An interesting thing occurred to me the other day – Saturday, I think it was, officially – concerning my book. My current book, D:R. I felt like, in chapter one, I’ve already introduced all the conflict there is to introduce, and all that’s left is to resolve it. Which is probably good, though not precisely true, except that I feel like I could resolve everything in about three chapters. Making it a very, very short novel – a non-novel, for how short it would be. The more I thought about it, the clearer it became why I felt this way.
First, the movement of the characters – the action part of the plot, that is – is really very basic. Not in a bad way, I don’t think; but it could really be told in a short story of about 15,000 to 25,000 words – if I was only concerned with the action part of the plot.
But then I began to think about a character I’m about to introduce – he’s not a foil, per se, but he’s the rasp that will sharpen the main character. Then I began to realize that this is the first piece I’m working on – and it happens to be a novel – in which character development is probably the heftier part of the story. The action drives the characters, to be sure; but the characters drive each other too – and really, a major point of this story is the depth of these characters. The theme is tied not just to what they do, but how they are. Similarly, the culture of the land is huge in advancing the theme, and much of the story will be spent on that as well.
So this is very new territory for me, and when I think in terms of moving the story forward I cannot simply think of physical foils to the character’s journey, but mental foils as well. I have begun this process, in working out what drives the traits of each character. But I had forgotten, for a time, how much I need to develop that not only for each character, conjuring situations which allows the reader to see how these characters tick, but also I need to develop situations in which the characters act and react off each other – and then spin all that toward the theme of the novel.
My fiancée recently advised me not to expect to write this story as swiftly as I revised my first attempt at a novel. Which is true on two fronts: in the revision, though it was essentially from scratch, I knew the plot intimately. I’d been with that plot for a number of years. But secondly, that story was – in its former state – much more about action and much less about characters. I’m convinced now, working on this book, that the focus will change to the characters by the time I get back to it. And I will be totally revising it again – but definitely for the better.
I still hope to finish a chapter a week, but it will take more effort than perhaps I first anticipated. We’ll see how it goes. See you tomorrow!
"Going back in" to a story can be very daunting; not just because we're adding depth, or characters, or new plot threads, but because if we're not careful, these changes can appear to a reader much like too many pieces of gray duct tape holding an old car together. They can hesitate,sometimes a smidge too long, while they decide whether they really want to go for a ride with us. But if we don't disturb the flow, the reader will never know!
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