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...