Lethargy. A certain ambivalence that creeps in and underlies the whole day. Feelings of restlessness and yet, somehow, inertia. Excitement mingled with out-and-out a.v.o.i.d.a.n.c.e. with a capital A.
That’s how I’ve been feeling lately about revising my latest project. And lo, I thought, I shall write about how I am avoiding writing for my substack. Makes sense.
With rare, glittering and glorious exceptions, it’s a truism that stories don’t spring forth like Athena from the head of Zeus. Stories have their own rhythm. Perhaps bits and pieces come forth, disconnected trusses that could possibly, if you squint hard enough, make a bridge. Or maybe you are one of those people who outline things (I understand they exist!), like an author I met recently who writes 55-page treatments for his novels before they become actual full-length novels, in which case, I would like to say something intelligent about that but my main reaction is AHHHHH!1
The fact is, I can really only speak to my particular experience of writing, and if it’s useful, please take what you can from it.
So here I am, with a completed (typed! dictated! transcribed!) proto-draft of a book, and the simmering awareness that I need to revise it. I want to start, and yet I don’t want to start. I am every both/and about this project. In practice, I am opening my drafting document, staring at it for a few minutes, then walking away.
And you know what? It’s okay.
It’s okay, because I’ve been at this spot in novels often enough that I know I’ll find a way through it. I can feel my subconscious working, even if my conscious brain is a hot mess of what-ifs and self-doubts and oh, a scoop of ice cream sounds good right about now….
But I have also not known how to revise. I have doubted my abilities. I have been the person who’s been told, “You know what you need to learn? How to revise!” and then been left scratching my head because I have not been taught how to, you know, revise.
So, this is what I know about revision.
It’s okay to let a project sit, simmer, stew. You can launch into an immediate revision. It’s possible to reread a project, or get to the end of drafting it, and know intuitively what changes you want to make. It is possible to commence with barely a day’s breathing room.
It is also possible to take some damn time away from it. For example: I recently finished a draft of a book that I do not know how to revise. I just don’t have the vision for it…yet. So I set it aside.
If you are going to take a break, one of the most useful things you can do is read other books. If you are like me, it’s hard to read and draft at the same time; other stories don’t feel as satisfying because you are trying to express the one in your head. But if you are on break, you can refresh. Refill the well. Read comp titles. Get inspired.
Revision for me is a delicate balance between two opposites that are both true: it is okay to tear everything down and it is also okay to leave everything standing. Sometimes the story came out right the first time—you don’t have to tear out your lines for the sake of tearing them out. Likewise, sometimes you discover the heart of the story lies elsewhere—you don’t have to keep things simply because they are there. It’s not good or bad either way; it just is.
It is better to take more time and get the story right than to rush through for the sake of completion.
Getting the story “right” is highly subjective. It’s not about perfectionism but about, as far as I can tell, aligning the Story Being that has come to visit you with the Written Story on paper. The closer their essences come to meet, the more “right” the story is. This is true for every genre and type of story. Sometimes the Story Being is a light, bright delight adorned in feather boas. Sometimes the Story Being is somber, serious, wears a bowler hat and a glum brown jacket and will make you weep. Sometimes you cannot tell and spend half your time asking them to step into the spotlight, please, so you can figure out who they are. All Story Beings are worthy of our attention.
Thinking, dreaming and imagining time also counts as writing time, and it’s just as important to do this now as it was before you started writing the book.
Call on a higher power. And remember you are not alone—not spiritually, and not in going through this sometimes isolating process of writing.
There are people who have actually taught how to do practical, useful, revision techniques and you can learn from them! I cannot express how helpful this post from Susan Dennard has been for me. Holly Lisle also has a guide to revision.
If you know other revision techniques or classes, please comment below! I know I find it really helpful to see how other writers work their process, and I bet it’s helpful for others, too.
One of the hardest things I ever had to do writing-wise was outlines for The Memory of Fire and The Soul of Power BEFORE I had written them.
I've always enjoyed the revision process but then I think it is easier to revise nonfiction (which is what I write) than fiction simply because the options are more limited. I see it (no pun intended, ok maybe a LITTLE pun intended) literally as "re-visioning." Now the real question: did you revise your Substack essay on revision? -- Jeff