Monday 26 February 2024
Like my college students, I, too, wish I could get through the revision stage of my writing process faster and easier than I am currently doing. And like them, I, too, have thought, “Do I really need to revise this or that section?” I tell myself what I tell those reluctant and unconvinced writing students, “Writing is rewriting. And revision allows us to get to what we really want to say.” And if they are still wary about revision, I say, “Right now, we’re going to read an excerpt from Anne Lamott’s nonfiction book, Bird by Bird. The chapter is called, “Shitty First Drafts.” After the skeptical laughter and the nervous scrutiny— ‘did he just say shitty? Is he trying to be funny but is failing miserably?’—they await the next part of the lesson: “First drafts are shitty because….”
Silence. I must be patient. I am waiting for a response. The quiet is uncomfortable but understandable. The question demands an uncompromising honesty about themselves as writers. They must assess their approaches to writing. They can only answer this question. I can empathize and coach, but if true learning is going to happen, they must discover the answer themselves. “Shitty first drafts are shitty because…,” I repeat, and, this time, a hesitant but curious student volunteers an answer: “they’re shitty because they’re not good.” I confirm their answer. Another student says, “they’re a mess.” Exactly. “They’re not good and they’re a mess because….” The idea still puzzles them. “Is it because we rush through the writing? Don’t use a plan… and try to write everything in one session? Don’t reflect deeply on our position on the topic? Don’t organize our thoughts? Don’t include our best thinking?” I offer them some ways on how to think about the question.
The rushing part captures my attention. When writing, sometimes our minds race quickly, and “tunnel vision” constricts our thinking. In that race, we forget things. We type words (sometimes mindlessly) to get the assignment done. We sense that it’s not our best work, but thoughts of other responsibilities distract us. Time is a serious issue; more so, due dates regulate how much time we can devote to a writing project. And when I recommend to my writing students that they must earmark time for revision in their writing process (their work calendar), the guidance seems, to some writers, like a waste of time, ironically not using it wisely.
Why should we revise our written work when frankly we might not have the time to do so? As a writing teacher, I realize that 17 weeks in a semester may not be enough time for students to revise past writing assignments, let alone before students must turn-in their present assignments. If my students learn only one lesson from me, I hope it is this: time management. For me, “time management” means to be patient. “Time management” also means planning one’s time for a written task. Even 15 minutes daily devoted to a written task can yield excellent results. A single writing session—hours of speed writing before as assignment is due—won’t result in a well-organized, eloquent paper. Patience is understanding that one needs time to write well. Patience buffers against life’s pressures. Patience is waiting for the better ideas to breech the surface of one’s consciousness. Having patience during a semester of 17 weeks is a big ask.
During my current revision of the Katyn manuscript, I don’t have a hard deadline; however, I nonetheless feel anxiety about having a due date: “When will I have time to revise? How long will it take?” My mind echoes incessantly those worries. “Spring Break? The end of the semester?” my mind troubles me further. My anxiety bedevils me, harping, “Spring Break is in three-four weeks. Are you ready to write? You should wait for the end of the semester… couple of months.” I sigh with resignation. I don’t want to wait, but I need time (also known as a clear head) to revise. Patience.
According to Merriam-Webster Dictionary, to be patient means: “bearing pains or trials calmly or without complaint.” Hahahah… By blogging this entry, I am not bearing my writerly trials without complaint. On the other hand, I guess I am. Having endured almost sixteen years drafting the Katyn manuscript, I can allocate several more weeks to the next phase of my writing process, the revision. After all, what are several more weeks? Patience. The planned revisions aren’t necessarily burdensome or tedious. Patience. I just have to wait. Wait. Be patient; the revision work for my Katyn story will be done soon enough. That time is so close. Patience.
I recall another lesson I often implement in the classroom, trying to convince my skeptical students about the virtue of revision, which, right now, I need to hear myself: “I don’t want this to happen to you on the day your assignment is due. You walk into class, holding your paper. Then you place it on my desk and walk to your seat. Immediately, your mind shocks you, wailing, ‘Oh shit! I forgot to write-in the idea that I liked a lot; the one I really wanted to have in my paper. Why didn’t I include it? Now, I ran out of time; it’s too late. He’s going to grade it. This version of the paper isn’t the one I wanted to turn in.’ I don’t want you to have that kind of shit moment happening. Settling for shitty first drafts is the worst feeling. We can avoid that moment. For that reason, we revise. For that reason, we budget time to revise. For that reason, we must be patient, and revise.”
Patience may seem like I am doing nothing; after all, I am just waiting. At the same time, I am doing something. I am allowing the writing process to take place. As I had needed time to discover, cultivate, and compose (action words) my Katyn manuscript, I also, right now, need time to reflect, reconsider, and re-envision (also action words) my writing. There is activity beneath the surface. This part of the writing process is as important—maybe even more valuable—for the final product, for the message of the manuscript as was the initial prewriting stage.
If Steve were alive, he would lecture me for using the following cliché: “Rome wasn’t built in a day.” Aesop’s fable, the Tortoise and the Hare… is that one better? No, be patient, and revise, and find your own voice.