MAIN POINTS:
• Revision is to words as practice is to music. Both are indispensable.
• Revision and proofreading are not the same thing, and they should be done separately.
• Among other benefits, revision helps you find out what you think.
“I’m good at bullshitting.” I overhear this phrase in hallways. I overhear it in the library. In coffeeshops and on the train. Always with pride and always at least as loud as the rest of the conversation. Spoken by a musician, it often follows comments about either writing or speaking about music.
“I’m not sure what I’m going to say. I’ll figure it out when I get on stage. I’m good at bullshitting.”
Or “They want a cover letter, too. I’ll come up with something the day it’s due. I’m good at bullshitting.”
Despite the bravado, “I’m good at bullshitting” is effectively confessing to mediocrity, a “one draft and I’m done” standard of writing. Serious musicians don’t use this approach for their playing. I’ve never heard, for example, “They want to hear the Debussy sonata. I’ll sightread it in the audition. I’m good at bullshitting.” Professional players recognize a “once and done“ approach – first reading as final performance – doesn’t produce successful outcomes. Professional-grade playing takes practice. Writing is no different obviously. Impactful words require time and attention. So, how to get serious about professional writing?
MUSICIANS PRACTICE, WRITERS REVISE.
The thought and energy spent getting the music exactly as you want it is called practice. The benefits hardly warrant mentioning. Practice involves making expressive decisions, embodying physical gestures, achieving natural and consistent reproduction. The potential dangers of neglecting practice are familiar, too: increased risk of mistakes or memory slips, technical breakdowns, and stiff or mechanical performances.
Writers have an analogous process. The thought and energy spent getting words to go the way they want is called revision. Similar benefits and risks make revision indispensable to writers and writing, improving the organization and expression of ideas while eliminating ambiguity and incoherence.
Musicians revise, too, of course. For example, Johannes Brahms famously overhauled his Piano Trio No. 1 in B, Op. 8 but described his efforts modestly, “I didn’t put a wig on it – but combed and tidied its hair a bit.”
Returning to words, nonfiction writer John McPhee stresses the centrality of revision in his book on writing, Draft No. 4, “The way to do a piece of writing is three or four times over, never once.” Fiction writer George Saunders talks, without irony or apology, about the 106th draft of his own stories (link). In On Revision, an aptly titled book about revision in academic writing, William Germano observes, “every worthwhile thing you read by anyone is merely the last revision in a series of revisions … the final performance after months of rehearsals.“
Advocating against “once and done” writing with a performance analogy is fortuitous. Germano’s “every worthwhile thing” echoes a first principle of musical training – every worthwhile thing you hear is the result of countless hours of practice – and so it’s likely to resonate with musicians, especially those who would never attempt “once and done” performance. So, why attempt it with words? Why risk professional opportunities with half-baked writing?
WHY REVISE?
On its face, “I’m good at bullshitting” is a boast. Someone says it, and we think, ”Harmless. Be polite. Smile and nod.” Herein lies the danger, subtly validating the statement and subconsciously reinforcing the notion that it might actually be true. Maybe there are some out there who are naturally gifted at crafting compelling messages about who they are and why it matters in any context and without premeditation?
Spoiler alert: It’s not true. As McPhee, Saunders, and Germano all imply: no one is sufficiently skilled at writing – or speaking or playing music, for that matter – to obtain no benefit whatsoever from reflecting on their ideas and seeking to improve their expression. While “once and done” might be fine for a note left for the dog-walker, your message about who you are, what you do, and why it matters deserves more of your attention, because it has the potential to set you apart in a competitive field. The dog-walker is likely to return, even if your note is unclear, a professional opportunity may not.
To be clear, I’m not suggesting what you write and what you say should receive equal attention to what you play. So even if you adopt the Saunders model and practice every day for 106 days before an important performance, you won’t need that many drafts of your bio for the program. Three or four should suffice.
Further, an investment in revision pays lasting dividends. The skills refined in one circumstance can be applied in another, in the same way the technical and expressive gains achieved by practicing that Debussy sonata will serve you when you take up other works by Debussy or sonatas by other composers.
HOW TO REVISE.
Given these benefits, I include revision as a discrete step in each writing guide. Here are some specific things you might do during that stage:
Polish. Improve your writing by playing with word choice, swapping out verbs, expelling unnecessary adjectives and adverbs, rearranging the order of sentences and sections, and experimenting with pacing, flow, style, and tone. Be cautious, though. Changes of this sort are often superficial – they change the appearance of your writing but generally not the substance of your message – and they can take up a lot of time.
Strengthen. Confirm what you write supports what you want to achieve. In other words, align content with objective. For example, a bio should detail your activities and achievements, not those of your teachers or mentors. In-concert remarks should provide guided listening for the audience, not instruction on how to play the music on your instrument.
Refine. Focus your writing by eliminating unnecessary material. Cut anything that is tangential or lacks an obvious connection to the main point. Also, be sure all that’s required is actually present. For example, a cover letter should address the ways in which your skills and experience align with the duties and qualifications of the position for which you’re applying without simply repeating the content of your resume.
Clarify. Ensure clear and logical organization of your writing and expression of your ideas. Prioritize direct language. Avoid poetic description and jargon. Write shorter sentences with simpler structure. Aim for one idea per paragraph (or section) and one paragraph (or section) per idea.
Stylize. Be sure your writing follows the conventions of the genre or style in which you’re writing, and integrate the best practices of that genre or style. For example, an artist bio should have an engaging opening followed by content that is organized clearly and logically. It should emphasize your professional status by placing educational credentials at the end.
Don’t proofread. It’s easy to confuse revision with proofreading. Proofreading is about fixing grammar and spotting typos. Revision concerns substantive changes designed to increase clarity and impact. I don’t have strong feelings about when you proofread – before revision, after revision, both – but I strongly recommend separating proofreading from revising, just as learning notes and rhythms occurs separately from settling on matters of interpretation.
Think. Last, and perhaps most important, revision is an opportunity to work through an idea and the most effective way to express it. For example, revisions of a bio or a cover letter or web content are opportunities to reconsider the three questions – Who I am? What I do? Why it matters? – from a variety of perspectives. On Revision author William Germano observes similarly, “You write for two reasons and two reasons only: first, to find out what you think, and, second, to share what you think with others.” English author E. M. Forster is even more direct: “How do I know what I think till I see what I say?” Turns out revision benefits writer and reader alike.
CLOSING THOUGHTS
Revision is to words as practice is to music. Both are indispensable. Thankfully, revision doesn’t need to become an obsession or occupy large portions of your day. By elevating your professional writing above the “once and done” standard, you gain a competitive advantage over those loudly and proudly touting false confidence. You set yourself apart from those who unwittingly confess to underestimating the risks of making it up as they go along. Revision is, even in small doses, a potent antidote to the harmful effects of bullshit.
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