This episode is all about self-editing: what is it, why do you need it, and what the heck does it encompass? What’s the point of self-editing if you can just ask an editor for help? Rebecca talks about that on this episode (hint: it’s critical to get another set of eyes on your writing, learning to self-edit can save you time later on because you’re growing your skills, can save you money, and can help you be more intentional with your goals). Listen to Rebecca talk about all the things she’d change in this story from season 1.
If you don’t already know, Rebecca is a writer and certified Story Grid editor who’s attended two McKee seminars, hosted workshops at Barnes and Noble, and self-published a nonfiction book on writing. She produces a podcast called A Story That Works and currently creates content for ROI Online. Her writing has been featured on Havok, Jane Friedman, The Creative Penn, and DIY MFA. She’s a pretty good crocheter, avid reader, amateur graphic designer, and loves traveling the world. Short story is currently her favorite medium for writing fiction. You can find out more at www.creativitythroughconstraints.com.
Things I mention on this episode:
Some of these links (marked with an *) are affiliate links, which means I earn a small commission if you click on and make a purchase from them. Your price doesn’t change either way.
- The Story Grid* by Shawn Coyne
- Story* by Robert McKee
- Jane Friedman: What Does it Mean to Write a Scene that Works?
- The Creative Penn: 6 Things to Consider Before Writing a Novel
- DIYMFA: 5 Reasons it’s Time to Call in an Editor and 5 Essentials for Every Scene
- Story Grid: Writing Scenes that Work; Our Writer’s vs Editor’s Brains; Analyzing a Masterwork: The Knife of Never Letting Go; How Reading Better Can Help You Write Better; What Does it Mean to Write, Read, and Live with Intention?; Writing Groups Might Be Terrible; From Initial Idea to Publishable Draft; Practical Steps to Improve Your Craft
- Fictionary: Creating a Strong Story
- My fiction is on https://gohavok.com/ which requires a subscription to read
- My book: The 30 Day Writing Challenge
Story From This Episode
The man, who was decidedly not Stuart Kregielman, smiled to himself as he floated around the anti-gravity chamber.
Everyone had said it was stupid to bring popsicles as his one and only personal item out to space. They said the frozen treat didn’t constitute something “personal” and that no one could guarantee someone else wouldn’t eat them all up before he even got one. But he was good at hiding things and had a knack for bringing more than he was allowed. After six years and countless repairs throughout the entire station, he’d learned where to put something you didn’t want to be found. That and other various skills that would be more or less useless when he quit this job to move on to the next. And he was due to quit soon.
The way the slush melted away from the stick, dripping off into its own floating blob of colored sugar water was enough to convince him he’d made the right decision.
“Paging Stuart Kregielman to the engine room. Stuart Kregielman you are needed for a repair in the engine room.”
He knew they were referring to him. After 6 years of being called the previous engineer’s name, he responded to it, considered himself part owner of the name, tried to live up to the title.
In fact, he was certain they’d call the next engineer by some version of his name as poetic justice of sorts, that he’d eventually be remembered and missed, but that was only because he didn’t want to consider the alternative.
Believing that everyone who took the engineering job on Station 12 was doomed to be confused with someone else for all eternity made sense in his mind. If he didn’t think about it too long.
“Stuart Kregielman to the engine room. Stuart Kregielman to the engine room.”
He slurped up the last of the sticky, red juice and put his uniform jacket back on. Even if it was his last stint on Station 12, he’d be damned if he were late to a job. Wouldn’t want to risk the next engineer’s reputation his name would bestow.
“Pretty sweet game last night, eh Stuart?” Joe asked as not-Stuart made his way to level 4.
Not-Stuart nodded in reply, slung his work bag higher on his shoulder, grunted.
“Stuart?” A little girl looked up to him, questioning. In her hand she held a broken toy, one not-Stuart recognized as a Lionel Robot xk12.
“Not my name.” He gave a gruff reply, walking faster toward the elevator.
She followed, silent.
The doors shut and he pushed the button for level 4. He waited for her to push her own button. She didn’t.
When the elevator opened to level 4, a level no child had any business being on, she got off and followed him as he made his way to the engine room. He thought about telling her to find her parents, but somehow knew she wouldn’t listen.
He passed through the doors using his security badge, and she snuck through behind him. An expert sleuth he already knew was shadowing his every move.
“Mr. Kregielman. You’re 3.6 seconds late. We have a bit of an emergency that needs your attention.” A voice from the loudspeaker crackled at him as they entered the engine room.
Figures they wouldn’t come meet me to talk through the problem.
“The thermostat regulator for levels 12-16 is acting up. It needs to be reset, inspected for issues, and recalibrated. We thank you to make this your top priority.”
He looked at one of the video cameras and gave a thumbs up.
“Oh, and Mr. Kregielman? We ask that you don’t bring your personal matters to work. We’ll have to doc you a few credits for the girl. See that she’s taken care of and removed from our secure facilities as soon as you’ve finished.”
Not-Stuart nodded, not looking at the camera this time. He knew he’d get flack for her, but what was he to do, physically restrain her from following him? He wasn’t sure he knew how. And definitely didn’t want that responsibility hanging over his head.
Without another word, not-Stuart got to work. He took apart the thermostat, carefully inspecting all pieces. Having replaced a faulty wire on another a couple weeks ago, he identified the problem in no time and switched out the parts.
The girl was silent the whole time. Not-Stuart had never seen a child so well behaved, so non-demanding of attention. Even the heat and loud noises of the engine room didn’t phase her.
He almost didn’t hear when she asked, “What’s your name?”
“Makes you so sure you can’t just call me Stuart?” He finished up the calibration and dropped the rest of his tools into his bag, slung it over his shoulder, and turned to go.
“You don’t like it.”
He paused not sure how she knew that. Considered the buzzing fluorescent light overhead and looked down at the girl clutching her broken toy. “Come with me.”
She fell into step behind him, once more silent.
Together they walked to the anti-grav chamber, stopping along the way to pick up a couple popsicles from one of his many hiding places. “Don’t go telling anyone these are here.”
She nodded solemnly and he knew she could keep his secret.
Not-Stuart left his bag and jacket outside the chamber. The girl refused to leave her toy unattended. They floated inside, the big windows giving them a perfect view of the stars.
“What are we doing here?” The girl tried to watch not-Stuart, but she bounced around the chamber from one end to the next trying to hold in her giggles.
He took out the popsicles and unwrapped them, put the trash in its disposal on the wall. He floated over to her, careful to put the stick in her hand and demonstrated his favorite techniques to eat in zero gravity. The popsicles slowly melted and the two floated around the room trying to catch the sugared slush before it hit the walls or escaped their grasp.
The girl squealed in delight, letting Lionel slip from her grasp as she slurped up the sticky goo. Not-Stuart quickly ate his own, ignoring his own rituals, and picked up the broken robot. He tinkered away with the few spare parts he kept in his pockets.
When she finished, she looked up at him, smile twice its normal size. “That was fun.”
“Sure was, kid.” He handed back Lionel as they exited the chamber, grabbed his jacket and work bag, ready to attend to his next appointment.
She looked at him, eyes big. “Thank you …?”
“Name’s Stanley, kid. You can call me Stan.”
“Stan.” She skipped off, hand-in-hand with Lionel beeping out at her. His own smile hardly contained even when Joe caught up to ask “Stuart” for a favor.