What do you do when you’ve finished the first draft of a story?
What do you specifically look for when editing and how do you make the changes?
Let’s discuss and practice!
During the last stream, a subscriber requested that we write edit a story that we’ve written before, the “Joe-latinous” story.
If you’ve never seen it before, here’s the original:
All hail Joe-latinous!
The grand Joe-latinous himself was wheeled in on a dolly cart the size of a rhinoceros, to plop behind the judging desk for another episode of Hot Tub HUMPS.
Joe-latinous, decked out in nothing but his mankini which was like a rubber band trying to hold a room full of raw chicken together, waved an ambiguous, bulbous appendage. Immediately, his servants obeyed, filling up his empty hot tub with boiling Kool-Aid — the blue kind. He could barely feel it through his layers upon layers of humps.
And today, those humps would only grow more girthy.
The first worshipper dragged themself forward on the stage, gliding slowly on an oozy trail of human fat, until they reached the Kiddie Pool of Pudding. After they bathed themself in the holy chocolate, generously sponsored by Snack Pack, they spoke the sacred words:
“O, grand Joe-latinous! Please accept my meager humps. May they please your wobbly ways, and jiggle your fancies.”
Joe-lationous, who was long beyond the capability of human speech, merely roared out of a section of his vibrating folds. It spat out a mist of sweat, and a wriggling reddish mass tangled with throbbing veins and arteries emerged from between, coated in dribbling saliva.
As if it had a mind of its own, the organ wrapped itself around the contestant, slurping off the holy chocolate, generously sponsored by Snack Pack.
Two unknowable appendages raised up from Joe-latinous’s mountain of flesh, emitting belches that oddly reeked of a soothing-yet-refreshing glazed bacon.
The dripping wet organ retracted, leaving behind a newly cleansed, de-humped soul collapsed in the Kiddie Pool. Truly nothing more than some skin and bones, and a smile on their emaciated face.
To the untrained eye, there was no difference in Joe-latinous’s form. But to the true believers in the audience, in tears over the joy of the spectacle, they saw the contestant’s humps burst forth onto the surface of (what might be) Joe-latinous’s back. Three fresh tumors, gently pulsating the name “Joe,” “Joe,” “Joe.”
All the believers awaited the day they could offer up their humps too. But for now, they rejoiced for the chosen, and chanted slowly together:
“Generously sponsored by Snack Pack.”
The original story is fine, but the omniscient narrator is a little awkward, and there are places it could go further.
When editing, there are three main categories to pay attention to:
- Pacing/clarity: Are sections too fast/unclear? Then let’s add in fun introspection/narration. Are sections too slow/boring? Then let’s trim them or massage them with some fun voice.
- Flow/structure: How do things flow on a paragraph/page level? Do we need to add in/delete whole sections? How do things flow on a sentence/word level? Can we swap out some less interesting structures/expressions for juicier ones?
- Logic/theme: Does our story make sense? Does it leave the reader satisfied? Does it “say” what we want it to say?
We decided to focus our editing by inserting a POV character, a new recruit into the Joe-latinous cult.
That change rippled throughout the rest of everything for our second draft.
Read our edited version here:
Allison was beginning to panic. All around her, the stands were filling in with more and more fans, but Cynthia — her so-called best friend who had begged for weeks for Allison to come with her — was nowhere in sight. All she had left to commiserate with was Cynthia’s empty seat beside her. Abandoned just like her.
Typical Cynthia. Always flaky, but Allison tried her best to be a good friend. Sometimes Cynthia made that really hard though.
A deep voice blared over the speaker.
“All hail the great Joe-latinous!”
The crowds around Allison erupted into cheers, but she stood arms crossed, getting ready to leave. Cynthia hadn’t even told her what the event at the stadium was. From the looks of the literal nothing down below, Allison was expecting some sort of boring show or concert. “Joe-latinous” certainly sounded like a lame rockstar wannabe.
Then the gurgles came from the entry tunnel. All the lights in one of the hallways went out, cast in the shadow of something huge. Allison squinted her eyes, trying to make it out. It looked like some sort of strange amalgamation of basketballs glued together. Basketballs that were moving — no, throbbing.
“The great Joe-latinous has arrived!”
Allison dropped her phone to the floor as the screams of ecstasy from the others surrounded her. Every niggling doubt about her friendship with Cynthia, every anxious twitch of Allison’s hand towards her phone — all ceased as she flinched back in revulsion. There was only one thing her latent animal instincts let her pay attention to.
What the hell IS that thing?
What Allison had thought were basketballs were bulges of human flesh, together the size of a Lovecraftian wet dream. A team of what must be McDonald’s underwear models — sweaty, obese men wearing nothing but loincloths — wheeled in the monstrosity on a dolly cart, their smooth, hairless bodies being dribbled on by unknowable fluids from above.
Whatever the creature was, it wore nothing except a stretched out mankini that looked as though it were going to snap at any moment. Like a rubber band trying to hold an entire room full of raw chicken together.
The only thing that smacked Allison out of her stupor was the smell. Moist, moldy hot dogs left to marinate in port-o-potty refuse in a sweltering tropical jungle. Even from far away, she had to clasp her hand over her mouth and nose, desperately swallowing back down the lunch Cynthia had warned her not to eat.
In the center of the stadium, the thing waved an ambiguous, bulbous appendage at the audience. Whether it was a hand, a foot, a face, Allison had no idea. It was covered in teeth, eyes, and spewing thick ooze to the floor as it secreted a skin-rippling shriek from some unseen orifice.
She had to get out of here. But all around her were cheering cultists. Even just not wailing in euphoria was garnering some questionable looks. If she tried to run away, they’d probably toss her down there and feed her to the damn thing. She just had to play along, until she found Cynthia. They could escape together.
“Welcome, jellies and gelatins!” the announcer boomed, silencing the audience. “We are gathered here today for yet another great congealing. Skinnies! Bring forth the meal.”
The morbidly obese mostly naked men waddled off to another entry tunnel, their thick feet smacking the floor like wet tongues slapping against oily leather, rippling through their overflowing, veiny legs.
Allison sat in silence with the rest of the audience as the “Skinnies” dragged something new into the stadium. A kiddie pool filled with chocolate or something? Slowly everyone around her began clapping in unison. Short bursts. Then faster. Faster. Allison did her best to fit in, to keep up. But where the hell was Cynthia?
“Glory be unto this small jellie before his greatness,” the announcer said. “One formerly known as Cynthia!”
Allison froze mid-clap. Her friend burst from the chocolate kiddie pool with a wet slorp, shooting straight up, covered all over with dark brown slime. She stood right in front of the pulsating flesh monstrosity, smiling and waving at the audience, splattering fat drops of chocolate all over the front row.
“Today, jellies and gelatins,” the announcer said, “we give thanks to both the Great Joe-latinous, and to Snack Pack, for generously sponsoring today’s meal. May the humps of ConAgra Foods, Inc grow ever more girthy!”
Allison couldn’t hold back anymore. She cried out to Cynthia, but her voice was drowned out by the roaring cheers and claps.
Then, suddenly, silence. The only sound was the suckling of Joe-latinous’s layers sliding against each other.
“O, grand Joe-latinous!” Cynthia said. She held her chocolate-covered arms out wide and smiled at him with shimmering eyes. “Please accept my meager humps. May they please your wobbly ways, and jiggle your fancies.”
A section of Joe-lationous’s vibrating folds rumbled and spat out a thick mist of sweat, and a wriggling reddish mass tangled with trembling veins and arteries emerged from between, coated in stringy saliva, wetly caressing Cynthia.
Allison couldn’t hold back. She shouted among the silent stadium.
“Cynthia!”
Her friend looked up at her, smiled.
And Joe-latinous’s appendage sucked her right into his girth.
Cynthia flew head-first into the mountain of flesh, kicking her feet as they too were slowly absorbed. With every inch of her that his mass gobbled down, another belch that reeked of oddly soothing bacon burst from one of his openings.
Then, with a final, watery howl, Joe-latinous retched out a stream of chocolate-smelling bones, hair, and toenails, tumbling into a bubbling puddle on the floor.
“Look at that, jellies and gelatins!” the announcer said. “Three humps! What a faithful jellie she had been.”
Allison looked closer at Joe-latinous, and just like the announcer had said, there were three new globules bloating out like flesh-balloons. One of them was coated in Cynthia’s pearly teeth, another had fingers and toes wiggling like grubs sticking out of the dirt.
And the last one had her mouth, opening and closing, screaming out the same word as the rest of the gently pulsating globules.
“Joe. Joe! Joe!”
“Joe!”
Allison yelled it along with everyone else, tears of joy in her eyes at seeing her friend become a part of something greater. Bigger. She only wished that Cynthia had told her earlier.
Allison wouldn’t make the same mistake with her other friends.
Our edited version is 3x longer than the original! That’ a lot of extra girth.
Editing is much, much more than just fixing up spelling/grammar. It’s about adding/deleting entire sections of the story, potentially turning it into something else entirely.
Remember, editing should take at least as long as it took to write the original draft. And taking longer is perfectly normal. While it may sound like a pain, the satisfaction of having a stronger story is always worth it in the end.
If you want to join us and help write a story by trolling in chat, or share your own writing for feedback, then we’d love to have you join us on Twitch.
And you missed the stream, you can still watch them on the YouTube channel or watch the full stream reruns.
Hope to see you next time, friend!
Top image: Pexels