Learning to Love Revision: Laurel Yourke’s Beyond the First Draft
How can a writer develop the
perspective needed to look back on their own work? How do you go from the
writing headspace to the revising headspace?
Viewing your own work objectively is
one of the toughest tasks any writer faces. But lots of solutions exist—some
playful, others serious. A playful one is to don a hat. Several writers I work
with have a revision hat, an outlining one, and perhaps a beret for the first
draft. If you find that cutesy, you could try printing or reading aloud—whatever
slows you down. Finally, anything that forces you to view your own words from a
different angle will be enormously helpful.
Why not check how many sentences start
the same way. Or whether the dialogue of every character sounds completely
different. Readers instinctively sense delivery from the character versus the
narrator. Assessing that difference can provide the greatest objectivity of
all. This distinction is discussed at great length in Beyond the First
Draft.
The process of creating the original
manuscript is a fairly uncensored one. I say “fairly,” because I can’t agree
with Anne Lamott, famous for promoting the “shitty” first draft. If you write
totally fast and free—without a single constraint, you’re going to have a big
mess to clean up. You might have to discard huge portions. Worse, you might
rationalize that the bad parts aren’t actually that bad. What’s useful about
that?
A happy medium between creativity and
constraint works for every stage of the writing process, from the first version
to the fifth, and even the fifteenth. If you’re doing it right, every stage
includes both rigor and freedom. The difference is that while the first draft
is often about what the author wants to offer, revision is always about what
readers want to receive.
The trick is asking yourself questions that get you as clairvoyant about your readers as possible. Is the writing clear enough, or too obvious? Are you first “telling,” then “showing”—or the reverse? Do you interrupt the plot to “teach” instead of advancing the story? Do you offer maximum emotion and suspense? Along with reading widely in the genre you write in, asking questions helps you write the book readers want to read.
What are some common issues first drafts have, and where should writers start with fixing them? Should we tackle plotholes first, or go after continuity problems, or develop characters, or something else?
I encourage writers to start with the structure. Is the plot skimpy or overly broad? Are the characters complex? Does the story as a whole hang together? Unless you nail the scenario first, it’s like applying a fresh coat of paint to a house that has termites. After you shore up the big stuff, you can look at everything else. Does every chapter start and end with a hook? Do you provide all the tension you possibly can? Is the prose concise and the sentences smooth?
What sort of process do you use
when you do your own revisions?
Both as a novelist and a writing coach, I’m a ridiculous perfectionist. Over decades of working with writers, I’ve become accustomed to diagnosing why scenes work—or don’t—and how to repair them. For better or worse, I apply everything I’ve discovered over the decades to everything I write myself. So once I’m satisfied with the the deep structure, I go over and over my pages, listening for the sound of dialogue, adding micro-tension, and forcing myself to delete every word that doesn’t add.
How can you develop the stamina to get through the lengthy revision process?
So many myths about revision exist: it’s scary, boring, or frustrating. It can actually make your writing worse. People place too much value on it. No, no, and no. Revision is ultimately the most thrilling part of the writing process. It’s like finding a chunk of boulder opal and cutting away the drab outside to reveal the gem within. It takes tons of polishing to expose an opal beautiful enough for jewelry.
Story is the same. If you love your book, don’t you want to continue polishing until you’ve revealed all its facets, all its beauty?
How do you know when you’re done revising and the draft’s ready to go to an editor?
Feedback is really the best way to ascertain how ready your writing is for an audience. Ideally, you get this feedback from other writers and never from those who simply say “This is so great. Good for you.” Critique groups are everywhere—online, at colleges and universities, and in most towns and cities. Only accept feedback from those you respect, and then truly address what they suggest before sending manuscripts out to professionals. And be wary of unprofessional professionals. Alas, there are hundreds of them out there.
Author and writing coach Laurel Yourke’s Beyond the First Draft is available here.