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Lessons from Retreat: 3 Words to Aid in Novel Revisions

file6481263252226Like most writers, I’ve dreamed of leaving my day job behind so I could just write. But, I have much to gain by showing up at the office.

In my job that pays the bills, I am a sign language interpreter. This means I turn spoken word into a visual message using my hands, facial expressions, and body language. Okay, there’s much more to it than that,* but we’re talking writing here. The reason I mention interpreting at all is that it not only requires I navigate two languages, but it forces me to be a visual person–a skill that can only enhance my storytelling, right?

Of course, the answer is yes…when I choose to use it.

At the Salt Cay Writers Retreat last October, I met with Michelle Brower from Folio Literary Management for my one-on-one. What I learned from her has been a driving force in my current novel revisions.

First, she pointed out that I am a comma addict, which didn’t surprise me, because I’m also a bit of a control freak, and I want the reader to pause, in the sentence, when I want. Throwing in an extra comma (or five) makes me feel as if I’m, in charge. Ah, a writer’s delusions. Good times.

Anyway, and more importantly, Michelle said three magic words during our conversation that made tackling this rewrite seem possible:

Write in scene.

Marathon projects, like writing a novel, overwhelm me, and Michelle caught on to me right away. She looked me straight in the eye and spoke those words to help not only strengthen my story but make the process manageable.

She pointed out one place in my manuscript where I short-changed the reader by writing a passage as a character’s recollection instead of an in-the-moment experience: 

Victor questioned Kate’s origins from the first time she walked into the Company Store, when Mrs. Kiersted sent her to buy the week’s groceries. Victor asked her straight out where she had come from, so she told him, Escanaba, which–because she took the long route from Sault Ste. Marie–wasn’t entirely a lie. Still, his eyes penetrated her that day, so that she almost blinked. He said no pretty woman arrives in a town like Fayette alone, not unless she hides something.

Then, she showed me sections where I wrote in scene with much more success, like this one:

Studying the rip in her apron as she walked across the back porch, she ran into a small girl no taller than the railing, who bounced backwards and threw her hands up to her mouth. In the girl’s eyes, Kate saw embarrassment, but more than that, mischief. Before Kate had a chance to say anything, an older girl appeared around the corner along with the woman from the ship.

“Ellen?” The woman called. Then, “Oh.” She held onto the arm of the older child and reached for Ellen.

Kate didn’t know if she should run or curtsy, apologize or simply give her name. She pressed her right hand against the tear in her apron and held out her left as she bent in an awkward bow. “You must be Mrs. Berry,” she said. She caught a glimpse of Mrs. Berry’s shoes before she stood tall again, a beautiful pair of boots whose shine couldn’t last a week during a heavy run of Fayette’s furnaces.

This idea sort of goes along with Show, don’t tell, but there’s more.

For me, “write in scene” sometimes means paying more attention to details. At other times, it means asking the right questions that reveal the best beginning and end of the scene and , as important if not more, the purpose of the scene.

Jordan E. Rosenfeld, in this article on Writers Digest, lists 10 tips for writing scenes. It’s a great article in general, but what I love most about it is the two questions Rosenfeld suggests writers should ask, questions I now display on my desktop whenever I open my draft:

1. Where are my characters in the plot? Where did I leave them and what are they doing now?

2. What is the most important piece of information that needs to be revealed in this scene?

Michelle’s feedback has helped me to keep at revisions, whereas before I sat around wondering how I would ever start, not to mention finish them. Jordenfeld’s questions take me one step further. I’m not thinking about how the scenes will tie together (not yet), I need only consider how to begin one scene, where that particular scene might end, and in what ways it moves the story forward.

Now, back to those revisions….

What do you consider when someone says, write in scene?

* If you want to know more about the complex art of interpreting, here’s an excellent article on Psychology Today, “Those Incredible Interpreters.” Thanks to Dot Hearn for linking to it on Facebook.

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Experience is an Action Word

In Christina Katz’s weekly e-zine, she continues her discussion on the 52 Qualities of Prosperous Writers.

This week’s quality is experience.

*****

Experience is an action word.

It’s a noun, yes. But, the word – and the meaning behind it – comes alive with action.

Last week, I experimented with a short story rewrite, deciding it not only needed a good trim but a rigorous reduction in extraneous verbiage.

I’ve rewritten passages before and added words here and there, but I’ve never attacked a whole story with the goal of cutting the word count in half. I needed help, so I turned to other writers. I posed a question here, and several people commented with great suggestions.

Over a course of several days, and several draft print-outs, I attempted to trim a 3500+ word story to just under 1200 words. Each time I considered a strikethrough, I leaned on the experience and words of those writers:

  • Cut the facts, keep the emotion.
  • Get rid of the passages that are better expressed elsewhere in the story.
  • Cut the beginning and introduce the conflict in the first sentence.
  • Take off the ending.
  • Follow your intuition.

The initial cuts were easy. I crossed out the ending without a problem, and I condensed the beginning two paragraphs into one concise sentence. My pen danced through unnecessary adjectives and random details. But after the third pass through the story, I still had well over 200 words left to cut.

Talk about killing your darlings…It pained me to think of losing even one more word, let alone a few hundred. Then, I read Jordan Rosenfeld’s recent post, at Make a Scene, about deep-cut revising, and trusted her when she said weeks later I wouldn’t even notice what I bumped from the story.

So, I cut whole scenes, gave one character the boot, and said farewell to descriptions that no reader would love as much as I loved them.

As I got closer to 1200 words, the skeleton of a story that remained read so choppy that I wondered if I cut too much. But, I weaved the story back together with careful precision – into a sensible plot – and ended just under the 1200 bar. I then sent the “new” story off to a few writing friends to see if it held together well. Comments were positive, and I was able to work in a few more suggested changes while staying under my word limit.

The experience I gained through this experiment was invaluable. I learned several things about my writing – I write on and on sometimes and plenty of what I say can be cut without losing the premise of a story.

This rewrite experiment also taught me that, while writing is a solitary act, I rarely do it alone. I ask around when I’m not sure how to begin a story or edit a story or end a story. And in listening to other writers’ suggestions – and their experience – I find the courage to attempt new writing challenges myself.

Then, I celebrate my success when the story I just slashed still reads like a story and not like a ticker tape.

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