It is widely known that writing experts advise the author to read their typescript from start to finish without making any marks on the text – except the odd coffee cup stain.
So did I follow this time-hallowed tradition when I sat down to write? I did not. I attacked my chunk of the text – a book within the book (called The LIGHTCHASERS) - complete with a set of different coloured pens and began making corrections and suggestions as I went along. I am, after all, the author of 21 published books, I thought, and 14 commissioned screenplays, I have earned the right in twenty-five years to deviate a little from the basics. BIG MISTAKE.
I knew very well from previous revisions that The Lightchasers needed structure. It doesn’t quite work in its own right. More annoying, it’s not always clear where it slots in with the rest of the novel. Between ourselves, I think there must have been times when I was writing in a snatch and grab style, without giving much thought to how well the small book would fit into the larger one. It happens - but makes more work afterwards.
Mistake number one, which I NEVER make with a screenplay - try to make sure you have a plot and a sequence of events mapped out before tackling the writing. Doesn't have to be detailed, just enough to keep you on track and moving ahead with the story. What it have in its favour, though, was a strong and very clear voice.
I got through the amendments fairly quickly and then went to the computer to input them, only to kick myself very hard for repeating something I’d already done a year ago: read through the text, edit, amend and proof-read; put in a comma, take out a full-stop – you know the kind of thing I mean. It was not a rewrite of the kind I intended, at all.
What I had in mind was to make deep changes – work out how to structure the Light-Chasers so I’d have a book that even if it didn’t stand entirely on its own, would have a proper shape, its own issues to explore and resolve. That meant reading it critically, working out how and where the new information would go, how much of the old material would have to be thrown out, or swapped around, or remoulded to serve the new narrative.
I went back to square one.
- Printed out the text.
- Sat away from my desk to change my energy.
- Read a clean copy and kept it correction free. (Found this bit incredibly hard as I was convinced I’d forget all the brilliant insights I was getting. But twiddled my thumb instead of the pen.)
When this was done, I had a clear impression of the overall scheme of the Light-Chasers. So far, Saif,its ‘hero’ or main voice, shows an alternative way of thinking to the usual, practical way we live our lives. But Saif is a bit of an anomaly. He’s a spiritual leader – a hereditary one - and having been groomed to this way of life, he perceives things differently. One of the things that comes up peripherally in the main book is Saif’s philanthropic work which focuses on education – a network of small village schools and ways of furthering educational reform. This he does with his friend Jay, the former Maharaja of an Indian state (they’re no longer proper Maharajas but the titles and kudos are still there). So what better than to turn the current project for a Girls’ Academy into something much bigger which causes dissension state-wide and becomes the plot and conflict of the Light-Chasers. Of course it all has to be told in Saif’s existing voice, carry his views and serve his character - but through ‘action’ rather than exposition.
Phew! I spent a long time brewing fresh ginger and lemon tea – writing is thinking, so I’ve learned not to deny myself thinking time. Then I sat down to read again. This time, with a pen.
Within fifteen minutes I’d marked up the text as if I’d suddenly seen with great clarity what needed to be done. I put lines through 4 of the 15 pages of text. I scribbled stars and other symbols to indicate where material would be swapped around. Then I returned to the computer and did it all on screen without once looking at my sheets of paper except at the end to see if I’d missed anything. I hadn’t. That’s often the way.
As I scanned the text, this time on screen, I began to write in new information, link lines, phrases, sketch in details for clarity. It was all done within two hours from the second try and read smoothly with the plot properly integrated into the old material but really giving it substance.
I used the same method on the second chunk later that day – it worked again.
As a writing teacher/mentor, I like to know why some ways of working are more effective – and in this case, the most important thing for me was that without a pen I soon stopped thinking it was correctable text written by me – and I read as a reader, critical but I could only react to the text and not tamper with it. This kept my mind clear and focused all the way through.
When I have a pen, I begin correcting at once. I make little amendments - literals, sentences, choice of words. I get so stuck into the nitty-gritty that the bigger picture vanishes. The swathes of unusable text, the appropriate spaces for cutting and pasting etc., the insights about repositioning information, checking the consistency of events and characters, are overlooked. I end up with another thoroughly proof-read draft. But that is not the object.
So, the success of the experience lies in two simple processes.
Reading without correcting allows us to experience the book as a reader
Maintaining a distance from the text allows us to see more clearly how to improve it.
Okay – off to read the next chunk – happy writing and may the Muse be with you.
