Revisionist History

I’m in the middle of revisions for the new manuscript, which is both daunting and energizing.  It’s energizing for obvious reasons; I can see the end.  It’s daunting in another – actually multiple – ways: there’s a lot of editing (and a lot of moments of “what the hell was I thinking/did I mean/what?”) and entering those changes and then I know there’s yet another run-through after that. 

All the while, the clock is ticking.

Of course, that’s also a bit of a made-up deadline, but this project does, in fact, need to be done in short order.  Relating it to the anniversary of an event means that timing matters, and this isn’t a project I’ll be able to sit on for months or a year or more and not do anything.  And even that is probably a poor approach; time is always limited, often when we are least likely to see that as a background condition.

My process for revision is tedious and boring.  First, when I reach a stage that drafting is complete, or nearly so, I go through all of it on the screen just to clean up what I can.  Second, I run a print out and go line-by-line with a pen.  It staggers me to recognize how much I see when it’s on paper, rather than on the screen.  I’m not sure what that means cognitively or conceptually, as I have plenty of experience reading both physical books and e-reader versions.  But I’ve found that hard-copy stage to be absolutely necessary, especially on the bigger projects and especially because I tend not to write the big projects in a linear way.

My approach helps me keep momentum on the drafting process, but it also certainly makes for a lot more work when it comes to putting it into a coherent state.  I’ve never actually built a brick wall, but I think there’s a lot of that analogy to my writing; building different spots, moving things around so that they fit together better, if not perfectly, and then writing some transitions and explanations (the mortar) and, when appropriate (and it is a lot more appropriate, I’ve found) to cut and re-word, re-work and rephrase. 

I know, for example, with this manuscript that I’m going to be losing several thousand words out of it.  I need to change passive voice to active in many spots, and not vice versa and, to the extent I am writing new stuff into transitions and clarifications, that not be done in passive voice.  At the same time, the style calls for a mix of active and passive, I believe, so I’m not after changing each and every sentence and expression.

Another constant point for me is that doing all this stuff takes longer than what I plan on.  This book was supposed to be done a month ago, at least, and by “done” I largely meant done, including the revision stage.  By “done,” I meant, “at the publisher.”  That has not happened yet.  It’s going to…soon.

And plus, there are two other projects that have been on pause since I’ve been devoting so much time to this one…and they are starting to clamor for attention.  I’ve no doubt this is a subconscious thing…some part of my mind is realizing that we are pulling into the final station on the current book, and the muse demands attention to the new, the waiting-to-be-born.

But – revisions first.  That said, the enemy is perfectionism.  And with that, the fear of failure.  What if I send this beast out into the world, and they hate it?  What if I have to take it back to the drawing board?

Well – that’s certainly a possibility.  I do try to enlist and enroll the editorial process into making the finished project better and, given my past experience and my knowledge of the states of the manuscripts leading up to that, it is inevitably the case.  I can always tell with my own work what has been edited well and what hasn’t, simply because the stuff that was edited well is frankly and objectively better.  I guess some writers chafe at editorial and I have had moments of that, to be sure…but I also see, 95% of the time, the point that the editor is making.

But without the revisions, even the editor’s never going to see it.  Looking at this manuscript right now, there was and is so much to be done that I’d have been embarrassed to ship it.  I didn’t know it at the time I got the printout, but now I do.

Revise.  Edit.  Revise again…and then pull the trigger.  When?  I’m not sure yet, and I rarely am, other than just a sense of utter resistance and exhaustion to making any further changes. 

Revise – enter those changes…and then get it to the publisher.

As we say in the driving-of-fast-cars world: send it.