This blog talks a lot about the active writing process. I’ve discussed how to create characters, how to develop a good plot, writing interesting descriptions, and so much more.
But I don’t talk a lot about revisions. There’s a reason for that.
I don’t like revising.
My disdain for revision is a personal failing and one I am working to improve. All of us have that one thing (or multiple things) about writing that we don’t enjoy; you are very unlikely to come across anyone who loves everything about the process.
Still, a good author is capable of completing every element of writing with equal dedication, meaning we must identify those things we’re not good at and consciously pour more effort into them.
So let’s get into my process and what I have learned to ease the pain. Hopefully you’ll find something here that helps you; if not, that’s okay. Every writer is a little different, and what works for me may not work for you.
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Identify why revisions are hard for you.
If you don’t have trouble with revisions or even enjoy it, then you likely don’t need this post; you have a process and are familiar with what you need. That’s fantastic. Unfortunately, I am not as awesome as you.
So if you are like me and dislike revisions, your first step is to figure out exactly why you don’t like it, which will help you identify ways to minimize the terrible components.
My problem with revisions is that I get anxious about when, exactly, to stop revising. I worry that if I continue poking at everything, I’ll never finish because I will find more and more things to fix.
This is also the reason why I don’t reread my work after I publish it. I haven’t read any of my books since they came out because I know if I do, I’ll find a million things I don’t like and get discouraged.
Maybe your problem is that you’re impatient and want to release as soon as possible. This is a more challenging issue to fix because, well, developing patience is hard as hell.
And another common reason, especially for those with poor self-esteem or newer writers, is that they see so many problems that they feel like they’ll never get to where they want to go. They suffer an existential meltdown when they revise because they have a vision in their heads of what their work could be, but don’t know how to get to that point.
Such an issue is extremely relatable, and it’s a great sign that you’re improving. You can see what’s wrong; you know what you want your work to be. You just haven’t figured out how to get from Point A to Point B quite yet, and that’s okay. You’ll get there in time. Revisions will help you do that, as will reading widely and picking up some books on craft.
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Give yourself twice as long to edit as you did to write.
That suggestion is probably shocking to you, and I completely understand. After all, revision is just swapping a few words, maybe deleting some sentences.
Not necessarily, no. You need to give yourself time to set the work aside and do other things, and you need to think very carefully about every word. Revision requires a slightly different skillset than writing; namely, the ability to think about audience, which was not as important when you were actively drafting your work.
If it took me two months to write a book, I expect it will take me four months to edit, and so on. That’s because I revise very slowly, working in one-hour sessions. Sometimes I only get through two pages of revisions in a day, while sometimes I do whole chapters; it all depends on where I am in the revision process. Things speed up closer to the end and I’m only making very minor edits.
You may be a faster reviser than I am, and that’s awesome; I commend you. But still, give yourself ample time to revise, anywhere from half the time to twice the time or more.
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Put your work aside for a while.
My post about stages of writing emphasizes how important it is to leave your work alone for a bit. I didn’t realize this key component of drafting until I read Tom Romano’s Clearing the Way, which goes into depth about the percolation process.
Percolation, or the process of letting your work simmer while you’re doing other things, lets your brain forget all the minor details. Why is this important? Because if you still have your vision of perfection in your head, you will start to autocomplete sentences and paragraphs based on what you envision. This means you’re not actually seeing what is wrong with your work, and therefore you can’t fix anything.
I let my drafts sit for at least a month, but many writers take even longer: three, even four months before they start revisions. Strangely enough, I find that the shorter a work is, the longer you should let it sit, because the less things you have to forget.
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Envision and plan during your percolation period.
Part of the joy in percolation is that it’s a time to ponder, brainstorm, and reflect without pressure. Because you know you’re not going to immediately plug this information into your story, you can sit and daydream about what you want to do.
I wrote a few chapters in Absent All Light (the fifth book) before I published the first books, and so I already had a good sketch of its plot in my mind. Since I’ve set it aside, I’ve pondered the themes I want and how everything will influence the rest of the series.
There’s a pivotal point in the book where a certain character’s life hangs in the balance. Their death would terminate their role and reflect one thing, while sparing them would influence the later parts.
I won’t tell you which character and what decision I made, but changing that has had a significant influence in how I intend to approach the book as a whole. I wouldn’t have made the superior choice if I had not been percolating for so long.
In my post about good mindsets for writers, I discussed how rituals can be a powerful way to harness our creativity by giving our brains an idea of what to expect. Lighting a candle, saying a prayer, or putting on a certain music playlist will prime you to focus because your brain now goes, “ah, it’s writing time because you did the little thing!”
We can use the same tactic when revising, though the ritual will look a bit different.
I mentioned a while ago in one of my newsletter emails that I have a specific method for my revisions. I will put some crystal singing bowl audio on low, then load up Sensory Readable and have it read my draft out loud. While I’m listening, I’ll work on an easy knitting project with a simple pattern that I can’t screw up too badly.
One of my favorite Revision Projects is the Sugar Cane Socks pattern, which doesn’t require you to turn the heel. Excellent for mindless work, especially as you can do it on two circular needles. And it works up fast so you can get visual proof of how long you’ve been revising.
Anyway.
My ritual works for a few reasons. The crystal singing bowl music drowns out other background noise. Listening to my work out loud helps me identify long sentences, weird phrases, or repeated words. Knitting offers bilateral stimulation similar to Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing, which calms the mind and connects disparate thoughts. But I pick an easy pattern so that I can set the knitting down, fix something here and there, then go back to what I was doing.
The goal here is to get through several pages, or even a full chapter, without stopping to change anything. Once I’ve gotten to that stage, I know I am almost done.
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Break revisions into different stages.
As evidenced by my posts about organizing your work, I am convinced that having a sequence of events is key to completing your writing projects. These sequences can’t be so rigid that you’re incapable of doing things out of order, but they also must be strong enough that you don’t get sidetracked.
I think about it like sculpting clay. You start with a big hunk of material (your draft) and begin with the basic shape: the plot, the character, the setting, and so on. You may need to add more material before you’re done, but once you have that shape, you cut more and more precise details, like switching synonyms.
Work on the broad strokes first, such as whether the plot makes sense, before getting more precise with each pass.
Also, it’s key that you continue to take breaks throughout revision, not just in the period between finishing and revising. Look at the plot; take a break. Look at the chapter structure; take a break. And so on, until you’re pretty sure you’ve got it all down pat.
Brandon Sanderson, renowned fantasy author, goes into what exactly he fixes in each draft. At each pass, he focuses on something a bit different: the first one is just the draft, then he does a full overhaul during the second one before cutting down language in the third one, each time drilling down into more precise detail.
When in doubt, I always defer to Brandon Sanderson. He is the most successful fantasy author alive, with millions of readers around the world. Clearly he knows what he is doing more than almost anyone else.
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Do your structural revisions before sending to a beta reader or editor.
I have rhapsodized about the joys of beta readers before, so please don’t think I’m dunking on them. In fact, beta readers are the most essential part of your team. They provide an objective and experienced view of your work that will help you identify issues while offering suggestions designed to make your voice shine even more vibrantly.
But I am also of the opinion that you you should try to fix everything you can before getting anyone else involved.
The reason for this is twofold. First, good beta readers are expensive. You want to have everything fully fleshed out so that they can get a look at your work in its most complete form. Otherwise, you are wasting money because you might need someone to take a second look after massive overhauls.
Second, while I would never say beta readers are a “crutch,” we want to build our self-editing skills. When you are able to self-edit, you can fix things before they become serious, structural problems that take a lot of energy to resolve.
As an example, I originally wanted to write my free novella, Saint Luridalr and the Peony Phoenix, in a similar style to the other books in the Eirenic Verses: a sense of immediacy, where readers feel like they are following along in the journey.
However, I quickly realized that this could confuse readers who are jumping into the series from the freebie; they may start to think that Saint Luridalr exists in the same time period as the other characters and will be an active participant in the rest of the series.
Because I caught this problem after only a few pages, I instead wrote it with the framing of the prologue and epilogue, which clarifies that Saint Luridalr is a legendary hero whose life story has become a founding mythology for the Bremish. I struggled mightily to write in a fairy tale style, but the payoff was significant, and that would not have happened if I hadn’t been able to puzzle my way through this decision.
A beta reader would not have had the full vision of the series as I do, and they may have thought my typical style was fine for this specific story. That would not be their fault, of course, but it would have led to new challenges in marketing the series.
So, try to get as much done as you possibly can by yourself before you bring anyone else in. Think of beta readers less as coaches teaching you everything you need to know and more as a final quality assurance check before you tie up the final loose ends and get ready to publish.
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As with everything else in writing, you will get better at revising the more you do it. You’ll also notice that you have less to revise over time because you’re subconsciously editing as you write, which is fine, as long as you’re still getting stuff done.
Revision, overall, is more about patience than nearly anything else in writing save marketing. You have to be willing to attack that draft with your intellectual ice pick until you’re satisfied, going in for the kill over and over again. That’s rough, and sometimes it hurts your feelings when you delete your darlings, but it’s ultimately worthwhile.
