That @#$ing Chapter

Every story has That @#$ing Chapter that you know has to be there, but just isn’t working. Even when an author outlines, it’s inevitable to realize that a scene or plot point you need just isn’t coming together properly. But the story needs That @#$ing Chapter! The plot can’t progress without it. The characters will lose all their momentum. Without it, everything grinds to a halt.

I don’t generally outline my stories. The term plotting or pantsing (as in by-the-seat-of-your-pants) is bandied about readily in the writing community, but I think it’s a false dichotomy. Most writers don’t sit on one end or the other, but rather, move along a spectrum of the two extremes. I can’t speak for all writers–nor would I want to–but the story is made in the edit for the most part. It doesn’t matter how well you outlined or plotted or improvised your way through the first draft, the edit is where everything starts making sense.

Granted, everyone edits in a different way, and every story is different. For some of my novels, the first draft ended up being very close to the finished product. For others, there ended up being a pile of unused chapters and ideas. It varies.

For my first novel, GIL’S ALL FRIGHT DINER, the first draft wasn’t that different from the final book. It was mostly tidying up and cutting out loose threads. On the other end of that scale, CHASING THE MOON was almost maddening. It’s a meandering, somewhat confusing story by its nature. And I didn’t really “Get it” myself until I was near the end. Once I got to there, all the pieces fell into place. But the journey was unusually stressful.

I tend to reject the term pantsing and prefer to think myself as a sketcher. I usually start with something simple: a character, a concept, a setting, a theme, and then I sketch out the rest of the story around it. It’s important during this process that I remind myself none of it is permanent. It’s all just a sketch that can be erased and modified. Once I hit the draft I’m happy with it’s then that I start using “ink”, solidifying the elements, and polishing them up. It is sometimes a smooth process. Often, it isn’t.

Having done this for too many decades, I’ve learned to trust the process. Even as I write stories now, I often feel like I don’t know what I’m doing. Then I remind myself that I’ve written dozens of novels and short stories–not all published–and while it can be a daunting task, it isn’t impossible.

That @#$ing Chapter can happen anywhere in the novel though. Probably not the very end, but even then, all the pieces can be in place, the plot resolved, and still, a good ending can be elusive.

My primary way of getting around That @#$ing Chapter is to just skip it. It’s counter-intuitive. How can I write what comes next if I don’t know what happens? Particularly in a pivotal chapter that can send the story in so many directions? What if I skip That @#$ing Chapter, write fifty pages, and then discover that none of those pages work when I go back to write the chapter?

I’m not going to lie to you. That is a definite possibility. By now, I must have written hundreds of pages that didn’t make it into a book. Either they didn’t end up being relevant or they hurt the pacing or they just stank. My books have left behind many casualties of That @#$ing Chapter.

But this isn’t always what happens. Sometimes, a chapter that just isn’t working suddenly works once you realize what is coming after it. Maybe it only needs a small change. Or maybe it needs to be completely different. Or maybe (if you’re lucky) it doesn’t need to be changed at all.

This skip methodology works for me as long as I accept the possibility that it might lead to “wasted” writing. Though I don’t like to use that term either. Writing something you don’t like or can’t use isn’t wasted. It’s taking the scenic route to get where you need to be.

In my experience, it isn’t That @#$ing Chapter that stops your story. It’s fear of writing badly and “wasting” time. But I’ve learned to simply view it as part of the writing process. It’s annoying, sure, that it remains invisible to the audience. The parts of the story that never made it into the story, for whatever reason, can be frustrating. Especially because they are invisible to the audience by their nature.

It would be fantastic if I could avoid the problem. If I had a genie, I’d wish away all Those @#$ing Chapters with my third wish. (My first would be for world peace, my second a solid gold rocketcar.) But sadly such options aren’t available for me, so I do the next best thing: push forward.

The power That @#$ing Chapter has over you depends on how much you’re willing to let it stop you. So don’t let it stop you.

It’ll work out fine in the end. I promise.

FIGHTING THE GOOD FIGHT, WRITING THE GOOD WRITE,

LEE