Dire Necessities: Editing and Revision
"...suggestions for approaching the revision and editing process of your own work before you send it out."
Welcome to our weekly column offering perspectives on lit mag publishing, with contributions from readers, writers and editors around the world.
It’s not over till it’s over, and a story is never over when you finally get to the end of the first draft. Proud though you may be of your words, your diligence, your discipline, no matter how elegantly, or vigorously, or sweetly, or whatever other adverb you think of you dashed to the finish line...well, that was just the practice lap. Many are the editors and advisors whose guidelines include the warning: “Never send your first draft!”
So don’t. It will never be as good as you think it is. There will be typos, clumsy phrasings, unrealistic dialogue, continuity errors, and much, much more. You will need to go around the track a few more times to get it in tune. But in this case, you don’t just plunge in again immediately. You use a bit of method to make sure you won’t be wasting your own efforts and your future editor’s time.
Just this morning, I myself did a third run-through of a story I completed a few days ago. My first two rounds were rigorous, or so I thought. But I still found typos, and I still managed to squeeze a few more RPMs out of a sentence or two. This story did not need much editing—but it still needed some. I couldn’t know that without going through a process that forced my attention to the story and its intricate parts. I think it’s a winner now, and, if an editor refuses it, it won’t be because it’s not quite in tune and running rough. (There are plenty of other reasons a magazine might not want a perfectly good story, including genre, editorial calendar, and their own perception of what their audience likes.)
So, here follow a few functional suggestions for approaching the revision and editing process of your own work before you send it out.
1) Let it rest a bit. You must forget what you had in mind when you wrote it. The reader will not have the benefit you had of holding a mental outline to “explain” the story. Hemingway said that the writer must know the backstory thoroughly so that it shapes the actual writing, but that knowledge of it should not be required of the reader. Let the backstory and understructure express themselves only through plot, scene, and character. So, you need this mental construct to write the story, and then you need to wad it up and throw it away to edit. It is important to approach the story with the unbiased mind of the reader. I myself let full-length works rest a month before I start revisions, but for a short story a day or two is plenty.
2) A first draft isn’t enough. Neither is a second draft. Any story, no matter how brilliant it seems to you on first or second reading, needs at least three rounds of editing. Many will need more. Annie Proulx wrote that she sometimes went through thirty or more drafts of a short story. This is unusual, but it is still reasonable. Once your story’s done and rested, revise it no fewer than three times. I guarantee you will find something to change even on the third draft—and if you find a great deal that now displeases you (now that you are approaching it as a reader, not the writer) go for more. This is a service to yourself and your craft, and a favor to your editors.
3) Fall out of love with your craft. While of course you have to have an accurate estimation of, and appreciation of, your wordsmithing skills, do not allow too perfect a sentence to distract from the story. In other words, don’t show off. Every line should be only as elegant as it needs to be; if a sentence, a metaphor, an image is too striking, it will interrupt the reader’s flow and weaken the story. You must be ruthless here, as ruthless as a cat, and what elegance a phrase embodies should be as natural as the walk of a cat, and not the exaggerated strut of a runway model. Let your sentences serve the story, and not your ego. The age of Elizabethan poetry is over; I love it myself, but I can not write that way and express the joys and sorrows of an age shaped by existentialism and uncertainty. Read your tale out loud; if a sentence makes you stop and say, “Damn, I’m good,” then tone it down.
4) When in doubt, read out loud. This is advice frequently given and equally as often ignored. However, it is the best technique for finding not only the overwritten sentences referenced above, but any clunkers hidden in the text that your mind might gloss over from an intimate familiarity with your style. Reading out loud is one of the finest adjuncts of revision. Don’t hold back; just do it. Shut up and talk it out.
5) Get a second opinion. Find a trusted, experienced reader who is not in love with you and ask what they think of the story. Let them know that you are not asking them for praise, but analysis. This is not the most necessary step, and it is one I usually omit, mostly from lack of access in my immediate circle to readers who favor the sort of stories I write. (I do use a couple of acquaintances for review of longer works.) But if you can find one, it will increase your chances of placing stories into literary magazines.
6) Beware of dead words. Oftentimes thick-sounding ancillaries such as “the” and “that” can be omitted to improve rhythm and grace. (This was advice given me ages back by my mentor, who was a musician and musicologist.) I find that I can usually remove a reasonable minority of such words and improve the flow of the story without obscuring its surface meanings or confusing the reader. Again, read such lines aloud as you work them. Further: of course be sparing with adverbs and adjectives. As few as possible is best, with “possible” not being easy to determine. Too bad: writing is work, and work is not always easy. Remember, you volunteered for this gig.
7) Have faith in your work. Send it to editorial scrutiny as often as you need to and get it published. But: if a particular editor gives you advice on how to improve your story, consider it. Especially as you’re getting it free of charge! I have several times received suggestions from editors on a story, and, while I did not follow their specific recommendations, I revisited the parts of the story they pointed out, did yet another edit, and made the tale better. Not only that, I often sold it to that selfsame editor!
Seven tedious but necessary steps to finding homes for your work in the lit mag world. No matter how well you write already, going through this process will make you and your stories better. You will notice, readers will notice, and—perhaps the most important of all in a commercial world—editors will notice.
Do you have tried and true revision strategies of your own?
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I'm of the twenty revisions category and probably ten readers for each story. At least. Rarely does a story come out right early on that doesn't need alot of revising. Much of the time I'm asking readers just what they are understanding of the story to make sure I'm getting across what I hope to. But I don't have an MFA. I'm learning through writing. I do find one reader at a time can be most helpful. A large group all commenting in a workshop tends to be too confusing for me and often less helpful. There are exceptions to that. When I find a good reader I'll do anything for them! Certainly I make time to read whatever they send my way. I have one or two I pay.
Generally useful suggestions but over-used they will gut your unique voice.
One thing I couldn't disagree more about was this 'if a sentence makes you stop and say, “Damn, I’m good,” then tone it down'. To hell with that I say. :-)