Photo © KostyaKlimenko. For this post, I tried creating an AI image from CoPilot. So awful. Real ones = much better. Gots to have floof.

Sometimes things are meant to happen. My computer started acting up…little things over time. Bang! BitLocker error. I was pretty sure it was toast, so—three days before Christmas, I was off to the office supply store and bought a new laptop.

The sales clerk hovered while I made my decision between two. I mentioned I had a BitLocker error. He launched into a spiel about how he’s fixed many BitLocker errors (probably $200+). I politely told him if I needed the help, I would come back. And if I thought it was fixable, I would have. Then he told me he could do the install (no doubt another $200), and I finally told him, “I work in the IT department.” I’ve always troubleshooted my own problems first. If I go to Plan B, it’s not an easy fix. New computer took 90 minutes to set up, old computer was indeed toast.

Sometimes you have to stop fixing and start with new. Like fixing writing process instead of taking the harder path of a new writing process. Here, it’s moving edits.              

What Moving Edits Are (and Aren’t)

Moving edits is my term because there is no official term. Some writers do it; some never do it. The first writer I saw talk about it was Wen Spencer; she referenced in an old blog post as smoothing out the sheets. If I read between the lines of Nora Roberts’ process, she does a version herself. Dean Wesley Smith called it “cycling,” though his version has very specific rules.

Online culture drives writers to follow “rules” of someone else’s process instead of finding your own. Which is challenging and can take years. Moving edits gets caught in the middle of that. Unlike plot or setting, there is no official definition. The result has been writers defining it themselves and demanding other writers follow the definition—even if it doesn’t work.

Whatever you call it, it’s a tool used to write a story in one draft. Instead of fixing major issues on revision, you fix them as your story evolves. Great for pantsers, and probably why it’s not discussed widely, or even has a name.

Where I Went Wrong

I started using it naturally almost as long as I’ve been writing. I’d go back and tweak something. I found it lent itself to procrastination, especially on my first attempt at a novel. When I got stuck—and there was a big sticking point—I moved back and “fixed” the story. I thought that would solve the sticking point, but it never did.

So I had to reel it in quite a bit, make some rules. You know, things like I couldn’t fix things “just because.” Unfortunately, it’s easy to tell yourself that you’re making progress on the story when all you’re doing is rearranging the deck chairs on the Titanic.

I stopped doing it for a while because other writers called “Revising as you write.” I thought I shouldn’t be doing it, but it caused poor drafts that required massive revision because my thought processes are rather messy. So I returned to doing it.

Cycling became the popular kid for a while, probably because indie writing was about getting stories out fast, fast, fast. Now, indie is shifting from production to craft, so that may make cycling fall to the wayside eventually (my Futuristic is making predictions). But with cycling came “rules”; there was exactly one method that you were prescribed to follow. Reactions of other writers to my not following the “rules” kind of soured me on it.

So during the Author Nation conference session on updating your writing process, I wrote down one of the targets: Moving edits. I wanted to know whether I could eliminate it.

There were several problems with how I did it:

Fixing craft issues

I’ve mentioned previously that I’ve had a terrible time figuring out how to do story structure. There just isn’t anything for pantsers. Just some hand-wavy stuff and advice to outline.

The result is that I kept doing moving edits because I instinctively felt that the story was off, but I couldn’t figure out how to fix it.

Fixing typos

I always used it to fix typos. I’m a typo-making machine. If I went back to Chapter 2 to add a line of foreshadowing, I went through the chapter for typos as well.

Too much time

The result of the above eats up time. It also can invite procrastination because it feels productive when it may not be.

Once I understood where the problems were, it allowed my Intellection to do some intellecting on the problem. This is the workflow I’ve evolved into doing…

My New Workflow

I’m ignoring the typos. I have several forms of AI that can track them down for me. No need to waste my time fixing them as I go along. This is hard because it’s such a habit, and people are stupid about typos. I’ve had people do drive-bys, jeering because they caught a writer making a typo. Never mind there are a whole lot of businesses that can’t figure out apostrophes…

The whole chapter is considered part of the creation. It doesn’t matter whether I’m typing the next sentence at the end of the chapter or typing it after the first few lines. So I write wherever my muse takes me (my muse is a Golden Retriever, by the way).

Like in my current chapter, I’ve been doing a month of opening the file first thing in the morning (rather than email or watching the news). I had finished the last chapter the previous day, so I had a new chapter to start. I typed the first sentence. Then I had to stop to think about the rest of the scene and consult with what should be in Chapter 4 in the Plot Module. Mostly there, I read the section, put it away, and do the writing. I need both a smidgeon of structure and to think for myself.

I returned to the chapter the next day or two (traffic has been so bad my brain’s been fried this week). Just had the character change clothes. Since I’m thinking where he needs to be, moved him to that location. But I didn’t do some setup needed because my brain sometimes jumps ahead to the thing that will be going on and skips other things that are important in connecting action / reaction in the story.

What I Thought vs. What Was Actually Wrong

So I bounce all over the chapter as I write. Once it feels settled, I hit AutoCrit for an AI analysis. AutoCrit started out as a grammar program and now has a developmental editor that’s very good. For me it doesn’t catch anything big; instead, it’s things that aren’t obvious to me:

• Magic rules, magic rules, magic rules. This is a continual flag every single time my main character uses magic. Usually a single sentence addition, but I’m having to shift my brain to think about what I need to add. Big learning process. I think that’s my Adaptability speaking. Just wants to go with the flow—wait, there are rules?!
• Missing pieces of information. This is also usually a single sentence to connect two parts together. Without the sentence, it looks like I goofed things up continuity-wise. Yet, I look at those sections and can’t see that.
• And setting. Of course. Mainly, it’s adding another sentence or two. AutoCrit flagged my opening and thought I needed to add more signs of animal life.
• Authorial exposition: I was surprised to see this one. It had to do with a scene where I was trying to hide a piece of information. I had to go back to it twice because I couldn’t keep any of the things in there without crossing into this territory. So I ended up calling attention to the thing I wanted to hide, then used a sleight of hand.

Cycling focuses primarily on adding more setting. My moving edits have been, in hindsight, more about trying to fix what I thought needed to be fixed. Looking at the above list, what I thought was a problem and what actually was were two different things!

Of course, when we rely on other people to tell us how to do things, we get their version of what they need, and may miss what we need. If we are to survive as creatives, we cannot rely on someone else’s “method.” Using someone else’s rules did me no favors, and I had to take a hard look at what worked for my brain so I could get back into the flow.