Because everyone loves a good story
On Writing, Part 5: Revision
Savory pot roast and mashed potatoes will always taste better than marinating beef and raw spuds. The book shelf displayed at Ikea will always be nicer than the pile of lumber, screws, and frustration on your living room floor. We know this because finished products are always more appealing than works-in-progress. So why, oh why, do we insist on comparing our first drafts with other authors’ published works?
Discouragement over a lousy first draft is a chronic problem for me. Even if I’ve written well in the past, my works in progress feel grueling and uninspired. (I forget that I felt the same way with my past projects too.) If you find yourself in the same predicament, take heart. Everyone—everyone—has to start with a first draft. Even Stephen King. So let’s see what he has to say about first drafts, second drafts, and improving our revisions.
Keeping the Door Closed
Stephen King is a real stickler about writing first drafts with the “door closed.” He means this literally so we don’t get distracted, but he also means we shouldn’t show the draft to anyone until it’s finished. When we’re in the middle of writing, we can feel pretty desperate for feedback—specifically, for reassurance. But King tells us to resist. “Keep the pressure on; don’t lower it by exposing what you’ve written to the doubt, the praise, or even the well-meaning questions of someone from the Outside World” (210).
Once draft one is the best we can muster, it’s time to put it on a shelf and walk away. Go back to real life. Start another project. Ideally, wait at least six weeks to come back to the story and begin working on draft two. Why? Because our minds need time to become objective again. The more distance we gain from the story, the more clearly we’ll be able to critique it when we return.
When to Open the Door
If we’re playing by King’s rules, he says we can hand over our first draft to our one, closest, “Ideal Reader” as soon as it’s finished. The catch is that they’re not allowed to talk to us about it until our hiatus is up. Otherwise we won’t get distance from it. And we shouldn’t give it to our handful of trusted reader friends until after the post-hiatus tweaking.
This tweaking means finding what we meant and narrow the story accordingly. Cut out the parts that detract from the overall message, and enhance the parts of the story that do convey the point. Afterward, we can hand it over to our five-ish trusted readers for feedback. If they all dislike different parts, “the tie goes to the writer.” Leave it alone. But if several pinpoint the same issue, it probably needs more tweaking.
The Garnish of Symbolism
Once we’ve gotten helpful feedback from our small band of editing warriors, we can consider enhancing the second draft with a few extras. For example, maybe the story would benefit from symbolism. “[Is symbolism] necessary to the success of your story or novel?” asks King. “Indeed not, and it can actually hurt, especially if you get carried away. Symbolism exists to adorn and enrich, not to create a sense of artificial profundity” (200). Don’t feel obligated to force it.
So we can’t let ornaments detract from the story itself, but if we find a fitting symbol during our editing, it could be a great way to “create a more unified and pleasing work” (200). Personally, I enjoy finding and deciphering symbols in stories and movies. It gives me greater respect for the writer who put time into thinking it through, and it deepens my enjoyment of the whole experience. But then again, I’m kind of a nerd, so maybe this isn’t a universal response. Either way, if you can include a symbol without letting it become obtrusive, by all means, do it.
Highlighting the Theme
At some point we have to decide what our story is about—not just the plot but the theme. For King, this happens during or after the first draft. For me, this happens before I ever type the words “Chapter One.” But King and I have different personalities and purposes. He aims to delight, but I aim to teach by delighting, as Sir Philip Sidney recommends in An Apology for Poetry. But, as we’ve discussed, stories are sure to morph by the end of the first draft, so some major overhauls may be required to clarify the theme. And that’s fine. We should hold our plans in loose hands.
However, theme carries the same caveat as symbol: don’t get carried away. No one enjoys condescending didacticism. If we bludgeon our poor, unsuspecting readers with a sermon when they expected a story, they won’t appreciate it. Instead, we should follow the model of Tolkien and Lewis by weaving our theme into a story so beautiful that it resonates with truth. It’s a high and lofty calling, but we’ll never reach it if we don’t try.
Take Heart
So if you’ve been feeling discouraged about your lousy first draft, don’t despair; you’re in good company. First drafts are meant to be lousy. In fact, if we were able to see the first drafts of the books we love, I think we’d be surprised and encouraged. As Anne Lamott says, “Almost all good writing begins with terrible first efforts. You need to start somewhere” (25).
So with that in mind, go start! Or go continue! But keep your chin up—draft two can fix a multitude of blunders.
Sources:
King, Stephen. On Writing: A Memoir of the Craft. Scribner, 2000.
Lamott, Ann. Bird by Bird: Some Instructions on Writing and Life. Pantheon books, 1994.
One Comment on “On Writing, Part 5: Revision”
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Hi Emily,
Thank you for sharing this! I just made a “revision plan” for a first-draft of a novel today, and this encouragement was a blessing!