I’m eighty-eight pages into the second draft, which means it’s time to put down my laptop for a moment and check in with you, oh loyal reader of these rambling and soon-to-be-concluded ghostwriter diaries. Why pause for breath on this particular page? Read on and you’ll find out.
This might be the second draft, but it’s actually the fifth time I’ve I plunged into this fantasy world to share the lives of these fictional characters (whom I have, incidentally, grown to love). The first time was when I got the outline, the skeleton on which it’s my job to put the flesh. The second time was when I wrote the first draft, and the third time was when I reviewed that draft prior to submission.
The fourth time came last week, when I worked through the copy changes that have been made directly by the editorial team. The vast majority of these were smart, snappy and irrefutably correct, so the process was largely a matter of speedreading to each edit point, considering the change and accepting it.
So, what’s this fifth pass all about?
In addition to making the changes I mentioned above, the editorial team has also peppered the manuscript with comments. They’ve highlighted all the places where a character’s motivation needs adjustment or clarification, where the tension needs ramping up, or where tweaks to their ongoing storyline (this is the first book of a trilogy) necessitate some or other alteration. They’ve also targeted all the spots where my first-draft prose just doesn’t quite cut the mustard … yes, there are a few of those.
Unlike the specific edits, these more generalised comments require considerable thought. Sometimes they require me to rewrite a paragraph or two. I might need to devise ways to connect one chapter with another. Perhaps there’s an underlying theme that needs emphasising. It’s delicate work. By this point in the process, the novel’s internal clockwork has been crafted to a high level. If I shift those cogs around too much, I risk jamming up the works.
Pass Number Five is by far the most important part of the editing process. When it’s done, and if there’s any gas left in the tank, I intend to tackle the manuscript one more time. By the time I start this sixth and final pass, my eyes will be far from fresh. By the time I finish it, they may very well be bleeding.
Fortunately, I have a trick up my sleeve. I plan to do my sixth edit from the driving seat of a stainless steel deLorean, speeding along at (you guessed it) 88 miles per hour. Why? Because the only conceivable way to shed all the baggage I’ve accrued during the creation of this book is to travel back in time, back to the moment where I am both a first-draft writer and a first-time reader. The moment when anything is still possible.
Well, it worked for Marty McFly.
Graham Edwards 