We’ll Fix It In Post: How to Revise—and Save—Your Novel
By Matthew Norman | March 11, 2025 |
Back when I used to work in advertising, I routinely found myself at photo or commercial shoots that appeared to be unequivocal disasters. A freezing fitness model wearing a thin running tank top in March in Baltimore. A professional golfer on a beautiful day in Texas bundled up in a rain-proof jacket. A red sweater that needs to be blue because of a problem in a factory on another continent. A midday that’s meant to be sunrise.
As a copywriter I was a natural-born pessimist, so in these situations I’d always look with trepidation at one of the art directors. “Dude, chill,” they’d say. “We’ll fix it in post.”
I was reminded of that expression last year after finishing the first draft of my sixth novel. I’d pitched the book as a holiday love story about a grieving widow and widower who find comfort and eventual happiness while binge watching classic Christmas movies together. A few weeks after I turned it in, when my editor called with her feedback, our conversation started out great. The draft was funny, heartfelt…etcetera.
“I do have some notes, though,” she said.
I’ve been at this long enough to know that editors always lead with what’s good, so I was prepared for that. Still, though, I held my breath.
“Your main characters don’t really watch that many movies together,” she said.
I kept not breathing as she noted the exact number of movies watched. It was, indeed, not many.
“And, you know,” she continued, “for a love story, they spend almost no time together until the very end. And, well, there’s not a lot of Christmas stuff going on, is there? You’d think there would be, it being December and all…and a holiday book.”
I made a noise like, “Hmm,” as my vision blurred from lack of oxygen.
“Oh, and also,” she said, “you’re ugly.”
Okay, she didn’t say that last bit, but her point was clear, and she was absolutely right: I had a lot to fix in post.
We all know that first drafts are never perfect, and revision is as much a part of the writing process as carpel tunnel syndrome and printer jams. But here are some tips for handling big revisions, the full-on rewrite kind, the ones that make you wonder if your first draft is…well, too much of a disaster to even save.
Revisit Your Pitch
A pitch is really just a bunch of promises, right? Maybe your pitch is a formal document saved on your computer. Maybe it’s just a collection of thrown-together thoughts saved in your head. Either way, go back and look hard at the promises you made about the book you planned to write. You promised that it’d be about something. It would feel a certain way—tonally, esthetically. It would fit into the literary landscape somehow, either through genre or comparative titles. Readers would care about it for several very specific reasons. Go through each promise and ask, “Did I deliver on that one?” Make a list of every time the answer is no, then start your revision there.
For me, I’d wandered away from my book’s fundamental hook to the point of abandonment. It was going to take some effort, but my main characters—their names are Grace and Henry, by the way—were going to need to watch a lot more movies together. Oh, and things were going to have to get way, way more Christmasy.
Go Back to the Basics
As we advance in our writing lives, it’s easy to stop thinking about the basics of storytelling. As you gear up emotionally for your revision, though, don’t be afraid to put your first draft through Writing 101. What do your characters want? Looking back on the journey they took in your draft, does their behavior align with their motivation? In my draft, particularly with regard to my character Henry, the answer was no. Consequently, his behavior at times felt random. Your reader will bear with aimlessness for a little while, particularly if your character is in grief. Eventually, though, they’re going to say, “Why are you wandering through a boring museum, Henry? Go outside and do something!”
Another basic tenant of writing that’s helpful to revisit in revision is your thesis statement. Yes, I know, I haven’t actually written one of those since junior high either. Every piece of writing should have one, though, even if it exists only symbolically. For me, my thesis statement went something like this: “It’s possible for two sad people to find love again through the universal joy of holiday movies.” As I went back through my messy fog of pages, that statement became my lighthouse. If a scene, description, or line of dialogue didn’t somehow work to eventually bring Grace and Henry closer together, it was probably doing more harm than good.
Commit to Writing the Hard Stuff
Here’s something I’ve noticed about myself as a writer—and, frankly, as a human being: I often take the easy way out. Although her words were kind, my editor’s grievances were actually a series of direct questions. Why didn’t you have Grace and Henry watch more movies? Why didn’t you have them be together more so the reader could watch their relationship blossom? Why didn’t you weave in more holiday stuff like you said you would, you moron? The answer to each of those questions—and a dozen or so more—was the same. “Um, because writing that would’ve been hard. Duh.”
Was I scared? Did I lack confidence? Was I just plain lazy? Partial yesses across the board. So, if you’re at all like me, I’m betting that some of your draft’s biggest problems are rooted in your aversion to writing the hard stuff. How does a guy who’s suddenly lost his wife laugh again at National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation? How does a widow with two young children find the courage to let another man into her complicated, fragile life? Honestly, I had no idea. For the sake of my book, though, I needed to find out, and fast. That meant sitting down and doing the work.
Believe That You Can Do What Seems Impossible
Remember those art directors I told you about—the ones who kept casually telling me to chill? In twenty years, in the face of so many problems, with deadlines always looming and asks that bordered on insane, they were never wrong. They always fixed it in post. No matter how much trouble your draft is in, remember that it’s made up of words on a screen—or on paper if you can get your printer to work. You have the power to change those words. With time, effort, and a little Christmas spirit…you can make them say whatever you want. And to all a good night.
Describe your biggest writing disaster. How did you fix it? What’s the most surprising feedback an editor has given you? Do you enjoy the revision process, or is it just a necessary evil? Have you noticed a consistent problem that pops up in your early drafts? If so, what is it? Yes, I know it’s March, but what’s your favorite holiday movie of all time?
Matthew Norman is the author of five novels. His latest, Charm City Rocks, is out now from Dell. His debut novel, Domestic Violets, was nominated in the Best Humor Category at the 2011 Goodreads Choice Awards, and his second novel, We’re All Damaged, was an Amazon bestseller. His upcoming novel, Grace & Henry’s Holiday Movie Marathon, will be out in October. He lives with his wife and two daughters in Baltimore and holds an MFA from George Mason University.
Hi Matthew! Great post (pun intended). I do not enjoy revising, and thus try to get everything right in my first draft, which is of course impossible. I’m just now starting to let myself leave notes in my WIP that say things like “Fix this in the next draft, dummy.” Will see if it helps. And two favorite Christmas movies – Love Actually (controversial, I know) and Christmas in Connecticut. Are either of those in your book?
Hey, Liz. Thanks. Love Actually is very much in the book. I’m a sucker for that one.
Really loved this post. Great reminders. Thanks!
Sure thing, Bart.
“ …an aversion to writing the hard stuff.” Yes. That’s me. And it can feel paralyzing. But I find it comforting to know that other (most?) authors feel this pain but remain committed to digging in and doing the necessary thorny work.
I’ll watch for Grace and Henry’s story this October. Love that Diehard is your first chapter. I can’t help but hope the couple will settle the “is Diehard a Christmas movie” dispute. (It is ;->) Congrats, Matthew!
Hey Matthew — I guess we can take a bit of heart in knowing not just that it’s human nature to avoid the hard parts, but also to totally convince ourselves that we haven’t done just that. Good for you for taking the barrage and realizing there were some solid strikes.
Favorite Christmas movies? Hmm. I have always been partial to Christmas In Connecticut, maybe because Dennis Morgan is the splitting image of pictures of my dad in 1945. But also because Uncle Felix is a hoot. Lately though, I keep coming back to The Family Stone. Maybe because Sybil Stone reminds me so much of my mother-in-law, who has also passed away, and who was also “Mama Christmas.”
All of which reminds me that our job as storytellers really is to make people feel something. Christmas stories take that fundamental premise, strip it naked, and put it on steroids. Thanks for making me feel like attacking my revision again (after letting it sit on my chest and give me nuggies for far too long).
Love The Family Stone! The scene at the end with the Diane Keaton photos wrecks me every year!
Yes, I believe in the power of revision. I do so much cutting in revision. In early drafts, I notice, somehow I write the same scene multiple times but in different places with different dialogue. If I can recognize that, I can choose the best one and cut the others. And that’s fun.
Another thing I tend to do in early drafts is write right up to the point where it gets hard. The scene might end at a turning point, but the ending feels too abrupt. In revision I can go back into the scene and look around, see something meaningful, react to dialogue, go deeper into my character, discover another layer, pull the opening into the ending and point to the next chapter.
In the first draft it’s so dark I feel blind and in a rush to get out of there. In revision it’s like I have a flashlight and time to linger. That’s when I can find the treasures.
Fave Xmas movie – Bad Santa. But this year it was A Complete Unknown (that premiered on 12/25).
Hey. Love the flashlight comparison. A professor of mine in grad school made a similar comparison with car headlights and it has stuck with me for 20 years now.
“Believe That You Can Do What Seems Impossible“
Thank you. This is just the inspiration I needed this morning/month/year.
Go get ’em!
Hi Matthew, and thanks for your post. Humor is often in short supply, but always welcome.
As I am wont to do, I’m going to put on my contrarian hat. Only at the end of your post do I learn that your couple consists of a man who’s lost his wife, and a widow with two small children. It’s the writer’s job to fulfill the contract with the reader–the premise–but what if the premise itself is the problem? Maybe your genre–the domestic comic novel–isn’t consistent with such a premise.
“… if you’re at all like me, I’m betting that some of your draft’s biggest problems are rooted in your aversion to writing the hard stuff. How does a guy who’s suddenly lost his wife laugh again at National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation?”
How indeed? It could be that I remember the movie’s broad humor too well, but maybe this hard stuff is too hard. I know from experience that another person can redeem a terrible time, but you are writing a comic novel. It seems possible to me that what made this the heavy lift you avoided is that laughing at a jokey movie just doesn’t fit with the losses these two characters have experienced. It would seem to trivialize them and the losses they’ve been through. But: if you succeeded in bringing it off, then you’ve managed one more Mission: Impossible.
Hey, Barry. I guess we’ll find out. Fingers crossed.
Your essay comes on the heels of a music workshop, in which all techniques eventually brought my attention to the basics, like breathing :) And what a difference it makes. I’m revising a historical (again) with that same attention to the basics, so I really appreciate your post. First drafts are both fun and frustrating because of too many possibilities. I do so much better during revision. Once I have a complete story, I can go deeper into it. I discover more about the characters, what the story really is about. And it’s work! It’s so great having an editor who asks the right questions. I like the premise of your new book and that you delivered upon the promises you made.
Perhaps because it is March and the beginning of Lent, the movie that comes to mind is Mel Gibson’s Passion. It’s the hardest, most violent movie I’ve ever seen, and I cry through it, but I’ve watched it every Good Friday for 15 years. It’s strange but I don’t have a favorite Christmas movie. Does that make me weird? Oh, there are several I like: Christmas Story, Die Hard, Little Women, but I don’t have to watch them every Christmas.
Hey there. “Die Hard” is the name of the first chapter in my book. Ha. It holds a soft spot in my heart.
Do I like revision? Yes, but I do it along with the creation process, as I go. It’s all one thing for me.
Hey, Beth. I’ve heard a lot of writers say this. It’s a cool approach, and I do a bit of it, too. If I let myself fall too far into “revision as I go,” though, I find that I can’t make any progress and I quickly drive myself insane.
Matthew, you’re really not THAT ugly, so don’t fret about it. Much good stuff here about clarifying the thematic/structural scaffolding of a work, and revisiting those clarifications, because as you suggest, the story can get away from you, and from its original face. (And speaking of faces, mine still likes to cry at It’s a Wonderful Life, despite it seeming shopworn.)
Your “fix in post” motif reminded me of when as a writer/proofer for our college paper, which—since I emerged in the Jurassic era—came from a typesetter in galley form, which was then waxed-glued onto “boards” for reproduction. The near-sighted proofreader, that being me, would sometimes do a last-minute check of the final galleys, only to see a typo, which sometimes required me to knife out a single letter from an old galley, and with an X-acto knife for placement, wax it back into a word to make a clumsy correction. Fixing it in post, baby. Thanks!
I love old school editing techniques. I dabbling in broadcasting in college (in the 90s) and had to razor edit film many, many times. My God, it was stressful.
Tom and Michael: Speaking of old-school techniques, my high school paper was printed with a hand-cranked mimeograph, drum lovingly enveloped in a thin sheet whose wax coating formed a stencil that had been cut by the cleaned and naked (ribbonless) keys of an office-standard manual typewriter. Any mistake in the stencil had to be corrected by smoothing out the wrong letter with the back of one’s fingernail, applying a bit of special smelly correction fluid, waiting for it to dry, and typing over the mistake. Furthermore, we were required by our advisor, a benevolent but strict dragon, to justify right as well as left on each column of each two-column sheet, having already prepared dummies on paper with the columns set to exact width and each article typed out (with black ribbon this time) to show whether the word spacing should be stretched (add /// to the right margin to indicate number of spaces) or crowded (type a character or two past the end). Guided by the dummy while typing the stencil, we could then shift the carriage half a space forward or back by hand, and immobilize it in place with one hand while typing on the stencil with the other hand.
(Whew! That was my writing exercise for today: the equivalent of John Gardner’s assignment to describe shooting a rat. Who shoots rats any more, or types out mimeo stencils?)
But I was going to say, “Great post, pun intended,” Liz. ;-)
Matthew, I’m so glad your voice is a part of the collective here. You make it easier to accept that the road to publication is lined with stockings stuffed with coal, potatoes, and onions (if my mother has anything to say about it), but that if we persevere, there might also be a candy cane or two hiding in there—alongside a tube of Crest (if my mother has anything to say about it).
On the subject of holiday movies, does The Nightmare Before Christmas count? I’ll take any excuse to rewatch that gem.
The Nightmare Before Christmas Totally counts! I’m kind of remembering it coming out around Halloween, though, but…whatever, it’s a holiday movie.
No, no. When your editor pointed out all the ways you weren’t fulfilling the premise, you should have just changed the title to Grace and Henry’s Thanksgiving Movie Weekend. Two-day rewrite, max.
Oh man…wish I would’ve thought of that a year ago.
Excellent post, Matthew. My greatest obstacle in revising is perfectionism. I dread the thought of rereading first drafts which will no doubt sound godawful upon second look. But as Chesterton wrote “If a thing is worth doing, it is worth doing badly.” He wasn’t talking specifically about writing, but it applies to first drafts.
Fave Christmas movie: “A Christmas Carol,” the 1951 version starring Alistair Sim.
Somewhere along the way someone said to me, “You can make it perfect later, just write.” I like that sentiment. Later. Later is good.