E________, first draft: 41,200 words
I have finally finished my winter read, The Brothers Karamazov, by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. Despite its length, and the time it took me to plough through it, winter is still here. I have hopes, though, of warmer days ahead.
Regarding Dostoyevsky’s novel, I’m not quite sure what to make of it. Being Russian and from the 19th Century it was, of course, long, and full of philosophical side trips, and dark, though nowhere near as dark as I was expecting. It was also wryly humorous and, at times, utterly compelling. Not an easy book to describe by any means.
One thing I am sure of, though. There is no way Dostoyevsky could have sold The Brothers Karamazov into the modern market. It is far too long, lacks focus, and rambles all over the place. It does not meet the modern demand for tightly plotted stories told at pace – even allowing for the more relaxed standards of literary fiction – the “classy” genre – which has a higher tolerance for introspection. Insofar as The Brothers Karamazov is about anything, it is about a murder and the subsequent trial. But in the Penguin Classics edition, which is 985 pages long, we don’t even know there’s been a murder until nearly six hundred pages in. A modern editor would have told Dostoyevsky that he’d started his novel too soon and cut out the first two thirds of the book. Then he’d have a story!
Editors matter. If you want an insight into what editors actually do, you could do a lot worse than take a look at Genius, starring Colin Firth, Jude Law, and Nicole Kidman, which looks at the relationship between the early twentieth century American author, Thomas Wolfe (not to be confused with his later namesake) and his editor, Max Perkins. Wolfe’s first draft of his most famous novel, Look Homeward, Angel, was something like eleven hundred pages long. Perkins persuaded him to cut it down considerably and focus on one character rather than spread himself thinly between several. The resulting novel was a sensational (and international) best seller.
When Braking Day, then called Starship Four, was taken on by my first agent (no one was more shocked and surprised than yours truly, by the way) she had a number of editorial suggestions. In addition to gently telling me that my title was … not good, she would say things like, “This particular character is intriguing. I want to know more about her. Where did she come from? Why is she doing this?” When she left the industry and passed me on to the estimable Brady, he had more of the same. “This particular character is intriguing. I want to know more about him. Where did he come from? Why is he doing this?”
The resulting manuscript was significantly improved from the original as a result. The characters were more nuanced, the plot more sophisticated. Then, when DAW agreed to buy it, my editor there, the redoubtable Leah, had more suggestions. “These characters that you barely mention are intriguing. I want to know more about them. Where are they coming from? Why are they doing this? Oh, and could you please change the ending by moving the characters a quarter of a million kilometers from where they presently are? Thanks!”
It was hard but rewarding work. A manuscript that I worried was getting too long at 110,000 words ended up at 130,000. But the result was a much more layered, more sophisticated treatment; way, way better than I had managed on my own.
Braking Day is now close to publication, and earlier this week we got a starred review from Publishers Weekly. I, of course, had no idea what a “starred review” was. Apparently, you get them for works that are “exemplary in their genre.” Wow. Here’s what PW had to say.
“Engineer-in-training Ravi MacLeod unwittingly becomes entangled in a dangerous conspiracy in Oyebanji’s brilliant debut, a vibrant exploration of society aboard a generation starship. One hundred and thirty-two years earlier, a fleet comprising three generation ships left an Earth overtaken by AI to forge a new life for humans on a planet orbiting Tau Ceti, the “Destination Star.” As they approach their final destination, Oyebanji paints a convincing picture of a society molded by unusual circumstance, highlighting its commitment to the mission and a class structure based on one’s status as either officer or crew member. Ravi’s on track to be the first in his family to make officer when he starts having visions of a strange girl outside the ship without a space suit who delivers an urgent warning. Concerned he might be going insane, Ravi turns to his cousin, Boz, for help, and the pair stumble across information that suggests the three-ship fleet is hiding a devastating secret about their departure from Earth. Oyebanji builds intrigue upon intrigue through the novel’s first half and pays off the suspense with a series of jaw-dropping revelations. Innovative worldbuilding, a plot packed with surprises, and Oyebanji’s nuanced exploration of social and cultural shifts make this a must-read for space opera fans.“
Obviously, reading something like this (I would not have read it if it had been bad!) is potentially head swelling. But the honest truth is that I would not have “earned” a review like this – and certainly not the language I have bolded – without the committed input of two agents and an editor. They cared deeply about what I had written and worked above and beyond to make it better.
Writing, it turns out, is a team effort.