If editing is your least favorite part of writing, this post is for you!
I will show you seven tips for editing and proofreading your rough draft and take your book to the next level.
I’ve just finished the final, final, final edits for Snow White and the Eighth Dwarf. Proofreading it was a long, laborious process, as I wrote 56K of the story last July in a rough NaNo like session. The first draft was not pretty.
Let’s face the ugly truth. You’ve spent months, maybe years, writing a book and you have a big, sloppy mess of a first draft. How do you clean it, revise it, and make it look good?
Look for inconsistencies.
Did your main character change names, eye color, or gender? Did you mention magic in the first chapter, but no one casts any spells? Does your forest setting change to a desert for no reason? Check your timeline to verify your protag and antag are on the same day. Because of the time involved in writing a book, many details can get lost. Look for inconsistencies and fix them.
Fill in the holes.
My first draft looks like a tic-tac-toe game.
I write very fast because I don’t want the bright, shiny light of inspiration to dim. Get the words down, get them down fast is my motto. Fill in the holes later. My first draft is full of XXX’s, my all-purpose placeholder for research I need to do, nameless characters (example from my current WIP: “Name1, Name2, Name3, Name4 and Name5, thank you for coming here today.”), or descriptions that need filling in (example: more here of her physical trauma xxxx.) My first draft is a tic-tac-toe game. Revising is the time to do the research, decide on the names, and fill in the holes. Continue reading →
This #ThrowbackThursday’s post is from December, 2016, where I discuss how to increase your word count.
2016’s NaNoWriMo is behind us. Officially, I wrote 56K words, slightly under the 57K I wrote in July (that was a I-need-to-finish-this-book project rather than an off-month NaNo draft). Writing at such a speed requires a different type of discipline. Here are 17 writing tips I learned that made the process easier:
1. Create a writing ritual.
Trick your mind into thinking of writing and only writing by creating a fixed environment in which to write. Whether it’s a coffee shop, a desk, or a favorite chair, always sit in the same place. Play the same music or soundtrack. Drink the same beverage. Create a bubble of little habits to train your brain so that when all is in place, there is no resistance. I sit in a big white chair in my “studio” (aka room where all my stuff is kept), play the same meditation music and close my eyes. Why closed eyes? It robs my inner editor of any excuses to interfere. My brain knows this is writing time, and that’s what I do.
2. Write. Anything.
If you’ve written yourself into a corner or fallen down a plot hole, write, even if it’s garbage. Write, “I don’t know where to go from here. If _insert main character___hadn’t done__this stupid thing__, then __this amazing thing will happen__, and he could _save the universe____.” Get your imagination working. Prime your creativity with stream-of-conscious rambling. Something will click and send you down the right road.
3. Walk away.
Recharge. Your mind won’t stop creating when you wander into the kitchen or take a short walk.
4. Set a timer.
Tagging onto point #3, give your brain a break at the 45 or 60 minute mark. All work and no breaks makes Jack a dull boy. If you’re having trouble getting started for the day, set a timer for 10 minutes. You can write for ten minutes, can’t you? It’s not daunting. Once the words start flowing, you’ll be in the zone when the timer goes off.
5. Know your words per hour count.
I write about 600 words per hour. That includes staring off into space time and where-did-I-file-that-note time. The average 1,667 words per day required by NaNoWriMo means I have to dedicate almost three hours per day to writing to stay on track.
6. Keep a spreadsheet of your daily word count.
Unless you’re writing on one MSWord document, which keeps track for you. I use Scrivener and open a new document for each scene. I mark my spreadsheet columns with date written, scene number, scene description, word count, POV character, and story day. A quick glance tells me the past event I want to reference in the current conversation took place two weeks earlier. I don’t have to stop and search through the manuscript. Less wasted time=more writing time.
7. Keep notes of future edits.
These can include research to be done; a list of secondary characters (was the housekeeper’s name Mrs. Hill or Mrs. Hunt?); character traits (why didn’t he use magic until chapter 29?); and anything else that you need to address in the editing stage.
8. Create an avatar for the main characters.
I pick celebrities as avatars for my characters and set a thumbnail on my desktop. A quick glance helps me determine their next move, a gesture, an internal thought.
9. Front load word count.
The sagging middle will happen. Plot holes will yawn. There will be days when you don’t feel like writing. Use the enthusiasm of the first few chapters to build word count.
10. Don’t expect to leave your creativity at the bedroom door.
The muse is a fickle creature. It will evaporate when you sit down at the keyboard during the day, then arrive like an Easter parade the minute your head hits the pillow.
11. Always have a pen and paper nearby.
The answer to that thorny problem always pops up at the most awkward time. Write it down. You think you’ll remember, but, believe me, you won’t.
12. Have faith in the process.
You’ve read hundreds of books. Your subconscious knows the genre inside out. Tying up loose threads and finding the perfect ending might seem unobtainable, but something deep down inside you will know the answer and cough it up.
13. Have an accountability partner.
Knowing I had to enter my daily word count on NaNoWriMo’s site AND to my Facebook partner spurned me to write when I didn’t want to.
14. Don’t backspace, don’t delete.
Every word counts. If you can’t find the perfect word, write words close to what you want to express /signify /convey, separated by a space and slash. (see what I did there?) You can use a thesaurus later.
15. Leave research and editing for another day.
It’s the whole left brain, right brain argument. You can’t create if you’re correcting. The first draft is going to be a hot mess. Go with the flow and get the ideas down. Edit the hell out of it later. I use various placeholders when I write. a. XXX is awesome to use as a placeholder. Don’t know villager number two’s name? Write xxxvillager2. Simple, easy, no brain drain. b. An * after a word means I don’t like the word and there’s a better one, but I don’t want to stop the flow* to look it up. c. * * * means there should be more to the action, description, dialogue, please fill it in later. d. ? (checkmark) (Mac alt+V) is an indicator? to indicate? you’re using an echo word. Check the thesaurus later.
16. Give yourself permission to write dreck.
My old writing group called the first draft the “vomit” draft. Throw up on the page and clean it up later. First drafts are not pretty. Mine look as if a war has been committed. I can write pretty, but it takes too long. I know my writing style, and I need deadlines to stay motivated. Other, prettier ideas sparkle and lure me away. If I write fast and ugly, the first draft gets done. Then I can turn my analytical mind loose and immerse myself in the sweet world of edits.
17. Enjoy. Celebrate.
Many, many people say, “I’d like to write a book someday”. You’re actually doing it. You’re finishing the damn book. Yay, you! You are fierce. You are amazing. Use these tips to speed through the first draft, let it sit, polish the hell out of it, send it to beta-readers and editors and proofreaders, order a cover and PUBLISH THE DAMN BOOK. Then start over.
I hope these tips help you on your writing journey. They work for me. They might not work for you. Find out what does. Every good product starts with a design. Find your writing design and create your very best. I wish you all the luck in the world!
A WRITER CAN POUR plot twists, solid conflict, steamy sex, non-stop
action, and a fluffy kitty or two into a story and still miss the heart
of the reader if the main characters in the story fail to demonstrate
some sort of character arc. Readers relate to characters through their
goals, motivations, and conflict, but also through their flaws,
disappointments, and their triumphs. Characters that fight a flaw or
inner demon and conquer it (or in a tragedy, fail to conquer it) will
touch the reader on a deeper level.
Character flaws or emotional baggage give the reader something to
relate to, and character arc, or growth, gives the reader something to
feel good about. Remember The Little Engine That Could? It’s a
simple story, but a good example of character arc. The Little Engine
couldn’t pull the big load up the hill; he was too weak. But after he
learns to believe in himself, the reader gets to cheer him all the way
to the top of the hill while he chants, “I think I can. I think I can.”
He learned to believe in his ability (growth of character), and so he
triumphs over the difficulty he faces.
In more sophisticated stories, the character arc is still the same
principle: the protagonist must overcome inner beliefs and limitations
to overcome the major obstacle blocking the successful conclusion of the
story. In a love story, the hero must often accept love is real, or he
is worthy of love. The heroine often learns to accept her feelings for a
man she pre-judged or hated. Heroines we love find out their inner
strengths. Heroes we love accept their emotional need. If neither of
them learn anything, give anything, or grow, the story feels less
satisfying than a flavor-free rice cake.
So how does one demonstrate character arc?
Certainly not by preaching.
“Brandon looked deep within himself, realized he’d never done
anything for anyone other than himself, and despised his selfishness.
Vowing to become more giving of himself, he threw himself over the
ever-weak Heather to shield her from the shrapnel.”
Makes you wonder if you’ve contracted food poisoning, doesn’t it? To
avoid nasty information dumps and unconvincing melodrama, you must begin
your character arc on the very first page in which you introduce the
character. We need a glimpse of his flaw(s) in the very beginning, and a
little pruning of his character in each plot point of the story. You
may have a great Ah-ha moment somewhere in the story where the
protagonist sees herself in a new light and turns over a new leaf, but
there needs to be a lot of steps leading up to that sudden flash of
light—a slow chipping away that exposes the problem more and more.
How your character changes can happen in a number of ways, and may
depend on his or her personality. Here are a few shift types to
Core Believer to Backslider
You aren’t likely to have a person who is passionately communistic
suddenly become an entrepreneur. Change like this does not happen in a
flash. It would have to be forced by a need to survive or help someone
he loves survive in a world where his system has let him down. By the
time this guy’s communist beliefs have succumbed to his need to survive,
it will be hard for him or the reader to know what he believes, and no
matter where your reader stands on the issue, the character’s loss of
grounding will speak to the reader’s heart. Left in a state of betrayal
of belief, the story is a tragedy. If you bring the character to embrace
his new belief, you can attain a tender triumph.
Who am I?
In this shift of paradigm, the protagonist holds one belief, and
through a course of eye opening experiences (and possibly a big upset to
make them see it), decides they were in error. In this shift, the
protagonist jumps ship from one belief to a new one. There is no doubt
left in the protagonist’s or the reader’s mind where the character is in
their belief. Most love story heroes fall into this category; they
start out believing love is not real and end up believing they can’t
live without it. You’ll also find this type of shift in a story of
religious conversion like that of Saul on the road to Damascus.
A twist on this character arc is when the change comes in the
beginning of the story, surprising the character. The reader then gets
to witness the cementing of the new belief and the character’s
adjustment to it.
Growing a Spine
Here we have the protagonist who knows who he or she is, but never
had the opportunity or reason to do something about it. Like the
difference between dough and bread, this character still has the same
basics inside of her, but the story brings her true potential to light
for her and the reader. It’s a feel good character arc, and one that
lets the reader appreciate the quiet guy types—think: Indiana Jones.
The Crushed Grape
This one takes a while to develop, but it can result in a subtle yet glorious character arc.
Like a crushed grape can become a stunningly wonderful wine, some of
us rise from tragedy as far better people than we were before.
Remember your ten-year class reunion? If it was typical, it was one
major session of “measuring up.” Where are you living? What do you do?
Did you hear about so-in-so’s big break? I’ve heard of people who rent
cars to impress former classmates. But something changes by the
twenty-year reunion. People want to know about your life, your kids, and
they share some of the disappointments and losses they’ve suffered.
People tend to become less superficial and more open to others after
they’ve lived in the real world long enough.
If you want to demonstrate a character who has become a fine vintage
of humanity, it’s going to take time. Crushed grapes take time to
ferment. They may go through some stages that are decidedly nasty, and
they need time and care to make it to their best potential. So, unless
your story is good enough to warrant the length of War and Peace,
you’re going to need to introduce the tragedy that crushes your
protagonist early in the story, possibly before the story begins.
Be careful how you portray your character’s recovery.
For instance, don’t give your reader a heroine who has suffered rape
in the first chapter and suddenly make her fearless and indomitable two
days later. By the end of the book she might overcome a lot of fears,
but this isn’t going to happen right away.
Another mistake writers make is to change the character’s personality
in their effort to show their growth. Don’t do it. If your heroine is a
complete bitch in the beginning, remember one little tragedy is not
going to change this. Along life’s path, big and little things can
temper her bitchiness, but she won’t be a believable character if there
isn’t a shred of the shrew left at the very end. In Driving Miss Daisy,
we see Miss Daisy slowly but surely change from an arrogant, bitchy,
elitist with a spine of steel to a semi-bitchy woman of privilege with a
spine of steel who loves the man she never wanted to have in her life.
See? She didn’t change completely, but she softened, ripened, and become
something glorious in the end.
Now and then we see a character gone bad. The boy who finally makes
good on the bad things people always thought of him in the first place.
The cop who became corrupt. The woman who leaves her children to pursue
the love of a man. This change in character can come about in any way.
The result is a character who has succumbed to some baser emotion.
Sometimes we see them as tragic, sometimes triumphant. Jack in Lord of the Flies becomes so cruel and evil-minded he seems tragically beyond redemption. However, in The Count of Monte Cristo, we see a man who started out as a nice guy revel in revenge—and we can’t help but cheer him on.
You can mess with a reader’s head with a reverse character arc.
In many stories we have what is called the Big Black Moment. It’s the
moment when the heroine thinks all is lost, and there is no hope. The
monster has returned from the depths and has her in his clutches, she’s
going to die in the way she’s always feared the most—but wait. Somehow,
she manages to free a hand and clasp onto that same knife that killed
her father and plunge it into the monster’s heart. She had nightmares in
the beginning of this story. She could never get away from the monster.
But now she has beaten him despite her fear, despite her feminine
weaknesses, despite her uncontrollable urge to eat chocolate all the
Motivation, baby. Somewhere in the course of the story she has
changed. It could be someone has taught her a great deal about herself
and her strengths. It could be she has fallen in love and love has given
her greater motivation to live, survive, and overcome. Or, somewhere in
the story she was sick of fear or weakness, and she now refuses to
It doesn’t matter what the motivation of the hero is, it matters that the reader can believe it.
Would a tough guy killer care about the kitten caught up in the tree?
He might. Maybe he has a soft heart for animals from the very beginning
of the story, or maybe that kitten happens to belong to his little girl
whom he adores. It’s also possible the kitten looks like one he had as a
kid. Make sure to give your reader a damned good reason to believe your
hero’s change of heart or shift from his or her normal behavior.
You can use your character arc as the overall theme of your story,
but it isn’t necessary. A story could have an overarching theme of
forgiveness while your main character’s greatest growth is overcoming
alcohol addiction. She may experience the forgiveness of others, but her
growth may have little to do with it. In my opinion, a story gathers
more layers of interest when the theme and the character’s growth is not
the same subject.
If you want to rip out your readers’ heart, the character must either fail to grow —like Scarlet in Gone With The Wind,
or the character may experience all the growth and choose to go against
his or her new self in order to gain a greater good for others. Tragedy
is much more overt when the good guy dies or fails, but it is equally
disturbing when the character arc is missing, reversed, or when it fails
to serve the character’s interests.
The above article is an excerpt from The Plot Thickens: 21 Ways to Plot Your Novel