Structural Edits for the Faint-Hearted by Juliet Greenwood

When I first started writing, it was simple. Write book. Go back over it, fiddling and twiddling, and perfecting those beautifully-crafted sentences. Check spelling. Send the finished masterpiece out into a breathlessly waiting world.

It wasn’t until I began to work with an editor that I realised why the world hadn’t been breathlessly waiting. Basically (and to be brutally honest) I hadn’t even started to write the book. I’d got a first draft, and it didn’t matter how much I fiddled at the edges, it was never going to make it past the first draft, before sailing into oblivion and my bottom drawer for all eternity.

I should have known. After all, I’d been successfully writing short stories for years, bashing them around and tearing them apart until they worked. The trouble with a book is that it’s so big, so unwieldy, and takes so long, and so much emotional energy, to write, that the thought of tearing it up and starting again is beyond depressing – especially if, like most of us, you are also trying to do the day job, run a home and family. Oh, and a life.

But, in the end, a long, cold hard look that finished masterpiece (ahem) is the only way to go. That was what I learnt with my first book for Honno Press, Eden’s Garden, and it’s a process that I’ve been learning ever since. The hardest thing is to step back from this world you have been passionately living in for months, even years, and put on the cold, hard, practical, head. But your reader will read the same thing in days, or even non-stop over hours, and they don’t have that world living in their own heads and their hearts, so you have to capture them and persuade them, and transfer that magic inside them. Ballet looks effortless, too.

That is what structural edits are about. It’s taking your book out of your head to hold it in your hands and look at it dispassionately to see what is working and what is not. It’s when you use all the skills you’ve learnt from reading books and knowing what makes you keep on reading or throwing it against the wall. Are there too many characters? Is the heroine a wimp, who throws a strop at the slightest excuse, or a doormat to all and sundry? Are there enough holes in the plot to swallow the Titanic? Everything is thrown into the air, and anything can be thrown out (however beautifully crafted, however long it has taken to write) to make the book as gripping and emotionally engaging as you want it to be – in other words, the story that lives in your head. None of this is destructive. It can feel brutal, but it’s the paring down of a book into the best it can be. It’s the painter going through version after version of the same subject, the dancer practising until their feet bleed.

Above all, you need to listen to your gut. When I sent in the first version of Eden’s Garden, I knew something wasn’t working. Deep inside I knew the Victorian element of the story needed to be far more vivid by being told in the voice of the Victorian heroine. I felt defeated by starting again, rewriting a whole new element of the book, and unceremoniously chucking out hours of work. And, to be honest, I thought I didn’t have the skill and was afraid of making a fool of myself. It was an editor who taught me that yes, it was a vital part of making the book work – and yes, I was capable of writing it. The story didn’t change, but that simple structural change made the book come alive. It was definitely worth it, and I learnt so much about writing, and the kind of writer I want to be, in the process.

I still made mistakes in my latest book, but not nearly as many, and most I spotted along the way. Writing is, after all, a process of constantly learning, developing and improving. And, at the end of writing The White Camellia, understanding how much I had learnt and developed as a writer was the greatest buzz of all.

Structural edits? Feel the fear and do it anyway. You’ve nothing to lose and everything to gain. Bring ’em on!

Juliet Greenwood is published by Honno Press. Her books are set in Cornwall, London and Wales in Victorian and Edwardian times, and follow the lives of strong, independently-minded women struggling to find freedom and self-fulfillment. Her novels have reached #4 and #5 in the UK Amazon Kindle store, while Eden’s Garden was a finalist for ‘The People’s Book Prize’. We That are Left was completed with a Literature Wales Writers’ Bursary.

Juliet’s great grandmother worked as a nail maker in Lye Waste, near Birmingham in the Black Country, hammering nails while rocking the cradle with her foot. Juliet’s grandmother worked her way up to become a cook in a big country house. Their stories have left Juliet with a passion for history, and in particular for the experiences of women, so often overlooked or forgotten. Juliet lives in a traditional cottage in Snowdonia, in the UK, and loves gardening and walking. 

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Readers and Passion (what I learnt from Tenby Book Fair) by Juliet Greenwood

This year I finally made it to the Tenby Book Fair, organised by fellow Honno author, Judith Barrow. As it was a first, I wasn’t quite sure what to expect, but it turned out to be a completely inspiring weekend in many ways, and one that will stay with me for a long time.

Tenby itself was colourful and relaxed, with long beaches and dramatic coastline, while from the window of my B&B I looked right out over Caldey Island. It was such a whirl of a weekend, it was impossible to go and explore very much, apart from wandering through the narrow streets within the medieval walls of the town, so one lesson was to make sure I go back to find out more and do plenty of exploring. I’m planning already!

Evening in Tenby
Overlooking Caldey Island

The Book Fair itself, on the first day of the Tenby Arts Festival, was busy from start to finish. There were around fifteen authors, so it was a delight to catch up with old friends and meet many new. In many ways it felt like an extension of the Novelistas, a chance to exchange ideas and experiences, and to support each other. Authors are wonderfully supportive of each other, and the buzz in the room was energising and inspiring.

With fellow Honno authors:
Hilary Shepherd, Judith Barrow, Thorne Moore (right)
and my wonderful editor, Janet Thomas (centre)

At the same time there was a chance to talk face-to-face with readers, which I also loved. Sometimes, beavering away for months on end on a book and a subject that fills you with passion, you have to ask yourself is this just me? Am I fooling myself? Is this simply a self-indulgence? Is anyone ever going to read this dratted tome that has taken over a year of my life? Especially when bombarded with advice on what the agents and major publishers are looking for, and what sells. So it was a great adrenalin rush, and I wanted to cheer several times that day, as my chats about Eden’s Garden and We That are Left flowed naturally into the suffragists and the suffragettes, and the long struggle for women to have a legal existence, a right to control their own lives, earn money and follow a profession. The subject which happens to be the background to my next novel with Honno Press, and which is out next year.

Talking to the women and men who passed my stall made me fall back in love with the new book all over again. Bashing away at a novel takes so long, it’s easy to lose sight of why you thought it was a good idea in the first place. Talking to readers reminded me of the initial spark for the story, and that I was so cross the long history of the suffrage movement, and the women who fought peacefully for decades to improve the lives of women and children, has (like so much of women’s history) been pushed aside and forgotten, and overshadowed by the final, brief, violence of the suffragettes. Talking to readers helped me regain my energy, and my confidence that yes, it is a subject women find fascinating, and still resonates today.

My stall, set up and ready!

I’m glad I made it to the Tenby Book Fair this year. I discovered a new part of the country, and it fired me up to keep on getting out from behind my desk and meet more readers. So thank you, wonderful readers, for reminding me of the reasons to write from the heart, rather than what I think someone somewhere just might be looking for – and probably isn’t anymore anyhow.

Talking to readers and fellow writers helped restore my confidence in myself, and where I am going. And I’m already looking forward to next year in Tenby – this time proudly holding a new brand new book, hot off the press, in my hands, all ready for plenty more passionate conversations!

Tenby in the morning

Finding Your Point of View by Juliet Greenwood

Now that I am well into my next book, I’m facing the same dilemma as in all my previous stories. I have all these characters (some of whom have appeared out of nowhere, quite of their own accord, if you please) clamouring to be heard. Which point of view should I follow? And when? It’s a tricky one, an aspect that can change the entire flavour of the book, if not dictate what kind of book it is going to be.

In ‘We That are Left’ the choice was simple. I knew from the start that I wanted this story to be the First World War seen through the eyes of one woman, and therefore it was always going to be Elin’s voice telling the story. But even that had its doubts at times. There was a brief wavering at one point at whether there should be Mouse’s voice, in letters or in a point of view, contrasting the civilians’ experience at home with that of those working amongst the battlefields. My instinct was almost immediately that it would be a mistake. The horrors of the trenches are so overwhelming I felt certain they would overtake the less dramatic griefs and horrors of the civilians. Besides, seeing through one individual’s eyes doesn’t necessarily mean avoiding or shutting out the horrors and injustices, even if they are beyond the understanding of the protagonist. Just think of ‘To Kill a Mockingbird’.

In my previous book for Honno, ‘Eden’s Garden’ I had two points of view: two women living a hundred years apart. That had its own complexities – who should speak when, how much should they reveal? How much would the reader guess before I wanted them to? And as for keeping the balance between the two… But although the final drafts drove me mad at times, I know it was the right decision, because in my original draft the point of view was that of Carys, the contemporary heroine, as she unravelled a mystery. I was constantly struggling with something being not quite right, and I can still remember vividly the thunderbolt when Ann, the voice from the past, began to speak. That was when I could finally feel the story coming alive and just knew I had to go with it.

And so what of my current dilemma? Well, instead of beating my head against a brick wall, and trying to round up my characters into their allotted places, I have decided to let them get on with it for now. This time I have gained enough experience to know that I can always prune out the bits I don’t want. After all, they’ll all still have their point of view, even if it’s not expressed, so it will never be a waste, even if some of them end up in another book at the end of it all.

Meanwhile, we’ll wrestle it out together, experimenting, seeing what works, going off on a tangent every now and again. This is the bit no one will ever see, so it doesn’t matter if a character changes age or hair colour – or even gender, come to that. It’s having them all there, with all their potential, that counts. It’s once the story is assembled that I can stand back, look at them long and hard and gently, but firmly, put them in their place. With a large helping of ruthless pruning, of course.

Now where did I put my shears …

My Unexpected Lessons from a Literature Wales Writers Bursary by Juliet Greenwood

This time last year I was a few weeks into my three-month Writers’ Bursary from Literature Wales. It was the first time I’d even been given the chance to be a full-time writer, and I was still pinching myself with glee. I still am.

It wasn’t the first time I’d tried for a bursary. In fact, all in all, I’d been trying for over ten years. I’d been short-listed a few times, but I’d always been left – well, let’s be honest – intensely jealous of the fortunate few who were successful, and feeling more than a little frustrated. If only…

But, when I came to it, I’m glad it took that long. All those years were a long, hard apprenticeship in what it really took to be a writer. I’d had the endless rejections and critiques over those years. Each time plunged into the deep, dark night of the soul, wondering if I was just fooling myself after all, followed by picking myself up again, dusting myself off, squaring my shoulders and starting all over again with new determination.

Also during those years, my alter ego, ‘Heather Pardoe’, had written stories for magazines and novellas, learning to work to a brief while still retaining her individual voice and not to be precious about it all. In fact, to become a professional. So that when I finally had the call from Honno Press to say that they liked the novel I’d submitted to them, but didn’t think it was quite ready for publication, I was prepared to jump at the offered chance to work with one of their editors. All that experience told me that, even though there were no guarantees that the then-named ‘Blodeuwedd’s Garden’ would ever be published, I was being offered a rare and precious chance that would take me nearer to my dream.

That exhilarating, eye wateringly painful, breathtaking rollercoaster of a ride, working with my wonderful editor, Janet Thomas, when I was stretched and supported and pushed to dig deeper and go further than I could ever have believed possible, led to the book that became ‘Eden’s Garden’, and finally made me a writer.

That year ‘Eden’s Garden’ was published, I was so busy coming to terms with another new world, that of publicity, Amazon algorithms and social networking, that I flung in my application to Literature Wales at the last minute. So when I had the phone call several months later, I assumed I’d missed out something in my application. I was tired. I was frazzled. I’d just driven for hours along winding Snowdonian roads stuck behind the obligatory tractor, two caravans having a nervous breakdown and a bus. I scowled at the answer phone and almost left it until Monday morning. But then I decided I’d better be grown up about this and deal with it, and grabbed a notepad.

It never crossed my mind as I made that phone call, that this would be the life changing one. Since I couldn’t tell anyone (apart from my day job, who are thankfully amazingly tolerant and supportive, as I hadn’t even bothered to say this time that I’d applied, since there didn’t seem any point) I spent weeks feeling I was about to burst.

After all this, I was almost afraid, when the three months started, that it would be a disappointment. It wasn’t. I loved every minute of my Bursary. The sheer privilege of being paid to write and not having to think about anything else, meant that I got up every morning raring to go. After years of fighting to find a few hours here and there, I went for it.

It was about now, a few weeks in, that I realised the other benefit. I could actually stop for the evening. Switch off (as much as a writer ever can) and come back refreshed. Catch up with my reading. I even took a few days off to paint the house, something I’d resent in normal times for taking me away from precious writing time, but now was therapeutic, empowering and fun. It was the space to think and to plan that was as much a benefit as the time to write.

Perhaps most of all – and something that doesn’t end with the three months – is the validation of being entrusted with a bursary. A few years ago the responsibility would have floored me. I’d have panicked. I’d have run round like a headless chicken quite sure I could never live up to the weight of expectation and, quite probably, afraid to start.

Ironically, it was those long years of rejection and not being awarded a bursary that meant that when it came, it came at the right time. So thank you to Literature Wales, for entrusting me with the time to finish ‘We That Are Left’ – and allowing me to slip into my writer’s skin and know from the bottom of my heart that this is what I was born for. It’s a lesson I’ll carry with me for the rest of my life.