In writing, you must kill all your darlings.

— William Faulkner

Now comes the fun part. I'm not pumping you with sunshine. I'm being 100 percent sincere. Revising is the actual fun part of writing, yet it is the step most often neglected by students. It comes from the sense of relief at having finally finished a paper that can be turned in. I'm sure you've experienced that moment at two in the morning when you hit the print button and then hold a warm essay in your hands, thinking, "Holy cow. I can't believe I finished it!" It doesn't matter that it's the worst essay in the entire world. It's YOUR essay. You wrote it.

You should be proud. Really, you should. BUT YOU’RE NOT DONE YET! You've merely drafted your paper—now it's time to let it breathe. Give it a few days to set. Turn your mind to other pursuits, such as watching an entire season of Breaking Bad, and then come back to the essay. Hopefully, you'll get some feedback from classmates, your professor, the writing center, or your dad, but even if you find yourself in a situation where no one can read and comment on your draft, that's okay. Many writers choose not to share their drafts with anyone, finding the writing process to be extremely private. I can't say that I blame them, except I've found that I just can't distance myself from the draft the way they can. I'm like Ralphy in A Christmas Story when he writes his paper on why he wants a Red Rider BB gun for Christmas. After reading it out loud, he says, "Wow. That's great."

If, like me, you find yourself reading your crappy first draft and thinking, "Wow. That's great," then you need to step out of your comfort zone and let someone else read it. In a composition course, like the one you're undoubtedly enrolled in right now (else why would you be reading this book), your instructor will likely force you out of that comfort zone and set up workshops, peer-editing exchanges, and personal conferences. The professor may even go so far as to require you to visit a tutor at the writing center.

William Faulkner, in talking about the process of revising, said, "In writing, you must kill all your darlings." He wasn’t the first to say it, but he usually gets the credit.

Sounds dramatic, right? Well, it is. It can be extremely hard to delete sentences or even whole paragraphs that you spent a lot of time and mental energy writing. And the more you write, the more darlings you'll have to slaughter: entire pages and chapters! I've never cried over the revision process, but I've known people who had to take solace in several glasses of wine to get over the grief of highlighting chunks of their draft and then having to hit the delete button.

But really, that's the only hard part. The rest of the revision process is more akin to working on a puzzle. You move things around, figure out what goes together and what doesn't. Images start to emerge. Things start to make sense.

Revising is when you'll worry about the big things, which we call higher-order concerns, such as overall organization, development of ideas and arguments, use of sources, details and descriptions, claims, evidence, rhetorical modes, audience awareness, sense of purpose, voice, and so on. It isn't time yet to get nit-picky with words and grammar—that comes next, in the editing stage.

Even though I'm usually proud of my crappy rough drafts, I look forward to that moment in the revision process where I think, "So that's what my paper is about!" Or, "Wow. Now it really is great."

I have three stories involving a diamond, a Ford Mustang, and a short story that illustrate the power of revision.

First, the diamond.

For a thousand years, many kings and emperors and chiefs in various parts of modern-day India, Pakistan, and Afghanistan held temporary custody of a giant diamond: the Koh-i-noor. It was a whopping 191 carats and undoubtedly the largest in the world. In the 19^th century, as a new empire settled into the region, the newest ruler—Queen Victoria—took possession of the diamond.

Despite its massive size, it wasn’t much to look at. It was kind of lopsided. The cuts weren’t symmetrical. And it didn’t really sparkle. Still, the Brits were happy to export it to England.

Victoria’s husband, Prince Albert, was bored, so he took the reigns on putting together the Great Exhibition of 1851 in Hyde Park, which included the building of the magnificent Crystal Palace where nations could set up booths and displays of their latest inventions and marvels. At the very center would be the Koh-i-noor. Prince Albert left a wide berth around it so that thousands at a time could gaze at the splendor of the diamond. To his chagrin, when the event began, few people stopped or took the time to offer more than a passing glance at the diamond. They were more interested in the two American displays nearby—one for a harvester, and one for Samuel Colt’s new pistol.

The few people who did stop to see the diamond weren’t impressed, and a few doubted it was real. It didn’t even look like a diamond.

After the Great Exhibition—which was a huge success despite the diamond’s flop—Prince Albert decided it was time to let the world see the diamond for it was. He hired a jeweler to re-cut it. He had hoped that it would only take a few carats off, but when the jeweler was done, it had dropped to 105.6 carats, losing nearly 45 percent of its mass!

But Prince Albert was thrilled.

It was still massive, and it looked exactly like a giant diamond should: symmetrical, brilliant, sparkly, and breathtaking.

The diamond’s ownership is still contested. Many governments in India and the surrounding regions, including the Taliban in Afghanistan, claim ownership and want it back. But, for now, it lives as the center jewel of the crown used in British coronations.

And now, the Ford Mustang.

This story isn’t nearly as interesting, but I had a friend name Doug who drove a 1982 Ford Mustang convertible with a four-cylinder engine. It looked like crap. It sounded like crap. And the roof wouldn’t close. But he would argue all day with anyone who said otherwise. We were just ignorant. We didn’t understand how awesome his car was. “Dude,” I said to him. “If you have to convince people that your car is awesome, then it isn’t awesome.”

He finally conceded and said it could use some work, but he didn't have any money to fix anything.

And finally, the short story.

I was in a creative-writing workshop. There were only a few of us. We took turns reading each-other’s stories and then offering advice. My story was a mess, so I eagerly wrote down everyone’s feedback. But then it was the turn of a girl who I’ll call Wendy. We offered up our advice, and she told us we were all wrong. Her story was perfect the way it was and we just didn't "get" it. She then explained the plot, the characters’ motivations, and the significance of the dying cow at the end. “Your story has to stand on its own,” our professor finally said. “You can’t stand over the shoulder of everyone who reads it to explain it to them.” But Wendy wouldn’t budge. If the world was too stupid to understand her story, that was their problem.

What do these three stories have in common? All three things—the diamond, the car, and the short story—desperately needed to be revised before anyone could behold their awesomeness. Each was fraught with distracting problems. Prince Albert eventually realized this and revised the diamond so that it could stand on its own. Even though it was painful to shave off more than 85 carats, it was what was needed to make the diamond shine. After that, he never needed to convince anyone again that the diamond was magnificent. The same goes for your papers. After you’ve just spent days writing a draft, you might be reluctant to eliminate a single word, but you have to. It’s the only way to make it great.

My friend, Doug, reluctantly recognized that his car was awesome decades ago, but he didn’t have the funds or the skills to revise it and bring it back to its 80s glory. You might be in a similar situation where you know your essay isn’t great, but you just don’t have the time, energy, or skills to do anything about it. That’s what your teacher is for. Or the writing center. Don’t settle for a crappy Mustang. Do something about it.

And Wendy refused to see that the problem wasn’t with her readers, but with the story. She was blinded by pride. Her story became too precious to her and any advice was an assault. Don’t ever let your draft become precious. It's not. It’s a work in progress. You can take advice with a grain of salt, but if someone is willing to take the time to read your essay and give you feedback, take advantage of it. Stop taking it personally.

When it comes to revising your papers, don't be a Doug or a Wendy. Be a Prince Albert.

There are several strategies to help you get to that point. Here, I'll offer a few that can be done in class, as workshops and activities, and some that you can do on your own.

Reading Your Paper Out Loud

You can do this alone in front of a mirror or with your phone’s recording app, or you can read your paper to someone you trust. If you’re lucky, your instructor will provide time in class for you to read your draft out loud to a small group.

When I read my drafts out loud, my ears catch a lot of things that my eyes miss, such as awkward transitions, repeated words or phrases, misused vocabulary, and confusing sentences. The first time you read a draft out loud, you might feel self-conscious, but once you get used to your weird-sounding voice, it can be a very productive part of the revision process.

I make my students read their work aloud to each other during class because most people don't ever get to experience "hearing" their writing. Hearing what you wrote is the best way to get a sense of the paper's rhythm and flow and feel if there is anything awkward or clunky or redundant. "Sheesh," I recently heard a student say to another student during a read-aloud workshop. "I didn’t realize how often I use the word apparently."

Another reason I have my students read their drafts aloud during the revision stage is so they avoid wasting their time focusing on smaller-order concerns, such as typos and misspellings. When you exchange drafts and read another student’s paper quietly to yourself, the temptation to edit can be overwhelming. Editing too early in the writing process can restrict the creative process. Remember, revision isn't the same as editing. Revision is all about ideas: developing them, organizing them, making them work together. Editing, on the other hand, is the last stop, when all the ideas are developed and you're ready to get nit-picky. Reading your draft aloud, whether to yourself or to a small group, forces you to focus on the bigger issues without sweating the small stuff.

The Writing Center

Most colleges and universities have a writing center. They often advertise themselves as "free," but it would be more accurate to say that you have already paid for the writing center with your tuition, so you might as well take advantage of it.

Writing centers are usually staffed by your fellow students. Often, they are juniors and seniors in a variety of disciplines who have been recommended by their instructors and who have shown an aptitude for academic writing. Occasionally, writing centers might also be staffed by graduate students and professional tutors.

Writing centers are set up to help you with any writing assignment at any stage of the writing process. It doesn't matter if it's a research paper, a proposal, a personal essay, a poem, a critical essay, a resume, a bibliography, an outline, a lab report, a cover letter, or a senior thesis, they can help you:

• interpret an assignment instruction sheet

• find and develop topics

• formulate thesis statements

• create a research plan

• incorporate sources

• organize and structure your paper

• revise your draft

• move past writer's block

One thing they can't do, however, is edit your paper for you. Most writing centers have a no-touch policy when it comes to tutors and your papers. That means that you will have your paper in front of you with a pen or pencil in hand while the writing tutor sits next to you. They will read your paper and have a conversation with you about your writing, they will offer suggestions and answer questions, but you will still have full ownership of your paper. Only you can make the changes. In other words, don't show up at the writing center a half hour before your final draft is due expecting them to edit it for you. It's not going to happen. But they'll happily talk to you about your paper.

Most writing centers allow you to schedule an appointment (usually thirty minutes to an hour), or drop in at your convenience.

Additionally, some writing centers offer online tutoring. If you're not sure what your college or university offers, do a quick Internet search or check the school's website. Chances are, you will find a thriving, full-functioning writing center that offers a variety of services and waiting to help you succeed.

On a personal note, I used to run a writing center in California, so I don't mind admitting I'm a bit biased in my zeal for them. Over the years, I have seen nothing but success. Many students walk in a bit reluctant. Lots of shyness. I've seen students look around and then bolt. But those lucky enough to walk all the way in and sit down with a tutor have never regretted it. It is informal, conversational, and non-intimidating. These are your fellow classmates, not mean old professors.

I have also overheard many conversations between writing tutors and students where they say things like, "Oh, I had that professor last year. He loves it when you use personal stories in your essay." Or, "I had that professor my Freshman year—she'll freak out if you use 'I' or 'me' in your paper."

The advice is free, invaluable, and you already paid for it. Now go get your money's worth.

The Loving/Hating Game

I didn’t invent this revision strategy. That honor goes to a chap named Peter Elbow, who practically invented the writing process in the 1960s. He called it “believing” and “doubting.” My version is a bit different than his, and I call it the “loving/hating game.”

At times, it can be hard to step back and accurately determine if what you have written is compelling or persuasive. If you don't have someone who is willing to read and offer honest, frank advice, then this can be a particularly useful writing exercise to do on your own.

Step One: Write a paragraph or a list in which you are your biggest fan. What do you like most about your draft? What is working well? How would you defend the things you've said?

Step Two: Write a paragraph or a list in which you are your biggest critic. What do you dislike most about your draft? What isn't working well? How might you critique or attack the things that are being said?

Step Three: Read over what you've written so far. Now write a paragraph or a list in which you synthesize the ideas. Based on what you've written, what might you need to change in your essay? What are the holes or inconsistencies? What's missing? What's working well that you'll keep in the final draft? In short, what is your plan of action now for revising the draft?

I don’t always critique my own writing, but when I do, I use the loving/hating game.

Reverse Outlining

Reverse outlining can work on any paper, but it is especially useful on long papers, such as research papers, when it is easy to forget what you said or where you said it. It is especially useful if you sense your paper is disorganized, but you’re not sure how to fix it.

Reverse outlining can be done in a few different ways. The simplest, lowest-tech method is to simply write in the margins of your paper. Next to each paragraph, write one phrase that summarizes what the paragraph is about.

On the next page, I have included a reverse outline of a literacy narrative written by a student. Feeling overwhelmed and not sure where to begin with revising the essay, she created this reverse outline so she could get a sense of what was in the essay and how it was organized.

Reverse Outline of Literacy Narrative

by Sue DeNimm

¶ 1: Thesis Statement: “I was taught to write more impressively through books”

¶ 2: walking into classroom and realizing we would be doing a lot of reading (narrative)

¶ 3: teacher assigning us the book without explaining why we were reading it (narrative)

¶ 4: teacher reading to us (lots of description of the teacher and room) (narrative)

¶ 5: assigned us an essay with no real structure or guidance (narrative)

¶ 6: traded papers with classmates and I realized the point of it all: writing with more detail (narrative)

¶ 7: Thanksgiving break and how excited I was to start the next book (narrative)

¶ 8: We were assigned the Raven, my favorite (narrative)

¶ 9: Why I loved re-reading the Raven so much (reflection)

¶ 10: Teacher reading the Raven to us: description of how she set the mood in the room (narrative)

¶ 11: Our reaction to her reading (narrative)

¶ 12: next day, the writing assignment she gave us (narrative)

¶ 13: how the writing assignment differed from the previous ones (reflection)

¶ 14: my attempt to complete the assignment and my satisfaction with my “big” word choices (Narrative/Reflection)

¶ 15: why I didn’t enjoy the assignment (Reflection)

¶ 16: teacher then became obsessed with Shakespeare(narrative)

¶ 17: though I enjoyed reading Shakespeare, teacher didn’t have us write about it (narrative/reflection)

¶ 18: I loved the course and Mrs. McHenry; I learned so much about writing (reflection)

Notes and Thoughts on the Outline:

• My thesis statement is too vague. Maybe mention high school or “detailed writing” instead of “impressively.”

• I don’t actually mention her name until halfway through

• I need more reflection. I have a lot of narration and descriptions, but I don’t really stop to reflect or analyze the narrative very often. Perhaps instead of including a whole reflective paragraph after four or five narrative paragraphs, I could include a couple sentences of reflection in each narrative paragraph.

• My conclusion doesn’t really do anything. I need to include more analysis or reflection.

• The Shakespeare bit seems irrelevant; If I keep it, I should talk more about how ineffective it was to teach Shakespeare without making us write. Or I should get rid of it and just focus on the Raven assignment.