JANBROGAN

Between the Drafts

JAN BROGAN, a journalist, is the author of the critically acclaimed Hallie Ahern mystery series set in Providence, Rhode Island. Her first novel, Final Copy, won the Drood Review of Mystery Editor’s Choice award. She has taught nonfiction, mystery writing, and screenwriting workshops.

 

 

Writers approach a new novel in many different ways. Some write extensive character biographies and outline every plot detail before they start. Others do no planning at all and talk about channeling characters who decide their own fates in the story. But no matter what kind of writer you are—a compulsive outliner or a by-the-seat-of-your-pants free spirit—you can benefit by taking an organized approach to revision.

I often encourage new writers to be as fast and loose as possible with a first draft. Lowering standards helps a writer be less self-critical and more creative. It’s impossible to get into a flow of writing, losing yourself in the story, if you are anticipating judgment and worrying too much about perfect prose or punctuation.

In some ways, writing a first draft is like weaving cloth—creating the raw material. Once you’ve got enough material, you need a pattern or plan to cut it up and sew the pieces into the garment.

The input of a writers’ group, or even self-critique, is difficult to assess when the writer is still in the midst of the first draft, working out decisions, playing with the many possibilities for plot and character development. There can be a tendency to undercorrect—reject needed input, as well as to overcorrect—change too much in a knee-jerk response.

So the question is: How do you get the necessary perspective to sort through the good and bad ideas of a first draft, as well as the good and bad criticism of chapters or scenes along the way? And what’s the most effective way to organize decision making and keep track of the changes that need to be made?

In addition to developing a comprehensive review process, I’ve learned to impose a four-act system, adapted from screenwriting, to help identify slow stretches of story that need to be tightened and scenes that need to be bigger and more climactic.

The result is a mystery that knows where it’s going and gets there at a pace that keeps the reader turning the pages. Just as every writer has a different method for writing a draft, there are many different ways to attack revision. But the system I’ve developed, which I call Between the Drafts, has worked miracles for me.

EXERCISE

Materials needed:

 

Four manila folders

 

A full pad of letter-size writing paper

 

Pens and/or pencils

1. Leave at least three days, but preferably two weeks after you finish the first draft, then print out the entire manuscript.

2. Label the tabs on the four manila folders: Act I, Act II, Act III, and Act IV.

3. Take the hard copy of the manuscript and all the materials to a comfortable chair in a quiet place to read—preferably away from wherever you wrote the first draft. (I like fireplaces in winter and screened porches or decks in summer.)

4. Divide the hard copy into four sections or acts according to the guidelines below. Each section should end at a turning point. (Don’t worry too much about exactly where to divide the manuscript; you may wind up changing it after this process is over.)

• The first act, typically twenty to thirty percent of the manuscript, is considered the setup that launches the story into motion.

• The second act, about thirty to forty percent of the manuscript, ends at the midpoint, a turning point that sends the story in a new direction.

• The third act, between thirty and forty percent of the manuscript (depending on the second act), builds the action from the reversal to the climax.

• The fourth act, ten percent or less of the manuscript, is the resolution. This section ties up loose ends, often explains how the clues add up, and what the protagonist may have learned or gained from this particular story.

5. Starting with the first chapter, read slowly and take detailed, handwritten notes on each chapter. These notes can address anything from a vague pronoun to problems with character development. Include new ideas that occur to you, for example: “X needs depth, hint at failed relationship with Z,” or “Plant access to poison here.” In the left-hand margin of the writing pad, keep track of the page number. Even if it’s a general critique for the entire chapter, note the page number where this criticism first occurred to you. Staple multiple pages together by chapter. Place in the appropriate manila folder.

The number of notes per chapter isn’t important, taking the notes by hand is. Numerous research studies have shown that handwriting stimulates different parts of the brain, and for me, somewhere between half and three-quarters of the way through this note-taking process, a miracle occurs. Suddenly, I can see through the muddle of my mistakes. I know exactly what I’m trying to say with my mystery. Each character ’s role and journey becomes clear. I have new authority, a stronger voice, and I know whether to accept or discard any criticism I’ve gotten along the way.

6. Next, go back to the computer. Tell the story as if you were sitting on a bar stool or at a lunch counter, explaining it to a friend for the first time. Don’t get bogged down in details. The point is to streamline your thinking. If there are holes in your plot, you will see them. If your book meanders, it will become clear to you. The story structure will crystallize.

7. You may now want to eliminate or add chapters or scenes, redivide your manuscript, or move chapters from one act to the next. From the synopsis and chapter notes, you will write a brief revision plan for the entire book.

Address only structural changes, or big changes that involve adding or consolidating characters, rearranging clues, or addressing theme throughout. Don’t reiterate changes already detailed in the chapter notes.

8. Between the revision plan, the synopsis, and the chapter notes, you now have a blueprint for how to rewrite your second draft. Before I start revising each act, I reread my overall revision plan. Then I pick up the chapter notes and start rewriting, checking off each note as I address the problem. Sometimes, when rewriting, I decide the note is wrong; I liked it better the original way. That’s okay, too. The process isn’t perfect.

This method may seem like a lot of work, but I’ve learned the hard way that it can save the time and heartache of endless, unsuccessful drafts.