Repairing the damage
Last week I talked about discovering that the book I had
been working on for months was unacceptable, both to the friend I asked to read
the first few chapters, and to me. This week I will talk about my approach to
repairing the damage.
The first step to repairing a broken book is to acknowledge
that it isn’t working. Whatever fantasy you had about how wonderful the idea
was, it hasn’t translated to the page.
The second step? Decide whether you are going to fix it or
junk it. I was tempted to do the latter. I had worked diligently for months.
Did I really want to start at the beginning? I had 100,00 words. Were any of
the sentences, scenes, and chapters worth saving? Were any of the characters
interesting enough to work with? I decided that the answer to these questions
was yes. There were two characters
that every time they showed up, I perked up. And there was something that still
intrigued me about the plot. So the decision was that I thought there was
enough to the story to tackle a major rewrite.
The third step was to analyze where I ran off the rails. In
previous books when I realized that things weren’t going well, I could usually
find a scene that wasn’t true to the story. But in this case it was something different—I
started the story too late. Usually a story that doesn’t work has too much
lead-in in the beginning. What I realized was that I in my zeal to avoid that
error, I had robbed it of suspense. I thought about why some scenes came alive
while others just lay there and I realized that I didn’t know enough about the
villain.
Finally I started replotting. I thought carefully about not
only what the antagonist was up to, but how he had approached his villainy. I
realized the protagonist was reactive rather than proactive—and thought about how
to change that. I constructed a new timeline a timeline. And rewrote it. And
rewrote it again. And with all that, something started to emerge that excited
me.
I copied the whole manuscript and then started stripping out
whole chapters and rearranging others—bringing some from the end to the
beginning. And something magical happened. The characters started to speak up
and take their place as if now they had a place in the book. And by some miracle,
I realized that there were whole chunks of the book that actually worked.
I’m now feeling something I haven’t felt for a while. I want
the world to go away so that I can get the book rewritten. I feel rejuvenated
and excited.
I Like what is
happening. In the end, I don’t mind so much if no one else likes the book—but I
have to like it. I have to hand over a book that satisfies me. And I think I’m
getting there.
2 comments:
Thanks for sharing your process of this rewrite. It's very helpful. I'll look forward to reading the finished book, as I look forward to all of your books.
As you know, I had to throw away a huge chunk of what ultimately became Love and Death in Burgundy, re-imagine the story, and write lots of it again. But if a writer has the stamina and really believes in the characters and the story, somehow the will to do that wins! Good luck.
Post a Comment