Revision, and Revision, and Revision by Susan Arscott

Excuse me Will, but I’ve got my own spin on this soliloquy

A Shameless Rewrite

Revision, and revision, and revision,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of my YA novel;
And all my earlier work has lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, bad sentence!
A writer’s but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his angst upon the page,
And then is read no more. It is a tale
Writ by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.


With apologies to Shakespeare for my bastardization of Macbeth’s haunting soliloquy (only Shakespeare could make repetition sound so gorgeous) as a way to express most writers’ gloomy attitude as they begin their revisions. Even those of us who feel energized by revision (I include myself in this disgustingly cheerful bunch) can’t help but sigh at the amount of work they must do as they start on page 1 of their 300-page manuscript.

However, it is only through revision that we can make our writing shine. I wish I could compose an amazing piece of fiction first draft, but I can’t. If you are one of those, please know that I hate you and want to knock you severely about the head and shoulders, because I, unfortunately, am not that talented.

You wrote that in one sitting? Take that, you show off.

And because of my lack of initial brilliance, I have become quite the master of revision, hence this post. If you, like me, dump everything into your first draft then you, too, must revise. The key to this process (described below) is to separate yourself from your manuscript; doing so allows you to return to it with fresh eyes and new ideas on how to improve.

When I finished my first draft of The End of Normal, formerly known as The Threshing (I know, awful right?), I set it aside for a bit in order to let it stew, and perhaps for me to get stewed a time or two. Anyway, after giving both my manuscript and myself a breather, I began rereading and revising with the help of my MFA mentors. I rinsed and repeated this step until I thought it was ready for an opinion outside of my MFA program. I gave my manuscript to a couple of friends, and yes, a couple of relatives (believe me when I tell you that my mother hated it and didn’t even try to lie) with instructions to be honest, which they were, bordering on the precipice of brutality. After getting back their comments, I made changes and foolishly thought, “Eureka, I’m ready to submit this sucker.”

I was wrong. I sent it to three agents I met at a conference. One immediately shot me down. The other two actually spent the time to send me lengthy emails about the problems with my manuscript. At that point (end of January 2013) I sent my book to an editor for a professional edit and critique. Good ones are expensive, but they are worth it. Professional editors help you pinpoint the problems so you can either once again revise or toss the whole thing out and start on something new.

The person editing my book wasn’t in love with my story and didn’t encourage me to submit it to anyone; she was more into NA romance than my upper middle grade science adventure. Despite her lack of enthusiasm, she pointed out numerous really dumb things I’d done and helped me come up with ideas to fix them. To give you an idea of how much my first draft changed to the final, I’ve got the first part of both for your edification, or more likely, your little bit of daily humor.

First revision of the first paragraphs of The Threshing:

Sitting under the jagged ruins of what once was a concrete overpass in one of the largest cities in the world, I look at the others slumped against curved concrete walls, together yet apart. It’s odd that we still find comfort being together. I guess it’s a human thing. But even though we come together at night, we remain strangers. We share space in concrete cave but nothing of ourselves. It’s easier.

As I look at the others’ faces crusted with layers of dirt and grime, I wonder if they, like me, long to be back in our old world. To be back to the way things were before the Threshing. Our strange alien masters tell us we are the chosen, we few remaining ones who have survived but I wonder if the truly fortunate were those who died quickly at the beginning, before discovering real pain and suffering. I think -- no, I know those who did not survive the first onslaught were far luckier than those of us stuck here in this living nightmare.

Dark, depressing, and not well received. After many revisions (I can’t even begin to tell you how many), this is what will be published in June.

The End of Normal (Note the new title)
Part One: The Gloaming (the editor suggested dividing into parts, which I’ve done)
 
One

On the last morning of normal, I wish I could say I did something important, something that mattered, something noble even, but I can’t. No, instead of performing some major act of amazing, I wasted an entire hour pulling on and tugging off jeans, shirts, and sweaters, searching for that one combination that would make me look incredible.

Why was I so reckless with my time that morning? Because it was the day I had decided Sawyer Rising–hottest guy in school, goalie extraordinaire, and so gorgeous, just a hint of his crooked smile made me weak—was not only going to notice me, he was going to talk to me.

For forever I’ll regret my obliviousness to what was really important. Sadly, there’s nothing I can do about it now. Absolutely nothing.

Instead of weaving back and forth like the earlier version, this starts on the morning before their lives change, allowing the reader to meet the characters in their original world. Although I really liked my gloomy apocalyptic stuff, my many revisions and reader comments forced me realize that it didn’t do my book any favors, which is another lesson all writers must learn, which is to bravely kill off all of our darlings.

As a treat for those of you still with me, I’ve included a link to Patrick Stewart reciting Macbeth’s soliloquy. It’s beautiful and I hope you’ll take the time to enjoy it. Every day should have a little Shakespeare in it.

http://youtu.be/HZnaXDRwu84

After receiving a BA in international business and French history, Susan lived in Yokohama, Japan, with her husband Mike while he served in the U.S. Marine Corps. When they returned to the States, she taught at a Catholic Girls High School until she thought her head would explode from all the things she learned from her students. She then worked as a community college fundraiser and became an active board member, officer, and president of the national organization, Council for Resource Development (CRD), a nonprofit institution serving the 1,655 community colleges in the U.S.; she also was a member of the board for the American Association of Community Colleges.

In the fall of 2010, Susan decided to pursue her love of writing and enrolled in Spalding University’s MFA program in Louisville, Kentucky, under the direction of one of her favorite authors, Sena Jeter Naslund. At Spalding, Susan discovered her love of Middle Grade and Young Adult fiction, completing her first YA novel, The End of Normal, for her graduate thesis. Susan also has two books in progress; their working titles are Spillover and Entranced.

She is a member of SCBWI (Society of Children’s Book Writers and Illustrators), Broad Writer’s (the society to promote and support science fiction, fantasy, and horror written by women), and the Writers’ League of Texas. Susan lives in Seabrook, Texas, with her husband, two children, a deaf dog Chester (who does not know sign language), and Vladimir the cat.