V is for Versions

I’ve said before that Foul and Fair represented my second attempt at writing the story of James Hogan and the Stoneleigh Swifts. The original version of Foul and Fair – called House of Red Cards at the time – was written during the second lockdown of 2020. It was the first time I had attempted to write a novel for an adult readership, having previously written for various children’s age groups without managing to attract the interest of a publisher. I was surprised by how much I enjoyed the format and the increased depth of storyline that a longer word-count made possible.

That first version went through several drafts, but was ultimately turned down by agents and publishers. By the time I had written Dead Man Singing and had that accepted for publication by the Book Guild, I had worked out what was wrong with House of Red Cards. There were a number of issues, not least those which the introduction of Hayley Birnham managed to address.

In the original draft, James had a habit of dropping quotes from songs into conversation, to go with his penchant for using literary quotes in team talks. I dropped that, partly because of copyright issues and partly because I wanted to create more of a distance between this book and its musically-focused predecessor. James’ references to Billy Bragg in the second chapter and then again later in the book are probably the only signs of that version of James to survive the revision.

I know some writers who love the experience of bashing out the first draft, but find the subsequent reworking and refining a chore. To some extent, I’m the opposite. The first draft can be exciting, getting to know your characters and feeling out the shape of the story, but there are times when it can also be a bit of a slog. The first draft of Dead Man Singing was quite straightforward and enjoyable, while the first draft of my as yet unpublished third book, Imogen Imagine, was much harder work. In either case though, my favourite part of the process comes after the first draft is done. Once you have established the lie of the land, you can start honing and polishing, changing details to make the whole thing sing. There’s a scene in West Wing where one character, Bruno, is talking about election campaigns and uses a metaphor from his younger days when he was involved in competitive yacht racing. The slightest thing that can slow the boat down has to be dealt with, even at the level of detaching a barnacle from the hull. Absolutely everything has to contribute to the goal of making the boat go faster. As I’ve written before, the redrafting process can be a bit like that. Everything is smoothed out and polished, everything has to contribute to the progress of the story. Sometimes just adding a word, or removing a word, or changing a word can make a difference, and when you have hundreds of small incremental changes, it can elevate your work to an entirely new level. I’m not saying I always – or ever – succeed in that, but that’s my favourite part of the writing process.