Since I totally suck at actually getting the writing done (Despite the “official” deadlines I have) I thought I’d write a post about editing. 

Yes, because I’ve never done that before. 

Constructive Feedback

How would you classify this kind of feedback?  Well, anything that helps really.  You may share your work in progress with friends or family, you may be part of a writing group, or if you’re lucky (as I am) you may have a few dedicated writing buddies who exchange work from time to time.  Writing groups though, may be a little hit and miss.  I used to attend a writing group – long disbanded now – where we often exchanged work to receive feedback.  Well I’ll tell you, the few of us who were regular attendee’s had various projects on the go, some had a serious volume of work behind them, others just wrote occasionally for pleasure.  However, I found the group somewhat disappointing and occasionally frustrating.  Why was this?  Primarily it was because the majority of the feedback was – and this wasn’t just to my work here – along the lines of “I really liked it”, or “that was really good.” Which as we all know is not feedback at all.  It doesn’t particularly help you as a writer to know that someone liked your work. 

I further remember at university when we had our feedback sessions each week.  Now I don’t want to appear harsh to anyone, but you could tell who was serious about writing and who was just doing it to pass the unit.  The work that was workshopped just to pass the unit lacked a certain something.  Some of the work was just plain bad.  I’m not saying they were bad writers, only some submissions were.  I would torture myself every Sunday, writing detailed feedback, giving notes – most of it (hopefully) constructive, even on the work that I didn’t like, or the work that was clearly just for the mark.  But I did it because lets face it, if you can’t get good at analysing other people’s work, how are you going to be good at analysing your own? 

But I digress. 

Utilising Feedback

 
The feedback I’m concerning myself with here is in an official capacity.  Anyone who hopes to get published is obviously going to need to have their work read and, well, edited, by an editor.  Now I’ve never had this before.  Obviously I’ve had feedback from friends, and I’ve made alterations based on that (or not, depending), but getting notes and suggestions from an actual editor in an official capacity is a whole different beast. 

It is different because if you totally ignore everything the editor tells you, then they won’t work with you, and you wont get published.  I’ll be honest, this is what terrifies me!  After my first round of notes I got back, I had that voice in the back of my head saying, “change everything she wants you to!  Do whatever she says!  If you don’t she’ll ditch you and your story wont get published!” 

But this is the other end of the extreme.  If you do change everything your editor tells you to, then you’ll more than likely get ditched too.  Nobody wants to work with someone who is a pushover. 

So where is the middle ground?  While I like to think that I give mostly constructive feedback, as far as I recall, I have never (or at least very rarely) replaced the writer’s text.  I may suggest alternatives to certain lines of dialogue and so fourth, but plain rewriting someone’s text is – I find anyway – a little rude.  It may appear that you don’t trust or believe in the writer’s voice, or that you feel you can do a better job.  Now it’s fine to maybe suggest a replacement line of dialogue if it’s a real clanger.  God knows I’ve written some god awful dialogue in my past.  What writer hasn’t?  I keep a hold of that and sometimes, when I’m dissatisfied with a writing session, I just tell myself “Well, at least it wasn’t as bad as…” 

The Middle Ground

 
No, the middle ground is to take on board any notes and suggestions, and change your writing accordingly, your own way, in your own voice.  With each piece of feedback I get, my online editor gives me a list of questions to do with the episodes, which gives me some indications as to what is clear and what isn’t.  This is I find very useful.  Don’t replace text when you give feedback, but ask questions. If you ask questions of the writer, it is the clearest indication of what it is that works and what doesn’t.

My editor also makes alterations (suggests alterations) to the text, and I will mostly (but not always) alter the text, or change a scene, to accommodate.  After all, if you receive feedback on one chapter at a time (or an episode at a time, in my case) there may be material in there that doesn’t make immediate sense, but is clarified in a later episode.

It’s about getting used to not being precious about your work.  But it also opens up new avenues.  I think I mentioned in my last post that this series is big.  And dense.  There is so much stuff in it and I’ll be honest, it isn’t all going to fit in the one series.  Also, some of the characters are superfluous.  In context to how I originally envisioned it, as prose, then yes, you can include the smaller characters, the ones who are in the background most of the time, who don’t have main storylines.  However, scripting is a different beast.  Eight main characters and almost a dozen supporting may work in a book of prose, but in a series?  Can you name a series which has a main cast of almost ten characters and more than that in recurring roles?  Shut up about Lost! So you have to cut some.  And while some of my characters were heavily under-developed anyway, it has been suggested that I lose some characters from various scenes and replace them with others.  And this does cause me a little pain. 

However!  It does also get my creative juices flowing.  It’s part of the thinking on your feet thing.  Making the given suggestions work within the greater context.  And it has actually helped a few more of the pieces fall into place for me.

 Now all I need to do is write them!

OK, well now that that advice has been readily ignored, allow me to explain.

I was idly going through my files recently, and made the horrific mistake of looking at some old projects. And when I say this, I don’t mean some half written notes or random ideas, I mean I was looking at two projects which I have dedicated a hell of a lot of time to. Not just in terms of physically writing, but also into ‘thought time’, creating ideas, plotting out storylines, dialogue, character depth and so on. One was an idea about a TV show I had, and the other was another book.

Lets leave the TV show for now, and focus more on the book, because this is something I dedicated more time to. Now the idea I had concerned a lot of smaller stories, taken from a particular person’s point of view, that all interwove and overlapped. Due to the nature of the backstory I’d built up, I could – in theory – write this project for the rest of my life.

Unfortunately, I revisited it, didn’t I?

And I was appalled. This writing was terrible. Simply terrible. The characters were two dimensional (hell, not even that), the storyline had no cohesion, the dialogue was risible and then I got to the bit I’d almost forgotten about. The horrifically written lesbian sex scene. Jeez, am I not over that already? I actually found myself ashamed to have written this.

But before this turns into a major moaning session, lets turn to how this can help you write. OK, so revisiting old work can be demoralizing. But it can also be very helpful.  This is what I found when I read this piece.  I think more than anything it was just how clumsy it was. Obviously, since it had a lesbian sex scene in it. Any writing that falls back on that is doomed.

But after my initial shock, and despair, and strong desire to never write anything ever again, I looked at the situation pragmatically. ‘OK, so this writing sucks. How do we make it better?’

It can be a very useful writing exercise. Keeping a few of those old projects floating around just to remind you of how much your writing has progressed. Because my main project – my book – has undergone the same kind of evolution. I have, in the past, looked at sections of that and thought how bad they were, but I pushed through and improved them. This is what you can do with the older, less developed work.  I should probably also add that this ‘older work’ isn’t from when I was a teenager either, but from only four years ago. That’s right, this is probably my newest idea, and yet it doesn’t stand up.

But there I am back to the moaning again. How to use this? It’s all in the editing. A piece of writing may be clumsy, it may have few merits, but its all part of the process, isn’t it? As painful as it might be, all of us – as writers – face that point where we may need to scrap large sections of work – maybe even whole projects. I know I’ve had to do it in my book. I had to scrap a three chapter section, which I quite liked, due mainly to the fact that it no longer fit and made the whole thing too long. So I applied the same logic to this ‘old’ idea. Let’s get serious now. I had to ask myself these very important questions:

1. What is the overall aim and purpose of this piece?
2. How does it fit into the larger structure? Is the overall structure working?
3. Is there a definite aim? Am I  procrastinating too much?

This last one is probably the most important one of all. As I’ve said in previous posts, I don’t mind a story that takes its time, as long as its interesting to read, but there is a massive difference between building up to a solid momentum and simply procrastinating for the hell of it.

So what did I tell myself? I have to get on point and stay there. Cut the superfluous characters, the pointless tensions which add nothing to it, solidify the setting, do some research and for god’s sake, get rid of the lesbian sex scene!

Yes, in order to grow as a writer, you do sometimes need to look back at where you’ve come from, in order to drive you forward to where you’re going to.

1. Before you start – pick your reviewers carefully

For a start, you don’t want too much feedback, so I think it’s a good idea to limit your number of critics to 5 well thought out selections. Be careful, and honest with yourself about your choice. You want people who:

• will be honest with you and not just say nice things
• Can communicate what they think about your writing
• Read often

You might also want people who are familiar with the genre you are writing in, but that might depend on what your aims are for the piece.

2. Don’t argue.

There will be a temptation to defend your writing when receiving criticism. This is fair enough, but as soon as you start arguing your case, you’ve closed the doors. Instead, force yourself to be quiet when receiving criticism. Don’t reply, other than to thank them (this includes replying in writing). Not arguing forces you to carefully consider what has been said. That does not mean you have to agree. As long as you have taken it in, if you still don’t agree, that’s fine.

3. Weigh up the responses.

You have to decide how much a particular criticism is worth and whether you will take it on. Again, be honest; it can be very easy to find reasons to dismiss all criticism. But if you’ve selected your critics carefully it’s almost certainly not the best option.

Having said that, there may be perfectly good reasons to give greater weight to some people’s comments over others. One person, unfamiliar with the genre, could find one passage confusing, whereas an aficionado in that genre might sail through it without comment or give it particular praise. Now, depending on how accessible you want the piece to be, you could change it to suit one person or the other.

Also, numbers make a difference. A comment that comes up more than once within a group of five people, certainly warrants your attention.

4. Let them know what you expect.

If you are after something specific, tell them. If you want them to just give general comments, tell them that. Give them the list of tips for giving feedback from this website if you like especially if they are not used to giving feedback.

Making sure they know what you are expecting adds value to the comments you get. Otherwise you risk getting something back that you can’t use.

5. Remember, it’s your writing.

You can’t please all the people all the time. There will come a time (numerous times, in fact) when, having considered the comments made against your writing, you simply can’t change it. You just don’t agree with the point being made. And anyway, you know that later in the story, this and this will happen, clearing up the confusion in that exchange and explaining just why the banana ended up there in the first place.

So, you make an executive decision, and you don’t change it. Or you change it in another way entirely. The point is, never relinquish control. This is your piece, and in the end, it’s down to you, and not them.

That’s your lot! I hope that is of some use. But if not, let me know what tips you would give. I welcome any feedback in the comments. Come on, I can take it

So with that in mind, I’ve been thinking about what I do when I give feedback, and also the kind of feedback I like to receive on my writing. And here’s the result – my six tips for reviewing someone else’s work and giving feedback.

Six? Six? That’s not catchy at all is it? Well it was going to be five until I realised I had left out a very obvious, but no less important one. Besides, I’m not going to hamstring a perfectly good list by forcing it to fit a title; that’s not how I roll!

1. Be constructive

This is number one because I want to get it out if the way – it is SO obvious, and should go without saying, but in the interests of completeness…

Don’t just say that something is rubbish. Don’t just say that something is great. If you like/dislike something, tell them why that is. There. Done.

2. Be honest

Another obvious one, but it can be very easy to go all coy and give only praise. Praise is a great ego massage, but there’s only so much you can do with it. If a writer has given you something to look at, it should be because they want to improve it, not because they are showing off. So point them in the right direction!

3. Keep it broad brushstrokes, and don’t write it for them

If I’m asked to give feedback, I will generally keep that feedback broad. I will talk about pacing, characterisation, how I felt about a piece overall. Unless I’ve been asked, I wouldn’t want to pick on a particular paragraph and try to dissect it (apart from to say it was too long, for example – again, quite a broad point to make).

I am not editing the piece, so it would do no good to tell them to cut sentences, or write in more appropriate words. I don’t want to impinge on the writer’s voice, or the direction they are going to take their story. There are times when I think I would have written a sentence differently, but a lot of the time, that comes down to personal taste or style (again, there are exceptions – I would point out if I did not understand a particular sentence for example).

As an illustration, I might read a chapter from a longer piece and say something along the lines of,

“A lot if stuff happens in this chapter, and there are a few different concepts about how the world works that are introduced all at once. I wouldn’t mind a slower pace so that I can digest it all”

Or

“I’ve got a good handle on character A but I’m having trouble distinguishing between characters B C and D”

It’s then up to the author to decide if they agree and to work out a way of slowing the pace down or differentiating their characters.

5. Ask them what they’re looking for

A lot of times you might want to give comments about a piece if work. but the author is already aware of the issue or may even have written it that way on purpose. This is especially true if you are reviewing part of a longer piece of writing. For example, it is not hard to imagine reading a detailed description of a character and commenting, “I don’t think we need to spend so much time over such an insignificant character”. The author might know different, and might prefer to know whether that description was vivid enough that you would recognise the character several chapters later, when they suddenly become vital.

So, with this in mind you can ask the author if there are any specific things they’d like you to look for.

6. Ignore what authors ask you to look for

Okay, so I deliberately phrased that point like that to mess with you! But seriously, even if I’ve asked for something I should look for, I will then ignore that when I read through the text. I will then read the questions afterwards.

The idea behind this is that I want to be able to give an honest answer, untainted by bias because I’ve been primed. After all, the reader is not going to have a list of prompts to indicate how they should read the text. Having read the questions, I may go back and re read parts or all of the text, but this is largely to help decide why I felt the way I did about it. Say I completely missed the description of that character above. I would want to be able to tell the author why I thought that was, and offer any tips I could.

So those are my tips. There’s probably a great many more things you can usefully keep in mind when looking at writing, but these are the points that I tend to concentrate on. If you have any tips, please share them in the comments.

Okay, so your first draft is done. You have written your masterpiece. You’re aware that now begins the honing and chipping to get everything just so. But you’ve read it over and read it over again, and apart from a few tweaks it seems fine. But is it really?

One thing teachers and my mother always told me when it came to editing – leave it for a bit. Of course, then it mostly applied to schoolwork – essays and their ilk, so it was not always practical to leave the work and not look at it for a while, especially if it was a last minute job! But it does help to file it away somewhere for a couple of weeks; a month if you can, and let it simmer.

The problem is you’ve had your head right in it for weeks (or months for longer projects), and you’ve completely lost your objectivity. Ideally you should be coming at it as if it’s someone else’s work (I don’tknow about you, but I always find it easier to edit someone else’s efforts), as if you are reading it for the first time. Now, it may be impossible to reach that ideal, but you can get pretty close. You will find a lot more things to change and it will be a better piece of work because of it.

I reckon the best time to do it is when you think the work is finished. Do a quick round of editing perhaps, to pick up anything obvious, and when it feels like you’re just about done, put it away. It’s not like you’re going to be twiddling your thumbs for the next month – start a new project. Keep reading, keep writing. This may go on for several rounds. I like to do one extra round just in case anyway, but if you’ve made sweeping changes, re-written whole pages, you might want to check that they still ring true after another month.

Who amongst us does something similar? How long do you leave your work for, and do you show people before or after you’ve finished editing? Are there any other ways you can think of to get that objectivity back?

Now it’s almost 8 years later and it languishes in my flash drive. The few times a month I do look at it, I can barely edit a few pages; and all that involves is reading through it and changing the occasional word! And it isn’t fatigue with my work, or the story, or the characters. God no, I could comfortably live with these characters for many books (though I’m not a fan of serialisation for the sake of it), nor is it that I have particular issues with editing. I’m not such a fan of it as I am of generating new material, ideas, situations, characters and so fourth, but I find it to be an intense slog.

Maybe I just don’t have the stamina for it.

Part of it I guess is the many distractions. Other people may call it “life”. Life totally gets in the way, because lets face it, writing is a very solitary exercise. It takes an incredible amount of focus and determination, and it’s not exactly something that you can do socially. And editing is, well it’s the nuts and bolts of the whole process isn’t it? The actual writing part – generating the raw material, that’s fairly easy, if you’ve got your head on right, and you have a decent idea you can follow through on, but the editing of it – that’s something totally different.

I’ve never been someone who’s suffered from writer’s block before. I know that may not be a terribly big help to someone who does, but I do suffer editor’s block. Could this affliction be worse? It’s fine coming up with new ideas, rewording things, but I usually do so when I don’t have access to a computer, and when I do come to edit, then it never seems as good when I do write it down.

Something else which I’ve recently thought is that I haven’t really written anything new for a long time. All the writing I work on is stuff I originally wrote years ago, and have been caught up in editing since. It’s one of the dangers I guess of writing longer fiction. I mean, short stories – a few thousand words, you can write it in a few hours, do a few weeks of editing on it, and be happy with the result.

A book, or a full screenplay, can be much much more difficult. You have more words to correct for a start, a full complex story, several plot strands, a whole host of characters to round out, clichés to eliminate… And usually, when I’m editing something, I may throw in a new idea, change the flow of the story, which can make radical changes later, so most of the final chapters need to be entirely re-written. I guess this part I don’t mind so much, but just having to adjust one or two little details in search of ‘perfection’…

So how do I get rid of the block? How do I eliminate all these distractions that life will throw at me? How do I find the stamina to blast through to the finish line? Well, it’s strange to think of it this way, but when I write, I never actually write. I type. I uncovered a piece of mine a few weeks ago – one that I’d printed off, and I was reading through it, and found it so much easier to edit on paper than I did on a screen. And as much as I hate to waste paper, I guess I’ve found that actually writing is the best way to beat the block.

A lecturer at uni once put it to me that the actual act of writing, of fashioning something creative with words, was done after some words have actually been put to the page. I’d like to add something to that as well – the part that comes before you write an actual paragraph.

To clarify, the bit before is the note-taking; the bit after is the editing.

Notes

Note-taking is really free and empowering. Try it – take a pen and piece of paper and scribble down some sentences or single words that begin to outline what you want to write about. As long as you don’t fall into the trap of spending too much time on each point and fleshing it out, you should find that the ideas flow quite freely.

And it feels creative, largely because it is so quick, and ideas are allowed to come thick and fast – not like the drudgery of churning out pages of text. And this is of course where a lot of the background to your story, as well as character profiles and important plot points might emerge.

And once you’ve done enough planning, you might feel you are ready to start ‘writing’. But the argument here is that you shouldn’t think of it as writing. You shouldn’t expect to have the finished article ready first time through, and very likely you know that. So don’t feel guilty if all you do is churn something out that follows your notes. Don’t worry if it’s rubbish. After all, that’s what editing’s for!

Editing

And here’s the last creative bit. You’ve got your raw material, and now you can start shaping it. This bit feels limp and lifeless, so jazz it up; the dialogue in this section doesn’t distinguish between each of the characters enough; do I even need this paragraph?

Reshuffling bits, redoing sentences, cutting (and more cutting) is actually a far more creative experience than simply putting words on a page. Thinking of editing as the important, creative part of the work that will get you your masterpiece means you are less afraid of that blank page.

Or that’s the theory anyway. It’s certainly an approach that I’m going to try and apply in my work, but I don’t think I’m quite there yet. It’s quite a shift in attitude and will take some training.

Time for a clumsy metaphor…

Okay, think of it this way. You’re a sculptor, and you’ve been commissioned to create a masterpeice.

First you prospect, looking for your subject, getting the pose right in your head, and looking for the material you’re going to use. That’s your note-taking.

Then comes the drudging, back-breaking work of digging out that piece of marble you’re going to use and dragging it back to your studio, or whatever. that’s your pen-to-paper stuff.

Then you get to chip away at your marble, and before your eyes carve your masterpiece from the unsightly block. Editing.

Okay, so it’s not the most poetic of metaphors, but you get the picture.

What do you think? What stage of the writing process do you find the most creative?