One thing that I haven’t done here on this blog as yet is write about my writing. I do keep notes for myself on what’s happening in the plotting process and how I’m feeling about the way my projects are shaping up, but I don’t share these publicly as they’re mostly self-indulgent, and they would also be major spoilers in the event that my novels are published for public consumption.
In recent years, I have been trying to do less of this type of journaling for a number of reasons. For one thing, having journaled/blogged for decades, this is the easiest type of writing for me to do. It helps my very poor memory to record my thoughts in this way, but it doesn’t do anything to challenge me as a writer anymore. Another reason is that the more time I spend “writing about writing”, the less time I’m actually working in my novel, which is where I need to keep my focus.
But I’m going to break from tradition briefly for this post because there’s something that hasn’t been working in my manuscript in terms of the overall thrust of the story…and I think I have it figured out now.
But…fixing it is going to mean making some fundamental changes to the storytelling approach I’ve taken. And it’s frankly terrifying.
When you think you have your manuscript figured out but there is a miss somewhere in the engine of the thing that's keeping it from firing on all cylinders...
And then a sudden inspiration...
That explosive key ingredient that will make it sing reveals itself...
I thought I knew what to expect from this story, but that was a naive perspective.
It's a scary position to find myself in...one that vaporizes any confidence I had in what I've produced already and is asking me to dig deep.
I'm staring down the barrel of a huge re-write that will probably require more skill than I possess to execute.
It's a project I really believe in, and it deserves everything I have to give it.
It's already good. But can it be great?
Am I good enough to make it great?
[from a discussion with a writer’s group I participate in]
The big revelation that I was hinting at in this discussion is that the story isn’t going to work if I rely solely on the very close third person point of view of Lena. It might have worked as I’d originally plotted it, if I’d have been satisfied with leaving the main antagonist as simply a Central Casting “billionaire playboy” one-dimensional brooding piece of shit.
But the thing that always happens did indeed, eventually, happen. I got to know my character. He just doesn’t show up on Page 50 and say the things I need him to say to give Lena the motivation to tick off set pieces in my outlined scenes. To write him, I had to find his voice. And to find his voice, I did the same thing I do with all of my characters - I asked myself where he’d come from and where he was going.
And a story emerged that was at least as compelling as what Lena has to say for herself.