How to Revise Your Novel - Without Burning Out

Last week I started my Tornado C revisions in earnest.  I set a personal goal to revise one chapter every two days—and so far I've stuck to it.  Today I'm on Chapter 5 out of 24.  Even though Chapters 1-5 are some of the shortest in the book, I'm still surprised at how quickly I'm moving.

And what's even more surprising is how I'm not getting tired of my revisions, in what's known as "burning out".

There are different stages of burning out.  The first stage is just getting tired of what you're doing.  The second stage is where the quality starts getting affected—you start slogging through the revisions, and rather than examining your work, you're glossing over your work.

And finally, you just get so sick and tired of looking at your novel all day long that you quit, sometimes for weeks on end.  I've had these symptoms before; we all have.

But what's remarkable about my Tornado C revisions is that, up to this point, I haven't even hit the first stage of burn-out.  Sure, sometimes I feel like Facebook is more fun than revisions, but I'm not tired of it, not yet.

So what's so different about THESE revisions?

I've noticed a few different things that help keep me from burning out—and I feel a list coming on.  Here we go!

1. Be well-rested.

Besides my Will Vullerman revisions last month, and a few small projects here and there, I have not done any heavy writing since NaNoWriMo last year.

And that makes a big difference.  I'm ready to get working on a new project, and I have all of that pent-up creative energy to spend.

2. Set a modest and achievable goal.

The reason I put "modest" in there is that "achievable" needs to be modified.  NaNoWriMo is achievable.  Yet few writing bonanzas have more burn-outs than that infamous contest in November.

Setting a modest goal makes you feel like you're getting stuff done—and you are.  Just keep going at it, steadily, but don't make your goals so high that you have to crunch to meet your deadlines.  That'll keep you from burning out.

This worked really well in my own revisions.  I set a goal of revising one chapter every two days—so far it's required one or two hours a day to get it done, which isn't bad at all.

3. Be prepared.

This is, by far, the most important of the three tips, and the one I've seen make the most difference in my own novel.

My personal preparations were a little elaborate.  I started out by refining my world-building and composing several long works on culture and politics, in addition to drawing supplementary maps.  (What can I say?  I'm one of those world-building geeks.  I love it.)

Then I wrote down all of the writing tips I've found most helpful in my own life, and ones that people have recommended to me.  After that, I reread my novel, making notes as I went.  I identified all of the weakest points—the characters that didn't make sense, the rockiest parts of my prose, the plot holes, the pacing problems.

After that (I see your eyes growing wider; don't worry, I'll be finished soon) I put my writing tips and weak points together and wrote myself a revision plan.  I found all of the questions I would need to ask to revise each chapter, and I put them into my plan.  It ended up being twenty-one steps, in order from the most general to the most specific—my beginning questions had to do with plot and character, and my ending questions had to do with passive voice and adverbs and telling.

For instance, my first question was this: 1. "Reimagine the scene.  What could go differently?  What could go wrong?"  It was followed by, "Determine the goal of the scene: add setbacks and tension."

One of my last questions was, "Examine adverbs and adjectives and eliminate where necessary."  That let me deal with the big picture first, and let me end on the nuts and bolts of sentence structure.

Obviously, to be prepared, you don't have to write yourself an elaborate revision plan.  But knowing just what's wrong with your novel, and brainstorming how you could fix it, helps your revisions go smoothly and quickly.  I found that "mapping out" my plots on paper was especially helpful, since I could see the plot holes visually and try to brainstorm ways to fill those holes—through setbacks and disasters.

Remember, good stories are not written—they are rewritten.  And good concepts, too.  Look at your novel with a critical eye and try to pick apart what's wrong before you actually start revising.

If you're prepared, well-rested, and you have a set goal—well, I can't imagine a better way to keep from burning out!

What about you?  Have you found any tricks that are especially helpful in avoiding burn-out?

Some Thoughts, and an Excerpt from TVOG

I haven't been avoiding this blog on purpose.  But when life has you by the neck, it's usually best to get out of the noose before browsing the internet.

That being said, I have almost zero to say; no updates, no pithy posts concerning writing, (alas) no extraordinarily eloquent exhortations.  Right now we're renovating the house in preparation for our move, and that pushes out pretty much everything else—including writing and blogging.

That doesn't include reading, thankfully.  A fellow missionary kid loaned me a omnibus of The Chronicles of Narnia a while ago, and I finished devouring it yesterday.  Ah!  Such goodness!

Aside from those random notes, I figured I'd give you something to chew on over Christmas break.  (More likely than not, this is the last time you'll hear from me in a while!)

*drumroll*

An excerpt from the Voice of God!

This scene takes place at the highest point of Myrkvar, at a building called the Seat of God.  Edon, the main character, is coming before the High Presbytery of Myrk for the first time.  (The Presbytery pretty much governs everyone in Myrk and rules from the Seat of God.)

And again, this is woefully unedited and rather choppy.  The description is a bit much and needs to be refined. ^_^  Thoughts on the whole would be appreciated!

--

A massive arch without doors guarded the front entrance, and into it were carved many symbols that Edon didn't recognize.  The tall walls of the hall fanned out from both sides, pocketed with designs and reliefs, so many of which that Edon didn't see half of them before they had reached the arch. 

On either side of the arch—which was wide enough for three men to pass without touching each other—stood two men. They wore simple white tunics and trousers, and wore a white cap on their heads. They both held smooth, bone-white staffs.

 “Welcome,” one said. “Sentinel Iorkus?”

The Sentinel knelt and touched his forehead to the stone floor before the arch. “I come in the name of God.”

The man inclined his head slightly, and enunciated his words carefully. “Welcome in the most holy Name of God. The Presbytery expects thee, and thy companions.”

“Thank ye.”

The man bowed and gestured inside. Sentinel Iorkus rose and unwound his shoes, motioning for the rest to do likewise. Edon pulled off the straps holding his shoe in place and kicked them off, following Iorkus, who walked reverently beneath the arch.

Edon found himself in what felt like an ancient temple built by supernatural hands. Massive, serrated columns of stone held up the straight curve of the ceiling, which didn't quite come to a point; three quarters of the way, the roof cut off and twilight shone through, a path of silver leading to the end of the hall.

The large stones of the floor were in a checkerboard pattern, alternating a glowing white and an obsidian black, and the pillars likewise alternated between black and white.

When Edon reached the end of this trail of silver, the hall billowed out into a perfect circle with no roof at all. The floor was completely white, with a solitary black star in the center, edged with gold. Around this massive circle there were walls painted with frescoes of the ages; battles and famines and centuries of peace. Some paintings were chipped in age, and some glowed as if they had been painted the day before. Directly in front of Edon, held up on a pedestal of white stone, was a larger-than-life replica of the Sacred Sword, plated in gold and beaten until it gleamed. Beneath it there was an empty throne of white stone draped in purple. The arms of the throne were carved as two roaring lions, and the pedestal holding the Sacred Sword composed the back.

On either side of the throne, smaller seats of a similar make curved symmetrically around the silver-lit circle of the hall. Counting the throne, there were forty-nine seats, seven sevens: twenty-four on either side of the great throne. Upon those seats sat forty-eight men robed in white.

And the eyes of every single man were fixed upon the newcomers.

--

Yeah, sometimes I go to town on the descriptions, at the cost of writing quality.  But hopefully the image of the silver-lit Seat of God is now as vivid in your mind as it was in mine.

What about you?  Have any awe-inspiring locations in your writings?

A Worldbuilding Fiasco

This post will be short, but I have a couple points to make about worldbuilding in a fantasy or science-fiction world.  Don't worry, more news on The War Horn will be coming soon: hold your horses and I'll get to you as soon as I can.

So I just have one question...does anyone else feel the pressure to worldbuild like nobody's business?  Like, on a "Silmarillion" scale?

That's what's been plaguing me lately.  I'm five thousand words into a document titled "A History of the Elathim".  And I'm not even halfway through with my "worldbuilding".

You see, this document basically records the history of this fantasy world, and specifically of a certain people.  To give you an idea of how massive this project is (in comparison to writing out a "quick" history), I'm writing the history of seven nations, their fall, and the rise of the three other nations (or mini-empires, more like) that took their place.  Right now, I'm done with the preliminary histories of TWO of those first seven nations.  That's what took up five thousand words.

Besides this, I've written out a royal genealogy for two of the nations (and hope to write one out for each nation), in addition to drawing out a detailed map of all seven kingdoms.  And I created a non-Roman calendar.

Seriously.

I really did think that I was just writing out a short little background on the history of this people, but it's looking like this little project will end up being more than fifteen thousand words, minimum.  One thing led to another, and I had all kinds of things to sort out.  It's actually like exploring new territory.  I've got a genealogy with 36 names on it, and each name has a story behind it.  (Resist the urge to explain, resist the urge, resist the urge...)

So that brings me back to my first question....does anyone worldbuild obsessively like I do?  I feel kind of alone here. XD If so, feel free to let us know how you do it, at least for my state of mind.

I'll leave you with an example of my madness...a quote that touches on primitive genetics.

"It seems to me to be evident that....the traits of the Elarasters are passed on from one generation to the next, like a family heirloom might; but this is contained within their blood, in packets, if you will, of information that determine the life of a man or woman....however, I estimate that it only manifests itself once in a thousand births, or less, and only among the Elathim." — Loc Shallin, "A Treatise on the Origins of the Elarasters" Printed in 829 W.C.

I have to admit, though...this worldbuilding is great fun.  XD  You ought to try it.