Leveling Up

Harnessing Revision to Make the Good Even Better

Heather Webb

I’m a freelance editor as well as an author and a reader, so revision is a topic that’s near and dear to my heart. I like to think of the editing process as the point where we lavish our stories with love, pruning and fine-tuning our words so that the manuscript ripens into a novel. As it happens, I just recently finished my third novel. Since I had pushed in a slightly new direction from my other two books, this story challenged me in ways I hadn’t experienced before, resulting in a lengthy revision process. I tangled and toiled, reworked and reread. At times, I felt like I was wandering in the dark, unsure if I was headed in the right direction. But I did know one thing: I had to give myself the time I needed to revise properly, to revise well.

What does revising well mean? Regardless of where you are in your journey to becoming published, you can employ some useful tools and methods during the editing process to ensure your own revisions are fruitful. Below are some of my favorites.

LEAN INTO YOUR STRENGTHS

What have your readers enjoyed most about your works? Embrace those elements, and look for other scenes in your manuscript where you can use them to make the prose sing. Perhaps you’ve been told you write fast-paced stories. Harness that natural eye for pacing, and integrate tension in a slower, more internal scene to give it zip. Maybe your critique partners have enjoyed your descriptions. Are there places you can thread in a bit more detail to ground the characters in scene or create a certain mood? If your strength is dialogue, use it wherever you can to convey subtext as well as highlight a character’s voice.

Your strengths are a big part of your authorial voice. They're what make you unique as a writer.

The problem is, you’ve worked on this book forever and read it a hundred times. How do you even find areas in the manuscript where you can lean into your strengths or layer for depth? I’ve found the handiest method, in addition to working with multiple critique partners or an editor, is to read your chapters out of order. Keep track of what you’ve finished by making a list of the chapter headings on a piece of paper. Cross each one off as you go so you don’t backtrack. To push this idea even further, print out the entire manuscript rather than reading it on your screen.

Reading in this way prevents you from getting caught up in the flow of story, breezing over the portions you know by heart, and essentially missing opportunities to polish, deepen, prune, and heighten tension. I like to think of this stage of revisions as putting a dollop of whipped cream on a sundae or a sprinkle of Parmesan on pasta; you know the dish is tasty already, but adding the final touches makes it spectacular. (I can’t help myself; I love a good food metaphor.)

PRACTICE METAPHORS AND OTHER COMPARISONS

Speaking of metaphors, they’re one of my favorite literary devices. Used properly, they can create a sense of tone, reveal a character’s emotional space, and also foreshadow coming events. They add depth and beauty to a narrative that give it a sense of richness. Are there places in your manuscript where the main character’s emotions shift? How can you use a metaphor to illustrate this shift?

I find one of the more interesting forms of comparisons is the use of parallels. Parallels link two contrasting characters through their very similar journeys. Not only can they shed light on each of the character’s traits, motivations, and goals, but they can also be used as an element of foreshadowing about what is to come for the protagonist.

Writing metaphors and other comparisons are skills one obtains through plenty of practice and mindful reading. To hone your metaphoric dexterity, read poetry—the more the better. Poetry creates links in your brain that help you discern and design metaphors and parallels, and grasp shades of meaning, rhythm, and style. Your mind absorbs all of these devices, all of these beautiful words, and begins to make connections that find their way to your pages.

USE SYMBOLS TO ADD MEANING

Using symbols is one of the most effective ways to elicit an innate emotional response or to convey meaning to a reader. Consider a crucifix, an American flag, a rabbit’s foot, a dove; though these are common and simplistic, they are tangible, and all evoke immediate perceptions and emotions.

Let’s look at one of these symbols. An assassin creeps through an almost-deserted office building late at night. He spies his target at a desk and peers through the scope on his gun. Just before he shoots, he fishes inside his shirt for his cross necklace. He kisses the cross, aims the gun, and shoots.

We learn a lot about this character by his simple action. Is he on some sort of mercenary errand? Perhaps he’s a flagellant or a vigilante. His cross also tells us something about his possible ethnic background, depending on where the story takes place. Since he follows a religion, he might be sympathetic in some way. In any case, we get a strong sense that this assassin isn’t your average CIA operative.

Develop your own symbols. Find ways in which these objects not only tell a tale of their own but also become a part of the protagonist’s journey.

DROP HINTS, GIVE CLUES

Foreshadowing is a terrific device for deepening the narrative as well as creating tension. Once you have a complete draft or two, review chapter one. In what way can you thread in clues about the character’s journey ahead? Where else might you be able to add a line or two of internal reflection or dialogue that offers a peek into the protagonist’s future? Ponder the tone you would like to evoke, keeping in mind that foreshadowing often indicates impending doom. Tread carefully, too, as this device can be overplayed and therefore can lose its impact. Integrate it into the narrative with a delicate hand.

MAKE SECONDARY CHARACTERS COUNT

Secondary characters aren’t just a part of the external action that drives the plot. They’re a means to reveal facets of the protagonist’s personality, motivations, and goals, whether positive or negative. These secondary characters shouldn’t just fill a role; they should be useful and bring meaning to a scene or the story as a whole. They may act as mirrors of the protagonist, in which the two possess similar traits and complement each other, or they may be used as foils, in which the secondary character is vastly different to emphasize the protagonist’s weaknesses and strengths. Finally, a secondary character may be used to reflect the protagonist’s arc or change over the course of your story.

Let’s look at a simple example. Jack leaves a cafe after a date with his lovely neighbor, Marilyn—a woman who hasn’t given him the time of day until now. On his way down the street, he passes a shop window and notices his reflection. His shirt strains over a new bulge of muscle on his chest, determination is reflected on his features, and scruff grows on his chin, which makes him appear less vulnerable and perhaps more masculine. He feels alive, vigorous, and confident. This budding friendship with Marilyn (a secondary character) has helped him see himself in a new light. He must be someone worth knowing if she wants to spend time with him. Jack is changing, growing. In essence, a secondary character has triggered the steps toward Jack’s arc.

The delicate details Jack sees in his reflection seem unimportant, but they add up to a well-developed main character.

INTEGRATE QUIRKS, TICS, AND FLAWS

At times, the best way to deepen a character is by showing her quirks, tics, and flaws. What is the story behind this flaw? What makes this quirk endearing—or grating—to others in the story or to the reader? Drop hints about why a character possesses these idiosyncrasies throughout the narrative. Not only does withholding the information promise there is more to this character than first perceived, but it also adds a layer of tension that tempts the reader to turn the page.

REVISE IN DRAFTS, AND MAKE THE ROUNDS

We hear a lot about layering our manuscript, but what does this mean, exactly? I find the two best strategies to create well-developed, layered fiction are working in drafts and soliciting feedback in multiple rounds.

Begin by examining your process. How many drafts do you need to create a solid, salable manuscript? Do you muddle through each draft, juggling different points as you go? This can be frustrating and can also cause you to neglect certain elements of the story. For each draft, try a round of editing with a specific purpose in mind.

Let’s look at my system as an example. In draft one I simply get the words down on paper. In draft two I make sure all plot threads connect and make sense, add any necessary scenes to attain this goal, or condense or cut miscellaneous scenes that have no purpose. During draft three I print out the entire manuscript and check voice and character arcs. In draft four I read aloud for pacing and awkward dialogue. After this draft I send out the manuscript to my first round of critique partners. Once I have their feedback, I incorporate it for draft five. In draft six I apply the polish—descriptions, wordsmithery, metaphors, symbolism. Next, I send the manuscript out to one more round of readers. In draft seven I incorporate their feedback. Finally, I send it to my agent.

Giving your manuscript to readers at different stages allows you to test whether the changes you’ve implemented are working. For example, I mentioned above I distribute my manuscript to my first round of critique partners after my fourth draft. For this round, I ask them to read for plot, pacing, and character arcs. Asking specific, pointed questions helps me get a feel for whether my revisions thus far have been successful. It also helps the reader zero in on any possible problem areas. For the second round of feedback, I may ask a different set of questions surrounding pieces I’ve “fixed,” or I may ask for general impressions so as not to bias their thinking while they read.

Working steadily and carefully, and allowing yourself the time you need to process—staring out the window, taking long showers or drives, doodling in your notebook, plucking weeds—are imperative to shaping your manuscript into something rich and beautiful.

The bottom line is, whether you’re a “pantser” or plotter, a three-draft person or a ten-draft person, all of that brilliance doesn’t flow to the page in one go. Be systematic in your editing approach to eliminate unnecessary dithering. Utilize readers after various stages to check your work as you go. Be diligent. And above all, have patience with yourself. Your process is your process, and much of the time that means you need to give your mind time to work through the many puzzles that come with crafting a novel.

HAVE PATIENCE—WRITING IS ART

Consider how a painter works. A painter begins with a blank canvas. She sketches her ideas or outline on paper, perhaps even completes a watercolor of the picture she’s envisioning. Next she primes her canvas. After each layer of paint, each detail added to the work, she must wait for the paint to settle and dry before moving on to the next. How do the color and the object appear after the paint dries? Does the image or hue need adjusting? After dozens of layers and many, many hours of careful strokes, the artist has produced a completed work. But what would happen if the artist didn’t wait long enough for the paint to dry? The images might become obscured, the colors muddied. She might consider the painting a masterpiece—the very best she could do—or she could feel that it’s not quite right and certainly not her best.

Now look at your process as a writer. You might brainstorm ideas, take notes, create an outline of some sort—whether your outline is a first draft or pages of organized notes on chapters, themes, and characters. Next you construct the story, word by word. After each draft, a bit of time away from the manuscript allows the story to settle and set before you go into the next round of layering.

As an artist, you need to allow your stories to ripen. Be patient with your characters and story arc. Give them time to reveal themselves to you. And most of all, be patient with yourself as you create and try new things.

GROW, EXPAND, AND REACH FOR THE STARS

Writing the same sort of plotline, characters, or worlds can cause your skills to stagnate. Push in a new direction. Keep things fresh, flowing. Making the good better involves both practice and stepping outside your circle of comfort. Be bold. Be brave. Be original. Refill your well often, challenge yourself daily, and create with all your heart. It will show in your writing, and you’ll reach new heights.

When we stop growing, we’re dying. That’s my motto.