There's a little known secret we writers like to keep to ourselves, because we fear that if word
got out, readers would immediately become disillusioned and abandon us. It's not as bad as a
reviewer spoiling a twist in the plot of a book, I suppose. Those people should be tarred with
onion dip, feathered with potato chips and released to a crowd of hungry football fans on the day of
the Super Bowl. But it is a little like the magician showing you how he fooled you.
Here's the secret: stories are rarely written from beginning to end without hitting rough spots
along the way.
This might sound obvious, but if you're a good writer it should never be obvious to the reader.
Your stories should read seamlessly. I know the process is anything but seamless. Piecing
Frankenstein's monster together was less daunting. You've got stitches all over the page. Scotch
tape. Different colored inks. Scribbles in the margins. Stop and goes. And this is your third
draft. But after that final draft, all of this must be invisible to the reader.
What you should take away from this is the understanding that you have incredible freedom as a
writer. No one has to ever see your early drafts, your wastepaper basket full of crumpled paper,
that climax that was so ingenious when you first thought of it but turned out to be a cliché on the
page. Those are yours to keep. No one need ever read them.
The process doesn't have to be painful, either. In fact, if you remove some of the constraints you
place on yourself as a writer, it can be down right enjoyable. For instance, you don't always have
to write a story from beginning to end. Connie Willis likes to write her endings first, then write
the story back toward the beginning. Jeffrey Deaver prefers to spend months working out every
detail of his story in an outline, with specific places for twists. Dean Koontz, who used to
outline his stories, now lets his characters provide the impetus for his books. He follows along
behind and lets himself experience surprise much as his readers will.
Every writer has to find what works best for him. And every writer has to understand that what
works best for this story might not work best for the next. Don't be afraid to experiment. Don't
be afraid to let go and see where it takes you. (This will, of course, be easier if you stuff a
dirty sock into the mouth of that little editor sitting on your shoulder. You know who I'm talking
about. He's the one who never has anything nice to say. So do that now. Dig out a dirty sock and
use it.)
What I'd like you to take away from this is the comfort that a word on a piece of paper (or on a
computer screen, for that matter) is not the same as a word etched in stone. It's okay to work on
the description of a character until you get restless, then toy with the opening sentence or try
reworking the dialogue in that early scene. It's okay to toss out pages, try different words, add
scenes. Tinkering goes hand-in-hand with creativity.
And again … no one will ever know.
It may resemble Frankenstein's monster to you, but all the reader will see is a living, breathing
story.
Just don't forget to pull the stitches before you're finished.