Should I Rewrite My Novel?
With my second novel due for release in just a few more weeks, I’ve been contemplating a question lately that I think a lot of new writers eventually bump into:
Should I go back and rewrite my first novel?
Not because it’s “bad.” Not because I’m embarrassed by it. But because I can feel the gap between who I was when I wrote it… and who I am on the page now.
My debut novel, The Light Between Us, was written in a very particular voice. I leaned into flowery, arty metaphors—the kind you can practically hear being underlined. At the time, it felt right. The two main characters, Sean and Linda, are creative people: he’s a photographer, she’s an artist. Their world is colour, texture, light, shadow, mood. It made sense (to me, anyway) that the language would reflect that—like the narration was holding a paintbrush in one hand and a camera in the other.
And honestly? I still love parts of it for that reason. There are lines in there that feel like me at that point in time—trying things, pushing at language, seeing how much emotion I could fit into a paragraph without it spilling off the edge.
But then I received a review that stuck with me. Not in a dramatic, doom-and-gloom way. Just… in a useful way.
They said they found the style difficult to get used to at first. Too metaphor-heavy, too “arty.” But once they settled into it, they very much enjoyed the story.
Now, I’m not here to whine about reviews. I actually think that’s a fair comment. And if anything, it gave me a clearer picture of what my book is doing: it asks the reader to adjust to the voice before it gives them the full emotional payoff. Some readers will love that. Some readers will bounce off it. And neither reaction is wrong.
The complication is this: since publishing The Light Between Us, I’ve written and released two short stories, and I’ve got my second novel, Tracks in Time, on the way. And the big difference?
My newer work is far more conversational.
Less metaphor. More natural rhythm. More “come with me” and less “stand back and admire the phrasing.” It still has emotion (if anything, I think it has more), but it’s delivered in a way that’s clearer and closer to how people actually think and speak.
And now, looking back at my first novel, I can feel that shift like a seam.
It’s a strange thing, growing into your own voice. You don’t notice it happening day-to-day. You just write the next scene, then the next, then another. You learn what you enjoy, what you avoid, what you overdo, what you’re finally brave enough to say plainly. And then one day you open your earlier work and go:
Oh. That’s who I was then.
So… should I revisit The Light Between Us?
Here’s the honest answer: I don’t know yet. But I’m thinking about it in a new way.
Because I used to think rewriting meant one of two things:
Fixing something that’s broken, or
Polishing something until it shines.
But maybe there’s a third reason:
Making a book more accessible to the readers who would love it—if they could get to the heart of it sooner.
That review made me realise something important: the story itself isn’t the issue. The connection is there. The characters land. The emotion works. The reader did enjoy it once they got used to the voice.
So the question becomes: do I want to ask readers to do that work?
Because voice is a choice, and there’s nothing wrong with a book having a strong flavour. But there’s also something to be said for clarity. For letting the emotion come through without dressing it up in metaphor until it’s wearing three coats and a hat.
The thing is, I’m still proud of that book. It’s my first full novel. I finished it. I published it. I made something real. And for a new writer, that’s no small thing.
But I’m also not the same writer anymore.
And maybe that’s the real question hiding underneath this one:
Do I leave my debut as a snapshot of who I was… or do I update it to reflect who I am now?
Right now, I’m leaning towards a middle ground.
Not a full rewrite. Not a complete overhaul that turns it into a different book. More like a careful revisit: trimming where the metaphors pile up, smoothing sentences that draw attention to themselves, sharpening clarity without stripping the story of its artistic heart.
A version that still feels like The Light Between Us… just with a slightly clearer path into it.
So I’m putting it out there—not as a decision, but as a thought in progress.
If you’ve read The Light Between Us, I’d genuinely love to know:
Did the style work for you? Did it take time to settle into? Did it add something… or get in the way?
And if you’re a writer, I’d love to know this too:
Have you ever gone back and rewritten earlier work after finding your voice? Did it feel like growth… or like erasing your past?
For now, I’m going to keep writing forward. Tracks in Time is on its way, and I’m excited for it—because it feels closer to the voice I want to live in long-term. But I can’t pretend I’m not looking back at my debut with a pen hovering in the air.
Not out of regret.
Just out of curiosity.
And maybe—just maybe—out of love for the story, and the readers who might be waiting on the other side of those metaphors.
Tracks in Time is available for pre-order (Kindle) on Amazon now, and is releases on both Kindle and in Paperback on 2nd February 2026
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0GBYVP9JD
