Sap to Syrup

Posted by Dale Cramer on January 18, 2011

“There’s nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein.” — Walter Wellesley “Red” Smith

My first novel, Sutter’s Cross, was an experiment. Based on the numbers in Writers Market I figured out that the odds of publishing a novel were actually better than publishing a short story, and I had already published a few short stories in literary magazines. All I needed was a novel. I already had a first chapter, in the form of a short story that didn’t really end, and it started with what may be the best opening line I’ll ever write— “The first time I ever saw Harley he was wearing my pants.” I fleshed out some characters and followed them around for three years and seven or eight complete rewrites before I finally had a finished draft. Then I sent it to an agent, and she had me rewrite it. Later, she sent it to a publisher and they had me rewrite it. Twice. Even after all that, I still see things I could have done better in that first book.

Point is, it was an experiment, a chunk of clay. That was my attitude the whole time I was doing it. I was practicing, learning from experience what worked and what didn’t. I was never afraid of changing, of cutting and slashing to make it tighter. Good writing is not what you first put down on the paper, it’s what you end up with after you beat the pulp out of it. Less is more. Shorter is harder, but better. Brevity isn’t just the soul of wit.

I learned this at the age of forty-three, from a friend who had me write an article. I worked on that thing for a week and ended up with 2400 words, every one of which was my child. He read it and said, “Cut it in half.” So I worked on it for another week, slaughtering half my children. When I took it back to him he said, “It’s better, but you need to cut it in half again.” Another week of Herodian sickle-slinging carved it down to 600 words. The thing that surprised me was that it still said everything I wanted it to, and it was clearer. Much clearer. Major lesson, that. You find ways to say more with less.

Early on in the writing of Sutter’s Cross I came to a place where my assignment for the day was to describe the relationship between two young boys— best friends forever. I wrote long-hand on a legal pad, free-associating about all the things they’d been through together and what they meant to each other. I scribbled for three or four hours and ended up with ten pages.

Then I started cutting and slashing, taking out anything vaguely repetitive or unnecessary, finding sharper verbs, better analogies. By the time I got down to five pages it had become a game to me, seeing how far I could condense it without losing anything. A couple more hours pared it down to one page. By the end of the day I’d boiled ten pages down to a single paragraph. A whole day’s work— one paragraph. Forty gallons of sap to make a gallon of syrup. (Yes, I’m aware that using the sap and syrup analogy is putting it on a tee for the cheap-shot artists out there. Go ahead, I’ll be your huckleberry.)

In my own defense, here’s the paragraph:

—The bond between Eddy and Marcus was forged from the mystical stuff of summer: great shoulder-to-shoulder quixotic charges against impossible odds, pelting a wasp nest with rocks and beating a higgledy-piggledy retreat to the river swatting wasps off each other’s backs; the smells of dust and leather that would forever conjure images of sandlot baseball heroics; the distant plantive call of a mother’s voice as bats are shouldered and boys turn toward the yellow lights of home, laughing and punching, raking sweat-cooled hair from foreheads, satisfied for today. These were the purest rays of untarnished youth, bits of joy and pain they would gather and sew together to keep, like an extra quilt, for when they grew old and lay dying.—

Sap or syrup, the paragraph is a lot better than the ten pages. The funny thing is, if you keep writing you keep learning. That was ten years ago, and when I look at it now I think I might be able to do it a little better.

A little tighter.

Like what you see? Share it with a friend!

17 Comment(s)

Fabulous! Pure gold. Thank you!

Camille Eide
Jan 18, 2011 | Reply
Epigrammatic.

Dan Wall
Jan 18, 2011 | Reply
I never tire of reading about cutting and condensing prose, and this is a great post on the subject. Overwriting has been my nemesis for a long while, but I’m getting better at beating it. Having cut a 325K novel down to 128K, without losing anything I truly wanted to say (okay… there’s one scene I’ll stick back in when no one’s looking, if I ever get the chance), shaving off words has become a game of challenge with me as well.

Lori Benton
Jan 18, 2011 | Reply
@Lori Benton:
325K? You trying to compete with Diana Gabaldon?

Dale Cramer
Jan 18, 2011 | Reply
I read another guy’s blog-like description of a similar condensing but he claims it happened to his army. Gideon somebody.

Loved your title.

Leah Morgan
Jan 18, 2011 | Reply
You’ve got a way with word, you know? You should be a writer. I’m gong to link this page over at S6 where I think some motivation is definitely called for.

Elise Skidmore
Jan 18, 2011 | Reply
Some days I think the editing is MORE fun than the actual writing–I love the puzzle of it.

And some days it’s even fun to kill the darlings.

Michelle Ule
Jan 19, 2011 | Reply
I really enjoyed reading Sutter’s Cross!
it’s the one that got me hooked, into reading your other books

jel
Jan 19, 2011 | Reply
@Michelle Ule:
I worry about you, Michelle. But I wonder what would happen if writers TRADED manuscripts when it was time to edit. You kill my darlings, I kill yours. Nah. Now that I think about it, that would be a sure-fire way to end a friendship.

Dale Cramer
Jan 19, 2011 | Reply
Dale, that is an awesome analogy. Having done the slash and burn routine and numerous revisions, this hit pretty close to home.

Good work.

Julie Weathers
Jan 19, 2011 | Reply
Actually… yes. I’m part of the writing forum and have known Diana on line for many years. Her books inspired the setting of that novel and my interest in 18C history. So, it was little surprise my novel came out so long (among other reasons; over writing in the first draft is just my bent). But seeing as we can’t all be Diana, I’m learning to be concise.

Lori Benton
Jan 19, 2011 | Reply
Lori, I thought your name looked familiar. I grew up in that forum as well. I got my start in the exercise section, as did Karen White. I’ve said many times it’s the only really excellent online forum, and the sheer number of published authors who started there bears that out. Diana’s stuff is unique in that she has the energy and vision to sustain a story through a thousand pages without ever dragging a step. I’ve read most of it, and I can’t imagine anyone doing historical better than she does.

Dale Cramer
Jan 19, 2011 | Reply
Dale, most of what I know about writing I learned on that forum. I’ve known through Elise that you used to hang out there; perhaps our paths crossed in my early days? That was probably the mid 1990s. I didn’t join until it was opened to the web at large. I appreciate the high caliber of civility and support the place has maintained all these years (decades!).

Diana is amazing, not just for her own work, but for the time she spends on the forum and the accessibility she allows. The novel that got me agented last year was inspired by a minor character in her Drums of Autumn (the Scots-speaking slave, Josh), the research behind which she shared with me, and off I tripped down the path of “what if.”

Lori Benton
Jan 20, 2011 | Reply
It’s no wonder the second book on deadline can be such a challenge for so many authors. I wonder what Marcel Proust could have produced with a word processor.

Michael K. Reynolds
Jan 21, 2011 | Reply
Michael, I’ve wondered the same thing myself. What would it have done to guys like Steinbeck and Hemingway, who wrote longhand with a pencil and sprayed fixer on their pages at the end of the day? Would it have increased their production, or watered down their art? Things were different then. A lot of the classics would have a hard time finding a publisher today. They’re too “slow”.

Dale Cramer
Jan 21, 2011 | Reply
Hello All, First time poster and looking forward to being a part of the group.

Sarah S
Feb 17, 2011 | Reply
This explains why so much of what’s out there leaves me feeling like I swallowed something but I’m not contentedly full. I’d rather take my time and savor the syrup than guzzle a gallon of watery sap. Do you think the folks at the library would mind if I slapped “SAP” identification labels on a few spines and “SYRUP” on yours?

Julia Parissi
Feb 23, 2011 | Reply

Sap to Syrup

17 Comment(s)

Leave a Reply