE man came stalking down the sidewalk toward me--he made my 6-foot 3-in husband look tiny. His face was crisscrossed with scars, his eyes were bloodshot, and he scowled at me. Came right up into my personal space and stared. Little 'ol 5-foot two me smiled and chirped "Buenos dias!" while my mind raced. There were plenty of people around but no one in their right minds would try to tackle this guy. My smile obviously confused him--he stopped and blinked. I returned his stare. In the distance, a policeman noticed and began sauntering over, billy club in hand. The last thing I wanted was police involvement--I'd heard enough stories to know I'd be in as much trouble from a policeman as from the brute in front of me.
Thankfully, I was rescued by the little old lady selling lottery tickets nearby. She (all 4-feet of her) grabbed her umbrella and started whacking the guy about the head, scolding him like a little boy. He slunk off under her barrage. She straightened her skirts, and calmly went back to her lottery tickets.
That's awesome! This must have been amazing to watch. And terrifying to experience.

I think I've told this story before — a friend of mine went to Chicago to visit a long-distance girlfriend (before subsequently breaking up with her and ending up moving to Chicago afterward, anyway), and a man tripping on drugs pulled a knife on the two of them and started swinging it around while gibbering. Jeff walked up and told the guy that he had his back to the edge of the platform and if he didn't **** off he was going to shove him onto the third rail and electrocute him. The man ran off.

But Jeff also got his skull fractured trying to fight fourteen men at once in a strip club in West Virginia (one of which armed with a flashlight), because the bartender watered down his drink so Jeff shoved him in the face. So...
 
Okay but for real though. This is good. Since I'm a chick and that by default raises my "she looks like an easy target" index, I try to carry a pocket knife with me as well. For times when I forget or in places I can't carry a knife, I've already thought about a substitute. I am MEGA paranoid, partly because I have to be and partly because that's my character. I'm just a paranoid person. If I see someone acting suspicious around me (whatever that may mean), I'm taking in what they look and sound like. When I'm walking/running outside by myself, I'm on high alert. Y'all should have seen me on our visit to Dublin. No matter the time of day or part of town, I was checking behind us every hundred yards or so. Almost to the point of being ridiculous. But you better believe I was aware of each and every person that passed us or casually strolled behind.
Maybe it's colored by what I know of you, but if I was a shady type I wouldn't mess with you, Nicole. I would be like,
"She totally knows Krav Maga."

I know what you mean about not having a knife sometimes — I have carbon-composite "brass knuckles" for passing metal detectors, but I've plain forgotten my knife if another pair of pants before, and thought "well now is when it's all going to go down..." Luckily there are glass beer bottles all over the sidewalks around here.
 
Knew I had your number.

You and me. We're like, "oh so they want to rob me do they? Why can't you just stab them in the eyes? Or shove them through a plate-glass window? Like, problem solved."
 
I have a lot of problems being a consistent writer--mainly that of just not sitting down to write whenever I can. My university education focused around literature and writing and even grammar, but I find when I sit down to edit what I have written I have, I dunno, anxiety I guess. What if I'm just not proficient enough in editing to ever get my work to a point that people don't think I'm a rank amateur? I am a member here and Scribophile where there are peer critiques, but then I'm anxious about getting bad advice. In the end, I guess it just comes down to writing and learning, but sometimes it just feels like a Herculean task.
 
Status
Not open for further replies.

So, what did I miss?

"Titles", anyone?

Back
Top