Remembering the Good Stuff, Even When It's Hard

I started writing my current book in January. January through mid April I wrote my first draft. After taking the rest of April off to finish my other projects and finals, I also decided to give myself May as a free, non-writing month to recover from grad school and catch up on feeling like a normal person. June and July have been revision months, and now I am into August. And in terms of writing and revising a book, the accumulation of these months don't really represent that long of a time frame. Some books take much longer to write, for a variety of very important reasons. But yet, even though it hasn't been that long, I am getting antsy. I am ready to wrap up my project, take a short break, and move to the next one.

Here's a funny story from this week. At work, my friend and I often talk about our evenings plans. So one day she asked me, "What are you doing tonight?" I said, "Oh, I am going to go hang out with Pearl. We're going to dinner." And my friend looked at me like I had lost my mind, because the name of my main character in my current novel is Pearl. Quickly, I understood her thought process and said, "No! Not that Pearl. A real person Pearl."

I tell this anecdote because the truth is that my fictional Pearl and my project have become such an integrated part of my life over the past few months, that I easily understood why my friend was momentarily confused. I love my current novel. After all this time, I still do — which I think is a great sign. But even with my enthusiasm for fictional Pearl, I can feel myself growing weary. I am ready to produce a polished, finished project and start on something new.

Honestly, I think in some ways this is a good thing. It is encouraging to know that I am looking forward to the next project; that I still have a strong enthusiasm for writing and ideas and creating something new. All of that is a great sign. But much like the rest of life, I think it is important not to rush forward, focusing on the end goal and forgetting to enjoy what is going on in the here and now. I know I am certainly someone guilty of this, in writing and in my day to day.

But as I think about all the work I've done with this novel, I can truly say that I've really enjoyed it. Along the way, I've learned and grown and sharpened my craft, but I've also laughed and felt for my characters and lost myself in the story.  And honestly, if I can get pleasure reading my story as if I wasn't the creator, and if I can know that sometimes, after a mediocre day, I find myself uplifted by my story, and thankful for the work I get to do and the way it makes me feel, then I need to cherish those moments — to remind myself that even though there are days when I am tired or working so hard and just want to reach the end goal, the creation is important to. The process of writing matters, just as the finish product matters.

So as I find myself antsy this weekend, and racing toward the end goal,  I need to remember to enjoy the process. Because of course I want to finish and wrap it up and send it out into the world with hope that someone might believe in it. But I've realized that when it is all said and done, I might just find myself wishing it all hadn't gone so fast.

Beyond the Delete Button — Revisions and Its Many Facets

When I think of revision, I think about cutting back – deleting sentences, shortening word count, streamlining the plot, making the story as tight as possible. But revision isn't only about cutting. It's about consistency, language, conflict, character, and congruency. And many of these qualities involved adding to the story in addition to taking away. 

This is what I've been working on this week: adding to my story. Writing new bits of dialogue, new scenes, new details. And so far, it hasn't been too bad. But that's because I've left the hardest parts for last. See, I have this big, long checklist of revisions I have to make to my novel. It's nine pages long actually. But after about a week of work, I am very happy to say I have successfully crossed off at least half of those bullets. Perhaps more like two-thirds even. But the remaining third holds the harder bullets. The things that my brain hasn't quite come up with a solution for yet. 

One of my problems is that I need to introduce one of my characters earlier — the king. The reader knows about him from the beginning, and gathers lot of information about him along the way through the dialogue of others and general exposition (for if a story has a king, he is inevitably known about on some level). But these methods are more indirect. The reader doesn't get to see the king directly; she's not forming a judgment based on her experience of watching the king, but only through the perspective of others characters. 

So I need to insert the king into earlier scenes. I need to allow the reader to see who he is, so that later, when he plays a pivotal role in the action, my readers have a strong background that will contribute to the reading of his actions. The reader needs a foundation; a preparedness of sorts for the moment when the king becomes important. 

This has not been the easiest of tasks for me, hence why I've left it for the end of this revision cycle. But it's something I must tackle this week, for sure. And here are some of the ways I plan on doing so: 

• Making a timeline. Having a succint visual of all that happens in the story allows me to see a map of the storyline that isn't spread out over almost three hundred pages. Viewing scenes side by side, I then have a better idea of the gaps that exist, the breaks in the action, and the scenes where I can insert key moment to expand my reader's understanding of my character.

• Character maps. I am sure this could be a called a wide array of things, and that this term might actually mean different things to different people. But basically, I am going to track all the scenes where he appears throughout my novel, and what he reveals in those scene, or how each of his appearances function. Then, I came see a collective picture of what I have revealed to the reader, helping me see both the strengths and weakness of his presentation within the narrative. 

• Establishing character goals. What do I want the reader to know about the king? What expectations have I inherently established through the indirect descriptions of him, and how does his presence deliver (or not deliver) on these? Knowing how I want him to appear is half the battle. Then I actually have something to compare the represented character against the intended character. 

In the end, revision isn't just about cutting. I know my strategy for dealing with the king may leave me with more work to do in the end, but coming up with a game plan is half the battle, and it brings me that much closer to the polished work I am hoping to achieve. 

Revision is about looking at the big picture and seeing how each little details fits, making sure that everything within the story adds to the quality rather than subtracts. And revision looks as different from day to day as it does from project to project. So as I cut and add and map out characters, I am going to continue to take it step by step, and try remember that in the end, thinking and mapping and planning and adding all have their place. All of the work matters. 

An Archeological Dig — Revision and Its Many Stages

This week, I read Gobsmacked! by my formed mentor Stephen Roxburgh. A wonderful piece about Roald Dahl and their time working together, Stephen illuminates how they worked through the revision process, and the various rounds and ongoing discussions had they regarding certain ideas, story structure, characters, and the like.

Not only is it a delightful read, but Gobsmacked! is a good reminder of the ways the revision process evolves over time. As Stephen writes, much "like a archeological dig. You start moving big things, but in the end, you focus on the smallest details." This is something I certainly know is true from my time working with Stephen, and is a truth I was reminded of again as I moved into the second round of my revision process.

Entering the second stage of revision, I was glad both to finish round one, as it is a mark of tangible progress, while also welcoming a change in revision style. In round one, I worked through the manuscript chronologically, identifying larger character and plot concerns, as well as heavily refining my language and deleting unnecessary sentences and/or paragraphs. In round two, however, I am tackling my list of more conceptual problems. Dealing with more minute but wholly significant character inconsistencies, missing pieces, the need for more interactions, and many other problems that require a creative type of problem solving.

At times I feel as if I am looking a piece of wood that needs to be carved to just the right shape in order to fit into the puzzle. I have certain revision points in which I need to actively figure out how best to address the problem that exists — to change things, or manipulate, to reimagine a character and come up with a unique but consistent resolution that fits into the larger whole of the story.

This revision cycle also requires that I work out of order, extracting disparate pieces from my story and looking at them side by side, even though they might be hundreds of pages apart. Jumping around from section to section, I need to make sure that if I change a detail on page 16, that what happens on page 108 and 208 also change accordingly.

This is a round where all the pieces matter together, individually and in relationship to each other; where I have to think more strategically, in terms of the greater whole — because truly in the end, it is the details that matter and the details that could pull a story apart.

So as I continue through this revision cycle and into the next, I welcome the changes that occur and the variant styles I must employ in order to make it all work. And of course, it is always helpful to hear the words of an expert, and remember that even the most brilliant literary minds go through a process of trying, and reworking, and digging through the dirt.

Slow and Steady — You Will Finish the Race

Oh, revision. That's what I've been doing lately. And to be honest, part of me misses the days of writing and creating, though of course, within revision both exist. Still, I miss the feeling of cranking out the pages and getting the story down on paper for the first time. There's something thrilling about that. Whereas writing is driving down a road never traveled, revision is going back and making the path smooth. There is beauty in that, to be sure, but it isn't always as thrilling. Some days I love it more than others, and I know some writers just rejoice in the land of revision, but right now, I kind of wish I could go back to that exciting, fast paced, write-it-all-down-before-it slips-out-of-your-mind kind of feeling.

In this first round of major revision, the pace isn't fast. It's not a whirlwind. It's slow and steady. I am not the hare in the proverbial race with the tortoise. I'm the tortoise. Moving along, getting it done, but certainly not impressing anyone (namely myself) with the speed, and not really doing anything flashy. Yet, there is a lot to be learned from this venerable animal:

The tortoise never gives up. He works at his own pace, allowing for the best work to be done instead of only completing a haphazard job. He is self assured. He doesn't allow a comparison to another animal's style to mess with his own, proven way of working. He is dependable. He will not burn out. He is self aware. And he will finish the race — with pride and integrity and just the way he was meant to.

We all have times of being the tortoise. Currently, this is my season. And at first, I felt slightly downtrodden with my lack of speed and flash and the basic need to just keep moving along without the excitement of the first draft. But actually, it's okay. It's more than okay. Working steadily, at your own pace and in your own style leads to the best work getting done. It leads to something you can be proud of. A piece of art that is well produced.

Revision is not easy. It requires commitment, and it requires that we go through each sentence with a fine-toothed comb. But rushing isn't going to help anyone, and it certainly won't benefit the quality of your work. And ultimately, revision is about producing quality work. So if you're revising, or just feeling stuck in the mire of writing, or struggling to get started, just remember the story of the tortoise.
Remember he is admirable and smart, dependable and able. And then work at your own pace, knowing you will finish. Because you will finish, and with commitment and dedication, you will produce good work.

Creating Discipline All Year Round!

The first day I started revising, after I pushed through my nerves and sat at my computer and crossed the start line, I think I felt something like this: "Wow, this feels so good! I'm so glad to be back in my story. I missed my characters. I really love this. What a surprise! Maybe revision won't be as bad as I thought!" 

Several days later, my thoughts settled somewhere in the land of, "Hmm, this is actually not so fun. It's kind of hard. I don't really know what I'm doing. I have my lists, sure, and I've done this before, but do I really know how to do this?" 

A few more days later, after several days of work and evening activities, and a fun weekend, this is what I am now thinking: "I need discipline!" 

The funny thing about life is that time just speeds by. In high school and college, I remember so many adults talking about life after school — how time just flies by and weeks become months and soon enough you look back and several years have passed. I always felt kind of disconnected from that idea, and slightly tired of feeling as though all these people were trying to preach to us 'youth' about how we should enjoy the time while we have it. But now, at the still-young-but-wiser age of twenty-four, I understand this sentiment better. When you go to work every day, each week, months can suddenly disappear. It's June, already? we all say. And when there is no forced structure of semesters and class deadlines and summers off, one season flows into another and into the next. 

Time passes quickly. So if your not careful with your work, you, and I, can lose a whole lot of time that leads to a whole lot of work not getting done. 

I know I've only lost a week, really. But this morning, I was shocked to realize just how much revising I did not do this week. Yikes! I don't want every week to be like that. In fact, I can't afford for every week to be as lax. I have to stick to some sort of schedule. And while it can be more relaxed and fluid than the one I had while in school, I can't let it go entirely. Not if I want to have specific writing goals. Not if I want to continue and produce a lot of work each year. 

Summer is a hard season. We all want to be outside, cookouts abound, and naps and ice cream just seem so enticing. Summer is specifically a hard season for writing because swinging in the park and meeting with friends and general relaxing are so much more fun than revising. But discipline is an all year requirement. Whether you are big into writing or exercising, perfecting a craft or learning a new skill, stick to it-ness is something we all need. 

So this week, I've decided I'm going to write out my revising schedule in advance. I've set specific goals, already made some social plans so I know just which days I'll be busy and what time of the day I should set aside for writing, and mapped out some revision goals for the next few weeks. To some, this may sound silly, or even too rigid. But I need to be committed to my work. I need to get revision done so I can send my work out to agents, and so I can start on my next project. 

Rest is important. I know that. Especially after two intense years of work and schooling. But discipline is really the only way to make sure we all achieve our goals. So while I hope to enjoy the summer, I also hope to get work done, too. Wishing you luck! I'll report back later, hopefully to say I've made lots and lots of progress!  

Revision Nerves and the Need to Dive Right In

You know the nerves you feel when starting something new? Or just before a test, when you're supposed to prove just how much you already know — just how good you are? That's kind of how I feel right now. Just before I'm going to start revising. Thinking about how I want to make my book great and worrying that for some reason it won't live up to the potential that it could be.

Maybe you're not supposed to talk about the fact that you're nervous, or that for some reason there's this feeling of pressure around this revision process. But I can't be the only one, right? All writers have moments of anxiety and uncertainty. All writers just want their efforts to pay off and their books to be worthy of satisfaction on our parts as well as on the part of a reader. But still, I don't like this feeling. But it is what I'm feeling. So therefore I write about it.

I've taken a few weeks off to 'relax' and give myself some distance from my novel. I was going to start revising a week or two ago, but when the moment came, I just knew it wasn't time. So I pushed back the deadline and rested some more. But now as my new deadline approaches, I'm not hit with the feeling of not being ready. I think it's time. I think for my own sake I need to get back into some work. But as I start thinking about revising, I can't lie, I have butterflies in my stomach and feeling of slight dread hanging over my head. I don't think this dread is at all do to the novel, because I loved it when I finished and I still do. I think the dread has much more to do with expectations. My expectations.

I want to make this novel great. Really polished and tight and captivating, you know? And on some level I think I have part of the latter one down. But I know there's a lot of work ahead of me. And with so much hope for what this book could be, and so much love for my characters and my plot, I really, really, really want my revising to pay off.

But revising is hard. Revising is daunting. Perhaps when I dive into the work and I am so entrenched in it that I'm no longer thinking about revising but actually revising I will feel better. I will be too busy working to be worrying as much. And I will be so involved with the story that my intuition will know just what to do and just how to do it.

I am tremendously thankful that I've been able to work with my mentor this semester and for all her guidance along the way. And I am also tremendously thankful that the previous semester I have the experience of working with a fantastic editor who truly taught me what it means to revise — the rigorous, take no prisoners, cutting kind of revision that is necessary to really make a book shine. So maybe I just have to put my worries aside and jump right into the work, attacking the revision like I had so many months ago.

I think I just need to trust that I will do my best and my best will be enough. But of course that is never easy, especially when it comes to writing and the hope of publication. Regardless, I think that's the only course of action:

Work hard. Trust your abilities. Seek guidance from those you trust. And then work harder. 

So wish me luck. I'm not starting today, but the time is coming soon. Any positive thoughts you'd like to send my way, I'd be happy to take! I'll be hoping your revisions go well, too, and praying that none of us let our insecurities or fears stop us.

The life of a writer is plagued with many emotions. But it's the life we choose and I know, it's what we love. So here's to taking the journey, separately, but also together!

Perfection Comes from Patience — Not in the First Draft

This week, I worked on one scene for quite some time — much longer than I can remember working on another singular scene in a quite a while. Although there were plenty of moments of sitting and thinking, or jumping ahead to get down the other ideas that popped into my mind for later scene, I kept coming back to this one scene: working and reworking it; contemplating what I wanted to say and the appropriate responses of the characters; balancing the need to give information while also trying to make sure it remained interesting and moving forward. It was quite a doozy. But when I started to think about why it was so hard, it became really clear to me. It wasn't just hard because I was having a writing-block moment. It was because it really mattered. And the scenes that really matter the most are often the hardest to write.

See, the part I was most stuck on is a portion of a scene in which my two characters discover some super important information that they've been looking for for quite some time now. So not only is it a typical scene where pacing must be right and interesting things have to happen, but it's also a time where their characterization is key, and their reactions must be believable, and the important information must be perfectly stated in just the right way to help all the pieces tie together. Oh yeah, and, they read it from a book. So of course, I have to write the text of that book with a distinct voice of its own. Lots of layers, right?

Most of the problem wasn't finding the words themselves, but actually figuring out what I needed to say in the right way. Within my novel, I've conceived this scene as one that plays a pivotal role in getting my protagonist closer to the mystery she is trying to solve. So I want the details to be perfect. And I want to make sure this isn't just another scene that gives some information, but that it is a scene that marks a shift between the first part of her journey and the second. With this new knowledge, she will be able to go out, to set forth into the quest she is destined for and become empowered to seek her goal. But the more I thought about how important I wanted this scene to be, and how each detail had to be right, the harder it became.

I brain-stormed. I talked to a friend about it. I wrote and deleted, moved things around, thought some more, brains-stormed some more, and continued writing. And I am happy to say that I got it to a place I am comfortable with. But it certainly was a struggle.

Sometimes, we put added pressure on scenes to make them right the first time, which is of course exactly what I described about. But while I think this is very important, especially within the most pivotal one or two scenes within your book, I also think it's important to remember that you, and I, still have time to work out all the kinks in revision. I mean, perhaps my later scenes will better help me understand my current scene. In fact, I am quite sure that it will — for when I can see the work as a complete whole, I will have a better view of all the pieces and how they fit together. And maybe later I'll change my mind about how I want my protagonist to react. Or the perfect bit of dialogue will pop in my head while I'm riding the T or working on a project at work.

But I have to realize that just because it's hard, and just because it comes at this exact point in my story doesn't mean I have to have it all together now. There are many drafts to come. So perhaps I can just ease up a bit, knowing that I've got something down that already had a lot of thought behind it.

I may have a detailed outline now, but remembering that my novel, as a first draft, is fluid and has the time and space to change is important both to the success of the novel, and to my sanity. So while I fully believe in working hard and writing intentionally in the first draft, I need to remember that perfect doesn't have to happen today; and that all great novels and finished products were not so great at the get-go. They come with time. They come with patience.

So as I move onto the next scene, let's all take a deep breath, and trust that we did our best, and still have a whole lot of great work in front of us. We can do it. I am sure we can. Happy Writing!

The Home Stretch — Wrapping Up Your Revision, and Finishing Strong

December 1st is the deadline for my last revision, and this time around, I am feeling a new sense of pressure. This pressures comes solely from myself, of course, but still. It's there. And it's there because as the end of the revision approaches, I've realized just how badly I want to make my novel great, and how the time to do that is now.

Working with my mentor over the last few months has been more than I could have ever hoped for. Truly, I have learned so much and my novel and my knowledge base as a writer has grown tremendously. But now as things are wrapping up, I feel that creeping sense of uncertainty that makes me question if I've done enough, and what more I could be doing.

Revision is not a finite process, and every manuscript and writer will require different styles and timelines for revision. For me, particularly as I was and still am on a very specific revision schedule, the period of three and a half months I have dedicated to revision is now coming to a close. And while I can revise beyond this timeframe, independently or perhaps with another editor or writing buddy, I do see this cycle as one of the final steps in my revision process — at least for now. So, with the idea that in another two weeks my manuscript will have reached a fairly "finished" state, I know my mind is just whirring with questions and lists of things to accomplish and the worry that I just want to do everything to make my manuscript as good as it can be!

Being so close to a manuscript and working with it for so long, I know it can become hard to picture what a new reader will think of the novel as opposed to basing my opinion on the many months I've spent with it. Questions like, will he like it? Will she think its a page-turner? Will he believe all the characters to be authentic and engaging? I know everything about the manuscript, from my protagonist's middle name to exactly how the doctors visit went, and just what the setup of his house looks like. So as I try to evaluate if it is "good", it can be hard to tell just how right, or — gulp — wrong, I could be. All of these questions and feelings have arisen over the past couple days as I have slowly worked through my list of things to revise, and edged closer to my final deadline.

After I turn in this revision, my editor will read the manuscript one last time, and then...Then I am on my own. I know that I will begin sending the novel to agents as I start the first pages of my spring novel, but the realization that I will be doing this all on my own has really hit me this week. Stephen won't be there for me to ask my questions to; and he won't be there to give me a specific task for the next week or impart some much needed wisdom. And it is this knowledge, that soon I will be on my own without anyone to lead me along, has inspired a new wave of diligency. A new sense that now is the time to work and work hard. Now is the time to do all that I can. In all of my other revisions, it's not that I haven't worked hard, but now, it's as though I've moved from dress rehearsal to opening night. It matters what I do this time, because this is where people will start to see it. The time to make things right is now.

It's almost like after this cycle, there is no second chance — and while really, this is my fifth, it holds the same feeling. When you come to the end of revision you want to feel as though your work is as shiny and attractive and creative as possible. You want to feel that no matter who reads it, they will come away feeling impressed, happy to have spent their time within the pages of your story. So I must work hard. Even though I am tired and ready for the semester to end, and even though there are days I feel like I might want to take a break from the world I've created, now, today, is the time to stay focused. And tomorrow, and the next day, and the next day, all the way until December 1st.

Then, I will take a deep breath, press the send button, and, if I work hard for the remaining two weeks, be able to trust that my work is the best that it can be, and that the manuscript is truly ready to go out into the world. Here's to praying that it happens! And to being proud of my work at the end.

Keep the Reader Reading — Disclosing Information at the Right Time

Providing the right information at just the right time is an essential part of crafting a good story. You want to make sure not to give away to much, to create tension and suspense, and provide a payoff for your reader among many other things. But in order to do all of these things well, one element to keep in mind is the idea of when, how, and how often you provide information that your reader needs to know.

For my current revision process, this is something that has been on my mind. I moved a scene up to make sure the reader has enough information to keep him interested. I studied my order of scenes to make sure each scene laid the foundations for the ones to come. But because my first revision mandated that I delete so many of my initial pages that essentially served as backstory rather than action, in earlier revisions, I really tried to analyze where information was introduced to make sure that the reader knew just enough of what she needed to know, when she needed to know it, so that she would remain engaged and wanting to move forward with the story.

As the story then progresses, however, it is equally important to make sure that while you provide the necessary information for your story, you also are not repeating the same information again and again. Of course, you want to make sure to give your reader all the necessary clues and reminders so that the story remains understandable and fluid, but repeating information can also become redundant. Even though certain characters might not know what your reader might already know, it is important to be aware that to simply restate the information for the sake of an unknowing character can negatively affect the reader's experience of your novel — because they already know.

This was something that my mentor brought to my attention for my current revision. Because my protagonist is keeping a secret from many people, as he begins to reveal the truth, I need to be continually conscious of both the way in which he does it —meaning word choice and the analogies he uses — as well as how much information is revealed, and potentially repeated, each time. The more I thought about this, the more I realized he was right. Of course while I was writing I thought it was important to make sure my protagonist explained things to the important people in his life. But with the reader standing in a place of dramatic irony, these conversations or revelations need to be abridged, or perhaps portrayed through indirect dialogue rather than a repetition of what has already been said.

Essentially, what I am saying is this: You don't want to sacrifice your reader for the good of a character. The reader is the one who must stay engaged. She is the one you want to make turn the page, and she is the one who you don't want to bore with your over description or constant reminders of what she already knows.

Much like my last post about keeping a reader emotionally engaged, you also want to respect the reader's intelligence and ability to make connections and remember what has already occurred. Sometimes, as the writer, it is hard to see it from the reader's perspective or as someone reading it with fresh eyes. We already know the whole story. But in this part of the revision stage, it is important to really look at your manuscript as if you'd never seen it before. However hard that may be, it is important to constructing the reading experience you want your audience to have.

But being aware of what's already been said will only serve to make your novel stronger. You want your manuscript to be as interesting as possible. And information that someone already knows doesn't have have the same appeal as the new information that can be found on the next page. One of the most important things for us authors is to keep your reader reading. And if taking out a repeated section of dialogue, or extracting information that's already been established will do that, then by all means, take it out!

Disclosing information in the right places can be like a balancing act — making sure there is just enough over here to balance a lack of something over there. But it will all be worth it in the end. When you're reader keeps turning the page, and there is no boredom to be found, then the tinkering and the revising will all be worth it. So ask someone to read your work. Or pretend you're a first time reader and see what you find. I can guarantee your novel will be better for it!

Tracing the Emotions — Keeping Your Reader Emotionally Involved

As of this past week, I have completed my third round of revision on my manuscript and am about to begin my fourth. It's amazing to see just how much the novel has come along. It's definitely been a lot of hard work, especially with each revision is on such a tight schedule. But, while I am slightly exhausted to be sure, it's nice to be able to see the fruits of the work paying off!

This week, in my letter from my editor, one element that he highlighted for the next revision is to make sure to track the reader's emotional involvement with certain characters. In essence, I need to take a careful look at the emotional progression of certain characters, but also begin to consider the way in which readers will respond to those characters.

For instance, one of my characters, Tate, is the best friend of my protagonist. For the majority of the novel, however, Tate is angry at Carter for something he's done, and struggles to believe Carter's professed reason for why he did it. Now, I know this doesn't give you lots of insight into the greater situation or the dynamic between the characters, but it provides a good example this type of revision. Throughout the novel, Tate's anger manifests itself in a variety of ways. So as the novel progresses, and his anger changes, I need to make sure that his emotions are consistent and relative to the situations playing out around him.

Going through the scenes in which he appears, cataloging a list of his actions, and listing his emotional responses are all part of creating the emotional map for any character. Of course, I know people do this in a variety of different ways, including color coding, using index cards, or creating extensive outlines. But really whatever works for you is great, as long as you are making sure to carefully go through all of the places in which your character appears since even the smallest of actions can convey a world of emotion. You want to gather as full a picture as you can of the emotional life of your character.

But tracking a character emotionally is not only about following their emotions, but also being aware of how the reader responds to their emotional progression. One of the things my mentor said about Tate was that in a few instances, he has begun to come across as mean. And if he comes across as mean, then the reader loses sympathy for him, which in turn, lessens their sympathy toward my protagonist. Evaluating reader response to your character's emotional lives is just as important as the character's emotions themselves. Of course, it is not always about making your character likable, but instead, about remembering their emotions go beyond just the characters themselves.

Sometimes we become so caught up in moving the plot along and ensuring the value of each scene, and even each sentence, it can become easy to forget your reader's response. For my character, I didn't necessarily have a problem with Tate acting mean, but I do want to make sure to protect the reader's connection with him, and thus don't want his meanness to break the bond that has hopefully formed.

Because this type of revision shifts some of the focus away from the story itself as it exists on the page and onto the response of the reader, it is definitely a revision that should come later in your process. In the case of flat characters, who never really change or only make a cameo in one scene, there role doesn't merit this type of scrutiny. But all the other characters who play a main role in the action or even in the development of your protagonist can be evaluated in this way.

Secondary characters' emotions can often be just as important as the emotions of your protagonist. Like the real world, all of our characters exist in an interpersonal web of relationships. And, this web includes your readers' relationship with the characters. One of the best parts of the reading experience is that you get to lose yourself in a whole new world of friends and action and fantasy. So you want to make sure to keep your reader connected. Their emotions matter, too!

Don't Rush, but Hurry Up — The Importance of Pacing

Yesterday, my friend recounted a story to me in which someone said to her, "Now don't rush, but hurry up!" The more I thought about it, the more I realized just how perfect this statement is. This is exactly what you want to do with you a novel. You want to hurry yourself to the action; to the real meat of the story. But you don't want to rush getting there, or leave out any of the crucial parts.

Pacing is a complex problem that will come with every novel. Of course, we all go into a novel with a certain plan, knowing roughly how much time we are looking to cover, and how we want the narrative voice to read. But the difficulty of figuring out the level of detail that you want to describe, how to do so in an interesting manner, and then keeping this consistent throughout can sometimes prove challenging — particularly when you want your pacing to keep the reader engaged, and always wondering what will happen next.

This is something I've been thinking a lot about over the past two weeks while working on my third round of revision for my manuscript. My mentor instructed me to go back through every scene, and really evaluate how I could tighten things up, or if I really needed a scene at all. This type of evaluation was really aimed at the questions, "Do your readers really need to know this?" and "How does the exposition/dialogue/event further the story?"

As I went through my manuscript line by line, I realized there were three main areas were I could enhance and contribute to the pace of my story. First, I looked for material that I could cut. These sections were in some way unnecessary. This could be a description of a place or person that just doesn't need to be in the story, or a conversation that doesn't further reveal or build character, or maybe just a statement of the obvious that the reader can glean for herself. Perhaps it' two lines, or two paragraphs, or two pages, but cutting unnecessary material can increase the pacing significantly.

Next, I really looked at dialogue. Dialogue is something that can help the reader get a lot of information in short spurts, and deepens character. But because you want the dialogue to have a quick movement, longer monologues and lengthy conversations are often something to avoid. This was particularly important for me because of the age of my character. Thirteen year old boys are not often very verbose, so I tried to pare down my character's words particularly when it came to any type of repetition.

The third area I looked at was exposition. In my first draft I had tons of exposition to start the story. Now, most of it is gone, and the action of my story starts right when you read the very first page. This meant that I had to figure out ways for information to come through a variety of sources as the novel continued, but not in such away that it slowed down the action. Good exposition can be one or two lines, so I tried to focus on key pieces of information, rather than general descriptions.

While this is something to be aware of in the first draft, I think pacing is an element that needs to be looked at in revision, when you've gotten everything you wanted down on the page and can then see the whole scope of what you're working with. And just as pacing for each of your projects will be different, so, too, will your revisions. But the key thing is that for each of your manuscripts, you only want to include what's necessary. You want to plunge your reader into the action and keep them steadily wanting more and not feel as though they are plodding through or digging for some buried treasure. You want to remove the debris from the path and provide a clear line toward the destination, all while not take too long to get there.

So like following any treasure map, creating the right pacing may not be easy, but it certainly can be done.

Keeping Your Character's Secrets —What to Say, and What Not to Say

Just like real, everyday people, each and every character has an internal world and an external world. One of the great qualities of the novel is that the wall between the internal and external can be broken down, and we, the readers, get to peek inside the internal world of a character in the way that we can never do in real life: we actually get to see inside their heads. We feel like we are getting to know all their thoughts, but really, we are only seeing all the thoughts that the author allows us to see.

This is where my blog post picks up this week: thinking about the question what thoughts of my protagonist should I allow the reader to have access to, and what thoughts should be kept secret? The weight of this question is also augmented by the fact that at the start of my novel, my protagonist is also keeping a secret from those around him. And not only is he keeping a secret, but he is also trying to resist the truth himself.

As I've continued my revision this week, I've run into many sections within the manuscript where I've thought, "He doesn't need to say this," and deleted a sentence or two. Mostly because these thoughts have been 1) obvious and something the reader can glean from the exposition and/or his actions, or 2) too mature/analytical for the narrative moment that he finds himself in. I think I should pause for a moment here and say that my story is also being told in the first person voice. This POV greatly informs my questions of what to reveal and what to keep secret because it is ultimately my character who is talking about himself. There is no omniscient or close third narrator who has some level of detachment or even investment in getting or protecting the whole truth of the story. This is Carter's story, being told by Carter. And much like you and I are very selective in the truths we tell, or perhaps more accurately, how we frame those truths, it becomes a significant concern for me as the author to achieve an authenticity in the voice and revelations of my character.

It's not so much that he wouldn't or doesn't think a specific thought, but it becomes a question of what should be said and when a thought should be said. A thought he might reveal at the end of my book, when he is more self-aware and coming to accept more of his limitations might feel very out of place at the beginning of the novel. Similarly, while he reveals his feelings to one of his friends, I need to make sure that the spoken words are an appropriate reflection of a thirteen-to-fourteen year old boy's emotional depth, instead of perhaps something deeply profound that I would love to have my character say.

Finding the appropriate balance between expressed and unstated thoughts begins with an awareness of just who your character is, and also, how your character's secrets affect the overall arch of the story. I know that my novel would be vastly different if Carter were willing to proclaim his secret to the world on page one. Secrets are often very important to the plot and the motivations of your character, and they can be a great way to keep your reader turning the page. But in keeping secrets from your reader, however big or small, you want to make sure to give them enough of an emotional connection with your character so that they care about him, and want him to achieve whatever he is after.

When working around secrets and your character's hidden thoughts, you also want to make sure to keep your character believable. So while you must always remember that your characters have secrets and needs and fears and desires, you always want to remind yourself that they're not always going to be talking about them. Walking the line between providing some sense of that protective self-awareness as well as a willingness to be open thus becomes even more important, particularly when working with a first person narration.

We all have certain things that we want to hide, or a desire to say other things that might not reflect the whole, complete truth. This is an important aspect of developing compelling characters. But as the author, it is your job to figure out exactly what needs to be said and what should be kept behind the curtain. And like most other things in the revision process, there is no formula for exactly how to do this. But one good tip to remember: just like the rest of us real-life characters, your characters aren't as self-aware as you'd like them to be.

Save or Delete? Revising and Rewriting

This week started my first intensive week of revision for my manuscript, and while I had definitely anticipated this time for quite a while, I didn't fully know what to expect. Just as each project is different, so, too, is the revision process. Sometimes you start in the beginning and work your way through, while other times you might work backwards or pick a certain element to revise throughout your work. For this initial revision, I am focusing on the first third of the novel: tightening, cutting, and just getting to the main action of the novel sooner. I've also been adding a few scenes, too.  

One of the best pieces of advice my mentor gave me was that my reader is more interested in seeing the interactions between the kids as opposed to the interactions between my protagonist and the adults around him. From this, I’ve been able to reconceptualize just what are the most interesting scenes in the first third of the novel, and what might come off as a little less interesting. 

But in all of this, I've found myself asking the question, "Should I cut this? Or should I keep it?" I've definitely cut a lot of material — entire scenes even. Despite the initial feeling that I had worked so hard on these scenes and conceptualized the story so specifically, I really find the deletion process pretty easy. I'm ruthless, you might say. So far I've cut out about forty-five pages out of entire manuscript. But when it comes to material that isn't part of a strictly prolonged child-to-adult scene, or backstory that we don't actually have to see playing out, the line between what should be saved and what should be thrown out becomes a bit more blurry. What happens to those really great sentences that just don’t seem to fit in anymore? And the piece of dialogue that is so great but needs to be changed based on the changes to the scene above? 

Most of the time the answer is that I have to let them go. Maybe try to store them in the back of my brain for another time. But sometimes, I’ve found ways to repurpose ideas, moving a snippet of dialogue down into the next scene, or simply reorganizing paragraphs to make things work. Knowing when and what to delete or keep is really a case by case call that only you, the author, can make. There is no rule or equation that gives us all the right answers or even a guarantee that this new way of writing a scene was better than the old. 

In determining exactly what material to delete, I think an important step in the process is first deciding how you want the story to read, and exactly what element of revision you are going to work on first. For example, in my revisions, I am really trying to streamline the action and plunge the reader right into the heart of the conflict. So I’ve taken out a lot of exposition that led up to this conflict. If I hadn’t know exactly what my goal for the revision was, it would have been a lot harder to make the necessary judgment call.  Going in with a clear idea of what you are trying to accomplish can help tremendously.

Luckily this also isn’t the only revision pass I’ll do. So I don’t have to feel that this is my only chance.  If I don’t make it perfect this time, there are still plenty of opportunities to work on it. Trying to tackle every revision element at once becomes way too overwhelming anyway. But I also make sure to keep a copy of the previous draft, so that in the event that I cut something that I might want to bring back later, I have it saved, and ready to go. 

So for this revision period, I just need to keep my goals in mind and keep crossing things off my list. With one week left before I turn my manuscript back over to my editor, I feel like I'm in an okay place, though there is still a lot left to be done. Hopefully I can achieve all the things on my list this time, and make a whole different one the next! 

I'm off to go work now. Happy writing! 

The Anxiety of Waiting — Receiving My First Editorial Letter

Hello, blog! After a nice vacation, I am back and ready to work on my manuscript again. It was awesome to have some time to rest and give my mind a little break from my writing. But it is also nice to be back and writing for you all, again :)

My vacation to Costa Rica to visit my wonderful friend was lots of fun and provided some good rest from the intense amount of writing I had been doing over the summer. But, my vacation was also restful because it coincided with my first manuscript turnover to my editor/mentor for the semester. Right before I left, I officially handed in my manuscript, meaning that even if I had stayed at home, I would have had a week without my manuscript while my mentor did his first critique. So what that really means is that if I hadn't been away, I would have been waiting anxiously to receive my first set of feedback as the days passed by.

Well, even though I was out of the country and greatly enjoying my trip, I have to admit that I was still anxious about my fast-approaching editorial letter. Actually, I don't think I realized just how anxious I had been until after I received the letter on Friday. But at least the trip provided a good distraction and the reminder that things were out of my hands. All I had to do was wait for Stephen to send me his comments. So I waited. Trying not to anticipate what he would say, but rather just keep my mind open to receive whatever feedback might be coming, and to trust that my work was still as strong as I had felt it was when I turned it over.

So, I am happy to report that after receiving my very first editorial letter, there is much work to do, but also much encouragement to be found. Phrases like "impressed" and "very much like" and "firm grasp of the fundamental skills" were used — all of which made me smile, but more importantly made me excited about the revision and the upcoming hard work. I think one of the things I was most anxious about what that my mentor would either 1) not like the story and therefore want me to completely redo things, or 2) feel that my skills and my manuscript were not strong, and just lacking overall. Neither seemed to be true, and while there are very specific issues with the manuscript, and lots of revision to be done, I was quite pleased to find the encouragement within the letter that helped me to set aside my anxieties.

As a writer, there will also be an inherent anxiety that comes with sharing your work with another. Particularly those in the field, like an editor or agent; and especially those who have the power to push your novel toward publication. There is really not much to do about this anxiety other than work hard and trust your product. Of course, we all have this anxiety to varying degrees and at different times, but for me, I think it comes first in the initial blind read, when someone knows nothing about the manuscript or section, and it deciding if they like it for the very first time.

In the past, I had always workshopped portions of a piece rather than presented a complete manuscript for critique. So the idea that he might not like the whole thing, or that a revision would be so large, seemed overwhelming to me.  But now, while the revisions I am tackling in the next two weeks are certainly not small, I don't feel quite so frightened. I feel ready to make my novel better; ready for the hard work that will hopefully bring my manuscript to a place ready and worthy of publication.
 
One thing that really stuck out to me in my editorial letter was this sentence: "We have a limited amount of time and good work to do. So let's start." The fact that it said "good work," and not just "work" reminded me of just what I wanted to achieve. I want to achieve "good work" and ultimately a good manuscript. I want to work hard to make my craft better and my novel one that people would want. But to get there, to make anything good, I have to do the work. We all have to do the work. And part of the work involved critique. Honest critique.

I'm not saying that I won't once again be anxious when it comes to a future turnover, or when I send it to agents. And I don't think that anxiety is entirely bad, either. It means that I want this — this whole writerly thing we're doing. But at least for right now, I feel good about the good work I have to do, and commitment I have to make to get there. This fall semester is looking extremely hard, but in the end, one day, I know all this work will be worth it.

Deciding on Chapter Lengths

Working on my new novel, and revising my other, I've encountered the sometimes difficult choices of deciding on chapter lengths. At times, chapters seem to organically organize themselves, providing you, the writer, with a natural starting and stopping point based on the arc of that portion of the story. But, problems can arise when you seem to have a hard time knowing when one chapter should end and another should begin, or how much a chapter should cover, or what to do when chapter lengths vary so greatly that each chapter is vastly different than the last.

I think I should first mention that this is something that becomes more of a primary concern when revising a work. You don't want to become so focused on this during the writing process that it bogs you down or prevents you from following the flow of the novel. It definitely comes into play when writing, but more consciously takes part during revisions — at least in my opinion. In fact, you can spend an entire revision session dedicated just to chapter lengths, endings and beginnings (this session is still upcoming for me!).

But why such a focus on lengths, you ask? A significant portion of the answer is consistency. While at times you might make a conscious, artistic choice to vary chapter lengths for a given reason, I would say on the whole, chapters tend to be around the same page length within a given book. Like every other part of the novel's structure, this adds to the form, and the form adds to the reading experience.
Finding consistency within the length of your chapters enables the reader to create a kind of expectation. They expect a chapter to cover a certain amount of ground — however unexpected the plot might be.

Like the larger work, chapters also have a beginning, middle and end. Each chapter has an individual story arc that builds upon and adds to the tension, plot, and characterization of the novel. Deciding on chapter lengths thus should center around this structure. Chapters shouldn't go on and on without getting to a point; nor should they be so short that there is not enough time for something significant to happen. All chapters are not strictly episodic in nature: some serve to develop characterization; others fill in backstory. But seeing chapters through an episodic lens can help to reveal the purpose of that chapter and draw out the points you want to make sure to make.

Even if the chapters aren't all the same length, the length of the individual chapter is still important to consider. Each chapter should be the length it is for a reason. No one might ever know the reason but you, and your reader might not even pick up on it, but it is important for you, the author, to be aware that each chapter serves a specific purpose and contains the necessary parts.

There is no rule about how long chapters should be. This decision depends partly on the age of your target audience (this is a primary concern for me), partly on the artistic vision for your work, and partly on what seems natural within the space of your project. One thing you also want to remember is that chapter breaks also provide the reader a break, or a place to pause. You don't want to have your reader constantly wondering when a chapter is going to end, even if only for the sake of wanting a comfortable stopping point when the rest of your life is calling you away from the book.

The length of your chapters might not be something that wins you critical acclaim (as many readers might not give it a second thought —unless the chapter lengths are somehow not working) but it is important to consider within the greater process of constructing your novel. Hopefully, you will just know what works naturally for your project. But if you don't, don't be discouraged! It will all be figured out with a little revision.