I find myself in revision mode lately, spending most of the last month surfacing old short stories, flash fictions, poems and reworking them in some way. It’s not unusual for me to go through a few weeks that lean more towards revising and then float back towards a few weeks filled mainly with drafting, free response prompts, etc. I’d love to incorporate both into a balanced week… someday (TBD).
So, revision. What comes to mind when you think of this stage of the writing process, The Edit?
We’re likely all familiar with the ruthless cutting that comes with The Edit. The red pen. The margin comments: is this driving the plot forward?, not sure you need this, or (frequent flyer) could be trimmed. Delete delete delete. “Kill your darlings!” yes, yes, we know the drill.
In college, I actually had this quote pinned up (yes, I was insufferable):
“If a sentence, no matter how excellent, does not illuminate your subject in some new and useful way, scratch it out.” - Vonnegut
So imagine my surprise that most of my revision work this summer is actually about adding.
Adding transitions. Adding movement. Adding hesitations and fidgets and walking.
Seriously, so much walking. My characters might as well be equipped with jetpacks unbeknownst to me, dropping in and out of scenes for their moment.
What does that say about me as a writer? Not that I’m a bad one, no, I refuse to think that. My working theory is that I draft in emotional snapshots. My first drafts are no more than a scaffold- something more than an outline marking time but something less than a full dance, a synchronous orchestra. I’m okay with it, honestly. The characters and their emotions are what draw me in. They are my jumping off point. (For others this may be setting, or even plot. What’s that like, I wonder?) But if I can’t find the emotion and the meaning in a story, I’m unlikely to keep working on it.
First draft? Scenes are choppy, dialogue is rapid fire, and, yes, characters jetpack.
The connective tissue is missing.
So revision, for me, for now, it’s about additions. Letting the story breathe. It helps the reader to imagine the space a character is taking up, and how they fill it.
And letting characters walk around. For real.
Writing three new lines just to explain how someone got from the kitchen, down the hallway, and into the living room.
Making a character physically do something in a scene besides float around with feelings. Is a character nervous? Then they are probably fidgeting with their hands, their hair, maybe bouncing a knee. Observing people IRL is so helpful for these types of ‘demeanor descriptors.’
Making scene transitions less jarring. Smoothing the gaps with an easing in and an easing out.
I’m thinking of this like music. These revisions are like adding breath marks, slurs, the crescendos and diminuendos that turn a collection of notes into an actual composition with musicality. In writing, I think it helps makes the story feel lived in.
In high school, my essays would often get similar feedback. That I jumped too quickly from one thought to the next, and I wasn’t carrying the reader along with me. I was, shocker, too succinct.
Years later, that can still happen. It’s not the end of the world.
Sometimes it takes a few passes before I realize the problem with a scene is that it’s underwritten. I haven’t actually let the characters move through space. I haven’t given the reader enough waypoints to follow the plot path.
So I add.
Just kidding, there are no morals in the editing process.
I’m kidding. Do you think I want to anger the revision gods? (aka, the Editors)
Just edit, and edit, and edit. Cut if it helps. Add if that helps more.
When in doubt, maybe get a second opinion. The phone a friend option sometimes surprises me.
See you out there,
Kate
PS - The draft is still a mess. But with much less jetpacking, thank you very much.
No posts
Comments
Nothing yet. Say the first thing.
Sign in to join the conversation.