Writing and Selling the YA Novel (17 page)

This brings us to finesse. Finesse is what a magician has that allows us to be mesmerized, taken in by every trick he performs. We don't see the mechanics of the trick, we see the illusion. Writers are magicians of the page. We use our words to create a world that the reader immerses herself in while she reads. Anything that detracts from this experience should be eliminated. You want your narrative voice to be strong, compelling, and
real.
This means that you not only shouldn't shift perspectives or move back and forth between past, present, and future tense without clear delineation, but you must also make your narrative voice as true to life as any voice the reader hears around him, while simultaneously maintaining the smooth flow of the text.

Challenging? Certainly, but it's a great challenge and I know you're ready. It's the kind of challenge that elevates good writing to great writing, entertainment to art. Narrative voice combines every aspect of what we've learned so far about characters, plot, and setting, plus it uses everything you'll learn next period in science class as we delve into the world of editing. It's a fundamental building block for every novel, and I guarantee the more you practice, the better you'll get at making the best choices and employing them with the most skill. So even though we're ready to move on to your next class, keep narrative voice in mind as we delve into the editing process.

If science can, in part, be defined as "an expert's skillful technique" (according to the
New Oxford, American Dictionary),
editing absolutely qualifies as a science. Many people think of editing merely as the correction of bad grammar, but in reality there's much more to it than that. Editing is not only about choosing or correcting individual words, it's also about looking at your work as a whole and deciding if the choices you made along the way are working as they should be. This can involve rewriting entire sections of a book or reordering events. Sometimes it means the elimination or addition of a character. Regardless, it's an opportunity to take your writing and make it better. Editing is something every author can be grateful for because it's a second chance to get things right. It can also be your third, fourth, and fifth chances as well.

It might be helpful to think of editing the way scientists think of the scientific method. When the first draft of a book is done, try to:

• observe your work impassively, doingyour best to eliminate any emotional involvement that might make you defensive to change

• describe your own reactions

• predict how others might react

• exert control in order to eliminate alternatives that don't belong

• experiment to see which choices work best

• test your hypotheses about character, action, setting, and point of view. Do they really work the way you thought they would?

Most of us will need to experiment again and again in order to get things right. Just as scientists don't expect to prove a theory on their first try, very few writers know how their entire book should be written the first time through. It's necessary to see which paths work and which don't. This is nothing to be ashamed of. In fact, I think editing is something to be proud of. It shows you have the willingness and stamina to make your book the best it can be. So, if you're ready to get your hands dirty, let's get out those beakers and Bunsen burners and see what explodes.

WHEN TO BEGIN
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I think the most daunting part of editing for many writers is the question of when to begin. Some writers start editing right away before they've even completed their first draft. Others are loath to edit at all,

looking to send their work out as soon as that last word is typed. As with most things, a balanced approach is probably best.

Let's begin by looking at the dangers of editing too early.
What could be wrong with that?,
you might wonder. Isn't editing something we can always benefit from? On one level this is true. There are almost always changes that can be made to our writing, and nine times out of ten those changes will end up strengthening your novel. But what happens when you've turned your attention from the task of creating to the task of improving?

What's at stake is creative momentum. Momentum can be a powerful force to keep you moving through the writing process. Writing is not easy, and the task of finishing an entire book can be daunting, but it's easier to keep going when you're working hard and your story is flowing well than it is when you're picking something up cold. You know you've got momentum when each day's work leads into the next, and you just can't wait to finish the scene or chapter that you had to leave dangling the night before.

Think of momentum like going to the gym. For most of us, going to the gym takes some mental as well as physical effort. It can be hard to motivate yourself to get out of the house, especially if you've taken a long break for a vacation or illness. However, once you're working out, you remember why you wanted to exercise in the first place. Then it's easier to get to the gym again the next day. As long as you keep going, your momentum will remain high, but as soon as you stop ... watch out!

Momentum is so important that I often write a small amount on both weekend days just to keep the story in my mind and to sustain the pattern of writing. As soon as I stop, I know it will be much harder to begin again. The first day back after a break I usually sit at my computer

struggling to remember what it was I'd been so excited about the last time I wrote. This is why writers like Stephen King write every single day of the year. I'll admit, I'm not that diligent, but I do take momentum seriously, and when I have it I don't give it up easily.

Some authors deliberately end their day's work mid-scene just to keep their momentum rolling into the next day. By ending at the height of the action instead of wrapping up the scene or chapter, they're more anxious to finish what they started. Personally, I find that I need to complete my thoughts or else I don't remember them clearly the next day, but I can understand how for many people this technique works wonders.

Consider this: If momentum is so precious, why would you want to lose it too early in the process? You wouldn't. That's why editing too soon can be dangerous. When you stop the creative process in order to turn your attention to revising, the forward motion of the book stops. And for what? Unless your first draft is finished, it's probably too soon to see how the broader strokes of character and plot are working. You'll get to know your characters over time. Once you've lived with someone for two hundred pages, you'll know him a lot better than you would have at page fifty. And since your character's choices will affect the plot, allowing him to develop will allow the plot to unfold.

The most important accomplishment for your first draft of a novel is to finish it. Period. There will be plenty of time to fix things later, but in the beginning you want to move ahead and get your words down on the page. This is especially true if you haven't yet finished a complete manuscript. Many, many people start books and never end them. It's one of the reasons editors and agents want to see complete manuscripts rather than partials. You need to prove to them and to yourself that you have what it takes to see a book through to the finish line.

Now, having said all that, I will add a caveat. There is one way that editing and momentum can work together early on in the process. It may not work for everyone, but I've found that starting each day by rereading the chapter or section I was working on the day before is a great way to gather my thoughts for that new day, refreshing my memory and stoking the fire of creativity. As I read what I wrote, I edit lightly, changing awkward words or phrases, but I don't start too far back (no more than one chapter) and I don't spend too much time on the editing part of the task. My goal is to move forward, but if I can clean things up as I get ready to go, so much the better. If you're a disciplined person who won't get sidetracked, this approach might work for you. Otherwise, unless you've changed your mind about an important decision regarding character, plot, or setting—or unless you've discovered a glaring error that will affect the rest of your book—the time to edit is when your first draft is complete.

ONCE YOU FINISH YOUR FIRST DRAFT
_

Okay, so what happens once you've finished your first draft? Now the question moves from when to begin to
where
to begin. Should you start out on page one with your trusty red pen in hand? Should you hire a professional to help? Should you break out Strunk & White's
The Elements of Style
and search for editing tips?

If my most important piece of advice for this book can be summed up in one word—
read—
then my most important piece of advice for this chapter can also be summed up in one word:
wait.
If this seems contrary to the "learn-by-doing" approach of the rest of your school day, it's not. In this case, waiting
is
doing. It's a very important step in the editing process.

There's a term my editor and I throw around constantly:
fresh eyes.
What this refers to is the achievement of a certain amount of editorial distance from the work in question. When you're in the thick of writing or editing, reading passages again and again, this can be difficult to achieve, but it's necessary in order to view what you're working on as the reader would view it. Having fresh eyes means you're reading exactly what's on the page rather than what you intended to write. It means being able to sever some small part of the emotional attachment you might feel for your book in order to look at it objectively.

When I work with my editor, she and I both recognize the need for fresh eyes. We try to make sure that while the other person is working on the book, we don't look at it at all. In fact, I try not to even think about a novel until it's back in my hands. Why? Because I want my reading to replicate that of a first-time reader as closely as possible. I want to forget about what I know is going to happen next, or what I think I accomplished in terms of characterization. I want to distance myself from all the details of the world that have been dancing around in my imagination so I can see what I actually wrote. Making sure you've really communicated what you intended to communicate is a very important part of the writing process.

You'll be amazed at what you're able to see once you look at something from a distance. Maybe that character who was so real in your mind didn't make it completely on the page, and when you reread your work you'll realize which details you left out that are important for your audience. Maybe there are continuity errors in your plot. Perhaps your writing is wordy or sloppy. Maybe the novel doesn't flow the way you thought it would. You'll get a much better sense of your pacing and style after you've spent some time away from your work.