In November my novel was 247 pages long. I still refer to that stack of paper as my first draft, but by January 11th I was back down to 35 pages. The story changed so much as I wrote it that by the time I reached the end, the beginning I had written months before no longer worked. I had to trash most of my work.
I’ve heard great writers talk about how they always trash their first hundred pages – that it takes that long to figure a story out. One writer (Isabel Allende I think?) even refers to those as pages -100 to 0, then she starts with page 1.
So even though scrapping over 200 pages seems extreme, I’m willing to accept the loss as part of the process. The thing is, now that I’m back up to page 120, the ending I wrote in my first draft doesn’t seem quite right.
Here’s my nightmare: I figure out the next 200 pages, but by the time I get to the end, my current beginning is no longer any good. So I rewrite the beginning again, then the end doesn’t fit. This cycle goes on indefinitely, and I never, ever finish my novel.
Am I spiraling down into a tighter and tighter story with all the interesting characters and moving plot points that will keep a reader turning the pages? Or am I chasing bubbles in the breeze? I’m going on faith that this process I’m engaged in will lead me to a finished product at some point, but at times I get nervous that I’m going nowhere.
All I can do is keep writing.
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