THE KITCHEN SINK, Or Second Drafts Redux

Writing a novel is like architecture, or perhaps like what I image it would be to sculpt. While I'm immersed in the work, I'm constantly shaping, scraping off edges, gluing on little bits, hammering and sawing. Last blog post was about cuts mainly, but second drafts are also the time to throw in the kitchen sink. Most of the time, things I add at this point are to improve pacing or character development. The additions I have made in this second draft increased the manuscript by eighteen pages, making it, at 527 pages, by far the longest novel I have ever written. But I'll bet some cuts are in store for the third draft.  

By the time I'm working with my second draft, I know my book pretty darned well--scene by scene, the descriptions, the dialogue, the tone. It's all up there in my brain, simmering. So after reading back over the book in its entirely, the second draft is time to simply think about the story, those scenes, the dialogue, the rooms the characters walk through, the garden where that important exchange takes place. Have I described the colors, the bric-a-brac, the smell of the air coming through the windows, the way the wind causes a curtain to billow, rays of sunlight through the trees? I like to hand out my descriptions in small, pointed doses, making sure that each line or phrase somehow furthers the tone of the scene, the development of the character, or the mood of the story. Does the floral tablecloth remind the main character of her grandmother's farmhouse when she was a child? Or does the ticking clock on the wall wither her already shattered nerves as she waits for the telephone to ring? There is probably room to grow most scenes by adding sensory detail. The second draft is when I do that.

Some of these things come naturally in the first draft. For seasoned writers, this is especially true. I don't consider myself to be THERE yet, so I have to constantly remind myself of these tricks, and of how crafting scene after scene gets me to the novel I am trying to write. My vision of my story is always more vivid than what makes it onto the page.

When I'm second-draft deep into a novel, my mind seems to automatically latch onto things I can use. Maybe it's something I overhear at the beauty shop, or maybe it's just the right name for that minor, but important, character I'm developing. In second draft mode, I'm on the lookout for exciting words I had forgotten about, and at the same time, giving a critical look at the words I already have down. Are there too many adverbs, what about adjectives? An overload of either of those weakens a sentence rather than improves it. Instead of "falling clumsily against the door" I will make her "stagger against the door." Better, more concise, choice.

The second draft is the time to make big important changes, too, if they're needed. In my fourth novel, I had gone through my first draft, and the story just didn't work. The pivotal scene was based loosely on a family incident, but it wasn't until I found the correct name for my main character that everything fell into place. Often the main characters needs the most sprucing up in the second draft. I don't want my main character to be two-dimensional; I want him to have flaws aplenty, and lots of room for improvement and growth and change. Getting my character just right often happens in my rewrites.

Oh, the joy of second drafts. And now it's almost time for me to begin the third draft. As I type this, I'm printing out the manuscript once again. Next week, I'm headed back to my coastal retreat, when I plan to read this behemoth yet again. I know it has improved in this second draft, but I also know it's not done yet. What a lot of work writing a novel always turns out to be! Seat of the pants to seat of the chair.

Onward...

THE TROUBLE WITH SECOND DRAFTS

Rewrites are a good thing. In general, a novel gets better with each rewrite. Often, I read a novel that I feel could have used just one more run-through. When I come upon a scene that’s just a bit implausible or some dialogue that doesn’t ring authentic, I think to myself that the writer would have benefitted with another draft.

There are decisions that get made in rewrites. Usually those involve cutting something, or re-arranging elements of the story: This thing needs to happen sooner, or that bit is just a little too long, or too cute, or maybe it’s too melodramatic. There can be any number of things “wrong” with a portion of a novel. The trouble is the fix.

I usually know on a gut-level when I’ve got a problem in a story. I don’t always have the solution when I start my second draft, but I’ve got those places that need extra work earmarked in my mind. Those trouble spots always slow down the second draft, sometimes considerably.

When I do my first read-through, I mark up my pages mercilessly. I have to have a hard copy to do this, so for me, writing a novel takes reams of paper and numerous ink cartridges. I've got to have those margins, to make my marks, and remarks, and notes to self. I’m like a teacher grading a paper.

Trouble comes with knowing when to cut and when to add. It’s easy to cut out things, and then later say, “I need that first bit back in here,” which is another argument for the must-have hard copy. You will still have hold of the part you cut out if you decide you need to add it back again.

On the computer I keep a desktop folder labeled “CUTS,” and when I'm ready to make changes after my pencil-edit, I save all the deleted scenes, interior monologues, and wordy descriptions into my “CUTS” folder. It’s easy to add them back this way, although frankly, once something gets the chop, I rarely paste it back into the story, at least not in its original form.

Another problem with rewrites is being too close to the story, not being able to ferret out the parts that aren’t working. This is why critique groups are sometimes helpful (although I’ll do another blog post on those at some point). Preferably an editor or an agent can help with this problem, but if you’re a beginning writer, you likely don’t have either one of those. At any rate, there comes a time when you need an outside reader, but just not yet. You need to do a couple more drafts first, unless you know someone you really trust, someone who can see the forest despite the trees. (And if you do know someone like that, lend them to me, please.) I have to get a novel as far as I can get it before I ask anyone for help. After all, nobody knows your story better than you do, and it’s important that you listen to yourself before you listen to someone else. You’ll get so you know when it’s the right time to share your baby.

After my third novel came out, I was asked to attend a reading club meeting of members who had all been assigned my book as their monthly novel. This was an excellent group of intelligent, thoughtful, articulate readers. Good discussion happened, and they weren’t the least intimidated by having “the author” sitting right there among them. It fascinated me to hear everyone’s opinion of my characters, their take on what the theme of the book was, on the story arc and on how they were affected by the ending. It was the last part of the discussion that was the biggest revelation to me. Out of the twenty or so people attending, only three felt the novel ended happily. And I was one of the three! Everyone else came away feeling it had a tragic ending. Oops!

I have always wished I’d taken aim at that ending just one more time. So the reader would come away with the feeling I had intended.

The current novel is halfway through its second draft. There are chapters that are already greatly improved, but there are some that still stump me. I find I have more research to do, even after all the research I have already done. I have a multitude of rough edges to file down. Once I’m finished with this rewrite, I will once again let the manuscript rest for a couple of weeks, before I start the process a third time.

Onward…