Work in progress

After what feels like an eternity I’m getting round to the all-important revisions for my urban fantasy novella, What Sweet Music They Make. I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I’m not superwoman, and that I cannot write new works in progress while revising AND still try to keep on top of my editing obligations for Lyrical Press. And while this all happens, I’m still beta-reading for my fellow authors, reviewing books and writing blog posts and newspaper articles.

There’s more than enough work present to keep me out of mischief. What’s worse is that my revisions have been piling up. I still have my steampunk novel featuring vampires and pirates waiting in the wings, not to mention some hard decisions about revising Camdeboo Nights, my only foray into YA urban fantasy. So the buck stops here. I’m in revision mode. I’ve just completed second-round edits on Hell’s Music, my next Therése von Willegen novel, so I have no excuses keeping me from the other titles languishing in the wings.

I had fun writing What Sweet Music They Make. It combines two of my greatest loves: vampires and music. The story is a dip into the same setting where my current Lyrical release, The Namaqualand Book of the Dead kicks off. I’ve spent time working out how vampires function in my milieu and the reason why there are always fewer vampires than mortals. C’mon, we can’t all be undead and sparkly.

Jokes aside, my vampires don’t sparkle. And after many decades, most of them lose the taste for immortality, though they remain tenacious, anachronisms in many cases.

I’ve had some great feedback from my betas so far. Two chapters need to bite the dust at the start. This doesn’t pain me as much as I’d have thought, because I’ll be releasing the first chapter as a freebie prologue in anticipation of the story’s actual release. Yes, yes… I know I haven’t sold the story yet, but that’s the least of my worries. What I do know is that I’ll need to add additional material near the end, and the epilogue may go the way of most prologues upon submission.

This is the fun part of revising, where the novella is still fluid, where I can tweak and layer, make people care more about my characters. And you know what? I’m in no mood to rush, either. I’m going to savour this time where I can return to the world of Severin and Tersia, and groom them into memorable characters.

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Revising your manuscript

Possibly one of the most important and often neglected aspects of writing is revisions. It’s all fine and dandy to bash out a novel in less than six weeks then have the horrors of the manuscript burning a hole in your hard drive. So many authors (and I include myself here) have, at some point or another, submitted a manuscript for consideration to a publisher or literary agent without first revising it. And it shows, trust me.

Granted, when I first started out I was still blindingly convinced of my sheer and utter brilliance. Funny how these things change after being rejected countless times and one discovers literary agents and publishers aren’t falling over themselves to consider your submissions.

After each rejection I’d retreat to lick my wounds. The first thing I realised about why my short stories weren’t selling was that they were novels in disguise. Or so my crit partners were telling me. I listened to them. Solution: start writing novels. If I’d continued writing short stories in the hope of one day having enough cred to write a novel, I’d still be unpublished. And I admit freely that I cannot write a short story to save my life. (That’s not to say I don’t write them from time to time, for fun, but I tend to hide them on my fictionpress profile).

The first and most important lesson an author can learn is: don’t take advice from crit partners and other industry professionals personally. Once in a while you’re probably also going to meet a right twunt who’s going to say nasty things just for the sake of being a b1tch, but if you’ve worked hard to find some decent folks who care about you, you will have a better idea whether your writing stinks.

Your mom, cousin or the nice lady down the road will not give you an objective view of your novel unless they happen to be authors themselves. And, let’s be brutally honest here, folks, most ordinary peeps simply don’t possess the critical function to critique writing and tell you what’s really wrong with it. C’mon, they read (insert your least favourite cruddy best-selling author here).

Which is why writing groups can work for some. I’ve met my best crit partners, authors with whom I have a very close working relationship, who are at a similar stage that I am, through writing groups. I love and respect their writing. They love and respect mine. When they mention something about mine, I listen to their advice and I consider it. It’s a relationship based on trust. Most successful authors have their crit partners – like the ones who aren’t afraid to tell the likes of Stephen King when he’s being a daft bat.

The best thing you can do once you’ve finished your first draft is to send it to your crit partners. AND FORGET THE MANUSCRIPT EXISTS. Forget about it completely. It doesn't exist. Don’t daydream about which agent you’re going to query or which publishers you’re going to submit to. STEP AWAY FROM THE NOVEL and start your next project.

Yup, you heard me. Start your next first draft. Give your crit partner about a month or two to read your novel and get back to you. Then, if you’re one of those dreadful super-charged Energiser bunnies like me, you’ll almost be done with the first draft of your next work.

Now here’s the difficult part. ONLY start your revisions once you’ve finished the next WiP. Now you can send that to a crit partner while you get cracking on revising the novel that’s just returned.

You know what’s even more magic? You’d have taken two or so months’ break from your manuscript and, guess what? Your eyes will be fresh. Hell, it’s going to be like stepping into a new story. And the scary part is you’ll be more apt to see mistakes.

Oh, lordy, did you repeat “realise” twenty times in one paragraph? Or, goodness, Bill had a black tie on but it’s turned purple about halfway through dinner… Trust me you pick up stupid stuff you missed the first time. Stupid stuff that would make editors and agents groan and have a ::head desk:: moment, or laugh and point at assorted instances of homophone or apostrophe abuse. Or those darn pesky dangling modifiers.

There’s no standard rule of “Thou shalt revise your manuscript half a dozen times before you submit it anywhere” but you know what? Three or four revisions can’t hurt before you start submitting. If you’ve got the luxury of printing out an entire MS, go at it with a red pen while sitting on your veranda or in front of the fire with a cuppa.

And, perhaps the greatest rule of all: patience. Remember that the publishing industry is a waiting game. Be patient. The wheel, she turns slowly, mmmmkay? Don’t try to get everything done overnight. You’re only going to exhaust yourself and lose hope. Until you’ve got print deadlines to worry about, take your time and enjoy improving your craft. Learn from past mistakes and avoid them, finding ways to make each novel grow better than the last.

Because, trust me, your editor doesn’t want to correct the same kinds of mistakes you make in books three or four that occurred in book one.