Hi Friends!
Welcome back to revision season. When I talked through the idea for these newsletters with my husband he assured me I’d be great at it because I already teach revision and I was like oh god no this is not teaching, this is my own personal madness revealed, for better or worse or sideways or whatever direction it goes. It’s about letting other writers in to see that it sometimes goes sideways and that’s okay. It’s about hoping someone will look at their own project and see it as possible to move through it with more patience than they’d given it before. About perhaps showing ourselves that patience and kindness in the process. It’s not that I don’t endorse the methods I’m using, just that I don’t know yet if I endorse them for other people. Though there is plenty in my own process that I regularly teaching, there’s plenty that might not be applicable to other minds. The only thing I would teach—that the more I teach I think is the core of my teaching—is to trust yourself as you find your way through, even (especially) when you hit a point where feel like you should know more than you know. Often your own way is the best way, even if it isn’t necessarily the *best* way, you know?
On that note, onto the inside of my brain the past two weeks!
What I’ve Done So Far
Finished annotating. While I did this, I found myself writing overarching notes at the start of each section/chapter. Most of these are to-dos: make this decision point more clear, write this part as scene rather than summary, ideas about structure and sequencing. I also noted when things were working so I don’t throw the baby out with the bathwater.1
Filled out those lists for characters, arcs, logistics. These were really helpful.
Made use of my index cards! After annotating, I skimmed my notes and sorted them into four categories of cards, a set for every chapter.
SUMMARY: What happens, to whom? What’s the new information readers have by chapter’s end?
ARCS & PROPULSIVE FORCES: What’s happening between characters, how do situations and relationships evolve, and what are the forces at work that create that change? For example, there’s one character who starts to care less about pleasing another character, and that changes the direction of their relationship. There’s a small child with a jealousy streak. There’s the way winter makes another character needy (and then make some bad choices of course). Figuring out these pressure points and how to use them is essential. I did a card for the arc threads throughout the entire book as well.
LOGIC: What are the logical inconsistencies in the chapter? What are the details that contradict, don’t add up, or otherwise throw the foundation of the book off? I did a card for the logic threads over the whole of the book, too.
TO DO: Things I already know I want to do: moving sections to a different part of the novel, layering in the retrospective voice, dialing a character’s reaction towards a certain emotion. It’s great to have a task list.
Asked the hive mind (aka social media) what kind of family leave they get as academics. The answer: if you’re not unionized, not a whole lot.
Made more lists of various kinds, none of which had legs. My notebooks are full of half-finished lists.
Talked to the brilliant Nick White about some character details. Nick and I check in about our books regularly, and every time we talk, he very casually resets my head on the book and pretty much saves my sanity/project. This time, he more or less explained a tricky character to me by asking a few perfect what if questions. Nick for writer sainthood.
When I talk writing process with students, I talk a lot about phases: recognizing and distinguishing them and developing patience for moving through them. There’s a gathering phase, where you might not know what the project is, but things seem to attach to one another, like your mind is a forcefield for what might be normally incongruous things: someone who used to be an actor, rooftops, baby nursing, necklace charms, a fear of dogs2, trying to glue them together like Frankenstein’s monster. There’s the building phase, where you can see how the pieces might fit, and attempt to engineer it. Then there’s the assessing phase, which is so much of what revision —and lots of drafting—is. Where you’re asking what in the actual hell is this project? You’d think this would come before the building phase, and sometimes it does but not usually for me, and a lot of this isn’t linear (people are so surprised to learn how much of writing is not linear!) and definitely repeats. I’ll go back into generating or building or assessing so many times during a project.
It struck me that I’m in a phase I haven’t considered or articulated before, but which is familiar. I’m calling it the imprinting phase, a learning of my own book. All that reading and re-reading, the notetaking I’ve done, is meant to cement the story and the characters and the themes—the web of it all—in my mind, but loosely so I can rewrite it where I need to without an attachment to the text that’s there. That text is just a beginning, but it’s not the whole story, which is my job to pull up to the surface, the job of a revision: to crystallize a story.
What I’m Doing Now
Unraveling the mystery of this one character. I’m not entirely sure how to go about this. There’s a set of questions about her I need to answer, behaviors, likes, and so on. She goes through a lot in the book, and seems to be different people in different parts of it. So, how do I make her someone who is real enough to have a range of reactions but who still reads as a singular person?
Thinking carefully about the how. The above—this imprinting stage—was all about understanding the what: what is the essential story I want to tell, and what am I missing in order to tell that story? How do I get from here (what is) to there (what I know can be), essentially? Lots of times I’ll encounter a line of dialogue or some other true thing that doesn’t work in the scene it’s in and the question is always how do I find the way to this one good element working? How do I build around that nugget? Sometimes it’s a small moment but right now I’m thinking about this as a process for the whole book, which is honestly kind of nerve-wracking, thinking I might lead myself who knows where (and now with the added bonus of sharing any missteps publicly). I’m comforted by Peter Ho Davies’s assertion in The Art of Revision that we write in order to understand the story, not, as it’s commonly, (erroneously?) advised, writing what you know. So for now, I’m hanging out in the understanding that I have a lot yet to be understood.
What I’ve Learned
I still really like my book. I’m still surprised by this.
Intensive brain work, even the kind done while immobile, is physically exhausting. I am spent by late afternoon.
Certain things do rise to the top. Logistical stuff, which I thought would be bottom of my priority list, is actually proving to be fairly high on it, for now. There are small things—one of the characters is an academic, and I can figure out what her teaching schedule is later—but there are much larger logistical questions about her husband’s professional life that are the undergirding of so much, and I need to figure those out soon. How someone spends their days, resources, etc, matters a great deal. On a different scale, there is a major character I don’t really understand all that well. This is the biggest weakness in the book right now and also will be a giant band aid once I figure her out.
The most useful advice so far out of the revision advice I’ve gotten have been two things: asking about narrative purpose, and considering using chronology. Incidentally, they both came from my friend Rachel Lyon, who, incidentally, has written this incredible book I was so lucky to read early on and cheer on as she wrote it, and that you should 1000% pre-order. I’m going to ask you to do this a lot between now and next spring when it comes out.
There were fewer smirks as the book went on, but a longer list of terms to search (tender, creak, lift, restless). I’ll compile them at some point for your amusement, and yes, report on my smirk count.
What’s Ahead
Making some decision about how I’m going to crack the egg3 that is the manuscript. It’s one thing to have a giant list of things to change and it’s another to go into the text and begin to make those changes. I tell myself my first choice will be the choice that moves the project forward and going forward is the only way. This is as true of any part of writing as with revision. And I don’t mean necessarily forward in the project in the sequence sense, but in the process, which is certainly not linear. Some current possibilities I’m tossing around: running through my to-do index cards, highlighting all the scenes with that one character and keeping what feels true to her, figuring out what the hell is going on with the husband’s job. Stay tuned!
Religion of Office Supplies Report
I bought two more Microns. A purple. A pink. These might be my favorite annotating pens.
My dear friend Alyssa found my Optiflows, ordered what she thought were a dozen and turned out to be 5 dozen. I am rich in Optiflow pens.
Index cards in rotation! I used this really great Ohto Graphic Liner on those. It’s not meant for writing necessarily in that way, so it kind of ran out, but I love it and appreciate its humble sacrifice.
Still have no idea what to do with the giant Post-Its. They continue to be my revision anxiety purchase and I’m okay with that.
Where to Find Me
Back at my literal desk, right now. I have a new lamp, which is exciting4.
Planning my Reverse Outline class. I’m going to teach the index card method above, amongst other things, that help writers see the shape and direction and needs of their work. Class is on July 17th, on Zoom, from 5-7pm EST, if you’re looking to get in on some process yourself. $95. Please share with someone you think could use some big-picture thinking on their project.
Applying sunscreen and bug spray and thus entering the 2-shower-days days.
Processing season 2 of The Bear, all of it, particularly the Forks episode. But also, all of it.
Sucked into the social strata suspense of Emma Cline’s The Guest.
Back in two weeks. Thanks for all the cheering and support! I’ve also (finally?) opened up comments and likes on the newsletter if that’s your kind of thing.
Talk Soon,
Danielle
Expressions are so weird. Like did someone actually toss a baby out with bathwater at some point? Enough people to have such a thing enter the vernacular? I don’t want to know. I want to imagine this weirdness instead, with mild horror.
These are all elements of a story I’m working on, which is currently somewhere in between gathering and building phases.
I used to describe revision to students as being given a raw egg, cracking it, and being told to put it back together. I don’t think it’s that dramatic or messy so much anymore, but that can be what it feels like: breaking something that cannot go back to what it was before. Omelette time. Popover time. I’m writing this right around lunch time.
I bought it via sample sale and the steep discount is also exciting, so much so that I have to share this fact with you. I also really love the lamp itself, and you know, not writing in the (literal) dark.
Danielle,
I love this. It is so helpful for me as a new novelist to see your process. I am in my first semester of an MFA program and we are reading Davies' book, The Art of Revision. My brain continues to grow (I hope it doesn't explode) as I dive deeper into grasping what it truly means to revise. You are an inspiration! I will continue to follow you during this process. Thank you for sharing it with us!
Caren