Sandra Scofield - The Last Draft: A Novelists Guide to Revision

Were an odd lot, novelists. Obsessive. Why else does someone launch a project that consumes so much time and holds out such a wavering promise of reward? I wrote my first three novels in deep nightthe only time I hadand I used to put things away (in a dish bucket, set against the kitchen wall) in a tired heave of sadness, as if I might never pick them up again, as if my fledgling world might never be real. And of course it never was, because thats a large part of the siren call of the novel: Come hither and create your own world. Put what you know and believe and want into story. Defy the randomness of real life; make meaning. This is a long-haul project and it is so much a part of who you are, you cant imagine not doing it, not even if it takes years.

Maybe you, like me, write in your hidey-hole and people who know you have no idea how much youve taken on. Maybe youve found a workshop or a graduate program to help you in your endeavor. Either way, you must know by now that you have a world of figuring out to do.

Just know this: You are uniquely you, and the novel you write is one nobody else can.

Ive written seven novels. That doesnt count the first one; I spent years, only to discover when it was done that I was sick of it. (I had learned a lot, though.) It doesnt count the one I lost. (I thought I stored it in the linen closet, but it wasnt there when I searched for it.) It doesnt count drafts, thats for sure. It doesnt count false starts (a box of them), or the ones Ive been writing in my head for a decade while I tell myself Im done with novels. (I have been writing other things, but this book has stirred some ideas.)

Ive read shelves and shelves of novels. Hundreds of reviews. (Ive written them, too.) Stacks of criticism. Biographies and memoirs of writers. But what matters to the present subject is this: I have immersed myself in the struggles of at least two hundred aspiring novelists, many in one-week workshops in summer writing festivals over twenty-plus years, and others in semester-long or year-long mentorships. I immerse myself in outlines and drafts. These writers have put themselves out there in a scary, exciting way. It has been my privilege to help them find new insights and fresh resolve. There is among aspiring writers an incredible range of interests, backgrounds, sense of story, and confidence, but there are many things they have in common. They are readers. They are intrigued by human nature. They are dogged.

Since 2005 I have been teaching in low-residency masters programs, mentoring students in workshops and online. I have been coach and cheerleader. I have tried to understand what each writer is striving for, and to help that writer reach her goal. I have constructed exercises to guide the shaping of a manuscript. The opportunity to work one-on-one has been as instructive to me as it has been to my students, and workshops have been exhilarating and enlightening.

One day it dawned on me that every summer, every semester, I have reinvented the wheel. Now, going through my teaching materials, I see that, however I may have recast notes, talks, exercises, and guidelines, there are consistent themes. I want to share what I have learned in my writing and teaching life, with special gratitude for the generosity of so many writers over so many years.

You can find many books to help you produce the first draft of a novel, especially if you subscribe to a popular theory of story much loved by screenwriters. Their strategy of structuring with acts, journeys, plot points, and arcs seems to be ratified by the success of many commercial movies, but is less helpful in developing deep story. If you want to review the basics of screenplay structure, you should read Syd Field, who popularized the model thirty years ago. You can also find genre-specific plot guides by writers like Orson Scott Card (fantasy), James Frey (mystery), Regina Brooks (young adult), and many others. I offer my own way of seeing a writers work, assuming that most writers accumulate advice the way painters accumulate brushes. If you are writing a first draft, the principles and strategies discussed in this book can help you think about your story. Just dont get caught up in too much self-criticism too early on. Use my ideas as prompts, not as prescription. If you do use a plot scheme to develop a first draft, this book can help you deepen your manuscript by refining your vision and intention for the story.

My advice is short and simple.

1. You should feel driven by a story you want to tell, even if you dont know every nuance of it.
2. You must be able to live with the ambiguity of the enterprise.