Knowing When to Finish

How do we know when it’s time to ditch a story and when it’s time to rewrite it?

That is the question.

A very important one, I might add. Since it involves months and months of a precious little commodity called time.

After my year-long adventure in tearing apart and restructuring my current WIP, I am convinced that rewriting a novel takes much longer than writing one.

It’s like putting together a very intricate puzzle while pulling from a pile of two puzzle piece sets. And to make it extra complicated, some pieces are missing. So not only do you have to figure out what pieces don’t belong, you have to find the right ones to add.

Oh the insanity!

So how do we know when to put ourselves through that headache and when to simply ditch the story and start on something new?

I will be honest. A big part of my decision had to do with sheer stubbornness. And fear. I was afraid. Because if I didn’t finish this story, who’s to say I wouldn’t be more inclined to not finish others? I wanted to prove to myself I could do it. Despite the agony. Despite the challenge.

But let’s take out the stubborn/fear factor for just a second. Let’s imagine those aren’t the best reasons to stick with a project. 

How can we know when a story is worth finishing? 

When we try to move on, but we can’t seem to let go.

I tried to give up on this story. I really did. But the dang thing wouldn’t leave me alone. It turned into this nagging chant. Instead of “Feed me, Seymour” (hello Little Shop of Horrors), it was: Finish me….finish me….finish me! Despite being a giant pain in my rear, this story had a lot of emotional meat. Which is what I love to write. I couldn’t let it go.

When we tell people the premise and get a positive reaction.

There I was at the ACFW conference. About to toss this story aside. Feeling both liberated and conflicted. When I start talking about the novel to a group of writing friends. Their response was overwhelmingly positive. The interested kind of positive, too. Not the, “Oh, that’s nice. Can we move onto something different now?” Which confirmed what I knew in my gut. The story has potential.

So I decided to stick with it. And when I finished the major restructure, I felt victorious. Incredibly so. Because the endeavor felt like a never-ending upward climb.

Here’s the thing.

There is a very real chance this story will never be published. And this is my sixth novel. Not my first. 

But you know what?

That’s okay. Because the longer I travel this journey, the more I realize that unpublishable words are never wasted words and unpublishable stories are never wasted stories.

I learned a lot through this process. I grew a ton as a writer. 

It was great practice. And very timely. Because soon I’ll be diving into content edits for Wishing on Willows. And I’m pretty sure I’m in store for another major restructure. Only this time I can enter with a semblance of confidence. Knowing, at least, that I’ve done it before.

Let’s Talk: What makes you stick with a novel? What makes you move on? Are you the type that stubbornly refuses to give up on a story when you should let go? Or are you more the type to let go of a story when you should try finishing it? 

*Photo by RetailByRyan95

First Novels

When it comes to publication, the love of storytelling must come first. If you are in this for the fame or the money or the glory or the status, then you’re in for a rude awakening.  

We write because something in us longs for it.  

Yet you don’t hear of many novelists who pen a story, stick it in a drawer, and get to work on penning another. Most of us desire publication. 

Why is that? Why do those of us who write books so often aspire to publish them?

I think the answer is simple.

That story we long to tell is the same story we long to share. And publication is an excellent means to that end.

So we sit in our chairs like good little writers and we write that first novel, delighting in the magic that is storytelling. But also spurred on by the hope that maybe, just maybe, it will be on somebody’s nightstand someday. 

I know that was my hope when I wrote my first novel. 

I came back from Kenya with a story bursting inside me. A story I couldn’t wait to write. It was magical, that first novel. I loved it. Absolutely, one hundred percent loved it. I’m telling you, I believed in that story. I thought it was good enough to share. Good enough to publish. And I think that was a good thing.

Because if I would have written that story thinking, “This is just a stepping stone”. Or if I would have written that story without the hope of one day sharing it, I think that might have sucked away some enthusiasm. I think I would have felt deflated before I ever got the chance to hit my stride.

So while I resonate with the majority of Jody Hedlund’s post, How to Drive Yourself Crazy as a Writer. While I wholeheartedly agree that a writer must take intrinsic joy in the process of writing. I don’t agree that writers should write their first novel with the belief that it won’t be ready for publication. 

It’s okay to dream. It’s okay to hope. It’s okay, even good, to imagine that maybe, just maybe, that first book could be the one.

It’s happened before.

But the key, the absolute key, is to keep writing. 

Maybe your first novel will be published. But don’t put all your eggs in that particular basket. Keep, keep writing. And by writing, I mean something new. While your first novel is getting critiqued, or read by beta readers, or professionally edited, or while it’s out on submission to agents, write a different story. The world is filled with them. Latch onto one you’re dying to tell and write it.

Not only will you grow and improve. But you’ll have another story. And the more stories you have, the less pressure you’ll pin on that first one. 

Maybe it’s still a masterpiece. In which case, bravo!

Or maybe it’s lost some of its shine. Because your second novel is a thousand times better. And your third one, even more so.

And you start to see what you couldn’t have, maybe even shouldn’t have, when you wrote your first. That while it might not be ready for anybody’s nightstand, it wasn’t a wasted effort. Because without it, you wouldn’t be the writer you are today.

Let’s Talk: How many novels have you written? How has your opinion of your first novel evolved over time?

Conquering Doubt

If you’re a writer, then you’re going to face it. At some point, or more like at multiple points, you will battle doubt.

It comes at typical times.

Like when an agent rejects your work. Or your book doesn’t make it past pub board. Or you don’t final in a contest. Or you get a tough critique or a long revision letter. Or a bad review.

It also comes at not so typical times.

Like four and a half months from the release of your debut novel. And people are starting to say, “I can’t wait to read your book!”

You smile, of course. But inside, your stomach ties into knots. 

Because what if they don’t like it?

I’m discovering that no matter where we are on this writing journey, we’re never safe from doubt.

So what can we do when it comes? How can we fight it?

Know when to turn off your inner critic.

When we’re exposed to something over and over again, we become desensitized toward it. I’ve read Wildflowers from Winter so many times now, I’m convinced the story is completely devoid of emotion. My eyes are not fresh. I can’t see the story clearly. So the best thing I can do as I go through galleys is turn off my inner critic and search for typos. 

Revisit the good stuff.

Whenever my grandma reads my latest book, she writes me the most encouraging, heartfelt letters. I’ve kept every one. And when I’m having a particularly doubt-filled day, I get them out and read. Sure, she’s my grandma. She sees my work through love-tainted eyes. But so what? When we’re facing doubt, disregard bias. 

Check for growth.

When I start to think my debut is a pitiful excuse for a book, I open up my first novel. Works every time. Maybe Wildflowers from Winter isn’t as brilliant or life-changing as I want it to be, but it’s a heck of a lot better than my earlier attempts.  

This writing journey is called a journey for a reason.

As long as we’re growing, we should punch doubt in the nose and tell it to take a hike.  

Do what you can and let the rest go.

Worrying about things that are outside of our control – like how readers will respond or how reviewers will review – is an exercise in futility. All we can do is write the best story we can write and leave the rest up to God. I have roughly four months to practice. I’m hoping to see some marked improvement.

Let’s Talk: What do you do when doubt comes knocking?