A Moving Story

Revision is a messy business. Then again, so is moving a house.

This is our family cottage undergoing a significant revision. In 2005, we moved the cottage to a new location after twenty-three years in this location on Whalehead Beach, NC. The area around the cottage had become cluttered with houses more akin to mini-hotels, and our little shack could no longer compete in the rental market. Plus, the land it sat on was worth ten times the value of the house. My sister and I purchased a lot several miles north in Swan Beach, an area only accessible with a four-wheel drive vehicle, and our family sold the land. We were going to a new place, a beach where the wild horses roamed, the roads were unpaved, and a new chapter could begin.

But not before a messy revision. This picture shows the house on a flatbed truck, the stilts had been chopped away, the house lowered, the electric and plumbing disconnected, the ground rutted with tire tracks, the mud-covered house mover pausing before the day-long journey, and the morning sun barely dawning. The Matiko Brothers, the same movers who had relocated the Hatteras lighthouse years before, told us not to worry about the contents of the house, dishes in the cabinets, the pictures on the walls. They would all arrive safely. We didn’t believe them. We placed a battery upright on the countertop to test their theory and to see how much jostling took place in the seven mile journey. When we arrived, the battery had barely moved.

The best part of the whole experience was the looks on the faces of the people we passed on the beach at low tide. A tractor trailer hauling a house with a parade of people following was not a sight seen every day. One guy put down his beer and shook his head as if he’d had too much now that he was hallucinating houses coming down the beach!

Once the house was hauled to its new location, it was set on stacks of Jenga blocks (at least that’s what they appeared to be) to allow the house to “settle.” Once settled, the plumbing, electrical, and HVAC systems were reattached.

Some writers love revision, saying that’s where the real writing lives. I’m warming up to it. I was encouraged by reading Benjamin Percy’s perspective on revision as renovation in his book Thrill Me: Essays on Fiction. He dedicates an entire chapter to comparing how his revision style is similar to the renovation of his house.

So, there’s tinkering and then there’s revision. The following are tips I keep in mind when revision feels as daunting as moving a house.

1. Set a goal. Get the house safely up the beach. Move a chapter, re-order the scene, re-write a paragraph. Throw out a whole chapter? It doesn’t have to be momentous goal, but it should be definitive and time appropriate. When I don’t set a goal, I just roam and tinker with little result.
2. Choose: Mechanical or Aesthetics. Today will be focused on reattaching the plumbing; tomorrow, choosing paint color. Sometimes the determining factor is my mood, other times necessity. Either way, it’s usually a choice for the entire writing session. One or the other.
3. Create a Scrap Pile. The scraps can be valuable. Just don’t obsess over them. Find a safe place to pile them. A file, a strike-through font. Percy calls his pile the Cemetery Folder. I call mine the Scrap Heap. I’ve gone back for an item or two but never as much as I think I will at the time. It’s a nice psychological trick to letting go.
4. Allow for Settling. The house had to settle. For several months, we waited while the house settled into place. My writing is so much better when I haven’t festered over top of it but have let allowed it to settle into place and into my mind. For someone with a To Do list, this step can be painstakingly difficult. Be patient.
5. Consult the Experts. The Matiko Brothers to the rescue. Sometimes calling in an expert is the answer. I have resorted to the experts on a number of occasions to help me see my writing in a different way, to bring in the heavy equipment to get the job done.
6. Don’t Forget the Gazebo! Someone yelled. A last-minute decision found us hitching the gazebo (Value: $149 in materials; worth: limitless memories) to the back of someone’s truck. Sometimes last-minute decisions are insightful, sometimes silly. Be prepared to decipher the difference.

Sometimes revision is tinkering, but usually, it’s as massive as moving a house.