Tales from draft two

Like a first draft, but not.

When I started writing my second manuscript, the story that was mine to tell, I thought the words would pour out of me. Only they didn’t. The first draft was hard won.

Perhaps I was too close to the subject matter?

Found it tricky to disentangle real memories from the character arc I was building for my protagonist?

The reality was a little of both, as well as the annoying fact that I saw the story going in two entirely different directions, which both had merit. In the end, I decided to start writing it one way in the hope that the decision would either prove or disprove itself. (So far, it hasn’t. I still feel like I could still have gone with either storyline. But am hopeful I chose the right one).

So, I pushed through the first draft in 12 months, which was a minor miracle given my daughters were aged 1, 3 and 5 at the time. I ended up with roughly 65,000 words – with rough being the operative word.

The first read back was brutal, and I needed to spend a week or so on what my former Australian Writer’s Centre mentor Angela Slatter calls ‘the fainting couch.’

But once my ego had worn itself out trying to convince me I was the worst writer in history, I was ready to dive back in.

All I had to do was make it better, how hard could that be?

Well, it turns out, writing a second draft is nothing like writing a first. The first draft is all exploration and discovery. Low stakes. Organic. Going wherever the literary wind takes you. But now it was time to refine, polish and shape the raw material I had put down. Start turning sand into sandcastles.

But where to even start?

Gaping plot holes, flaky characters, dumpster fire prose?

Pacing, dialogue, blatant information dumps?

No – before I could shift my focus to the finer details – I needed to examine the overall cohesiveness of the story. Because the story was inspired by my own experience, I had initially thought to replicate my journey as it happened. But after reading the first draft, and thinking about the end readers who would (hopefully) one day pick it up, I realised my own experience of the subject matter (infertility and IVF) was not only very specific, it was very sad.

I was desperate to do justice to this important topic, as I believe IVF stories are missing from mainstream fiction, but not in a way that would make people feel worse. What I wanted to do was to make them feel seen, to create a relatable story about a marriage in the fertility trenches that they could share with their loved ones and say – this is how I feel. As I also believe a story of this nature will appeal to a broader reader base than just people going through infertility/IVF, it also needed well planned and executed secondary characters, themes and plot lines.

So, the second draft really was a meticulous and often painstaking process, requiring a level of discipline and critical thinking that the first draft had not demanded. I found myself scrutinising every decision I had made during that freestyle initial process, where I had nothing planned beyond the title and genre.

First, I went back to basics, using a whiteboard to map out the narrative arc. I drew a classic 3 Act Structure, overlaid with Freytag’s Pyramid and mapped the current story. The plot holes and blockers were obvious almost straight away, so I erased, brainstormed and redrew. Immediately, I felt this new version was an improvement. Phew, progress was being made.

Next up, I needed to delve deeper into the characters, exploring their motivations, flaws, and arcs in a more nuanced and meaningful way. I found myself asking questions I hadn't considered during the first draft, and planning adjustments and new scenes to ensure the two main protagonists were fully fleshed out, and not the paper thin versions I had crafted originally.

Partway through this process, I told my writing group about the challenges I was facing and one of them recommended I read Write Your Novel From The Middle by James Scott Bell. I’ll be honest, I haven’t read too many books on writing as they feel a bit like homework – other than Bird by Bird by Annie Lamont, which is a gorgeous read and I highly recommend to anyone who will listen. But this time, it was a case of right book, right time. (It’s also short and took less than 2 hours to read, which helped).

In essence, JSB tries to convey the significance of the midpoint in storytelling, arguing that it’s a central point around which writers should construct their narrative, as it serves as a transformative moment for characters. He suggests plotting the ‘mirror moment’ your character faces in the midpoint of the story, then their transformation at the end, and then the place they start from in the beginning.

So I did, and found the exercise hugely illuminating. Turns out, I didn’t really know my characters at all! So thanks, JSB!

With this renewed clarity on both plot and character, I was ready to dive into the second draft – a process that is essentially part rewriting, part new words and part editing. It also requires more decision-making than the first draft and a strategic eye. I examined every sentence, every paragraph, every chapter, searching for ways to extend the story, to go deeper with my protagonists and and to enhance the emotional impact.

What I did not do in this draft was a line level edit. If I came across a typo or a really clunky sentence I fixed it, but, in my mind, I always knew I would to go back through it again, making it sing at a line level. There’s no point agonising over every word when they still might get chopped.

What did I learn by the end of this process? One of the biggest challenges was letting go of certain parts of the story I had grown attached to during the first draft. As an author, it's easy to become enamoured with our own creations, but the second draft requires a level of objectivity and a willingness to make tough decisions. Aka - you have to be willing to kill your darlings. And it hurts, but you will survive.

I had to be willing to cut scenes, rework dialogue, and even completely rewrite entire chapters if I felt they weren't serving the story in the best possible way. It was challenging at times, but ultimately led to a stronger, more cohesive narrative.

In the end, the second draft was a different journey than I expected, but I found I really enjoyed it once I had switched gears. It was also a very necessary step in the process of transforming my initial vision into a polished work of fiction.

Onwards and upwards!