Tiny tweaks in a story can cause a tidal wave of changes.
Maybe I’m a writing freak, but I actually love revisions. A single change can impact a novel on multiple levels, which is both cool, and terrifying.
Tweak a character’s backstory or change the rules of your world’s magic, and bam! Your entire novel starts to shift under your feet. One change leads to another, and another, and then you realize the larger ramifications of all those changes and before you know it, it’s practically a new book.
Which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but you want to make sure it’s what you want.
Some rippled-revisions are massive, while others are more nuanced.
Change your protagonist, and you know the whole book will change. But change one significant detail of that character, and you’ll end up with a series of small, but critical, changes that ripple throughout the story in ways you might know even realize until you get into it.
I’m currently revising two separate novels (I don’t recommend this by the way). One manuscript is a science fiction detective novel for adults, and the other is a middle grade fantasy. My agent had fantastic suggestions on both novels that required big changes to the books, which I agreed with wholeheartedly. I saw how those changes would improve it, and I’m all whatever makes a better story.
In my MG fantasy, the change is making the book easier to follow, cleaner, and tighter. I had a curse that didn’t need to be there, and cutting it allowed the plot to focus on the elements that made it a much more compelling story. This revision is more about cutting and tweaking the story flow than any substantial rewriting.
But the SF detective one? Yeah, those suggestions haven’t been as easy to make.
Well, actually, let me clarify—they’ve been terribly easy to make, but the ripple effect from those changes has been massive.
(Here’s more with The Difference Between a Revision, a Rewrite, and a Redraft)
In my SF story, my protagonist is a person who looks human, but isn’t, and over the course of the book, reconnects with his long-lost brother. In my original draft it was no secret he wasn’t human, though he didn’t advertise it. His brother also didn’t make an appearance until the midpoint. In fact, he didn’t even know he had a brother until then (long story).
My agent loved the book, but she suggested focusing on the parts of the story she felt were the most compelling. Two of those suggestions were:
Pretty much every single scene in the book needed tweaks, from minor adjustments for this new reality, to major “cut this scene and write a new one” rewriting. But I knew without a doubt this new direction would tie the book together and make it a way better story.
(Here’s more with How to Edit a Novel Without Feeling Overwhelmed)
At first, I thought, “Okay, so I’ll change the opening and set up the brother thing, and once I get to X point, it won’t need many edits, because it’ll all be established.”
And then I got to X point and saw the ripple effect. How my protagonist viewed the suspects changed. What he thought was really going on changed. Who he now confided in changed. The ripples kept going and going…
Think about it:
Change a character’s age from twenty to forty? Suddenly their relationships, dialogue, and world views all shift. They’re not trying to find their feet and learn how to live on their own, they’re looking at the second half of their life and wondering if this is all there is.
Remove a subplot that added stakes? Now the pacing, tension, and character arcs probably need rebalancing. Some characters might not even exist anymore, or have diminished roles.
Alter the ending? You’ll probably need to redo the groundwork for all your foreshadowing, stakes, and emotional payoffs.
Reveal a secret at the start instead of the end? Now everything that used to be a mystery no longer is, and you have to find new ways to create that all-important GMC.
(Here’s more with Oh, That's Subtle: The Little Things Holding Your Novel Back)
Even the most plot-driven story unfolds in multiple directions, and those directions are all interconnected. Change a character’s motivation in chapter three, and they might not make the same choice in chapter nine. Give a character a secret they now have to hide, and they’ll act differently in an effort to keep that secret.
You’re not revising one element in isolation, but the entire story. Every part supports or reacts to the other parts.
“Can I cut this and will it matter?” is a great tool to test aspects of your story to make sure they’re serving that story, and this has been abundantly clear in my revision. I’ve had to reevaluate every scene and how it drives the plot, character arcs, and story. If it didn’t serve those, it had to go. Which made it much easier for me to hack away all the extra gunk bogging the book down.
I’m currently revising two separate novels (I don’t recommend this by the way). One manuscript is a science fiction detective novel for adults, and the other is a middle grade fantasy. My agent had fantastic suggestions on both novels that required big changes to the books, which I agreed with wholeheartedly. I saw how those changes would improve it, and I’m all whatever makes a better story.
In my MG fantasy, the change is making the book easier to follow, cleaner, and tighter. I had a curse that didn’t need to be there, and cutting it allowed the plot to focus on the elements that made it a much more compelling story. This revision is more about cutting and tweaking the story flow than any substantial rewriting.
But the SF detective one? Yeah, those suggestions haven’t been as easy to make.
Well, actually, let me clarify—they’ve been terribly easy to make, but the ripple effect from those changes has been massive.
(Here’s more with The Difference Between a Revision, a Rewrite, and a Redraft)
It seemed like such a simple suggestion…
In my SF story, my protagonist is a person who looks human, but isn’t, and over the course of the book, reconnects with his long-lost brother. In my original draft it was no secret he wasn’t human, though he didn’t advertise it. His brother also didn’t make an appearance until the midpoint. In fact, he didn’t even know he had a brother until then (long story).
My agent loved the book, but she suggested focusing on the parts of the story she felt were the most compelling. Two of those suggestions were:
1. What if no one knows he’s human?I loved these suggestions and immediately saw the possibilities, but who-boy did they change how the story unfolded. My protagonist’s motives shifted, his relationships changed, and the stakes spiked high. How he interacted with the story world was completely different.
2. Can you get the “looking for my brother” idea in the first ten pages?
Pretty much every single scene in the book needed tweaks, from minor adjustments for this new reality, to major “cut this scene and write a new one” rewriting. But I knew without a doubt this new direction would tie the book together and make it a way better story.
(Here’s more with How to Edit a Novel Without Feeling Overwhelmed)
One change can ripple through the entire book.
At first, I thought, “Okay, so I’ll change the opening and set up the brother thing, and once I get to X point, it won’t need many edits, because it’ll all be established.”
And then I got to X point and saw the ripple effect. How my protagonist viewed the suspects changed. What he thought was really going on changed. Who he now confided in changed. The ripples kept going and going…
Think about it:
Change a character’s age from twenty to forty? Suddenly their relationships, dialogue, and world views all shift. They’re not trying to find their feet and learn how to live on their own, they’re looking at the second half of their life and wondering if this is all there is.
Remove a subplot that added stakes? Now the pacing, tension, and character arcs probably need rebalancing. Some characters might not even exist anymore, or have diminished roles.
Alter the ending? You’ll probably need to redo the groundwork for all your foreshadowing, stakes, and emotional payoffs.
Reveal a secret at the start instead of the end? Now everything that used to be a mystery no longer is, and you have to find new ways to create that all-important GMC.
(Here’s more with Oh, That's Subtle: The Little Things Holding Your Novel Back)
A great story isn’t a straight line.
Even the most plot-driven story unfolds in multiple directions, and those directions are all interconnected. Change a character’s motivation in chapter three, and they might not make the same choice in chapter nine. Give a character a secret they now have to hide, and they’ll act differently in an effort to keep that secret.
You’re not revising one element in isolation, but the entire story. Every part supports or reacts to the other parts.
If the change doesn’t matter, then it won’t affect the story in any major way. But that also means that situation isn’t affecting the story—so why is it there in the first place?
“Can I cut this and will it matter?” is a great tool to test aspects of your story to make sure they’re serving that story, and this has been abundantly clear in my revision. I’ve had to reevaluate every scene and how it drives the plot, character arcs, and story. If it didn’t serve those, it had to go. Which made it much easier for me to hack away all the extra gunk bogging the book down.
(Here's more with 5 Reasons You’re Struggling with Your Revision (And How to Fix Them))
One of the things I’m spending a lot of time on is tweaking how my protagonist feels in every scene, but that’s not the only problem you might run into in a revision of this type. You’ll also find:
Continuity Errors: Things that once made sense, no longer do, because whatever caused them doesn’t exist anymore.
Emotional Disconnects: Character reactions don’t align with new events, motivations, or goals.
Problem Hand-offs: A character the protagonist needs to work with no longer has a reason to interact with them—if they even still exist.
Faulty Cliffhangers: The resolution to a problem changed, so the chapters don’t end with the same impact, or they don’t move the narrative forward in the same way.
Good Old-Fashioned Fatigue: All those constant micro-adjustments wear you down, and might even cause you to skim past scenes that need work.
(Here’s more with 5 Ways to Revive a Manuscript That Doesn't Work)
The key to minimizing the work a rippled revision can cause is organization and planning.
Before you dive into edits, trace the ripple:
(Here’s more with Are You Ready to Revise? Prepping for a Revision)
Sometimes the ripple reveals a better story, as it did in my case for both my books. Sure, it’s taking a lot of work, but that work is so worth it. I’m changing my original vision so much as I’m bringing that vision into the spotlight, letting readers see what I knew the story could be.
Revisions are inevitable, but the good ones often cause a ripple effect that touches—and strengthens—the entire story. Sure, it’s a ton of work, but if you believe those changes will help you craft a more compelling story readers will love, then it’s totally worth all the work to ride those waves until the end.
EXERCISE FOR YOU: Think about the various aspects of your book and consider what would change if you…cut them? Changed them? Gave them to a different character? Would the story be better or worse or just different? If your instincts (or crit partners) are telling you something is off or not working well, what happens if you cut or change that bit?
What changes have you made that reshaped everything — and made it better?
The problems you don’t see coming when you change “one little thing.”
One of the things I’m spending a lot of time on is tweaking how my protagonist feels in every scene, but that’s not the only problem you might run into in a revision of this type. You’ll also find:
Continuity Errors: Things that once made sense, no longer do, because whatever caused them doesn’t exist anymore.
Emotional Disconnects: Character reactions don’t align with new events, motivations, or goals.
Problem Hand-offs: A character the protagonist needs to work with no longer has a reason to interact with them—if they even still exist.
Faulty Cliffhangers: The resolution to a problem changed, so the chapters don’t end with the same impact, or they don’t move the narrative forward in the same way.
Good Old-Fashioned Fatigue: All those constant micro-adjustments wear you down, and might even cause you to skim past scenes that need work.
(Here’s more with 5 Ways to Revive a Manuscript That Doesn't Work)
Don’t panic—plan.
The key to minimizing the work a rippled revision can cause is organization and planning.
Before you dive into edits, trace the ripple:
- What changes because of it?
- How does it affect the story down the line?
- What elements depend on each other? Is there an order to how they need to unfold, or can they happen as needed?
- Which scenes have to come first? Which can happen at any time? Maybe some have to be in Act One, others in Act Two, and some in Act Three, but where they show up can vary.
(Here’s more with Are You Ready to Revise? Prepping for a Revision)
There’s magic in the mayhem.
Sometimes the ripple reveals a better story, as it did in my case for both my books. Sure, it’s taking a lot of work, but that work is so worth it. I’m changing my original vision so much as I’m bringing that vision into the spotlight, letting readers see what I knew the story could be.
Ride the waves, don’t resist them.
Revisions are inevitable, but the good ones often cause a ripple effect that touches—and strengthens—the entire story. Sure, it’s a ton of work, but if you believe those changes will help you craft a more compelling story readers will love, then it’s totally worth all the work to ride those waves until the end.
EXERCISE FOR YOU: Think about the various aspects of your book and consider what would change if you…cut them? Changed them? Gave them to a different character? Would the story be better or worse or just different? If your instincts (or crit partners) are telling you something is off or not working well, what happens if you cut or change that bit?
What changes have you made that reshaped everything — and made it better?
Need help revising? Get all three Fixing Your Revision Problems books in one omnibus!
This book contains Fixing Your Character & Point-of-View Problems, Fixing Your Plot & Story Structure Problems, and Fixing Your Setting & Description Problems--PLUS a BONUS workshop: How to Salvage Half-Finished Manuscripts.
A strong story has many parts, and when one breaks down, the whole book can fail. Make sure your story is the best it can be to keep your readers hooked.
With clear and easy-to-understand examples, Revising Your Novel: First Draft to Finished Draft Omnibus offers eleven self-guided workshops that target the common issues that make readers stop reading. It will help you:
Available in paperback and ebook formats.
Janice Hardy is the award-winning author of the teen fantasy trilogy The Healing Wars, including The Shifter, Blue Fire, and Darkfall from Balzer+Bray/Harper Collins. The Shifter, was chosen for the 2014 list of "Ten Books All Young Georgians Should Read" from the Georgia Center for the Book.
She also writes the Grace Harper urban fantasy series for adults under the name, J.T. Hardy.
When she's not writing novels, she's teaching other writers how to improve their craft. She's the founder of Fiction University and has written multiple books on writing.Website | Facebook | Twitter | Pinterest | Goodreads | Amazon | Barnes & Noble | iTunes | Indie Bound
This book contains Fixing Your Character & Point-of-View Problems, Fixing Your Plot & Story Structure Problems, and Fixing Your Setting & Description Problems--PLUS a BONUS workshop: How to Salvage Half-Finished Manuscripts.A strong story has many parts, and when one breaks down, the whole book can fail. Make sure your story is the best it can be to keep your readers hooked.
With clear and easy-to-understand examples, Revising Your Novel: First Draft to Finished Draft Omnibus offers eleven self-guided workshops that target the common issues that make readers stop reading. It will help you:
- Flesh out weak characters and build strong character arcs
- Find the right amount of backstory to enhance, not bog down, your story
- Create unpredictable plots that keep readers guessing
- Develop compelling hooks to build tension in every scene
- Determine the right way to include information without infodumping
- Fix awkward stage direction and unclear character actions
Available in paperback and ebook formats.
Janice Hardy is the award-winning author of the teen fantasy trilogy The Healing Wars, including The Shifter, Blue Fire, and Darkfall from Balzer+Bray/Harper Collins. The Shifter, was chosen for the 2014 list of "Ten Books All Young Georgians Should Read" from the Georgia Center for the Book.She also writes the Grace Harper urban fantasy series for adults under the name, J.T. Hardy.
When she's not writing novels, she's teaching other writers how to improve their craft. She's the founder of Fiction University and has written multiple books on writing.
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