Now that I hit that fabulous The End, I now find myself hip-deep in revision. The next few craft posts will no doubt reflect that. You’ve been warned. =)

Some writers say that it’s best to go through the whole manuscript, start to finish, multiple times, with a different revision goal in mind each time. For me (since I have a list of 40-odd things to look for) this sounds like a nightmare.

What I’m doing right now is going through my first draft and marking off a monster list of Things To Check For. Initially, I thought I could do this one scene at a time. Instead, I’m doing it one page at a time, and I look for each of the things on my list, one at a time, before going to the next page and starting all over.

In case you’re dying to know what areas I scrutinize in my own work, here’s the list:

Today I came across a critiquing checklist compiled by Miriam Pace. For your edification, I am reprinting it here, in hopes that you’ll comment on what you agree with, disagree with, would add, or would subtract. IMHO, #20 is a bit vague, #19 is difficult to be impartial about if you’re the one who wrote the story (although I’m referencing the guideline for self-editing, it is intended for critiquing the work of others), and #17 has questionable value. Some people swear by that one… I don’t even check for it, except to make sure I don’t run on sentences for 4+ lines.

1. Is there a first paragraph hook?

2. Within the first few paragraphs, does the writer establish:
a. WHO the main character is
b. WHAT the problem is (a hint only)
c. WHERE the story takes place
d. WHEN the story takes place
e. WHY the character is there, doing whatever

3. Does the writer start building characterization immediately? (Through action, dialogue, narrative, posture, mannerism, furnishings, etc.)

4. Does each character have a distinctive voice?

5. Are the characters sympathetic, interesting, believable?

6. Is conflict present? Strong? Relevant? Will the conflict sustain the word count?

7. Does the plot unfold naturally through action and dialogue? Are there too many passages of long narrative introspection which might bore the reader?
Is the plot too neat, contrived, not believable? Does it rely too heavily on coincidence? Do sudden twists grow out of the story or come out of the blue?
Does plot development reveal a meaningful, convincing theme?
Is there a central focus? Can the reader follow the story without getting bogged down in confusion?

8. Does each scene move the plot forward? Does the scene build upon past scenes and prepare the reader for future scenes? Has each scene been developed as fully as possible? Does each scene create maximum impact?

9. Is the pacing correct for the story? Does it fit the mood?

10. Does the story flow? Are transitions natural and smooth?

11. Does every character, scene, bit of dialogue, action and conflict serve a purpose? Is everything necessary?

12. Is there too much stage direction?

13. Is background material slipped in subtly and naturally?

14. Is there purple prose–too many adjectives and adverbs? Are too many trite phrases, or cliches, used?

15. Are action or descriptive verbs used whenever possible?

16. Is the grammar acceptable?

17. Are sentence structure and length varied?

18. Does the writer set a consistent tone? Do characters act in a manner consistent with their personalities?

19. Do you believe the story? Do you care about the characters?

20. What are the strong parts? What are the weak parts?

Today I read an interview about revision by Kia Cochrane, a SIM author. She suggests starting the process by creating a character fact sheet. No, not the complicated spreadsheet detailing the character’s BMI and childhood pets, but rather a sort of dossier of information *as presented* in your story. For example, if you say, “John’s calloused fingers tangled in his black Mohawk,” then that’s what you write in your character fact sheet under “Physical”. And if you say, “As usual, Jane’s pouting lips and heaving breasts revved up John’s heart rate like the engine on his Harley,” then that’s what you put under “Emotional”. Write it down exactly as it is in your MS. A chapter/scene/page number may also be useful here.

What you’re looking for in the physical is that you don’t repeat yourself. “John’s calloused fingers” may work in Scene 1, but if they make an appearance in scenes 7, 11, 20, 21, 33, and so on, then break out a thesaurus, or describe something else, or skip the adjective the next time, etc.

What you’re looking for in the emotional is a visual representation of the character’s emotional state throughout the story as it pertains to conflict and characterization. If you’re like me, and you get to know your characters better and better as the chapters go on, then the first half of the story (or so) is missing some (or a lot) of the detail you learned about that character by the end of the story. If in Chapter 20, Jane has agoraphobia or thinks she’s allergic to small children, then you’ve got to sprinkle a hint of that in toward the beginning of the story.

Once you’ve got your characters chronicled, next up are the places. Cochrane suggests creating a place fact sheet, in which you write down every line pertaining to that place. So if you say, “John’s kitchen was a mess of cracked Formica, ratty orange curtains, and cat hair,” then it better look along those lines every time (unless John hires a maid.) A chapter/scene/page number may also be useful here. Besides consistency, this also lets you see where you’re sprinkling in the details, and how much you’re dumping on the reader at a time.

Another chart she mentions creating is a weather list / timeline. I already track time for my stories in my own spreadsheet (If you’re dying to know the columns, it goes: Scene Number, Scene Description, Day, Time, POV Character, Character Goal, Discoveries?, Turning Points?, Disaster.) Keeping track of the weather, however silly it may sound, is actually a great idea. In the first full-length novel I wrote as an adult, I had a chapter that took place during a storm. Although each descriptor was phrased differently and evoked (I thought) vivid imagery, I was heavy-handed enough that one critiquer said something along the lines of, “It’s a storm. I get it. The setting in this chapter is a one-note song.” Oops. A weather chart would’ve helped me to prevent oversaturating the reader with different versions of the same thing.

The last thing Cochrane mentions is creating a storyline, detailing (can you guess?) the events as they progress through your book. If you paid attention to the details of my spreadsheet (previous paragraph) then you know that I already do this one. I learned from experience that it’s really the best way for me to stay on track. I create it as I go during the first draft, and refer to it frequently during revision.

Today I read an article by Leigh Michaels on self-critiquing romance novels. In this article, she delineates 5 possible causes of stories that aren’t working.

1. There’s no conflict. (AKA, the big “conflict” is actually a misunderstanding.)

I forget who first said it (I should Google it, but I’m feeling really lazy right now) but a well-worn axiom is this: It’s not conflict if sitting down for a heart-to-heart would clear everything up. Conflict means something major is at stake, not that something is misunderstood.

2. Either the characters aren’t realistic and sympathetic, or they’re not behaving in realistic and sympathetic ways.

I’ve fallen victim to this one, myself. In my ill-fated first manuscript, both my hero and my heroine had their TSTL moments. (TSTL = Too Stupid To Live.) They were not behaving realistically. In my second manuscript, I had a few readers who said they couldn’t get into the head of the hero and/or the heroine. Most likely, this meant I hadn’t made them sympathetic enough.

3. Nothing forces the character(s) to remain in the situation.

Have you ever watched a horror movie where, say, the house is filled with cantankerous poltergeists, and the characters run around (typically half-dressed) until they all die, and you think to yourself, “Man, I would’ve been outta there right when Johnny got impaled with the table leg” or whatever? Exactly. If you would split, then so would your character. Even if the situation isn’t as dire, such as two characters not liking each other in a romance, there better be a valid reason for them to hang around each other until that dislike turns into love.

4. The romance is not the heart of the book.

In any story with a growing relationship, the relationship has to, well, grow. We can’t have them meet in chapter one, chase around a gang of international jewel thieves for 18 chapters, then marry in chapter 20 to live happily ever after. The relationship must develop gradually and visibly throughout the course of the story.

5. Simply put, the story isn’t told well.

Yikes, right? But hey. It happens. Maybe there’s too much exposition, or unclear wording, or missing details, or slow starts, or clunky scenes, or rushed drama, or random action/dialogue, or too much telling instead of showing, etc, etc.

Michaels leaves us with another thought regarding interference by secondary characters. She says, “Whether this is intended to create trouble between the hero and heroine or to bring them together, it takes the focus off the main relationship. The hero and heroine should solve their own problems.”

Today I read an interview on creating heroes readers believe in, by Michael Hauge. Technically, he referred to viewers (since he’s a screenwriter and coach) but many of the same principles apply to the written word.

Hauge says there are 5 ways to evoke reader identification, and that at least 2 of them must be present when the character is first introduced.

These are:

1. Make the character sympathetic. Make the reader feel sorry for him/her.

2. Put the character in jeopardy. Make the reader worry about him/her.

3. Show the character’s goodheartedness. Make the reader like him/her.

4. Make the character funny. Make the reader laugh at the antics s/he gets away with.

5. Make the character powerful. Make the reader wish to be like him/her.

Regarding the hero’s GMC, Hauge reminds us, “There must be obstacles that seem insurmountable to be overcome in the pursuit of [the visible, external] goal. In facing those obstacles, there must the need for courage. If your hero isn’t terrified in the course of your [story], then the audience isn’t going to care.”

Today I read an article on Sagging Middles by Alicia Rasley. I chose this article because I myself am in the middle of my story and was immobilized by a Sagging Problem for a few days. I’ll talk a little about the article (which I read after the fact, unfortunately) and then about what happened to me and what I did to fix it.

Rasley begins by reminding us that the middle is for conflict develoment, scene/setting exploration, character development, theme exploration, and propelling the plot forward using strong cause-and-effect sequences.

The latter is where I went wrong in the first full-length book I ever wrote. My middle was full of scenes–some funny, some sexy, some scary, whatever–but they were all just scenes. They didn’t affect the plot. They didn’t move anything forward. They weren’t a result of something else and they didn’t cause anything else. No matter how well-written such scenes may be, they’re horrible because they’re useless, and they must be ruthlessly cut from the manuscript. (Said manuscript is now shoved into its under-the-bed grave, since to cut the middle would leave nothing more than the first and last chapters.)

Many authors suggest making sure all scenes do at least double duty. Rasley suggests triple duty, that each scene should not only advance the external plot but also do at least two of the following: [quoting]

• Develop character.
• Show character interaction.
• Explore setting or culture and values.
• Introduce new character or subplot.
• Forward subplot.
• Increase tension and suspense.
• Increase reader identification.
• Anticipate solution to problem.
• Divert attention from solution (but still show it).
• Show how character reacts to events or causes events.
• Show event from new point of view.
• Foreshadow some climactic event.
• Flashback or tell some mysterious past event that has consequences now.
• Reveal something the protagonist has kept hidden.
• Reveal something crucial to protagonist and/or reader.
• Advance or hinder protagonist’s “quest”.

These aren’t necessarily scene tasks we choose in advance before writing a scene, but more something to keep in mind when revising the first draft to make the middle section stronger.

OK, so back to *my* issues. =)

My middle seemed to stall out. It seemed to go by too quickly. The resolution was drawing too near and it wasn’t the right time yet. (I was about 2/3 through the story.) And then I realized–it really *wasn’t* the right time yet! I had planned to wrap up the story before the conflict was really resolved.

I realized a few more things needed to fall into place with my characters before a reader would believe that the ending was both logical and inevitable. And once I figured out what needed to happen, my mojo came roaring back.

I’ve been tearing up the keyboard ever since. Speaking of which… I better get back to my story!