I Love Self-Editing

In recent posts, I’ve talked a lot about the self-editing you need to do to your draft manuscript. I fear your spirits might be sinking at the amount of work which looms ahead.

It can be a lot of work. Unless, of course, you’ve decided that every word is perfect, every character fully developed. Then we have a problem of a different sort. But assuming you have identified scenes to fix or write, it may be discouraging. It might even disincline you to do anything further which would be a great shame.

So I am here to tell you that actually, self-editing is fun. Yes, fun. I love to do it, maybe not more than writing itself, but it’s right up there.

This post will try to convince you to take on editing as an adventure rather than a drudge.

Editing seems to be largely about taking out stuff and putting other stuff in. Both are fun.

Self-editing: the taking stuff out

This is more often the copy editing phase. You are looking for the normal grammar, punctuation, missed and extra words. But in addition, there is seeking out and destroying the clumsy bits always in a first draft. Like the “hello, how are you”s and the tortured way you got the character out of the room. Rereading makes you realize you could simply stop the scene rather than have her get up from the chair, say her good-byes, move to the door, take the elevator to the ground floor—you get the picture.

Although this may sound weird, I get a positive thrill in lowering the word count. So much so that I actually track the number cut. Useless, no? But it provides a great sense of satisfaction. I don’t know why, it just does. And this is not just the crazy lady talking—many writers really get into this.

Fundamentally, I think self-editing appeals to my latent Napoleon complex. I am in complete control. I can do anything I want. I can push events around wherever I want. I have the power of life and death over my characters. See, Napoleon.

Self-editing: the putting stuff in

The other part of editing is identifying what is missing. Often scenes needed to clarify the plot or develop a character more fully.

While they probably take more brain power and imagination, these putting in parts also have their appeal. For one thing, you usually have a relatively short scene to write. You already know where you want to go so it is much more doable than writing the full sweep of the novel.

Because in these concentrated bits you already know what you want to accomplish, it allows focus on the quality of the writing rather than juggling plot, character, flow, and theme as you typically have to do when you wrote the novel originally.

There is an unexpected pleasure in having all the pieces of your novel and being able to reconstitute it in a way which is stronger, more elegant, and just plain better.

June 12, 2020June 12, 2020

How to Write an Action Scene

A high-speed, stunt-filled incident isn’t the only thing which qualifies as an action scene. It can be any point in the plot where you want the tension to ratchet up by way of some physical acts. A bitter argument between two characters might be tense but would not typically be seen as action unless/until one socks the other and they get into a punching/hitting fight.

But whether it’s getting out of the wizard’s lair or the hero fleeing from mafia types, you want your reader to be right with your protagonist, weaving and dodging with him towards his goal. The story itself will provide some of the fascination for the reader but there are some quite mechanical ways to heighten the enjoyment of your scene.

Ways to improve an action scene

I’m going to discuss a couple but I can’t emphasize enough that these techniques should be considered after you have written the scene. Don’t start writing with thoughts like “Right—short sentences.” If you do, you risk flattening your writing by focusing on following the rules rather than creating excitement.

Let the creative side run free and after the episode is written, consider the following.

Short sentences

Not: She was stymied by the locked door and didn’t know what to do.

Rather: The door was locked. She was stymied. What to do?

As much as possible, you want to create a kind of staccato effect in your writing. Sentences with more connecting words (e.g. and) are better in more reflective moments.

Action words

Obvious, but sometimes forgotten in the heat of the writing.

Not: She was totally unprepared by the hit of a fist on the side of her head.

Rather: His fist hit on the side of her head.

I think the ‘totally unprepared’ was intended to convey shock or surprise. You could add an adverb like ‘suddenly’ but I have already expressed my views on the overuse of adverbs. I would prefer an action like ‘She staggered.’

Limit internal dialogue

Think about when you have been in an urgent situation—your son has fallen down the stairs or you are in a car accident. Do you think, “Oh my god, what should I do?” Well, you might if you were Hamlet or some other famous ditherer. But more likely, you’d spring into action—checking for injury, calling 911, etc. Keep this in mind when writing these types of events. The characters are generally doing and not thinking about it.

If you want them to react, do it after the action is completed, for good or ill, not during.

Terse dialogue

In a TV show I saw, the spaceship was about to crash land and the pilot yells, “Lower the screens so I can see better.”

First of all this is a bit of an AYKB or an As-You-Know-Bob piece of dialogue intended to tell the reader something that all the characters in the scene already know. In our example, wouldn’t any crew worth its salt already know why the pilot needs the shields down even if you, the reader, may not?

In an emergency situation, the pilot is more likely to yell, “Lower the shields!”

This might seem like a niggle. But you need to remember that if you want your reader to feel the tension of the scene, the characters need to act tense. And this is often communicated through terse dialogue.

Alls to say, remember that people in urgent situations don’t use full sentences, don’t observe social niceties like please and thank you and don’t provide onlookers with background information. Neither should your characters.

June 5, 2020June 5, 2020

Enhancing Character Growth

Character growth—the Holy Grail of writing. Even in a largely plot-driven narrative, novels which also depict their characters evolving add a richness and depth to the story.

I’m not a big fan of knowing exactly how your protagonist will develop. Oh, you might have a vague idea—a story of redemption, for example. But I think it works best if you start with an opening scene—depicting a greedy and callous man, for example—and letting things flow from there.

But you knew that I’d say that, didn’t you, since I generally advocate a haphazard approach to writing?

So, it follows that enhancing character growth is a post-first draft activity. Naturally, you’ve already spent a good deal of time developing and growing your character while writing the novel. This post helps you enhance or highlight the development to strengthen the story.

Character growth questions

Isolate the scenes where your target character appears. I often create separate file with them. Then, answer these questions:

How do you feel about the protagonist?

Really, do you like him? Or, with a really dark character, do you want him to get his comeuppance? Because if you don’t care, how will readers? There has to be enough, even from the beginning, to keep the reader hanging in. If you don’t glom onto the protagonist (can we call him Ben to save me typing?) fairly early, identify scenes which would do this.

What are the critical scenes where Ben grows?

Is this the way you want him to grow?

If so, are there any scenes which need to be strengthened?
If not, how would you like Ben to grow?
Identify some new scenes which might show the intent better.

Is the growth credible?

If Ben goes from crotchety old man to the life of the party in six pages, we have a problem.

Do the scenes transition Ben gradually to the desired end state?
Does each move build on what came before? Say Ben rescues a puppy (I’m not saying it’s a good novel). If this scene happens early on, Ben might hide his good deed because he thinks it shows weakness. The next spurt of growth needs to develop naturally from that point. He might buy better food for the dog, while complaining about the price and threatening to send him to the pound.
What scenes do you need to add or modify so that the evolution is credible?

Is the growth consistent?

Surprisingly, the answer to this question can often be ‘no’ when you read just Ben’s scenes. You may need him to further the plot by punching a cop which doesn’t jive with where he is in his personal growth. If you allow the plot to dominate, you damage the credibility of Ben’s journey of self-discovery because he’ll be seen to be jumping back and forth erratically.

Although this isn’t easy, identify the scenes where Ben’s actions aren’t consistent with his personal growth and figure out how to change the scenes to credibly accommodate both plot and character development.

You can follow this procedure for any character, but it’s a lot of work so I usually stick to the protagonist and characters whose essence eludes me at the moment.

This process may seem a bit mechanical and honestly, it is. But remember, this is not about creating the character. That is all about imagination and inspiration. This is enhancing what you’ve written to strengthen your intent.

May 29, 2020April 9, 2020

How to Do a Substantive Edit

Okay, so when are we doing a substantive edit?

In the middle of the writing
As I am writing
When the first draft is finished

Gold star if you picked (c). Your reward is to continue reading. For you others, remedial reading of Should I Edit as I Go? and Copy Editing and Substantive.

Okay, so now we get into the guts or DNA of your novel.

Steps to doing a substantive edit

Step 1. Read the novel from start to finish.

Do not make any corrections/changes while reading. I know this is killing but remember you are doing a substantive edit, not copyediting.
Do read it as close to continuously as you can to get the full sweep of the story.

Step 2. Write down what you observed

Some questions which might help:

Does the novel move at the pace I want? Are there any places where it slows down too much? Or where I skipped over something which needs more elaboration?
Does your protagonist change and grow? This is not about him doing a lot of different things; this is about him learning and changing emotionally as a result. In an upcoming post, I’ll go into more detail on this one.
Does the ending feel satisfying? If it doesn’t to you, it probably won’t to your reader. ‘Satisfying’ doesn’t necessarily mean ‘happy.’ Satisfying means that the ending flows in an emotionally logical (is that an oxymoron?) way from the story.
Is the theme represented strongly enough? You may have a theme in mind but the novel needs to show more than a couple of indications of it.

Step 3. Decide what needs to be changed

Make a list. Strengthen Dylan’s motivation for the stabbing; cut down the number of chase scenes; reinforce the theme with scenes which illustrate it; reshape the ending so it links better to the story.
Focus on what the novel needs, not whether or not you know how to make the fix.
Sometimes, just wrestling with a particular scene will help you find a way forward.
It can come down to craft —I don’t know how to show his determination; I want the ending but I don’t know how to make the prior events flow inevitably to it. If so, then go to writing blogs (like mine—ADV), work with a writing teacher, or ask fellow writers. Craft is learnable and teachable.

Don’t get discouraged

Step 3 may well generate a long list. It might feel daunting or as if you didn’t do it right the first time. Nothing can be further from the truth. Editing of all kinds is the lot of good writers. Don’t compare the present state of your manuscript with your favorite author’s completed novel. It’s apples and oranges. Your author’s work has undoubtedly gone through the same process as advocated here. That’s why it reads so well and flows so beautifully. And yours can, too.

May 22, 2020April 10, 2020

Appearing Naked on the Page

Naked on the page. Gives you shivers just thinking about it, doesn’t it? Even if you’re not quite sure what it means. Unfortunately, the explanation is not probably going to make you more comfortable.

What is being naked on the page?

I think my best writing has come when I am completely honest. No prettying up, no generous interpretations, no kind evasion. Being from a dysfunctional family, I write about the pain and cruelty, not about my mother’s cocktail parties.

Feels creepy, doesn’t it? I understand that. But it is, I believe, an important part of the humanity of the writer.

Why do I need to do it?

Stunning plot or appealing characters are important to your writing, but I believe that when readers ache for, identify with, and rejoice with a character, it is often because the writer has written from a place where she has allowed her rawest feelings to guide her writing.

Have you ever watched a stranger on TV cry? Because of the death of a loved one or other terrible experience. They show a vulnerability and openness which draws us in. Do we identify more with their plight? Do we like them more?

Yes and yes.

But it is not the tears themselves, I think, which move us but because we see part of their authentic, hurting self.

You also want to create that connection with a stranger (i.e. your protagonist) in your novel. And the only way I know how is to yourself be vulnerable and open when you write.

How do I do it?

Well, there’s no formula.

The best I can do is a tip which the author, W.O. Mitchell, gave and my first writing teacher, Barbara Turner-Vesselago, passed on to me. Go Fearward. That is, whenever you touch upon something from which you automatically shy away from, instead turn towards it. When your boyfriend said he was seeing somebody else; when you accepted your father was dying; when you betrayed your best friend.

Reach deep down and allow yourself to feel again the searing and write from that sear, not from the scar that has hidden it from view.

The only other thing I can give you is what I thought after following my writing teacher’s suggestion to write about my dysfunctional family.

I climbed the hill, the reluctance as strong as my panting. I wasn’t sure there was enough for a novel mostly because all I had was a feeling of a vast and terrifying darkness. Unrelieved abyss from which, on entry, one might never return. The dread of willingly consigning myself to years back in the hell. A hell from which, I thought, I had escaped.

But so strong was my wish to write, I ventured in. And found, to my growing delight, that it was not entirely a place of shadow and terror. That is was also of light and laughter. That in the wish to escape the night, I had forgotten the day. And also, in a bastardization of Shakespeare, that the remembering fed upon itself and I remembered more and more. So, in the long run, it was a gift. It gave me back who I was. Not all darkness, not all light. But me.

It is an act of bravery but one which I think writers must attempt if they wish to truly move their readers.