Posts tagged ‘learning’

August 30th, 2010

Revision notes

by Johanna Harness

I’m working on a big revision of Claire Morgane Almost Saves The World and my overall goal is to simplify the major plot through-line and tighten the action in the book.  In doing so, I’m eliminating some entire chapters where there are now only a few critical bits of material remaining.  Those critical bits must find their way into other parts of the book, preferably by replacing less-important material.

My goal is to create scenes that serve more than one purpose in the book.  If a scene advances the plot, that’s not enough.  It should also reveal character development or add clues to the subplot or contribute to world-building.  Every scene must do more without becoming overly complicated.  Elegant trimming and replacement is more difficult than it looks!

So far in this revision I’ve used a shrunken manuscript to identify major plot points and subplot points in the book—and also to identify those sections that can be removed.  Next, I went through the entire manuscript using the tracking features in Word, making notes throughout.

When I deleted a scene, I evaluated its current purpose and used the shrunken manuscript to identify a place I might achieve the same purpose elsewhere in the book.  Before eliminating the scene, I added notes to the target chapter.

I’m now to a point where I need to make sure all these details fit where I’ve moved them.  I don’t want to polish a scene and work on transitions into the next, only to discover I have the action in the wrong order.

I’m using large note cards for this stage.  Since I’m revising from a manuscript with lots of notes, not everything needs to be included on these cards.  The cards are my reminder of the big picture:

  • What is the purpose of this chapter?
  • How does each scene work toward that purpose?

For instance, in the first chapter, I need to show what Claire wants most. By keeping that in mind, I’m able to look at every detail of a scene and run it through that filter.  I’m not looking at heavy-handed changes, but the subtle things.  How does her awareness of environmental collapse influence the way she sees the sky and the clouds?  The big note card will be my reference as I’m rewriting specific scenes.

I will also be leaving lots of blank space on the cards so I can add colored sticky notes to each.  The sticky notes will track character development as well as tracking the continuum between clues and revealed material.

Because I’m touching so much in this revision, I need to keep track of the big picture as I move forward.  I know some people are able to do this without all the structural supports, but I need the scaffolding.  When I’m in the details of a scene, I get lost in the mind of my character—the pain and the passion and the immediacy of a specific event.  I absolutely need the reminders so I’m writing to the book and not just the scene.

When I look back at the revisions of this book in the last year, I see clearly how much I’ve developed as a writer.  A year ago a revision of this size would have scared me.  Now, not so much.  If I can make the book better, I’m in.

August 14th, 2010

Reflections on WD Interview

by Johanna Harness

Jane Friedman recently interviewed me for her Writer’s Digest blog, There Are No Rules.  What an amazing and wonderful experience!  The feedback from this interview has been overwhelming.  My website hits that one day went from my average 1500 hits to over 11,000!  Um, wow.  Just wow.  My stack of #amwriting bios to add to the directory?  Well, it’s bigger.  (I’m working through a couple different possibilities to get help shrinking the stack.)  Thank you so much, Jane, for this opportunity.

I look back at the interview and ask myself if I managed to say the things I wanted to say. I know I talked a lot about process and experience, but I don’t think I connected this with success and dignity.

Before we’re published, writers too-often associate no-answers with failure instead of progress.  I’m not sure when we learn this, but we’re not born that way.  Just look at kids learning to walk.  They don’t fall down once and say, “Well to hell with that. I tried.”  (Or, you know, whatever the toddler version of that would be.)  No, they wail in frustration sometimes, but they always have at it again.

Yet, as writers, we often don’t have the resilience of toddlers.  A single rejection is like a stumble.  “How many stumbles?” we ask.  And, of course, the answer is, “as many as it takes.”  Do toddlers stop and analyze and blame the floor and the furniture and the people and the dog for their fall?  Not in my experience.  They may wail, but they also adapt with equal passion.

I know one little girl who is really expressive when she adapts. You can see in her eyes when she gets a new idea. Maybe if she grabs the dog’s hair, he’ll jerk forward and pull her to her feet!  Yeah!  So what if he drags her across the floor and her great idea smashes into the coffee table with her?  She adapts again. Hey!  Coffee table!  She pulls herself up. . .

So yeah, I’m not sure when we start to associate learning with failure, but I am certain it’s counter-productive to everything we’re trying to achieve.

What happens when we choose to treat ourselves and our writing paths with dignity?  What happens when we see each stumble as a chance to adapt and try something new?  How often do you give yourself credit for all you’re learning?

Success isn’t an arrival destination.  It’s a path.  It’s about owning your experiences and adapting and really engaging with your dreams. It’s very likely the path you’re walking right now.

So on a bad day, when you’re feeling a little too beat up by your falls, allow yourself that one thought:  “Maybe this is what success looks like.”  Then adapt.


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