Get It All Down

When I begin my first draft, I work with a short outline—character names, ages—and then it’s all about getting the story down on the computer. My first book, Six O’clock, I wrote longhand in spiral notebooks. My typing skills back then left much to be desired, and I didn’t feel that I could type and think the story through. With Unbeweaveable, and with this book, I am able to type it all up on the computer—something I never thought I would be able to do. When I write my first draft, I don’t check facts, I just keep writing. If I forget a character’s name I just leave a blank space _____ and keep going. Same for children’s names or anything else that I can’t remember. If I write a particular scene and I know that I’m not in love with it, I’ll leave a note for myself, something like, “Not in love with this scene, too unrealistic. Fix on second draft.” But the goal on the first round is to just get the words down, however horrible they may be. I also shoot for a word count of about 75,000 because I know I’ll need to add scenes in the future and I want to leave myself a little wiggle room.

On To the Next One

So on my first round of revisions I start by reading my novel—on the computer—all the way through. Most of the time I’m shaking my head in disbelief and wondering what kind of haze was I under to type such mess, but I don’t fix anything yet. Right now I’m just trying to see if I like the direction the story is taking me. And I did. Yes, it needed a lot of work, but I occasionally would read a scene or two that knocked my socks off and reminded me why I write. After reading it, I begin by fixing typo’s, misspelled names, etc. I’ll fill in all the blanks that the book may have. I also go through and give my characters their distinctive voices, no one talks the same so if I notice two characters that sound too much alike I’ll change it. I pump up the dialogue and fix any scenes where I’ve left myself a note to fix. Then I read it again. I’m still cringing at this point, but I can see a vast improvement in my work.

Off to the Printer

Now on my second draft I print out the pages of my novel. No more computer work here, I like to feel the pages in my hands as I transform scenes. This is my favorite part of revisions. Something about holding 300+ pages of your work makes you feel like you’ve really accomplished something, that all those late nights of no TV watching did not go in vain. It also makes me work harder to make the book better, because who wants to throw away a whole book and start over? Not I. So I read parts of my book aloud, so I can hear how the words sound. Does this conversation make sense? Does something here ring false? Out it goes. (With my trusty red pen of course. Nothing like seeing your manuscript marked through by red ink.) This is also the part where I add description, hoping to really draw the reader in with all their senses. How can I make them smell the banana bread my character is cooking in the oven? Describe it. Or what about the way the light hits the hardwood floors in the morning making them shine like new pennies? Describe it. I get my book printed only on one side and leave the back sides of pages with all my description notations. I also pull out the notebook that I did the basic outline with and begin to draw pictures of my characters homes, nothing fancy, just a basic floor plan so I can keep the story consistent. Does my character have to walk upstairs to get to her bedroom? Do you have to walk through the kitchen to get outside? Those kinds of things help me keep the story alive. I also add to the outline making it much more extensive, going through each chapter, scene by scene. I’ve just started this process, so I’m expecting this to take me about two to three months to finish. (I’d like to have it finished by November. If I’m really good, October.)

Back to the Computer

So now I input everything I’ve written into the computer. Not the outline—I keep that in longhand, sort of like a memento—but all my new red scenes I transcribe to the computer. This becomes another draft in of itself, because as I’m typing I find ways to improve my words, so again, I’m revising. This doesn’t take a long time, maybe a few weeks tops.

Now normally after this point I would give the book to my reader, (hey Mama!) and get her viewpoint. Then it would be another light revision and that would be it, off it would go to my editor. But with this book I’m taking a different approach. I’m adding three more rounds of revisions. Why so many? Because with growth comes change, and if I don’t change the way I write and really take myself seriously, then I won’t reach my full potential as a writer. I’ll let you guys know the different techniques I use when I get closer to that stage.

Any writers care to chime in on how you revise your books?

Lately, I’ve been thinking—how many books does it take to no longer call yourself a newbie? Three? Four? Ten? Is a newbie measured by the books they’ve written or how many years it took to write those books?

I ask this question because as I’m revising my next novel, I see my improvement and the growth I’ve developed as a writer over the years. I’m still learning my craft, but I see my voice getting stronger and stronger. With all this, would I still call myself a newbie? In a lot of ways, yes. I do feel that I’ve learned a lot with two books under my belt, so I would say that I am a senior newbie, approaching graduation. Still in school, still learning, but definitely older and wiser than her freshmen counterparts.

Something to think about as I approach another rest-filled weekend. Thanks for all the well wishes as I recover, you guys have been great. Okay, now back to work!

I’m no chef, but I can cook. (What? You haven’t tried my chicken tortilla soup? For shame!) I really love one pot dishes—throw a few ingredients together, put the top on, done. The dish has practically cooked itself. Every writer has their way of going through the revision process, but I promised myself this time around that I wouldn’t rush this book through. So I’m taking some time to let my book simmer in my head for awhile, giving it time to get some flavor. Stepping away from my book gives me perspective and helps me work out any kinks before I delve in, red ink pen in hand.

So how long do I wait? This is the tricky part. Ideally, you want to step away from you’re novel, but you don’t want to stay away so long that you’ve forgotten their voices. I’m giving myself two weeks to not touch it. It’s hard, because I get the itch to write but I make myself slow down and to really think any new plot twists or turns through before adding them. Just like with cooking, you have to taste before you add any additional spices. It might be that you don’t have to add anything at all. (I wish! If this book were a stew it would need salt, pepper—oh who am I kidding, just throw the whole spice rack in.)

Revisions are my favorite part of writing. For me, writing the first draft is killer. I think about all those empty pages in front of me and think, “Oh boy. Time to feel you guys up with words.” But with revision, I see all the words and get excited because I’m just making it better. I’m just adding a dash of salt here, sprinkle of pepper there. But the major work is done.

Elaine tests Jerry’s theory by asking him for twenty bucks.  He gives it to her and she’s throws it out the window.

“Now let’s see if you get your twenty bucks back.”  As they leave his apartment he puts his jacket on and finds twenty bucks in his pocket.

I’m Jerry. Or rather my book is Jerry. Everytime I add a scene to my book, I remove a scene that isn’t working. So while I’m trying to increase my word count, I remain around the same number.  Even-Stevens.

My family will ask me how my book is going. 

“Okay I guess.  I’m at 74,000 words.”

“Weren’t you at 74,000 words yesterday?”

“Yes, but today it’s a different 74,000 words.”

“Okay…”

They obviously don’t get it.  Do you?

How did I fix it?  I took a day off. No writing whatsoever. I just let my mind roam free for new ideas. (That includes plenty of reality show TV watching.)

One of the shows was TLC’s, Say Yes to the Dress.  One of the brides didn’t want to listen to her mother and insisted on picking a heavy, overly-designed wedding dress, that did nothing for her petite frame. (Consider the photo. Enough said.)

“Simple is best,” her mother kept saying. 

“But I like this dress,” she whined.  She couldn’t let go of the image of what she thought her wedding dress should look like.  But she finally gave in and tried on a dress that her mother suggested. (Could it be because her mother was paying for the dress in the first place? Perhaps…)  The dress was simple, yet spoke volumes. It was elegant, and chic. It was perfect.  The bride knew it, and thanked her mother for pushing her to try it on.

“Eureka!” I said. (Okay, I didn’t actually say that, but it’s a cool word don’t you think?) “That’s my problem! I need to simplify!”

By the day’s end I had re-worked several scenes.  I know I’ve done my book justice by removing all the extra flubber I didn’t need, and now my book is much more simple. Like the mother said, “Simple is best.”

When my boss pulled me aside I expected her to commend me on all the money I was bringing in.

“You do good work,” she said. “But you stopped doing your best work.”

I was upset at first, but then I let her criticism sink in. She was right. I stopped caring about the quality of my work, and started doing an assembly-line of clients. In and out, in and out–my work became a revolving door of mediocrity. I was getting sloppy.

That lesson taught me to always send out my best work. Right now I have a small reader base, but that doesn’t give me an excuse to just throw my next book together. My readers deserve better. 

So as I’m going through a major re-write of my book, “Unbeweavable”, I’m giving it my all. I’m not writing a good book, I’m writing the best book I can.

 But now that I’m older I want to be more natural.   No more acrylic nails, no more weave, just plain ‘ole me. And I actually like myself better without so much stuff. A couple of years ago I would have felt naked without my weave, but now I feel comfortable in my skin and my shorter ‘do.

The same can be said on the novel I’m working on now.  I’m developing my characters more fully, describing my scenes clearly, and making my backstory more intriguing.

And my novel is growing, getting healthy and thick–slowly but surely.  If only the same could be said for my hair! Patience is a virtue…

Until I had one of my favorite clients beg me to do her hair for her wedding.  “Please, Katrina.  You have to do it.  It’s my wedding day!”  And as I looked down at the dreaded photo she brought with her, my hands shook.  It was an up-do.  And not just a simple bun, it was an intricate style that would require at least a hundred bobby pins.  “Um…I don’t think so.  Why can’t you let–”

“No,” she said emphatically.  “I want you to do it.  The wedding is six weeks away and you’re my stylist, so style!”

I blew out a nervous breath and began.  I practiced day and night on this hairstyle–even pulling out my mannequin from beauty school.  And by the time her wedding came, I watched her walk down the aisle with pride because her hair was beautiful.  Not just okay, but exquisite.  Doing her hair pushed me to start doing up-do’s with my other clients.  I never grew to like them, but I knew as a hairstylist they were part of the skills I needed to be competent.

I say this because I love writing dialogue.  I’ve caught the subtle nuances of how people talk and I stick that in my writing.  But I’m not good at describing a scene.  Most of the time I ignore the problem until my re-write, but it made my re-writes more extensive–and painful than they needed to be.  I couldn’t ignore this problem anymore, I had to face it dead on.  Like an up-do.

I hate writing description because it’s hard for me to get the reader into the scene.  It feels forced, like I’m trying to hard.   So when I’m doing my re-writes, I make myself  add the necessary scenes that will make my book complete.   I give description the attention it deserves. I’m getting better at it too.  It’ll never be as natural to me as writing dialogue but I don’t hate it anymore either.  But I know I need this skill to be competent as a writer.  So I ask, what’s your up-do?

For instance, when I wanted to try a new hair product on a client, I could give them a list of ingredients and tell them how great the product would be for their hair.  “Try this smoothing serum.  It has silicone in it, which will make your hair cuticles lay flat and prevent frizzing.” Boring right? 

But if I put a few drops of serum in their hair and let them feel the difference it made–more shine, less frizz, noticeable softness–they were sold.  They would buy the product because they could see how it worked. 

Writing is the same thing.  We need to show our readers what we’re talking about so they feel it.  If we can’t grab their emotions, then we’re not doing our job as writers.  They won’t connect with the characters and eventually they will do what every writer fears–they will put our book down.

So here’s what I did to show that my character was irritated.  I used her body language to show that she was upset.  I would have her drum her nails on a table, or scratch her head.  Sometimes I would use italics to put emphasis on certain words.  Instead of, “I said I would take you to the store.” I changed it to, “I said I would take you to the store.”  Little things like that made a big difference in my manuscript and I could stop using the word sigh as a crutch.  Don’t get me wrong, I still use it–but only as a last resort.  Do you have any words or expressions that you wear out in your writing?