By Sabyasachi Roy
First drafts are liars. They tell you you’re brilliant, only to let you down when you read them the next day and wonder if your cat walked across the keyboard. But that’s okay—because the magic happens when you rewrite. Writing is a romantic affair, but rewriting? That’s where you grab your manuscript by the collar and ask, “What the hell was I thinking?”
Writing vs. Rewriting: Two Different Animals
Writing is the easy part. You pour words onto the page, fueled by caffeine and blind optimism. Rewriting, though? That’s surgery—sometimes with a scalpel, often with a chainsaw. You’re not just fixing typos; you’re questioning entire plotlines, slashing dialogue, and realizing that the chapter you thought was so deep reads like a bad soap opera.
Take F. Scott Fitzgerald. His first draft of The Great Gatsby was bloated with unnecessary fluff and lacked the punch we now admire. It was his editor, Maxwell Perkins, who pointed out that Gatsby himself was a little too shadowy and needed more flesh. Without those brutal edits, Gatsby might’ve stayed just another rich guy throwing parties.
When Editors Become Co-Creators
Speaking of editors, they don’t just fix commas—they save writers from themselves. Raymond Carver’s short stories became lean, mean, emotional machines after his editor, Gordon Lish, took the red pen to them. Lish trimmed Carver’s verbose tendencies, turning decent stories into literary gems that punched you in the gut. There’s a reason Carver’s minimalism feels raw—it was carved (pun intended) by someone who wasn’t afraid to wield the knife.
Editors step in with fresh eyes, catching what writers miss—because after staring at the same 300 pages for months, objectivity flies out the window.
How to Approach Revision Without Losing Your Sanity
Revising doesn’t mean tinkering with a few adjectives. It’s a full-contact sport. Start with the big stuff—structure, pacing, character arcs. Ask yourself: Does this chapter move the story forward, or am I just showing off my knowledge of 18th-century shipbuilding?
Here’s a trick: print it out. Seeing your words on paper somehow makes it easier to spot the crap. Or, read it aloud if you’re feeling brave. You see, nothing exposes clunky dialogue like hearing it echo back at you in a quiet room.
Personal Tip: Read It Backwards (No, Really)
One thing I’ve learned? When your brain is too familiar with your work, it auto-fills what should be there. Reading backward, sentence by sentence, forces your brain to slow down. It’s weird, but it works. You’ll catch awkward phrases and repetitive sentence structures that you’d otherwise skim past.
The Real Secret: Let It Breathe
Finally, give your draft some space. Stick it in a drawer, forget about it, and go binge-watch a show where people make bad life choices. When you come back to it, you’ll see it with fresh eyes—and that’s when the real rewriting begins.
Because here’s the truth: the difference between a good writer and a great one isn’t raw talent. It’s the willingness to tear their own work apart and stitch it back together—better, stronger, and a little less embarrassing. So next time your draft looks like a dumpster fire, remember: that’s just the first step. The real magic? It’s in the rewrite.
Bio: Sabyasachi Roy is an academic writer, poet, artist, and photographer. His poetry has appeared in The Broken Spine, Stand, Poetry Salzburg Review, Dicey Brown, The Potomac, and more. He contributes craft essays to Authors Publish and has a cover image in Sanctuary Asia. His oil paintings have been published in The Hooghly Review. You can follow his writing on Substack here.
