Finding Your Story, or How to Get out of the Dark Wood When You’re Lost
By Kathleen McCleary | December 21, 2016 |
Flickr Creative Commons: Matthias
“In the middle of the journey of our life, I came to myself, in a dark wood, where the direct way was lost. It is a hard thing to speak of, how wild, harsh and impenetrable that wood was …”—Dante
Have you ever been really, truly lost? When my oldest daughter was just four weeks old, my husband and I flew across country to attend his brother’s wedding. I didn’t plan to go to the wedding—I couldn’t leave the baby for that long—but I did make it to the rehearsal dinner, then ducked out early so I could get back to nurse the baby. Only when I left the rehearsal dinner it was dark, and the roads that were barely familiar to me during the day in this town I didn’t live in weren’t recognizable at all at night. I didn’t have a cellphone or a navigation system in my car. What I did have was a hungry baby waiting for me at home, and a growing sense of desperation. I drove and drove and drove, through a rural backwoods without a gas station or store and few houses. At one point I pulled over by the side of the road and cried. I tried to turn around and retrace the route I’d driven, to get back to the rehearsal dinner, but I couldn’t find that either. Finally, after more than an hour of aimless driving, I saw a stone wall that looked familiar, then a street light, and I knew where I was. My baby was fine; I was fine. But I’ve never forgotten that sense of being utterly, hopelessly lost, without any idea where I was, where I was going, or where I had been.
This anecdote is an apt metaphor for what’s happened to me in the course of writing my fourth novel. I wrote 100 pages of a novel that neither my agent nor I liked very much, then put it away. I didn’t write for a while. Then I started a new novel, a novel I like very much, but 100 pages in I realized I was lost. My story was too complex; there were too many characters, too much drama, too many layers. I had no idea, really, where I was going—heck, I wasn’t even sure where I was.
So, as a seasoned hiker (and author), I did what you’re supposed to do when you’re lost:
- Stop moving and notice where you are. Read your manuscript all the way through. Look at where your characters are right now, and at what has transpired so far to bring them to this point. Does it make sense? Does it feel urgent? If someone asked you to sum up your story in sentence or two, could you do it? What would you say?
- Go back to the beginning. Why did you start writing this story? What was your original vision? Why was it important to you to tell this story? Review some of your original notes, or your earliest, roughest drafts of the first few chapters. How do they feel to you now?
- Consult your map and compass. Your map is your outline, or whatever your version of an outline is (for me it’s a rough—very rough—chapter by chapter synopsis). Has your story strayed? If so, are those different paths necessary and compelling and leading you in a better direction, or are you lost? Your compass is your inner compass, the thing in your gut that tells you “this is really good” or “this isn’t working.” Some parts of my fourth novel are the best writing I’ve ever done; other parts are mediocre at best. I want it ALL to feel like the best writing I’ve ever done. So I keep the parts I know in my gut are great; the rest is what I need to dig in and revise (or toss).
- Go to high ground and look around. Once my family and I went hiking in the Outer Hebrides of Scotland. We had a guidebook that included instructions like “look for a pile of stones and bear left” and sure enough, after walking for an hour or more we were lost. But we were also on a treeless, windswept island with few roads. My husband climbed to the top of the nearest hill, looked around, and spotted the road (before an angry ram chased him away) and we walked to the road and weren’t lost any more. Do the same thing with your story. Look at it from a distance, at the whole thing, and try to get your bearings. When you look at what you have, does the story have a natural arc? Is it clear who your character is? Can you see what your character wants, and how to get there?
How do you get your bearings again when you lose your story?
[coffee]
Kathleen McCleary is the author of three novels—House and Home, A Simple Thing, and Leaving Haven—and has worked as a bookseller, bartender, and barista (all great jobs for gathering material for fiction). A Simple Thing (HarperCollins 2012) was nominated for the Library of Virginia Literary Awards. She was a journalist for many years before turning to fiction, and her work has appeared in The New York Times, The Washington Post, Good Housekeeping, Ladies Home Journal, and USA Weekend, as well as HGTV.com, where she was a regular columnist. She taught writing as an adjunct professor at American University in Washington, D.C., and teaches creative writing to kids ages 8-18 as an instructor with Writopia Labs, a non-profit. She also offers college essay coaching (https://thenobleapp.com), because she believes that life is stressful enough and telling stories of any kind should be exciting and fun. When she’s not writing or coaching writing, she looks for any excuse to get out into the woods or mountains or onto a lake. She lives in northern Virginia with her husband and two daughters and Jinx the cat.
Funny, I blogged kind of on this topic this week myself! As a discover writer, when I do find myself lost or adrift, I will sometimes write up a quickie synopsis that can help me find plot holes or mushy spots. It can also help me think ahead to the things I haven’t written yet and give me some guidance on what should come next.
I do the same thing with writing a synopsis when I’m lost. Good point about looking AHEAD, too. Thanks!
I love the hiking analogies. Must remember those!
I love to hike, Barbara. Hiking offers good analogies for many things in life. ;-)
Your getting-lost story reminded me of one of my own, Kathleen, only I didn’t have a hungry baby waiting for me!! I did pull over and cry, though. I’ve done plenty of the writer’s version of that, stopping to bang on the steering wheel (keyboard?) and scream ‘how did I end up here?’ And then, of course, ‘where do I go now?’ I love the higher-ground suggestion (I also love the Hebrides!!). But here at home, I just walk, walk, walk. I try to step back from a roadblock for at least two day, more if I can. I have to flush old scenes and trajectories from my brain before I can see my way clear to a new one. It also helps to re-read my most recent outline, which changes as the story opens up. When that same story closes down, backtracking can help. But mostly it’s that mental distance that gets me out of the woods. Thanks for talking about this today!
Taking some TIME away to get perspective is a great idea, Susan. I do the same things. I get all my best ideas and sudden insights when I’m walking.
I’m writing a short story or novella. After writing its first scene, I wrote a synopsis of the whole in five scenes, including the one already written.
Although I didn’t feel lost, I read your blog post and discovered that one of my scenes should probably be two… that there are six scenes.
I just want to say thank you–and I do love the hiking / way-finding analogy.
It’s always funny, isn’t it, to see something that seems like it SHOULD have been obvious from the beginning? I love your insight about discovering that one of your scenes need to be two.
I can’t afford to get lost – I’m too slow as a writer. So I don’t leave (start writing) until I know exactly where I’m going and have reheased every possible decision on the way.
I still get confused, and occasionally sidetracked or delayed. But it’s never for very long – because I don’t deviate from the plan.
Basically, I separate planning for the tip and packing (plotting) from going on the trip (writing). I probably pack too much – but I’m never without what I need.
Some of us have to write that way.
Gee, these are great suggestions, Kathleen. I do get a little lost sometimes when writing a story. My strategy is to escape it. I take a day off and dive into into nature walking or music, spend an afternoon with a poetry book. Sometimes it’ll take more than one day but usually once I’m refreshed, the next turn appears on the path and I’m back in the right story direction.
I’m on this kind of escape right now (just had hip replacement surgery)from my new novel. There’s nothing like a health issue to take you away from the writing desk. Focusing on the body and recovery has its merits … I guess! Thanks for a stimulating post today.
Kathleen, I always enjoy what you have to say and your metaphor for the dark woods and being lost in the story holds truth. Untangling story threads that sometimes feel just right and then sometimes lead nowhere can mess up the pathway the reader will be taking. Surprises and twists and turns in a work of fiction can create a page turner, but as the writer–we need the map. Getting lost in the woods of our own creation is truly a setback. Thanks for the tips.
Kathleen, great tips for finding your way home when feeling lost in a wip. I make myself write a synopsis when I’m lost. Walks are good too, as is discussing the story with a trusted writing partner.
What a great post on perspective!
Great metaphor! So glad I’m not the only one who constantly stops about a third of the way through to go back to the beginning and try and figure out just where on earth I am.
When I’m lost in the woods or on city streets I look for the sun. That gives me a sense of direction–where I need to go.
In a novel the sun is the whole point of the story, what it revolves around. Often I’ve found myself revising to the point that I lose my bearings and can’t find the sun.
Keeping that core in mind helps me go forward and keeps me on the right path.
I also ask strangers for directions. Help may come in the form of a critique group, a writer-in-residence at a local college, or an internet group. A fresh pair of eyes can help me see what’s buried in my story and needs to be unearthed.
Getting lost in the woods is a perfect metaphor for writing. Thanks for a memorable and helpful post.
I tend to write seat-of-my pants and really enjoy the discovery aspect, but I have to be careful of plot bunnies. As in life, getting distracted in my writing can lead to things flaming out.
I have to remember that sometimes people give us directions for a good reason, and woe betide the person not paying attention. :-D