Writing a blog post about revising almost feels like I’m stalling. Why not just work on the revisions in the first place? Maybe there is a little procrastinating going on here, or maybe I’m just taking advantage of having a place where I can write all this down and clarify for myself exactly what I’m trying to do. Be warned, though: Since this post is going to be all introspective, you’re probably going to find me using the word “I” with an assaulting frequency.
My big project for the summer is to revise my manuscript The Ghost of Lake Emily, for those of you who know it. Revising is a tricky process, and it doesn’t happen overnight. I’m on summer break now though, so I can devote the kind of time to the work that it deserves. Because it is work. It is hard work. And it takes time. A lot of time. And a lot of thought, and a lot of energy.
Think of it like this: When a sculptor begins working on a piece, they first figure out how much clay they’re going to need, then roughly mold that beginning mound into the approximate shape of what they plan on creating. This is what a first draft is like for a writer. Drafting a story is usually just getting words and ideas on paper so there’s something to work with. Revision is when the writer takes that clay and meticulously fine-tunes the necessary details to make it into the piece of art they envision. Revision is where I am with Emily right now, even though I've already revised it three or four times in the past.
I usually revise in steps. First I think a lot about the story, and, in this case, the notes I got about it from my agent. Like, for weeks. I took a class on art instruction as an undergrad education content course, and still remember how preoccupied the professor seemed to be about tapping into the divergent mind. That I remember this now is a good thing. I’ve found it can be a valuable tool to let ideas percolate, since that can lead to more ideas I’d never anticipate, and usually at the least opportune moments. Thank goodness for the Notes app on my iPhone, which is much more convenient than carrying around a tiny notebook or a pocketful of Post-It Notes with scribbled bits of shorthand I’m lucky to remember later.
When these stray ideas start coming together in a meaningful way, I’ll sit down with the original draft and take it apart, creating and renaming several new files to keep track of what kind of progress I’m making, one chapter, one page, one paragraph, one line at a time. I’ll use the comments feature to insert notes about things I’ll want to address later, usually filling up the side margin with so many notes they almost look like one continuous yellow bar, with comments like, “better phrasing,” “establish how tall this kid is,” “more realistic dialogue,” “Expand on this,” “Make the stakes more clear,” “Maybe the date doesn’t need to be so important?” “This sucks, fix it,” “establish him as a know-it-all, and not shy about it,” “she needs to make more allusions here -- creepier,” “move this line to the beginning of the paragraph,” “this is why you have to age them down,” “less/better imagery here,” “Have him nerd it up more in this little soliloquy,” and so on, basically taking dictation from my internal monologue as I figure out what changes need to be made. Do I focus on the positive? Hardly ever, unless I find something that really works. When that happens, my comments usually amount to “Do this more,” and I’ll remember what it means. If something works, I know it works, and taking the time to be self-congratulatory about it won’t help much.
After all of the considerable preparation is finally done and I’m struggling to contain myself anymore -- seriously, it’s like trying to hold in a sneeze -- I’ll finally start with the writing, and the editing, and rewriting. This is the hard part, and, to be honest, it’s harder now than it ever was before. In the olden days when I was sitting down and writing stories to amuse myself, I didn’t have to work to the same professional standard that I do now. This beginning stage sees a lot of bad writing, a lot of reading other books to activate the writing part of my brain, a lot of long walks to increase the oxygen flow and give the divergent thought a chance to work, along with a lot of second guessing and self-doubt. I know where I want the story to go, but I also know all too well how much hard work needs to be done to get there. I’m perfectly willing to do as many revision passes as are needed to make the story into the best it can be, but of course I’d rather get it closer to right in the fewest number of tries.
Luckily I’ve done this long enough to know that things will eventually come together, and those moments when the flow state kicks in and things come fast and smoothly are great exhilarating fun. But at this point...well, maybe I’ll go spend some time with the book I’m reading these days. Because I want to activate by brain, not because I’m procrastinating...yeah, that’s it....
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