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Revisions are an important part of writing. The more we understand revisions, the more we can enjoy the early stages of writing when an idea may be fresh and new, but unwieldy and awkward. Revisions give us the freedom to write down an idea or an entire piece as quickly as possible before we lose the edge.

Even if the words fall flat when they first step onto the page, it is important to let them loose. Push them all out as fast as possible, and let them settle in. Revisions will correct all wrongs.

Depending on the project, there typically is a need for some time to pass between the first draft and the finished product. For a blog it may be 5-10 minutes, for an article a few days may be needed–at least one night to sleep on it–and in the case of a novel many writers recommend 5-6 weeks.

Once the idea is down, you’ve saved it. It’s backed up and can never be lost. It’s a lump of clay that is prepared for the potter. Celebrate that small victory and prepare for the next step.

Many writers advocate that simply eavesdropping on other conversations is one of the best ways to learn how to write dialog. Finding a cafe, restaurant, or other public place can be a great way to study these every day interactions.

Teenagers have provided some of my favorite lessons on writing dialog. Their excessive volume makes them easy to hear and their excessive drama provides a wide range of emotions and situations. I never integrate such conversations into a story, but I hear them in my mind while writing similar dialog.

It’s no secret that theologians can be fairly bad, if not horrible writers. One of the exceptions to that rule is Tony Jones of “Theoblogy.” Jones lists his writing habits in a recent post. I think every writer can benefit by incorporating these basic rules of writing.

For a more thorough treatment of these practices, I recommend: On Writing Well by Zinsser and of course the Elements of Style: two must-reads for every writer. Check that. They are must not only be read but practiced.

Each month I will be sending out an email newsletter with writing samples, some theological writing, and writing tips. Below is a privacy policy concerning these newsletters:

Chapter Four

Tom of course had none of these things. With his back to the paneled wall of his cafe, he dipped a brillo pad into an old yellowed tupper ware bowl. The oversized price tags refused to peal off cleanly from the plastic lawn furniture he intended to use in the café seating area. Tom couldn’t resist a sale at Wal-Mart.

The door knob swiveled slightly, a loud creaking, and then a pause as the door snagged onto the freshly laid industrial carpet. A loud thud sent the door swinging open.

A slim brunette with short, styled hair stumbled into the room along with the door. Recovering herself, she closed the door and walked over to Tom.

“Well, I’m here. No need to stop what you’re doing.”

“Thanks Mary,” mumbled Tom as he continued with his work. “How are yah hon?”

“Well, since you asked, I’m a little flustered right now.”

“Oh?”

“Didn’t you see how I practically had to throw myself at the door just to walk in here? Do you expect your customers to body slam themselves against the door every time they want to com in?”

“It’s fine Mary. You’ve gust had a hard time because you wear those impractical heels. What are they, two, three inches high?”

“Wait, you’re blaming the door on my high heels?”

“People in Vermont wear clogs, Birken Stocks, and hiking boots. They don’t get so uptight about pushing a door open because they have good balance.”

“Tom, I’m not wearing clogs with my new business suit from Jones of New York. Just fix the door.”

“OK, you win,” sighed Tom. “I’ll get to it.” Tom furiously scrubbed away at the same chair that had been the center of his attention since long before Mary stumbled in.

“When?”

“I don’t know Mary. Before I open this Saturday.”

“Do you realize that your menu isn’t up, there are labels on most of these cheap chairs, and you have an entire corner of the store filled up with Aunt Emmie’s junk?”

“Antiques,” cut in Tom. Keep her on the antiques, she can dig into that he thought. Just don’t mention the art.”

“Forget them, my point is you don’t look very prepared for business. Do you even have an artist lined up for your gallery?”

Shoot.

We pick up with Chuck and Melinda at the Chamber of Commerce Office:

Looking up from the empty glass, Melinda raised her voice so Chuck could hear her in the next office over, “How about we go out for a drink once we close up? I’ll pick up dinner after that.”

“I don’t know Mel, I get tired of sipping overpriced drinks at dimly lit bars.”

“We could stop by the Chinese place. They have spotlights all over the bar.”

“Right, and smell that nasty raw fish,” said Chuck.

“Alright,” replied Melinda, “No bar tonight. I can’t wait until that café opens in town. Maybe I can at least drag you there.”

“Oh, the one run by the flatlander,” said Chuck with a snicker.

“At least he’s got a nice location.”

“Look, he doesn’t understand Vermont, not to mention the people of Chiselville. He’ll be lucky to make a nickel off the place. I give him 9 months.”

“Oh Chuck, don’t say that.”

“Alright, alright, I give him a year and my best wishes that he has a lot of cash in the bank or a rich, childless uncle on life support.”