As you can tell from the title of this small epigraph, I’m in the middle of doing a rewrite. Rewrites require an entirely different mindset than writing does. It’s a mindset that can be terrible deconstructive, and outright destructive, too, if you let it go too far.
With this particular masterpiece, I’ve been quite happy with the main story, the beginning and the middle. But the end has been a source of concern (to put it mildly). And why? Because of the subplot. There is none.
Your subplot helps bring about a gentle denouement. Without one, your story might seem to end with what I can only call a crash landing. Once all the effort and action stops, there’s usually a softer scene, one in which people catch their breath and enjoy the new sense of equilibrium. The secondary storyline often helps with that. So in my case, I know what the action will be; it’s the gentle denouement that’s worrying me.
At least it was.
Now, in the middle of the rewrite, I of course, see other things I’d like to change. While the changes will require much more work, I’m glad I spotted them. When implemented, they’ll impart a richness that will be quite satisfying.
The other day, I attended a writers’ panel at the Mid-Manhattan Library. During the question and answer session, someone asked the panel how a writer knows when his or her manuscript is ready. “How do you know when there’s no more need for a rewrite?”
For me, the moment comes first when I know I can’t stand to read the story anymore. I mean get physically ill at the sight of it. My eyes glaze over. It isn’t a matter of whether the story needs another rewrite; it’s simply that, at that point, I’m incapable of doing one. The solution is set the manuscript aside for a while. Or switch to another writing project. When you take it up again, you’ll see it with renewed vision.
But I think the true answer to the question is, “Never.”
You never know that there’s no more need of a rewrite.
I think most writers will point to their published works, even years down the line, and know that if it were under their hands again, they would work parts of it differently. That’s the nature of creativity and skill.
What’s most important, however, is that you write as well as you possibly can at a given time. When you realize that you’ve done it as well as you possibly could, then that’s the time to let it go.
