When I first started out writing I didn’t really understand what a rewrite was all about. I just thought it was for refining the words – felt I’d worked hard on my first draft and that was enough; all that remained was to check it flowed pleasantly. And to be totally honest I think part of it was laziness. It can be gruelling writing a novel – certainly when you are just starting out and aren’t used to the process – and the thought that I needed to look at the whole manuscript once more felt overwhelming.

This is probably why it took me several unpublished manuscripts to bag an agent! And to appreciate that the rewrite was a valuable opportunity to look at the project with fresh eyes – from a distance, at a less involved level, to really make sure that each component of the story (plotting, characterisation etc) was doing its job properly. And to not be scared of deconstructing the story. You have to be brave to make your novel the very best it can be.

So for anyone else who sometimes finds it difficult to know what the next step is, after finishing a first draft, the following – in my experience – are common reasons to rewrite:

The settings aren’t vibrant enough. Not only do settings help the reader visualise where the characters are, they can also reflect mood or hint at plot.  So during the rewrite I focus on really involving all of the five senses. Say my protagonist visits a coffee shop – I’ll develop the smells and noises. I’m thinking coffee grinding, a till bleeping, customers deep in chat, cutlery on plates. Delicious aromas might accompany a feel-good scene or give welcome relief after a drama, along with a warm, visually cosy decor. The amount of work you need to do will largely depend on how detailed your first draft is but speaking for myself I often get so excited about the plot and dialogue and focus on those things, that my first draft settings suffer.

By the same token characters are not fully developed. I don’t think much about my protagonist before I start a new manuscript. I just dive in and keep continually going back to tweak him/her as I go. By around Chapter 6 I usually have an in-depth idea of what they are like and can then just continue  moving forwards. However, as I mentioned above, when I write first draft I don’t do this with the minor characters that are mostly created as I go along. Consequently during the first read-through I’ve just done I even found I had to completely change some of the supporting cast’s motivations. This  meant adding in a couple of chapters. Minor characters are there to assist the plot and show important dimensions of the protagonist – how/why they were as they were, how/why they’ve changed. So whilst minor in presence, they are major in importance and should be fully thought-through and rounded.

The pace hasn’t resulted in a gripping read. There are not enough hooks to keep the reader turning the page – or there are but they are in the wrong places. Lulls in action (important because the reader needs to catch their breath) have resulted in unnecessary scenes that don’t move the plot forwards or develop the main character – this is something I personally have to watch out for. I like nothing more than sitting my characters down, for a chat, over a cup of coffee to recover from recent drama but more often than not these scenes serve no real purpose. Every page of the book has to earn its place in some way.

The narrative needs refining. For the most part my first draft is thrown down onto the page – that’s the best way I can describe it. So the metaphors or similes aren’t necessary appropriate. The rhythm of the sentences might not flow easily. There’s repetition. I might use adverbs too liberally. I might show – or tell – too much (I’m a great believer in tell having its place!) For me the main point of writing is to exactly transfer my thoughts and emotions onto the page. Sometimes this takes time, so I compromise during the first draft. The rewrite will be when I might consult my thesaurus, and will really hone my craft and rethink words and sentences with care. Because if I get hung-up on doing this during the first-draft I can lose my mojo and come to a halt. And I find it’s such a joy and so satisfying during the rewrite to really take my time and polish or restructure what’s already on the page.

The dialogue needs working on. It might not sound natural. Or may not sound unique to each character speaking it. Perhaps it contains superfluous words.  I find I am always having to remove Yes and No’s. Certain dialogue tags may not be necessary (he said, she called, etc). And this time around I had to remove many nods and smiles that accompanied my characters’ speech.

And other aspects of editing, editing, editing such as tightening sentences and checking continuity, the timeline and tense. Book 11 was written in the first person present, this Book 12 in the first person past. On reading through I found that I’d slipped into the present many times and had to change that.

Also double-check your facts. If you include anything written in a foreign language, is it correct? Have you thoroughly researched anything historical? What about locations? If, like me, you don’t do all of the necessary research before the first draft, then the rewrite process may not involve checking but finding out things for the first time.

Take a step back from your personal experience. As writers we inevitably put ourselves and aspects of our lives into our stories – emotions, themes, perhaps even characters or plot. This is ploughed into the first draft. But don’t make the mistake of thinking this means you don’t need to still do research. My latest release, Forgive Me Not was inspired by my own journey through addiction services but I still found I needed to interview case workers to make sure the detail of the novel was spot on. It’s also about Alzheimer’s and my family has suffered experience of this – but everyone’s experience is unique and I still researched how this disease might have affected other people differently. During the rewrite take a step back and consider if you have explored all aspects of your themes or if it’s one-sided by being simply based on what you’ve gone through yourself.

Some rewrites need to be more brutal – and this may be discovered after passing your manuscript on to a trusted beta reader, editor or agent. I virtually had to start Forgive Me Not again from scratch and I blogged about that here.

Whatever your reasons to rewrite accepting, in advance, that there will be some helps soften the blow when you come to that first read-through or receive initial feedback. First drafts are never oven-ready for publication and try to see this as a positive. Don’t be afraid of cutting or reconstructing. Now it’s your chance to really make that precious story sing!

Good luck!

I sent off my latest manuscript and eagerly awaited feedback. Finally it arrived. I opened the email and… Okay. I admit it. Cue a mini meltdown. The suggestion was that the book needed stripping right back to the original kernel of the idea. Chapters needed down-sizing into paragraphs, or cutting out completely. A good number of characters needed to disappear.

We’re talking a major rethink. We’re talking murdering many darlings. Or possibly ditching the book.

This was new. In the past – and I’ve had eight books published, now – I’ve had what I call “extensive” rewrites but now I realise they weren’t. At the most they’ve meant restructuring a plotline or adding emotion or developing a protagonist further. My first drafts have rarely needed fundamental changes. I plan each chapter in detail before I write. At the end of the process I’m more of a tweaker and that seems to have worked. I’m not used to completely pulling apart a finished draft.

So this has come as something of a shock.

Especially as, when I send off my first draft, I am always in what I call  “delusional X-factor contestant mode”. I make no apologies for this. It’s necessary for me if I want to write any book. I need to think it is going to change the world!

This meglomania doesn’t last forever, of course. My feet soon settle back onto the ground during the process of rewriting and editing, of publishing and getting reviews… but I need to feel super excited and confident about any project at the beginning. So when this feedback came back I wasn’t sure what to do.

I had two options. Move onto my next project (which I’m very enthusiastic about) or tackle the major rewrite. And of course, sometimes there are genuinely valid reasons for moving on. My advice, here, is listen to your heart and talk it through with reliable and knowledgeable writerly confidantes. I shelved several projects before getting published because I could not re-ignite my motivation and I think, deep down, that was because I realised those stories were never going to work.

Indeed, my first reaction in this instance? With all my confidence gone and feeling despondent, I decided to start my next book and leave this one either to stay permanently under the bed or revisit at some point in the future. I decided fixing the problems would involve too much work and take too long.

However, something unexpected happened overnight. The characters began to talk to me. Ideas slowly formulated around which needed scrapping and how to improve the remaining ones. Then new plotlines twitched in my brain. I woke up feeling rather excited. Eventually, after a day or two, I realised that this book, this story still existed – I just had the  opportunity now to really make it shine, having already done a lot of the groundwork.

I mapped out all the chapters and almost enjoyed slashing some out and combining others together. As for the characters, it’s not proving to be as hard as I expected to ditch some even though, in my head, they’d become my friends.

Perhaps they’ll resurface one day in another story. And that is the essence of embracing the major rewrite – realising that what you have to lose is not a waste. Characters can be used again and all of that prose you wrote is practice – continually you are improving your craft.

I’ve now regained some confidence and cringe when I think about the initial version. I’m grateful for the knowledge I now have of where and why I went wrong. This should help with my next draft and future projects.

So here’s my own advice for embracing a major rewrite -and if you’ve any tips then please do share them!

Sure, throw a little pity party and lick your wounds when vigorous feedback comes back. Eat chocolate. Take a long bath. Grieve for the story you believe you have lost. But don’t let this stage last too long.

Sleep on it. Even take a break for a few days. Try to stand back. Put your ego to one side when asking yourself if the editorial suggestions are valid.

Don’t see it as having to start over again. See it as simply continuing with, and fully fleshing out, a plot and characters you have already well developed. Refuse to see slashed characters and chapters as wasted.

Realise that if someone takes the time to give you detailed feedback, be that a potential agent, signed agent, editor or critque partner, they believe in your writing. 

As a resident Mancunian, I’d say  make your mantra “You don’t get owt for nowt”. Yes, writing can be bloody hard work.

Remind yourself that a first draft is called that for a reason. It isn’t the last.

Compare starting another story from scratch, to *starting* one where you’ve already worked extensively on the nuts and bolts. No contest!

Good luck!

I don’t believe people are born evil. They are what they are due to what has happened to them along the journey of life, the starting point of which is being born as a bundle of innocence. Getting to know the backstory about people fascinates me – and if you want to fascinate your readers then make sure your characters are not perfect people who would never exist in the real world. 

Take books’ heroes, for example.  Mr Darcy out of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. We all love him, don’t we, despite his stand-offish, arrogant ways? Because there is a sense of hidden vulnerability. That, combined with his imperious manner, makes for a killer combination because it makes us curious about our hero; makes us think that the haughtiness is perhaps all a front. This is much more appealing then if Mr Darcy had still been handsome, yes, but cheerful and charming to boot. Where’s the challenge?

You see, in my opinion, women and men  – and smitten readers – want a challenge when getting to know their love-interest. This doesn’t mean the latter has to be an out and out scoundrel. They just need a few interesting layers. Take good-looking Dave out of my fun novella How to get Hitched in Ten Days (which is FREE at the moment). He is heart-broken at having blown a marriage proposal to girlfriend, Jazz, and has to enrol the help of her best friend Mikey, to win her back. But his attitude to gay Mikey borders on homophobic and makes us question our initial impression that Dave is a decent, lovable guy. It takes the course of the story to find out what is at the root of his supposed prejudice.

And in my new summer novel, out this week, Breakfast under a Cornish Sun, we get to meet unapproachable, grumpy Tremain. The lead character, Kate, sees glimpses of a sensitive guy in him, now and again, and this means – to her annoyance! – she can’t easily write him off as a person not worth knowing. The same with Lucas, the other man (and a Poldark lookalike!) she becomes friends with on her trip to Cornwall. Yes,  he is gorgeous and swarthy and has the darkest, sexiest eyes – but would that alone really be enough to grab the attention of a woman looking for something meaningful?

There are all kinds of flaws in people – like in diamonds that can be cloudy, fractured or chipped – but this makes each one of them special and unique. Absolute clarity can be boring – there is no journey; nothing to discover than what is on the surface. And where is the empathy? If characters have imperfections they are more relatable and that makes us, as readers, more likely to care for them and read to the end. So if you want to keep your reader turning the pages, create an enigmatic hero or heroine with emotional and physical flaws, just like the scar on gorgeous Poldark’s face.