What You Thought You Wrote

In a recent workshop I attended with Sara Grant and Karen Ball called “Ruthless Revision.” Sara said these wise words: You read the book you think you wrote.

If you’ve had a single person unfamiliar with your WIP read it, you probably already know this. You give it to them, excited for their response, and they like it but have questions. Then they ask you things that make you instantly, hopefully only internally, defensive. Your reader doesn’t know what genre you’ve written. They’re uncertain of the setting or the protagonist. They can’t see what you see when you reread your opening for the fifty-fifth time because what you ‘see’ isn’t actually present in the text.

A number of people at the workshop asked how one finds these things in our novels. How do spot these flaws? How do we fix them? There was some quiet bemoaning of the effort involved to perform many of the fine, though labor intensive if carried out over hundreds of pages, suggestions Sara gave our group. To me though, if you’ve spent the time and the brain juice on 60,000 words, why not spend some more on making those words good? The answer of course is usually because we’re scared. If you start going through with a fine-toothed comb, you’ll soon find the whole thing was a house cards from the start and your impostor syndrome fears will all turn out to be true.

Another answer is sometimes that we are too smug. Oh come on, you’ve been smug about something at least once in your life! Sometimes we just think that our story or characters are so good that people won’t care if they words are tight and glowing. Because that happens, to be sure. But it doesn’t happen often and, be honest, what are the odds it’s going to happen to you?

So we have to do the work. We have to examine our chapters, plot points, character motivations, world building, and pacing. One short cut for finding where your writing is weakest is to share it. Wait? Did I just suggest exposing oneself to criticism? Yes. I did. Of all the exercises we conducted at the workshop, the most helpful one was having feedback from two strangers on the first three pages of my current WIP. The questions they had told me everything about what was missing – what was not present in the text for a reader to experience the book I think I wrote. It was not fun. Going back to the opening of a book I’d tucked away a month ago thinking that, as first drafts go, this one wasn’t total shit. But once I started, it was electrifying! And now, well, I feel a little smug if I’m honest.* My opening is pretty cracking!**

If you’re still reading and don’t believe me, find me on twitter and message me. I’ll read your first five pages and I’ll answer five questions about your MS. For *cough* free *cough*. Offer expires on August 17th and I make zero promises on how quickly I’ll get back to you – but I will get back to you.

*all smugness left me five minutes later, but it was nice while it lasted.

** is it? i’m not sure now!

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