Destroying the Precious

[Editing time-source]

 I've been blogging about how to make writing more literary. One of the most important differences between inferior fiction and amazing fiction that kicks off a future with diehard followers is the editing process.  Your first draft can be absolute trash, but as long as the editing takes as long and as much effort (on your part and someone else's) as it needs to, you can still end up with a brilliant and meaningful final copy.  Your writing process can involve outlines, pages of background and characterization, or just a lot of pantsing.  The key is in editing, and some of that may likely involve scrapping the moments, characters, entire scenes, or long chapters into which you've poured your heart.  Sometimes, your final best work involves shooting your darlings, those bits that are just too precious, too detailed, too inessential to stay.  

[Your Draft-source]

So you have a draft.  You may love this draft or hate this draft.  It can be anything from short poetry to an autobiography to literary (non)fiction to the wildest sci-fi romp. That draft is done.  Now what?  Don't even think about looking at your commas or other fine editing at this stage.  The first step is to take a careful look at the structure and major characters, themselves.  If you can afford to have a freelance editor who does this kind of story editing, all the better. Even Stephen King needs an editor, and he's a master. If you have a publisher breathing down your neck, great.  They may have someone to pitch it.  You may also have friends or a writer's group to look over.  Or you may be doing it all yourself.  I don't recommend the last option, but sometimes, there's no choice.  

[Editing-source]

Regardless of whether you now have a pile of editors' or other readers' comments, you really need distance from the text, as much as you can afford to give yourself.  If it's a few days or even a week, fine.  If you can give yourself a whole month or more, even better.  When you've just carefully crafted that cherubic/charming/witty/scathing/etc cast of side characters, what you see as amazing dialogue, a brilliant series of scenes, and a whole book that just feels wonderful to you, you're too close.  It's like investigating the murder of your best friend.  There won't be any emotional distance, and you're not ready.  

[Taking a closer look--source]

Because when you start giving your manuscript a really close look at your story editing, you need to see it with fresh eyes.  You need to see each scene, each character, each description with a clinical eye.  What purpose does each aspect of the story serve when it comes to building up the main character's story arc, the critical subplots, the overall plot, or the 3- 7- or 12-act structure, whatever you're using?  If nothing, it can't stay. 

[When beauty achieves nothing--source]

If there's a beautifully written, breathtaking scene that you poured your heart into that doesn't contribute substantially to the symphony that is your piece, it needs to go.  If there's a clever, witty side character that draws too much attention from the protagonist's main growth, you may want to keep him/her/it/them for another story.  You don't have to simply erase.  You can always keep a running side document where you keep your best cuts.  It may inspire you later. 

 

[Achieving balance--source]

But if you've got 30 characters in a 100 page book with very little characterization or possibly a breathtakingly purple (florid, overly descriptive) background with uninteresting foreground characters, something, probably a lot of somethings, need to go. It's at this stage you're finding your balance and the voice of your narrative.  I don't care how much you love that scene/dialogue/character/set. If it doesn't perform a critical role in the overall story or distracts in any way, it's time to break up with it for the sake of keeping the narrative compelling.  If it becomes too precious, too specific, and slows down your story, it just can't stay.  

[What feedback can feel like--source]

Editing can be such a hard part of writing. You get feedback that may feel like a gut punch or leave you reeling, wondering how you'll achieve what the reader wants.  Trimming back scenes and characters you love can feel like you're parting with your best friends.  It has to be done to make your final product what it needs to be to keep the reader glued.  

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Depth in Dialogue

 

[Dialogue-source]

I've been blogging on how to write in a deeper, more literary way, no matter the genre. One way to do this is through dialogue that isn't just one-layered.  This is often called text and subtext.  It means your dialogue can be read beyond face value.  It can deepen any piece of writing.  

[dialogue-source]

Face value dialogue is common and can do the job.  One character asks a question, and another character answers. As long as it moves character, plot, or setting along, it works on some level. It's a good thing to observe actual conversation between people taking notes to see how they actually talk.  However, a lot of actual human dialogue is filler, with empty greetings that demand an equally empty answer.  Everything you actually write should move the story forward, especially dialogue. Usually, it works best when the two or more characters each have conflicting motivations, some of which may be implied instead of outright statements.  

[Body language-source]

Once you start throwing in body language, you can make it clear the character doesn't even believe his/her own words.  You start adding depth to the face value of the writing.  Words can say one thing, say, because the characters know someone is listening. ("Nah, we can't do that.") Meanwhile, the same character is shaking his head and making a gesture to make it clear the words can't be taken at face value.  The same thing can be achieved through dialogue.

[Smallville and Text and Subtext-source]

If you can write "a second conversation hidden beneath the surface-level dialogue" that works on two levels, it shows a mastery of the craft.  As I was watching "Smallville" (about Superman as a teenager) recently, I noticed a lot of text and context dialogue going on and started to mentally categorize it. Much of it fell under the category of dramatic irony, where one character understood what was going on the surface, but the other did not.  For instance, two characters may be discussing an alien invasion, one with horror and fear, and the other knowing he/she IS an alien and taking the other character's reaction personally.  

[Beneath the surface-source]

Some of the dramatic irony in "Smallville" meant two characters knew what was going on, while a third was left in the dark. The two characters in-the-know had to discuss a secret in a way that left the third confused or talking about a whole separate thing without knowing it.  In other cases, no characters on the screen understood that what they were discussing foreshadowed a future the audience knew was coming.  For instance, one character mentions wearing a cape, while the future Superman mocked them and said he'd never wear one.  Neither character sees what the audience sees about Superman wearing capes in the future. The audience hears both the surface-level dialogue and the second conversation underneath.  This adds depth and meaning.  

[White Hills--just the surface--source]

Literary works often have dialogue that works on multiple levels.  For instance, Hemingway, in "Hills like White Elephants," show two characters discussing one thing on the surface, while underneath, it's all a debate about abortion.  The word "abortion" doesn't appear anywhere in the story.  

In the article referenced above, you can find the following list of ways to use text and subtext: 

• Contradiction between words and body language/tone
• Flirting
• Reaction to a smaller issue actually being about a larger issue
• Sugarcoating the truth
• Implied accusation
• Passive aggressiveness
• Euphemisms or vague references (especially in discussing social taboos)
• Sarcasm
• Misinterpretations of the other person’s meaning

All of these can create conflict that isn't just on a surface level.  The reader listens for more than just the surface conflict, allowing a place for interpretation. It builds tension and excitement that surface dialogue can't achieve.  

[Writing on two levels--source]

When not all conflict is on the surface, characters seem to agree while having a debate, characters seem to flirt while actually fighting or vice versa, or the like, the story you're writing takes on more depth. Where can you add text and subtext to your writing?