Fifteen years ago I handed my bulky, single-spaced first draft of Bear Woman Rising to Marjorie Abrams, the mystery writer in our critique group, who bravely agreed to read it. After several weeks, somewhat bleary eyed, she heaved it into my arms and said, “I got bogged down in back story. Sorry.” As well she should have since the behemoth manuscript contained nearly 190,000 words.
Embarrassed and discouraged, I needed time to lick my wounds before I summoned the courage to take a knife to my precious words, or more appropriately rev up my proverbial chain saw. Ultimately, over the course of the next dozen years, I managed to eliminate approximatel...