On Rewriting

What is the so-called voice? The one thing that easily distinguishes a writer and makes him memorable, the one thing itself being so difficult to define and comprehend. Most writers believe they cannot teach how to find or create a unique voice, but one should be able to find his voice through writing constantly and writing well. According to my experience, voice shows up most frequently during rewriting. This is because, in the first draft, we are too engaged in developing the story and the characters, too eager to deliver our messages, too awed by all the possibilities, or too desperate to put something on a blank page.

This is why a good writer may not be a good speaker (most writers are actually shy and nervous when speaking to the public). Speech is improvisatory and requires different skills. To me, writing is not a linear process; it has both feedforward and feedback stages. Sometimes I’m unable to write a sentence without knowing how to write the following chapters. Same thing with dialogue. Now it is commonly accepted that good dialogue should both characterize the speaker and advance the plot. If it fails to characterize, it is “info dumping”. If it doesn’t advance the plot, well, let’s just say there are better ways to do it. However, more than often, it is difficult to achieve both goals in the first draft.

Never fall in love with our first drafts. We may have rehearsed some of the sentences so many times that they have become reality to us, but keep this in mind: few people prefer reading accounts of reality to fiction. Even for historical books that are supposed to accurately relate the past, great efforts have been made in searching the right way to present it. Reality doesn’t need to make sense; fiction does. Things cannot happen out of the blue in a novel, although that’s how things happen in real life. We need to put foreshadow earlier on. Readers need to build expectations, so that they can be either satisfied or misled. That’s what keeps them reading. Sometimes we plant those seeds subconsciously without knowing their purposes until a hundred pages later; sometimes we do need to go back and forth to add them in. There should be no irrelevant information in the dialogue, no random person being paid much attention. These are all to be fixed through rewriting.

Note that I didn’t say revising. I meant rewriting, which includes, but is not limited to, reevaluating the theme and its realization, reconstructing the whole narration, combining or deleting characters. It sometimes means throwing away hundreds of pages. I once read about a writer who would finish the first draft and toss it completely before beginning the rewriting. Many of us don’t have the courage!

I can only imagine how many potential masterpieces have been abandoned in the beginning because the (novice) writer felt he/she wrote something crappy and meaningless. Experienced writers know that a first draft is allowed to be crappy, and it may appear meaningless before going through the nonlinear process I mentioned above. Experienced writers are even happy with a crappy first draft, knowing that this will only add to the pleasure later on when they turn it into a shining piece. In fact, if you happen to write a brilliant first chapter the first time, it can be a bad thing, because in the following chapters you might try too hard to live up to the standard you’ve just set for yourself, or you might be too afraid to explore all the possibilities just to keep the beginning.

Once we are satisfied with the rewrite, we can start revising it. I would suggest refraining from fiddling with it too many times, because doing so may hurt the voice. Once there was a writer who posted a paragraph on a forum, and other writers tried to help him polish it. After a few posts I said, keep your original. It reads like a stranger breaking into your house with a dead wolf on his back, while the revisions are like salesmen gently knocking on the door (unfortunately he didn’t get my metaphor). Writing is not to find the best word from a thesaurus, or to construct the perfect grammar. A language can be bent to the extend that a little more pressure may have it crushed. Someone said, art is to know what to keep and what to delete. We can add, it is also to know when to stop.