Land, Sea, Sand and Sky

“We make a living by what we get, but we make a life by what we give”

–Sir Winston Churchill

This morning in my dream I saw writer Junot Diaz (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Junot_D%C3%ADaz). I was in my apartment in New York trying on a new wool coat with satin lining that had been given to me as a gift, like a dervish dancer I twirled from delight, he then walked into my kitchen.

Mr. Diaz is a creative writing professor at Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT). The irony is that I don't read Mr. Diaz's books but I am familiar with his short stories through the New Yorker.

As a native of the Dominican Republic, his roots bring to mind my time in New York. I met Maria, originally from the Dominican Republic. She had fled an abusive husband and was revising her life. As a warm and congenial middle-aged woman she called me “Leendah” in a sing-song. She asked me to tutor her for a citizenship exam. Honored that she acknowledged me, it brightened my time in the cold concrete city. We covered English, social studies and American history. Since I was doing this without remuneration, it brought a smile back to my face. She wasn't the best of students, but we trudged on; most of the time she made me laugh, it was like teaching my mother also a native Spanish speaker, all over again. She would cackle at her mistakes just the way my mother does, so much in fact that it made my stomach ache from laughter. I went with her to take the exam the first time and she failed, but I wouldn't allow her to give up. The second time I didn't go with her due to work commitments, but she passed and we celebrated the victory.

Now back to the dream. Symbolically the kitchen can link to new appetites and may be linked to new plans and ideas. Also a new coat is a good omen. When I awoke it got me thinking about an exciting break from my routine.

As a creative writing teacher, normally I start the semester with a discussion of opening paragraphs, which seems a sensible place. And I don't get into revisions, until week 8. The last class is always about publishing and I know people want me to finish nattering on about revision so we can get to the good stuff. So I’m usually rushing through revision myself.

Revision in writing just as in life can be embraced. Specifically I want to move past the idea of revision as being “fixing errors.” I want a more holistic approach to revision. I want students to view it not as a necessary evil but as an opportunity to explore their stories and bring out deeper meanings that may have been dormant in early drafts.  Of course, the only problem is that it’s hard to teach. I can tell you what a good opening paragraph looks like, but a good revision is much harder to quantify.
So here are a few tips:

1. Have a title that works. Almost always, if the title’s good, the story’s good. The reason is that an author with a title knows what the story’s about.

2. Retype the story. From the beginning. Don’t try to squeeze every little correction into the draft. Take a bold approach and be open to start again from scratch.

3. Cut out a quarter of the words. You don’t need them. Trust me.

After you've done all that, have a good snooze, maybe we'll see each other in dreamland.