{"id":1100,"date":"2025-08-05T14:05:10","date_gmt":"2025-08-05T12:05:10","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/laurentchani.com\/?p=1100"},"modified":"2025-09-15T12:08:56","modified_gmt":"2025-09-15T10:08:56","slug":"the-author-does-not-throw-anything-away","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/laurentchani.fr\/en\/lauteur-ne-jette-rien\/","title":{"rendered":"The author doesn't throw anything away."},"content":{"rendered":"
\"A<\/a><\/figure>\n\n\n\n

I have planned a whole series ofitems<\/strong> for my blog<\/strong>, a good sixty for the moment. This one was not among my priorities. However, reading a ticket<\/strong> on www.atelierdesauteurs.com<\/strong><\/a>, I found an answer to one of my current concerns ofwriter<\/strong> still looking for bearings.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The post discusses a method of proofreading<\/strong> borrowed from Stephen King<\/strong>. The author of " That "<\/strong> and "Carrie"<\/strong> and tells of his difficult beginnings in Writing: Memoirs of a Profession<\/strong>, recalling his first manuscript submissions and the collection of rejection letters he received. One day, a publisher gave him this famous piece of advice:
Version 2 = Version 1 \u2013 10 %<\/strong>
This rule, which appeared severe, allowed Stephen King<\/strong> to become aware of the importance of pace<\/strong> and of the concision<\/strong> in thewriting<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This topic particularly resonates with me. During my studies, we were asked to be concise in our writing and analyses, to remove anything that didn't contribute to understanding the subject at hand. I was therefore firmly convinced that this rule naturally applied to my writing style. But the slimming imposed on my school writing left a lasting mark on me, to the point of traumatizing me for several decades.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Since I began my story, these canons no longer haunt me. Time has done its work and blunted my preconceived ideas. I decided one day to write above all for myself, giving free rein to my imagination. At first, I thought I would follow a sober and compact line. But, over the course ofwriting<\/strong> and the affirmation of my style<\/strong>, I noticed an unexpected development: my text became richer, thicker, as if it were taking on an unforeseen dimension. narrative arcs<\/strong> appeared on their own, intertwining, becoming essential elements.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The text I am about to publish is one of them. I had not imagined it at the beginning: it imposed itself as an obvious choice, fitting into the general chronology of thehistory<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

At first, I imagined that a novel<\/strong> had to do between 250 and 300 pages<\/strong>My plot, initially planned for seven days, stretched out: I wrote 150 pages<\/strong> without going beyond the first day. I then told myself that it would be unthinkable to write 1,000 pages<\/strong> for a novel without the experience of a seasoned writer. So I set myself the goal of stopping on this first day, convinced that I would reach a reasonable volume. But I was wrong. It was a misunderstanding of my chronic inability to "don't throw anything away"<\/strong>. HAS 300 pages<\/strong>, I was only halfway through the day. What reassured me was seeing the clock ticking forward, chapter after chapter. And then, one day, I finally reached 11:59 p.m.<\/strong>\u2026 After 700 pages<\/strong> ! I breathed a great sigh of relief: I had reached the end of the temporal straitjacket that I had imposed on myself.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Or at least, that's what I thought. Because, along the way, a new concept was grafted onto the main plot without my knowledge. I found myself with the initial plot completed at the end of the planned twenty-four hours... but also with gaps to fill and a new narrative arc<\/strong>I don't remember how it came about, but it ended up taking a prominent place in my story.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This secondary common thread developed autonomously, until it became a real sub-story<\/strong> of 350 pages<\/strong> \u2014 a third of the manuscript<\/strong> unfinished total, which then reached 1,000 pages<\/strong>. Although linked to themain story<\/strong>, this subplot could almost exist on its own. So it was to this that I chose to devote myself first: it would become my very first published work<\/strong>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

So I am far from the famous principle of Stephen King<\/strong> :
Version 2 = Version 1 \u2013 10 %<\/strong><\/p>\n\n\n\n

For all intents and purposes, I consulted my "virtual friend"<\/strong>. I asked him the question:
When we start in thewriting<\/strong>, what do they say about the size of the version 2<\/strong> of a text compared to the first draft? Is there a commonly accepted average?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This is what he replied to me:
There is no universal rule<\/strong> nor an official average, but we observe trends among the authors:
\u2022 First draft often longer: many authors write too much in their first draft (digressions, repetitions, detailed descriptions). Rewriting then reduces the text by 10 to 30 % (Stephen King<\/strong> recommends 10 %). Example: an initial draft of 120,000 words becomes 90,000\u2013100,000 words after refining.
\u2022 First draft sometimes shorter: Some writers first write a minimalist text, then add details, dialogue or transitions. The second draft can then be 20 to 50 % longer than the first.
\u2022 Average allowed: the version 2<\/strong> is often shorter (reduction of 10 to 20 %). The important thing remains the density<\/strong> and the relevance of each word.
\u2022 Variations according to genre: historical frescoes or the fantasy<\/strong> are fleshed out with rewrites; intimate or psychological stories are lightened by removing superfluous scenes. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Examples:<\/p>\n\n\n\n