A Mechanic’s Guide to Revisions

Consider Story Change as Skillful Overhaul

Cathy Yardley

You’ve completed a rough draft, which is cause for celebration. You’ve let it rest, just as so many writers have suggested. You’ve gone over it. You’ve let a few beta readers review it as well. You have a full toolbox: You’re ready to mind map, mark up the manuscript with a colored pen, cover it with sticky notes, and even scissor-snip it if necessary. You’ve got Scrivener or some other nifty electronic tool that will let you shift scenes and add notes. You are prepared! Unfortunately you are also at a complete loss as to where to start.

You can think of your first draft in artistic terms: You’re molding clay, throwing paint on a canvas, or allowing your creativity to run rampant to produce the raw material. This is where your most powerful prose and authentic and vibrant themes emerge.

When you get to revision, you’ve got all the material you need, more or less. What you need to do is take all that stuff and make it go somewhere.

So instead of artwork, think of your story as a car. Your job now is to be that car’s mechanic. (And if you’re not mechanically inclined, don’t worry—I wouldn’t know a carburetor from a crankshaft. It’s just an analogy.)

TEST THE ENGINE

The engine of your story is your character arc. Your protagonist(s) should be different at the end of the book than they are at the beginning. That’s what readers want to see. These days, I would argue that all fiction—even the most action-packed thrillers or coziest mysteries—is character driven.

If your character hasn’t changed over the course of your story, then your engine doesn’t run.

If your character doesn’t have a clear goal (preferably external and measurable if you’re writing genre fiction), then your story is probably stalled in the driveway.

If your character doesn’t have a clear reason for wanting said goal, one attached to a clear and painful consequence for failure, your story is probably stuck on the side of the freeway.

And if your character doesn’t have strong and escalating conflict to prevent said goal from being accomplished, it’s time to call a tow truck and haul that thing in.

MAKE SURE YOU HAVE ALL THE PIECES

If you find that your engine theoretically works but your car isn’t going anywhere, then look at the overall system. Is the starter not working? (Does the story have a potent hook?) Is the fuel not getting to the engine? (Should the reader care?) Is something going haywire between the engine and the wheels? (Does the protagonist compel the reader to go on a journey with him?)

In short, something’s not connected. An engine block alone isn’t going to get you any closer to your destination; it needs a framework, a structure, and machinery that direct the energy and momentum in a useful way.

This is where you start looking at your plot. It’s called the “Hero’s Journey,” after all, not the “Hero’s Day of Navel Gazing.” The story needs to illustrate, through gradually increasing conflict toward a well-motivated goal, how the protagonist evolves through the crucible of challenge.

That’s what plot is: showing, not telling, how the protagonist changes.

MAKE SURE ALL THE PIECES ARE CONNECTED

The next step is to check your plot arc. Are all the major turning points connected? Do they make sense? If you’re working with traditional three-act structure—the genre standard—then you probably know the elements you need:

• An opening act that establishes who the character is, what he wants, why he cares so much, why we as readers should care, and finally, what he’s up against.
• A second act that puts the character through her paces and causes her to transform—from wanting something very badly but having no clear idea how to accomplish that desire to gaining information, skills, and confidence as the opposition throws obstacles in her way.
• A final act that is a culmination of events. Will the character achieve the goal or not? If the character succeeds, it is through character growth and development. If the character fails, the growth itself usually turns out to be the true reward. Regardless, the ending needs to be both satisfying and logical.

TUNE UP YOUR STORY TO SMOOTH OUT THE RIDE

Okay, so your story is up and running. You’ve got characters doing important things that they are clearly invested in, all while facing formidable opposition. Everything seems to be going the right way.

As a mechanic, you know the thing’s running, but it’s running rough. There are splutters and stalls and unexplained bumps, and you don’t know where the heck that knocking is coming from.

So you roll up your sleeves and start to test your components, step by step, scene by scene.

Traditionally this is known as the second pass—where you go more granular, making sure each scene contributes something meaningful to the whole.

Here are some places where problems usually crop up.

If Your Story Stalls …

You probably have issues with your character’s goal, motivation, and conflict (GMC). Every scene (yes, every scene) should connect to the GMC. If you’re missing that connection, or if all of your scenes have the same level of intensity, then your story will stall out.

Repair it: Write down the GMC for your protagonist in every scene, and give it a high-level once-over. Is the GMC present? Does it evolve? If not, revise the scene.

If you find your story stalling out at a certain point, odds are your problem started about two or three scenes prior. Setup makes all the difference. Make sure you didn’t jump the story rails earlier, and don’t try to fix things by simply adding more stuff to the problem scene. You’re a mechanic, remember? Get in there, and get dirty.

If Your Story Is Running Too Slowly …

Certain craft elements might be dragging down your pacing like a low-riding muffler. Ask yourself:

• Does the reader spend a lot of time in the character’s head?
• Are you showing, not telling?
• Worse, are you reiterating what’s being illustrated by spelling it out in the character’s thoughts?
• Are you going through every detail in excruciating minutiae? (Does the reader really need to know that your protagonist put on his lucky socks, got on the crosstown bus—number 71—and then meandered to the local coffee shop for his usual double latte and copy of the Times?)

Repair it: Pretend the story is a play. Make sure that the actions and dialogue do most of the story’s heavy lifting. Also, make sure that the details you include are there for a reason.

If Your Story Is Running Too Fast …

You may be revving a little too hard with that plot of yours! This creates what a friend of mine calls “falling asleep at the edge of your seat.” It’s not just about breakneck pacing, lots of set pieces, action scenes, and ridiculous stunts. Both comedy and action benefit from taking a breather between dramatic moments.

If your story takes a breather, this doesn’t mean those scenes lack GMC, by the way. But your writing can get more circumspect.

Repair it: If your characters have been acting, pursuing, and striving, give them moments to ruminate. Show them questioning their motivations. Show what they have to lose, in stark relief. Show the results of their actions in triumph; give them hope. You’re probably going to obliterate that hope again anyway—which will increase conflict and tension.

If Your Story Has a Flat …

This is slightly different than a story that’s running slowly. The story structure itself is sound, and the pacing would be fine, except that something isn’t working as it’s supposed to. It’s flat.

This issue usually links to character—either the characterization itself, the dialogue, or the voice.

You can test for characterization problems by asking the following: Would your character believably respond in this way, given this set of circumstances? If no, then the flatness probably comes from a forced plot device. Figure out another way for the character to resolve the situation that rings true.

If your character’s actions do feel authentic, then your character may not be well rounded. How much do you know about this person, anyway? You don’t need to show it all on the page, but further exploring your character’s history and choices will help align your story and add greater depth. A deeper look at backstory here, a shading of words there, can build dimension and color. (For more on backstory, see the essay “Story First, Plot Second” by Lisa Cron.)

Do both of those things check out? Then it’s time to look at dialogue. Does everyone sound the same? If you pulled out a section of dialogue and put it on a page, would you be able to tell which lines belong to which characters?

Finally, does the internal voice of your character reflect his unique dialogue? Your point-of-view characters may sound too homogenous, too staid. Don’t be afraid to imbue your scenes with personality. It will help readers fully immerse themselves in your character’s POV.

If There’s a Problem with the Steering …

You may need to check on the driver. Did you choose the right POV for this story? Ask yourself whose story you’re telling, who has changed the most throughout the story, who has the most to lose or the biggest stakes. These are things you don’t often see until after you’ve finished the first draft, even though you thought you knew what you were doing all along. (Stories do that sometimes—take a hard right when we meant to go left.)

If your story has multiple POVs, have you handled them all clearly? The reason editors shy away from “head hopping” is because it can confuse readers; it’s like teleporting them from one vehicle to another with no time to adjust. Every time they need to reorient themselves and figure out whose POV they’re in, the flow of the story hiccups.

Repair it: Check each scene’s POV. If you shift POV within a scene, make sure that you haven’t done so too frequently, that you have a good reason, and that a primary character’s GMC still directs the action.

Remember: Your POV character is the vehicle through which your reader experiences the story. The deeper readers can immerse themselves, the better.

If You Can’t See out the Windows …

It’s dangerous to move the story forward if your reader can’t tell what’s happening or where you’re going. Make sure to anchor your reader in the here and now! This is, fortunately, a fairly easy fix.

Repair it: Somewhere near the beginning of the scene, let your reader know how much time has elapsed since the previous scene and where the characters are. Also, show the scene goal.

DO SOME BODYWORK

Your story is running like a top and purring like a tiger. Unfortunately it still looks like a hoopty. Here’s where you make it shine.

• Pound out the dents. Check for continuity errors. These can be jarring details, like a hero having blue eyes in the first chapter and brown eyes in the sixth. Or naming a character Phil, only to have him become Terrance in the third act.
• Check for logic errors. There is nothing more embarrassing than to plan an exquisite and intricate escape scene, only to have a reader point out, “Why didn’t he just go out the window? It was open.”
• Give it a paint job. Setting. Description. Voice. These are the colors of your writer’s palette. This is what brings vibrancy and texture to your story and prose.
  • Make sure that the setting is more than just a bare stage, even if you want readers to focus on actions over environment. Emphasize and enhance locations that contribute to the scene’s purpose.
  • Be specific in your descriptions when they matter to the story you’re telling. There’s a big difference between “he stood by a blue car” and “he stood by a rusted, slate-blue sedan.”
  • Finally, voice. This is where your individuality, your soul as a writer, comes through. Be as authentic as you can. If it scares you, either because you feel too vulnerable or you’re worried about how people will respond, then you’re probably going in the right direction. (See the essay “Your Unique Story” by Robin LaFevers for more on this topic.)

TAKE IT TO THE CAR WASH

Time to clean it up, inside and out. Fix typos, word choice, and any slight errors.

REPEAT AS NEEDED

Revisions don’t have to be scary; they’re just part of the process. While great revisions can create amazing works of soul and beauty, revision itself is more craft than art. Focus on the mechanics before you rather than your fears, and you’ll find it a lot easier to dive in, make decisions and adjustments, and ultimately have a story you’ll love.