REWRITES AND STUFF

First, I want to announce my ebook KINDLE CREATION FOR CONTROL FREAKS will be free for five days starting the Friday (the 6th).

As is typical for me (lately), I've clumped the full five days in one pile at the end of the book's Select period. It's easily the most inefficient method of giveaway—assuming you want to maximize the resulting downloads.

(Best would be one or two day periods, since the great majority of downloads occur then.)

The only excuse I have is that I'm buried beneath the rewrite (slash proof) of something called THE BLACK BOX. It's been a week away from going up on Amazon for the last month and half. And just two weeks away from going up for about two months before that.

(When you're so close to the end, you tend to put off other tasks—like writing posts for your blog.)

So: What the hell is my problem? Why can't I finish the book?

Easy: I can't stop making changes!

By now I've finished finding actual errors. Mostly I just revise what I have now (at last) discovered to be clumsy sentence construction. Or I find out some fast change from last time duplicated a word already in use in the same paragraph (or in a problematically "too near" paragraph). I hate unconscious repetition, and sometime even the sound of a word can trigger my reaction.

(Some of this super-sensitivity is idiotic, of course. Often, common words can be left alone to repeat as needed. Around the turn of the last century budding writers became obsessed with finding other words they could use instead of "said" when tagging dialogue. Whole chapters of How to Write books were set aside to list the alternates (uttered, pronounced, articulated, responded, averred, declaimed, gurgled, trilled, chortled, and so forth). By the second half of the 20th Century, writers came to believe the word "said" carries no particular weight with readers, that they pay no more attention to it than to the word "the." Exotic tags are only used now in a deliberate exaggeration of some character's bizarre style.)

Sometimes, between readings (that is, at the end of the most recent "final" reading), I wander around the house telling myself the story of the novel. I do this out loud so I can listen to the words and object to logical problems.

Just one session like this can lead to pages of notes—even at an advanced stage of the writing. Sometimes rather fundamental problems pop up.

Embarrassing? Oh, you bet! But better to embarrass yourself now in private than in "print" in front of strangers later.

What you dread finding—but must still be open to—is a logical flaw that seriously undermines the very CONCEPT of your book. That, of course, can be crippling. Or it can be a challenge that leads to excellent changes (and lots more excellent delays).

For me, the scary part is that new ideas keep coming that MUST be incorporated into the book. It often takes me a LONG time to see the obvious.

This is one of the pitfalls of indie publishing—the lack of outside feedback.

In the trad pub world, you have professionals to watch your back. Maybe you even have a development editor to keep you on track during the gestation of the work.

In the indie pub world, writers have to make do with beta readers. I've no experience there, but I should probably get some (readers and experience with them).

Right now, every time I read my book I make changes, but the number of those changes does tend to diminish over time. In other words, there appears to be progress, which is maybe the only thing that keeps a writer sane. (That "progress" might be an illusion, but let's not talk about that.)

What I try to do is go over and over a chapter (or even a section of a chapter) until I can find no more changes to make. Unfortunately, this doesn't guarantee all possible changes have been made. It just means things have quieted down for this part of the book. For now.

Theoretically, when you make that "final" batch of changes, you've made the section PERFECT. Which ought to mean you never have to go over it again.

So why do I find myself going over it again?

Partly, it might be a kind of OCD behavior.

After you leave the house, you begin to wonder if you locked the door. If you happen to have been preoccupied at the time (or in a hurry), that feeling can be very strong. So you go back. And find the door properly locked.

Or wide open.

Or it's locked, and your key is stuck in the lock.

Odd things can pop up when you go back to check.

With a book, you can metaphorically run back home to make sure the third floor of your "house" is in order, only to discover your second floor is MISSING.

That kind of structural problem can happen even if you plan your book out in great detail before you start writing. And if you're a "plunge-in" first-draft writer, you really have to keep your eyes open as you go forward.

I think there's another reason why "perfect" chunks of the book are compulsively reread. I've found the process of going through a long manuscript—and making LOTS of changes—can erode my confidence in those earlier "perfected" chapters.

The sheer VOLUME of new changes makes me queasy, afraid I haven't found everything I need to find. And guess what? A slow, detailed look at "finished" chapters often gives me proof I DID need to go through the damned thing again. There really ARE monsters lurking in the darkness, un-slain.

Ultimately, I'm always glad I went back and took "one last" look. And knowing THAT also undermines my confidence.

Another part of the problem is the TIME it takes to get through the book. Longer books may take five to ten days to read carefully and amend. By the time you get to the end, the sense all is well with earlier sections has simply melted away.

If the book were shorter—a novella, say—I think I'd have a much more realistic idea of its "perfection."

A short story can be revised multiple times in one day (like a single chapter in a book), so the sense you've subdued the sucker once and for all is intense. (Though it may be false.)

The rule of thumb in trad pub is this: If you and your editor go over the manuscript twice in a row without making any changes, the book is finished. For an indie pubber, one without professional help, maybe the number should be three or four.

How freaking tedious is THAT?

(Note: I don't mean three or four passes altogether. I mean three or four times in a row when you find NOTHING to change.)

So, what is the ultimate solution? Do the best you can with a "reasonable" number of rewrites and proofs (whatever's "reasonable" for you), then give yourself permission to review the book in the future, after it's been published. Say one year later. Or when you decide to put out a POD edition.

Give yourself one more FINAL reading, with permission to change ANYTHING—just not right now.

Because at some point you HAVE to get on with the next book.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go read my book one more time.