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In his book, THE FIRE IN FICTION*, Donald Maass has this to say:
"Scenes that are written in the normal flow of accumulating pages may be fine but often will lack focus."
Truer words have never been spoken. Which is just one of the reasons I love revision. I think of the discovery draft as not only discovering what my story is about, but also about CREATING the material I will use in building the actual story. So the first/discovery draft is never (for me) the story; just the raw ingredients for a story.
The second draft is always about structure, about hammering out the best, most compelling structure of the book and deciding what should happen when for the biggest impact.
And then I look at scenes to be certain they are all doing what they are supposed to do: moving the story forward.
I have recently created a scene revision template which I am finding immensely helpful in this process, so I thought I would share it here. (It's compiled from stuff I've read in Maass's book, which I can't recommend highly enough**)
One of the things I've always stumbled over with scene revision is the question you are always told to ask: What is the goal of this scene. That always seems far too direct to me, too spot on, and, for me, risks pulling all the nuance and obliquity from a scene.
Instead, I ask what is the point of the scene. Why is it there? That way I can determine if it is earning it's place in the book, but not approach the problem too head on. Then the following template helps me shape it so that the point of the scene doesn't get lost. So my template looks like this:
What is the point of the scene?
What changes?
When does it change?
How does it change the POV character? (This is a biggy--the axis of the scene. Because pretty much everything should either contribute to or lead away from that.)
What are three visible or audible details of that moment of change?
Create hints that the protagonist will get what they want. Also build reasons to believe they won't. (This is a great reminder to me to keep supplying the reader with dramatic questions, even at the scene level.)
What are some sensory details of this scene? What are details that only my protagonist would observe or notice? (I am particularly fond of this question because it forces me to go deep inside my character's worldview.)
And that's it. Once I've answered those questions, I have a very distinct shape and structure to the scene and can go in and revise with abandon. Okay, maybe not with abandon, but at least with a much clearer vision of what the scene should be doing...
*I originally mistyped that as THE IRE IN FICTION and it cracked me up so much I was half tempted to leave it.
**I adore his WRITING THE BREAKOUT NOVEL for the initial brainstorming of a book and TFIF for shaping it.
Showing posts with label revision. Show all posts
Showing posts with label revision. Show all posts
Wednesday, June 30, 2010
Monday, August 03, 2009
The Art of Revising - Polishing
Ideally, it’s best to read the whole manuscript out loud. You won’t believe how many things you’ll catch that way! However, I don’t always have time to do that, I’ll admit…what I do try to check for is:
Typos and misspellings
Weak words, especially verbs
Awkward phrasing
Wordy sentences (This is my Achilles heel. Bet you couldn't have guessed that...)
Overwriting
Adverbs (Although I must state I have a great fondness for adverbs. But the strong, expressive ones, not weak ones. Although sometimes I think those work for flow and balance.)
Echos (The same word showing up two or more times in rapid sequence. However, sometimes there really is no other word you can use, though, so you're stuck.)
Look for “to be” or was or were, see if stronger verbs could work there. (My rule of thumb is to keep the "to be" (or gerund) form of the verb if the action is continuous or ongoing. So, for example, He was walking across the street, then tripped. Which implies he tripped WHILE crossing the street. As opposed to, He walked across the street. He tripped. Which implies he tripped after he'd crossed the street. If that is the nuance of meaning you're going for, then keep the "was verbing".)
Typos and misspellings
Weak words, especially verbs
Awkward phrasing
Wordy sentences (This is my Achilles heel. Bet you couldn't have guessed that...)
Overwriting
Adverbs (Although I must state I have a great fondness for adverbs. But the strong, expressive ones, not weak ones. Although sometimes I think those work for flow and balance.)
Echos (The same word showing up two or more times in rapid sequence. However, sometimes there really is no other word you can use, though, so you're stuck.)
Look for “to be” or was or were, see if stronger verbs could work there. (My rule of thumb is to keep the "to be" (or gerund) form of the verb if the action is continuous or ongoing. So, for example, He was walking across the street, then tripped. Which implies he tripped WHILE crossing the street. As opposed to, He walked across the street. He tripped. Which implies he tripped after he'd crossed the street. If that is the nuance of meaning you're going for, then keep the "was verbing".)
Friday, July 31, 2009
The Art of Revising - Micro Revision
Micro revision is all about the scene. Is the scene—the building block of my novel—working? Is it carrying its weight? Has it earned its place in the story? This is also where I check for dropped plot threads or un-fleshed out characters.
However, you only do this once you've hammered out the story, otherwise the focus of the scene might shift.
The first thing to check is that you have indeed written in scenes and not in one long, every minute accounted for stretch from beginning to end. You only need to show the parts that impact the story. It is okay to have some stuff (the boring stuff) happen off the page and either recap it or relay it in a quick transition or conversation.
MICRO REVISION CHECKLIST
Plot
Every scene should move the plot forward in some way. However, moving the plot forward can be subtle. But there needs to be some reason for the scene to be there. Note: The reason it’s there can often be very, very hidden.
Ideally, each scene should perform a variety of functions. Shoot for three:
Move plot forward
develop characters
reveal backstory (in tiny bits and pieces)
foreshadow upcoming events,
raise dramatic questions the reader wants answer to
Does the scene have some source of conflict or dramatic tension? This doesn’t have to be head to head conflict. It can be in the form of a dramatic question that is raised. Or a ticking clock. Or things left unsaid, swirling about the room. Foreshadowing can also work.
Look for a way to add tension on every single page.
If you can’t heighten the tension, ask yourself if the character is fully reacting to the events around him. Is he fully engaged by the events of the story?
Do I start the scene as late as possible and still make sense? In first books especially there can be a lot of deadwood. Writers feel they must account for every minute of their hero’s time, not realizing they get to pick and choose the dramatic moments they show, and simply account for the rest in transitions.
Consider eliminating the character getting from one place to another unless it has a dramatic rather than logistical reason for being there. For example, in Beastologist, I had to find ways to imbue some of the travel with tension, because it was Nate’s first trip—an exciting milestone in his life and something he should experience “on screen,” yet not necessarily a huge thing in and of itself.
For weak scenes, try listing all the reasons the scene is there. If the list is mostly because the character needs to know something, can you find a way to incorporate that same information in another scene?
Are there any places you start to skim as you’re re-reading the mss? Better look at those closely.
Have you dropped any subplots or plot threads along the way? This is where my handy-dandy spreadsheets come in. (Which I will be talking about next week, as per Laurel’s request.) Sometimes when I juggle as many plot threads as I do it is easy to lose someone.
Check for smooth transitions. If you start a scene with a chunk of action that isn’t dramatic action, or a few days have gone by, you can easily fill that part in with an effective transition.
Characters:
Does the scene address the internal character arc as well as the external action of the story?
Have you gone deep enough into the character’s POV? Are you really living, breathing, feeling things through his filters?
Do the varying POV characters thoughts and actions flow smoothly? Is there a sense of continuity from one scene of theirs to the next?
Have I lost anyone? Dropped any secondary characters or forgotten about them?
Building On Theme
By now you should have a good idea as to what your theme is. Do your scenes explore this theme? Do your scenes wrestle with both sides of the question you raised? If your theme is about gaining forgiveness, do some of your scenes show the promise of forgiveness while others show the threat of eternal penance or punishment? Perhaps you can pull a little of this into your weaker scenes.
Is there an opportunity to build subtext into the scenes in some way, create a layer of something unspoken between the characters, or even something the character is hiding from himself?
Look for physical items that might make good concrete objects.
General
Keep an eye out for backstory or info dump; they can slow down your story. Flashbacks, too, can bring a story to a screeching halt.
Have you established a sense of time and place that the scene is occurring in. Would a change of location make the scene more fraught with meaning?
Look at your descriptions; do they illuminate something about the character as well as what they’re describing? The best descriptions are so deep in the character’s viewpoint that they tell us a lot about their worldview or current emotional state.
Have you pulled the senses into the scene?
What is it you want the reader to know by the end of this scene? What questions do you want her to be asking?
Do you give the same information more than once? If so, be sure to add something each time, some new revelation, some new nuance, otherwise say it only once.
If the book builds on clues or research or revelations, do those happen in an ordered sequence that actually lead to the proper revelation? Often I will cut and paste all the “clue” scenes into a single document and be sure they actually build on each other and don’t leave anything important out.
If you’re using more than one POV character, this can also be a handy trick for being sure the character’s thought build on each other—cutting and pasting all their POV scenes and reading them all at once to check for logistical flow and consistency.
Are there any vestigial tails in your scenes? Bits and pieces left over from something you had originally then removed?
Check for continuity of time.
However, you only do this once you've hammered out the story, otherwise the focus of the scene might shift.
The first thing to check is that you have indeed written in scenes and not in one long, every minute accounted for stretch from beginning to end. You only need to show the parts that impact the story. It is okay to have some stuff (the boring stuff) happen off the page and either recap it or relay it in a quick transition or conversation.
MICRO REVISION CHECKLIST
Plot
Every scene should move the plot forward in some way. However, moving the plot forward can be subtle. But there needs to be some reason for the scene to be there. Note: The reason it’s there can often be very, very hidden.
Ideally, each scene should perform a variety of functions. Shoot for three:
Move plot forward
develop characters
reveal backstory (in tiny bits and pieces)
foreshadow upcoming events,
raise dramatic questions the reader wants answer to
Does the scene have some source of conflict or dramatic tension? This doesn’t have to be head to head conflict. It can be in the form of a dramatic question that is raised. Or a ticking clock. Or things left unsaid, swirling about the room. Foreshadowing can also work.
Look for a way to add tension on every single page.
If you can’t heighten the tension, ask yourself if the character is fully reacting to the events around him. Is he fully engaged by the events of the story?
Do I start the scene as late as possible and still make sense? In first books especially there can be a lot of deadwood. Writers feel they must account for every minute of their hero’s time, not realizing they get to pick and choose the dramatic moments they show, and simply account for the rest in transitions.
Consider eliminating the character getting from one place to another unless it has a dramatic rather than logistical reason for being there. For example, in Beastologist, I had to find ways to imbue some of the travel with tension, because it was Nate’s first trip—an exciting milestone in his life and something he should experience “on screen,” yet not necessarily a huge thing in and of itself.
For weak scenes, try listing all the reasons the scene is there. If the list is mostly because the character needs to know something, can you find a way to incorporate that same information in another scene?
Are there any places you start to skim as you’re re-reading the mss? Better look at those closely.
Have you dropped any subplots or plot threads along the way? This is where my handy-dandy spreadsheets come in. (Which I will be talking about next week, as per Laurel’s request.) Sometimes when I juggle as many plot threads as I do it is easy to lose someone.
Check for smooth transitions. If you start a scene with a chunk of action that isn’t dramatic action, or a few days have gone by, you can easily fill that part in with an effective transition.
Characters:
Does the scene address the internal character arc as well as the external action of the story?
Have you gone deep enough into the character’s POV? Are you really living, breathing, feeling things through his filters?
Do the varying POV characters thoughts and actions flow smoothly? Is there a sense of continuity from one scene of theirs to the next?
Have I lost anyone? Dropped any secondary characters or forgotten about them?
Building On Theme
By now you should have a good idea as to what your theme is. Do your scenes explore this theme? Do your scenes wrestle with both sides of the question you raised? If your theme is about gaining forgiveness, do some of your scenes show the promise of forgiveness while others show the threat of eternal penance or punishment? Perhaps you can pull a little of this into your weaker scenes.
Is there an opportunity to build subtext into the scenes in some way, create a layer of something unspoken between the characters, or even something the character is hiding from himself?
Look for physical items that might make good concrete objects.
General
Keep an eye out for backstory or info dump; they can slow down your story. Flashbacks, too, can bring a story to a screeching halt.
Have you established a sense of time and place that the scene is occurring in. Would a change of location make the scene more fraught with meaning?
Look at your descriptions; do they illuminate something about the character as well as what they’re describing? The best descriptions are so deep in the character’s viewpoint that they tell us a lot about their worldview or current emotional state.
Have you pulled the senses into the scene?
What is it you want the reader to know by the end of this scene? What questions do you want her to be asking?
Do you give the same information more than once? If so, be sure to add something each time, some new revelation, some new nuance, otherwise say it only once.
If the book builds on clues or research or revelations, do those happen in an ordered sequence that actually lead to the proper revelation? Often I will cut and paste all the “clue” scenes into a single document and be sure they actually build on each other and don’t leave anything important out.
If you’re using more than one POV character, this can also be a handy trick for being sure the character’s thought build on each other—cutting and pasting all their POV scenes and reading them all at once to check for logistical flow and consistency.
Are there any vestigial tails in your scenes? Bits and pieces left over from something you had originally then removed?
Check for continuity of time.
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
The Art of Revising - Macro Revision
As I mentioned yesterday, the single most important thing you can do to help the revision process is give yourself the gift of distance. A month is ideal. Two, even better. In a pinch, a week can suffice.
Once you have a completed draft, it’s time to look at what you actually managed to get out of your head onto the paper. Or if the idea holds up under daylight. Or if there’s really as much there there as you’d hoped. Distance helps you obtain a higher level of objectivity with which to do that.
Revision, or Macro Revision, as I think of it, is all about the story. Does the manuscript contain all the vital elements needed to create a gripping story. Does it realize its potential? News flash: Most people’s don’t at the first draft stage. Seriously. Or if they revise as they go, you can bet their first pass at a scene isn’t perfect.
So here then, are the things to look at when sitting down to revise a story.
MACRO REVISIONCHECKLIST QUESTIONS
(I changed my mind. This isn't really a checklist, it's more of a list of questions to ask yourself as you try to analyze your manuscript. If you use it as a checklist of things you must have, you will go mad. So don't.)
VOICE
Have you chosen the right person to tell this story?
90% of the time you will have, but sometimes there are times when the story is better told through someone else, less removed from the action. Think Dr. Watson in Sherlock Holmes.
Have your selected the right POV?
Is your first person narrative flat? If you can easily substitute third person pronouns and have the whole thing make sense and flow, chances are you haven’t taken full advantage of the first person form. Conversely, have you at least tried first person? What happens when you get totally inside your character's head? Does he come even more alive?
If you are working with a familiar scenario (dreaded move, new school, losing a best friend) what fresh, new, unique twist do you bring to it?
SETTING
Have you selected the best setting for this story? Is there a different setting that would add more inherent conflict? Create more tension? Echo your thematic elements?
PROTAGONIST/PLOT
Does your character want something? Or not want something? Is that desire driving the story or at least some of his actions?
Is your character an active participant in the story? If not, is he taking baby steps toward becoming one?
Is there something that keeps getting between the main character and his goal? Would the story be stronger if there was?
Is there a source of tension?
Is your story building toward something?
If not, what provides the dramatic push or narrative drive toward the end?
Do the obstacles the protagonist faces increase in difficulty?
Does he ever fail? (Remember, we learn more from our mistakes than our successes!)
Are their times when he makes things worse by his own actions?
Is there cause and effect in your story, or is it more of a string of unconnected events. (This happened and then this happened and then this happened, but nothing caused any of the other things to happen.)
Is your character a different person at the end of the book than they were at the beginning?
Could he have solved this problem or puzzle or dealt with the core issues at the beginning of the book? If so, have you given him a big enough growth arc?
Will people be emotionally invested in his journey? Will they care if he fail? What is at risk if he fails?
Are there measurable baby steps he makes on his journey? Or does he just wake up one day, able to tackle the problem? Do we see his growth on the page?
Are the ideas and issues fully developed? Is there a true beginning, middle, and end? Or do you go straight from the beginning to the end without fully developing the issues in the middle?
Do the actions and events in the book impact different parts of the protagonist’s life? School, home, other relationships?
Do your secondary characters have arcs, too? They will be smaller and more subtle, but they should be there.
THEME
Why are you writing this story? What piece of You is in there? Why are you the most perfect person to tell this story?
Are the themes universal? Is there room for Everyman in your story?
Do the actions and events of your story support the theme you’re working with?
Now that you know your theme, is there a way you can make it even more powerful?
Once you have a completed draft, it’s time to look at what you actually managed to get out of your head onto the paper. Or if the idea holds up under daylight. Or if there’s really as much there there as you’d hoped. Distance helps you obtain a higher level of objectivity with which to do that.
Revision, or Macro Revision, as I think of it, is all about the story. Does the manuscript contain all the vital elements needed to create a gripping story. Does it realize its potential? News flash: Most people’s don’t at the first draft stage. Seriously. Or if they revise as they go, you can bet their first pass at a scene isn’t perfect.
So here then, are the things to look at when sitting down to revise a story.
MACRO REVISION
(I changed my mind. This isn't really a checklist, it's more of a list of questions to ask yourself as you try to analyze your manuscript. If you use it as a checklist of things you must have, you will go mad. So don't.)
VOICE
Have you chosen the right person to tell this story?
90% of the time you will have, but sometimes there are times when the story is better told through someone else, less removed from the action. Think Dr. Watson in Sherlock Holmes.
Have your selected the right POV?
Is your first person narrative flat? If you can easily substitute third person pronouns and have the whole thing make sense and flow, chances are you haven’t taken full advantage of the first person form. Conversely, have you at least tried first person? What happens when you get totally inside your character's head? Does he come even more alive?
If you are working with a familiar scenario (dreaded move, new school, losing a best friend) what fresh, new, unique twist do you bring to it?
SETTING
Have you selected the best setting for this story? Is there a different setting that would add more inherent conflict? Create more tension? Echo your thematic elements?
PROTAGONIST/PLOT
Does your character want something? Or not want something? Is that desire driving the story or at least some of his actions?
Is your character an active participant in the story? If not, is he taking baby steps toward becoming one?
Is there something that keeps getting between the main character and his goal? Would the story be stronger if there was?
Is there a source of tension?
Is your story building toward something?
If not, what provides the dramatic push or narrative drive toward the end?
Do the obstacles the protagonist faces increase in difficulty?
Does he ever fail? (Remember, we learn more from our mistakes than our successes!)
Are their times when he makes things worse by his own actions?
Is there cause and effect in your story, or is it more of a string of unconnected events. (This happened and then this happened and then this happened, but nothing caused any of the other things to happen.)
Is your character a different person at the end of the book than they were at the beginning?
Could he have solved this problem or puzzle or dealt with the core issues at the beginning of the book? If so, have you given him a big enough growth arc?
Will people be emotionally invested in his journey? Will they care if he fail? What is at risk if he fails?
Are there measurable baby steps he makes on his journey? Or does he just wake up one day, able to tackle the problem? Do we see his growth on the page?
Are the ideas and issues fully developed? Is there a true beginning, middle, and end? Or do you go straight from the beginning to the end without fully developing the issues in the middle?
Do the actions and events in the book impact different parts of the protagonist’s life? School, home, other relationships?
Do your secondary characters have arcs, too? They will be smaller and more subtle, but they should be there.
THEME
Why are you writing this story? What piece of You is in there? Why are you the most perfect person to tell this story?
Are the themes universal? Is there room for Everyman in your story?
Do the actions and events of your story support the theme you’re working with?
Now that you know your theme, is there a way you can make it even more powerful?
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
The Art of Revising
I so wanted to add In The Rain to that blog title, but since it isn't raining anywhere near here, it didn't really work. That's a writer's lot in life, isn't it? Having to sacrifice cleverness for clarity. Anywhoo...
My Lovely Agent and I were talking on the phone the other day about revising, and how difficult it can be for newer writers to understand the different between truly revising a manuscript and merely polishing it. Since I’m up to my elbows in revisions this week and it’s a subject that is currently near and dear to my heart, I thought I’d talk about it here.
I totally cringe now at some of the earlier projects I submitted to publishers. Looking back, I can so clearly see how NOT ready they were. They were first drafts that I’d polished, then submitted. And I think this is very common early on in our apprenticeship. We don’t know what don’t know, yet, if that makes any sense. We can’t know what knowledge we’re lacking, because we most likely haven’t been exposed to it yet.
Now some people are very, very good at polishing as they go. But this isn’t initially the case for most of us. For most of us, our first drafts are most definitely the $hi!!y first drafts Anne Lamott talks about in Bird by Bird. I think that’s one of the first things we need to recognize; that first drafts are simply everything we think we know about the story so far. That’s why I prefer the term discovery draft, because so often we learn so much in the writing of that draft, that it changes the story in the writing of it.
And that’s where revision or rewriting comes in. That’s when we step back and pull out our analytical tools and try to see objectively what is working in the story and should be kept, and what is lacking in the story. That’s when we check to see if we’re using the wrong voice, or if the structure is flawed or we need an antagonist of some sort. It’s where we can see that there isn’t enough conflict, or that the character isn’t solving his own problems or we’ve built to a huge climax, then undercut it in some way.
Only when all those issues have been ironed out, then we can work on polishing, which is smoothing out language, line editing, etc.
Now I’m going to put a disclaimer in here because I know a couple of my blog readers (Hi Katy!) do indeed work all this stuff out as they go. And the more I write under contract, the better I get at doing that myself. But for the purpose of this discussion, we’re going to talk in drafts because I think that’s a more universal place for most writers to start.
So tomorrow I’m going to talk about Macro Revising—the big picture things we need to look at in our first draft, then after that I’ll talk about Micro Revising—the small picture things. But today I'll leave you with the single most important revising tip I know:
Distance.
The best (perhaps only?) way to gain any objectivity about your own work is through distance. If you put can put your manuscript aside for a month, you will be shocked, shocked I tell you, at how many of the macro flaws are now visible. Yes, finishing a manuscript is the best feeling in the world. So celebrate. Call all your friends and family. Break out the champagne. Go out to dinner. But do not send the mss off to an agent or editor yet. Don't do it. Wait at least a month. You will be SO glad you did. Pinkie swear.
And I apologize that I got this post up a little later in the morning than usual, but after yesterday’s typo disaster, I thought it prudent…
My Lovely Agent and I were talking on the phone the other day about revising, and how difficult it can be for newer writers to understand the different between truly revising a manuscript and merely polishing it. Since I’m up to my elbows in revisions this week and it’s a subject that is currently near and dear to my heart, I thought I’d talk about it here.
I totally cringe now at some of the earlier projects I submitted to publishers. Looking back, I can so clearly see how NOT ready they were. They were first drafts that I’d polished, then submitted. And I think this is very common early on in our apprenticeship. We don’t know what don’t know, yet, if that makes any sense. We can’t know what knowledge we’re lacking, because we most likely haven’t been exposed to it yet.
Now some people are very, very good at polishing as they go. But this isn’t initially the case for most of us. For most of us, our first drafts are most definitely the $hi!!y first drafts Anne Lamott talks about in Bird by Bird. I think that’s one of the first things we need to recognize; that first drafts are simply everything we think we know about the story so far. That’s why I prefer the term discovery draft, because so often we learn so much in the writing of that draft, that it changes the story in the writing of it.
And that’s where revision or rewriting comes in. That’s when we step back and pull out our analytical tools and try to see objectively what is working in the story and should be kept, and what is lacking in the story. That’s when we check to see if we’re using the wrong voice, or if the structure is flawed or we need an antagonist of some sort. It’s where we can see that there isn’t enough conflict, or that the character isn’t solving his own problems or we’ve built to a huge climax, then undercut it in some way.
Only when all those issues have been ironed out, then we can work on polishing, which is smoothing out language, line editing, etc.
Now I’m going to put a disclaimer in here because I know a couple of my blog readers (Hi Katy!) do indeed work all this stuff out as they go. And the more I write under contract, the better I get at doing that myself. But for the purpose of this discussion, we’re going to talk in drafts because I think that’s a more universal place for most writers to start.
So tomorrow I’m going to talk about Macro Revising—the big picture things we need to look at in our first draft, then after that I’ll talk about Micro Revising—the small picture things. But today I'll leave you with the single most important revising tip I know:
Distance.
The best (perhaps only?) way to gain any objectivity about your own work is through distance. If you put can put your manuscript aside for a month, you will be shocked, shocked I tell you, at how many of the macro flaws are now visible. Yes, finishing a manuscript is the best feeling in the world. So celebrate. Call all your friends and family. Break out the champagne. Go out to dinner. But do not send the mss off to an agent or editor yet. Don't do it. Wait at least a month. You will be SO glad you did. Pinkie swear.
And I apologize that I got this post up a little later in the morning than usual, but after yesterday’s typo disaster, I thought it prudent…
Thursday, November 20, 2008
What Color Is Your Revision?
I’ve discovered a enormously helpful new revision tool. It’s probably something everyone else has known about for eons, but I’ve just stumbled upon it and it’s keeping me from feeling scattered to the four corners of the universe.
I’ve taken to printing different versions of the mss out on different colors of paper. So the rough draft was printed in white, the second draft was printed on yellow, and the third that I’m currently working on is on blue paper. The final version will be on buff colored paper. (Yes, I really am the queen of multiple drafts. I can NEVER get it in one.)
Such a simple, simple thing, and yet, it frees up just a little bit more of my mental hard drive so I don’t have to stop and think, okay, which is the newest version? I know some people print their version numbers as a footer on the mss, but I always forget about that, and this color thing just makes it so clear.
Plus, seeing the mss on a different colored paper is almost as effective as using a new font for making old typos easier to spot.
It is especially helpful when I’m weaving in bits from older drafts.
Not to mention that it’s pretty. It makes my desk look like a rainbow has exploded on it.
I’ve taken to printing different versions of the mss out on different colors of paper. So the rough draft was printed in white, the second draft was printed on yellow, and the third that I’m currently working on is on blue paper. The final version will be on buff colored paper. (Yes, I really am the queen of multiple drafts. I can NEVER get it in one.)
Such a simple, simple thing, and yet, it frees up just a little bit more of my mental hard drive so I don’t have to stop and think, okay, which is the newest version? I know some people print their version numbers as a footer on the mss, but I always forget about that, and this color thing just makes it so clear.
Plus, seeing the mss on a different colored paper is almost as effective as using a new font for making old typos easier to spot.
It is especially helpful when I’m weaving in bits from older drafts.
Not to mention that it’s pretty. It makes my desk look like a rainbow has exploded on it.
Thursday, June 07, 2007
Left. Right. Left-Right-Left
When we were young, one of my brothers used to love to march. No matter how much he was balking at doing something or going somewhere, if you got him to march, he’d be okay. And of course, any of you fellow marchers out there recognize the call out for marching: Left. Right. Left-right-left.
Which oddly enough, described my writing process. (Oddly because I do not now, nor have I ever, had any interest in marching.) Only my left or right has to do with brain hemispheres rather than high-stepping.
Step One – Left Brain: Outlining and plotting.
When I outline, it is admittedly a rather messy process, but it is also organizational. I’m laying the foundations for structure, so it goes in the left brain category. In addition to exploring character and the story voice, I’m puzzling out the plot, what the conflict is, if it can sustain an entire book, what the turning points are, how the acts might break down. The thing is, I don’t force myself to adhere to this outline, and it almost always evolves during the course of the book as I get to understand my characters better. But it does give me some idea of where to go, of what to actually put on the page.
Step Two – Right Brain: The discovery draft.
This is pure, right-brained creative writing. Now that I have a basic sense of where I’m going, I just let ‘er rip. I try really hard to not censor anything and allow myself to go with whatever my subconscious tosses up at me. There’s tons of terrific stuff down there in our mental basement, along with an entire group of muses wanting to have their say. In Theodosia, much to my chagrin, I found I kept writing about her hat, and her not wearing one and getting in trouble for it. Enough already, I thought. But then at the end, I realized the hat was a lovely concrete object to stand in for her Father’s feelings toward her. If I had censored that out or tried to stifle it in any way, I would have missed out on a terrific ‘showing’ detail that kept me from having to ‘tell’.
Step Three – Left Brained: Structure
Once I’ve put aside the discovery draft to ferment, the structure loving half of my left brain comes out to play. And yes, even the left brain likes to play, even if it’s preferred method of play makes your palms break out in a sweat. I make lists of every scene in the book. On a spreadsheet. In one column I might note the source of conflict, to be sure there is one in that scene, and the next column might note what the plot goal of the scene is. If I have many subplots or plot threads, I’ll color code the scenes so I can be sure I’m keeping them balanced and not dropping any sub plot for too long a time. (Some people achieve these same goals with notecards or storyboards.) The thing I love about this method is that it allows me to see my entire novel at a glance, which is hugely helpful when looking at structure. And yes, I even—horrors!—graph my plots. (Just ask anyone who’s taken my online Revision class.) It allows me to check for rising action, to make sure the novel is getting more dramatic, more tense the closer to the end that I go.
Step Four – Right Brain: Deep Characterization work
This is where I go deep into all my characters heads. I usually have a pretty thorough idea of the main character, but in order to fully flesh out the novel, I have to know equally well all the characters. So I spend a few weeks journaling each of them to be sure I understand their motivations so I can make their actions and interactions believable. This is also where I look for all the breadcrumbs the Girls in the Basement might have left me. Things like the hat, that might lead me to something rich or thematic. You’d be surprised at how many clues your subconscious can leave you!
Step Five – Left Brain: Weaving and Polishing (Sounds like a day at a spa, doesn’t it? I wish!)
This is where I go in and weave everything from steps three and four into the manuscript and do a final editorial polish, cutting as much prose as I can. I am a huge overwriter (although, not on purpose) and Theodosia’s voice is especially prone to this, so I cut cut cut.
Such is my bizarre process. I realize it doesn’t work for everyone. Heck, it might not work for anyone but me, and that's fine. We writers are notorious for needing to march to our own drummer. (Ha! Get it? MARCH! I crack myself up some times.)
Which oddly enough, described my writing process. (Oddly because I do not now, nor have I ever, had any interest in marching.) Only my left or right has to do with brain hemispheres rather than high-stepping.
Step One – Left Brain: Outlining and plotting.
When I outline, it is admittedly a rather messy process, but it is also organizational. I’m laying the foundations for structure, so it goes in the left brain category. In addition to exploring character and the story voice, I’m puzzling out the plot, what the conflict is, if it can sustain an entire book, what the turning points are, how the acts might break down. The thing is, I don’t force myself to adhere to this outline, and it almost always evolves during the course of the book as I get to understand my characters better. But it does give me some idea of where to go, of what to actually put on the page.
Step Two – Right Brain: The discovery draft.
This is pure, right-brained creative writing. Now that I have a basic sense of where I’m going, I just let ‘er rip. I try really hard to not censor anything and allow myself to go with whatever my subconscious tosses up at me. There’s tons of terrific stuff down there in our mental basement, along with an entire group of muses wanting to have their say. In Theodosia, much to my chagrin, I found I kept writing about her hat, and her not wearing one and getting in trouble for it. Enough already, I thought. But then at the end, I realized the hat was a lovely concrete object to stand in for her Father’s feelings toward her. If I had censored that out or tried to stifle it in any way, I would have missed out on a terrific ‘showing’ detail that kept me from having to ‘tell’.
Step Three – Left Brained: Structure
Once I’ve put aside the discovery draft to ferment, the structure loving half of my left brain comes out to play. And yes, even the left brain likes to play, even if it’s preferred method of play makes your palms break out in a sweat. I make lists of every scene in the book. On a spreadsheet. In one column I might note the source of conflict, to be sure there is one in that scene, and the next column might note what the plot goal of the scene is. If I have many subplots or plot threads, I’ll color code the scenes so I can be sure I’m keeping them balanced and not dropping any sub plot for too long a time. (Some people achieve these same goals with notecards or storyboards.) The thing I love about this method is that it allows me to see my entire novel at a glance, which is hugely helpful when looking at structure. And yes, I even—horrors!—graph my plots. (Just ask anyone who’s taken my online Revision class.) It allows me to check for rising action, to make sure the novel is getting more dramatic, more tense the closer to the end that I go.
Step Four – Right Brain: Deep Characterization work
This is where I go deep into all my characters heads. I usually have a pretty thorough idea of the main character, but in order to fully flesh out the novel, I have to know equally well all the characters. So I spend a few weeks journaling each of them to be sure I understand their motivations so I can make their actions and interactions believable. This is also where I look for all the breadcrumbs the Girls in the Basement might have left me. Things like the hat, that might lead me to something rich or thematic. You’d be surprised at how many clues your subconscious can leave you!
Step Five – Left Brain: Weaving and Polishing (Sounds like a day at a spa, doesn’t it? I wish!)
This is where I go in and weave everything from steps three and four into the manuscript and do a final editorial polish, cutting as much prose as I can. I am a huge overwriter (although, not on purpose) and Theodosia’s voice is especially prone to this, so I cut cut cut.
Such is my bizarre process. I realize it doesn’t work for everyone. Heck, it might not work for anyone but me, and that's fine. We writers are notorious for needing to march to our own drummer. (Ha! Get it? MARCH! I crack myself up some times.)
Wednesday, November 22, 2006
The Queen of Multiple Drafts
Um, that would be me. Unfortunately. And I’m not talking about three or four drafts. No, I’m talking more in the realm of ten or twelve or even—when working on a problem child of a manuscript—fifteen.
This kind of embarrasses me. I feel like a kid who has to keep taking a test over and over again until I manage to pass.
So, in an attempt to embrace my flaws and convert them into strengths (hey, I make my characters do it, seems only fair I should give it a try) I remind myself that writing isn’t a test, and there’s no finish line until I say so. So I’m beginning to take a perverse pride in these multiple drafts. (Perverse being the key word.) After all, they’re part of the quirky, wonderful, frustrating process that got me here…
So take heart if you’re not getting it right the first time. There are many (okay, at least one—moi) who rewrite ad nauseam.
My drafting process goes something like this:
First draft – Nailing the voice. This is critical for me because I refuse to write an entire book in the wrong voice. (Although I once did an entire mss alternating between 1st and 3rd POV because I couldn’t decide which one to use and that way would only have to rewrite half the book when I finally did make up my mind. See quirky, frustrating process reference above.) Sometimes this comes immediately and sometimes it can take up to a dozen tries, but I’m only working with the first twenty pages or so, which keeps it from being too painful.
Second draft – Dialog. In fact, this draft tends to look like a radio screenplay, nothing but dialog and an occasional physical action or quick paragraph of narrative. This is because my characters reveal themselves to me through their dialog. (Which is basically a polite way of saying I’m one of those writers who hears voices.) Entire conversations often come alive on the page, which is one of the very cool things about writing.
Third draft – Blocking. This is where I place these disembodied talkers into the physical world around them.
Fourth – Eleventh draft – Structure. This is the draft where I make sure I have an actual plot. I dissect everything that isn’t working and rebuild it using some sort of structure. I check for conflict and dramatic tension, make sure that every scene relates to the plot and moves the story forward. Check for cause and effect—that my characters’ actions are driving the plot and it’s not a string of pearls. Depending on how organic this story is, this can take one to umpteen drafts. Although, I do work in acts. By breaking my mss down into acts it’s much easier to manage. At least for me. Consequently, the first half of the manuscript may have fifteen drafts, but the last act only three or four, because I’ve gotten so much worked out by then.
Twelfth draft – Polishing. This is where I pay close attention to the language, making sure it’s as tight and evocative as I can make it. Also where I check for grammar gaffes, typos, etc.
It's pretty easy to see why I'm so very envious of those of you who can get it right in three. That is SO not me. Never will be, I’m afraid.
This kind of embarrasses me. I feel like a kid who has to keep taking a test over and over again until I manage to pass.
So, in an attempt to embrace my flaws and convert them into strengths (hey, I make my characters do it, seems only fair I should give it a try) I remind myself that writing isn’t a test, and there’s no finish line until I say so. So I’m beginning to take a perverse pride in these multiple drafts. (Perverse being the key word.) After all, they’re part of the quirky, wonderful, frustrating process that got me here…
So take heart if you’re not getting it right the first time. There are many (okay, at least one—moi) who rewrite ad nauseam.
My drafting process goes something like this:
First draft – Nailing the voice. This is critical for me because I refuse to write an entire book in the wrong voice. (Although I once did an entire mss alternating between 1st and 3rd POV because I couldn’t decide which one to use and that way would only have to rewrite half the book when I finally did make up my mind. See quirky, frustrating process reference above.) Sometimes this comes immediately and sometimes it can take up to a dozen tries, but I’m only working with the first twenty pages or so, which keeps it from being too painful.
Second draft – Dialog. In fact, this draft tends to look like a radio screenplay, nothing but dialog and an occasional physical action or quick paragraph of narrative. This is because my characters reveal themselves to me through their dialog. (Which is basically a polite way of saying I’m one of those writers who hears voices.) Entire conversations often come alive on the page, which is one of the very cool things about writing.
Third draft – Blocking. This is where I place these disembodied talkers into the physical world around them.
Fourth – Eleventh draft – Structure. This is the draft where I make sure I have an actual plot. I dissect everything that isn’t working and rebuild it using some sort of structure. I check for conflict and dramatic tension, make sure that every scene relates to the plot and moves the story forward. Check for cause and effect—that my characters’ actions are driving the plot and it’s not a string of pearls. Depending on how organic this story is, this can take one to umpteen drafts. Although, I do work in acts. By breaking my mss down into acts it’s much easier to manage. At least for me. Consequently, the first half of the manuscript may have fifteen drafts, but the last act only three or four, because I’ve gotten so much worked out by then.
Twelfth draft – Polishing. This is where I pay close attention to the language, making sure it’s as tight and evocative as I can make it. Also where I check for grammar gaffes, typos, etc.
It's pretty easy to see why I'm so very envious of those of you who can get it right in three. That is SO not me. Never will be, I’m afraid.
