Step Seven: The Daily Grind (80K and Breaking the Back of the Book)
There’s a moment with every book where the months of work, thought, planning, gnashing of teeth, and other vagaries of the process culminate in a single lightning strike, and I can *see* the book. From beginning to end, it’s all there in my head, a living, breathing thing. Not just as a story or an amalgamation of characters or an elevator pitch or a fuzzy attempt to explain what it’s about, but as something you will eventually (hopefully!) read. I can see the whole of it in ways that were previously shrouded. The structure reveals itself. It gets a cadence, depth, it’s own sense of place in the creative universe.
Not only that, I can finally envision your reactions, what you might like and hate, and what will fix or enhance your interaction. And with that, I can see the path to the end. I realize the mistakes I’ve made in the story—where I’ve telegraphed the plot twists or a red herring is too much. When I can enjoy the lines of sublime beauty—the darlings some editors make you murder—and dread the choppy waters that desperately need smoothing so you don’t see what dark things lurk beneath the surface.
Photo by Chris Chan on Unsplash
