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Finishing a series mingles satisfaction and pride with a severe sense of “what now?” For nine years, I’ve dwelt within the borders of Caledon, developing a world where I’m very comfortable, thank you. But with Book Ten’s publication, I find myself abruptly deported—cast adrift on an unnamed ship in a thick fog, banned from those shores where I’ve lived for so long. I don’t know where I’m going, and I’m not sure I want to leave. Part of me wants to go flying back to Caledon and write Book Eleven. There’s a lot of fodder for stories in 17 centuries. But it’s time for something new. New can be scary.
So I grasp the rudder and inhale the damp air, forging a path through uncharted seas, listening for voices to guide me to a new world and a new story. And I procrastinate. I need to research literary agencies so I have places to query another manuscript for which I’m seeking traditional publication. I need to write queries and send them. Social media posts? I’m so far behind. My author website needs cosmetic improvements. And my blog! I haven’t posted a blog in forever, and my Play On Words website needs fresh content. Got to figure out something interesting to put in next month’s newsletter. I should develop that new idea I’ve been mulling over… Oh. That’s the one I’m avoiding. Psychologists could tell us many reasons we avoid striking out for unfamiliar territory. I like comfort zones, and characters who’ve become old friends, and settings as familiar as my house. But a new story—that’s fresh places, unknown characters, new everything. Nine years ago, when I started The Rose of Caledon, I had no expectations for it. I just couldn’t get the story out of my head, so I wrote it to tame it. To extinguish it. And it took over my life. Do I fear being devoured again by a force beyond my control? Or am I hoping to be swallowed whole, and this post-publication downtime has made me dread that I can’t replicate the joy of the past nine years? This new idea is taking time, effort, and thought—maybe it sucks. Or it might be amazing. Time to focus on developing the story playing at the edges of my brain. Onward!
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Writers cannot produce quality books alone; they need a set of honest advance readers to help improve the story and a qualified editor to hone and polish the manuscript.
Advance readers are divided into two groups. Alpha readers see the manuscript in the early drafting stages. These readers overlook mechanical errors of spelling, grammar, and punctuation and read a messy story to address structural issues and assess the plot and character arcs. Beta readers get the manuscript much later—after the author has completed several drafts and a few self-editing passes. Beta readers will look for fine detail errors, pointing out jarring language, mechanical mistakes, and spots where slight improvements will tighten the story. Paid editors often get the manuscript last, but ideally, a professional editor should be employed at every stage of the manuscript’s development. Alphas, betas, and editors are an author’s essential team to produce a quality story. Fresh eyes, outside perspectives, and unique opinions are important. How writers handle the criticism offered by these three groups varies. Having someone point out the less-than-stellar elements in your work-in-progress can feel like an attack. Insecure writers get defensive and argue that the commenter knows nothing about quality writing and doesn’t understand the deeper themes of the novel. They then ignore everything the reader said—a dangerous attitude that produces badly written books. A smart writer will consider the readers’ remarks and apply the suggestions to improve the manuscript. I’m an editor and a writer: I dish out the critiques, and I have to endure them, too. Editing someone else’s work is WAY more fun than receiving criticism of my own. Taking correction is hard. First, acknowledge that even kind comments and suggestions can hurt. It’s okay to feel the sting of a critique. Then, recall these important elements I tell my Play On Words clients.
People often ask me how I get ideas for and develop stories.
Each book is different. Story ideas can come from an experience, a picture, a song, a person, a news clip, or a conversation. But an idea isn’t a story. An idea might be “A princess discovers she’s the guardian of a Mystic treasure she didn’t know existed.” That idea requires hard work and a lot more substance to turn into an 80k-word novel. My ideas develop in a variety of ways. Some stories grow like Jack’s beanstalk, from a spark to a plot in a matter of minutes. Others take longer. The idea will stew for a few days or weeks. It swirls, bubbles, and swells until I have enough mental images to string together a barebones plot and add to the concepts in a structured way on paper. My favorite stories are those that leap to life with little effort. But everything I bother to flesh out eventually breathes on its own. If I’m not excited about it, it’s not worth the sweat and trouble to write it down. I despise writing stories that I don’t feel a passion for, and forced words don’t make for pleasant reading. The Rose of Caledon lived in my head for seven months before I started writing it. Myrhiadh’s War sprang to life like nothing before or since and 75k words hit the page in 33 days. The Mystic’s Mandate was the most hair-tearing writing experience I’ve ever had, while The Curse of Caledon and Guardians of Caledon were easy and fun. Now that I’ve almost finished Hindsight, the last book in the Dragon’s Fire Series, I’m looking at what to write next. I have a stand-alone manuscript on agent submissions, and it’s time to figure out a fresh project. One of my documents contains no less than 26 new story ideas. Choosing which to focus my mental energies on was challenging. I narrowed the list to four, then played with them until one surfaced as the most intriguing. This concept was born within the manuscript that I’m sending to agents. As I’ve mulled over it, it’s changing shape and coming to life in ways I didn’t expect. It no longer shares many of its original descriptions from the existing story. I’m not even sure what genre it fits into. I don’t know who the characters are yet, but we’re chatting—I call the process “talking to shadows.” The document is a mess of notes and tentative research. The next step will be to organize those into a coherent plot. If that works, and a story bursts into flame amid the sparks, I’ll begin the first draft. No commitments. But I returned the other three concepts to the “ideas” file for now. Every writer has piles of unfinished manuscripts, and not every idea turns into a Myrhiadh’s War experience. Not every story is publishable. For now, I’ll let my imagination run wild and see where it leads. Writing back cover blurbs isn’t on my list of favorite things to do; I’d rather write a 100k-word novel than a 150-word teaser. Why? Let me count the reasons…
The purpose of a back cover copy is to snag a reader’s attention and make them want to read your book. For an author, that’s an immediate powder keg of pressure, right there. The text must grab readers with powerful, captivating words, avoid spoilers, introduce the story in roughly 150 words, and finish on a cliffhanger that leaves readers salivating for more. Sounds easy? It’s not. I wrote about 80 versions of the blurb for Guardians of Caledon. The teaser for Hindsight, recently released to mailing list subscribers, was readable in only nine drafts (practice makes better, perhaps?), but that doesn’t mean it’s done. It will undergo multitudinous rewrites and tweaks between now and when it ends up on the book, and I’ll still be wondering whether I could have improved it after publication. (As I’m typing this blog, I’ve added another paragraph to Hindsight’s blurb—a potential replacement for the third paragraph, but I can’t decide which version is best. I will agonize over it for weeks.) Questions constantly plague a writer. Am I telling a great story well? Will anyone want to read this? Am I just pretending to know what I’m doing? Now tell the writer to compose a back cover blurb, and a hundred different questions add to the uncertainty in her head. Am I telling enough? Am I telling too much? Where should I stop? Why does this teaser sound so dull? A lot of authors clam up and/or stutter when asked to summarize their plot. Writing summaries is no easier, except that the pressure expands over weeks of drafting, rather than having to answer within 20 seconds and feel like an idiot for years. Any writer seeking an agent must master the art of summarizing, because agents, too, demand summaries. Often in one sentence. Then there’s the synopsis, where the author gets to sum up her entire plot in one page and spoil the ending. Those are challenging, too. What to include? What not to include? The entire story is important—right? But I can’t include everything, or it won’t fit on the page! Summarizing the book in any form is way more difficult than writing the book. Like any other writing project, the first step is to write something. Anything. Even if it’s stupid. You can’t fix a blank page, so put some sort of gibberish on it so you can rework it. For Hindsight's teaser, I wrote a list of key story elements, and then summarized them in a few sentences that would accomplish the aforementioned herculean requirements. Once those sentences are in place, you tweak and scrap and rewrite until you produce something you think might work. You slap it on the back cover. And then you hope it will entice readers to open your book!  This new year will see the publication of the final title in the historical fantasy Dragon’s Fire Series. I never guessed The Rose of Caledon would turn into an epic saga when I started writing it in 2016. By Book Five, originally the series’ conclusion, I was having too much fun to stop. Books Six through Ten present a new story running parallel to the first.
A photo of a dragon mask inspired the concept for Book Six back in 2017, and the plot fell into place within two hours. But the idea of how to use that dragon mask to complete the series bloomed as I wrote Book Five in 2018. One Saturday morning, for two hours, I talked my husband’s ear off about Book Ten’s plot. I explained how the mask would tie Caledon’s story together over centuries, and culminate with an epic adventure that would cement the entire series. I was excited. He’s patient with me. To carry Ten’s story, I planned to create a new character, but a minor player in Book Five tapped me on the shoulder that morning and said, “This one’s mine.” Her name was Aerona: an actress at the living history museum in Book Five, where she had about five lines of dialogue and no surname. She was unimportant. But the more I considered her plea, the more she fit into the role I needed to fill. Well-versed in Caledon’s history because of her employment at the museum, she wanted much more than the “nobody” role I had given her in Five. She was perfect. But I didn’t relish working with a main character named Aerona. Since I hadn’t published Five yet, she got a name change and became Holly. Her surname materialized when I started writing Ten, and she needed one. Holly O’Hannon opens the tale discontented with her lot at the museum, trapped in Caledon because of a global pandemic, grieving the loss of her mother and a breakup with a boyfriend, and desperate for a new perspective on life. Enter the Saorsa Mask. Hindsight is 20/20. Coming later this year!  Meet two more characters from The Apothecary’s Daughter!
Pháidín Keelan “You’re a smart young lady, Miss Sara, but you’re not smarter than me, and don’t you forget it.” Birthdate: 1550 Age at the time of this story: 53 Physical Characteristics: 6’0”, 174 lbs, gray hair, brown eyes Pháidín is the best apothecary in Grymwalde. His business serves the palace and the Crown. Pháidín prides himself on his skills, his elite clientele, and his location in the Royal District, four doors from the palace. Pháidín is a perfectionist, who will accept nothing less than the best from himself and others. He is a loyal Zandorian and a dutiful keeper of the Moral Laws—unless they interfere with the successful operation of his business. Pháidín will stop at nothing to see the Crown enthroned in Ampleforth. After losing his wife and two sons to scarlet fever, Pháidín took his five-year-old daughter, Sara, to his side to learn his trade. He never remarried, preferring to keep to himself and focus on his profession. Instead, he hired a housekeeper to manage his home and immersed himself in the apothecary. While ensuring that his daughter could run the business, he neglected her learning to run a household—a severe case of misplaced priorities by Zandorian standards. Pháidín suffers from chronic joint pain and uses opium to treat it. He believes himself in full control of his dosage and his reactions, and is unaware of how frequently he falls into a stupor after indulging in his favorite vice. “I have poured my lifeblood into the Paragon Apothecary. Trained as an apothecary from a youngster, I never doubted my skills. I thought myself invincible, with the power to cheat death, until scarlet fever took my beloved wife, Lydia, from me. As her life slipped like sand through my fingers, I never closed the business or paused my work to sit by her side. When she passed away that September afternoon, I was busy mixing yet another concoction that should have healed her. She died alone because I longed to be her savior and forgot to be her friend. “My sons, Aron and Paul, followed her within a week. I couldn’t save them either. I only saved little Sara by sending her away to relatives in the country. She came home to a house wreathed in sadness, with no companionship, and no mother’s touch to guide her to womanhood. “I had counted on handing the apothecary to the boys. Now, I only had Sara left, so I took her on as my apprentice and trained her in my profession. None of my acquaintances were in favor of Sara taking over the Paragon. I lost friends over the matter, and certain of our relatives refuse to speak to me. But why should I hand my thriving business to a stranger, leaving Sara dependent upon a decent marriage to secure her future? I taught her everything I know. She is an intelligent creature—innovative, quick to grasp new concepts, and bold in experimentation. “However, in my desperation to turn her into a competent apothecary, I have made her what Zandor despises: a headstrong, independent woman who thinks for herself. And recently, Sara has questioned everything the Crown says. I’ve known for years that we will lose the Crown’s business once Sara takes over the Paragon, unless I can find her a husband to serve as a figurehead first. But now, I fear her political leanings more than her sex. Sara’s stubborn refusal to accept the Crown’s explanation of what happened in Whitereach may be the fatal blow that drives the Paragon Apothecary into the ground long before my demise.” Gregory Ellis “Zandor is changing. If we don’t move with it, we’ll be trampled and left behind.” Birthdate: 1581 Age at the time of this story: 22 Physical Characteristics: 5’11”, 168 lbs, brown hair, brown eyes Gregory is the oldest of five children and a skilled archer—the son of a fletcher from a poor neighborhood in Grymwalde. Gregory is trained in his father’s trade, and his income is essential to support his impoverished family. But arrow-making is becoming an unreliable career as Zandor embraces modern weaponry and archers become an outdated commodity. A loyal Zandorian, Gregory recognizes the changes coming to Zandor as a positive step and is prepared to do whatever is necessary to meet the resulting challenges. He is an intelligent young man who will let evidence change his mind, even when it challenges his core beliefs. “I’m proud of my station. My family works hard, and what little we have, we’ve earned. I’ve always expected to run my father’s business and marry someone from a similar financial situation, who won’t ask for more than I can give. “Then I fell for Sara Keelan. My father despises the mere mention of her name, though he’s never met her. The Keelans are wealthy: big house, thriving business in the Royal District, titled customers, and direct access to the Crown and the Praeceptor. They want for nothing, and although Sara works hard, she’s accustomed to the finer things in life. “Things I can never afford. “I know my place; I’d be content to step back and admire her from afar, but she loves me, too. She assures me we’ll be all right; she’s the heiress to the Paragon Apothecary, after all. But I know nothing about medicines, potions, and herbs. I can’t help her run the business, and I won’t live off her charity. I need to support her myself, and I can’t ask her to stoop to my family’s level. She’d be miserable. “Her father doesn’t know about us. How much longer can we keep our relationship a secret? If I eloped with her, I’d spend my entire life feeling like I stole her, but Pháidín Keelan will run me off once he learns who and what I am. “I’m torn in too many directions: Sara, my family, the war. If only life were simple…” The plot of The Apothecary’s Daughter runs parallel to that of my favorite book in the series, Myrhiadh’s War. The two titles share several prominent characters, but I found a few new ones I haven’t profiled before to showcase here, starting, of course, with Sara Keelan. She occupied a scant seven pages in Myrhiadh’s War, but she carries the story in Book Nine. Sara Keelan “The Paragon contains plenty of poisons. And Father taught me how to use every one of them.” Birthdate: 1583 Age at the time of this story: 20 Physical Characteristics: 5’7”, 135 lbs, chestnut hair, brown eyes Sara is the third child and only daughter of a prominent and wealthy Zandorian apothecary who provides regular service to the Crown. When Sara’s mother and two older brothers die of scarlet fever in 1588, Sara’s father resolves to leave his business to her, and takes her on as his apprentice. By the time Sara reaches adulthood, she is a knowledgeable apothecary in her own right, with extensive experience in preparing and prescribing herbs and medicines. Besides her education as an apothecary, Sara is well-schooled in the tenets of Zandorian thought: loyalty to the Crown, abhorrence of the Failings, and observation of the Moral Laws. Sara’s father expects her to make an excellent match to better the apothecary’s fortunes, as certain of Zandor’s citizenry won’t do business with a woman. The plans for Sara’s future are logical and straightforward. But when a war changes course, Zandor finds itself on the losing end of the battle. Sara discovers just how shaky her world’s foundations are, and learns that the Crown she has trusted is not what she believed. With her future and her fortune at stake, Sara faces the unthinkable: a takeover of Zandor by her enemies, and the potential loss of everything she has ever treasured. “All I wanted was to avoid conflict and trouble. I was a dutiful Zandorian: faithful to the Crown, conscientious about the Failings, exemplary in following the Moral Laws… “Oh, never mind. I can’t even finish that statement with a straight face. A dutiful Zandorian and faithful to the Crown, perhaps, but the Moral Laws are extreme, and despite succumbing to the Failings occasionally, I’m here to tell the tale. The Failings themselves are not the danger—the Crown’s punishments are. “Zandorian laws are strict for women, but I have to break the rules. I couldn’t do my job if I didn’t instruct men in using the medicines I prescribe, walk the streets of Grymwalde without an escort, and occasionally ride a horse. Fate decreed I should work full time in a man’s occupation, and my workload will only become greater as my father grows older and eventually hands the apothecary to me. “My education equals or exceeds that of most men: Latin, literature, mathematics, and chemistry. I am well versed in using the hundreds of herbs and medicines on the apothecary’s shelves. I have zero patience for hiding, mouselike, behind a veil of hair around the stronger sex. “And now I’ve added to my Failings by meeting secretly with a man of whom Father would wholeheartedly disapprove. He’s of a station far below ours, and with the turn in the war, and Caledon and Langdon on Zandor’s doorstep, what skills he possesses will soon be obsolete. “Then, there’s Whitereach. “Nothing is predictable or reliable anymore. “Including the Crown.” Mawde “...” Birthdate: 1565 Age at the time of this story: 38 Physical Characteristics: 5’5”, 120 lbs, dark brown hair, brown eyes Mawde, the Keelans’ housekeeper, has worked in their employ for 15 years, since the death of Sara’s mother. Mawde is mute and communicates through gestures and grunts, and though capable of writing, she seldom uses this medium. Mawde’s days are long and demanding, starting well before sunrise. Most of the general household tasks fall to her, since Sara has trained in the apothecary with her father from the age of five. Mawde has mastered the adage, “Mind your place.” To be unobtrusive and useful is her primary aspiration. She retires to bed early, after ensuring everything is organized for her employer and his daughter for the evening. Little irritates Mawde more than having her routine disrupted. Mawde has few friends, but many acquaintances. She gathers information, domestic and political, from the other housekeepers at the community well. People make assumptions about you when you’re mute. Most folks assume that, because I don’t speak, my brain doesn’t work. I assure you, I’m perfectly capable of reasoned thought, and more intelligent than most. I am grateful for my place with the Keelans. Sara is a sweet girl, and her father is a fair employer, who leaves me to run the house as I see fit with few restrictions. If the rooms are clean, the fires are tended, and tasty meals are served on time, Mr. Keelan doesn’t interfere with me. I pass much of my time alone. The hired man is busy with his tasks, and Mr. Keelan and Sara spend their days in the dispensary. Some might find it lonely, but I cherish the solitude. Mr. Keelan serves the palace a few times each month with his medicinal skills, and deals directly with the Crown and the Praeceptor. He seldom speaks of anything he sees or hears within the palace walls, but he considers his position a high honor. One of his worst fears is that the Crown will shun his daughter’s services once he can no longer work, simply because she is a woman. Mr. Keelan is a devout servant of the Crown. He will permit no violations of the Moral Laws or weakness to the Failings in his household. Not a word against the Crown or the Praeceptor ever crosses his lips, and he demands the same level of devotion from every member of his household. Sometimes, it’s well that I don’t speak… I am a plot-driven reader and writer. I enjoy a story where exciting things happen. A strong plot makes readers turn pages, but describing a series of events without relating them to the human experience soon becomes boring. For a novel to hold a reader’s attention for 75k+ words, the story must come alive in the reader’s mind.
Well-developed characters are the key to bringing a story to life. When readers connect with a character, they keep turning pages. To achieve reader connection, characters must be believable: likable yet flawed, consistent yet changeable. Readers must understand why the main character acts as she does, and even feel they might respond similarly in the same circumstances. Books and writing courses suggest many intricate systems for developing rounded, relatable characters, but every writer will have a different approach. I dislike systems; I create characters organically. For me, the plot comes first. The “what” of the story becomes entrenched in my head, and I create characters to fill roles as I need them. The plot of Dragon’s Fire, for example, was established before I started considering “who” should carry the story, and the villain and the dragons developed next. Ciara and I spent three days experimenting with various scenes and situations before she filled out and took her place in the cast and the story. The other supporting characters came to life as I needed them. Each main character begins with a goal (often external) and a flaw or physical challenge that prevents her from reaching that goal. Each protagonist develops around her story problem. Ciara wanted to learn what the Dragon’s Fire was and was tasked with guarding it, but her difficulty with decision-making hindered her—not to mention caves full of dragons! The characters grow throughout the drafting process, and they become close friends to me during that time. Most of the main characters share some traits with me or with someone I’m close to. They live in my head, though I often project them into the room so I can see them. (The powers of hyperphantasia!) We hold conversations, and in that way, they take on dimension and form, unfolding their dreams, desires, and histories. I often rewrite scenes in later drafts when I’ve learned more about a character or her backstory, and I need to change or deepen her character arc. I weave introspection and description into the action—I dislike dwelling too long on anything that slows the story’s progression. Experts recommend getting to know characters thoroughly before beginning to write. I prefer to insert my characters into a story and see what they do. Planning everything about them ahead of time feels contrived and cardboard. Therefore, characters often surprise me with unexpected information about themselves mid-story, but that makes the drafting process more fun. I enjoy learning about them as I go. Despite me starting my stories with a plot, my characters take over by the middle, introducing new ideas and sending the action skewering off in whatever direction they choose. This mutiny has sometimes occurred as early as page ten. Book Ten’s middle looks nothing like what I plotted. But when the unexpected happens, the story and the characters grow like two vines intertwining as they climb a trellis, becoming one inseparable unit. I’ve been studying fiction writing over the past couple of years, and what I’m learning is improving my work. However, I don’t foresee myself changing my character development techniques. I love getting to know new friends as their story grows. To summarize, I don’t have a formula that guarantees a character will resonate with readers. A character that one reader loves, another might hate. But I’ve had a lot of feedback from readers who have bonded with my characters, with descriptions including “unforgettable,” “endearing,” “enchanting,” and “amazing,” so I must be doing something right. I love them all. The Dragon’s Fire Series spans 800 years in the first five books, and once I’ve finished Ten, my readers and I will have traversed sixteen centuries of Caledon’s history. The decades or longer between each title mean that, whenever I start a new story, I’m usually starting with a fresh cast.
But occasionally, a timeline overlap allows me to bring back a character I’ve worked with before. Joseph Callahan played a villain in Three, but stars as the hero in Eight. Adrian Zandor appeared in One and Seven (and Five, in a way). James Grenleigh has parts in four different novels. Book Nine, The Apothecary’s Daughter, presented a perfect opportunity to include some characters from previous books, since the story overlaps with Book Three, Myrhiadh’s War. You’ll be seeing James Grenleigh, Myrhiadh Eathain, Andrew Bramston, and the Praeceptor, while Sara Keelan, a minor character from War, takes on the lead role. I’ve enjoyed working with some of my old friends again. Reusing old characters can be more challenging than creating new ones. Old characters are set in their ways. Without a believable motivation for change, they need to respond the way the reader expects them to, regardless of circumstances. The writer must recall the character’s mannerisms and individual quirks. A difference in time between stories might mean he is now a child or an elderly person. His history and future must connect to the current events. James Grenleigh’s role in Nine is overshadowed by circumstances described in Three. I could never forget what was driving him, or he wouldn’t have rung true with readers. His relationship with Andrew Bramston, whom he has only newly met face to face, is a peculiar mix of friend and enemy. Leaders of nations recently at war and negotiating the joint ruling of a defeated foe, James and Andrew’s interactions require a distinct level of tension while still being cooperative. But old characters are good friends. The writer knows them, and familiarity is helpful overall, even if they challenge the framework of a new story with their history. Creating new characters is a complex process, but if they’re consistent and believable, anything goes. Sara Keelan had a seven-page role in Three—minor enough that I could shape her for Book Nine with only a few rules to follow from the earlier title. Book Nine is available now, and it details the new adventures of some favorite characters. After that, Book Ten will see the return of several characters from previous books, and I’ll be throwing my good friends into some unimaginable situations. We’ll see how previously developed personalities respond when everything around them changes completely! Stay tuned. I’ve got lots in store for Caledon yet! “Agents who reject your query seldom give feedback. If they provide comments, pay attention! They know what sells. Take their advice. Consider applicable rewrites. These might make the difference between a hard no or a request for the full manuscript on your next query.” (Play On Words Editing)
I'm a freelance editor, and I like to think I give my clients sound advice. So, when I got an opportunity to follow my advice, I took it! An agent rejected my manuscript with a tip: the book’s too short. She also told me that if I edited the story to make it longer, she’d welcome my query in her inbox again. A rejection, plus advice, plus an invitation to resend! Barring a request for a full manuscript, that’s about the best initial agent response a writer can hope for. But I didn’t relish the idea of rewriting my book. Any skilled writer knows they can’t increase a book’s word count by adding a bunch of adjectives and adverbs and making their sentences wordier. Cass slammed the book on the desk, cannot become Cass grew very impatient and, with a vicious scowl, slammed the heavy, thick book on the polished, sturdy oak desk to show her immense displeasure with the dreadfully horrible turn of events of the day. If I do that to enough sentences, I’ll bulk my 61k manuscript up to 95k in no time, but it’s a grade-school way to accomplish the task. The words in the bulky example diminish the emotion and the action. They tell what’s going on rather than letting the character show it, and leave the reader floundering in a sea of turgid description that adds little value to the story. I knew I had to add solid content to my book, but when you’ve already completed a manuscript, it’s hard to consider what might be lacking. You don’t want to add fluff. Tacking-on scenes accomplishes the same thing as the extra words in my sentence above. If they don’t belong, they’re just padding out a story that doesn’t need them. I asked a few of my writer friends for advice, and the best response came from Sophie Draper, author of The Stranger in Our Home and House of Secrets. She said, “Think about your story—is it incomplete? Have you developed the story line enough—think emotional impact, consequence, mystery and clues… (add) a subplot or some relevant backstory. I’d go back to the drawing board and re-plot and then rewrite from scratch, employing some of my already written scenes, but rebuilding around my core story pitch.” Sophie’s guidance showed me how to tackle the rewrite to grow the story itself, not just the word count. However, fear was a big part of the process. Over a year ago, I completed the original story. I feared I wouldn’t be able to wrap my head around the plot and the characters to increase the content; I feared the ideas wouldn’t come. But I had to start somewhere. I began by analyzing the story’s existing plot and brainstorming ideas that might fit. Scenes played in my head, and the plot and characters expanded. A finished story grew like a brand new one once I released my imagination. By the end of my study, I had listed the main points of the existing plot and created a page and a half of new ideas and a subplot. The next step was to weave those concepts seamlessly into the existing plot; reading the new version, no one should detect any added elements or question whether they were necessary. The initial cuts and additions to the manuscript were difficult; I mulled over the changes for a week before I dared to start. Once I did, things flowed. I started having fun and didn’t want to put it down. Adding brand new material to an edited and polished document gets challenging in places. It’s hard to apply my first draft attitude of “Write something; write anything; fix it later,” to a document I’ve spent a few hundred hours making as perfect as possible. I’ve had to wrap my mind around the idea that I’ll be adding material in many places, and messy is okay. I’ll re-edit. This invitation to expand and resend has forced me to explore an angle of writing I haven’t tackled before: to rewrite a completed text to meet larger specifications. I’m up for the challenge. My 61k manuscript is at 84k and counting. |