Revision, pouting, and shading

I like revising, so I find I don't need a lot of tricks or things to get myself in the revision mood. I just sit down to work. It makes me happy.

The thing I have discovered about my revision process is this: sometimes I need a draft or two to get used to the idea of big changes.

Recently I was working on revising the beginning of a book. I knew it didn't work. I KNEW it. The beginning made the structure wonky, the pacing weird, brought up things that were never mentioned again in the book . . . yeah. It didn't work. It had to change.

But let me tell you, I resisted. I revised those first few chapters over and over, determined to keep them because the setting/information/revelations were going to be important in the next book in the series. But what I SHOULD have been thinking about was what was important for THIS book.

After a couple friends said, "Jodi, this isn't working," and I slumped in my chair to pout for a few days, I finally accepted the idea of having to make a huge change.

I tried on several new beginnings to see how they looked, and to see whether I could find a way to include the same information that I'd thought was so important.

It turns out? Yes. All that was possible, even though the idea of such a big change after so much was written -- that was scary. My new beginning still required a few more drafts to fit juuuust right, because I'm a shader -- I shade in depth, worldbuilding, information, and all that good stuff in the revisions -- but in the end, I was much happier with the story. And the next person who read it? Had nothing to negative to say about the beginning.

--

Jodi Meadows is the author of INCARNATE, book one of the Newsoul Trilogy. (January 31, 2012 - HarperCollins/Katherine Tegen Books.)

She lives and writes in the Shenandoah Valley, Virginia, with her husband, a Kippy*, and an alarming number of ferrets. She is a confessed book addict, and has wanted to be a writer ever since she decided against becoming an astronaut. You can find her on her website and blog.

*A Kippy is a cat.

Revision Survival 101

Planning a trip to Revisionland? Or maybe you’ve taken a wrong turn on the road to publication, and found yourself wandering through its deserted wastelands and brain-sucking swamps. Either way, you don’t want to be caught ill-equipped. Revisionland is hazardous for even the most experienced writers, and careful preparation is crucial if you plan on making it out alive.

The US ARMY SURVIVAL MANUAL tells us we need to remember one word when faced with life-threatening situations, like those you most certainly will encounter in Revisionland.

SURVIVAL.

S – Size up the situation – Read through that revision letter more than once. Get a feel for it. Does it weigh more or less than two pounds? Can you stuff it under your clothes to protect yourself against the cold? Can it double as a seat on the hard ground? Enough paper will keep a fire going for hours. The uses for a good, solid revision letter are countless.

U – Use All Your Senses, Undue Haste Makes Waste – Smell burning? That’s your brain. Double vision? Back away from your monitor. Can’t feel your fingertips? You may be intoxicated. And remember, if you hurry through too fast, you’ll inevitably have to start over.

R – Remember Where You Are – One step at a time, that’s the way to slog through the overgrown swamplands of Revisionland. Don’t try to take on too much at once. Plot your course and stick to it. And if you fall into a hole, hold tight. Don’t panic. Scream loudly. Help is on the way.

V – Vanquish Fear and Panic – Scratch previous tip. Don’t scream. Find a tall stick. Remove clothing and attach to the end of said stick, then hoist it above ground. If no one comes within an hour, light it on fire. Rescuers will be drawn to the smoke. Remember: panic affects your ability to make smart decisions. Breathe, and form a plan.

I – Improvise – You wouldn’t be in Revisionland if you weren’t creative. Use the tools you have around you. You can make an explosive out of only a handful of common household items. If you get trapped, just blast your way out. Or turn someone into a vampire. Vampires can be very helpful (they have excellent night vision, amongst other skills).

V – Value Living – Whatever you do, do not give into the overwhelming, seemingly insurmountable peril of Revisionland. You think Frodo would have given up? Think he would have been swayed by the power of the ring? Not a chance.

A – Act Like the Natives – Think it’s best to lock yourself in a bunker with ten tons of Reece’s products and an IV of caffeine? Think again. The average American can live only 81 hours on caffeine and chocolate. And then they die.* Follow the lead of your fellow survivalists. Hunt substantive food. Locate a water source. Speak the common language. Observing the universal laws is the only way you’re going to make it out of Revisionland.

L – Learn Basic Skills – Be prepared before you enter Revisionland if at all possible. Create a map. Begin training for CPR and management of hyperventilation. Stockpile food that increases energy and endurance. Exercise. And remember, you’ve built a world out of nothing, you can survive Revisionland.


*Studies pending approval by IRB.

Kristen Simmons is the author of ARTICLE 5, the first installment of a dystopian trilogy, which will be published by Tor Teen in February 2012. Learn more about her at her here, at goodreads, or on facebook.

The Revision Cave

Don't ask me what the picture means. I just typed "give me a good picture" into Google and this is seriously the first thing that came up. :P

So I just finished my copy edits on book 1 of the Lotus War, and I'm back doing revisions on book 2, and according to Mr Sidebar, posts this week are supposed to be about revisions. Serendipity? Or did Future Heather Anastasiu travel back in time, visit herself three months ago and say “Jay will be just finishing his copy edits on 26 September and you can TOTALLY blow his tiny mind.”? 

I know what I’d like to believe. 

I tend to go back and revise as I write - I know this is a golden rule of the "DO NOT DO THIS" variety, but the obsessive compulsive in me can't leave a scene alone until it's at least semi-functional. As a result, my first drafts tend to be reasonably polished in terms of plot, and revising is more about achieving clarity and sharpening language.

First step: I go back and try to chop 10% of the word count. I go over every sentence and demand that every word explain why they shouldn't be cut from the team. Setting an arbitrary figure like 10% makes me ruthless, and if the figure is good enough for Stephen King, it's good enough for me.

Second step: Let my wife read it. She is like unholy lovechild of Ming the Merciless and the Evil Queen from Willow. She can spot Suck at fifty paces and has no qualms about lighting it up for the world to see. She's nice about it, but only sometimes. I'd rather not talk about the other times... excuse me, I have something in my eye...

(later) 

Third step: Enter the revision cave and remove the highlighted suck with pliers and a blowtorch.   

The revision cave is where I hopefully get some magic happening, and end up with something good enough to show to my agent. To enter the Revision cave and emerge alive, I require:
 

·       Stimulants. My poison of choice is Red Bull. I don’t drink coffee, never have, I know this makes me totally unhip and extremely unlikely to marry a Starbucks heiress, but it’s something we’re all going to have to live with. Moving on.

·       Absolute silence. We are talking perfect vacuum here. An ice-cold void. One in which the sound of a child practicing her clarinet five houses down sends me into outbursts of profanity so intense that they rip holes in the fabric of space/time.

·       A dog. A cat won't do - I put them in the same basket as coffee. The dog is there to make me feel less like a mad person. See, I spend a lot of revision time reading aloud to help get sentence flow working right. There’s nothing that will help me spot a rogue comma (fear them) stray adverbs (hate them) better than reading aloud. It's a matter of public record that talking to oneself is something a crazy person does. But talking to a dog? Even if it’s the same sentence 20 times? Perfectly sane, I assure you.

·       An awesome place to sit, because I’ll be doing a lot of it. I usually settle for the couch, but one day I hope to be rolling on something like this.

Jay Kristoff is the author of STORMDANCER, a dystopian fantasy set in steampunk feudal Japan, out in Spring 2012 through St Martin's Press & Tor UK.

You can watch him rant some more here and here.