ReVISIONing the editing process
Who's afraid of a little editing? 🫣
My approach to editing has always been very rule-based. In grade school, you learn that edits come after your draft. Editing is when you strive for precision, clarity, and perfection.
For editing a book, I understood editing to embody two major layers:
Macro level/developmental editing—does the story make sense as a whole?
Micro level—line edits. Cut, remove, tighten.
Feeling stuck and confused
I never thought I’d say this, but I’ve reached a point in writing my memoir where I could just write forever. I could keep happily writing, as long as I don’t have to think about the daunting task of editing. Now that I’m more than 150,000 words in, I’m like, crap, stop writing and go back and refine.
Each morning I drag my feet because it’s so much to read over. When I re-read my scenes, I’m grappling with the following problems:
Certain scenes are starting to feel pointless. When I wrote it, I didn’t take enough time to stop and reflect on why I wrote it. In some of the best memoirs I’ve read, every word is intentional, almost like poetry. (A great example of this is in the memoir by Gail Caldwell, “Let’s Take the Long Way Home.” I wrote about it in last week’s newsletter.)
Too much narration. Is it interesting or is it boring? Am I being too whiny?
If I’m not even fully sure how to resolve these issues, how can I edit them? Or… is there more I should be thinking about?
I kept thinking about this each morning and I could feel the resistance growing each day. So I paused for a moment on the whole editing thing.
I have this habit of wanting to find a solution ASAP, but with age, I’m finding that not doing anything is perfectly okay.
I figured maybe this editing thing is a common problem for writers, so I just kept writing and refining as best I could, skipping over parts that felt too daunting.
Redefining how I think about editing
During this time, I happened to be listening to one of my favorite writing podcasts, “Write Minded,” hosted by my current writing teacher, Brooke Warner. The episode featured Peter Ho Davies, author of “The Art of Revision: The Last Word.” (I definitely need to read his book.)
Davies said that editing is more of a reVISIONing process and less about the order writing then editing and butchering of words. His insight made me reconsider my entire notion of editing and let go of the rules I was taught as a kid. Maybe I need to expand the way I define it. Perhaps I’m being too rigid when it comes to what editing even means.
Once I became more aware of this, I was more open to trying new methods to think through my scenes (and edit). I discovered that I’m now more interested in how each scene improves (or doesn’t) and why.
These are a mix of takeaways from the podcast and things I’m learning from my own experiments.
Brainstorming while editing? Say what.
Davies talked about using editing as a time to think and even brainstorm. This struck me as totally backward, shattering all the truths I held on to about editing.
While I’m still cutting out parts that I know are totally irrelevant, I’m now leaning into the ones that feel hazy. The ones that make me stop and think, “Wait, why is this in here?”
Normally, I’d automatically remove these parts into my “cuts folder” (the place where words go to die) and move on. But now, I ask myself why I felt compelled to add this scene in the first place.
Then, I do a mini-brainstorm and write out a few sentences about why I thought it would work in this section or why it was meaningful to include. I make a list with bullets. I realized this approach is also in line with writing more uselessly, something I wrote about in a previous newsletter.
After the mini-brainstorm, I add a bookmark to this section with a comment so I can easily go back to it. (I use Scrivener but you could certainly do this in Google Docs or Word too.)
Re-understanding memories
In this new approach, I’m also returning to certain scenes (usually dramatic or big moments in my manuscript) to see if I can extract their meaning differently.
On the podcast, Davies said something really interesting—when we think about our memories and stories, we are certain we know what they mean. But each time we revisit them and retell them to others, the meaning starts to shift, evolve, and grow.
This is definitely true in my own experience of editing, especially during the dark times of my life. What I once believed to be true, I’m now picking apart and examining in a different light. A good example is the way I thought my parents coddled and spoiled my brother as a child and adult. In many ways they did, but as I kept writing about it, I realized they were just trying to be supportive and loving.
According to Davies, “This is the revision process. Rewriting is about re-seeing.”
At times, this all feels like a lot of exploring just to explore and a waste of time, but I’m learning that not everything needs to have a tangible outcome. Even if I can’t figure out why the scene is in there and the purpose it serves (for myself and the reader), I suspect this exercise is useful for me to develop as an author.
For my memoir, it’ll help me extract a deeper meaning and a greater understanding of what my story means and provide value for the reader.
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