I just finished one of those high/low weeks I always hit when writing a book. The high was finishing the first draft. The low was embarking on step one of the revision process.

I’m what’s called a seat-of-the-pants writer. All I know when I begin a new project is the life histories of a few characters, a mental image of the opening scene, and a general plot idea. At that point, I sit down to write the story, turning off my internal editor while I push forward until I hit the end. Only then do I examine what I’ve written and figure out what revisions are necessary to turn it into a book. Finishing that first draft usually only takes me a month or so, but this time I spent much of each day dealing with a disabled husband, so the process took far longer than usual and hasn’t gone very smoothly. It’s hard to crawl into a story deep enough to let the words flow when I have to deal with constant interruptions. But I managed it in the end.

So I’m now faced with revisions. My process – which is mine and doesn’t work for all writers, or maybe even any other writers – goes something like this. I write that first draft as fast as possible, letting the creativity flow, with no backtracking and no editing. If I need a fact I don’t know, I insert a note to find it later, then continue. I rarely think about what I’ve already written, though occasionally some huge problem does creep in that I have to deal with immediately. That was particularly true this time since interruptions interfered with that creative flow, jump-starting my internal editor. When I reach the end, I have what I call a skeleton draft. It contains the primary structure of the story, though it might be missing a limb or two or have an extra finger or toe. But that’s not something I worry about while writing the skeleton.

Not until I reach the end do I search out defects. The best way I know to find them is to outline the entire book – by hand, writing VERY small so I can fit each chapter’s outline on a single page. The outline makes it easy to spot repetition, plot holes, do-nothing scenes, and other weak spots, which I mark on the outline in a different color ink.

The next step is to tackle the mountain of notes I generated while drafting the story – I never back up or edit during the drafting stage, so when I notice necessary changes, I scribble them on scraps of paper. Things like make sure we meet Sally before chapter 6 or change antique ring to old master’s painting or where did this dog come from? Most notes arise from unexpected plot twists that need to be properly set up or plot changes that mean previous setups are now superfluous. I number the notes, decide where in the story they should be dealt with, then add the numbers to the outline. This is why keeping the outline one page per chapter is so important. It lets me look at the entire book as a unit.

Adding change notes to the outline is today’s chore. I’ve already discovered that my hero and heroine held nearly identical discussions twice, so they must find something else to talk about on the second occasion. Another character is over-analyzing a situation and needs something constructive to do instead. Two confrontations are weak and should probably be combined into a single episode. Two tertiary characters are distracting so should be eliminated. Their function can better be handled by an existing secondary character. There is a jarring leap in action between chapters nine and ten that will require a bridge scene to smooth out. And, of course, half the scenes are talking heads while the other half contain little or no dialogue. Par for the course at this point in the process.

The next step will be to flesh out this skeleton into a real story. So tomorrow I start on revisions, using the marked-up outline as a guide. This pass still requires a heavy dose of creativity, but it must be tempered with an even heftier dose of logic and editorial evaluation. Fortunately, I love the process of massaging plots and polishing words. It’s outlining I can’t stand…