Reimagining Revision: Some New Ideas for Rebooting Your Stories

Revision is a crucial step of the storytelling process, although the type of creativity we employ during this stage feels different than the energy that fuels freewriting or drafting. In his craft guide, Wonderbook, Jeff VanderMeer even suggests that revision is governed by a separate area of the brain: a “technical imagination” that is capable of seeing a story as a whole, analyzing its structure, and making “the elements of narrative work together in synergistic ways” (VanderMeer 69). It follows, then, that revision should be treated differently than drafting – that revision isn’t simply a continuation of a first draft, but a process wholly apart, an analytic evaluation that dissects and considers the story from a top-down perspective. 

This type of approach makes sense in theory, but it’s intimidating, and also a far cry from the revision methodology that I typically tend to employ. My usual process, especially for shorter pieces, involves printing out the story in question, reading through and make some illegible margin notes (e.g., “cut”; “tighter”; “doesn’t make sense”) and then turning back to the computer to begin addressing these vague margin notes in linear fashion. 

Perhaps my “rush” to start chipping away at the story, line by line, is driven by an anxiousness to get started, or a desire to be “efficient.” Or perhaps, it’s lazy resistance to structuring a more well-thought-out plan. In any event, it felt time to reimagine my process for short story revisions. So for my speculative story, “Rare Creatures” (now featured in Orca Literary Magazine), I studied and employed several unique approaches, using Jeff VanderMeer’s Wonderbook and Lynda Barry’s What It Is as my guides. My main takeaways from my study are outlined below.

Step One: Walk Away from the Computer

Both Jeff VanderMeer and Lynda Barry strongly believe in the power of handwriting as a tool for unlocking imagination and re-envisioning a work of fiction. Indeed, in Wonderbook, VanderMeer stresses that “[r]evision is work that should not be done on a computer” (VanderMeer 267). Barry, too, suggests that handwriting releases new creativity: that the act invokes a “state of mind which is not accessible by thinking” (Barry 106). 

I’m always trying to “write efficiently” with my limited writing time, hence in part why I turn to the computer and often shy away from side-writing exercises. But as Barry asks, what would happen if I stopped thinking of every creative endeavor as “work?” What if I introduced more play into my revision process, understanding that some of my writing will never actually “live” inside the story? 

In order to tee up this state of play, I committed to doing my revision work primarily by hand. 

Step Two: Handwritten Story Diagnostic 

VanderMeer recommends printing out a story draft and outlining it in reverse, what he calls “stress testing your story’s structure” in order to see the story’s true narrative shape (VanderMeer 260). Per VanderMeer, this process allows writers to analyze each story scene – noting the scene’s action, information conveyed, causes and effects, and consequences – and flagging those that are stagnant or illogical, or places where the story is too bloated or lean.

I employed VanderMeer’s diagnostic methodology and found the results fascinating: after mapping my story onto “scene” flashcards, it was easy to spot which scenes were slow, and which of the more dynamic scenes needed extra page space. This “reverse outline” also gave me a firmer grasp of my story as it was written (versus how I thought of it in the abstract), and where I could condense or expand various parts of the narrative to add depth and interest.

Step Three: Character Analysis

VanderMeer also suggests that writers run a diagnostic of their characters via a circular diagram, mapping their characters’ relationships, and how these relations can be further strengthened, complicated or made more interesting. He also advises writers to reflect on their characters’ hidden pasts in order to add “depth, layering and connectivity” to the story (VanderMeer 261). This advice reminded me of your voice note in our recent packet correspondence, when you suggested that every secondary character have a secret in order to infuse the narrative with more nuance and mystery (McOmber voice note). 

Barry, too, has interesting advice for how to reimagine a story’s characters. If a writer is struggling to find their story’s emotional engine, Barry suggests that they draw inspiration from the age-old notion of “monsters.” She says that every child has a “certain something that really scared us, and seemed to have it in for us. A ‘something’ we had to defend ourselves against in secret ways” (Barry 64). This “personalized monster,” Barry says, is usually informed by people or things in our lives that terrify us (e.g., for Barry, the Gorgon monster recalled her abusive mother). Barry’s reflections got me thinking: could my character’s deep wound ultimately stem from a “monster?” Could I tap into my own fears on the page and breathe new life and personal meaning into my character? At the very least, could I free-write about my protagonist Calla’s fears and dreams, to ensure that her desires are driving engines of the story?

For this revision, I tried both VanderMeer and Barry’s suggestions. VanderMeer’s “character wheel” was such a fresh way to jumpstart brainstorming the relationships and secrets of the characters, and helped me cook up additional ways to entangle the characters. I also used Barry’s “monster” prompts to brainstorm possible needs and wants for Calla, and Barry’s related side-writing exercises triggered some character insights.

Step Four: Allow Space for Reimagining

Lynda Barry has always placed a premium on “getting lost” in her creative work: instead of worrying about whether something is “good” or marketable, Barry says, a true artist must be willing to play (Barry 49). While many of her related exercises are aimed at the creation and drafting stages, I found them helpful and applicable to the revision process as well. 

Barry is a huge believer in the power of images, and frames an artist’s ability to “unearth” images as a skill that can be practiced, sharpened and perfected with time and dedication. She urges writers to brainstorm ten images from their past, or to lift ten images or nouns from their story; she then instructs her students to choose one of these images, consider prompting questions (e.g., who, what, when, where, why), set a timer for eight minutes and then write about the image without stopping (Barry 148-156). I lifted ten nouns unique to “Rare Creatures” (e.g., ice-bark forests, Wings, barn), and free-wrote about them using Barry’s prompts. I had a ton of fun and moreover, several of these free-writing sessions led to interesting breakthroughs. 

Step Five: Written Action Plan

I’m a big “list-maker” in my personal life (to-do lists, calendars, notebooks full of goals). But for some reason, I tend to resist “quantifying” or memorializing the scope of revision that I need to do for a story (most likely because I’ll find the list overwhelming). After re-reading VanderMeer’s Wonderbook, however, I realized that an action plan is more of a map than a to-do list – a guide that empowers, instead of overwhelms. So after completing the steps above, I reviewed them all looking for takeaways, action items, and how to group them into “revision passes” (e.g., a pass for building Calla’s internal desires and fears; a pass for adding some nuanced worldbuilding gleaned from Barry’s exercises; a pass for more firmly connecting the characters, etc.). 

This “top-down” mapping felt like an insurance plan: proof that I had a handle on what my story needed. I liked this process so much, I’m hoping to bring what I learned and gleaned to all short story revisions going forward.

WORKS CITED

Barry, Lynda. What It Is : Dramatically Illustrated with More Than Color Pictures. Drawn & Quarterly, 2017.

VanderMeer, Jeff. Wonderbook : An Illustrated Guide to Creating Imaginative Fiction. Abrams Image, 2013.