A Monstrous War, the 2nd Draft

Once again, I have to give credit to Stephen King's On Writing. I used it as a guidebook when I tackled the second draft of A Monstrous War.

When I was writing the first draft, I didn't let anyone read it. I'd call my close friends and read them a few paragraphs here and there. Writing can be very lonely, and I needed a little encouragement. I'm not going to lie...I only read them the best bits.

As an aside, I write for other people. I write to entertain. I know some people write for themselves, but I can't imagine that. I could never write something and pack it away in a box. So when I finished the first draft, I was dying to have people read it.

I made ten copies and thought about who would get one. Half the people I chose were readers of the fantasy genre. The other half - not so much. Half were familiar with my fictional world, its characters and history, and the other half had no idea. I wanted a few total noobies, and here's why:

Fantasy is a strange genre. When you write a mystery book set in NY or LA, you assume that the readers know what a car is, or how an elevator works. But when you make everything up there is a definite worry that the reader is going to have no idea what the hell you are talking about. I wanted to know if I had written a book that was accessible and comprehensible. (Also, this might be why urban fantasy is becoming so popular. The real world settings are easily identifiable and don't require such a jump.)

So I passed out the copies and waited for someone, anyone to finish it. This was the single most nerve wracking period in the process. Would people like it? If they didn't, would they be honest and tell me? We're talking about friends here. It's hard to ask a total stranger to read a book for you.

A friend of mine whose opinion I highly value finished it first. He's very good at tearing apart stories, the sort that sits down to watch a movie and always knows what's going to happen next. Also, he's not the type that is going to spare your feelings.

His review was very positive. My impression was that he a little shocked at how much he liked it. He admitted he had been worried that it would suck and he'd have to tell me so. We talked about the book and what it needed, where it was slow, what characters needed more "camera time". All his suggestions made good sense. I took notes while we talked, thanked him profusely and hung up so I could go breakdance in my living room.

Other reviews began to trickle in. All the reviews were positive, but let's face it, it's your friends and family. The trick was to get people's real feelings out of them.

If someone just said "it's good", I ignored them. Passing the draft out wasn't an ego-building exercise. I needed honest feedback. If they asked questions about the characters (as in they want to know what happens next) or bring things that happened in the book up casually when we were just hanging out, then I realized they really liked it. If they never mentioned it again, chances were I was being humored.

Certain threads began to emerge. When five people tell you the book needs a certain thing, it's time to listen. I'm not the sort that holds his writing sacred, let's get that out of the way.

According to On Writing, you're supposed to let the book rest for eight weeks. This gives you time to forget about it a little. It puts distance between you and the book. I'm not going to lie, I thought but for a few grammar/spelling issues my first draft was golden.

Still, I put it down and tried not to touch it...

...and failed miserably. Every day I'd crack it open, read a few pages, then make myself stop. I didn't make any changes, I just would hold it and flip through it and assure myself that yes, I had written a book. It was real. I carried it around with me like it was a child or a new pet. After reading it once (or twice), I was finally able to leave it alone.

On February 4th, the eight weeks were up and it was okay to look at it. I sat down to open it up and found that I was terrified. Every day, the same thing, paralyzed by fear. Two weeks went by before I realized why I was so scared.

I'd never written a second draft before.

I told myself: "Look Self, you didn't know how to write a first draft either and that didn't stop you. Do you really want to be a writer? Is this your dream or what? Are you going to wuss out now because you might fail?"

Damn straight. That Self guy is a hardass, just listen to him. So I sat down and opened the book up and I learned something.

My first drafts are ugly.

Holy crap was it ugly. Remember when I said I was worried about it being comprehensible? Yeah, I guess so, because I said the same thing over and over again. All over it was the sign of a writer who was worried he wouldn't be understood. Also there was a writer who was at times too timid.

"It was as if..."

I used that a lot. Let me make up an example real quick.

"It was as if the man had a limp."

Yeah, guess what pal? He has a limp. Delete that junk.

"It seemed that..."

"It seemed that he was out of orange juice."

No, he's just out of orange juice. Delete, delete, delete.

Also I had fallen in love with the word "great". As in "the great doors of the castle....he drew his great sword....she had a great love for roasted chicken."

Can I just say I'm not the thesaurus type? Writing the first draft, I was just getting my words down, man. I don't like to stop and look words up. I think you can trap yourself trying to craft the perfect sentence, or find just the right word, when you should just forge ahead.

So I got out my shears and started pruning. I reminded myself to be bold with my writing. I took out as many adjectives and adverbs as possible.

I deleted a great many greats.

What else? A lot of sentences had too many words. I combined sentences and deleted whole paragraphs. Looking at it now, they won't be missed.

I added new passages where they needed to be added, fleshed out characters people (rightly) suggested needed more attention.

Between the fist and second drafts I somehow added around 3,000 words. I have zero idea how that happened. I remember adding three new scenes, each about a page long. And I revised a few things, but they seemed around the same length.

I've read that that when it comes to writers, they either a natural adders or subtractors. I guess I'm an adder. But anytime I went to add something, I made damn sure it belonged here.

If it doesn't move the story, build the world, or build the characters, what the hell is it doing in there?

I finished the second draft on March 29, 2009. So, give or take six weeks.

The time had come for a few trusted souls to read it again and scrub it clean, so I could try to sell it.