Part I
Editing your novel
1
Getting started
When you decide to pursue your writing professionally, things get serious. But there are plenty of insider tricks you can use to keep your energy high and your creative juices flowing. By thinking carefully about genre whilst keeping your Big Idea in mind, you can clarify your vision for the novel and improve your chances of successfully targeting readers. If you start the editing process with this level of focus, the rest should follow smoothly.
So youâve written a novelâŚ
âŚOr maybe youâre in the middle of editing one; or youâre just about to begin a first draft. The chances are, if youâve picked up this book, youâre serious about writing and you donât need teaching how to âbe a writerâ. Youâre thinking about taking it to the next level â hopefully, publication.
There are many reasons people write, and whilst publication/financial reward tends to be high on the list, itâs not always the biggest motivation, at least initially. Though everyoneâs heard about authors whoâve hit the big time (at some point most writers allow themselves to daydream about success â and why not?!) these tend to be the exception rather than the rule. Authors write, first and foremost, because theyâre inspired: like most creative endeavours, itâs something youâre driven to do.
But the next step, becoming good at it, demands a mixture of imagination, talent, hard work, and craft. The craft is what this section of the book aims to teach: the ability to analyse what youâve produced with an objective eye; the potential problems to watch out for, and some options for how to fix them.
This book can be used at any stage of the writing process: as a set of guidelines and tools to enable you to start writing from scratch, or as a set of principles to follow when working back through your text and redrafting. Wherever the techniques and tools are applied, you will be using publishing-level principles to produce writing you can be proud of.
Throughout the book, we illustrate some of the techniques by reference to other published works â these are all listed at the back of the book should you wish to investigate them further.
Whatâs the Big Idea?
If youâre thinking ahead to publication, youâve probably done some research and submitted your book a few times already. You might be starting to realize how market-driven the industry is; the extent to which publishers need to know where what youâve written might fit on their lists and, eventually, in bookshops. And the bottom line: how well it might sell. It can be hard, in these circumstances, to hold onto your original reasons for writing: your passion, your motivation, your Big Idea.
The term high concept is often used to describe a novel that feels genuinely fresh and ground-breaking; that publishers and readers simply canât ignore. However, itâs not a quality you can force or copy, so itâs best to focus on exploring an idea thatâs close to your heart. Sometimes studying trends can be helpful, but publishing timescales are so long that whatâs fashionable now might be saturated by the time your book makes it to the shelves (a year to 18 months in the future; longer if youâre still looking for an agent). But if your novel is born from a genuine love for the subject and characters, this will shine through in the writing even if the subject isnât currently popular.
Writers are often asked where they get their inspiration, and generally itâs a difficult question to answer, because thereâs no magic formula. You might be having a conversation about something stupid your dog did, and suddenly thereâs a picture book concept sparkling in your mind. You might be reflecting on the death of a loved one and find yourself dreaming about a parallel universe where people canât die. Great ideas come from a combination of experience, observation, and imagination, so the best idea to work on is the idea thatâs wholly YOURS â the one that only you could have written.
That said, you donât have to have lived through something yourself to be able to write about it â sometimes basing your fiction on fact can make the act of writing harder â but you do have to be able and willing to put yourself in someone elseâs place. Perhaps the real pre-requisite for writing fiction is a having a knack for watching, understanding, and unpicking the world around you: an interest in what makes people tick; what makes them extraordinary.
Knowing your genre
You may have already given this some thought. But perhaps not â just as some new authors begin without the end goal of publication in sight, so many will start out without a clear sense of what theyâre writing. The idea and the characters were what got them started; considerations like plot and genre came second.
Having a clearly defined genre can be helpful when it comes to pitching to publishers and booksellers; on the other hand, breaking the mould can result in a book that feels new and zeitgeisty. However, itâs a question of making an informed choice. If your book feels like a little bit of a lot of things â commencing as romantic fiction, dipping into fantasy, concluding with a supernatural twist â this can be a sign of poor planning and lack of market understanding. And you risk missing out on tapping into a genre audience: imagine if youâre a fan of romance coming to this book, only to be confounded by the direction it takes. You probably wonât recommend it and might even give it a bad review.
Just as a lack of genre definition within one book can be off-putting, so an author who dabbles in too many genres within their oeuvre can ring alarm bells. Authors who submit a crime novel but mention that they also write comedy for children and historical fiction might appear to be casting their net wide in the hope that at least one of these projects will appeal. This can suggest a lack of faith in your writing and commitment to your chosen genre/audience. If you do get one of these books accepted, your publisher may expect you to continue writing in the same vein for a few years â thatâs how you build a fan base. So you â and they â need to know that you are writing what you most want to write.
The best way to decide on genre is usually to think about what you prefer to read. Research and background reading will be a pleasure rather than a chore; youâll already understand the demands and conventions of the market; youâll probably have an innate sense of how existing authors get it right and wrong. If you donât like, or know, your chosen genre, this can make it difficult to see what works and why. Weâve spoken with authors whoâve decided (for instance) to write childrenâs fiction despite having never read a contemporary childrenâs book. Their knowledge of the genre is based on what they read when they were young, so itâs now very dated. Or, sometimes authors tell us that they donât want to muddy their own story by reading too much. Thatâs a reasonable argument, but if you havenât read recent fiction in your genre, how can you know whether your writing is likely to appeal to its current readership?
This doesnât mean you canât write in a genre youâre unfamiliar with, but youâll need to do a lot more research. If youâre inspired by an idea that seems most at home in the sci-fi section, but youâre not a sci-fi fan, you have the choice either to make your premise fit into another genre â which can be uncomfortable â or to make yourself as much of an expert as you can in that area, bearing in mind the myriad subgenres that often comprise one major genre. Resources like fanzines, journals, online enthusiasts, conventions etc can be almost as useful as published novels.
You may be reading this section with a sinking heart, realizing that you havenât given the genre much consideration. It may not matter â sometimes genre blurring can be good, and certain genres are more forgiving of crossover material than others. With the growth of online writing media, writers and readers are increasingly making their own rules. Fifty Shades of Grey started out as Twilight fanfiction, and ended up spawning a huge erotica subgenre, and, indeed, fanfiction of its own.
But letâs say you decide that you need to pin down your bookâs genre more securely. Perhaps the main thrust is cosy crime, and there are a couple of scenes which, now you think about it, seem too gory for this market. Can you cut or amend the sections that donât fit? Or, maybe you wanted to write a gritty thriller but realize that the language and tone youâve used feels too florid and sentimental. Again thatâs a relatively straightforward editorial process: making sure your lexicon is in line with your genre. Often, itâs a question of choosing a primary genre â the strongest element in the book â and letting that guide your structure and focus, with cross-genre material playing a secondary role.
Ultimately, if the story works brilliantly then itâs not going to matter if it breaks a few rules. However, knowing what those rules are means you can be clear about what you hope to achieve. Genre isnât just a tiresome set of strictures designed to make books fit into pigeon holes: itâs a way of setting expectations and (sometimes) of turning those expectations on their head. Itâs a way of defining stories that puts your fictional world in context, so you can feed off the imaginations of the wonderful writers whoâve come before you. And, if youâre successful, itâs a way of tapping into a huge and loyal fan base to boost your sales.
âThe dog ate my homeworkâ, and other excuses
Whether youâre just beginning a new draft or youâre already editing, it can seem like a mammoth task (and thatâs before you start the process of submitting, rejection, filtering feedback, rewriting and resubmission). Writing may be something you love passionately, but as soon as you start taking it seriously it can begin to feel like hard work. Thatâs the reality of wanting to master your craft.
It sounds counter-intuitive to find reasons to avoid something that you love, but it happens a lot, even to successful published writers. The human brain is remarkably good at refusing to do as itâs told. Fortunately there are habits you can get into, tricks you can use, and good working practices to help you maintain energy and focus, and give your writing the time it deserves.
Make space for yourself
Virginia Woolf wrote memorably about this need in A Room of Oneâs Own. You might not require a whole room, but you do want a place where the chatter of modern life â children, laundry, partners, TVs, phones, emails â can be kept at bay.
Write
This might sound obvious, but itâs amazing how many authors will say, but I havenât written anything for a while⌠Even if you only have half an hour, even if you have nothing to say, do it every day, whether you want to or not. Make it a part of your daily routine; get your family on side so that they support you and treat your writing time as sacrosanct.
Find a writing group or buddy
Writing can be lonely, and forging links with other writers can keep your inspiration and energy high. They can give you feedback (though the same rules apply as to getting feedback from family and friends â not all feedback is created equal, and for this reason itâs useful if a writing group contains a mix of professional and non-professional authors); they can brainstorm ideas with you; and be your cheerleaders. Often, the very fact that someone is expecting you to have written something by this time next week will force you to do it! You can find a list of UK writersâ groups at www.nawg.co.uk, check with your local library or bookshop to see if they know of one in your area, or start your own.
Set yourself goals
These donât have to be big: it might be as achievable as write a chapter by the end of this month or as ambitious as finish a novel by Christmas. It might be setting yourself a target word count for each dayâs writing. Donât worry if you think youâre churning out garbage â thatâs what the editing process is for. The main thing is to take the mountain youâre trying to climb and turn it into manageable hillocks.
Trick your brain
Try finishing your dayâs work in the middle of a scene that youâre loving â youâll come back to it the next day raring to go. Or, if youâve finished a scene, start a new one that you can then rejoin afresh. If youâre at the editing stage, donât feel you have to start at the start â ease yourself into the revision with some new material you know you need to write. This will help you recapture the excitement you felt when you were creating the original draft.
Listen to your emotions
If youâre finding a scene difficult, it might be because itâs heading in the wrong direction. Maybe the character is acting in a way that isnât true to them because you need them to for the sake of plot. If something feels wrong, thereâs a good chance that it is wrong.
Ride your energy
Experienced authors sometimes edit as they go, but when youâre still learning itâs often better to maintain momentum rather than stopping too frequently to read over and change what youâve written. (For this reason, it can also be counterproductive to seek feedback too early.) On the other hand, if youâve been working on the same thing for a while, perhaps over several drafts, and your enthusiasm is waning, donât force it: take a break, and work on something different. If youâre not feeling passionate about the idea this may come through in the writing.
Attend a writing course or workshop, or seek professional feedback
There are many writing courses, consultancies and assessment services, often of varying quality, so do some research before settling on one that feels right for the level youâre at, the genre youâre writing in, and the way you like to work (some services involve little or no written feedback and some provide detailed editorial notes; some involve a read-through of the entire manuscript and some donât; some automatically offer face-time and for some this costs extra). Going to conferences can also be a good way of meeting other writers, getting yourself and your writing into the public arena, and connecting with the industry.
Enter competitions
These are daunting, but a useful proving ground for both your work and your resilience. The more you submit, the more accustomed youâll get to rejection and receiving criticism, and the more youâll begin to treat it as an exercise in professionalism rather than a personal, emotional rollercoaster. And ...