Category: Revision & Editing

That’s What She Said

 

r-avatarOr was it him?

Writing is often a solitary pursuit. When you have a co-author, a lot of the loneliness can be mitigated, but it’s still a good idea to widen your circle.

As we’ve mentioned in earlier posts, we belong to a critique group. Our weekly meetings provide a chance to get out of the writing cave and connect with other writers. We highly recommend finding your own group of authors for in-person meetings. You’ll get help with sticky prose, encouragement and reassurance on your journey to publication, and by helping others with their sticky prose, you’ll hone your mad editing skillz.

When you work as part of a writing team, you get an added benefit to critique group membership: the others will not be able to resist trying to suss out which of you wrote which passage. If you’ve done your job well, they will have a hard time guessing. It’s amusing to watch them, and gratifying, too. If your fellow writers have a hard time determining authorship, it means you’re doing it right.

There will be partnerships that break up the writing tasks along gender lines, with the male author writing the male characters and the female author writing the females. If that’s what works for you, it’s not a problem. It just makes the critique group guessing game easier once they figure out the pattern. In other writing partnerships, one of you will handle the dialog and the other the action, or one may excel at the relationship stuff while the other is a master of intricate plotting.

However you divide the work, you should strive for a unified voice. Make it your goal to stump your readers, even when they are writers that you know personally, that in addition to understanding the rules of fiction writing, know your individual voices and personalities.

back in the saddle, almost

r-avatarThis week we finally took some serious steps back toward writing. Because of the lengthy interruption in our routine, we couldn’t just dive straight back in. We needed to do a read-through of the existing material first.

Our current novel is about half done, standing at 75,000 words. That doesn’t mean it will definitely be 150,000 when it’s finished, just that we’ve dealt with roughly half of the events defined in the outline. World-building can be dialed back now, but on the other hand there’s a lot of complicated action coming up. And it’s a first draft, so who knows what might happen in revisions. What we do know is it was a very wise move to get reacquainted with the text, because with that much of it there were a lot of details we had forgotten.

The experience of reading the whole thing rapidly was very enjoyable; dare we say we were pleasantly surprised. It got us talking about the curious tension between author and manuscript. You have to be in love with it, because some powerful force needs to motivate you to take on so much work. But you also need to be your own work’s harshest critic if you really love it, because excising the merely good to make room for something great is also a ton of work. When you’re wrapped up in the crafting of prose, sometimes the big-picture aspects of the project become hazy. You need to get some distance once in a while. In that respect, our longer-than-planned hiatus had a silver lining.

We were each going to read it separately, but instead Kent wound up reading the whole (half) novel aloud. Jen was very appreciative. We made notes as we went, often discussing the book during our evening strolls. We did spot some gaps we’ll have to fill, and we agreed that some of what’s there will need significant changes. Some writers might opt to tackle those revisions by way of resuming the writing workflow, but we’re not going to do that. Now that the whole thing is again fresh in our collective mind, and we have good notes about the things we were concerned about in the first half, we’re going to move forward. That’s what nearly all the writing advice books say, and it’s one case where we firmly agree with them.

Getting back up to speed after a layoff is always tricky. Jen and Kent find that having a writing partner helps tremendously with overcoming the inertia that inevitably sets in. Even if you write solo, it’s a really good idea to connect with other writers somehow, such as through involvement with a critique group. You’ll feel a bit of peer pressure, which in this case is a good thing. With a collaborator, that incentive to be productive is always there.

Spoiler Telepathy

r-avatarAn important way that we’ve kept one foot in the writing universe while distracted from our usual routine is by attending our critique group meetings. In that environment, we are sometimes two people and sometimes just one.

If the work being critiqued is someone else’s, then Kent and Jen each provide separate feedback. Rune Skelley, per se, doesn’t offer any suggestions. However, when it’s Rune Skelley’s pages under discussion, then it’s Rune Skelley sitting at the table. We pass significant looks and sometimes literally pass notes to each other, but Jen usually finds just stepping on Kent’s foot under the table is enough to make her point.

The need for all this clandestine communication arises from spoilers. Maybe not every critique group runs this way, but we like to get “an honest read” on our material. Plot points and character motivations often look quite different when you’re clued in about where it all leads, which means a spoiled reader will see connections that others might miss. To get a feel for whether the story is tracking, we keep our readers in the dark.

But the whole point of the group is to talk shop. Sometimes you want to throw out hypothetical edits and see if people feel they’d improve the flow or clarity. Sometimes you simply need to confirm, “You guys know Wiggins robbed the bank and Jinks is just taking the fall, right?” Delving into real analysis of the text means flirting with spoilers.

This is where telepathy comes in handy. With a quirked eyebrow, Kent can ask if it’s okay to bring up a plot detail, and Jen will know which one he means. We can ride the line to keep our readers honest while still being able to have a conversation with them. And if Kent starts to babble, Jen can always step on his foot.

Weasel Stomping Boots

We all have our particular words that we tend to overuse. When writing in tandem with a partner, the weasel-word list can be twice as large.

In our partnership we have a system for keeping this issue under control. We have an actual list to work from and we use the software’s find function to track them down. Here’s the clever bit: we color-code them throughout the text so they jump out. That way we can skim through the manuscript watching for clumps. This is something we do together in real-time, so we can discuss whether to keep or stomp each weasel as we go. It would probably work out all right to divvy up the work, but we like the double-team approach for this particular aspect of the revision process.

Most of our weasels are qualifiers — almost, just, seem, appear, etc. — but we also use our color-coding technique to help us spot passive voice and repetitive sentence structures. It’s a great way of prompting yourself to really see how you’re using words, encouraging an analytical reading mode rather than getting drawn into your own story or glazing over because it’s all so familiar.

In our writing, and in work we review for our critique group, we have noticed a tendency to adopt pet words. These pets are generally not weasels (because who would want a pet weasel?), just regular words that get stuck in the writer’s head for whatever reason, and wind up on the page an inordinate number of times in a passage. BTW – “inordinate” was a pet word we encountered at one time.

With a writing partner, you have two sets of fingers creating the pet words, but you also have two sets of eyes and ears looking out for them. For us, that’s a beneficial trade-off.

What herd of weasels do you have to wrangle? How do you go after them?

Minutiae

We’re getting down to the bitter end with our edits on the third book in the trilogy. We’ve done all the big things like deleting scenes and resequencing chapters. Characters that only had one or two point-of-view scenes now find themselves with none, relegated to the background like a mere extra in a movie. Descriptions have been expanded, motivations clarified, plot points strengthened, dialog perfected. The ending has tripled in size (Now with moar happenings!).

What is left?! I hear you cry.

Weasel words, that’s what’s left.

What are weasel words? You cry yet again.

Weasel words are meaningless little words that clutter up your prose. Every author has certain crutch words that pop up, seemingly while you’re not looking, like dandelions. In our case these crutches are mainly qualifying words. Given free rein, our sentences would all look like this:

Apparently he actually perhaps might have just wanted to.

And so we use the Find function of our word processor to search out these evil little weasels and banish them.* We talk about every single one. Yes, it’s tedious, but when we’re done the prose is much snappier. It sparkles like morning dew.

What does any of this have to do with collaboration?! I hear you cry one final time.

Well, until you have a half-hour-long argument over whether or not a particular sentence needs “had” to truly connote when in time and space the action occurred in relation to the currently happening story actions, you can’t truly call yourself a co-author.

* This technique also works well for ferreting out passive voice. Color all instances of “was” red, and, when you’re done crying, your novel will thank you.

Collaborating in a Critique Group

We are currently participating in a writing workshop with author Carolyn Turgeon. The format is quite different from our regular critique group, but in both cases we, being collaborators, are unique. Perhaps I should say that Rune Skelley is unique. Jen and Kent are equivalent, and thus non-unique.

Pedantry aside, how do collaborators participate in a critique group? Do you alternate who offers feedback from week to week? Do you take turns finishing each others’ sentences? The way we’ve chosen to handle it is by presenting one piece of work for critique, and adding two voices and opinions to the discussions of other authors’ work. Our co-critiquers seem to like this arrangement. It gives them twice as much input on their own piece, without requiring twice the time commitment to read our stuff.

It does take discipline though, not to launch into a private conversation with your co-author during the meeting. A reader will ask a question or make an observation that sparks a Big Idea and you’ll want to talk about it. You really will. But you have to stay focused on the meeting. No one wants to sit and watch the two of you talk cryptically, or argue. You have to save all of that for the car ride home.

The car ride home is the best time to discuss the feedback you’ve just received, while it’s all still fresh in your minds. Having a writing partner to go through it all with is an invaluable tool. There will sometimes be comments that you don’t feel are valid, and if your partner agrees, then you can probably dismiss them. Other times though, one of you will be dismissive and the other won’t. That’s when things get interesting. Chances are the critique is valid, and without that second set of ears it might have been ignored.

One caveat: when you’re both madly in love with your project, it can be terribly easy to talk yourselves out of taking any of the critique to heart.

Kent: Man, I can’t believe how blind our readers were this week! None of them noticed the clever anagram of the name of that obscure scientist, or that we used the word “eight” exactly eight times!

Jen: I know! How could they ALL have totally missed the point of that scene?!

Do you participate in a critique group? Do you want to know more about how ours operate? Let us know in the comments.

Editing With a Partner

Once the fun of writing is out of the way it’s time to edit, and that’s another case where having a writing partner can be extremely helpful. You got yourselves into this mess, now you can work together to get yourselves out.

It’s sort of like having a child. The creation is the fun part. Once it’s there you both need to parent, and everyone will be happier if you’re on the same side.

We like to let a manuscript rest for awhile after the first draft is complete before we get into the editing process, to be able to see it with fresh eyes. When we do pick it up again, we start with a full read-through. On this first pass we mark major problems (plot holes, bad dialog, overexplaining or underexplaining) and any typos that we happen to catch, but we save the line-editing for later.

After each chapter we have a quick (and sometimes not so quick) conversation about what we’ve noticed. The goal is not to fix the problems on the spot, just to make each other aware of concerns so we can pay attention to them going forward.

A writer working on his or her own lacks the built-in sounding board a collaborator provides. The author might sense that there’s something wrong with a passage, but without a coauthor steeped in the minutia of the project to discuss it with, might be unable to diagnose the problem.

You do need to be careful, though, not to talk each other out of necessary edits. We’ll talk about that more in a future post.

Once the first read-through is done, it’s time to start working on those edits. Don’t worry, as you get in and start making changes, you’ll find a million other things to tweak and finesse. It’s fun! Honest!

If you were working on your own you’d be responsible for everything, but since you’re smart and have a writing partner, you can share the load. You can break it down by chapter if you like, or you can make assignments a different way. Set one partner to beefing up character descriptions and the other to improving dialog.

In our edits we’re currently dealing with the fallout of my darling partner deciding that the ending was too abrupt. This derailed all other work while we had lengthy brainstorming sessions and walked laps around the neighborhood, getting some exercise while we confused any eavesdropping neighbors with our cryptic conversational shorthand. We’re coming out the other side of that quagmire now, and I have to admit the finished product is going to be better for it.

Thanks, writing partner!

Sharing a Voice

A common remark about our work is that it feels seamless. Our fellow writers express surprise at being unable to pick out which parts Kent wrote and which parts Jen wrote. This is an important element of our partnership, and it’s not something that happens by accident.

Maintaining this common voice requires attention at all stages of the process. It falls out more naturally in the early steps, because we typically work together when developing story concepts and outlining a plot. Once we have the scene list, we break that down so that we each get approximately half, and for the next little while we tend to be working individually more often than not.

Composing separately allows us to generate a draft in half the time, but if we’re not careful it could also allow us to run into big problems. If our interpretations of the target voice aren’t alike, the scenes might not mesh. So we keep each other updated on our progress, and we critique the scenes as they’re written. This keeps us from straying in different stylistic directions, although after working as a team for a few years we can “do the voice” automatically at this point.

Revision is when we do most of the blending. Jen works the scenes that are a little too Kent, and vice-versa, so we don’t leave any loose edges for the reader to trip on. The objective isn’t to take out each partner’s individual flair, but to make sure the combined effect is fluid and harmonious throughout. Sometimes that does require toning certain things down, but only if they were genuinely overdone in the first place.

For example, Kent has a proclivity for ostentatious word usage. Not just trotting out the expensive words like “proclivity,” but also a perverse drive to exploit the most arcane connotations of familiar words. A useful skill for an author, but also a really effective way to limit readership if it’s not managed. And, if it cropped up at seemingly random times it could easily feel like another story invading. Rather than removing all of the fancy verbiage, we make sure it’s evenly represented (at a reasonable level) throughout.

There’s a lot more we could say about this aspect of a writing partnership. After all, being able to work well with each other doesn’t matter if your results feel cobbled-together. So we’ll be revisiting this in future posts.

 

Sharing the Load with A Writing Partner

Last night was an interesting case in our collaboration workflow.

We’re revising the first draft of our third novel, after poring over all the marked-up copies from our critique group and also doing a fresh read-through of our own. The result is that we have about one hundred significant notes marked throughout the manuscript (Along with another couple hundred picky mechanical things).

This book is the last of a trilogy, which means it relies on knowledge from the first two. In an ideal world it would stand on its own, but this is not an ideal world. The need for recap and reminders about previous events applies somewhat in any sizable work, but it’s especially important to manage it well when the information spans more than one volume. Due to the somewhat unusual structure to our trilogy, this problem did not arise in volume 2, which makes this the first time we’ve had to attempt this delicate balance. Too much recap and the reader gets bored, too little and the reader gets lost.

So after flagging all the notes as “recap” or “other,” we discussed how to divvy up the load. One of the main advantages to working with a writing partner is that many hands make light work. With both collaborators working at the same time you can get done sooner. I proposed that I could take all the recaps, because it looked like roughly half of the work and it felt like there would be a mode to get into with it. My writing partner would tackle all the “other” stuff. My theory was there would be less shifting gears if all the recap-type stuff was given to the same person.

My partner was reluctant to embrace the idea, largely because this recapping is new territory for our collaboration. She was concerned that if I started out headed in the wrong direction I might get lost in some backwoods swamp of info-dumps and “as you know Bob.” We talked about it a bit more and came up with a plan that addressed the concerns. Because we don’t have an established model to follow, we agreed that I’d only do one to start off, and then we’d look it over and make sure we both liked the approach.

That first discussion did lead to some minor alterations, and the same thing happened with the next one. We’re finding the right groove, and soon I’ll be able to cook up batches of three or four at a time. Or, if she gets tired of hunting down minor plot inconsistencies and describing settings and character clothing in greater detail, we will be able to trade off assignments and maintain the level of stylistic consistency we need.