The Art of Saying Too Much and Not Enough

An Overwriter and an Underwriter walk into a four square match

An evening of live storytelling

• The final performance for this spring’s storytelling class is Thursday, May 22nd, 7:30pm at the Carrboro ArtsCenter. Get your tickets now!

Jumpstart your writing in June

• If you’re looking to jumpstart your writing, Durham writer Allison Kirkland is offering a writing circle in June for folks to meet up on Zoom and get some writing done. More info here.

---

In my recent post about the revision machete, I casually mentioned that I’m an Overwriter. Which isn’t totally true¹.

Before we dig into that maybe-lie, let me explain what I mean. In the most general sense, an Overwriter writes more than is needed; their revision process consists mainly of paring back. An Underwriter² produces skeleton scenes and spends revision time building them out.

Let’s look at some examples, using the four square duel I recently wrote about. Here’s how it began:

It’s 1990. I’m 9 years old, playing four square at my new school with Danielle, Katie, and Molly who are obviously cooler than me, as demonstrated by their outfits from Limited Too.

While that paragraph is fine, it is only fine because I macheted it in revision. In the first draft, The Overwriter included several pages of backstory detailing the narrator’s first encounter with each of these girls. There were two pages on Danielle, whom I met in the lunchroom over tuna melts and discussion of hoop earrings, which she thinks are very cool even if her mom won’t let her wear them. Then a page on Katie, whom I met in art class, who drew a very good lion, who has purple keds, whose mom is a doctor, who has four older sisters, who...talked a lot. Lastly, Molly, whom I met in the bathroom where she looked at herself sideways in the mirror, put two fists under her shirt, and said ‘look at how huge my boobs are’ before descending into laughter.

Wait, what was this scene about again?

Yep—after one whole paragraph, The Overwriter was like hey what if we go on a pages-long detour to explore the origin of each of these relationships in a way that has no direct bearing on the front story?? And then the Revision Machete was like nuh uh girl <swipe whack chop>

The Overwriter loves endless backstory and detailed descriptions that don’t enhance the tension of the scene.

Then, in the next two paragraphs, the Underwriter enters the fray.

All the girls in my grade seem to have known each other for years. They have inside jokes I don’t get, an easy way about them, giggling and having fun. I want that—to giggle, have fun, be liked. So, though I’ve never played four square before and have little athleticism or coordination, I step up to the court.

The girls expertly move the ball back and forth while I watch. Danielle launches it deep into Molly’s square. Molly taps it short back to Danielle. Danielle pushes it over to Katie. It bounces in the middle of her square, then Katie firmly sends it back to Danielle, who sends it back to Molly. Molly one-hands her return, which bounces near the line between us. Katie deftly left hands it back to Molly.

The Underwriter is responsible for some key bits missing in the above. The first paragraph is really general, a missed opportunity to be specific in a way that grabs the reader. On revision, I would add an example of an inside joke the narrator is on the outside of, e.g. “giggle farts!” someone yelled, and they all burst out laughing.

I would also add some gestures and details, like Katie flipping her strawberry-blond hair, Molly and Danielle passing cherry-flavored lip gloss back and forth then clapping out Down Down Baby so fast the narrator can’t even make out the words³.

In the second paragraph, the physical movements and descriptions are sparse. On revision, I would add specific and vivid details that show what’s happening and increase tension:

Molly sent the ball in a wide arc, over Danielle’s head. It hovered near the line, then dropped in the back corner with a satisfying thwap. Danielle zipped to it, wrapped her small hands around it as she glared at Katie. She thrust it toward Katie’s shiny Sambas and grunted a little after she released the ball.

Furthermore, there’s lot of stuff outside the four square match that isn’t mentioned but could be. What’s the weather like? Are there kids playing other games nearby? Which adults are on recess duty? Where are they in relation to the four square court? What other sights, sounds, and even smells could be added to further enrich the scene?

Details, specifics, and texture that add ambience and tension are what the Underwriter leaves out.

So are you an Overwriter or an Underwriter? I’m willing to wager that you, like me, are both.

I’m currently on draft 437 of my novel, and the Overwriter and the Underwriter are in close quarters. I’m hacking away tons of stuff that doesn’t need to be there while adding lots of gesture, description, movement, and yes, new scenes. Some of which will be hacked away on the next pass.

That’s the funny thing about revision. Mostly it goes like this: you add, you substract. You add some more over here. You subtract a whole bunch of over there. Then you add this other stuff. Then you subtract some more. And so on and so forth.

Once, a student commented that this seemed like a very inefficient way to write.

Gently I replied, if you came to writing because you thought it would be efficient, you’d best seek out another pasttime.

But if you came for the wondrous mess of creation, you’re in the right place.

Keep writing, friends.

1. Most of what comes out of the mouth of fiction writer is sort of true, sort of not true.

2. Not to be confused with insurance and mortgage people whose voodoo I cannot explain.

3. According to the internet, they are:
Down down baby, down by the roller coaster,
Sweet sweet baby, I’ll never let you go.
Shimmy shimmy coco pop, shimmmy shimmy pow!
Shimmy shimmy coco pop, shimmy shimmy break down!
I like coffee, I like tea.
I like my friends and my friends like me.
Let’s get the rhythm of the head (ding, dong)
Let’s get the rhythm of the hands (clap, clap)
Let’s get the rhythm of the feet (stomp, stomp)
Let’s get the rhythm of the hot dog,
Put it all together and what do you get?
Ding dong, clap clap, stomp stomp, hot dog!
Say it all backwards and what do you get?
Hot dog, stomp stomp, clap clap, ding dong!