The Dreaded Rewrite: Do it or Ditch it?

“Books aren’t written - they’re rewritten. Including your own. It is one of the hardest things to accept, especially after the seventh rewrite hasn’t quite done it”. - Michael Crichton

The dreaded rewrite is an epic task that every writer must face and to clarify, by rewrite I don’t mean extensive corrections or rigorous editing. I mean the process whereby a writer takes their beloved two hundred plus pages of blood, sweat and tears and pretty much pens the entire story from scratch. Rewriting is born of the assumption that the first draft will contain the authors uninhibited passion, with characters and plotlines having resulted from a spontaneous surge of creative energy, and that rewriting is necessary in order to demonstrate artistic control, whereby the author takes care of all those niggly technical details and contemplates the novel from the reader’s perspective. When rewriting my first (and only) novel, I did so with a brutality that boarded on sadistic, with many of my central characters ending up slain. By doing so the story that I wanted to present was tighter and more discernible. Or so I thought.

Almost a year ago I was of the belief that my completed novel was almost ready to hit the shelves. Then, at the last minute I succumbed to self-doubt and decided to hold off sending it to prospective agents. I instead submitted my novel to The Literary Agency (TLC) for a full Manuscript Assessment. Though confident that the novel that I had submitted presented my best efforts and a high standard of writing, I nevertheless experienced high anxiety at the prospect of having it read by an ‘expert,’ who in this case was a published author. A month after submission I received a full appraisal in the form of a twenty-page report. Beyond nervous I read through the report on tenterhooks, devouring each word, fraught with apprehension. When finished reading I found myself feeling dejected yet optimistic, rejected yet pumped and exhilarated, a real mixed bag of contradictory emotions. Overall I felt enthused to continue on. The report praised the descriptive elements of my novel, the character building, the language and depiction of true raw emotion. Where my novel was said to fall down, was in relation to the plot structure and that all important ‘narrative arc.’ Not that I agreed with everything contained in the report but I found that I had no choice but to observe aspects of the critique that were undisputable and thus exceedingly constructive in terms of my development as a writer. Ironically, many of the points made regarding plot, were ones that I had made myself on many occasions when critiquing the work of clients (in my capacity as a creative writing tutor). Yet, as is often the case, I remained blind to the very same issues present within my own work. For instance, I was so familiar and close to my characters and so believed their stories, that I had neglected to consider how they presented in a storytelling context and how they worked to create narrative tension. This meant that whilst the plot as a whole contained instances of tension and conflict, there was no discernible link between those instances and the actions and motivations of the characters.

The report concluded with the suggestion that I rewrite the whole novel, focussing on increasing conflict throughout. It was also suggested that I refocus certain aspects of the plot so that the novel would fit into the ‘crime fiction’ genre, as it was thought that my novel would do well if categorised as such. Receiving such detailed feedback on my work provided me with a wealth of invaluable insights, and yet the thought of rewriting a novel that I had already rewritten at least three times was exceedingly daunting, especially if considering that a full rewrite would take at least a year.

“When your story is ready for rewrite, cut it to the bone. Get rid of every ounce of excess fat. This is going to hurt; revising a story down to the bare essentials is always a little like murdering children, but it must be done.” - Stephen King

With the words of the good and the great motivating me towards the end goal, I sat at my laptop, rearing to go. Truth be told, I initially found it difficult to muster the energy to begin writing a book that I originally began writing in 2012. The task of beginning again was arduous to say the least but I made an impressive start. Then I stopped. Then I started again and stopped again. Then I began to wonder whether this book was really the be-all-and-end all. I began to question my commitment to it and puzzled over exactly why it was that I hadn’t been able to work on anything else other than this novel for so long. Was it that, when employing as much objectivity as I could in judgement of my own work, my novel depicted such a powerful story that it had to be told? Or was my first novel a safety net, something that I was now addicted to? Was I in fact holding onto it because I had developed an emotional bond with my characters and their stories that I was loathed to relinquish. This line of thought brought me back to a week that I spent at Arvon almost three years ago. In 2014 I attended a residential writing course delivered by the Arvon Foundation, where my peers and I were fortunate enough to receive feedback on our work from two professional authors. During one of the question and answer sessions I asked Naomi Wood, author of the The Godless Boys and Mrs Hemingway, what a writer should do if they submitted their novel to multiple agents and were rejected at every turn. Naomi Wood offered a response that made me distinctly uncomfortable. She said that sometimes it was necessary to persevere but on other occasions it was important for an author to consider whether their first novel was simply a stepping stone into serious writing, in which case the better option would be to set it aside and commit to writing something else. “Just keep writing,” is what she advised. I did not like that answer. At that time, I craved a very specific response, one that would accord with the over told, inspirational story of JK Rowling’s journey into writing, which included the famous book Harry Potter being rejected by numerous agents. I was not ready to hear anyone suggest that perhaps my novel, the love of my life, was simply a route to something more significant, a way of ‘cutting my teeth.’

I have now begun to see the gems of wisdom in the advice offered by Naomi Wood. After all, writers write and part of writing must entail periodically generating new ideas, which in turn generate new and original prose. My commitment to one piece of work had caused a type of stagnation in terms of my ability to generate new ideas and develop those ideas into something more tangible. For instance, over the past five years I had found myself generating dozens of new plot ideas, even writing a couple of chapters here and there but inevitable my attention would revert back to the novel that I had completed.

I decided that something had to give and made the emotionally excruciating decision to put my first novel aside. In doing so I gave myself permission to say good bye and to mourn all the hard work that had gone into it. To my astonishment, once I did this, a couple of significant things happened. First and foremost, I realised that I had become so seduced by “what it meant to have my novel professionally appraised,” that I had taken for granted the subjective nature of opinion and taste when applied to literature. I realised that whilst I had gained invaluable advice, I did not want to implement some of the more fundamental changes suggested by the professional reader. I suddenly felt confident in my assertion that whilst the novel did need to undergo another rewrite, there were certain aspects that I was unprepared to change. As such, I decided to place my novel on the shelf until I was in a position to rewrite it in accordance with my own vision. In the meantime I had to write something, and write I did.

Whereas previously I had been unable to move beyond the first chapter of a new story I suddenly found myself completely in the zone, easily writing in excess of a thousand words a day. Which is where I am now. Four weeks on and I am eleven chapters and twenty-five thousand words into the first draft of my new novel. Each day I feel driven and motivated to continue and, whilst every now and then a nugget of doubt creeps in, pulling me back to my first novel, I am one hundred percent sure that my attention belongs where it is. In his book On Writing, Stephen King states his belief that a first draft should take no longer than three months to complete. So, April 2017, here I come.

In conclusion, when considering the question of whether to complete that arduous rewrite or put your first novel aside and commit to something new, the answer will be different for everyone. What I would say, is that sometimes taking a step back and making difficult decisions is a necessary part of being a writer. We should also remember that putting a novel down does not mean that we have to forget about that book forever. There are many examples of authors returning to novels that were left half-finished decades previously, which then go on to become bestsellers. Often it is simply a matter of timing.

Please feel free to leave comments and share any experiences that you have in relation to rewriting your first novel.

Written by Michelle Shakespeare @ Ready2Write.co.uk

A Question of Genre - What is Literary Fiction?

Recently I read an article where a literary editor posed the question “is literary fiction dead?” In the article the author argued that contemporary “genre specific fiction” was dominating the market, with literary fiction becoming increasingly niche. So much so that the relevance of literary fiction in a wider context needed to be reevaluated. This interested me, from the perspective of both a book enthusiast and a writer who has previously struggled with grasping the meaning of genre as it relates to my work. Reading between the lines I concluded that the editor was in essence, suggesting that literary, or in other words well written fiction, was on its way out. I found the notion that literary fiction as a genre might be suffering quite perplexing, as for many years I’d felt compelled to place the novel that I was working on in the literary fiction category. Yet, at the time I could not articulate exactly why I felt that my novel should be considered “literary.” I have come to suspect that it had much to do with the prestige that this particular genre inferred.  Thus, I was somewhat bemused when a portion of my book was read by a published author who whilst praising my writing style casually commented that he saw the novel commercial, albeit with a “literary edge”.  This threw me a little, and whilst I eventually came to embrace the idea of my novel being deemed commercial I initially couldn’t help but wonder whether my book was more basic and less deep than I had hoped.

That I experienced such ambiguous feelings relating to where my novel, when published, would sit in the market, suggested to me that perhaps I had unwittingly developed what I have come to refer to as literary snobbery. A phrase that came to me eight years earlier when reading a degree in English and Creative Writing. Back then, as now, my reading was varied and my assumption was that anyone who loved literature would expose themselves to a wide range of genres. As if purposely setting out to prove my assumption wrong, my then Creative Writing tutor, in response to my enthusiasm for Stephen King’s earlier works, stated that he had never read a Stephen King novel. In response, and oblivious to my tutor’s slightly pompous tone, I exclaimed “really, well you should give Misery a try, it’s brilliant.” He smiled thinly and commented that he “couldn’t envisage himself ever reading Stephen King.” In the first instance, and due in part to naivety on my part, the inference that King’s work represented commercial, distinctly un-literary clap trap was totally lost on me and I reasoned that my tutor simply had an extensive reading list, one that did not feature King. It wasn’t long before I realised that my tutor had decided that he only had time to read real literature. My tutor had formed an opinion on books he had never read, based solely on preconceived ideas pertaining to the merits of commercial fiction. But then, by insisting that my writing be consider literary I was, in effect, subscribing to a notion not dissimilar to my tutor’s, one that placed literature in hierarchical form, with commercial novels residing far below those highly prized, award winning, literary gems. Now, I’m not suggesting that someone who has never read King or who does not like King’s work, are missing out on anything. There are many bestselling authors whose popularity I really don’t get, and then there are certain novels, like Fifty Shades of Grey, that I have felt justified in dismissing completely.

To this end, whilst it maybe misguided to dismiss a whole genre of writing, thereby subscribing to a type of literary elitism, surely everyone one would agree that there is such a thing as good and bad writing. Or is there? For me, Stephen King’s Pet Sematary and Cormac McCarthy's Road are both classics and reflect good writing because, regardless of their theme, genre, and so on, the plots are well developed, the description and dialogue original and the execution meets literary standards. Unlike Fifty Shades of Grey, which although one of the world’s biggest selling novels, contains numerous spelling and grammatical errors, the description and dialogue are basic and clichéd and the plot predictable. All in all this particular novel, which I gave up after the first two chapters, reflects bad writing and therefore could never be described as the least bit literary. Hmmm… there I go again injecting my old nemesis, the literary snob, into my considerations, passing judgement on a novel that I failed to complete. And anyway, is the term "literary" really another way of describing good and bad writing? Thereby suggesting that there are certain literary standards in place that work to determing which books make the grade? To answer this question perhaps we need to take a moment to clearly define what is meant by literary fiction? Goodreads.com describes literary fiction as follows: 

Literary fiction is a term that has come into common usage in the early 1960s. The term is principally used to distinguish "serious fiction" which is a work that claims to hold literary merit, in comparison from genre fiction and popular fiction.

With the above definition in mind, novels that can be described as literary fiction are obvious and must surely include works such as: Alice Walker’s Colour Purple, Toni Morrison’s Beloved, Zadie Smith’s White Teeth, Frank McCourt’s Angela’s Ashes, Sarah Water’s Fingersmith, Jean Rhy’s Wide Sargasso Sea, Rani Manicka’s Rice Mother, and of course all the Brontè, Dickens and Victorian classics, to name but a few. For me, when considering the above titles, what they all have in common is there timelessness. These are serious novels that transcend time, place and to an extent culture by exploring universal themes and also present the reader with an emotional and intellectual challenge. Interestingly, when I searched the net for novels that fell into the literary fiction genre none of the books that I had considered so highly were present (or even nearly present) and the majority of those favoured were one’s that I had either never heard of or immediately decided ‘were not my thing.’ It would seem then, that no matter how hard I try to accurately define literary fiction as a genre, when seeking to the identify serious novels that may fall into such a category, we continuously revert back to what can only be described as a matter of an opinion.

Ironically, this brings back memories of a piece I wrote for my end of year English Language project. I submitted a short story which my then tutor, the lovely Mrs Ball, allocated a grade A, describing it as an excellent example of original and compelling fiction. The person charged with marking the piece saw things differently and allocated it a Grade C, stating that whilst she could see what I was attempting to achieve, I was being too cleaver for my own good and thus hadn’t achieved it. Outraged, Mrs Ball insisted that I resubmit the piece and, low and behold a different marker agreed with my tutor and it was allocated a final grade A. That experience suggested to me that literature, like food, is good or bad dependent wholly on the palette of the person tasting it.

Surely, by accepting that literary fiction is simply a genre, one that does not connote the value of a piece, meaning that the term literary and serious/good are not mutually exclusive, the task of categorisation will prove much easier. It could also mean that the editor was correct and literary fiction is indeed dead, not due to a drop in standards of writing but due to the world producing less and less literary snobs. In conclusion, I remain unconvinced that literary fiction as a genre is real and alive in ways that do not promote it as superior to other genres. On the other hand, if we are to preserve the very best literature for generations to come, then perhaps a certain hierarchy is needed. Would Hard Times or Wuthering Heights have survived without the great English cannon. Or does the great English cannon mean that certain books were lorded whilst others, which maybe have been just as worthy, fell by the wayside, deemed forever too commercial to make the grade? So, what do you think of the term literary fiction, and what does the genre represent for you?

Written by Michelle Shakespeare @ Ready2Write.co.uk

Ready2Write.Co.Uk

Morning Pages

I was first introduced to the concept of Morning Pages when the book The Artist’s Way, by Julia Cameron was recommended to me by a creative writing tutor. In The Artist’s Way Julia Cameron insists that writing Morning Pages should form an integral part of the artist’s daily routine. So what you may ask, are Morning Pages? According to Cameron “Morning Pages do get us to the other side: the other side of our fear, of our negativity, of our moods.” Essentially Cameron asserts that the process of writing three pages in stream of consciousness, uninhibited and free to release all our inner most fears and feelings, including venting about the fight we had with our partner the evening before or lamenting about how the new boss hates us, should prove cathartic, leaving the artist unburdened and no longer distracted by the complexities of daily life.

Inspired by Cameron’s uncompromising belief in the usefulness of Morning Pages I embraced the concept and, for a month at least, committed to the task. I initially found writing every morning daunting, and rather than write freely I felt compelled to place my experiences, thoughts and feelings into context. However, determined to follow Cameron’s instructions to the letter I overcame the temptation to over think what I was writing and simply wrote what came to mind. Once finished I would immediately feel better and the very process of putting my inner most feelings down on paper seemed to expel some of the toxic, ego based emotions that had dominated my conscious and unconscious thoughts for weeks previous.

Soon after beginning to write Morning Pages I experienced several revelations relating to my writing. These insights enabled me to truly understand some of the issues that had forced me into a place of artistic stagnation. Just as Morning Pages had helped me to flush out feelings relating to my personal life, I felt able to work through some specific problems that were blocking the development of the novel that I was working on. Admittedly, my commitment to Morning Pages did not last long and I soon found that I could not (or was unwilling to) fit it into my day. A poor excuse I know and even now I tell myself that it would be no great feat to wake up half an hour earlier or possibly, despite Cameron’s stance that Morning Pages be written in the morning, write my Morning Pages in the afternoon when I have a bit of spare time.

That said and whilst I would encourage all artists to give Morning Pages a go, I do not feel that my writing has suffered as a result of abandoning the ritual. To the contrary, my writing, especially the novel that I am working on, has gone from strength to strength. I think that this is due in part to the fact that since reading The Artist’s Way I have connected with fellow writers with whom I can share experiences and setbacks, and I continue to draw inspiration from successful authors and writing enthusiasts.

Ultimately, I have arrived at the conclusion that books like The Artist’s Way and tasks like Morning Pages, may prove useful to artists in terms of motivation and encouraging a sense of discipline. However, whilst a variety of techniques can be used to assist the writer, no technique can substitute that which reflects the one and only route to publication, write write write!

Written by Michelle Shakespeare @ www.ready2write.co.uk

The Daily 'Slog' of Writing

How do you combine the day job, which for most of us is necessary, with writing, then perfecting, then reading and lastly rewriting and rewriting again that first novel? According to Brenda Ueland author of If you Want to Write, writers are out of all the artsy types the laziest. Ueland doesn’t state this in order to denigrate the efforts of the would be writer but simply points out that often writers, prior to publication, do not always dedicate themselves to the countless hours of honing their craft that others do to realising their dream. 

“Of course, in fairness, I must remind you of this: we writers are the most lily-livered of all craftsmen. We expect more, for the most peewee efforts, than any other people.  A gifted young woman writes a poem. It is rejected. She does not write another perhaps for two years, perhaps all her life. Think of the patience and love that a tap-dancer or vaudeville acrobat puts into his work. Think of how many times Kreisler has practiced trills." -Ueland, If You Want to Write.

And surely it is true. Most would be writers, myself definitely included, do not commit fully to the gruelling, sometimes downright boring, routine of putting pen to paper. Professional singers, actors and other professionals such as tennis players, gymnasts etc, fit their life around their passion. What they are determined to achieve often comes first, despite any personal ramifications. Meanwhile us writers often go to work, raise kids, spend time with family, contemplate our futures, dine out, meet with friends and at some point perhaps fit a bit of writing in at the beginning or end of the day. 

Shamefully, head bowed and eyes to the ground I must admit that I have in the past gone weeks without writing a single word; after which I was plagued with guilt and sense of having failed myself. In saying this I must offer a defence, no matter how paltry. Truth be told the writer is a lonely, neglected soul, who unlike the singer, actor, tennis player or gymnast often cannot afford to pay coaches to help provide daily motivation and practical advice. The writer must delve into the deepest reassess of their consciousness in order to access that internal magic and bring it to the page. We have little opportunity to feed of the natural adrenaline that results from participating in competitive sports or the satisfaction to be derived from listening to the applause of an appreciative audience. The writer must plough ahead and rely almost solely on self-motivation and self-discipline. Nevertheless, no one said that working towards publication was easy and thus the daily slog that is writing is a necessity and the alternative of not committing to a routine will almost always result in a dream unrealised.

So perhaps the answer is to acknowledge that whilst making time to write is difficult, the act of doing so should not be viewed as a burden. Despite the advice of many creative writing tutors I cannot write first thing in the morning but find that I am exceedingly productive during the day. Therefore I have found that by setting myself a realistic daily writing quota and sticking to it, I can choose when I write. I may write some of that quota during my lunch break and the rest after I’ve put my son to bed and as such exactly when I write has become secondary and how much I write has become the priority. Since I am currently rewriting my novel this translates to a reading quota, in that I must read a certain amount of pages a day and again this can be achieved by reading a page or two throughout the day. This approach would not suit everyone but I do firmly believe that a routine, even if it is one that is flexible in terms of times of day, must be committed to.

So writers, what works for you? How do you go about ensuring that you write and thereby elude the writer’s most omniscient nemesis, the dreaded Procrastinator. Or are you one who is yet to discover a way to commit to writing? Feel free to discuss, all comments are welcome.

“Writing a book is a horrible, exhausting struggle, like a long bout with some painful illness. One would never undertake such a thing if one were not driven on by some demon whom one can neither resist nor understand.”

― George Orwell

Written by Michelle Shakespeare @ www.ready2write.co.uk