Re-Writes, the horror I must face.

12/1/2024 10:13 AM CST

Dear Reader,

Ok. So far, the general topics we have covered are my influences, how I got into reading, how I got into writing, and my adventures in accidental publishing.

Today, I want to talk about rewrites, a subject I once hated but am looking to embrace.

"Write a second draft."

I cringed each time I heard some seasoned editor or agent say it in a "Helpful Tips for Writers" video or when I read it as advice from writers in their blogs. These writers were clearly lying. There is no way they abandoned their 90k-word draft, started over from scratch, and wrote an entirely fresh draft. They obviously want other writers to waste their time and ruin their work, right?

My work is a labor of love. I pored over that manuscript for long hours, and there is a delicate balance of symbolism and scenes that unconsciously convey a deeper message and theme. Obviously, I should just do a little editing, revising, and proofreading, and it will be ready for publishing and a spot on the best sellers list, right? 

My first draft is obviously that good.

But I have been learning more and more to be patient, so I let that OBVIOUSLY BRILLIANT first draft sit in the folder for about two months before I started to look at it critically again.

Color me shocked when I noticed that I had not established a single word of setting in the first chapter. By chapter three I provided extensive detail about a location we were not yet at, but none about the main character’s current whereabouts. It was not until I got to the first sentence of chapter four that I mentioned anything about our character’s location.

If this had been a deliberate choice, that would be one thing. But it was not a deliberate choice. It was an accident. I had been rushing, trying to work exposition around a more subtle conversation, and had forgotten to set the table. Hell, I didn’t even give the reader a table at all. I just set the meal on the ground and said, “Eat up. It's so good.” The whole time not even noticing I am doing anything wrong, like, “My guests will love this. They won’t mind.”

That was one major problem.

Then I ran across something that one character said to another. It just felt so wrong. So backwards. Here is the snippet of dialogue that I am definitely going to cut:

“You’re telling me that you own the [REDACTED] Lake? The property that the whole lake is named after?”

And other gems like:

“Well, if you do own the property called [REDACTED] Lake, you should know that the whole lake is named after that property because…"

Now, I don’t know how glaringly obvious it is to you, but the second I read both of those sentences, which are no more than a paragraph apart, by the way, I felt the clunkiness of it. I remember that those phrases even felt wrong while I was writing them, but I knew what I was trying to convey, so I just pushed ahead anyway.

The point of those snippets of dialogue is supposed to be that the main character’s property is historically significant to the area and to the lake. Why I got hung up on the idea that naming the property came first and then the lake was named after the property? I have no idea.

Not only is this a problem in the chapter, but I know I bring up the exact or similar phrasing at least three or four more times in the book. This backwards idea that the property was named [REDACTED] Lake first, and THEN they named the lake [REDACTED] Lake, keeps popping up out of different characters’ mouths.

While reading through the early chapters, I was suddenly struck with the memory that I used a cheap trick to sew together disparate scenes in the last quarter of the novel. That cheap trick was that the protagonist starts to experience gaps in time and awareness. While these blackouts were perfectly intentional for at least one of the occasions, I remember relying on it as a crutch whenever I wasn’t sure how to move forward with a scene. Again, I was just trying to power through to the ending.

I am glad I didn’t send this first draft off to agents or publishers. I would be so embarrassed. I can see tons of potential in the draft; don’t get me wrong. A compelling story is in there somewhere, and it's mostly right there at the surface, but the direction, pacing, and prose aren’t always the strongest.

So, I am finally going to take the advice of writers that know far better than I and do a second draft of a full-length manuscript. This is probably a baby step in the grand scheme of things, but I am glad that I am taking it. 

First, I am going to make a plan. I am going to read through the first draft and make comments on the draft itself for sections that I have strong feelings about, either good or bad. I am also going to keep notes on the chapters as I go, about what the chapter is trying to accomplish, what is happening with pacing versus what should be happening, and my knee-jerk reaction to how the smaller scenes within the chapter should be arranged.

These are all ideas I am keeping in mind while planning a detailed outline for my next try.

Another thing I have heard is that adverbs are considered weak writing and should be used sparingly; I cringe every single time I hear or read this, because I love my adverbs, but I will try to apply the philosophy of replacing them with description and action to my work and see if it improves the text. It also was not until recently that I fully grasped the difference between “showing” and “telling” as it relates to the famous idiom, “Show, don’t tell.” More on these concepts later.

Also, it wasn’t until I was finished with the first draft of the manuscript that I became consciously aware of the themes that were obviously emerging from the story. So now, as I rewrite, I can see if a scene serves both the plot and the themes. I can also see if the shape of my plot supports the ending and the way I want it to impact the reader. These are all things that I am going to keep in mind as I put the next draft to paper, and I believe that the story will benefit greatly from it.

I’ve converted to the Church of Multiple-Draft-ism, and I am willing to start the practice.