A Time to Grow

Consistent, scheduled writing is the best way to improve your fiction craft.  This is my view and I’m sticking to it.  And anyone who’s ever attended one of my classes knows what a stickler I am for hammering this regimen into a writer’s head.  Still, in accordance with that other directive I so often share, all the fiction craft rules should—at some point—be put aside so you can hunker down on the unique project you’re engaged in . . . and this one is no exception.  So, work every day until you can’t? Precisely.

Now if I’m being honest with myself (and not just lazy), I always find a natural point at which I need some space from a manuscript in order to regain perspective and a fresh point of view.  Often I’ve still got to slug through a ton of work after this point (just like with any job), but I’ll double-down on the hours to get to the break point as quickly as possible.

With my current novel-in-progress, this is precisely where I am.  And already I can see the powerful affect of a little laissez-faire.  This is a time to grab some new material on the research topics imperative to the novel, read some excellent novels, catch up on the business end of things, and get out and have some new experiences to enrich your writing.  Without trying, I’ve amassed lots of practical notes about edits to insert when the time comes, and sure, at the five day mark, I’ve gone into the manuscript and read some bits to gauge my reaction—but no major tinkering allowed.

So why is this so important?  Because the truth is, the final edit next on the schedule (before your copy and proofing passes), is often where all the glossing, plot thread tying, and final character-illuminating action is whittled into your existing blob—turning it into more of a figurine.  Not to mix metaphors, but I like to look at a novel as a rag quilt.  Random scraps from all over—your life, your travels, the people you know, read about, want to know, don’t want to know—get woven onto a blank fabric, and though you don’t know exactly how it will all end up, you get to admire the way certain bits look with other bits, this in turn gives you an idea of something you might do in another spot, and after implementing this scrap of inspiration, you realize the best scheme is actually something completely different than you’d vaguely had in mind.   Then you glimpse it; there is a pattern!, which gets you thrilled, digging like a detective to unearth a way of looking at things that no one else could come up with.  But the problem is, it can’t just be a pretty pattern without a significant meaning, without an engaging element that draws reader attention and keeps it there.

So you must research.  You must become expert and gather these bits of knowledge and experience so seemingly random you might be likened t

o that MIT mathematician in A Beautiful Mind, and then you must place them in a meaningful pattern that authenticates your story so the reader is hooked.  At this point, while everything is really coming together in a thrilling way to you, the truth is, on the page, it often doesn’t look like much.  Your husband asks, “Is it good?” and you just smile and nod because the truth is, it will be, but if he asked to read it today you would probably cry.

Though you can’t always tell in the midst of it, this is all part of the process—the most crucial perhaps.  Just the way you must yank everything out of your closet to organize the contents, and then look around realizing it looks worse than where you began, you know you couldn’t reach your end goal without getting to the bottom of things to see what you’ve got.

But don’t be a hero!  At this point, you should Step Away From The Mess.  Go out to lunch, or to the gym, regain your energy, buy some nifty storage contraptions, and most importantly—put some space between you and ‘the project’.

When you come back, via the same magic that transforms Shrinky Dinks and turns tomatoes red, it’s suddenly clear isn’t it—which pieces you should donate to Goodwill, and how best to store your shoes, and that you should stow your winter wardrobe under your bed with one of those As Seen on TV vacuum bag devices until the weather turns again?  The truth behind it all—the writing, the closet-clearing, and yes, even the Shrinky Dinks and tomatoes—is that it isn’t magic, it’s just part of the process.