What If? By Carla Damron, weary novelist

I’ve written about my latest project, currently titled, Bird on Limb. I might have described it as an octopus, a monster, and a cause of constant headache. Or, I might have relayed utter exhilaration as the characters came to life and told me their tales, how the words exploded onto the page, how I LOVED being a writer.

It’s been that kind of roller coaster.

So, after draft three, I sent it to several trusted readers and workshopped it in my writing class. They pointed out a few problems, some of which weren’t too difficult to address. But larger issues also emerged, for example, “this work lacks focus.”

I’d have been mad if it wasn’t true. The problem was, as I’d gotten to know these characters and tried to braid their stories, I realized that they diverged more than they merged. And how would I classify this mess? Women’s fiction? Yes. Crime fiction? Yes.

But in too many ways, it fit neither category.

I realized I needed another rewrite, and before I did that, I had decisions to make. What exactly WAS Bird on Limb? If I opted to define it as crime fiction, I’d need to remove plot threads that didn’t relate to or enhance the mystery elements. If I opted to call it women’s fiction, then the crime fiction plots would only dilute the story. Something had to go.

This led to a key element in the writing process: MULLING.

And mulling led to a conclusion: I wanted this to be crime fiction. Not your traditional mystery, mind you, because it’s too weird to be that, but a mystery, nonetheless.

Okay, I had direction now. First edit: remove storylines not related to the crime fiction threads. Uh oh. One of my favorite characters, who had an entire story arc, didn’t connect with the mystery element.

She had to be go.

I could have cried.

Instead, I surgically removed her sections from the novel and stored them in a separate file. I hope to use her later. Honestly, I’d better, because that woman isn’t going away quietly.

Next step: tighten the mystery. In truth, there are two: a crime that happened in the late 1960s and a second one that occurs present day. “You’ll need to tie these two crimes together somehow,” my wise writing instructor said.

Crappola. This is a challenge. How do I connect them in a way that isn’t horrifically contrived?

Solution: a long talk with one of my readers/editors. We played the “what if” game. What if X is older than he is now? What if he knew Y? What if the person involved in the present-day crime was somehow a witness to the historical crime? What if? What IF?

This conversation got my creativity bubbling. I don’t know the answer yet, but I know it’s possible to link these two crimes and to do it in a believable way. It simply requires more mulling and plotting and rewriting and…

It’s doable though. Right? I can find the thread that ties the mysteries together, and still have my braided narratives. I can keep the readers engaged in both storylines and toss in a little social justice along the way. I can finish this octopus of a novel and find a publisher who wants to publish it.

Right?

I sure hope so. Because I’m doomed to remain a writer, no matter how hard it is. Maybe we’re all masochists, but we can reach out to the writing community to support, guide, and champion us, to play the “what if” when we need it.  

I’ve shared a bit about my crazed what-the-hell-am-I-doing writing process. What’s yours like? Do you have trusted writing allies who help you?