Construction site revision

.

Years ago, I came upon a slender little book titled My Editor, by M.B. Goffstein. It's a poem of few lines, with simple, geometric illustrations, describing the process of working with an editor on revision.

I loved it so much I bought three, thinking of people I knew who might love it too. Now I only have one.

I've been thinking of it a lot, of late, going though the revision of The Next Novel, working with The Taskmaster (editor). The poem evokes the rewriting process as a construction site:

I begin to dig again, and lose myself in the excavation. 

Of course the new creation isn't quite right at first, and his editor sends him back to revise.

... my building worries me. It's stone cold, and I cry, "Why not have left it wobbly?"

There is a feeling of integrity in the early drafts that is initially lost in revising, until, with time, a new integrity emerges.

Take it apart, and suddenly see how it goes. 

This book is a treasure, and greatly heartening.



*****
Website: http://www.sandragulland.com/
Blog: http://sandragulland.blogspot.com/
Facebook: http://bit.ly/sgullandFacebook
Twitter: http://twitter.com/Sandra_Gulland
Tumblr: http://sandragulland.tumblr.com/

A Revision Rule-of-Thumb

.
In A Writer's Time (a book I recommend), the author Kenneth Atchity describes the state called End Time, when the work at hand is approaching finish. He says:

"End Time is characterized by high energy flow and pressure to finish. ... Think of the slow-moving horse, after an exhausting day in the field, who hears the whistle and gallops at high speed for the barn. ... Lock yourself up if necessary, turn off the phone, leave home, anything to allow End Time its way once you're sure its way can lead to the end."

The Taskmaster (the editor I'm working with now) is cleverly feeding me only three or four chapters at a time to revise. Each section must be right before we move on. With each chunk, I go through all the phases of completing an entire novel, including the exhaustion of End Time.

It's a technique I recommend.

Key to The Taskmaster's technique, as well, is to ask for a slow-motion rewriting of the opening chapters: set the scene, properly introduce the characters, the themes.

In practical terms, for me, it has meant doubling the first 40 or so pages of my manuscript, and doing the same again for the opening of Part Two, where there is huge leap in time and place.

I'd venture to guess that it could be a revision rule-of-thumb: double the first 80 pages of your second draft.

Today I'm in post-End-Time euphoria, the glow that comes with the magical words, The End.

For now ....

Beginning, again and again

.
.
Editor Dan, who I will now refer to as The Taskmaster, is taking me through the manuscript revision slowly. The first 40 pages became 100. Now I've only 20 pages to work on—the first chapters of Part II—but it feels like looking up at Mount Everest.

I keep thinking: non-fiction would be so much easier. Easier to describe the dead than to try to bring them back to life.

Once again, I'm somewhat at a loss where to begin, how to begin. One consolation of experience is that I know that once I do, I will feel much more at ease.

Temptation: coffee.  I must resist (I've given up caffeine); I'll console myself with breakfast popcorn, the perfect anxiety snack. 

First reader and other fears

.

.

The second draft of The Next Novel is being read right now by Dan Smetanka, a wonderful free lance editor in L.A. Am I nervous? You bet! This is its first public airing. In preparation for the next revision — the third draft — I'm rereading it myself. I've been dreading doing this, but now that I'm a good 100 pages in, I feel more at ease.

Not that there aren't problems, both big and small. I've a lot of work ahead. I marvel at the writers who are able to create a coherent novel in a year or two.

The small problems are almost amusing. Who was the author who advised his daughter, also a writer, to "always make sure that the moon is in the right place"? This is basically saying: attend to the details. I had to laugh: one scene opens in spring and in the course of a few hours moves into fall and then winter. It's a good thing Dan has a sense of humor.

Tour notes

.
.
I've more-or-less unpacked. I've stacks of papers and books everywhere, thoughts scattered. Before I move on, I want to note down some memorable moments from my tour. There were so many.

Diane, my wonderful escort in Chicago, had previously owned a bookstore out west, not long before. She loved the Josephine B. Trilogy and had hand-sold lots. She told me how furious customers could get if the 2nd or 3rd in the Trilogy was not in stock. She and her staff came to call any frustrated customer response "that Josephine B. look." (I love this.)

(An aside: Diane and one of the bookstore owners got into an interesting discussion on the differences between male and female book-buyers. Men, in general: don't browse, need lots of space, don't like being crowded, buy non-fiction, don't discuss a book with staff or other customers, buy greeting cards in 15 seconds, while women will linger over the cards for some time. It was this last I found most amusing. I can't imagine buying a greeting card without reading nearly every one on the rack, but I'd never imagined that I was hard-wired to do so.)

One of the most moving things about publishing is when other artists are inspired to create something of their own in response to a work. I've mentioned earlier in this blog meeting Rachel Maes, who wrote "To Destiny," an 8-page epic poem inspired by the Josephine B. Trilogy. In St. Louis I met the director, Janet Park Datema, and dancer, Beckah Voigt, of the one-woman dance performance inspired by the Trilogy and performed in St. Louis in the fall of 2004.

Beckah, Head of Dance Program at Webster University, also does "energy work" — and treated me to an astonishing session. She knew nothing of Mistress of the Sun, yet during the session had a strong image of a flying white horse (which tells me that Diablo is still very much with me).

I loved meeting other authors while on tour. In West Chester, PA, I met Susan Holloway Scott, author of Royal Harlot, Duchess, and coming soon, The King's Favorite, about Nell Gwyn. In a Borders event in Wilmette, IL, I met Aimée Laberge, Canadian author of Where the River Narrows. I had blurbed this wonderful historical novel, so it was a pleasure to meet Aimée. We had previously met, but only briefly, at a Writers' Union AGM in Montreal. At another Borders event in Birmingham, MI, I met aspiring writer Karen Batchelor, a life coach who wants to write about her slave ancestors, and Philine Tucker, an award-winning romance writer who is now turning to historical fiction.

In California, I began seeing family at events. At Borders in Thousand Oaks, just north of LA, my sister Robin and her fiance Betsy (partners for decades and soon to be married this wonderful Summer of Love in California) as well as Betsy's mom Alma greeted me enthusiastically.

While in LA, I met, at last, Dan Smetanka — a brilliant editor who had been so important in the evolution of Mistress of the Sun. We'd worked closely together — the relationship between an editor and writer can be intensely intimate — but had never met. We talked in an exploratory way about The Next Novel.

The following night, at famous Volman's bookstore in Pasadena, I was surprised to see three people. First, Manuel Romo and his wife. My husband and I know Manuel well — we rent a casita from him when we go to a beach in Mexico every January — but I'd never seen him in a jacket and reading glasses and long pants, and certainly never expected to see him in California. He laughed at my puzzlement, "You don't recognize me!"

Then there was Alisha and her husband Andy. Alisha is a cousin's daughter (second-cousin, then?), and a dear family connection. She spends hours each week with the apes at the zoo and has learned how to communicate with them. I persuaded her to share this special language at my reading. I have it on video and will post it as soon as I get my computers sorted out.

And then there was Bonnie Sachs, with whom I'd shared a glorious week on horseback in the Loire Valley. We had a wonderful time relating stories.

Once in San Francisco, in the Bay Area, I was truly in home territory, a wonderful place to end the tour. At Book Passage in Corte Madera, I met virtual friend and author, Deborah Grabien, close family friend Andrée Morgana, who brought Suzy and Val from high school days (!), my brother's wife Jenny with her mother and aunt, and — now back in northern California — soon-to-be sister-in-law Betsy. I've never had so many photographs taken — they were like paparazzi!

Then, the next day in San Francisco, after a full morning of bookstore stock signing, I had a wonderful lunch-meet with historical novelist Christopher Gortner, who glowingly reviewed Mistress of the Sun for the Historical Novels Society. It's a special thing when a reader strongly "clicks" with your work, and the more so when that reader is a writer. Christopher's novel The Last Queen will be out shortly — I'm very much looking forward to reading it.

And then, at a wonderful last event in Oakland, at A Great Good Place for Books: brother Perry and Jenny (again!), aunt Dildar, my 90-year-old dad, Bob Zentner, who I induced to demonstrate in my wig. (Photo to come.)

Also there: writer, anthologist and pal Victoria Zackeim, her daughter and her daughter's two daughters (such a beautiful family), as well as — tra la! — three members of Books et Al, a book club that had read Mistress of the Sun in draft before it was published, and whose feedback had been so important to the final final final draft.

And thus came to an end a four-week tour I had expected to exhaust and deplete me, but which I enjoyed enormously.

This photo was taken by Jenny at this last event:

Holding up the lightening rod

.
.
I met with Dan Smetanka last night in LA, a brilliant editor who worked with me (along with my other editors) on Mistress of the Sun. Dan is the type of editor who reaches into your bowels and yanks out your stuff. Sorry to be so graphic, but he's not a polish type of guy (although he does that, too). He's the big picture, the gritty picture, a guts-of-the-matter guy. Working with him was like working with a master.

We talked about The Next Novel. I confessed I was at a loss. For both Mistress and Josephine B., I felt I'd been hit by lightening: the message was clear. Now, I have interests, certainly, but I haven't exactly been zapped. He advised me to give myself time, to rest, dream, hold up that lightening rod. Yes.

So this morning, Caroline Leavitte's blog post on her own Next Book spoke to me clearly: What's that novel about again? She writes:

It's hard to know what your new novel is about until after you've finished it, at least it is for me.

I feel like I'm treading water and there are sharks all around. And they're hungry.

It's possible to just wade in, but Mistress took eight years, and this time I'd like more of an idea of what the novel is about before I begin writing it. In the meantime, I'm treading water, holding up that lightening rod with a wary eye on the circling sharks.