
I had the chance to visit a class of undergraduate advanced Fiction Writing students this week. It was delightful—I remember being an undergrad, having authors come into our classroom, sit at a desk, and just chat with students. It always felt like such a privilege to gain insights into their writing process, and it was absolutely a privilege for me (some 13 years later) to be able to share my experiences with them.
These being writing students, their questions were so different from those I get at Q&A sessions with readers. They were incredibly specific and craft-focused.
Here is a rendering of me every time I am initially asked a craft question:
Shrug emoji. That’s all that goes through my mind. Because at first thought, I don’t really know how I did xyz in a specific scene or throughout the narrative. I know it was difficult. I know it didn’t just happen. I know I knew enough to sense something was off on the page and that I needed to fix it until it was right. Craft is hard work, but it can also feel like magic. It’s subtle enough to feel instinctual, when it’s really the deeply engrained benefits of practice and experience.
In other words: when I’m asked a question about craft, I inevitably end up describing revision. Because I’m not a writer who gets everything right the first time. I’m not even a writer who gets everything right the second time. Except for the occasional scene that has manifested more or less in its true, final form (again: magic!) I am very much a reviser.
When I was an undergrad, my Creative Writing teacher once told us: the first draft is self-expression, the art is in revision.
I embrace that wholeheartedly in the writing process. I write a first draft with no real plan or outline, then I step back halfway through and try to piece together what I might be saying. Sometimes at that point, I’ll outline the rest of the story, but it’s only once a first draft is done that the real work can begin.
For me, revision starts very organically and gets progressively more strategic with every subsequent draft. But in the beginning, I just feel my way through a story. Some ways I do that include:
- rewrite entire scenes. Ask: can I achieve the same thing in a completely different way?
- play with the possibility of starting a story from a new point or point of view.
- choose a completely different focal point—if you start by seeing a character sitting on a chair in a waiting room, what happens if you begin with your attention on the faded poster for dental implants on the wall?
- write letters from one character to another. The kinds of letters that will never end up in your story, but they’ll reveal your characters’ voices to you.
One thing I don’t do a lot of in this stage of revision is rewrite. Even the word itself—re.write.—hints at repetition, the act of doing something again. What’s the point if we end up in the same place? Shouldn’t we be thinking of revision not as a rewrite, but a reimagining? Not a retracing of our steps, but an exploration in a completely uncharted direction?
If you think you know where you’re headed, go another way.
If you’re struggling with where to begin, write the middle or the end.
If you’re worried a story isn’t working, all the more reason to fearlessly disassemble it.
If it’s not coming together as a whole, take a closer, deeper look at the pieces.
Let go of the expectation that it can only exist as different versions of itself on the page. Let go of the idea that it only has one story to tell you.
Later, there’ll be time for the rewrites, the less drastic, structure-altering changes. But early on, in the richness that is the beginning, you have a chance to explore all that can become.
What are some ways you reimagine your story during revision?
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About Natalia Sylvester
Born in Lima, Peru, Natalia Sylvester came to the U.S. at age four. A former magazine editor, Natalia now works as a freelance writer in Austin, Texas and is a faculty member of the low-res MFA program at Regis University. Her articles have appeared in Latina Magazine, Writer’s Digest, The Writer, and NBCLatino.com. She is the author of Chasing the Sun, named the Best Debut Book of 2014 by Latinidad and chosen as a Book of the Month by the National Latino Book Club. Her second novel, Everyone Knows You Go Home, is forthcoming from Little A in 2018.
I love revising, Natalia. It is literally a re-visioning or re-imagining as you say. And in doing so I get closer and closer to the ideal that I first imagined that somehow gets mangled when I first try my hand at a story. I’ve only had a story come to me in near perfect form a handful of times and I take them as the gift they are. The rest of the time…revision! My friend!
Thanks for sharing this. How cool to be invited to talk to a class! Yippee for both sides of the equation!
I love this: “? Shouldn’t we be thinking of revision not as a rewrite, but a reimagining?” It’s taken me three novels, but I’ve finally learned this lesson. I think. First, lots of work to go on THIS novel in the next re-imagining of it!
Thanks. I really needed that. I’ve been stuck in rewrite hell forever. And, you’re right. I should be re-imagining. I have been trying, but it never occurred to me to jump into the middle or the even the end instead of constantly beating my head against the beginning. If I had a smacks-forehead emoji, I would put it here!
“Let go of the expectation that it can only exist as different versions of itself on the page.”
Thank you for this.
I started rewriting a story that I started earlier this year a week ago. I’m amazed at how much more I want to say about this story right now. The words are so much better too.
I’ve also been doing prep for NaNoWriMo for two months already. I finished the outline over a month ago, but as I continue to imagine it, I learn more about the story. It’s not quite like rewriting because I actually haven’t written anything yet, but the more that I think about the story, the more real and better it becomes in my head. I just hope I can convey the story on paper come November 1st. But there’s always rewriting ;-).
Thank you for this, Natalia. I love how you frame the process as an exciting exploration, instead of drudgery or “loss.” I must confess that sometimes I feel dismay at the idea of “breaking” my story in revision, of having “failed” by not getting it right the first time. Even though I know OBJECTIVELY that mindset is totally not true, my emotions sometimes get the better of me, and discourage me from wanting to dig into the revision process. I think your words will help me push past that a bit.