Sagging Middles — Yours, Not Your Book’s
You're a writer. You know I'm not talking about that strip of stretched-out skin mothers wear as a badge of honor hanging from our waists.
But this time, I'm also not talking about the middle of your book, the Act II that accounts for about 50 percent of your words.
No, I'm talking about the Sagging Middle of one's personal journey to write a book.
I love drafting. I draft fast and loose, quality be hanged! I drafted 30,000 words in a weekend once, and when I finally found the courage to read them? They weren't utter drek. I know, I was surprised too.
Drafting is that zing! that comes with a brand-new spanking relationship — um, I meant brand spanking new relationship.
Whoo boy. Anyway, you know how it is when you're madly in love with someone new, and he can do no wrong. You can't stay focused on anything except … sigh … his pecs, or the way his hair curls a little just above his left ear, or how your skin shoots sparks when he touches your arm. It's hot! It's exciting! And it's easy! Yep, that's drafting.
Finishing the book is easy too. Those last few proofreads, where you're looking for two spaces after a period or a dropped quotation mark. Reading like that is a joy — you can see how the story sizzles, and those neat, clean rows of words are a tribute to your work.
Oh, sorry. You don't know about that? The joy of one final proofread? Right. You're probably stuck in the sagging middle of writing a book.
Just as Act II of the book fills half the word count, the sagging middle of your writer's journey eats 50 percent of the time you'll spend on the book. Or 90 percent. It's a looooong, slow slog.
Friends ask if you've sold your novel, and you have to say “I'm still revising it.” The polite ones just nod, but you can see them thinking, “That's what you said last year!” In chapter eight, there's a scene you've deleted and replaced so many times that you can never remember anymore, without looking, whether it's in or out. Your mother wants a copy, but you can't give her one because in the current version, the protagonist has 14 brothers and sisters until chapter 17, when you changed your mind and made her a lonely, only child.
You're stuck in your own sagging middle.
A year ago, I took a week-long novel-writing workshop from mentor extraordinaire Donald Maass. I left rejuvenated, and bubbling over with ideas for how to make my novel sing: add an inner journey, delete a sub-plot, combine two characters, and rearrange all the scenes to avoid backstory in the first 50 pages, etc.
Day after day, I climbed the stairs to my garret office and sat at my computer. I’d go through my routine, those magical steps that tell my brain it’s time to work: get a big glass of Diet Coke, check my email, read a few blog entries, and write something related to writing (a blog entry, a letter to another author, a synopsis, etc.). Then I’d open my manuscript and …
… stare at the screen. Most days, I checked my email again. I’d write another blog entry. I’d catch up on all my blog reading and find a couple of new ones to follow. Then I’d go back to the manuscript and stare.
Email again. Pop in to Facebook and MySpace. Think about signing up for Linked-In and Twitter. Back to the manuscript. Email. Read all the new messages on the Yahoo groups I (don’t actually manage to) follow. Google all my old boyfriends. Nope, gotta work, Katrina! Remember? Your great manuscript? Open the manuscript and stare at the screen.
When I found myself playing Peggle for hours, I knew I needed help, so I hired a Life Coach.
“You can’t revise a novel,” Tanya said.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” I replied. “Of course I can! I’ve done it before. I’ve done it with this novel.”
“Revising a novel is too big a job,” she said. “It’s overwhelming. Nobody can do it.”
What a relief! I wasn’t a loser at all. I was just tackling an impossible job, a job no one in the history of man or even womankind had ever done. Except … hello! … people do it all the time.
“What you can do,” she said, “is check chapter one for passive verbs.”
Eureka! “What I can do is make a scene card for the first scene,” I said. “And then the second.”
“Exactly,” Tanya said.
“And I can highlight everything Jessy says and read through just her statements, to make sure her voice is consistent!” I knew what needed to be done.
“Whoa! One step at a time,” she said.
With her encouragement, I broke the impossible task into smaller bits. I estimated how long each step would take. Then I set deadlines for myself.
I didn’t make all my self-imposed deadlines. Some of my estimates were too optimistic, and sometimes life just gets in the way (I spent an entire month trapped at home by snow, floods and sickness – with children!). But I finished that killer edit Nov. 30, exactly the date I'd set for myself.
After letting the book sit for a week, I read it in one sitting. The scenes that had been fine before – scenes I hadn’t touched – paled in comparison to the sparkling new versions of the scenes that had been weak. So I’m doing another edit, to bring all (or at least most) of the scenes up to the level of the best ones.
But I’m through the sagging middle. Now I run up my stairs in the morning, eager to work. Instead of seeking distractions, I ignore all the tasks that have nothing to do with writing, even important ones (note to self: schedule mammogram and pap smear as soon as you finish this edit). And I haven't played Peggle in months.
So if you’re struggling, remind yourself you can’t revise a novel. Nobody can.
But you can check chapter one for passive verbs. And push right past your sagging middle.
Katrina, what excellent advice! I’m convinced all writers have some form of ADD. A psychologist gave me this advice when working with my daughter: You can’t tell someone with ADD to just do something, like “Clean your room.” They’ll start with the best intention but get distracted. The big task has to be broken down into smaller, logical tasks. For instance, her stuff animals are strewn all over the bed, and books are laying in the floor so you can’t walk without stepping on one.
First instruction: Pick your books off the floor and stack them in the corner.
Second: Line your stuffed animals up on their shelf.
Third: Make your bed.
When editing and revising, this is terrific advice. Break the task down into smaller, logical bits, just like you did. Pick out the steps you need to do and make a list. Do each step and mark it off your list. By the time you’re done, you’ll have wonderful pecs and abs in that book and you can celebrate by finally sending it out! Now…I really should take your advice (and my own!). I’m going to go make my bed now. LOL.
ADD, Silver? It’s ADD that makes me this way? But I don’t … oh, Look! Something shiny!
I’d never heard that advice before about ADD, though it’s certainly what we had to do with my oldest son (he was never diagnosed with anything, and I don’t think he has ADD, but he definitely leans that way on the spectrum). I read an article yesterday that said the older we get, the more tendencies we all have toward short attention spans. So I suppose the advice is even more helpful to those of us who are … ahem … of an certain age.
Whatchu talkin’ ’bout, Katrina? Old? Not me! *wanders off* *gigglesnorts* I’m older than dirt and I maintain all my….my….what’s that word?
Mine DD is borderline and we worked on focusing techniques rather than drugs. The funny thing during the testing process? We were supposed to fill out a survey about her behavior. As I was making check marks, I jept thinking: Me, me, husband, me, husband, husband, both, both, both, both…. And he was doing the same thing. Then we had to go back and do it for her!
What a lot of people don’t realize about ADD (as opposed to ADHD), people with it can become incredibly focused on one thing. For hours. So long as there are no…Oooh, shinies! LOL.
All kidding aside, I really do think that there is some hard wiring in a writer’s brain that lets us do what we do.
ROFL!!!!! My family is well afflicted with what we call Shiny New Object Syndrome. You can be going along your day, doing the normal things you do and suddenly, Ooohhhhh…what’s the sheen? What’s that glimmer? It’s so pretty? It’s so FASCINATING…I must have it. I must do it. Hmm, what was my purpose here again?
Yes, although I rarely find this issue when I’m shopping, I constantly struggle with Shiny New Object Syndrome with ideas. It’s a conscious effort to refocus my efforts and think, Now, does this REALLY meet my big goals? Does it help me meet my objectives? Some times it does, and others it doesn’t. (And believe it or not, Katrina, Second Life does. It really does. LOL)
Great first post and welcome to the blog!
Thanks for the welcome, Jeannie! I can believe that SL really does help meet objectives. Shiny objects everywhere you look!
Seriously, it does for me too. One of things I’ve been working on is balance — I’m quick to cut all the fun out of my life, and then mope about it. So learning to play on SL and not feel guilty is definitely meeting objectives. Especially now that you’ve found Story Mountain. I can work and play. Multi-task, baby!
Silver, I wasn’t talking about you being a certain age! I meant, ME! Hilarious though, about you and your husband both thinking, “Me! You!” I’d heard that about ADD, that people can be totally absorbed in something they’re interested in.
Heck, if that’s a defining characteristic, then I must have ADD too. The house could burn down around me while I’m working, and as long as my laptop battery was charged, I wouldn’t notice.
“Email again. Pop in to Facebook and MySpace. Think about signing up for Linked-In and Twitter. Back to the manuscript. Email. Read all the new messages on the Yahoo groups I (don’t actually manage to) follow. Google all my old boyfriends. Nope, gotta work, Katrina! Remember? Your great manuscript? Open the manuscript and stare at the screen.”
LOL! Katrina, have you been looking over my shoulder? I’ve never heard of Linked-in before – but I am thinking about signing up for Twitter (Rachel Maddow’s there, you know).
Before I do, though, I’ll give some serious thought to your advice. I suspect that mastering your technique would make all the difference in the world to my (stalled – bigtime) writing efforts.
Thanks.
LOL, Sandra. Do NOT go to Linked-In. Don’t. Go. There. You already have Facebook and MySpace, so you don’t need it anyway.
Did you see Honoria’s post about Twitter? She highly recommended it, but “That’s how I spent a good chunk of January” scares me a little. OK, a lot.
Sounds like Twitter might have some benefit with promotion though. Tell you what, let’s make a deal. When we get a book contract, we can sign up for Twitter. What d’ya think?
And … oops, here I am. Distracted again by something shiny!
Yeah. Twitter probably isn’t a good idea unless you really know how to schedule you’re time. I lack self control so I’m on my networking site’s all the time. It’s probably a good idea to wait until you have a contract before you join. I thought about getting a Facebook, but I don’t have time for that, so…no.
I’m having a sagging something. Not sure if it’s a middle, but its something. I’m not getting any work done. It’s very frustrating. Again. I think it has something to do with all that networking. And apparently writer’s ADD.
Well, you see – I’m on Facebook, but not MySpace – so I could almost -almost justify joining Twitter. But I like your idea even better, Katrina. Incentive. That’s what I need. Thank you.
Sandra
off to read Honoria’s post.
I loved your advice, Katrina. I always think of that stage as tackling the passive-grammar-pacing-tweaking-fix every word-all in one terror filled process. That’s my editing. I have one critique partner who can go through her manuscripts in ONE go round and fix everything! When you read her first reading drafts, they are so clean I struggle to find stuff to comment on and wish like holy blazes I could edit like that. I have no clue how she does it. Unfortunately, then there’s me – who goes through mine four, five, six times because I just can’t focus on everything all at once. And my bane is spider solitaire – along with internet addictions to myspace, yahoo groups, twitter, family blog, etc. etc. and my best one . . . . playing legos with my grandson.
Also, I wanted to note that this syndrome exists in first drafts, too. Ever get to the middle of your draft and die, avoiding your desk because you can’t figure out where to take your story next. Lots of cures there, but the best one is a kitchen timer and 500 words at a time, because it’s really true that you can fix sucky words, but you can’t fix no words! Thanks for the great post.
Honoria, it’s not just you. And I wouldn’t call it a self-control problem. I think it’s human nature to avoid painful, difficult tasks. Every writer I know struggles with distractions. I suppose the point is to keep struggling.
Sandra: all right, it’s a deal. We get to tweet when we have a contract in hand!
Pattiann: I love your breathless “passive-grammar-etc.-etc.-every-word” sentence. That’s exactly what I feel. Your CP is just lucky. All the rest of us are like you, and have to do multiple drafts to get it right.
You’re absolutely right that the journey to the first draft has a sagging middle problem too. Once I get 35,000 words down on a book, I know I’m going to finish it. But until then? It’s touch and go. For me, Nanowrimo is the answer. When I write at that furious pace (50K in a month), I don’t have time to sag, and adrenaline pushes me right through.
For the other 11 months of the year, I have one better than your kitchen timer: Write or Die. You give the website your goal and a time period, and if you stop typing, it makes annoying noises at you. If you set it on electric shock mode, it starts deleting your words if you stop (I play “normal”). It’s surprisingly effective for keeping your fingers on the keyboard, clicking away.
I’m over here to read from your place, Katrina!
Yeah! Thanks for popping in, Kathryn!
Great advice, Katrina! I think I have adult-onset ADD … my attention span gets shorter and shorter. Anne Lamott’s advice about the one-inch picture frame helps me a lot when drafting, and your life coach’s advice about revising is in the same category.
I’m sorry to say, though, that the main idea I got from your post was to start googling old boyfriends…
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