Devoted to publishing, publishers and to those who craft the written word

“Accidents ambush the unsuspecting, often violently, just like love.”

That’s the opening passage from The Gargoyle, one of the publishing world’s biggest releases this year. The book doesn’t feel like an accident—it reads like an obsessive, intricate dream.  

Still, after reading all the profiles and accolades for first-time author Andrew Davidson, it’s easy to forget that he was just like us—writing, editing and furiously trying to publish his epic book. Today, Davidson is our special guest, explaining how he made his final, crucial revisions.

Welcome to my deceptively simple feature, Five Easy Questions.

In the spirit of Jack Nicholson’s mad piano player, I run a weekly set of quality conversations with writing pioneers—delivering some practical, unexpected advice about web writing. 

Jason Boog:

In your Wall Street Journal interview, you said that you revised your novel after an initial rejection--taking out nearly 40,000 words. This must have been an overwhelming experience. Can you describe, on practical terms, how you undertook this difficult revision? Any advice for fledgling writers struggling to revise?

Andrew Davidson: When I first submitted The Gargoyle to Eric Simonoff, who would eventually become my agent, I knew that it was too long. Continue reading...

The problem was that I’d been working on it for so many years that I had gotten lost in the words. I was actually hoping he’d like the writing enough to take me on, and then suggest a professional editor with whom I might work.

It didn’t happen that way; instead, Eric wrote to me that while he liked my writing, he had been “defeated by the (book’s) girth”—which I understood, and to which I did not take any offense. But basically it was: Thanks for submitting. Of course, this was in the most polite of ways; Eric is nothing but a consummate gentleman.

I’m not such a gentleman, however, and I immediately emailed back to ask if he would consent to looking at the novel again if I cut it substantially. He said “yes”—perhaps thinking he’d never hear from me again, or perhaps because he was wondering what I could do with it.

I was reinvigorated by Eric’s interest and I made a very simple decision: I would remove every word that didn’t move the plot forward. It didn’t matter how much I liked a section. It didn’t matter if I had spent a hundred hours working a paragraph until it was “just right.” It didn’t matter if I thought the writing was the best in the book, as far as placing one word after the other. If it didn’t move the story forward, it was gone.

This was one of the best writing experiences of my life. I learned—I mean, I really understood in a way that I had never before—that I didn’t have to hold onto beloved paragraphs out of vanity or a misguided allegiance to the work I had put in.

So my advice? I guess that would have to be: don’t love your writing more than the story it is meant to serve.

Want to read more of Andrew Davidson's advice? Follow these links to find out:

How Davidson Found An Agent

and What Books Inspired The Gargoyle

and How To Balance a Day Job and a Writing Life.