Tag: Process

Getting into shape

PeterLeave a comment

I’m midway through the second draft of my novel, Unknown to God. I first began writing this several years ago and had completed the first draft before I was diagnosed with cancer. That hit my writing for six; it was over a year before I began on the second draft.

The sole novel I’ve published went through about five drafts. By the end, I was tweaking elements of it, trying to make it perfect. The heavy lifting and significant changes happened in the first few drafts.

I’m not an expert on this – I’m making it up as I go along – but I’ve got a fair idea of the editing process as it applies to me.

The first draft is pretty much a mind dump. You have an idea that’s ticking in your head like a bomb, and, in my case anyway, I’m dead keen to get it on paper before it goes off and there’s nothing left. Throughout this, I’m afraid the inspiration will leave me before I finish. I don’t know why. It’s almost as if I fear a sudden onset of amnesia. So, I’m not fussed over much with the first draft, and it can be pretty messy, and I’m mighty relieved once I’ve got it done.

I’ll take a break from it after that. Working so intensively it can get in your head in an unhealthy way. When that happens, it’s hard to think objectively about it, which is what you need. I take a few months off from it and work on something else. In the background, a part of my mind is still labouring on it, considering the changes I need to make. By the time I get to it again, it’s pretty ripe.

The second draft is about cleaning up the obvious crap and refining it into something more agile and readable. The story remains, but I’ll adjust the plot here and there, taking things out and maybe adding some in. I’ll look at the language and consider the motivations more deeply. There are more drafts to come, so it’s not about making it perfect but getting the shape of it right.

That’s my main focus, really. I may change things up in later drafts, but 95% of the story should be there after the second draft. I want to come to the next draft and know what it’s about without having to do all the thinking again. I can get stuck doing that, but it’s important.

The later drafts are about further refining it. It’s a bit like an athlete training for a big event. He starts fat and unfit but motivated, and as he goes along, he settles on a training plan, losing the fat and adjusting the program as he gets fitter and stronger, fine-tuning it as he closes on his goal. One day, he’s ready. That’s when I hope the book is ready, too – though it never is, really.

That’s where I’m at, midway through the second draft, and it’s been torturous. That’s partly because I got so busy with other things I couldn’t get a good routine going. In my experience, you need a pattern of work to get in the zone properly. When that happens, your mind remains fertile and productive so that when you return to the page, there’s plenty of stuff to go on with. But, up to a couple of months ago, I failed to get a work pattern going, and the writing came hard.

For the last little while, it’s been going well, but then I got stuck again. I didn’t know the right ‘shape’ this time. When that happens, I stare into space a lot, trying to figure it out. I want to get inside the story so the way forward becomes organic and natural. But it’s not always as obvious as that.

Sometimes, I’ll hook something I’ve written out to someone for feedback. What do you think? Does this work? How about x and y? It’s so choked in your mind you feel you can’t see clearly for yourself.

I reckon I must have rewritten this chapter five or six times. I’m tempted to go on to the next chapter sometimes and return to it later, but that doesn’t work. To start with, one chapter informs the next. It’s like trying to build a house without all the framework. And I’m pigheaded, too. I get so pissed with it I won’t move on until I’ve got it beat. I’ve always been like that.

It’s important though. It’s got to be authentic and move the story in the right direction. If I get the shape right now, it’s easier the next time. (By shape, I mean the basic plot and events of the chapter, the pacing and balance and, most importantly, the motivations that influence behaviour and action. It has to feel legit and make sense in the overall context.) If I get to the third draft without getting it right, I might find the story forks in a different direction from what I thought.

Finally, I’m nearing the end of the chapter and am satisfied with it – I think. It has the right balance now, which often equates to less is more. There’s been a lot of trial and error, a bit of experimentation, and everything short of mind-altering drugs. In the end, it’s a tried and true method that seems to have worked. I’ll write about that another day, but basically, it’s using the greats to inspire you to look at things differently.

No rest for the wicked

PeterLeave a comment

A couple of weeks ago, I finished writing my second novel. I thought I might finish it sooner, but the closer I got to it, the further it seemed to get away from me.

I don’t know how it is for others, but I feel incomplete until I’ve put that final word on (virtual) paper. It’s a funny thing to explain, but until then, you’ve got all these words in you and a vision of something, and you feel as if you’re racing against time to get it out there, lest you get hit by a truck – or, more scarily, the inspiration, the vision, disappears. It feels like a kind of magic, and that’s great, but it’s scary, too, and until you get it all in the bottle, there’s no rest.

The sense of relief – and release – once you’ve got it on the page is immense. You type the final full stop, sit back in your chair, and think, “Phew, I did it.”

It’s a fleeting emotion because, almost immediately, you’re aware of all the flaws in the manuscript. By the time you’ve got to the end of writing a book, you generally know the things you should have done differently and need to change, on top of which you have a sneaking suspicion that it might all be crap anyway. You think you’ve finished, but you know there’s a lot more work to do – but at least now there’s a version outside your head.

Finishing a book is tough. I’ve only written the two, so I’m not sure I can apply the term ‘generally’ yet – but, so far, I know the ending well before I get to it. I may even know how to approach it, what the tone should be, and so on – I did in the first, not in the second.

With this book just finished, I fluffed around, uncertain how to get from where I was to where I needed to get. There are many different ways to write the same scenes, and when you consider the scenes are apt to variation, there’s a lot to figure out. That’s why it took me longer than I hoped to get it finished. I couldn’t get it right and spent a lot of time staring off into the middle distance. I’d ask myself: what does it mean? What am I trying to say? What is he thinking? She? How would they react?

All of that is accentuated by the fact that nothing comes after this. There’s a full stop at the end of this, which means it has to make complete sense in itself and that all the myriad loose ends need to be addressed – if not tied up – in the few pages remaining to you.

But anyway – I did it. And it’ll do until I come to the second draft.

For now, it goes in the bottom drawer. I’ll clear my head of it, and when I get around to it again, I’ll approach it with fresh eyes. More of that later.