Wyatt has been absorbing most of my mental energy lately, which is why nobody has heard much from me. I recently sent the first half of the manuscript (290 pages) to a fresh reader, and she alerted me to a serious imbalance in the way the story was developing. It took me a week to figure out (a) where the structural problem was and (b) how to correct it with the least amount of demolition. My task for the next two weeks will be to restructure about 30% of the existing chapters and then to smooth out the prose after all that cutting and pasting.
This might be a good time to talk about writers’ workshops.
I know very good writers who workshop their developing manuscripts and who find that process invaluable. I like a lot of feedback as I work, too, but as best I can recall, I’ve only taken a manuscript to a fellow writer once. The experience was a good one. Maureen McHugh took a look at A Thread of Grace when I despaired of ever getting the damned thing past March of 1943. She spotted a couple of places where I’d gone into the weeds and also imparted some writerly wisdom she’d gotten from Karen Joy Fowler, another novelist I know and admire.
In just one afternoon at a Korean restaurant, Maureen made comments and suggestions that made me a better writer and A Thread of Grace a better book. So it’s not as though my work hasn’t benefited from the advice of others in my trade. Nevertheless, I’ve never joined a writers group, although there are good ones in the Cleveland area.
I wish I could give you some sort of high-minded reason for that but, in all honesty, it’s awful enough reading my own crappy drafts. Reading other people’s crappy drafts would be even worse. That’s selfish and obnoxious, but it’s the truth. And as helpful as other writers might be, it is my unalterable conviction that they also have better things to do than read other people’s crappy drafts, such as: work on their own next book.
Instead of a writers group, I have a team of passionate readers who provide feedback as I develop characters and a plot and dialog. Each novel has attracted a nucleus of two to three fanatics who are not just willing but eager to read 1000 words at a time, day by day, and to reread from start to finish, over and over, during the three years it takes me to complete a novel. Those people are dear to me, and theirs are the names you read in my dedications. But beyond that, I have an even larger team of readers who jump into the process at varying intervals and get big chunks of story all at once. Those are the names in the Author’s Note at the end of the books.
By the end of July, I’ll send Wyatt back to Tanya, to see if I’ve fixed the problem she identified in the first half of the story. Then I’ll send it to Bob, Gretchen and Jeff, who are reading this novel chapter by chapter, to see what they think of the changes. When the five of us feel it’s solid, the corrected manuscript will go to Ellie, who hasn’t read anything yet, and who can give me an idea of how the first half is working after all that tinkering.
At that point, I’ll be ready to push on with the second half of the novel. And when I’ve got a complete first draft, from start to finish, Vivian will get it, because she has always read the first complete draft. Then the book will be read by a couple of dozen other people who’ll check specific elements of the background material (firearms, horse lore, legal procedures, mining details, Arizona history, etc.) while also giving me feedback simply as readers of the story.
Each time somebody comments on the manuscript, I reread myself, editing in response to the new reactions. And then the manuscript goes to New York, where the professionals have at it!
At each step of this process, I tell people, “Try not to be brutal, but remember: I can’t fix something if I don’t know it’s broken. I’d rather hear about a problem now, from a friend, than to read about the problem in a newspaper review when it’s too late to do anything about it.”
Writing is a pretty solitary profession but, for me at least, editing is a team sport!