Writing is rewriting. Writing is rewriting. Writers know that, or think they do, until it’s pointed out to them that it’s time for yet another rewrite. If you are a writer, if it’s in your bones, you look at the subject of the suggestion for a rewrite and get to work rewriting. All writers, published or emerging, know about rewriting.
Readers who are not writers don’t think about how many times the story they are enjoying was rewritten. And that’s the point. It should not feel rewritten, and by the time a novel sees the light of day, it should read as though the writer had not labored over every sentence and tweaked every word—but she did.
Rejection, rejection, rejection: repeat
Stories of rejection are widely known, and some are amusing now, although I know they weren’t at the time:
JK Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone was rejected 14 times
Margaret Mitchell’s Gone With The Wind was rejected 38 times
George Orwell’s Animal Farm was rejected because “It is impossible to sell animal stories in the USA”
The Diary of Anne Frank was rejected because “The girl doesn’t, it seems to me, to have a special perception or feeling which would lift that book above the curiosity level.” Hmmm… that sentence could use a rewrite.
All is rewritten, and not on the wind
Emerging writers hold these rejections close when yet another one of their own comes across the bar. Tales of rewriting are not so prominent.With the exception of Anne Frank, what we don’t know is how many times Rowling, Mitchell and Orwell rewrote all or parts of their novels—but there’s little doubt that they did. There are exceptions: Edna O’Brien claimed that The Country Girls trilogy wrote themselves, which may be hyperbole or truth; they are wonderful novels regardless. But not too many instances of such claims come to mind.
Even biographies of published and famous writers don’t mention rewriting, other than the mention of an editor’s help, or in the case of To Kill A Mockingbird, the editor totally rewriting the author’s version into the novel we know. Biographers don’t dwell on the writer’s daily tooth brushing, either. A biography has to move along just as a novel does to keep the emotional and intellectual momentum. And so this important fact of a writing life remains in the closet, until the emerging writer discovers it for herself. As mentioned above, if writing is in your bones, if you can’t give it up, you’ll take the suggestion for a rewrite as pure gold, settle in, and rewrite.
Writers Are Not Alone
All artists rewrite, as it were. Musicians, dancers, actors, painters, sculptors and architects all practice a form of rewriting. The preparation—rehearsals, study, daily practice, making sketches and tweaking them— take the place of a writer’s twelfth tweak of a sentence. However, writers have more latitude. We can obliterate characters or change the plot utterly before publication. The tree painted is pretty much the tree painted—the amount of tweaking possible is minimal. Once a cellist plays a note, a singer sings, or an actor speaks a line, it can’t be placed back in the bottle. The preparation, the rewriting, is more on display for other artists.
No Palm Trees Please
The act of rewriting is a fact of life, but not only in art. Gardening, baking, and cooking all demand change and tweaking as the practitioner grows in skills and knowledge: these activities demand practice. The gardener often must yield to the force of nature as well. No matter how skilled she is, planting palm trees along the border of Vermont will not work.
Privacy
Writers are lucky that their first and fiftieth attempts at a sentence are private. We have the luxury of having the time to think about every word before we commit to one. Rewriting is a fact of life. If writing is a fact of life for you, then rewriting must be too: writing is rewriting.