Structure and Craft

One draft manuscript down and one to go.

I've been tasked with giving a pair of writers feedback on their recent work, a job that reminds me of what incredibly hard work it takes to bring a book, particularly a novel or novella, to fruition.

Rare is the writer who can sit down at his writing table and produce a first draft of a work that doesn't need development and polish, a nuts and bolts work-over, which is why good writers always say that all writing is rewriting.

The author of the draft I've just finished and commented on has written and published several fine novels, and what I've seen from his latest tells me that many, many of the elements for another success are in place.

The story has a wonderful structure and uses several unique methods to advance the tale in a non-linear fashion, weaving events from U.S. history into a contemporary account of the lives of its characters.

Finding the proper structure for a novel has always seemed to me to be the most difficult aspect of writing one, which is perhaps why I've never completed one to my satisfaction. My sense of what a good novel should do for the reader is guided by its elements of craft.

I truly admire people who can get the job done and who are dedicated to the rigorous work of finishing--artists dedicated to craft in other words.

Good storytelling involves craft initially. Without it, the writer will deliver a ragtag piece that hasn't the proper form, or loses its direction before eventually losing the reader as well.

A good writer gets it down, gives the tale the structural integrity it needs to stand in a strong gale, then goes deep into its interior. There he builds the windows and the doors, firms up the arches and ceiling, scrubs it thoroughly with honesty and makes the thing organic and whole.

With a series of painterly strokes, the thing begins to gain color and a newness that absorbs the reader in moments of recognition and, at its most powerful, delivers him into another realm, a world of make-believe that is as real as actual life.

It'll be interesting to see what becomes of the tale I've just read and the one I'm about to study. I surely hope that what I've contributed in the way of feedback assists the author of the first book, and I have the same hope for the second manuscript, which I plan on delving into this week.

This kind of stuff makes this job interesting. Watching a project come together--indeed being active somewhat in it--is both a pleasure and a learning experience.


TS