Putting a Mirror Finish on Your Final Polish by Martha Reed

I’ve blogged before about starting a new novel and the terror of facing (and filling) the blank page. Today I want to share the carrot at the end of the stick – the excitement of connecting the dots, tying up any loose ends, and polishing a manuscript to a glossy finish.

When I commit to writing another book and begin the drafting process, I give myself permission to take all the crazy new ideas and suggestions, throw them into the hopper, and see what sticks. At this point it’s crucial that I don’t prejudge or try to edit them yet because some of these ideas seem to be subconscious ‘placeholders’ – a necessary plot point that my subconscious doesn’t know enough about or even want to deal with at this point in the process, but something that I will return to in a future editing cycle when I have more information about the overall story. There is some fun here.

For instance, in my current work, I knew there were four people in a car. In my first draft, ‘four people in a car’ was as detailed as I got as I maniacally scribbled on. Today, as I tied up loose ends, I returned to that gappy placeholder. The fun kicked in as I paused to consider the possible options now that I knew the whole story. At this point I now know who the four people were, where they were sitting in the car, and why. I certainly didn’t know this level of plot detail when I drafted the initial placeholding scene, but evidently my creative subconscious kept bubbling away on it until those missing details popped up today when I finally needed to fill them in.

It's a great feeling when I connect the dots. It’s a kind of magic.

I also think this concern for detail might hamstring newbie authors if they feel they need to answer all the outstanding questions immediately. It takes some practice to learn to trust the process, accept the skipped bit, and simply write on. If I do start obsessively worrying about these manuscript gaps I remind myself that the same brain that painted me into this corner is the same brain that will get me out of it.

The second magical phase starts with editing. I usually go through two editing cycles. I wish I had a cut-and-dried answer on how to do this but how I go about it is different with each book. One of my favorite author friends said that writing is the toughest job you’ll ever love because the better you get at doing it the more you realize how little you really know. What I do know is that if I commit to putting in the necessary time the words (and eventually the better word choices and images) will flow.

The best electric editing excitement happens when two previously disconnected plot points click. This is when I find myself hunched over my keyboard quietly muttering: ‘Ooh, that’s good.”

I learned one final editing trick from reading Raymond Chandler’s The Big Sleep (1939). Now with my final polish, I go back to my first chapter or my first 10 pages and insert hints and threats pertaining to each character’s individual deep dark secret(s). Planting any clues this early precludes any spoilers because the story is still so new the reader doesn’t have enough data yet to engage their understanding or their imagination. These clue seeds get planted but they go right over the reader’s head.

Here's how Raymond Chandler did it:

It was about eleven o'clock in the morning, mid October, with the sun not shining and a look of hard wet rain in the clearness of the foothills. I was wearing my powder-blue suit, with dark blue shirt, tie and display handkerchief, black brogues, black wool socks with dark blue clocks on them. I was neat, clean, shaved and sober, and I didn't care who knew it. I was everything the well-dressed private detective ought to be. I was calling on four million dollars.

The main hallway of the Sternwood place was two stories high. Over the entrance doors, which would have let in a troop of Indian elephants, there was a broad stained-glass panel showing a knight in dark armor rescuing a lady who was tied to a tree and didn't have any clothes on but some very long and convenient hair. The knight had pushed the vizor of his helmet back to be sociable, and he was fiddling with the knots on the ropes that tied the lady to the tree and not getting anywhere. I stood there and thought that if I lived in the house, I would sooner or later have to climb up there and help him. He didn't seem to be really trying.

What are your final polishing habits or tricks? Inquiring minds want to know.