Writing Exercises

The Jungle: Editing Process

Thank you, as usual, to those who liked and appreciate this story. As I said in the last chapter, this is going to be a long rambley chapter about my editing process, and the final finished product of the story Jungle.

I know a lot of people have trouble editing their stories, and an even harder time finding the mistakes within their pieces. I usually start by writing a piece, and then putting a day or two between when I write and when I edit it. A clear mind is the first step in the process, and will help you find your mistakes or awkward sentences that may have sounded amazing the night before.

To show you what I am doing, I will bold what I am removing from the story, and italicize things that I will rephrase, and put a little asterisk in a place where I will add something completely new (and explain the change in parenthesis).

Then, I will send that product to a friend so that she can check for basic grammar and spelling mistakes that I KNOW I will miss. That might be the most important part of the process. Ask a friend who is equally good at writing and isn't afraid to tell you what went wrong. Constructive criticism can go a long way!

Jungle-Editing in Progress

There were days where life was a struggle. Where it was hard to even try to survive, when every minute was a danger in itself, another trap, another step closer to death.

Everything in this place tried to kill you. She was sure that for some* (creatures), it was a survival tactic. But for others, it was for fun. The plants with their large leaves, broad trunks, and vibrant colors obscured countless predators and things (monsters; things is juvenile) just waiting for a taste of her blood.

Already that day she had narrowly avoided getting attacked by a man-eating plant. She knew it was a man-eating plant because she had observed one of her companions (enemies?) getting devoured by it; slowly dissolved by a loud, bubbly acid as the plant locked him in its immobile jaws and gained a new taste for human *flesh.

New taste, indeed, because this area was obviously untouched by human hands. (Awkward phrase) It was so pure in its natural state that she almost felt bad for breaking leaves and crunching on unmentionables below. The only reason she felt no guilt was because she knew that the jungle would like nothing more than to kill her, to slowly, cruelly remove her from the area in tiny, painful bites. (personifying the jungle and making it evil, but after reading the rest of the passage, is this the point of the jungle? Nature getting back at the sudden, rough, intrusion of man onto its untouched secrets?)

You wouldn't automatically associate a jungle with death, she knew, if you were simply reading its name in a book or hearing it in passing. (AWKS) You would probably imagine with fascination: the exotic plants, the hot, humid environment. One more educated would think of the dangerous but beautiful beasts, the creepy, large insects on the forest floor, perhaps even the birds and monkeys that live at the canopy. *The Jungle was one of the most awe inspiring places on Earth.

But *to live living in it? Even the least intelligent human knew what an improbable feat that was for an outsider. How the deadly creatures could end you instantaneously, how your luck might run out and day after day you *could get *mercilessly attacked by nameless fiends or becomeing the potential for a juicy meal.

Yet here she found herself, on one of the least- preferred assignments. If you could call it an assignment. Assignment implied a willingness to be removed from the comforts of home to perhaps explore or study the land. No, this was forced upon her and every child her age in this new generation, this new horrible world.