How Do You Know When to Stop Rewriting?

A few days ago, I pulled these Blue Aventurine pebbles out of my rock tumbler. It was not the first time they’d been through the cycle. It might have been the third, fourth, or even the fifth time.

I can’t tell what you see when you look at those rocks. Some people apparently think, “Shiny blue rocks. Cool.” Others probably think, “Who cares. They. Are. Rocks.”

I can tell you what I see when I look at them. Well, I could tell you if there weren’t so many swears involved. The mark-up on the detail below will give you the general idea:

After endless months in the tumbler, these rocks were about a thousand times shinier than they were when I started — and they still weren’t finished.

They will never be finished.

They aren’t capable of being finished.

The core material is too full of pits that go all the way through. Since you can’t polish a hole, these stones can’t take a perfect polish.

The best use of my time is to give up and begin another project — a reality I should have faced several months earlier. The lesson to be learned here often applies equally well to our writing.

How do writers overcome perfectionism and call the job done?

It’s a question I’ve heard a lot. Of course, it depends on the work. If you’re a new writer, the answer often is, “You’re not ready to overcome perfectionism.”

Don’t be too impatient with this so-called flaw. Perfectionism can be a superpower if it gives you the patience to work long hours on your project.

Sure, being too self-critical costs you money when it makes you miss deadlines. However, impatience and sloppiness cost you money too. Sometimes a lot of money.

The agent you didn’t get. The workshop leader or mentor who didn’t take you seriously. The publisher who passed on offering you a contract. Those are real costs.

You get better at something by investing time in deliberate practice. You slow down, take your work apart, find weaknesses, figure out how to fix them, find strengths and figure out how to center them.

In other words, you rewrite, you revise, and you edit.

As someone who polishes stones, I’m never going to tell you to rush to publish. I’m a huge advocate of polishing. After all, it’s how we bring out the sparkle.

Stop editing at these checkpoints

Of course, the reality is, some people can’t stop rewriting even when they should. Some years ago, I worked for an online news publication. A chemical plant blew up near my town, but a new writer said he was already working on it.

A couple of hours passed, and the editor had more smoke coming out of his ears than the chemical plant did. He finally asked me to throw up a quick, “Breaking News,” item. He didn’t have time to do it himself because he was too busy firing the other writer.

The moral of that story is simple enough. Ephemeral pieces don’t need to be perfect. They need to be published.

When it comes to your novel, the decision to call it done can be more difficult. People will be investing hours, not a few moments, reading your work. Quite naturally, you want it to be perfect. And yet, the longer you look at it, the more mistakes you see.

Funny thing. That’s actually a good clue you should stop editing. Not forever, but for a time.

I like to step away from the first or second draft of a novel. Sometimes, I send it out to beta readers, especially if the plot is complex. You can use paid or volunteer betas. I’ve done both. Either way, fresh eyes spot problems weary eyes overlook.

You want your own eyes to be fresh too. Don’t cut the resting period too short. Give it a few weeks before you return to the manuscript.

After a month or two, I’ll usually print it out to read. Occasionally, I’ll convert it to read on a tablet.

What I never do is start a fresh-look read at my desk. When I’m at the computer, it’s way too easy to start correcting typos. That’s a distraction from reading for story.

It’s a waste of time to fix minor stuff when your plot doesn’t yet make sense. Like my ugly stones, some plots are full of holes. Fix that stuff first.

What if I still hate it?

Some of us can’t fully trust our judgment. If we made something, we figure it’s never good enough. I suspect broken self-esteem is like pitted Blue Aventurine. It’s a problem that can’t be fixed.

That’s not a bad thing. We don’t have to fix things that can’t be fixed. All we have to do is stop fussing.

Let go and trust your team. If you’re self-published, you may feel like you don’t have a team. But you do.

If your beta readers finish the book instead of ghosting you, it’s good. If your editor can’t find anything to fix except typos, it’s good.

Are advance reviewers already emailing to get on the list for the next book? Oh, yeah. I don’t care how much you dislike it right now. It’s a good one.

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