April Davila's Blog, page 2

Research for Fiction Writing

Do You Need to Know the Weather in Chicago on March 7, 1930? (Maybe)

Research for fiction writing can be both inspiring and overwhelming. It’s easy to fall into the trap of endless Googling in the name of “getting it right,” only to find yourself hours deep in historical trivia with nothing on the page.

You sit down to write a scene.

It starts with a simple question: what did Chicago look like in 1930?

You hop on Google, planning to get just enough to color the background—and an hour later, you’re an expert on wind patterns, municipal building codes, and (for some reason) the 1930 weather report for March 7. It feels like progress—like you’re doing important groundwork—but then you glance at the clock and realize:

You haven’t written one word of your scene. 

As  a writer, you want to get the details right—but how do you know when it’s enough? How do you avoid spending hours on research that may never even make it into the final draft?

The truth is, research for fiction writing can be both a gift and a trap. Yes, it’s necessary for creating a believable world. But it can also be a sneaky way to procrastinate—especially when the writing gets hard.

I’ve been there. I once spent half a day researching the prevalence of glass-paned windows in 1850 California only to realize that it didn’t matter to my story AT ALL. 

So how do we find the balance? How do we do enough research without disappearing down the rabbit hole?

The trick? A clear structure for when and how to research.

The 3-Round Research Method

Not all research deserves the same amount of time or energy. To keep myself (and my students) from over-researching, I use a simple system I call the 3-Round Research Method.

Round One: Broad-Strokes Plausibility

Start by gathering the big-picture facts: what’s the time period, major technologies, political climate, and social norms? You don’t need deep expertise—just enough to make sure your story doesn’t feel wildly inaccurate.

Think of this as laying the foundation of your world. The goal isn’t perfection. It’s plausibility.

Round Two: Scene-Level Accuracy

Once you’re writing, you’ll need to add some texture. What would your character see, smell, hear? What kinds of shoes would they wear? How might they light their home at night?

This round is about immersing the reader in a lived-in world. But keep it light. Use specific detail sparingly, and always in service of the story. No info dumps.

Here’s a helpful gut check: would a reader stop and question this detail? If yes, verify it. If not, trust yourself and keep going.

Round Three: Deep-Dive Details

This is the level where it’s okay to find out what the weather was on a Tuesday in 1930—but only if your plot hinges on that storm.

These are the rare, story-critical details that deserve a full deep dive. But be cautious. You usually only need one or two pieces of specific information to make the world feel real.

As I often remind my students: the goal isn’t to prove you did your homework—it’s to make the reader feel like your world is real.

How Much Research for Fiction Writing Is Enough?

Here’s a quick test: will a typical reader pause and question this moment? If so, check your facts. If not, let it go.

We’re aiming for verisimilitude—the appearance of truth—more than literal, academic accuracy. That’s especially important to remember if you’re writing fiction.

You’re not writing a textbook. You’re telling a story. Research supports the story—not the other way around.

One trap I see writers (myself included) fall into is researching tangents that never make it into the book. It feels useful in the moment, but if it doesn’t serve your plot or your characters, it’s likely just another distraction in disguise.

A Few Questions to Reflect On

Let’s have some fun with this. Here are a few questions I often ask myself and my writers in our community—and they always lead to lively conversations:

What’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever researched for your book?Do you tend to over-research or under-research?How do you know when it’s time to stop researching and start writing?Want to Write More Without Getting Lost in Research?

Join the Mindful Writing Community and tune in for our mastermind sessions every Wednesday. We dig into topics just like this: how to stay focused, find balance, and actually finish what we start.

Because at the end of the day, no amount of research can replace the writing itself.

Choosing Your Publishing Path: The Traditional Way or Self-Publish?

Somewhere along the way—usually after a few drafts and a whole lot of soul-searching—every writer faces the same question: Should I try to get a book deal, or should I self-publish?

And the truth is, there’s no right answer. The publishing path that’s best for you is the one that supports your goals, your timeline, and your strengths as a writer.

If you’re feeling stuck at this particular fork in the road, you’re not alone. Let’s break it down.

Traditional Publishing: The Dream (and the Reality)

For many writers, traditional publishing feels like the ultimate goal. There’s a certain validation in landing an agent, signing a contract, and seeing your book in bookstores. It’s the path that generally comes with professional editing, distribution support, and an advance.

If your dream is to walk into your neighborhood bookstore and spot your book on the “Staff Picks” shelf—traditional publishing is the lane you want to be in.

But the process can be long. Really long.

You’ll need:

A polished, agent-ready manuscriptA strong query letterPatience for the submission process (think months… or years)A willingness to handle marketing

Traditional publishing isn’t just about talent; it’s also about timing, market trends, and industry fit. What you give up in terms of control, you gain in the form of support, but that support can mean that your book reaches a much wider audience than it might otherwise.

Self-Publishing: Creative Control and Faster Timelines

On the flip side, self-publishing gives you full ownership of the process. If you’re someone who likes to be in the driver’s seat, this might be your route.

Self-publishing is fast, flexible, and empowering. You set your own schedule. You keep a bigger share of the royalties. You write the rules.

But it’s not without its challenges. You’re not just the author—you’re also the publisher, project manager, and marketing team. The job is less difficult if you’re writing in a genre like romance or thriller (genres with voracious consumers) but if you’re writing literary fiction it can be challenging to get your book into the hands of potential readers. 

If that challenge excites you more than it intimidates you, self-publishing can be incredibly fulfilling.

Hybrid Publishing: A Middle Way

If traditional publishing feels too slow and self-publishing feels too overwhelming, hybrid publishing might offer a balanced alternative. Hybrid publishers typically ask authors to contribute financially to the production of their book, but in exchange, they provide professional services—editing, design, distribution, and sometimes even marketing.

This model gives you more support than self-publishing without the gatekeeping of traditional publishing. But be cautious: not all hybrid publishers are created equal. Some are excellent partners, others are just overpriced printers. Do your homework. Look for hybrid presses that vet manuscripts, are transparent about costs, and offer a royalties structure that feels fair.

Writers who’ve gone hybrid often say they liked having professional guidance without needing to chase down an agent. It’s especially worth considering if you want to publish on a timeline, but still crave the polish of a team behind you.

Choosing Your Publishing Path: Questions to Ask Yourself

Before choosing a publishing path, take a moment to reflect on what you really want out of the experience.
Here are a few clarifying questions:

What are your goals as a writer?Are you hoping to build a long-term writing career?Is this a passion project you want to finish and share?How important is timing?Can you wait years to see your book in print?Or would you prefer to publish in the next six months?Do you have the budget (and energy) to manage production?Are you comfortable hiring professionals for editing, book design, website creation, etc.?Are you excited—or overwhelmed—by the idea of marketing?

And perhaps most importantly:

What feels aligned with your why?If you revisit the reason you started writing this book in the first place, does one path stand out?

There’s no wrong answer here.
You don’t need permission to share your story with the world. The right publishing path is the one that gets your book into the hands of readers—on your terms. It’s not about chasing some industry ideal; it’s about choosing what works for your goals, your timeline, and the kind of writing life you want to build.

Talk about it

Whether you’re leaning one way or still sitting on the fence, you’re doing the brave work of bringing a story into the world. That counts for something.

Our community thrives on these conversations—not just for support, but for clarity.

Have you chosen your publishing path already? What helped you decide?

Or if you’re still in decision mode:

What questions are holding you back?What kind of support do you wish you had?

I’d love to hear where you’re at in your publishing journey, and see how we can support you every step of the way.

How a Scrivener Outline Can Rescue Your First Draft

If your manuscript feels more like a pile of spaghetti than a structured story, you are not alone. Many of my writer friends and writers I work with regularly admit that once their first draft is “done,” they have no idea what they’re actually looking at. The good news? You don’t have to have it all figured out. And tools like Scrivener can help you shape that beautiful mess into something coherent—without starting from scratch.

Why Your First Draft Feels Like Mush

Let’s normalize this: most first drafts are messy. They’re full of false starts, underdeveloped characters, scenes that go nowhere, and threads that vanish mid-page. But all of that is data. It’s raw material you can work with.

One of the participants in the Mastermind Sessions I lead every Wednesday recently said, “I just needed to see it all before I could figure out what I was trying to say.”

Sound familiar? You’re not off-track. You’re writing.

So how do you begin shaping that beautiful chaos into something you can actually work with?

Step One: Break It Into Scenes

Scenes are the building blocks of story. Not chapters. Scenes.

A scene is a certain number of people, in a specific place, at a specific time.

If any one of those changes—someone enters or exits, time jumps, or the location shifts—you’re in a new scene. Thinking in scenes makes it easier to:

Cut unnecessary fillers (“she tied her shoes and drove to the office”)Identify where the conflict or emotional stakes are lackingReorganize story flow

One of the reasons I love Scrivener is that you can drop 80,000 words into a file (or write by stream of consciousness) and then split your manuscript into scenes using the “Split at Selection” function. Yes, it takes a little time. Yes, it’s worth it.

(In case you don’t know – I have a library of over 40 short, to the point Scrivener tutorials I recorded for my writing community. You can access it here for $19.99)

Step Two: Get to Know Scrivener Outline Mode

Scrivener’s Outline Mode gives you a bird’s-eye view of your entire manuscript—perfect for overwhelmed writers. But first, you’ll need to create short synopses for each scene.

If you didn’t do that while drafting (most of us don’t), now’s the time. All it takes is a sentence or two so that you can easily recall what the scene is about.  One writer in our group used ChatGPT to help: she copied and pasted each scene and asked for a 1-2 sentence summary. Then she pasted those into Scrivener’s synopsis cards.

Once you’ve done that, Outline Mode lets you:

See the shape of your story at a glanceTrack scenes by character, theme, or timelineSpot plot holes, pacing issues, and inconsistenciesStep Three: Color-Code for Clarity

If you’re a visual thinker (and many of us are), color-coding in Scrivener can be a game-changer. You might:

Assign colors based on point of viewHighlight key themes (e.g., trauma, healing, betrayal)Group scenes by location or time period

One of the writers I work with had scenes about her protagonist’s past, her affair, and her current life. Once she color-coded them, she could instantly see how those threads braided (or didn’t) across the book. 

Optional But Useful: Export Your Scrivener Outline

Did you know you can export your Scrivener outline with the scene titles and summaries? 

This gives you a printable cheat sheet for revision—a huge help when you’re staring down 80,000+ words and wondering what’s what.

You Don’t Need to Fix It All In a Day

Revision is a process. Step by step, layer by layer. But having a tool like Scrivener—and a strategy for using it – can make the whole thing feel less daunting.

So if you’re staring at a mushy first draft wondering where to start, try this:

Break it into scenes.Summarize each one.Step back and look at the whole picture.

You might be surprised by how much you do know once the chaos is mapped out.

Need a little inspiration or guidance? Check out my blog where you’ll find tools, tips, and insights for every step of your writing journey.

Craft Questions in Writing: Do You Really Need That Scene?

In nearly every mastermind session we host inside the Mindful Writing Community, a few familiar questions pop up like clockwork:

“Do I really need this flashback?”
“Is my first page strong enough?”
“This scene feels flat, but I don’t know why…”

If you’ve found yourself asking any of these, welcome. You’re in excellent company. These craft questions are a normal part of writing—and especially rewriting. They show up most often when a writer is deep in the muck of revision, trying to shape raw pages into something meaningful.

Let’s walk through a few of these sticky spots and look at how other writers are handling them.

Craft Questions in Writing: Are Flashbacks Powerful or Problematic?

Flashbacks can be a gorgeous way to reveal backstory or deepen character motivation. But they can also disorient the reader—especially in the opening chapters.

If you drop a flashback before we even know who your character is or what they want, the story risks losing momentum before it really begins. 

That doesn’t mean flashbacks are off-limits. But they need to be anchored in the present storyline and driven by something specific. A sensory trigger. A conflict. A decision that evokes the past. One writer in our group recently cut a two-page memory dump and replaced it with a single, emotionally charged sentence. The result? We understood why the character was acting the way she did, without stopping the story cold.

First Pages: What Really Matters

Writers tend to either obsess over their first page—or avoid it altogether.

But the truth is, your opening only needs to do a few specific things well. It doesn’t need to summarize your whole novel. It doesn’t need to be poetic perfection. It needs to hook the reader, establish voice, and give us a hint of what’s at stake.

In our Hooked from the Start sessions, we look at first pages all the time. And almost every successful one does this: it creates a question in the reader’s mind. Not necessarily a mystery, but something that makes us want to keep reading.

If you’re not sure your opening is working, ask:

Am I grounding the reader in place and time?Do we understand what the character wants (even if they don’t)?Is there tension—internal or external—on the page?

Hint: If your first scene starts with someone waking up and brushing their teeth, you might want to dig a little deeper.

Filler Scenes: How to Spot and Cut Them

Here’s a brutal truth: if you’re bored while writing a scene, your reader will be bored while reading it.

We’ve all been there. You know something has to happen, but the writing feels lifeless. The dialogue circles. The characters walk from one place to another with nothing meaningful exchanged. These are often transition scenes—or what we call “filler.”

How do you fix it?

One approach is to skip the scene entirely. Just write “TK” in the margin (journalism shorthand for “to come”) and move on. You can always circle back later with fresh eyes.

Another is to start the scene later. As in, three lines before the punchline. Cut the lead-up. Land in the middle of the moment. That trick alone has saved many a scene from the chopping block.

Or, combine scenes. If two back-to-back scenes have the same tone or purpose, ask: could they be one, tighter scene? Watch for places where your energy drops as a writer. That’s often your gut telling you something needs to change.

Tips From the Group: Handling Craft Questions in Writing

Some of our favorite revision hacks from the Mindful Writing Community:

Use action during dialogue to keep things moving.Cut the transitions—start at the conflict, not the commute.Read scenes aloud to catch clunky pacing or awkward phrasings.Write “TK” and keep going. Forward motion is everything.Reverse-outline after each draft to spot repetition or slow pacing.

Keep in mind that you don’t have to solve everything in one pass. Just identify where things drag and get curious about why.

Drop a comment or bring your questions to the next mastermind — I’d love to hear what you’re working through. Chances are, someone else is wrestling with the same thing—and together, you’ll find the next best step.

Writing Through the Hardest Scenes: 5 Techniques to Stay Confident

There’s a kind of writing that asks more of us than craft. It asks us to show up emotionally. To stay present with the hard stuff. To touch the places we would rather avoid.

In my previous article, we talked about why we avoid those scenes—the neuroscience, the emotional blocks, the ways our brain tries to protect us from discomfort. This week, I want to talk about how we keep going. Because here’s what I know for sure:

Those emotionally intense scenes? They often hold the very heart of your story.

They deserve to be written with care, confidence, and compassion—not brute force. So today, I’m sharing five techniques I’ve used in my own writing (and seen work for countless writers in the Mindful Writing Community) to help you stay grounded and keep writing through the hardest parts.

1. Establish a Safe Writing Ritual

Rituals might seem small, but they’re mighty.

Why it works: Your brain craves predictability. When you do the same thing before each writing session—light a candle, put on a favorite sweater, make a cup of tea—you’re sending a signal: this is a safe, familiar space.

Try this: Choose one small action to begin every session. Over time, it becomes a doorway—one that gently ushers you past the fear and into your story.

2. Break the Scene into Manageable Pieces

Sometimes we avoid a scene because it feels too big to hold all at once. The grief. The honesty. The emotional risk.

Why it works: When your nervous system senses overwhelm, it taps the brakes. But breaking the scene into chunks gives your brain space to breathe—and makes the work feel possible again.

Try this: Sketch out 3–5 beats of the scene. Then tackle one tiny piece at a time. Set a timer for 15 minutes. Write just the first beat. Then pause. Then decide if you want to continue or wait to come back to it later. 

3. Write from Curiosity, Not from Pain

You don’t have to relive your hardest experiences to write something emotionally true. You can come at it sideways—with softness, with curiosity.

Why it works: Pain can paralyze. But curiosity invites openness. When you get curious about what your character is feeling—what they’re afraid of, what they’re protecting—you shift out of fear and into exploration.

Try this: Instead of asking, “Why can’t I write this?” try “What does my character need right now?” You’re not performing trauma—you’re making meaning.

4. Ground Yourself Physically

Writing hard scenes is emotional work—and your body feels it.

Why it works: The brain’s threat response lives in the body. When you feel anxiety or resistance rising, grounding techniques pull you back to the present and signal safety.

Try this: Before you write, plant your feet flat on the floor. Take three slow breaths. Feel the chair beneath you. Keep a warm mug nearby. Touchstones like these remind your nervous system: I’m okay. I’m here. I can do this.

5. Don’t Write Alone

I say it all the time: writing is solitary, but it shouldn’t be isolating.

Why it works: When we write alongside others, even silently, something shifts. The fear softens. The shame lessens. We feel witnessed, even without words.

Try this: Reach out to a fellow writer. Schedule a time to write together, even if it’s over text. Or simply find a quiet time in your day when you know others in your writing circle might be doing the same. Knowing someone else is out there, doing the same hard thing, can help you keep going. (And of course, you’re always welcome to come check out our Mindful Writing Community.)

Putting It All Together

These tools aren’t about pushing through the pain. They’re about building a practice that supports your nervous system, your creative voice, and your emotional capacity.

Avoidance doesn’t mean you’re a bad writer. It just means your brain is doing its job—trying to protect you from discomfort.

But growth comes when you learn to say: “Thank you, fear—I’ve got this.”

And you do. You’ve got this.

If you want to take this further, you might set aside a little extra time this week to revisit one of your hardest scenes—with a gentler mindset and one new tool in hand. You don’t have to tackle the whole thing. Just dip in. Start small. Be curious. See what shifts.

These practices aren’t just about getting the words down—they’re about caring for yourself in the process.

Because your hardest scenes might just be your most powerful ones.

Talk About It

Have you tried any of these techniques before? What helps you write through the hard parts?

Bonus prompt: Think about the scene you’ve been avoiding—what happens if you don’t write it? And what might become possible if you do?

If this resonated with you, I’d love to hear what came up. Leave a comment on the blog—your thoughts, stories, and questions are always welcome. Let’s keep this conversation going. I’m cheering you on, every step of the way.

Understanding Why You Avoid Difficult Scenes

There’s a particular kind of stuck that shows up when we approach the most emotionally intense moments in our stories. It’s not the kind of stuck that comes from not knowing what happens next because often, we do know. We’ve pictured the scene. We’ve felt its weight. And still, we can’t seem to write it.

You sit down with every intention of getting words on the page… and then you check your email. Or start cleaning the kitchen. Or scroll through your phone. That scene – the one you’ve been avoiding – keeps tugging at the back of your mind. The breakup. The loss. The confrontation. The truth finally spoken aloud.

Here’s what I want you to know: you’re not being lazy. This isn’t a failure of discipline or talent. What’s happening is your brain is trying to protect you. That resistance you feel? It’s not random, it’s a built-in response to emotional discomfort.

But avoidance doesn’t mean you’re not ready. It doesn’t mean you’re not brave or capable or good enough.

What I’ve learned both in my own writing and through years of conversations in the Mindful Writing Community is this: you’re not stuck because you’re doing something wrong. You’re stuck because your nervous system is doing exactly what it’s designed to do – shielding you from perceived danger. The trick is learning how to write anyway, with tools that keep you grounded and safe.

Why Resistance Shows Up When the Scene Matters Most

Neuroscience tells us that the brain is wired for survival. It doesn’t distinguish between physical danger and emotional discomfort, so when you sit down to write a scene that stirs up vulnerability, grief, or old trauma, your brain perceives a threat.

It’s no surprise then that your nervous system might go into fight-flight-freeze mode. Avoidance is your brain’s way of hitting the brakes.

This is especially true if the scene touches something personal. Maybe it mirrors a real moment in your life. Maybe it feels like you’re exposing something private. Maybe it just hurts.

Research in trauma-informed writing and creativity (like the work of Dr. Bessel van der Kolk and Julia Cameron) supports what many of us feel intuitively: emotional blocks are often physiological. The fear isn’t just in your thoughts—it’s in your body.

Some common reasons this resistance shows up:

Fear of inadequacy — “What if I can’t do this justice?”Fear of overwhelm — “What if I fall apart while writing it?”Fear of exposure — “What if people see too much of the real me in this?”

When those fears get loud, the avoidance kicks in. That scene that needs to be written becomes the one thing you never seem to get to.

But the paradox is: these are often the scenes that matter most. They carry the emotional truth of your story. And that’s what readers remember.

Resistance Isn’t a Sign You’re Doing It Wrong

Every writer I know, especially those who’ve gone on to publish, has hit this wall.

I’ve had clients say, “I’ll write anything else but this chapter.” I’ve said it myself. Sometimes, I’ve opened a document and just stared at the scene, paralyzed by my own self-doubt.

That’s when I remind myself of something I once heard from Brené Brown: “You can’t get to courage without walking through vulnerability.”

And writing a difficult scene? That’s vulnerability on the page.

So if you’re feeling stuck, you’re not off-track—you’re exactly where the good stuff lives. You don’t need more willpower. You need a few supportive tools and a way to remind your brain: this is safe.

Three Gentle Strategies That Actually Work

Here are a few tools I return to again and again – and that I often recommend to both writer friends and writers I work with:

1. Name your fear

Take five minutes and write down what you’re avoiding and why. Is it about how readers will perceive it? Is it about bringing up something painful? Getting specific helps reduce the emotional fog.

2. Use mindfulness to calm your nervous system

Before you write, pause. Place your feet flat on the floor. Take three slow, full breaths. When you exhale slowly, you send a message to your brain: I am safe. I am grounded. This is not an emergency.

3. Draft imperfectly (on purpose)

This one has saved me more times than I can count. Give yourself full permission to write a imperfect version of the scene. Rambling, messy, overly dramatic—whatever. The goal is simply to get it out. You can revise later. But you have to give yourself something to work with first.

As Anne Lamott famously said: “Almost all good writing begins with terrible first efforts. You need to start somewhere.”

Brave the Page

So here’s my invitation: don’t shame yourself for avoiding the difficult scenes. Instead, try getting curious. What might be waiting for you on the other side?

Because in my experience, those are the pages where the story starts to glow.

What’s one emotionally charged scene you’ve been avoiding?

Do you know what’s holding you back—or is it just a vague sense of dread?

Have you found ways to move through that resistance?

Bonus prompt: Share a time you finally wrote a scene you’d been avoiding. What helped you face it?

Drop me a note if this hits home—I’d love to hear your thoughts.

From Shi**y First Draft to Something Worth Sharing

If you’ve ever typed “The End” and immediately wanted to hide your manuscript under your bed, you’re in good company. Revising a first draft might be the most daunting part of the writing process — especially because so many writers assume it should somehow feel easier. You’ve done the hard part already, right?

Not quite.

Personally, I find revision to be where the real magic happens — but also where all my doubts come rushing in. And I’m not alone. Inside our Mindful Writing Community mastermind sessions, this topic comes up all the time. It’s tender ground for a lot of us.

Why Revising a First Draft Feels So Overwhelming

There’s a reason so many of us freeze when we think about rewriting our book. A first draft is raw. It’s full of inconsistencies, half-developed characters, clunky scenes, and plot threads that disappear mid-sentence. After pouring months (or years) into getting words on the page, the thought of tearing it all apart again can feel devastating.

In recent mastermind sessions, I’ve heard writers say things like:

“My draft is more like a pile of scenes than a story.”“I wrote it all down, but now I hate it.”“I know it’s bad, but I don’t even know where to start.”

If that sounds familiar — you’re not broken, you’re revising.

Even published authors go through round after round of rewrites. It’s common practice in the publishing industry for manuscripts to undergo multiple revisions before reaching their final form. I’ve said it before: my first draft of 142 Ostriches looked nothing like the final version. Characters were missing. Entire scenes were out of order. But that’s the work — shaping something rough into something readable.

Revision isn’t a sign of failure — it’s a rite of passage.

Where to Start: Big Picture First

One strategy shared by Erin LaRosa, a wonderful romance writer who joined us in one of our sessions, is to resist the urge to dive into line edits too soon. Instead, she recommends sharing your first draft with a couple of trusted readers and asking for only big-picture notes. Plot holes. Flat characters. Boring sections. Places they wanted to stop reading.

This kind of feedback helps you see patterns. If three people ask why your protagonist doesn’t just call someone instead of driving across the country, that’s a clue. One writer in our group shared a scene where her character abruptly leaves town without saying goodbye to a close friend. Multiple readers flagged it as emotionally confusing — why wouldn’t she say goodbye? It turned out the writer had cut a key motivation scene in an earlier draft. By restoring a brief but powerful moment that revealed the character’s fear of goodbyes, the scene clicked into place.

And if you don’t feel ready to share? Start with this:

Write out what each main character wants.Keep that note next to you and make sure every chapter moves forward based on what they want.

This simple clarity has helped me many times when I felt lost in the middle of a revision.

Some Favorite Revision Tactics From our Mindful Writing Community 

Here are a few favorite strategies that have come up in our community:

Note cards on the wall with plot points, themes, and emotional arcs.Read aloud slowly to catch awkward phrasing and pacing issues.Highlight sections where you feel bored, stuck, or detached — those probably need to go or be rewritten.Don’t be afraid of a page-one rewrite. Yes, it’s hard. But sometimes it’s the only way to make the story you meant to tell actually come through.Reverse outline your draft. Go through each chapter and write a one-line summary. It can help you spot pacing problems and inconsistencies in the story arc.Use a story structure framework like Save the Cat, Three Act Structure, or The Hero’s Journey to analyze where your beats land and whether they build effectively.

One of the writers said, “I’m 50 pages into my ‘revision’ and I’ve kept maybe three sentences from the original draft. But it’s better now. It’s actually the book I wanted to write.”

That right there is the magic.

Talk About It

Here are some questions to think about, or to bring up with a writer friend for discussion:

What’s been your biggest hurdle in revising a first draft?

Do you lean on community feedback, or do you like to make a full pass solo before showing anyone?

And how do you know when a draft is ready enough to send to beta readers or agents?

Bonus prompt: Have you ever revised a scene so dramatically it felt like a totally new story? Share a before-and-after example or a tip that helped you transform a rough section into something you’re proud of.

Stop Rewriting and Start Finishing

There’s a moment in every writing journey when forward momentum gives way to circling.

You rewrite chapter one.
You second-guess the voice.
You get stuck on a timeline.
You tweak the same three pages… again.

Suddenly, finishing your novel feels farther away than when you started.

If this sounds familiar, know this: you’re not alone. And more importantly, you’re not broken. Circling is part of the process. The trick is not to get stuck there. 

Let’s talk about how to stop rewriting and start moving forward again and finally finish your first draft.

Why We Circle Instead of FinishingBecause We Want It to Be Good – Right Now

Writers care deeply. That’s the good news.
Unfortunately, vigilance often turns into perfectionism. We want the first chapter to shine. We want the voice to be just right. We want readers to love it before we’ve even finished the thing.

But the truth is, first drafts aren’t meant to be brilliant. They’re meant to exist. You can’t revise what you haven’t written. Finishing requires a shift in thinking. Let it be messy. Let it be clunky. That’s not failure, it’s forward movement.

Because Life Is a Lot

Most writers I work with aren’t just writers. They’re parents. Caregivers. People with jobs, families, health challenges, demanding pets, or all of the above.

When energy is limited, circling back to what’s familiar feels productive. Revisiting chapter one doesn’t ask you to risk as much as writing chapter twenty.

But the truth is, the messy middle won’t clean itself up until you write your way through it.

The Mindset Shift That Changes Everything“Right Now, It’s Like This”

This is a mantra we come back to often in the Mindful Writing Community. When everything feels messy, uncertain, or overwhelming, we pause and say:

“Right now, it’s like this.”

It’s brilliant because it’s always true. Right now, it’s like this. Not forever. Not always. Just right now.

This moment doesn’t define your whole book. It’s just where you are today—and you get to begin again, as many times as you need.

“Give It a Kiss, Put It in the Drawer, Move On”

This is something I tell writers when they’re clinging too tightly to one section of their story.

If you’ve done the best you can with a scene (for now), give it a kiss, put it in the drawer, and move on.

Will it need revision later? Probably. But the only way to revise a complete story… is to have a complete story. Keep going.

What You Can Control (Even When Life Is Busy)Time Blocks That Actually Work

You don’t need a three-hour writing window to make progress. You really don’t.

Even 20 minutes of focused writing is enough to re-enter the world of your story. A single sentence is enough to keep the thread alive.

It’s not about writing perfectly, it’s about showing up consistently.

Community Keeps You Accountable

When you’re writing alone, it’s easy to stall. Easy to question everything. Easy to stop.

That’s why being in community matters. A good writing group won’t just celebrate your wins, they’ll help you keep going when it’s hard. They’ll remind you that your voice matters, even when your inner critic gets loud.

You don’t have to write alone. In fact, most people finish faster when they don’t.

Clear, Compassionate Goals

Set goals that make sense for your life.
Not fantasy goals – real ones.

30 minutes, three days a week.
A thousand words by Friday.
One chapter by the end of the month.

And when you hit those goals? Celebrate. Even if it’s a quiet little fist pump while you close your laptop. That counts.

Stop the Circle, Start Finishing

There’s a moment in every writing journey when forward momentum gives way to circling.

You rewrite chapter one.
You second-guess the voice.
You get stuck on a timeline.
You tweak the same three pages… again.

Suddenly, finishing your draft feels farther away than when you started.

If this sounds familiar, know this: you’re not alone. And more importantly, you’re not broken. Circling is part of the process. The trick is not to get stuck there. 

Let’s talk about how to stop rewriting and finally finish your first draft.

Ready to Move Forward? Let’s Do It Together

If you’ve been circling your draft, it’s okay. Truly. You’re not behind—you’re just in it.

But if you’re ready to break the loop and finally finish your first draft, I’d love to support you.

Finish Your First Draft is a coaching program designed for real-life writers—parents, professionals, creatives with busy schedules—who want to stop rewriting and start finishing.

There’s structure. There’s support. There’s space to write exactly the way you need to.

Because your story is worth finishing. And you don’t have to do it alone.

Why Finishing Your First Draft Feels Impossible

There’s nothing quite like the excitement of starting a new novel. The rush of inspiration, the characters coming to life in your mind, the feeling that this might just be the story you were meant to write.

But then, somewhere along the way, that momentum slows. The middle gets messy. Doubt creeps in. And suddenly, the thing you were so excited about feels… impossible.

If you’re nodding along, you’re not alone. Finishing a book is hard, but not because you lack talent or discipline. It’s hard because writing a novel is big. It takes time, persistence, and, most of all, a clear strategy to move forward.

Here’s why most writers struggle to finish their drafts and what you can do to change that.

1. You’re Stuck in Endless Revisions

One of the biggest traps writers fall into is trying to perfect the beginning before moving forward. You write the first few chapters, then rewrite them. Then tweak them again. Before you know it, months have passed, and you’ve barely moved past chapter three.

The fix? Write forward. Drafting is different from editing, and the first draft is supposed to be messy. Let it be imperfect. Accept that some sections will need heavy revision later. Your job right now is to finish the draft – polishing comes later.

“You can always edit a bad page. You can’t edit a blank page.” – Jodi Picoult

This is the key to finishing. Give yourself permission to write badly. A messy draft is still progress, but an unwritten one will never move forward.

2. You’ve Lost Momentum

Maybe you started strong, but somewhere in the middle, things got murky. The excitement wore off. The plot isn’t quite working. You find yourself avoiding your draft.

This happens to almost every writer at some point. The trick is to keep showing up anyway. Set small, attainable goals. Instead of saying, “I need to write 50,000 words,” try, “I’ll write for 30 minutes today.” Progress is progress, even if it’s slow.

And if your story really isn’t working? Go back to your outline (or create one) and remind yourself why you wanted to write this book in the first place.

3. You’re Not Sure How to End It

A strong ending doesn’t just happen, it’s built through structure. If you’re struggling to bring your story to a close, take a step back and ask:

What has my protagonist learned or overcome?What’s the emotional resolution of the story?How can I create a satisfying payoff for the themes I’ve been building?

Sometimes, clarity comes from talking through your ideas with other writers or getting outside feedback. Writing might be a solitary act, but finishing a book doesn’t have to be something you do alone.

4. You’re Writing in Isolation

One of the biggest challenges writers face is the feeling of going at it alone. It’s easy to lose motivation when you don’t have support or accountability.

Successful writers – those who actually finish their books often have one thing in common: they surround themselves with other writers. Whether it’s a writing group, a critique partner, or a structured program, having a support system can be the difference between a finished draft and one that sits untouched for months (or years).

 (If you’re looking for support on this front check out my online writing community – it’s a wonderful group of writers.)

5. You’re Waiting for the “Right Time”

“I’ll finish my book when I have more time.”

Sound familiar? The problem is, there’s never a perfect time. Life will always be busy. Responsibilities will always demand your attention.

The key is to stop waiting for a magical moment of uninterrupted time and start creating small, consistent writing habits now. Even if it’s just 20 minutes a day, progress happens when you commit to the work.

Finishing Your First Draft is Possible

If you’re feeling stuck, remember this: every writer struggles. Every writer doubts themselves at some point. But the ones who finish? They find ways to push through.

Maybe that means setting clearer goals. Maybe it means shifting your mindset around drafting. Or maybe it means finding a writing community that holds you accountable and helps you keep going.

Wherever you are in your writing journey, know this: your story matters. And you can finish your book.

All it takes is the right approach and a little bit of support.

If you’ve been struggling to finish your draft, take a moment to reflect: what’s really holding you back? What would help you move forward?

Sometimes, all it takes is a shift in strategy, structure, or accountability to make the difference between another unfinished draft and finally typing The End.

Don’t Wait to Build Your Author Platform

Let’s be honest, none of us got into writing because we couldn’t wait to build an author platform. No one wakes up thinking, “You know what sounds fun? Setting up a website and learning about lead magnets.” But if you want your work to find readers, having a clear, visible presence online is no longer optional. (Take it from my friend Catherine, who learned this the hard way.)

When I first started writing, I believed the platform would come later – after the manuscript was done, after I landed an agent, after I had something to show for myself. But what I’ve come to understand, and what I remind every writer I work with  – is this: your platform isn’t something you build after you become a writer. It’s part of the becoming.

What Is an Author Platform (And Why It Matters)?

At its core, an author platform is your ability to connect with readers. It’s not about shouting into the void or mastering every social channel—it’s about being findable and establishing trust. Your platform might include:

A clean, professional websiteA simple newsletter A consistent, authentic presence on one social platformPodcast interviews, guest posts, community involvement

And yes – it really does matter.

As literary agent Mark Gottlieb of Trident Media Group explains:

“I am finding more and more that a platform is becoming important to fiction writing, whereas in the past it was mostly important to nonfiction authors.”

In today’s publishing landscape, agents and editors alike are looking for authors who can connect with readers and a strong platform gives them confidence that your work will find its audience. Whether you’re writing fiction or nonfiction, building your visibility early can make all the difference.

If someone reads something you’ve written and wants more, their first step is usually to Google you. And if they find… nothing? That’s a missed opportunity. I’ve lost count of how many writers I’ve wanted to follow, only to come up short when trying to stay connected.

My Wake-Up Call

I still remember attending a writers’ conference years ago and overhearing an agent say, “It doesn’t have to be a huge platform, but I want to see that the writer is doing something to build their audience.” That moment shifted my thinking. I didn’t need tens of thousands of followers. I just needed a place people could find me, and a way to stay in touch.

So I went home, built a basic website, and started a once-a-month newsletter. That was more than a few years ago. I had no idea then how those small steps would help shape my writing career.

Your Platform Can Be a Creative Act

One of the most freeing things I’ve learned is that your author platform can actually support your creativity. It doesn’t have to be a chore. For me, writing blog posts helped me clarify my voice between drafts. My newsletter became a space for connecting with other writers. Even my website evolved into a home base where I could share updates and offer resources.

Instead of trying to market yourself, think of it as inviting others into your creative process. That mindset shift changes everything.

Be Ready When Opportunity Comes

Here’s the thing: readers, agents, and editors are all more likely to take interest in your work if they can find you. You don’t need to wait for a book deal to start making yourself visible. In fact, being discoverable before your book is ready can help build momentum that makes the path to publication smoother.Start collecting the names of people who love your writing – even if your book is years away from publication. I started my newsletter a decade before 142 Ostriches hit the shelves. I didn’t know it would take that long, but I was so grateful to have that list when the time came.

Your Author Platform Starts with a Single Step

Building your author platform isn’t just about visibility – it’s also a signal to yourself that you’re taking your writing seriously. When you create a space that reflects your voice, values, and creative direction, it helps you step more confidently into your identity as a writer. You’re not waiting to be discovered—you’re laying the groundwork so that when opportunities come, you’re ready to meet them fully.

If you’ve been waiting for the “right time” to start building your author platform, consider this your sign. Don’t wait until you feel ready. Don’t wait until someone else tells you it’s time.

Start small. Stay consistent. And remember, it’s not about being everywhere, it’s about being findable and genuine.

And if you’re looking for support to finally get this part of your writing career handled, I’d love to help. My team and I are offering just a few, exclusive Author Platform VIP Days in the coming weeks. Click here to learn more.

Whether you work with me, or put it all together on your own, feel free to share your website/blog/social media accounts in the comments below so I (and anyone else reading here) can come read/follow/support you.