Revision

"This story doesn't have a happy ending."

I started the morning at my favorite writing spot, the Montague Book Mill. On my drive up, new story ideas blew through my mind like the last of the fall leaves. Alas, I had to tell them all to wait their turn. I promised myself, and a distant editor, that I would finish my revisions by Thanksgiving. Is that soon? Or is it a long way away?

Judging by this morning, soon.

Does anyone really like to revise? It's a quiet little question today. Next week I open up twenty earnest stories written by my favorite eleven and twelve year olds. Some take a stubborn, arms-folded stance that they Are Not Writers. Others clutch their stories with trembling arms, quite certain that anyone yielding a pen will rip through their writing until nothing is left but sad little ribbons of broken words. How do I convince these wonderful students that we will be gentle, that the stories will grow stronger, that revision is fun?

Question:

Is it unethical to tell children that "revision is fun" when revision is not only not fun, but at times miserable and mildly horrendous?

I have been asked (indirectly) to give my (true) story a happy ending. This is the heart of my revisions.

But.

There was no happy ending. The school was closed. The principal was fired. The community descended into profound poverty to a degree that is unparalleled in most of the country. My students from that time, the bright, eager, scrappy children of ten years ago...

Dropped out of school.

Married and divorced before they were old enough to drink.

Committed suicide.

Committed suicide.

I wish, with everything I have, through to my bones, that I could make a few swipes of my pen and give this history a simple, sweet ending. There are no revisions that can make this story better. This story doesn't have a happy ending.

You can't revise the truth.