I summarised each fragment in one sentence. I colour-coded each fragment according to which narrative thread it belonged (jokes, memoir, Manila narrative, Miguel's past, Crispin's various writing, etc). I listed these colour-coded fragments, printed them on card-stock paper, and backed them with one side of Velcro tape. I opened up ten file folders, each pertaining to one of the book's ten chapters, and taped the other side of the Velcro to them. Then I expanded my folding kitchen table, spread the chapter folders out, took my pile of fragments, and went to work. Slowly, I built, fragment by fragment, a narrative arc for each chapter and then a narrative arc for the entire book. I moved things around, experimented with juxtapositions, and made the threads progress in their own chronology to make it easier for the reader. A wonderful side effect of this system is that if a fragment didn't fit or function properly within the book, I simply tossed it out -- something I had a hard time doing when I was reading the fragment as a piece of text I'd spent years labouring over and polishing.
The inspiration for this system, I realise now, came from my years spent as a sub editor for major newspapers. While working on programs like QuarkXPress or InDesign, I used small parts to create a whole page - text boxes for the articles, and boxes for heads, bylines, pictures, captions, photo credits, stand-firsts, pull-quotes, infoboxes, pointers, etc. All these could be moved around to change the shape of the article, of the section, of the page, of the newspaper. Or they could be spiked, replaced, or expanded according to sudden needs. I'm convinced my working this way on the newspaper had a tremendous effect on my creating this system for Ilustrado.
Readers have called Ilustrado literary bricolage. With this system, Ilustrado was literally bricolage.