POINT OF VIEW (aka POV)

 

The voice of a story comes to me in the form of a line. For me, it’s usually the first sentence/paragraph.

 

This line also contains the point of view. I don’t recall ever “choosing” it, it chose itself.

 

This post explains how pivotal the POV is to the rest of the story. It is more important than plot points or list of characters or even theme. The first two evolve and change as one drafts and later revises, the last emerges on its own if the story is worth its salt and pepper.

 

But the POV determines almost everything, and if (unlike me) you aren’t seeing it clearly and wonder whose it is, consider how much difference it would make if the narrative thread is seen from, say, Aunt Olga’s vantage point or Cousin Vladimir’s. It makes all the difference.

 

There is also the so-called omniscient POV, less humbly called G-d’s. I don’t write this all-seeing POV because 1. I don’t know how to do it justice, and 2. The remove feel of it doesn’t drive my writerly engine.

Long ago, a writing friend asked me to read part of a novel she was working on and asked if the POV was omniscient.

“Actually, it isn’t. It’s ‘head hopping’,” I said.

Head hopping is moving from different characters inner most awareness without so much as taking a breath, which causes a jumble and disjointed state in a reader. Omniscience requires some remove. A lot of novice writers confuse the two.

My friend resolved to pick one character’s vantage point and stick with it.

 

When writing in first person, it’s clear whose POV it is. When writing in third person, it’s important not to stray from what the character could know or see or even overhear. If more than one POV is needed, there are good novels that alternate different chapters clearly marked for changing the POV. A classic example of multiple POV is The View from Saturday by E.L. Konigsburg.

 

I will continue to let my stories choose, because it works for the way I work.

POV^

DRAFTING DRAFTS

 

I was mulling over the strange creatures called Second Drafts.

(Full disclosure, my WIP is now on its fifth draft, which is not nearly as interesting)

 

So, if first drafts are the first-time words typed onto a document (or penned on a page) and subsequent drafts are re-visioning aspects of the story to a neater, shinier polish, what in the plumb-cake is worth noting about draft number two?

 

To me, it turns out to be the very first time I meet the story, as in, “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Story.”

 

Yeah, I wrote it. But while first drafting I was not fully conscious, and I was not “other.” I lived it, suffered it, rejoiced with it, and finally collapsed on my bed to rest when the whole adventure ended, hopefully in a fine resolution.

 

I try to neither look nor think of the story for a month after first drafting. I am catching my breath the way one does after a race, waiting for the steady pace of ordinary breathing and life to return. Only after that happens, will I embark on the next stage, where I meet the story.

 

It’s an interesting experience. In the best case, I have to force myself to stop after a daily portion of polish/add/strike out, usually not exceeding two thousand words or so. When the story (which I had written, so you’d think I should know how it goes) is riveting, it means that it’s working.

When it isn’t, I mull over why. Both happen even in the same manuscript.

 

It’s a heady thing to be surprised by one’s own creative choices. Think of it as a rare opportunity to make one’s own acquaintance. Friends who are not writers have described something like it when remembering something they had done or said which they long forgot. A friend to whom I quoted a letter she had sent long ago put it this way: “Did I say this? That was very insightful of me.”

 

Yes, second drafts are interesting. It’s worth first drafting just to have the second draft experience.

HOW MANY NAMES IS TOO MANY?

 Some years back, a publishing professional suggested I not introduce so many characters by name in the first chapter.

I counted the names in chapter one of the manuscript. There were six fully named, plus three who were mentioned by function, not a name. (Think “her uncle” or “his teacher.”)

Was this too many? She was a publishing professional, so I revised. I found another way to introduce the named operators of the story. A technique I borrowed from a book I read when I was ten served its purpose. After all, the publishing professional specifically said young readers couldn’t hold that many names right off the bat, and bringing up Tolstoy’s War and Peace with his propensity to name hundreds of characters would not be a proper defense. Anyway, I was not writing an epic novel. This was a spy story for middle grade readers.

 

I remembered this advice, and have counted the number of characters introduced by name in the first chapter(s) ever since. No matter that an award-winning writer of middle grade novels ignores this advice, (not naming him. I like his books) and that less than lauded books I have read and respected don’t follow it. I’m not in their league, and so I heed this generally good guidance.

 

How many is too many? I try to name four or less. General advice is not to exceed ten to fifteen in the story as a whole. There will be time for other names to come in and go out. First chapters should focus on attachment to the main character. Many names will only serve to distance, and even not so young readers might close the book before they reach the second chapter.

M is for MOTIVATION

 

Motivation—the kind that propels our actions (such as my writing this post) is key to a good story.

As a Beta reader, I have read manuscripts that had the plot move in just the right pace with all the arc points reached as a good story requires, and with the bonus of some surprises. “Save the Cat” and other how-to books on storytelling have done their job, and writers know what are the considered “must-haves.”

I’ve read some stories where the setting was interesting, the main character fully fleshed, and the descriptions added color in just the right amount. These are the craft aspects of good writerly executions.

But what is often not fully attended to is the motivation. Specifically, all the major characters’ motivations. This is most true with the so-called “quiet” stories, the ones that are reflective and capture a moment in time. Lyrical, lovely, just stop and smell the lilacs. All good. But what happens if the main character doesn’t?

Some refer to this aspect as “the stakes.” In stories where the stakes are not what drives them, there should still be a reason for characters to act the way they do, and the reasons should be compelling.

So, motivation. Reminder to self: a strong motivation drives the vehicle. Step on the internal gas pedal.

Oh, No. Not about them* RULES, Again

 

*Yup, I know the extra ‘m’ is not grammatical. I’m making a point

 

Some months ago in a writerly Facebook group, someone lamented at her discovery while editing her own work. “Turns out,” she wrote, “I’m a fan of passive writing and telling not showing.” 😰

While I’m paraphrasing and also omitting some of her original pulling-one’s-own-hair in-shame post, I will quote my response post in full because I don’t need my own permission to quote me:

 

“Passive construction and telling have their place. Just make sure they don't sit and stay where they are not serving their purpose. Passive is what you use when you want to fuzzy something and cover with fog. (Someone *was killed,* no idea by whom.)

Telling is an economical way to get through parts so the showing parts get to shine by contrast.”

 

The first writerly mistake is not knowing the rules and why they’re there. The second is to treat writing advice as absolute. 

You can quote me on it. 👆

 

Getting off the preacher’s pedestal now.

THE BEST MONEY I EVER SPENT AS A WRITER

The title of this post is misleading in my case, because technically the money was spent by DH, which technically isn’t me.

 Here goes:

Confession time: I’ve not spent much $ as a writer. I spent lots of time, thought, and effort. Money hasn’t been in the equation. I imagine for the self-published the money they spent and how they chose to prioritize is pivotal.

 

But there was some money spent, regardless. Count membership at SCBWI, a few conferences, paper & mailing (in the ancient days pre-all digital submissions) and a few books on the craft or business of writing. It adds up to something.

 

The latter brings me to the best money spent from my address. It was a birthday present from DH twelve years ago; a curiously titled The Complete idiot’s Guide to Publishing Children’s Books.

Note that the word “complete” refers to the idiotic reader. In reality, this book is more of a complete guide and the reader is no idiot but a smart person because they know they don’t know.

 

This basic book was the best investment, as it did cover almost anything a novice needed answered. As a tiny bonus, it also served as an acknowledgement of one’s status as a know-nothing, something to keep inflated egos in check for the barrage of inevitable rejections to come.

For the novice it’s $ well spent.

IF YOU HAVE A FRIEND WHO DRAWS, WRITES, OR PERFORMS...

You may know the brilliant children’s book series IF YOU GIVE A MOUSE A COOKIE. This post is not about that if, but about the inevitable creative friends you have (I sure do) whose output you are aware of.

My personal experience is on both sides of this aisle. I’m one who writes and the mother of a performer and the sister of another. I’m an audience member and art-lover. I’ve read plenty on writers and illustrators’ chat boards and heard even more in personal interactions.

This post is about how well-meaning friends and relations manage to inadvertently stick daggers into the creative bubbles. It’s one thing if they intend to, but this is about the unintended insults born of (let’s be generous here) ignorance.

The most common ones are going into the list below. Feel free, in the service of enlightenment, to add in the comments.

The first one is the biggiest of biggies.

*Don’t ask to read/see/listen to your friends’ creative work and then say nothing. If you can give constructive criticism, that is helpful. You can always couch it with what you genuinely thought worked. But saying nothing is the worst. If you really thought it was not good, say something, and don’t ask again. One writer I know said a relative walked over to tell him she had read his book. Then, you guessed it, nothing. Relative changed the subject.

Don’t. Do. That.

*Don’t offer advice about something you know less than little about. A writer on a chat-board lamented her husband told her she should “storm the acquisitions meeting” at a publisher, after her agent told her the manuscript was going to acquisitions that Tuesday. Maybe in husband’s business this is done, (doubtful) but a more likely explanation for this sort of advice came from seeing movies or reading “take charge of your life” silly how-to books. Similar nonsense advice is to pester published writers for “their connections.” This is how corporate America works, but not fine publishing.

*Be fair and accept that if you don’t like something, someone else might like it. Creative output appreciation is subjective. Professional reviewers ignore this stance, as they must convey confidence and the illusion their assessments are objective. They are paid to believe this and make us believe. Don’t. Be. That.

Reading the above, it is tempting to never ask to see or hear others’ work. But if you’re genuinely interested and your creative asked for your advice, be a good friend and do the best you can. If you know you can’t, be a good friend and say you can’t.

My Beta readers are the bestest and I try to be half as good to my friends as they are to me.

Character and Theme

Most good stories are memorable because of their characters.

Most writerly how-to advice says to start with character.

I always had the themes first. What is this about? Only then the “who is this about” seeped in.

Developing the characters took care and deliberateness. The theme came naturally, the characters less so.

A few months ago, an unusual character popped in, and I followed this character to the end of the story.

One member of my critique group said, “Cute character, but you need to develop the theme.”

Blasted bubblegum! My way of writing had changed.

Of course, it isn’t either or. There’s more than one way. But for the first time I realize that no matter how old I am or how long I’ve been at it, I, too, am a writerly work-in-progress.

So the theme of this post is change is eternal 😉

Looking for Balance

When DS, an enthusiastic baking intern at the home kitchen, noted how quickly the dough rose as compared to his previous experiences, I commented on the role of sugar to jazz up the yeast, and salt to retard yeasty over-exuberance.

Put it this way: it’s a prized balance of the bready arts.

This made a literary quote pop out of my memory bank:

“Adjectives are the sugar of literature and adverbs the salt.”

Henry James

I use adjectives, and I use adverbs. I’m aware of their effects and omit them where they add nothing. I kill them where they detract. But they have their place, and the key is balance.

No slavish rule following will help achieve balance. Great writing is just this, measured and effective. Like fresh bread, which is neither too light nor too doughy.

Wow. So many adjectives in this post. Which should I have cut?

Writers’ Conferences

Or

Writers and Conferences

I wrote this post *just* before COVID-19 blasted the four corners of the earth, and all conferencing went virtual. I put the post on the back burner, thinking I may or may not post it shortly/later/never.

I decided that, although it chimes positively anachronistic at the moment, it's also positive to think of in-person conferences as something we'll get to experience again. Some of the points I made could apply to virtual conferences, which are ongoing.

My personal experience of conferences for writers is limited. I’ve attended two, and presented in one. I’m no maven. If you want the most comprehensive guide to such, check this link from the best go-to guide, posted shortly before the SCBWI Winter conference in New York City. This yearly event is mammothian (just made up this word 😉) but there are many much smaller and more manageable gatherings for the uninitiated.  Jane Friedman tells all in the most helpful way, as always.

But my post is about a personal experience at the first regional conference I attended. Take it as a cautionary tale, or just a funny story if you find the image of someone slipping on a banana peel hilarious.

I was not a complete newbie, and I already knew that conferences are not the place to shove one’s manuscript into the hand of a pleasantly conversing agent or editor. Outside of pitching sessions specifically designated for it, it is bad form to push one’s work when not asked.

Even if I hadn’t known this, (from talking with very experienced writers) common sense would have prevented me from doing something as unthinkable as sliding a manuscript under a bathroom stall where a professional is relieving herself. I heard of such horrors and couldn’t believe a civilized person would do something like that, but it seems every conference brings back some stories that amount to this sort of conduct.

I’m also a shy person who does her best to compensate by being friendly. I smile a lot in a room full of strangers when our eyes meet. Maybe too much, but it’s a coping mechanism that occasionally manages to help not only me, but also the person I smiled at.

So on that lovely fall day, right after the registrants completed a check-in, a bunch of us strangers stood outside the main conference room awkwardly smiling. That was when I spotted a heavy-set young woman who looked incredibly unhappy, coming out of the rest room. I hadn’t seen a single person in that hallway that looked as miserable. She looked like she was about to cry and then pass out.

My empathetic (and also shy) nature immediately felt like asking her if she was okay. Instead, when we made eye contact, I smiled and said, “Hi!”

My over-friendly tone was genuine; here was another soul feeling much more awkward than I. Poor thing.

If looks could kill, the look I got back from her would have.

Boy-oh-boy, I thought. This one is one to stay away from.

Only moments later, at the Welcome address, I saw my would-be-killer on the stage. She was the keynote speaker and the big-five editor many came to hear.

I did an internal silent face-palm. So this is who that was, I thought. How was I supposed to know? I never googled the speakers so I would recognize them on sight.

That very moment I realized she thought I was one of those pesky folks who ambush an editor as she comes out of the bathroom. As in, my next move right after the “hi” was to shove something into her hand.

So to Jane Friedman’s excellent post I would add— don’t do as I did then. When we get to gather again, remember that such coziness was never welcomed even in halcyon days, pre-pandemic.

In addition to researching the speakers, make sure to google the speakers with images so you recognize them ahead of time, and if you see any of them coming out of the bathroom, look away. 😔

©Joann Mannix 2012

Managing Time

a.k.a “Time-management”

“Where did the time go?”

“Forwards, darling. Always forward.”

Time marches in one direction and, except for sojourns of the mind, don’t believe the physicists who tell you it’s the fourth dimension and as such it is a line you can move your dot on in either direction. Those same scientists also say the earth is round and, hey, it looks pretty flat to me.

My jesting way of saying our experience is that time runs like sand through our sieving hands.

Some years ago, I was blessed with finding a personal key to managing time. It came just in time, (pun intended) when my life became impossible to manage as a classic “sandwich generation” mom and daughter. But I had the tools, and by golly, I managed to take care of all my responsibilities and also write original fiction.

The key, for me, was to set a daily schedule of the minimal I must get done, and make it utterly doable. If anything, make it “under-ambitious,” so tackling the day’s tasks was not daunting. This is a system set for a marathon, not a sprint. I not only got the “must-do” done, I was less stressed about my time.

And here’s the secret kicker: always leave some time for nothing. That is nothing planned, where I can do nothing, do something I want to do, or attend to the inevitable emergencies that pop up. Nothing Time is sacred, and it is part of time management success.

With the rare exceptions of chaotic days (I take that possibility for granted), this system works for me to this day. Time moves forward, and I’m gliding on it.

I hope you find what works for you, so you don’t look back and say you didn’t get to do something you always wanted to do because you didn’t have the time.

Opening Paragraphs

Every writer knows how important a strong, engaging, punch ‘em in the gut opening is to selling a story.

It’s the antithesis to the way we teach schoolchildren to write letters, beginning with “dear so-and-so” and proceeding with “I am writing to you...”

BO-RRR-ING.

The first paragraph is a rude thing. With it, we must break ingrained habits of polite address, which build methodically and leisurely to the point of why we are writing in the first place. None of that pitter-patter to the entrance, folks.

But I find the first paragraph serves not only to engage a reader, but to set me, the writer, on the right course. It is a reminder of who, (the voice, i.e. the personality of the narration) the why, (why is writing the whole thing worth my while) the what, (the theme is embedded right there) the where, (at least in terms of how it's emotionally situated if not physically as well) and the when.

If, along the winding way of first drafting, I find myself unsure of any of the above^, I re-read and reorient with the help of that first paragraph. In the event that it doesn’t serve to correct my writerly meandering, it’s a failure.

It’s not only for the reader or the marketing department. Great first paragraphs are the writer’s lighthouse to get back home. 

©Shelagh Duffett

Going for a Hike

When I read that a writer revised a novel sixty-four or a hundred-and-eleven times, I am not awed. I'm baffled.

Tackling a revision is like going for a hike.

First draft, for those of us who are planners, is like going for a hike to an unknown place but using a map. Pantsters (those who write by the seat of their pants, no outline) are hiking to unknown places without a map. Pantsters have only a vague sense of where they must end, which is some variation of home, be it a mental or emotional state for the main character or the plot coming to a place of equilibrium.

I always work on the first and second draft alone, and it’s the closest I come to hiking without a map. By the second draft I already know the trail (=first draft) but now I must see if this was a good, satisfying hike. Before anyone else’s feedback, I’m not clear how to asses. So I made some standard questions I ask myself as I go.

Theme?

Consistent voice?

Foreshadowing?

End that echoes the beginning?

Now it’s time to have others join me; Beta readers, whose feedback is invaluable. Their specific comments become the trail map for the next outing= the third draft. I find it much easier to revise to specific feedback. It is like hiking with specific places to pass on the way.

Revising is also akin to hiking in that after many rounds you stop seeing much of the road. It just goes by with nary a single detail noted. This is why my process stops at the fifth or sixth draft. For me, there's a point where I no longer see what a reader would, and that's where I'm done. I’m always ready to go back after some time has passed, or an acquired manuscript gets new eyes to guide it. But on my own, it’s a five-six times trek.

Because writing, like hiking, is an effort that should reveal and enhance, not suck the life out of the traveler. 

The Less Ordered Gardens

Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells, and cockle shells,
And pretty maids all in a row.

Olde English Nursery Rhyme

My late father had two sayings he repeated. The first was, “I’m always right,” said in jest, sort of. The second was, “you should write in a less ordered way.” The latter he said in all seriousness, but with affection and the intent to help my writing.

I could blame my structured writing on reading and incorporating too much writing conventions and advice. But, in truth, I am a person who fears disorder. My living space has everything in place, and I spent much time putting it just so.

I thought about it the other day when I walked by two homes one next to the other. The first had gardening of tight orderliness, and the second resisted it.

As I looked at them side by side, (photographs of the actual gardens below) I could hear my father's voice telling me to loosen some of my ordered ways.

The cultivated wild look is known as an English-style garden. I much prefer them to the French gardens, so manicured and carved to perfect symmetry. English gardens take as much work to control and sustain, but they look as if nature could have sprung them forth.

French Style Garden^

English Style garden^

Great stories are the same. They have bones, (for coherent meaning, which comes from internal symmetry) but feel organic, as if one unexpected thing led to another to make a living thing.

I’m in the midst of first drafting a less ordered story. Yes, my father was right.

© By Shelagh Duffett

What Creatives Crave---

An Audience!

In her excellent collection of essays about the writing life, (Bird by Bird) Anne Lamott tells of her experience teaching writing classes. She writes that her students do not so much want to learn how to write better, but how to get an agent and how to be published. Her answer, that they should learn to write better and even then, most will not be traditionally published, satisfies no one. They are hoping that by taking her class they will get an introduction to the main table or at least to her agent or editor.

This is less a quest for riches than a need to put one’s skills to use and connect.

Because a writer is seeking readers. An actor is seeking an audience. We know our stories well, but we want you to hear them. We also want to hear yours. We want to reach out beyond the confines of our own minds and bodies, and be connected to others out there.

And so we conjure and we laugh and we marvel and we bleed onto the page, or the stage, and are surprised anew at how unfazed the world is by our offerings.

This is the real story of creatives. Mind you, we’re also surprised when the world takes notice. We never know what to make of it.

I use the plural tense of “we” here not as the Royal We, but because I am fortunate to be connected to other creatives in my family and many friends, and we all share this.

We want to connect with you.

Stories and Real Life

A writer friend lamented that she gets feedback from readers who complain that her stories are open ended. “Isn’t that what real life is?” she said.

Yes, sort of, maybe. But there are real differences between real life stories and stories about life, real or otherwise.

Stories have a beginning and an end. As we live, we experience many beginnings but few solid resolutions.

Stories may have an unreliable narrator. Think of the Books Shutter Island and Gone, Girl, (both made into good movies) or in kidlit— When You Reach Me. In real life we are all somewhat unreliable narrators, only we rarely get to figure this out like omniscient readers do.

Stories make sense. If they don’t, they fail. In real life, we leave that overall sense to the originator of all things. Hard as some try, making sense of everything all the time makes Johnny or Sally insufferable.

In stories, every detail must count. In real life, while the details that turn out to count are more memorable, they are also few.

We need stories to make sense and give meaning to experiences. This is why stories are organizers of experience.

Okay, back to organizing.

Listening to Books

Do you like Audio Books?

My experience is both limited and mixed.

I listened to a few books on long drives. I can firmly state that they helped me get through the long commutes. I have a friend who swears gardening and house cleaning are much improved with a good book in her ears.

But it is a different sort of experience. It is not reading, as the content and plot are absorbed, I suspect, by a different part of the brain.

For one thing, the complete focus that reading while not doing anything else is gone. Paying attention to the traffic or the weeds is not trivial. For another, the emotional flavor of the words is colored by the reading voice, and the reading voice is rarely the inner voice inside your head.

In other words, (pun intended) the reader makes all the difference.

Here is a link to a good post about writers who are tempted to produce/read their own audio books.

So far, my personal experience is that for less demanding commercial books, audio books are fine. Especially with a good reader. Exquisite literary fiction still needs my reading eyes.

Taking a Story from Picture Book to Novel

If you’ve been writing and submitting stories to editors or agents, eventually you might get a personal suggestion to take that short story you considered a picture book text and make it a novel for older readers, or take that chapter book and expand it to a novel for young adults.

This is what happened to The Voice of Thunder, which began as a short story I mistook for a potential picture book. This is also how many of the subsequent novels for middle grade readers I have written began their lives.

What does the suggestion to “expand” a story and re-fashion it for older readers mean?

Obviously, it must be longer. Not twice or thrice the word count, but ten to a hundred fold. A five-hundred-word story becomes a fifty-thousand-word story. But this tells of the size of the box, not its content.

Expanding means going both wider and deeper.

Wider pertains to the cast of characters, (more enter the scene) and plot, (many more twists and turns) and adding descriptive passages that the illustrations would have done in the picture book, even as the same arc is essentially already there. You already have the beginning, middle, and end. It’s all the stuff in and around the middle that the writer must conjure.

Deeper means extra layers of character exploration. This applies to all the characters, the ones who were there before and the new ones. They all have a past and wonder about the future. They all have layers of ambiguity where the various forces that drive a character operate, sometimes at cross-purposes.

Writers are advised to make sure the age of the protagonists match the intended readership. This, though a technical detail, also helps navigate the deepening of the characters.

Every time I undertook this challenge, I became ever more appreciative of the art of Picture Books writing. I marvel at how it was all in there in the short version. Longer takes more time, but shorter is harder, believe me.

©Chris Brecheens 2012

How to Popularize a Blog

Ahm...Not

As one whose blog is not the talk of the town, I am an authority on how not to have a blog that gets attention.

When I began blogging, it was at the urging of the small publisher who contracted my book. I had been following a few blogs, but not faithfully. One of my literate friends huffed that writers who blog are giving away their pearls for free, and another writing friend said it gobbled up precious real writing time. So I dipped my toes in with hesitation and little hope that I could do it right.

I looked at blogs that had many followers, and three things stuck out: they either were –
A. Constantly updated resources of useful information
B. Vociferously political bordering on the trolling side
C. Or they were enormously entertaining.

The resource-rich blogs are still staples of the blogosphere, and require work and dedication, as well as passion for the field they serve as resources for. I had to face that, for me, that sort of time and effort is reserved for writing fiction. What is left at the end of the day is all for family and friends.

A couple of examples of excellent resource blogs:

 the amazing Jane Freidman’s, about the business and the craft of writing —

https://www.janefriedman.com/blog/

And Evelyn Christensen’s, (technically not a blog but a website though a periodical E-zine makes it almost a blog,) about writing for the educational market—

http://www.evelynchristensen.com/markets.html 

[It helps, and gives the blog some gravitas, if the aggregator/editor is an authority in the field. Be it Tech-support, Make-up, travelling or writing.]

The political sorts of blogs are not only unsuitable for me, (I am hopelessly centrist there) but I personally have the impediment of becoming nauseous in their vicinity. This is why I won’t give examples of such, though I doubt you need it.

So that left the enormously entertaining, and there I continue to try with occasional success, (minus the “enormously”) which is where my modest weekly strolls have found me.

The thing is, I have found it pleasant and worthwhile, and that’s the best part of doing anything. That’s a variation of “doing it right,” which is right for me right now.

Personal Process

A few months ago a writer on a kid-lit chat board asked how others approach revising a novel. She’s written many picture book texts, but this was her first novel. After completing the first draft, she was stymied as to the next step. “What do you do?” she asked.

Some responded with links to sites that gave directions, while others made specific suggestions. I realized that I could only speak of the way I work. After all, practice helps, and by now I have some. I haven’t published a lot, but I have written and revised a few middle grade novels, and am now working on a new story.

I copy my response here, because it says all I have to offer and because, as I said, I’m busy first drafting. A good excuse for taking the easy way on this blog today.

So here is my process, which may be of some interest, even as every person must forge their own.

It is personal, and it takes some experience to find how you work best. If you are experienced in Picture Book writing and revising, you might take some of what you have learned about your process to a novel. The only difference is the time invested in each draft and thus, proportionally, the time between revisions.


Speaking for myself, the first draft is a plow forward. I'm a combination planner and a bit of a panster, too. (This means I have a very thin outline before I even start, but the fleshing out is done by the seat of my pants, as the saying goes.) First drafting is the reason I am a writer, and for me the rest is the necessary work to make it better. As others said, some love one part and not the other. It's a somewhat different set of problem solving.


I don't even go near a novel for a minimum of two weeks between drafts. Two months is better. By "drafts” I am not referring to tweaks and repairing an inconsistency here and there. I mean substantial changes and meeting the phrasing with fresh eyes, more like a reader than a writer.

The first two real drafts are done with me alone. No one even hears what it's about. I have a lot to work out before I feel "I've got something there." 

Third draft comes after my first beta reader reads and gives developmental comments, points out inconsistencies, (thank you, you know who you are!) and catches typos. I go over the feedback carefully. Sometimes other matters arise for me while doing this.

When done, a full re-read after another break, and then a second beta reader. I look for a reader who might be different from the first in many ways, (mostly in their taste in books and their sensitivities) and when their feedback returns I mull over it in a similar way.

Another break, another read-through, and then I have my own checklist to make sure I have asked myself  if I am clear about the theme, foreshadowing, character development/change, Main Character solving the problem (or coming to terms with it) and so on.
Another read-through, mysteriously catching *even more* typos...

...and then it goes  on submission. When I had an agent, this was the point where I shared it with her, and her feedback made me revise again.  Another revision, sometimes two, before it went out. Subsequent editor's interest means more revising, and the happiest of all are revisions after contract.


As to the mechanics of "how," you really only have your reading ways and your reading eyes. It will not be different from the way you have worked on shorter picture book texts. One writer mentioned she makes a hard copy printed like a book. This is a good technique for many. Not what I use, but I know it helps. Another mentioned reading the text aloud, or having someone else read it back to you. There are some techniques for line editing, also. 


But never feel you must write many drafts, (Stephen King does only three, but to say he's experienced is an understatement) or that what someone else says is a must really is for your way of working. Some writers are very clean grammatically and phasing-wise, and some (like me) can never get rid of all the typos no matter how many times we go over the words.

While first drafting, I refuse to think of all the work to come. I suppose that if I did I might not have the strength to start. I’m glad I wrote this^ months ago, before I put my writing vehicle back in gear.

What's your way?