The Most Chaotic Novel Draft

Writing dilemmas and E-Car disasters

On August 4^th, I closed my 84,000 word Scrivner doc for the first time in six months. I had a fantasy of what I would look like doing this, one I daydreamed about as motivation in the weeks following up to my self made deadline of my third novel draft. In this fantasy, however, I felt much better about things.

I closed my laptop gingerly, a happy little flutter in my stomach as I put my baby to bed. I went on the mini road trip my husband and I had planned to the Jersey Shore, where we sat on the beach all day and went to see Incubus at the Stone Pony at night. All the while, I had my tanned shoulders held back with the secret knowledge that I had completed another novel draft, one that was ready to be fashioned into something beautiful on my next go around in the Fall.

Some of these things happened.

Guess which part didn’t.

It’s this plot that’s the problem. I had been moving at a somewhat steady pace through this rewrite, stopping for a month in April when Write or Die merged with Chill Subs and my brain couldn’t process anything else. But I picked it back up in May—six pretty solid months of writing.  I was nearing the end in July, but I realized that my plot wasn’t holding up. Something bigger, more impactful needed to happen, and I was at a loss as to what that was.  

“How can I not know?” I said to my husband one day, near tears sitting on my office carpet. “It’s been three years, and I still don’t know.”

“You need a break,” he said.

I immediately went into all the reasons why a break was NOT possible for me: I said I would have a complete draft by August 5. I planned it with my writing partner. She has reached the goal already; I’m the one who is behind.

Marty has this way of being very blunt with me, where he tells me in this flat tone what I need to do. (Honestly, it’s infuriating). But he is usually right.

“You need a break,” he said again.  He told me about an artist he read about recently, who would step away from the work when he was trying to solve a problem or understand what he was working on. He would sit down with a ring of keys in his hand, close his eyes and let his mind wander. Usually, he dozed off. The keys sliding from his hand and falling on the floor jarred him awake, and most times, the idea or solution he needed would be there in his now cleared, more focused mind.

I get it, okay?

I know that breaks are good.

I also knew what I had been writing up to these days before this mini breakdown had been utter shit. And not in the “I know this is bad, but I will fix it in revisions” way.

More of “I have lost all passion for this story, and I’m just hammering away at the keyboard in anger.”

So yeah, a break was necessary.

My new plan. I had a closing image in mind that I hadn’t written in the last draft. Before my breakdown, I wanted to have written all that came before this closing image. You know, the book in its entirety. But I decided to pivot.

“I’m just going to write the ending,” I told my writing partner. Then I’m done with this draft.

This draft with a giant hole in the middle.

This draft that is starting in the wrong place.

This draft that has at least 7,000 words in Act 1 that I know needs to get cut.

This draft that has just as many notes about the novel as the novel itself (an exaggeration, but still).

This draft that has my main character running all over the place, from plot point to plot point, but barely relaxing into the small moments that I love to write, that I love to read.

I have been so focused on slogging through this thing, and it shows.  

Chaos has ensued.

I suppose it was fitting that the trip to New Jersey I used as a marker to finish my novel was also much more chaotic than planned.

Marty and I both had car troubles prior to the trip, so we had the brilliant idea of dropping our cars off at the mechanic before heading to Jersey in a rental car. The electric model was far cheaper than the other cars available for rent, and we thought, hey, why not? We hear these things are the future; let’s try it out. A thought we soon heard ringing in our ears when the charging stations were either broken with sun-damaged screens, wouldn’t take our credit card, or not the high-speed models that took 2 hours plus to charge your car. Between hitting traffic in New York and an hour plus detour in Connecticut to plug in the car, our supposed 6 hour trip took more like 8, and we rolled up to the Belmar Inn at 10 pm.  

In the morning, after barely any sleep on a lumpy, sagging mattress, we opened the curtains to a rainy morning. Thankfully the skies cleared around the time our coffee kicked in and the rest of our two days did involve lots of beach time, walking on the boardwalk, and of course, the reason for the trip, the concert. But on the way back, we encountered more E car problems when we couldn’t find a charging station, and we watched the little battery turn red, reaching 1% by the time we rolled up to a charger in front of a Starbucks that was…8 minutes from home.

After driving for 6 hours.

Oh, and that stop we had to make in Rhode Island, walking around in the middle of nowhere to find a restaurant to kill time at, only to come back after an hour to find the car had only charged 12%.  

Maybe we are dumb, we said to each other. Maybe we are actually stupid and should have known all of this.

I’ve said the same thing to myself about this novel draft. Maybe I’m not cut out for it?

But I don’t really believe that. I know I can do this— it’s just the “how” that feels slippery sometimes. Tamar repeatedly told me that I should still be proud of the draft I had created. I still made a deadline. I know so much more about my story now than I did in the last draft.

“I wish we could be celebrating together,” she said. Because she is the sweetest person and most devoted writing partner a person could ask for. I could not do this without her—of that, I’m sure.

So here is the plan. No more novel writing for me for a while. I need this baby to sleep for a few more weeks before I even attempt to wake her.

Here is a little breakdown of my plans in a format I completely stole from Danielle Lazarin’s newsletter (give her full credit here!)

What I’m Doing Now

• Writing a short story- I have had an idea germinating for a few weeks now and recently started exploring it. Yesterday, while on a walk, something about the main character’s backstory was revealed to me in that way where you stop mid-stride, and your eyes bulge a little. I had not seen this character development coming at all. I’m following my excitement and using my writing time to draft this story.  

• Reading- My lovely friend Brittany recommended Jo Ann Beard’s novel, In Zanesville, and I want to cry, it’s so good. I ordered it from the library, but after reading that first scene about the house fire, I immediately bought it so I could sticky tab and highlight the thing to shreds. I also finished The Girls of Corona Del Mar while I was in Jersey, and I found that novel to be wildly unexpected, totally heartbreaking, and an intimate reflection on friendship, motherhood, and the stories we tell ourselves about those we love.  Highly recommend.

What I’ve Learned

• Maybe it’s not the draft that is chaotic; maybe it’s just me.

• I’ve learned a lot about who these characters are and a lot about who they are not. There is one character in particular who has been shape shifting like a damn werewolf throughout the entire draft, and I need to pin him down. I realize he might not be as essential to my main character’s story as I thought. This is scary because it means someone else might be more pivotal instead, which means exploring a kind of desire that feels too icky and personal. (This means I have to write it, doesn’t it?)

What’s Ahead

• When I’m ready to come back to my novel, I plan to print it out and read it. While I’m reading, I will be marking the things that are working. This is going to be all about the positive so that I don’t crumble to the floor again.

• I have some fun research that needs doing (hint: it involves female saints!), and I already have the materials, so it’s just a matter of diving in.

• Compile all my notes into something readable and understandable.

• Outline the plot I have so far (A story, B story, and C story) and see what’s working. I want to get big poster boards, more notecards, and fat Sharpie markers and look like an absolutely insane person while doing this.  

Danielle ends her posts with another category: what I am afraid of. But I don’t have a list. It’s just one thing.

I fear I’ll never get this done. Or rather, this will be the novel I shelved and never did anything with.

But when I have some clarity, and I’m not lying on the floor in tears, I still feel a lot of love and passion for this story. I so desperately want to see it take shape. At this point, that’s all that’s truly on my mind. Of course, I want publication. But this novel is still for me, so I want to see for myself what it can truly be made into. Where my main character will go and all that she will experience (or not experience!) along the way.

She still talks to me, even during this break—even in abandoned parking lots with busted charging stations all over New England. (Maybe especially there?)

And so, I know my work here is far from done.