The Best Writing is Good Rewriting

Moving from the first to the second to the umpteenth draft is a slow and winding process. Sometimes we love it, seeing our writing transform, clearing away the debris of extra words, shifting our ideas into a clearer order–sometimes we hate it, when we’re tinkering, perfectionizing, wondering if the changes we persist at make any difference now at all.

But it is the revision that creates great writing. The first draft is a brilliant surge of material and ideas, but even when planned out ahead of time, the first draft can lack focus. It is weighed down with superfluous detail, hidden back-grottos of info-dumping. Buried in that mass, I know, is the heart of the story I am trying to tell, but it requires thoughtful sifting through to let it glow.

When I taught creative writing classes in Minnesota, my constant goal in revision was to help students see that big changes to their writing would have big effects. Students’ natural urge was to hold the first draft as sacred, and tinker here and there with words or sentences. Rarely did students readily embark upon a vast rewrite, to deeply alter the structure, voice, or other broad authorial choices in their work. And I can see this urge in myself too–when I finish that first draft, it feels like gold sometimes. It isn’t until I really begin the hard revision process that I become aware of what is not working, of what broad changes can make possible.

One of the most successful revision activities I used with students is one I also use myself in various forms. The idea’s core is, rather than making changes within the original draft, write a revised version as a new text.

Rewriting: a technique for deeper, more holistic revisions

Step 1: Read deeply

Begin by reading the first draft carefully, thoughtfully. If you already have ideas of what changes you want to make, write down notes for yourself. If a critique partner or beta reader has given you feedback, examine it carefully, considering what parts of the text are working well and which are not.

Step 2: Rewrite

Turn to a new page or open a new document. Begin rewriting the text with the ideas from your reading in mind.

When I do this with students, I ask them to hide the original draft from themselves. Close that window or shut the notebook. By doing this, it’s impossible to copy the old draft word for word. Resist the urge to copy–instead, draw the best ideas back from your mind.

When I rewrite myself, I typically use a split-screen, showing myself the old and new draft side by side. I often find I do a lot of re-ordering of existing material–I pull a buried sentence up to the top of a paragraph, delete its fellows, write new material to frame it differently. Yet even here, I avoid the copy-paste. I type the sentence out afresh, and invariably I make small changes here and there. Try both methods. See what works for you.

Step 3: Reread the new draft

I used to ask students to reread both the original and the rewritten draft of the passage they were working with and reflect on how the writing changed. I asked students to judge which version of the text they felt was stronger. Almost invariably, they chose the rewritten version. It was richer, truer to the vision in their minds, they said.

In my own writing, I reread the new draft for effect–what is the emotional resonance of each sentence? How do the ideas move from one on to the next. Are there valuable elements of the original draft that I have lost and want to reinsert? What new problems am I seeing now with fresh eyes? Sometimes I will later do another session of re-writing, or at this point I’ll just work within the rewritten draft.

Why does rewriting work better than revising within the original draft?

Writing is a series of large and minute choices. Each word, the structure of each sentence, the resonance of a particular image or metaphor, the choice of narrator, of tense, of where to begin and end–these decisions are all intimately linked together. The problem with in-document revisions is that they try to take a scalpel to the text, change a particular element while leaving others intact. But the elements of the text cannot be truly separated from one another–a change in the ordering of a paragraph here will necessitate different sentence structures and word choices there.

Rewriting on a blank canvas requires us to consider all of those decisions anew. If we are to make the same choices, we have to consciously add them back into the draft. This helps us get past the inertia of not wanting to change what’s already adequate. If we borrow the adage, good is the enemy of great, often it is that adequately-functioning paragraph that is weighing the text down. It needs to go, or it needs new focus, less or more or different details. Rewritten, it might sing.

What revision techniques work well for you? How do you move from a first to a final draft?

Continuing my thinking from last week, I’m going to take a break from blogging next weekend, see how that goes. I’ll be back in two weeks with another post. Best wishes for the coming fortnight,
Jimmy