Rewriting and Self Editing
By John S McCord
(Revised August 23, 2000)

References:

I. Introduction

    1. Rewriting and self editing provoke resistance from the novice, indicating failure to see writing as a process rather than a singular action.
    2. "I appear before you with great self confidence, because I am sure you will not harm your writing by doing anything I recommend." (Examine the preceding sentence to point out its two distinct interpretations. This is probably the most difficult snag for a writer to avoid.)
    3. Assumptions:
  1. You understand that rewriting can not take place until something is already written. Nothing can be improved until it exists.
  2. Talented people, especially highly schooled professionals, sometimes fear writing, a problem which springs from the desire to get things right the first time. Skillful writing seldom springs from inspiration; thrilling stories come into the world rough and ugly, like an unpainted, untuned new car. Just think how few steps need be omitted or poorly executed on the production line for a splendidly conceived automobile to look and run like junk. Writing is a production process, with hundreds of large and small adjustments.
  3. Most people who call themselves writers fall into three groups: talkers who don’t write (lovable fakes), walking rule books who seldom get anything but bits, pieces, and incidentals published (mechanics), and the smallest group of all, writers (creative artists). Essentially, the major difference between mechanics and artists is the constant quest by the mechanic for a "smart pill," the right way to do everything rather than the creative, unique, pioneering way. All who call themselves writers, regardless of how they fall into categories, strengthen and value each other as colleagues.

II. Research.

How much do you really know?

The research requirement seems to surprise newly hatched mechanics entering the world of fiction. Lack of knowledge spawns ridiculous plots. Ignorance breeds scenes in which people conduct themselves in ways absurd and irrational, fire guns not yet invented, wear garments not yet designed, and utter slang not yet devised.

Sooner or later, writing fiction without careful research attracts two deadly missiles. One blasts away the writer’s cloak, revealing his ignorance. The other shoots down the story, which crashes, burns, and emits a terrible odor.

Self editing is impossible without study.

III. Self Editing.

An effective method to examine your own work must be based upon a foundation of knowledge and an orderly, structured approach. No method will succeed unsupported by a sincere desire to attain ever higher levels of skill. A satisfied writer resists change. For the skillful writer, this resistance to change is called closure——the manuscript has been repeatedly revisited and revised and is deemed ready to mail. For the egotistical mechanic, resistance to change probably arises upon completion of the first draft.

The headings listed below provide a structured approach through which a writer may develop an effective procedure for self editing.

  1. Analyze your work in terms of the Rhetorical Square. Persona, Purpose, Argument, and Audience.
  2. Read three pages of a style manual as part of your everyday startup procedure.
  3. Ask specific questions of yourself. Each question represents a form of self—challenge.
  1. Have I searched f or all forms of the verb ‘to be’ and reworded to use stronger verbs wherever advantageous?
  2. Do I need page breaks in my manuscript, or am I simply too lazy to write proper transitions?
  3. Have I used passive voice? Why?
  4. Have I checked for 'ing' and 'ly' words? (They are perfectly good words if not overused.) Especially watch starting a sentence with an ‘ing word:

    5. "Running along the sidewalk, he paused to rub his knee." What is he doing, running, pausing, or rubbing? Try to picture a person doing all three at the same time. It helps to put only one idea into a sentence.

  5. Are my characters all bad or all good, thus flat?
  6. Does the scene I’m reviewing add to the plot or to the characterization? If neither, why is it here?
  7. Do I have any sentences or paragraphs which seem too long? How long is too long?
  8. Can I read this aloud comfortably? If not, where do I stumble or run out of breath?

    9. I bought a recorder to listen to myself reading. I hear opportunities as well as mistakes.

    You think, "How boring!"

    Bored? If you’re bored listening to your own material, how do you think others feel when reading it?

  9. Did I use sentence fragments carelessly? Do I know one when I see it? Do I know when sentence fragments may not only be forgiven but applauded? Long fragments are seldom forgiven; they simply look too much like errors.
  10. Did I overuse favorite words? I watch for he, she, I, and, but, that, then, as, suddenly——and especially, there was.
  11. Did I overuse names in dialogue?
  12. Did I overuse attributions (he or she said) in dialogue?
  13. Did I use silly attributions? She smiled, "Ten bucks." A person cannot smile words. He sneered, "Ain’t worth two." Folks can’t sneer words. At least, that’s what we’re told. I elect to have my characters do these things once in a while. If you do too, do it on purpose, not because you’re asleep at the keyboard. You can dodge this bullet by putting periods after the action verb to make it look like this.

    14. She smiled. "Ten bucks."
    He sneered. "Ain’t worth two."

  14. Did I fall into a grotesquery? "She sat with her head in her hands, her eyes on the floor."

    15. I’m told that good writers don’t write stuff like this. You be a good writer and leave this to me; I like this kind of bad writing. Examples of this type are found throughout English literature, both classical and modern. The point: this is an artistic decision--be alert to grotesqueries which can startle and amuse the reader in the middle of your tragic scene.

  15. Do I have dialogue, which is so important it reveals character or serves as a basis for future action? Or is my dialogue so trivial as to have no impact? Does my reader receive a reward for paying attention to what my characters say? Does my dialogue become a lecture? Who’s really talking here, me or my character? Conversation is trivia; dialogue is drama! Mere conversation fails to meet the standard that prevails for dialogue.
  16. Do events in my scenes cause or justify or at least set up subsequent scenes? A book strung together by cause—effect or action—reaction events will likely make sense, seem real to the reader.
  17. Do I foreshadow events without letting the cat out of the bag prematurely? Why use foreshadowing?
  18. Do I bore the reader with lengthy descriptions, pretty writing but boring reading? What impact does the setting, the surroundings, have on my story to deserve so much nitter—nattering? Am I writing a novel or a travel brochure?

    19. Robert Newton Peck recommends: save the tube from a roll of toilet paper. Try looking through it to find representative items. Often, the flavor of a whole room, street, or landscape can be obtained with a glance through a tube. You don’t have to describe every single thing. Sometimes, you might do better by putting your nose or your ear to the tube.

    Remember, when you stop to describe something, you have stopped. Gauge the length of a description against how long you think your reader is willing for the story to halt. Sometimes, you want to slow down and smell the roses, a matter of pacing, but when readers start skipping down the page looking for action to resume, you can bet description (or narration or introspection or sequel) became boredom. Readers seldom skip dialogue; at least somebody is doing something, even if it’s only chitchat.

  19. Do I like the mixture of description and dialogue?
  20. Have I "tightened" my work by removing superfluous and redundant words and phrases? He shrugged his shoulders. What else can he shrug? She nodded her head. What else can she nod? It was a terrible disaster. What other kind is there? Did you mean to use calamity, catastrophe, or cataclysm?
  21. Did I catch modifiers used to cover my laziness in failing to select the best word? Watch f or use of quite, a bit, very, somewhat, kind of, sort of, and similar words used to reinforce a weak word when what is really needed is a better one. Compare very tired with exhausted, quite angry with furious, somewhat angry with irritated, ran slowly with trotted or jogged. Watch for suddenly, as in: Suddenly, he tripped and fell. Try to trip and fall slowly. Suddenly, a shot rang out.
  22. Did I miss opportunities to use all five senses?
  23. Did I slip out of viewpoint? If so, does it matter? Usually, it matters if you did it by accident. Probably, viewpoint confuses more new writers than any other challenge.
  24. Did I use creative spelling? Fish = ghoti?
  25. Have I examined every preposition to see if it leads to a redundant or superfluous phrase?
  26. Did I repeat the same word in a sentence or paragraph too close to the prior time I used it?
  27. Was I awake when I wrote this? Did he smoke a Camel and then grind out a Winston under his heel?
  28. Do I really expect people to believe all this? Do all my characters have good reasons to act the way they do? Have I considered interior and exterior motivations, internal and external goals?
  29. Do I know what colleagues mean when they complain that I’m telling rather than showing?
  30. Have I used multiple punctuation marks like a grade school child?

    31. "What?!" he cried. "A flaw in my masterpiece, you say?! Oh, no!!!!!"
    "Yes!!" she screamed. "Ha, ha, ha!!!"

  31. Did I start my work with a hook?
  32. Most basic of all, is the issue involved in my work of sufficient gravity to merit the words I have used? Sally’s intense desire to win a place on the glee club might do for a poignant short story, but that goal is a slim foundation for a novel.

IV. Closure.

When you finish, ask yourself, "For every so—called ‘rule’ I have broken, is there a purpose based upon creative artistry?" Stated another way, if I’ve done something unusual, does it work? Does it create the emotional impact I desire without attracting attention to itself? A writing style should not attract notice. If it does, it distracts the reader’s attention from the story. Nobody says, "I just read good writing," and nobody says, "I just wrote good writing." You want your readers to say, "I just read a great story." That’s when you know you did it right. Then you can say the proudest words of all. "I wrote that."