My word count ticked upwards each day, at least five hundred and often more. Sometimes I wrote a thousand a day, once I reached two thousand, and I developed bruises from patting myself on the back.
However, quantity doesn’t guarantee quality: words may be a mirage. Often you’ll try to capture a concept but your first draft doesn’t quite capture the idea, so you have another go, and another, and leave all three attempts in. You won’t impress your readers.
Switch mindsets after your first draft. Stop rewarding yourself for adding, take pleasure in erasing, even if you’ve sweated over the first draft, even when you love a particular turn of phrase. Go through your first draft’s chapters and note which points need making; write your point clearly and not more than once. Do characters need to turn to speak; do they need to pick up a sword before brandishing it? Less clutter means stronger prose.
Taking twenty words to describe an event first time around is fine, but always seek economy: George Orwell suggested cutting words whenever possible. Put yourself in the reader’s eyes and see how they will interpret your words; as a writer your job is to plant the right image and using fewer words will reduce chances for mis-interpretation. One practical trick I’ve used is to print out your work and re-type it into your computer; use your natural laziness to censor the duplicate and the wordy.
Re-writing is a time to add depth and colour. I remember turning the sound low on scary TV films as a boy; not wanting random blasts of terrifying noise. However, I turn up the volume in my rewrites and seek ways to show noises, smells and textures where possible to nail what’s happening and evoke emotional responses.
I set part of my novel in a museum. I’m always eager to increase any threats my characters face, so I made the museum long abandoned and gave the exhibits life. Dolls watch my characters and mannequins give chase; my first draft lacked this detail but peril came with the rewrites. I’ve snicked out vagueness, my first draft swarmed with trees and food and weapons, my rewrite mentions oaks, mouldy cheese, and knives. The extra focus helps evoke a richer picture in my reader’s minds.
Rewrites can re-order events to let readers see cause and effect. If two guards consider arresting a character, I’ll give them reason to suspect, have them threaten arrest, give the target an argument, and show the resolution. A first draft can often cram these events together and confuse your reader; the second draft’s job is scrutiny and untangling.
How many edits have I run on my current novel? It’s approaching double figures, but my work is stronger, clearer, more economical, more vivid, more fluent and uses words with more flair; even if it uses fewer words.