Randomizing Revision

by Leslie Budewitz, @LeslieBudewitz 

I take a methodical approach to revision. As I work on the draft, I start a list of “Revision Notes”—facts to check, inconsistencies to iron out, name changes to clean up. When the draft is complete I print it out and punch it into a fat, three-ring binder. I make an outline, adding to the Revision Notes as I go, with some comments organized by chapter and some by topic. (“Jen or Jenn?;” “Deepen Pepper’s doubts about investigating;” “Kristen lecture Pepper about getting involved with Tag twice? Earlier is better.”)

Then I start the read-throughs, which I sometimes call drafts even though I’m working from the same physical copy. Each read-through involves a different layer of the ms. In the plot draft, I fix the holes I’ve identified in the outline and others that jump out at me as I work. In the character draft, I make sure the protagonist drives the action (I write in first person) and that every secondary character pops. In the scene draft, I sharpen the goals, motivation, and conflicts, and make each transition clear, so the reader never wonders about time or place. I look to make sure I’ve kept it cozy, that I’ve never lost track of the dog, and that I’ve given my protagonist all the trouble she can handle—and then some.

But the final step may be the most important, because it introduces a key element to my otherwise orderly process: randomization. That’s the “Repetitive Word draft.” Like every writer, I’ve got my pet words: still, only, really, turn, smile, perfect. Every book seems to develop its own overused vocabulary. This stage eliminates unconscious echoes, and helps me sharpen my characters’ observations and introduce more variety and vibrance. In my latest ms., second in my Spice Shop Mysteries, my protagonist Pepper seemed to adore everything she didn’t find odd; she laughed too much, and overused the word figure, in a variety of contexts. Chili and chile went on the list because I continually mistyped them, as did Viaduct, a proper noun when referring to the elevated highway running along the Seattle waterfront. In my Food Lovers’ Village Mysteries, I tend to repeat fresh and local. (Worthy concepts; overused words.) After I read a blog post on describing characters’ voices, I got a little carried away with that aspect of craft, so voice and tone went on the list.

But even more than making sure I don’t turn head into a synonym for walk three times on the same page, this process helps me catch (spot, nab) repetitive structure. I use the Find function, jumping from one instance of the target word to the next. I may land on two consecutive pages or skip several chapters. By taking context out of the picture, I can see what I’ve actually written—not what I think I’ve written. I’m not reading chronologically, so it’s easier to recognize repetitive thoughts or phrases and unnecessary sentences. An overused phrase often indicates a clause or sentence that can be eliminated. Sometimes it’s a filtering phrase—“I thought…”, “… caught my attention,” “I felt…”—that creates a distance between narrator and reader. Deleting it allows me to go a touch deeper into my protagonist’s POV.

Some overuses are easy to overlook because words like could, with, and though are so ordinary, so necessary. Do I really replace a good chunk of them? Yes and no. The eye scans over many of these words, and often, they are exactly the right word. But the real importance of the exercise is to show me where I’ve been tentative instead of bold, made a phrase conditional, pulled punches in my dialogue.

An example of a word that shows up too often in the same way—at least for me; your linguistic quirks may vary—is with. I tend to toss it into descriptions far too often. For example, my protagonist, Pepper Reece, describes a chef who comes into her shop this way: “Tamara vibrated with intensity, her presence boosting everyone around her to a higher frequency.” And only seven lines later, Pepper thinks of her this way: “Thin and wiry—from hard work, not workouts—her features too intense to call pretty. But she buzzed with an irresistible energy.” It’s a common sentence structure, but not one for every page.

These searches show us our weak spots.

Because of the random factor, I sometimes notice unnecessary words or phrases apart from those I’m searching for. And though I’ve already deleted dozens of throat-clearing phrases and eliminated thoughts or phrases that belonged in earlier drafts but don’t relate to action in the current version, I still find those stragglers, artifacts of previous thoughts that no longer fit. Out they go. They’re easier to spot when you’re not reading for substance. As a bonus, you may spot missing words or punctuation errors, too, because when the eye sees out of context, it doesn’t make the automatic corrections that trip us up.

For a 75,000 word ms., the process may take me two days. It can be tedious. But I can eliminate several hundred words without eliminating action. And the real payoff is a stronger, tighter manuscript.

Leslie Budewitz is the national best-selling author of DEATH AL DENTE, first in the Food Lovers’ Village Mysteries set in northwest Montana, and winner of the 2013 Agatha Award for Best First Novel, and the sequel, CRIME RIB (2014). ASSAULT & PEPPER, first in her Spice Shop Mysteries will debut in March 2015 from Berkley Prime Crime. Pepper Reece, owner of the Seattle Spice Shop, thinks she can handle any kind of salty customer—until a murderer ends up in the mix…

Also a lawyer, Leslie won the 2011 Agatha Award for Best Nonfiction for BOOKS, CROOKS & COUNSELORS: HOW TO WRITE ACCURATELY ABOUT CRIMINAL LAW & COURTROOM PROCEDURE (Quill Driver Books), making her the first author to win Agatha Awards for both fiction and nonfiction.

Leslie blogs for writers on using the law accurately in their fiction. Visit her blog. http://www.LeslieBudewitz.com/blog
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