How I write: sequential incremental revision
There are two common ways to craft a substantial piece of writing (like a 1200-word essay or an 8000-word book chapter).
- Draft and revise. Write the whole piece from beginning to end, revising as little as possible. Then go back and revise the whole piece. This is how writers used to write with typewriters, and it’s still popular with people for whom constant revision is a counterproductive temptation.
- Craft and assemble. Write bits and pieces. Then glue them together to form a draft, revising as needed.
No one taught me either of those techniques, and as a result, I developed my own method:
- Sequential incremental revision. Start with plan (fat outline). Start writing at the beginning. Write several paragraphs, crafting and revising as you go along. Then go back and read from the start, revising what you wrote and adding several additional paragraphs. Repeat cyclically, each time revising what you’ve written (slightly) and adding to it.
Characteristics of sequential incremental revision
I didn’t deliberately invent or refine this method, but having written perhaps 20 million words in my career, at this point it has become second nature to me. That said, I tend to be introspective about my writing process, so I think it’s worth considering what characteristics of this method make it work for me.
For the purposes of this discussion, I’ll use the term “mini-draft” to refer to the partial draft in progress that results from each cycle of revision and addition.
- Each cycle of revision and addition makes the piece better. I can see it coming together and be confident that the all-important opening is fully optimized. Emotionally, I see myself making steady progress.
- Each mini-draft hangs together. Because I’m revising the opening based on the new content I’ve added, the resulting mini-draft is cohesive. I never work on disconnected sections, because the way sections flow into one another is an essential part of the writing quality.
- Each section approaches a platonic ideal of perfection. Somewhere in my mind’s eye there is a developmental self-editor that knows what effective prose sounds like. As a result, once I’ve optimized, say, the first 500 words, I’m unlikely to revise it much. This method ensures that each section evolves into a form that my developmental self-editor is pleased with.
- I don’t endlessly revise. Adherents of the draft-and-revise method worry that once they go back to something they’ve written, they’ll tinker with it forever. I do not suffer from that fear. I know that for me the tinkering approaches an asymptotic limit, so it’s not endless.
- There is no “shitty first draft.” Many writers are attracted to Anne Lamott’s concept of a “shitty first draft,” where you just vomit out a bunch of stuff and then go back and revise the whole thing. I can’t stand shitty drafts, even as an interim step. The fat outline gives me the framework on which I can hang a first draft I’m happy with.
The result of this approach is a draft that satisfies me. That doesn’t mean it’s done. That draft might go out for review to people whose opinion I care about, after which I’d go back and revise it with new insights. And after I’ve drafted a whole set of chapters, I might go back and revise the whole thing from the start.
My method depends on planning and confidence
There are two reasons this approach works for me. First, I undertake it with a plan in mind, so I know where I’m going. And second, I have a high degree of confidence that I can write well. My developmental self-editor and my writing persona are so much in sync that I always know I can get there.
This method actually tends to confound editors. They’ve told me that my first drafts are so fluid that they have to continually remind themselves that more substantial improvements are possible.
This method almost always works, but it has failed me exactly once. I was ghostwriting for an author whose demands created a high degree of difficulty: He was British (I’m not), he insisted on manuscript characteristics completely different from every other advice book I’ve ever written, and his patience for draft reviews was limited. For once, my confidence and writing skills were not up to the task, or perhaps I was just a poor match for this particular client. So my method is certainly not infallible. But so far, this has proven to be just an anomalous exception.
I’m quite curious to hear from other writers and editors. Does your method match draft-and-revise, craft-and-assemble, sequential incremental revision, or some other method of creation. Are you happy with the way you write? Does it result in the best possible draft? Is it efficient? Is it emotionally satisfying? If it’s not ideal, what are you considering changing? And how has AI changed your process?
Josh
As usual, we’re sympatico.
After extensive planning and fat outlines, I generate a near-final draft that does exactly what my clients and I agreed it should. In all of the books I’ve ghostwritten, not a single time did a client insist upon anything more than a minor revision. If I had to guess, 90 percent of the prose winds up untouched in the book.
After being a terrible student, I learned to write as a direct response copywriter. I wrote long form in the financial newsletter niche. There we did something very similar to what you’re describing. And now in my non-fiction and ghostwriting I tend to follow the same flow. Good to know I’m not crazy after reading so much “shitty first draft” advice. That never sat well with me.
I once worked at a newspaper that had a writing coach. She had a simpler term for “sequential incremental revision.” She called people who do this “start-to-finish writers.” It’s apt: Because you revise as you go, when you get to the end, you’re finished. She observed that this work style tends to work well for people who write on shorter deadlines, when there’s no time for iterative first draft, second draft, etc. That’s why many journalists are start-to-finish writers, apparently. Your observation about the typewriter-to-computer transition is important, at least in my case. As a child in the typewriter era, I disliked writing. That only changed when I began writing in a word processing program that allowed for the start-to-finish approach. Thanks for writing this!