REVISION — AN ESSAY ON ATTITUDE

by Beth Bernobich
(c) December 2000

Kiss me.

I've heard many writers claim they hated revision. After the white-fire bliss of raw creation, the act of revision appears too cold-blooded, too painful, too...boring. Sort of like watching last year's hot movie on a 13-inch TV screen, or so the comments go. Well, I disagree. Revision encompasses much more than revisiting the same old story line, tweaking a word here or there. Revision can be like second kisses, and those are not the least bit boring.

Nice. Very nice. Almost perfect. Could we try that again?

You just finished the perfect novel. You love it, your mother loves it, and even your trusted alpha reader has approved each section. You are luxuriating in the glow of white fire creation. (Or collapsed in relief if that last chapter proved difficult to write.) The last thing you want to think about is revision.

Take a breath. Congratulate yourself on finishing (because that is a fine accomplishment). That done, be honest. Did you tie up all the story threads neatly? Does the pacing ever falter? Did you make all the characters into vivid individuals who dance through the plot? Does the prose shine without fail?

I thought not. Granted, a few writers polish each sentence as they write. But even the most accomplished writers find that, after meditation, feedback, and the necessary ingredient of time, the story on paper doesn't gleam as brightly the story that lived inside their minds. So it comes to revision.

Of course I liked it. I just want to try something different. Close your eyes. Tilt your head this way.

You set the novel aside for a few weeks or months. You read through it with fresh eyes and find that your opening chapter needs work, or the middle chapters need tightening, or the ending doesn't quite ring true. Maybe the prose leaks black goo like a rotten potato. Maybe you discovered deeper flaws, such as weak or superficial characters. The most common problem is that, by writing the story, your ending diverges from the original plan, and it no longer matches the beginning.

You sigh, thinking that you are about to rewrite the same story. Think again.

At the very least, revision is our chance to fix the story's flaws. You liked the original version, think how much happier you'll be once you make those characters as vivid as you first imagined them.

Still not excited, huh. Picture that kiss, then. Same person, but different technique. Same person and technique but with the lights turned down. Revision can encompass just as much discovery as that original draft. What about all the details you missed the first time through, in that rush toward the end? Like a second kiss, revision gives us the opportunity to delve into our world, our characters, and our story deeper than before. We ask ourselves why Madame X frowned upon hearing the news from Captain Xavier, and we find a wealth of personal history we never suspected. We tweak the plot for pacing, and the novel's world opens up into new dimensions. We find depth, texture, complexity, and connections we never noticed that first hurried time through.

We are writing the same story, but we are also writing something new.

That was good. Very good. Now let's try one more thing. §