HOW Many Words, Take Two

Irony. It’s my new middle name.

In my post for last month I detailed how I had been working on a project in which the word count was 250 words per piece. I mentioned how, as a wordy person, I struggled to pare down my work to meet that limit.

Well.

Two days after I submitted that blog post, I got an email from my editor. There had been some miscommunication about the word count—the 250 word limit was for the previous project I had done for the same company (finished last summer). The current project actually had a 500 word-limit.

500 words. DOUBLE what I had written. God has a sense of humor.

The editor praised my pieces but asked that I rewrite them to make them LONGER. After all of the sweat I had expended to keep them short. I had to laugh at the irony.

And here’s the deal: once you have learned to “write tight” and have worked to limit yourself on words, it’s incredibly hard to double the word count.

“God is very, very, very, extremely, unbelievably good.” That’s what I wanted to write, but I didn’t. I dived back in and tried to extend my stories without seeming like I was stretching. Trust me—it’s not as easy as it sounds. The editor gave me some nice suggestions on how to “beef up” the pieces, and hopefully they turned fine. I truly appreciate her taking the time to work with me in this situation.

As I finished the last edit today, I thought of two things.

First of all, scripture came to mind: Not that I speak in regard to need, for I have learned in whatever state I am, to be content: I know how to be abased, and I know how to abound. Everywhere and in all things I have learned both to be full and to be hungry, both to abound and to suffer need. That’s Philippians 4:11-12, New King James Version. The CHV—Carlton Hughes Version—might read, I have learned how to write tight and how to stretch out the word count.

Finally I thought of Roseanne Roseannadanna, the character Gilda Radner used to play. She would end her Weekend Update reports by summing up life in a few simple phrases. My latest escapade might sound like this: “It’s always something; if it’s not one thing, it’s another. Either you have to write to a very short word limit or you have to stretch out what you’ve already written. Or you have food stuck in your beard (Roseanne would have wanted me to include that last sentence, as she thrived on gross things).”

I think I’ll go rest now. I’m very, very, very, extremely, unbelievably tired.