Plotting (... My Demise?)

For the good writer, nothing is easier than making up possible stories. If pushed, he can spin them out hour after hour, each one of them theoretically sound—a sequence of events leading to some climax, or, in longer narratives, an episodic sequence of climaxes.... But of the thiry plots he can think up in an hour, only one—if even that— will catch and hold his interest, make him want to write.

- John Gardner, The Art of Fiction, p. 61

I remember discovering the basic plot of Son of A Saint. I remember thinking how someone should write that novel. A couple of months later, when it suddenly dawned on me that maybe I should be the one to do that writing, it was a joyous (if obvious) revelation. Over the next several weeks, I thought a lot about it and was well on my way to filling up a notebook filled with plot points, character development, and general thoughts about how to approach the book.

All of this was shot to hell when I lost the notebook containing all this valuable information. Sometimes you can recover from losses like this: I never fretted too much when I didn't get a song melody or lyric out of my head and into some more permanent medium because I knew there were always a ton of ideas just as good to replace that one. That quote at the top of this entry, that's me to a T—when it comes to songwriting. But that notebook ... it was my Bible, my gold mine, and there was only one of them, and so much material had been poured into it while my brain was simply in "dump" mode that little of it could be remembered. I started another notebook, but I know there is a ton of material in there that could have made it into this story and probably never will.

I try not to think about this too much.

I'm digressing. What I want to talk about is plot. Unlike songwriting, where I feel expertly proficient and can create pretty decent gems from beginning to end, I have a (very typical) problem when it comes to stories, in that I can kick things off to a great premise, get things rolling, and then ... never be able to find that logical ending. Or—and this is the case with this book—I have my beginning and my ending, but connecting A to Z is a grind. I have two files on my computer: "Scenes Still to Be Written" and "Questions Still to Be Answered." And at this point, I've pretty much written everything I know is going to happen. The unwritten scenes are in that state because ... I just don't know what to do.

And the thing is, I know those unwritten scenes will naturally lead to more unwritten scenes, or, if the new material is good and should be kept, may require that I drastically rewrite other material to keep everything coherent and logical. One scene's rhythm may affect another scene's (or character's) emphasis. The philosophical implications of a moment in the first chapter may have devastating effects on a moment from an event two-thirds of the way through the book.

"All these considerations the author bears in mind, consciously or intuitively as he constructs his sequence of events leading to the climax," Gardner writes. "If his story plan is to be successful, he must rightly analyze what is logically necessary to the climax.... [I]f the plan of the story is to work, the writer's solutions to the problems involved in authenticating the climax must be credible and apt." Well, not just the climax, John; I would think that the writer would like every moment of his or her book to be "credible and apt."

When I lie in bed at night thinking about it—or when I'm driving, or walking, or pretty much doing anything, because there are days when this book completely obsesses my conscious and subconscious mind—I can so easily find myself overwhelmed. I trap myself in Walt's motivations, looking for my way out. Sadly, it's not always as easy as standing in the corner until the paint with which you've trapped yourself dries and then just walking out.

Most of the time, I cling to the idea that I can write my way out of this. Through sheer force of thinking, reading, and writing, I will find all the lost shards and glue them in the right place and make a whole masterpiece. Well, okay, I'd just settle for piece. And so I'll keep plugging away at these moments, trying to get this first draft done, and expect that when I start revising I'll be able to pull a lot of my glaring omissions and contradictions into line and make this kid march like a good soldier.

The belief that I will get this story finished, that I will end up with a story that connects all the dots ... I can't think of a better definition of faith.