ON REWRITING

‘I’m not a very good writer, but I’m an excellent rewriter.’ ~ James Michener

REWRITING makes the difference between good writing and poor writing. James Michener and other literary greats have left us with invaluable reminders about the vital importance of this process. Whenever I feel dissatisfied with my writing style, or find myself unable to finish a story or an article, their wisdom reaches me like a breath of fresh air in a humid room.

Now, every time I open a document, I edit a little here and there, making mental notes of the elements I want to change. If I find that progress has stalled entirely, I rewrite—and, when necessary, overhaul almost everything in the draft. As one author beautifully put it: it is perfectly okay to write garbage, as long as you edit brilliantly.

Living in an era of accessible computers and word processing software is a massive advantage; these tools have immensely simplified my rewriting tasks. I can hardly imagine how painstakingly Michener must have labored at his typewriter, writing and rewriting long notes to complete his manuscripts before finally submitting them to his publisher. Michener admitted that he worked very slowly, requiring constant revision to craft his best-selling historical fiction novel, Hawaii. He had to type roughly three million words, only to trim the final version down to about half a million before embarking on yet another round of drafting.

Even the finest writers, as I have learned, rarely express themselves perfectly on paper in their first drafts. Ernest Hemingway reportedly rewrote the ending of his famous masterpiece, A Farewell to Arms, thirty-nine times before he was satisfied. Other writers refuse to submit any story or verse for publication unless it represents the absolute peak of their creative act. Vladimir Nabokov went so far as to compare exhibiting rough drafts for public reading to passing around samples of sputum, viewing it as an act of mediocrity. Furthermore, Michael Crichton famously noted that books aren't written; they are rewritten.

Both legendary authors and our own writing instructors have always been emphatic about the importance of rewriting. They explain that the true magic happens at this stage. Readers only see and savor the beauty of the final product, completely unaware of the writer's underlying pain and frustration.

Translating your thoughts and emotions into words is a difficult task in itself, but capturing a reader's heart is far more challenging. I am still learning the craft. I admit that rewriting did not initially feel like an easy option; it felt like doing the work all over again, demanding extra time and effort for a single piece. But I realized that if I truly love writing, I must endure the endless paperwork.

I have learned so much from Michener and other masters of revision. Most of my short stories and features published in Bannawag magazine are the products of countless rewrites and edits. I never send a manuscript to my editor until I am fully satisfied with the final version. Having faced my share of rejections during my early attempts, I learned to grow from my mistakes. Careful rewriting cleans a manuscript, polishes its rough edges, and ultimately shapes it into a draft worthy of an editor's attention.

For instance, my first full-length novel, which is currently being serialized in Bannawag, took me twelve years to finish. Over those years, I had many competing priorities, including family hardships and postgraduate studies. However, a significant percentage of that delay was due to the sheer volume of rewrites I poured into the draft. I had written about fifteen chapters when I suddenly hit a wall, unsure of how to wrap up the narrative. Throwing the manuscript away out of frustration felt like an attractive option at the time. Fortunately, better judgment prevailed. I decided to rewrite from the very beginning. I overhauled my original outline, fixed the flaws in my plot, refined my presentation to align with a newly contrived resolution, and eliminated structural inconsistencies. It took me another year or so just to polish the entire 36-part novel.

As Michener advised, I have to write the first draft of my story just to see how it turns out. Yet, sometimes the urge to rewrite hits me the moment I finish a single sentence, paragraph, or page. When I am still unsatisfied with the outcome, I let the draft germinate for a while. Then, I return to it with a fresh pair of eyes and a renewed attitude, allowing me to spot the flaws I missed before.

Sometimes, I find someone to read or listen to my work with a critical but constructive eye. In the past, this was usually my father, my late wife, a close friend, or one of my siblings. This collaborative approach worked wonders when I was drafting a humorous story intended for an Ilocano literary contest. I asked one of my sisters to read it. She immediately pointed out its weak spots, which I promptly revised. That very story went on to win first prize in the annual competition.

I am always open to suggestions from editors, and I take their criticisms to heart. I never mind rewriting a manuscript if my editor requests it. Juan S.P. Hidalgo Jr., the former editor of Bannawag, once told me that no manuscript is destined for the trash. He compared a raw manuscript to an ugly lump of driftwood found on a riverbank, which can be carved into a work of art through careful rewriting. Every manuscript can be salvaged or recycled, provided the author welcomes revision and is willing to expunge text that no longer serves the story's purpose.

Even after countless rewrites, and despite the satisfying feeling that persistence has yielded a flawless piece, I have come to accept that an editor may still spot errors. Nobody is perfect—and perhaps that is exactly why God created editors and first readers in the first place. If I must rewrite, I will always do so willingly, because I know that rewriting, fundamentally, is what makes writing good.