Asking “So What?” In Your Writing
For the second time in three months, I’ve found myself on page fifty of a work-in-progress and already fatigued by the story and characters. (For those who measure by word count, fifty pages = about 12,000 words.) I fought for every one of those pages as you might remember from my two-pages-a-day regimen. And now I’ll probably walk away from 100 pages of work.
It’s not that I can’t write whole novels.
I have two completed ones on my hard-drive. But just like I NOW understand why those completed novels I spent 2.5 years writing are mediocre, I can already sense that these new novels are going in the same direction. The “lack of specialness” is all too familiar. The characters seem unremarkable. In hindsight, even my outlines lack sufficient conflict and tension. Every few paragraphs I keep asking myself the worst question a writer and especially a reader can ask about a story: So what?
Now I’m left with a decision.
#1. Attempt to infuse one or both concepts with new life, new structure, and more compelling conflicts. #2. Start over with something different. I’m leaning towards the second option. Although all I have is a kernel of an idea. Half a kernel, really, or less.
Some may wonder why #2 and not #1, especially when getting those 100 pages was such a chore. Listen, I understand why some would say to rework what I already have, including the outlines and character sketches. That time I spent writing two entire novels was not wasted. I learned invaluable lessons from the process, and I’m glad I forced myself to finish both books, revise them countless times, and even go through the tortured process of sending one of them out into the query world. When all was said and done, there were several agents interested in reading yet another revised version of that book, but after a certain point, I knew there was nothing else I could do to make the story and characters shine, nothing I could do to keep the reader from asking so what.
I cut my losses and moved on, taking a break from novels for almost a year.
I worked on short stories and got most of them published (some are forthcoming) until I reached the point when I desired something meaty again. I wanted 300+ pages to play with, not ten. That’s when I dove into every craft book out there. I brainstormed, wrote outlines, character sketches, and eventually stopped messing around. I’m still yearning for those 300+ pages to revise, mold, and improve. But I want to love the ideas I’m working with.
Back To Square One
And that’s why I’m considering going back to square one. Am I crazy not to wrangle those two “finished” books or at least the two fifty-page ones into something better? Maybe. But wouldn’t it be refreshing if I could re-frame this period in my writing life as a playful time? Instead of wishing it away, I’d love to relish these days, months, and even decade or two when nobody is waiting for me produce. I should experiment with new ideas and characters, not settle for ho-hum ones. I’d rather publish something fantastic in twenty years than something good-enough in five.
I’m in this for the long-haul, people. I don’t expect first drafts or even seventh ones to ever feel easy. But I need to maintain some excitement for the ideas and characters I’m working with. Otherwise, what’s the point? Otherwise . . . so what?
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67 Responses
I’ve been here before, too, Nina. It’s heart-breaking to give up on something, but if you’re feeling that “eh” about the story, I’d put in a drawer. Seal the file, so the speak–but don’t get rid of it. You may come back to it in 6 months or a year and see something there you don’t see now. It’s happened to me a number of times!! I do wish we could run our ideas through a machine and get a “yes” or a “no” before we invested so much time. It’s hard to know what ideas will really pan out. Good luck–whatever you decide.
Oh yes! I’d love a machine like that. I think I’m developing a sense of the “yes” or “no.” Or at least I’m trying to. As for throwing things away–NEVER. I keep most things I write. At the very least they could make stories one day.
When people talk about the first draft as a draft of excitement and discovery and writing so fast your fingers fall off — I firmly believe this is all a myth or a cover.
I fucking hate first drafts. Hate them. HATE.
It’s pain for me to finish them. Physical pain.
In fact, 90% of my first drafts never get finished. I’ve got an idea for a novel I’m tossing around that I’ve put off until November when I hope to write it so fast my fingers fall off.
So. I have no answers. ::hugs::
Lisa–we need a virtual support group. I’m so jealous of people are can’t wait to get back to their manuscripts. I’m hoping to get to that point one day, although I know it’ll always be “work” no matter what.
Ugh. My heart aches for you to let go of those 50 pages, BUT I totally ‘get’ why you’re doing it. You have to love your new story, its characters, the plot – all of its parts. REALLY love it. After all, you will be spending so much time with them. I love your positive outlook about seeing the future as “playful” time vs. “starting over time.” It’s hard to know when to walk away, isn’t it? On my first novel, after a dozen agent requests (and ultimate rejections), I decided to walk away and start with something new. It was THE best decision. Like you, I was able to look back at the valuable learning lessons on that first book (and to come away with some ideas of how I might actually revive it). Best of luck! And have fun!
Melissa, I like hearing I’m not the only one to walk away after some query success. Some people believe in going forward until 100 rejections. I knew I didn’t believe in my book enough to go that far. The ones who keeping pushing forward must have real faith in the quality of their idea and their “product.”
Both Nina and Lisa: I think I’m too young to be your mothers, so I’ll say it like a friend. If you peter out after so few pages … if in fact 90% of your first drafts never get finished … you don’t have an idea for a novel … you have a story idea or a blog post … you might use those discarded drafts for flash fiction or other short stories.
The long haul is not a fallen woman, she is not playing with your hearts to drop you in the end. The long haul is a story that actually formulates from beginning to middle to end at once. That you might go back and revise or change them is what people do. But I don’t think the central idea of the story should change or you never had the idea in the first place.
SON … could not have become a novel of the girl who lost the kids, the off-beat mother-in-law or any other long story, plotted, arched or however planned. It was so self-contained it didn’t need another comma, verb, adverb or sentence to finish it. When you have an idea for a novel fit that neatly into your head … write until your fingers get sore …
I can’t believe I’m doing what I would tell another writer to shut up about. Never give advice. Who do you think you are anyway? Me? I’m another struggling writer trying to keep you from being hurt.
Let the idea perculate, like mulch in the yard … it needs to ferment with all those food droppings and grass clippings … it needs to take on a life of its own … and when its been growing strange organisms or yeast … dip into the dark, rich goo and fertilize your pages with the stuff that makes both flowers and vegies grow. Or you could tell me to mind my own 🙂
I love this! And I so appreciate YOUR appreciation for “Son.” Yes—what I WANT is a novel idea that deserves 300+ pages. And that’s what’s missing in what I’m working on now. There’s too much going on for a short story, but not enough that I care about for an entire novel. I thought there was in the planning stages, but as I’m seeing things play out, there just isn’t. Anyway, thanks for your thoughts here. All good stuff! And yes, you’re too young to be my mother!
After being down the same road myself, I’m with Amy and I would add them to the drawer. Very frustrating. (p.s. You were the first one to encourage me when I started blogging, so here’s my encouragement to you: yes, relish this time, don’t wish it away! Your short stories have had good success (that’s awesome!); and so has your blog (we all love it!); and eventually a book (I’m certain)! Two pages at a time!)
Julia–you’re so sweet! I don’t remember being the first one to encourage you on the blog. In my mind you were up and running swiftly by the time I found you. No???
Oh boy, I know how it goes. I’ve tried it both ways — leaving the 100 pages behind or forcing myself to continue on to a complete first draft — and have never regretted leaving them behind. With every book there comes a time when my energy flags because the book isn’t as perfect on paper (or onscreen) as it is in my head. But I can almost always work through that because the book stays on my mind, and I keep puzzling over it. On the books that flopped at 100 pages, I didn’t want to puzzle anymore. Whatever you do, nothing’s forever, and you can always go back! Good luck!
Yes!!! That’s EXACTLY how I feel. I don’t want to puzzle over these characters anymore. Even though I only have 50 pages of each story, I spent months planning the stories out so I’ve been hanging with these people too long already. If I’m uninspired by them and their “situations” then how would the reader feel? Also, you’re too sweet to be not only reading my blog post but commenting on it on YOUR DEBUT DAY!!!! Everyone–run out and buy Jael McHenry’s THE KITCHEN DAUGHTER. It’s my book-a-week challenge pick for Friday.
(You are so sweet, Nina. Yesterday was indeed a heck of a day!)
“I’d rather publish something fantastic in twenty years than something good-enough in five.” This is SO true.
I really admire your courage — I’ve been there, too, and I know it’s not easy! My first few drafts weren’t so much drafts as they were entire rewrites, which meant I ended up writing a few hundred pages that didn’t make it into the final ms. But I realize now that I needed to get through them to get to the real story. No writing is ever wasted; each word is a learning experience.
Thank you, Natalia! And totally off the subject, Natalia was my “Spanish” name all through middle school and high school. (They made us take names with the same letter. Did all schools do the name change thing?) Anyway, I LOVED the name. It’s so pretty!!! I don’t know if you were reading my blog a few months ago, but I wrote about my obsession with names–it’s a favorite subject.
Thanks, Nina. I’d love to read that post! I have a hard time with names in my stories. I come from a family of very unique names, so it’s hard for me to name a character John or Bob, even though they’re perfectly good names.
My school didn’t make us take new names, but my French teacher did insist on calling me Natalie all year (with a French accent, of course!).
Here it is! https://ninabadzin.com/2011/01/07/please-let-me-name-your-baby/
When you figure this out, let me know. I haven’t attempted a novel yet, but I find that when I have very little time to devote to something like this, I can very easily get sidetracked and bored with my idea. From everything I’ve heard, any writing is good, even when it doesn’t add up to something. But who wants to waste so much time? That’s why I haven’t gone for it yet, I suspect.
Hi Jana! I agree with anyone who’s said there’s no such thing as wasted pages, wasted words, wasted time. I’ve learned so much from each story, each character, etc. It’s a lot of learning what NOT to do, but you have to learn somehow!
This blog post would make a good Blues song! ; )
Maybe–before you trash it all–you need else someone to read what you’ve got so far and see if they say “so what.” Maybe a good brainstorming session is all you need to kick energy back into your story???
Oh, I like Anne’s answer, too. Something to think about.
I know what you’re thinking, Anne. I would never put you through that!
I’m late to the game, but first of all — go you, Nina, with sticking to your writing two pages every day! Even if you’re not exactly loving what you’ve produced. You’ve probably made a decision on these two 50 pagers already, but if you are still having doubts and want someone to lay eyes on them, let me know!
Nina, I have been there, too, and there are literally hundreds of pages of proof in my drawer. I think you have to trust your gut. Since you’ve finished two novels previously, you know that it’s not a case of a writer not being able to commit. You have it in you. Right now, it seems you are a goddess with the short story writing, and if that half of a kernel novel idea grows…go with it! Also, like Jael said, you can always go back to the ones you’ve set aside. Best wishes to you, and congratulations on all of your short story successes!
Thanks, Amanda! And did you notice I switched to vigilance for the blog theme? (I hope you don’t mind! Our headers were already similar before.) I couldn’t stand how big my header was in Duster. And of course whenever there’s a new theme I want to use it–not that vigilance is new.
Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!!!!
Thanks, NanC. I knew you’d support me on this one. 😉
I tend to have a bad habit of comparing all my life’s lessons to bad relationships. So what if you were just flirting with these 50 pages for a while? Maybe you’ll come back to them later when they have more to offer you. In the meantime, you’ve likely learned more from your experience than you’re aware of right now. So maybe it’s time to set this little piece of your heart aside and go search for something that’s a better fit for you in the long-run.
Good luck!
That’s a cute analogy, Tamara. I like it!
I like Anne’s idea, too.
But sadly, this happens. I can’t tell you how many times it’s happened to me. In fact, when I was struggling with a novel that was a slog like that, I had a dream, in which Dylan Thomas appeared to me and picked an apple from a tree.
“See how easily it came off,” he said. “That’s because it’s ripe. If you have to work at it, it’s not ripe, and it will only make you sick.”
One of the most vivid dreams I’ve ever had. I let the book go. I don’t know if it will ever get ripe, but what the dream meant to me is–if it’s too hard to write, that means it’s not going to work.
What an incredible dream! Seriously–that advice is perfectly stated too. You’ve got one helpful dream life. Wow.
I tend to dislike most of my writing. That includes many posts and stories that people love. I mention this only in context of thinking that perhaps you are being harder on yourself than you need to be.
It is possible that you have more than you recognize.
I admire you and I completely understand how sometimes it is just better to scrap everything and start over. Sometimes things are just not worth “fixing”. Hope it all works out
Thank you Barbara!
And it could be that what will fix them, if they are fixed, is not so much a what as a who. I know that for me, my crit partner has made a big difference for finishing things and keeping them un-meh. Maybe someone will show up who will help you see your work in new ways too.
Meanwhile, learning more? Playing? NEVER a bad idea. 🙂
Thank you! I’m so lucky to have two wonderful writers in town who are great brainstorming partners. I’m going to take my new kernel to them actually.
I am NOT a writer, but I have so much appreciation and respect for what you are writing about in this post. i remember a film directing class I took in undergrad when the professor said, you have to fall out of love with your shots, meaning it may be a great shot but have nothing to do with the story you are telling. I cannot tell you how often this has come up in my life since, in writing a paper, and certainly while choreographing…great movement, great phrase, but…doesn’t belong in this piece. Then of course are the pieces you make that just need to stay in the studio and those are super hard to swallow. You have a great attitude about process and i honestly think that’s where we all have to be, in the process.
Yup–writers call this “killing your darlings.” 🙂
This is a great post, Nina. Nothing is wasted: I’ve heard writing teachers say that so many times that I think it must be true. And I don’t think it’s only in terms of honing your craft, either; what/how you write, think, and revise now has to inform what/how you write in years to come.
On the other hand, I remember reading Aimee Bender’s comment about only one in ten stories coming to fruition for her — which means that for every successful story of hers, she has many more half-finished and discarded ones. It gives me a kind of perverse comfort to hear that well-regarded, well-published writers struggle too. It is a hard and slow process to write a good story, never mind a good novel!
On the third hand, what about having a writer friend take a look at your draft? My writers group almost always have suggestions I never would have thought of. 🙂
Sarah
I hadn’t heard that Bender quote. And it IS a perverse comfort!
I know nothing about this process, but I’m a big believer in going with your gut. So i say if you want to start over, that’s the best option for you. Good luck!
Thanks Liz!!
You’re not crazy at all, Nina. I know the exact pickle you’re in (except that instead of a hundred pages, mine are usually about 50-60. 😛 ). Sometimes you have to let go and refresh the brain before you can get something out that YOU actually give a care about. YOU have to care way before your readers do. If the story doesn’t grip the author, who can it grip?
I say go for the fresh idea. Just as long as you don’t throw out the old stories; you may be able to rescue them later after all. 🙂
Thanks Veronika! And I definitely don’t literally throw anything away. I work too hard for each of those pages.
I didn’t read all the comments above (sorry!) but I want to say I get it. Sometimes we’re entrenched in the “meh” and it’s better to start over than to try to teach an old manuscript new tricks. Doesn’t mean you can’t salvage a great scene or idea or bit of dialogue. Doesn’t mean you can’t pluck a character or setting. It does mean you have learned a lot about what you don’t want to do. And that makes it worth it.
You go girlfriend!!
<3
Amy
Nina, I SO feel you! I think any author who’s honest does. And I love your postitive outlook. Yes, let this past few years be camp firefly for your writing, because one day soon you’ll find yourself in bootcamp, when you don’t have the benefit of scrapping an idea and starting anew since you’ll be writing to deadlines. Learn and have fun while you’re doing it! Good luck w/the kernling WIP. 😉 I have a good feeling about it.
Nina, I have just recently discovered your blog – what a treat! It was recommended by “the shark,” aka Janet Reid, literary agent extraordinaire. That by itself deserves accolades 🙂 I really love your writing and I love that you have a website even without a published novel yet. I’m a writer working on my second novel, the first in the query stage with literary agents, and am using your blog as inspiration and motivation. This writing life is not easy. With four kids, I am writing in the early mornings and late at night. No American Idol for me. Reading about you doing the same is so good for me to hear. Keep writing, even if it’s just for us 🙂 You are GOOD.
What an AMAZING comment to open. Thank you so much, Amy!
No question, Nina, your thinking on this whole crazy writing life is, dare I summarize with one word – “refreshing and spot-on.” (Okay, more then one word.) As someone who took twenty years to get my 1st novel out into the world, I have enormous respect for the process that got me there. “The Process” being the ongoing and necessary learning experience, as well as the ability to keep standing despite oftentimes hammering blows.
My early drafts were crap, although I wasn’t so much seeing it then. No question it was a combo of faith, determination, and an insatiable hunger to learn what I was doing wrong that kept me at the keyboard, but even then, I don’t believe I would’ve had the mental strength to persevere if I wasn’t madly in love with my characters and their story.
Yes, set your already completed pages – just in case – and start with something new. You’ll know you have the right story when it settles into your writer’s brain and refuses to leave.
Thank you so much for that Barbara. By the way, are you Twitter???
I am there with you! I am working on my first YA historical fiction novel. Almost finished, I find myself saying, “Do I even care about these characters?” and “What is it that I’m trying to say?” I do think I am going to continue plugging away because the part in history I am writing about is too important for me to leave alone, but most days, I feel like giving up and starting something new and exciting.
Uh-oh . . . that’s a dangerous question to be answering. Exactly like “So what?”
Dear Nina, I’ve read some of the comments but not all–I’m rushing this morning, so forgive me if someone else has said this. What caught my attention in your post (to which I can absolutely relate) is that you reach the same point in your drafts when you decide they don’t shine (I don’t want to sound like I’m psychoanalyzing you, but I know I am. I’m just trying to be helpful…). It is either fifty or so pages, or a point in your relationship with your characters. I wonder what that stopping point is all about? I wonder if, instead of dumping one of your drafts just yet,it might be fruitful to see if there is some obstacle, some brick wall or scary hand that reaches out and pulls you back, a pitfall that has as its diabolical mission, grinding your story to halt before it can fully flower. It may have nothing to do with your story or characters, or your ability to tell a story in novel form. Writing demands so much of us, but above all, I believe, courage. I know that on those occasions (too few) when my writing has taken a leap forward, it is because something was released in me and I did something outrageous that I was too timid–whether I was conscious of it or not–to do before. Perhaps it there was a moment when I trusted myself more, was willing to go to a new edge, or things I had learned finally found some traction. It is so hard to look inside and see the workings of our writing self. But I think sometimes patterns are messages from the psyche. Look at this they seem to say, this stopping point has some valuable information for you that merely rereading your work won’t reveal. I don’t know, just a thought. I say this from my own experience wrestling with a novel over the years. I choose novels because the short form eludes me. My stories wander off into infinity rather than capture a moment. Perhaps when I have the courage to try them again, you can help me with my block. Thank you, Nina, for revealing this hard writing place.
Helen,
I appreciate this thoughtful comment so much. I think you are probably on to something. But more than these two books being worth exploring more, I think from the get go I need to be coming up with concepts with larger and deeper possibilities. I think in general I’ve been thinking too small, too close to my own life, which is why when I get to a certain I can already see that there’s not enough to carry all the way to 300+ pages. But you’re for sure right there’s a pattern here. I’m so glad you commented. And I hope you’ll keep coming back!
(Apologies for any repetition in my comment. I have wanted to respond to the post, but haven’t had time to read all the other comments.)
‘Am I crazy not to wrangle those two “finished” books or at least the two fifty-page ones into something better?’
I say NAY, NAY to this, Nina. I’ve been thinking about your post for a couple of days now. As someone who abandoned 100+ pages of my last work-in-progress for my current work-in-progress, I have to say, the questions I ask to decide whether or not a given piece of writing is worth it are: Am I excited about it? Am I enlivened by the prospect of returning to the page?
If the answers are no, if I am not challenged by the process, then I know the project is dead in the proverbial water.
It’s hard for me to leave a work-in-progress in the middle of it. It feels like failure. And like giving up. And in the most immediate sense, it is, indeed, both. However, it’s neither a failure nor a giving up on the larger goal of finding the *right* story to tell. When I was writing stories, I gave up on so, so many of them because I knew they didn’t work. That was also hard and painful, but an inevitable part of the writing process, as I saw it. Not every idea works. But something about the time and page commitment that goes into novel writing makes the giving up process harder.
But I have no regrets about giving up projects that have no life left in them. In my experience, it’s simple as this: you have to search for the story that most energizes you.
All that said — there is also a dangerous temptation to think the NEXT project will always be your great one. I have to make sure when I’m giving up a project it’s not just that I’ve gotten to a hard point or unwittingly created a dead end in my plot or am needing to fundamentally rethink some aspect of the story. Those are all super annoying and help fuel the fantasy that if I just abandon this mess, the next idea will be easier/better/problem-free.
But I don’t think that’s what you’re talking about here. I think what you’re talking about is no longer being inspired by your own story. To me that means it’s high time to move on.
And not to be prescriptive, as I know every writer’s process wildly varies, but I find outlines to be antithetical to sustaining inspiration. Do you ever think about just taking the leap and diving into the next idea sans outline?
This was such an insightful comment, Miriam, and I knew it would be. I’m especially aware of this issue for me: “there is also a dangerous temptation to think the NEXT project will always be your great one.” Thank you for your two cents and adding so much to the conversation.
I understand how you can be so divided between decisions of starting over or starting new. Especially after getting so far into the project. I started over my story completely, and I might do so again. *pounds head on table* I think it comes down to how much the initial idea tugs at your mind and heart. I still want to write my story, so I’ll keep at it till I figure out the best way. Best of luck to you as make tough decisions! Happy writing!
Thanks Jess! Yes, mind AND heart matter, think. Welcome to the blog, too!
I’m here right now. Just finished my 300 page book draft this winter. It’s good. It’s fine. But does it have the potential to be GREAT?
It’s so tempting to cut out and start something new, but I do feel like this “shitty first draft” is the beginning of every book and I can’t run from it. I’m going to make myself revise and improve until I see it through, because I think for me that is where the learning will really come in.
You are amazing Nina. Congratulations on all your publishing success!
My suggestion is to find a writing mentor. Somebody that can look at your work and give you solid feedback (my plug for an MFA program I guess). A writer friend, a former professor, even someone who loves to read and can recognize the strengths and weaknesses in your writing. Best of luck!
I’m a classic for starting and never finishing. I have unfinished short stories, and many of them. How hard is it to finish a short story, I ask ye? They are “short” by their very nature!
But I agree that you have to be excited, you have to be having fun, or itching to write that thing–not 100% of the time, but often. So I don’t blame you.
However, nothing is ever wasted. Nothing. Not even those rotten diary entries I wrote in high school. They are the compost from which a wee little crocus one day grows.
Jenny- I’m stuck on two stories I’m loving because I don’t know how to end them. I find the end of a short story is especially important to nail. I think it’s the make or break in terms of acceptance by a lit mag. SIGH.