The best thing that ever happened to me as a writer was learning to revise. Back in my younger days as a writer, I didn’t revise. I mistakenly (and romantically) thought that the muses would shine upon me and turn my words to gold as I spun them out behind me — prose already perfect from the beginning.
Ha.
My turning point came when I started writing and workshopping plays. Suddenly this illusion I’d concocted — that my first drafts were pristine towers of unalterable perfection — burned away and I could see through the glass clearly: my first drafts were actually just big hunks of clay waiting to be molded and massaged into later perfection. They were the first step, not the last.
Lately I’ve noticed that this process of revision isn’t just for writing. Time after time in my design work, I’ve seen the magic of a fourth or fifth iteration turn a blah design into something awesome. Brett Helquist was talking at a symposium a month ago and showed some of the drafts for his illustrations for the Lemony Snicket covers, and bam, it hit me that visual artists revise just as much as writers. Ditto for composers and dancers and everyone else.
Sure, there are people who can turn out genius work on the first try, but they’re exceptions. The rest of us have to tackle the work over and over again, trying to see its true form and get rid of everything else, willing to scrap the whole thing and start from scratch if necessary.
I’m not dissing first drafts, by the way. There’s a passion and an excitement in seeing the first embryonic stages of a work come to life — making something new, something the world has never seen before. That’s heady stuff. You just have to mix passion and polish, that’s all.
As for me, I’m excited to take this process of revision and apply it to my music. Back in 2000 and 2001 I wrote several piano pieces, but they’re all (noticeably cough) first drafts. I could tell that they weren’t all that great, either. But now, knowing how to revise, I can start getting better. (That’s the other thing: revision makes you a better artist. It really does.)
Not that I have a one-track mind or anything ;), but revision is essential in relationships, too. Things don’t automatically work out perfectly unless you’re in a romantic comedy; in real life, you have to fix things as you go along, retooling the relationship as both of you grow and learn (both about each other and about yourselves). You can’t just turn on autopilot and expect everything to work out all hunky-dory.
You know what? I just realized that revision isn’t just for art or for relationships — it’s a way of life. Period. The whole thing. Think about it.
Comments
Selah.
Yup, I’m in revision number two, but I had the help of a developmental editor, so at least she has shortened the length of time and number of revisions necessary to make this thing readable.
Same thing can be said for marriage counselors, art classes, mentors–we’re all valuable in our own way.
So, so true. Rewriting, revising, editing… That’s the way to victory.
And I completely agree with that last note–life is about revision. Thank Heavens (no pun intended) for repentance.
Hoorah for revision. This is an interesting and difficult lesson for me to learn, as applied to life. I’m alreayd a big fan of revising my written works but as far as life … er, well, we’ll see. Wonderful insight as always Ben!
Yeah. Programming works that way too.
I try to take an experimental approach to life. It’s much less stressful when you go into a situation with the goal of learning what you can from it rather than feeling that if you don’t accomplish your goal, you’ve utterly failed.
Throw in your two cents