Navigating the Darkness: Sprinting Through Your Marathon Novel
E.L. Doctorow, a titan of American literature, once famously described the writing process as akin to “driving a car at night – you can only see as far as the headlight go.” This beautifully encapsulates the inherent uncertainty, the step-by-step progression, and the reliance on instinct that comes with crafting a narrative.
Then there’s the other, equally valid, piece of advice: writing a book isn’t a sprint, it’s a marathon. This speaks to the endurance, the discipline, and the long-haul commitment required to bring a sprawling story from conception to completion.
On the surface, these two nuggets of wisdom feel contradictory. How can you sprint through a marathon? How can you navigate the darkness with pinpoint precision if you’re also settling in for a long, grueling race?
The truth is, they aren’t contradictions at all. They are two essential facets of successful authorship, and the key to achieving the best of both worlds lies in understanding how they can and should work together.
Embrace the Headlight: The Power of the Present
Doctorow’s metaphor is a powerful reminder to ground ourselves in the immediate. When you’re staring at a blank page or a daunting plot point, the sheer magnitude of the “marathon” can be paralyzing. This is where the headlight comes in.
Focus on the Next Scene: Don’t worry about how you’re going to end the book. Just focus on writing the next scene, the next chapter, the next conversation. What needs to happen right now to move the story forward?
Trust Your Intuition: The headlight illuminates the path immediately ahead. This is where your creative impulse, your gut feeling about character motivation, or your instinct for dialogue takes over. Allow yourself to explore without needing to see the entire roadmap.
Embrace the Unknown: Sometimes, the best stories emerge from the unexpected detours revealed by the headlight. Don’t be afraid to go where the light takes you, even if it wasn’t part of your original plan. This is how discovery happens.
Pace Yourself for the Long Haul: The Marathon Mindset
While the headlight keeps you moving forward, the marathon mindset provides the structure and resilience to keep going. Without it, you’ll burn out before you even hit the halfway point.
Establish a Routine: Whether it’s a daily word count, a dedicated writing time, or a weekly goal, consistency is your marathon fuel. It’s about showing up, even when the inspiration feels dim.
Break Down the Giant Task: The marathon is made up of many miles. Similarly, your book is made up of chapters, plot arcs, and character development. Break down the larger goal into smaller, manageable chunks. This makes the journey less daunting.
Cultivate Patience and Persistence: There will be days, weeks, even months where the writing feels like wading through molasses. This is normal. Understanding that this is part of the marathon allows you to persevere through the tough patches without losing sight of the finish line.
The Long Game of Revision: The marathon isn’t over when you type “The End.” The real work of refining, shaping, and polishing is a crucial part of the longer journey. Trust that the initial draft, guided by the headlight, will be the raw material for a more polished creation.
Achieving the Best of Both Worlds: The Dynamic Duo
The magic happens when you stop seeing these as opposing forces and start integrating them.
Start with the Headlight, Build with the Marathon: Begin by focusing on the immediate scene, letting your creativity flow. As you complete sections, start to see the broader strokes, the emerging patterns that define your marathon.
Use the Marathon Structure to Guide the Headlight: Have a general outline or a compelling premise? This “marathon vision” can act as your distant parklights, giving direction to your immediate headlight-led explorations.
Allow for Detours, But Keep Moving: The headlight might reveal an exciting side road, but the marathon’s awareness of the destination ensures you don’t get lost indefinitely. You can explore, but always with a sense of returning to the main path.
Celebrate Small Victories (Headlight Moments) on the Long Journey (Marathon): Finishing a chapter is a milestone in the marathon. A particularly brilliant piece of dialogue is a shining moment in the headlight’s beam. Acknowledge and appreciate both.
In essence, writing a book is about learning to be both a navigator of the immediate journey and a seasoned long-distance runner. You need the courage to step into the darkness, guided by the light you have, and the wisdom to understand that this is a race that requires stamina, strategy, and unwavering dedication. By embracing the power of the present while respecting the demands of the long haul, you can indeed achieve the best of both worlds, and bring your story magnificently to life.
It was the first time in almost a week that I made the short walk to the cafe alone. It was early, and the chill of the morning was still in the air. In summer, it was the best time of the day. When Susan came with me, it was usually much later, when the day was much warmer and less tolerable.
On the morning of the third day of her visit, Susan said she was missing the hustle and bustle of London, and by the end of the fourth she said, in not so many words, she was over being away from ‘civilisation’. This was a side of her I had not seen before, and it surprised me.
She hadn’t complained, but it was making her irritable. The Susan that morning was vastly different to the Susan on the first day. So much, I thought, for her wanting to ‘reconnect’, the word she had used as the reason for coming to Greve unannounced.
It was also the first morning I had time to reflect on her visit and what my feelings were towards her. It was the reason I’d come to Greve: to soak up the peace and quiet and think about what I was going to do with the rest of my life.
I sat in my usual corner. Maria, one of two waitresses, came out, stopped, and there was no mistaking the relief in her manner. There was an air of tension between Susan and Maria I didn’t understand, and it seemed to emanate from Susan rather than the other way around. I could understand her attitude if it was towards Alisha, but not Maria. All she did was serve coffee and cake.
When Maria recovered from the momentary surprise, she said, smiling, “You are by yourself?” She gave a quick glance in the direction of my villa, just to be sure.
“I am this morning. I’m afraid the heat, for one who is not used to it, can be quite debilitating. I’m also afraid it has had a bad effect on her manners, for which I apologise. I cannot explain why she has been so rude to you.”
“You do not have to apologise for her, David, but it is of no consequence to me. I have had a lot worse. I think she is simply jealous.”
It had crossed my mind, but there was no reason for her to be. “Why?”
“She is a woman, I am a woman, she thinks because you and I are friends, there is something between us.”
It made sense, even if it was not true. “Perhaps if I explained…”
Maria shook her head. “If there is a hole in the boat, you should not keep bailing but try to plug the hole. My grandfather had many expressions, David. If I may give you one piece of advice, as much as it is none of my business, you need to make your feelings known, and if they are not as they once were, and I think they are not, you need to tell her. Before she goes home.”
Interesting advice. Not only a purveyor of excellent coffee, but Maria was also a psychiatrist who had astutely worked out my dilemma. What was that expression, ‘not just a pretty face’?
“Is she leaving soon?” I asked, thinking Maria knew more about Susan’s movements than I did.
“You would disappoint me if you had not suspected as much. Susan was having coffee and talking to someone in her office on a cell phone. It was an intense conversation. I should not eavesdrop, but she said being here was like being stuck in hell. It is a pity she does not share your love for our little piece of paradise, is it not?”
“It is indeed. And you’re right. She said she didn’t have a phone, but I know she has one. She just doesn’t value the idea of getting away from the office. Perhaps her role doesn’t afford her that luxury.”
And perhaps Alisha was right about Maria, that I should be more careful. She had liked Maria the moment she saw her. We had sat at this very table, the first day I arrived. I would have travelled alone, but Prendergast, my old boss, liked to know where ex-employees of the Department were, and what they were doing.
She sighed. “I am glad I am just a waitress. Your usual coffee and cake?”
“Yes, please.”
Several months had passed since we had rescued Susan from her despotic father; she had recovered faster than we had thought, and settled into her role as the new Lady Featherington, though she preferred not to use that title, but go by the name of Lady Susan Cheney.
I didn’t get to be a Lord, or have any title, not that I was expecting one. What I had expected was that Susan, once she found her footing as head of what seemed to be a commercial empire, would not have time for details like husbands, particularly when our agreement made before the wedding gave either of us the right to end it.
There was a moment when I visited her recovering in the hospital, where I was going to give her the out, but I didn’t, and she had not invoked it. We were still married, just not living together.
This visit was one where she wanted to ‘reconnect’ as she called it, and invite me to come home with her. She saw no reason why we could not resume our relationship, conveniently forgetting she indirectly had me arrested for her murder, charges both her mother and Lucy vigorously pursued, and had the clone not returned to save me, I might still be in jail.
It was not something I would forgive or forget any time soon.
There were other reasons why I was reluctant to stay with her, like forgetting small details, an irregularity in her character I found odd. She looked the same, she sounded the same, she basically acted the same, but my mind was telling me something was not right. It was not the Susan I first met, even allowing for the ordeal she had been subjected to.
But, despite those misgivings, there was no question in my mind that I still loved her, and her clandestine arrival had brought back all those feelings. But as the days passed, I began to get the impression my feelings were one-sided and she was just going through the motions.
Which brought me to the last argument, earlier, where I said if I went with her, it would be business meetings, social obligations, and quite simply her ‘celebrity’ status that would keep us apart. I reminded her that I had said from the outset I didn’t like the idea of being in the spotlight, and when I reiterated it, she simply brushed it off as just part of the job, adding rather strangely that I always looked good in a suit. The flippancy of that comment was the last straw, and I left before I said something I would regret.
I knew I was not a priority. Maybe somewhere inside me, I had wanted to be a priority, and I was disappointed when I was not.
And finally, there was Alisha. Susan, at the height of the argument, had intimated she believed I had an affair with her, but that elephant was always in the room whenever Alisha was around. It was no surprise when I learned Susan had asked Prendergast to reassign her to other duties.
At least I knew what my feelings for Alisha were, and there were times when I had to remember she was persona non grata. Perhaps that was why Susan had her banished, but, again, a small detail; jealousy was not one of Susan’s traits when I first knew her.
Perhaps it was time to set Susan free.
When I swung around to look in the direction of the lane where my villa was, I saw Susan. She was formally dressed, not in her ‘tourist’ clothes, which she had bought from one of the local clothing stores. We had fun that day, shopping for clothes, a chore I’d always hated. It had been followed by a leisurely lunch, lots of wine and soul searching.
It was the reason why I sat in this corner; old habits die hard. I could see trouble coming from all directions, not that Susan was trouble or at least I hoped not, but it allowed me the time to watch her walking towards the cafe in what appeared to be short, angry steps; perhaps the culmination of the heat wave and our last argument.
She glared at me as she sat, dropping her bag beside her on the ground, where I could see the cell phone sitting on top. She followed my glance down, and then she looked unrepentant back at me.
Maria came back at the exact moment she was going to speak. I noticed Maria hesitate for a second when she saw Susan, then put her smile in place to deliver my coffee.
Neither spoke nor looked at each other. I said, “Susan will have what I’m having, thanks.”
Maria nodded and left.
“Now,” I said, leaning back in my seat, “I’m sure there’s a perfectly good explanation as to why you didn’t tell me about the phone, but that first time you disappeared, I’d guessed you needed to keep in touch with your business interests. I thought it somewhat unwisethat you should come out when the board of one of your companies was trying to remove you, because of what was it, an unexplained absence? All you had to do was tell me there were problems and you needed to remain at home to resolve them.”
My comment elicited a sideways look, with a touch of surprise.
“It was unfortunate timing on their behalf, and I didn’t want you to think everything else was more important than us. There were issues before I came, and I thought the people at home would be able to manage without me for at least a week, but I was wrong.”
“Why come at all. A phone call would have sufficed.”
“I had to see you, talk to you. At least we have had a chance to do that. I’m sorry about yesterday. I once told you I would not become my mother, but I’m afraid I sounded just like her. I misjudged just how much this role would affect me, and truly, I’m sorry.”
An apology was the last thing I expected.
“You have a lot of work to do catching up after being away, and of course, in replacing your mother and gaining the requisite respect as the new Lady Featherington. I think it would be for the best if I were not another distraction. We have plenty of time to reacquaint ourselves when you get past all these teething issues.”
“You’re not coming with me?” She sounded disappointed.
“I think it would be for the best if I didn’t.”
“Why?”
“It should come as no surprise to you that I’ve been keeping an eye on your progress. You are so much better doing your job without me. I told your mother once that when the time came I would not like the responsibilities of being your husband. Now that I have seen what it could possibly entail, I like it even less. You might also want to reconsider our arrangement, after all, we only had a marriage of convenience, and now that those obligations have been fulfilled, we both have the option of terminating it. I won’t make things difficult for you if that’s what you want.”
It was yet another anomaly, I thought; she should look distressed, and I would raise the matter of that arrangement. Perhaps she had forgotten the finer points. I, on the other hand, had always known we would not last forever. The perplexed expression, to me, was a sign she might have forgotten.
Then, her expression changed. “Is that what you want?”
“I wasn’t madly in love with you when we made that arrangement, so it was easy to agree to your terms, but inexplicably, since then, my feelings for you changed, and I would be sad if we parted ways. But the truth is, I can’t see how this is going to work.”
“In saying that, do you think I don’t care for you?”
That was exactly what I was thinking, but I wasn’t going to voice that opinion out loud. “You spent a lot of time finding new ways to make my life miserable, Susan. You and that wretched friend of yours, Lucy. While your attitude improved after we were married, that was because you were going to use me when you went to see your father, and then almost let me go to prison for your murder.”
“I had nothing to do with that, other than to leave, and I didn’t agree with Lucy that you should be made responsible for my disappearance. I cannot be held responsible for the actions of my mother. She hated you; Lucy didn’t understand you, and Millie told me I was stupid for not loving you in return, and she was right. Why do you think I gave you such a hard time? You made it impossible not to fall in love with you, and it nearly changed my mind about everything I’d been planning so meticulously. But perhaps there was a more subliminal reason why I did because after I left, I wanted to believe, if anything went wrong, you would come and find me.”
“How could you possibly know that I’d even consider doing something like that, given what you knew about me?”
“Prendergast made a passing comment when my mother asked him about you; he told us you were very good at finding people and even better at fixing problems.”
“And yet here we are, one argument away from ending it.”
I could see Maria hovering, waiting for the right moment to deliver her coffee, then go back and find Gianna, the café owner, instead. Gianna was more abrupt and, for that reason, was rarely seen serving the customers. Today, she was particularly cantankerous, banging the cake dish on the table and frowning at Susan before returning to her kitchen. Gianna didn’t like Susan either.
Behind me, I heard a car stop, and when she looked up, I knew it was for her. She had arrived with nothing, and she was leaving with nothing.
She stood. “Last chance.”
“Forever?”
She hesitated and then shook away the look of annoyance on her face. “Of course not. I wanted you to come back with me so we could continue working on our relationship. I agree there are problems, but it’s nothing we can’t resolve if we try.”
I had been trying. “It’s too soon for both of us, Susan. I need to be able to trust you, and given the circumstances, and all that water under the bridge, I’m not sure if I can yet.”
She frowned at me. “As you wish.” She took an envelope out of her bag and put it on the table. “When you are ready, it’s an open ticket home. Please make it sooner rather than later. Despite what you think of me, I have missed you, and I have no intention of ending it between us.”
That said, she glared at me for a minute, shook her head, then walked to the car. I watched her get in and the car drive slowly away.
Writing exercise – The world is upside down; climate change has made our home uninhabitable
…
We had all seen it coming, and to a certain extent, pretended it wasn’t happening.
Until we could ignore it no longer.
Perhaps we could have kept our collective heads in the sand, but Mother Nature wasn’t going to wait that long.
We woke up one morning to snow.
Three months early, just as Fall began. Perhaps the fact that the trees had been losing their leaves far earlier than usual was a sign.
There were others, but it had happened before, a few years back, and it had sparked the usual warnings from scientists, debunking of climate change, politicians’ umming and erring, but in the end, nothing changed
We did the same this time. Been there, done that, nothing to see here. The government, such as it was, laughed it off.
As they did with most things that concerned the people, unless they were among the President’s private circle.
At first the snow turned the surroundings into a winter wonderland, usually here in mid-November, an interlude before the main event: Christmas.
It was barely into September, and it was a long way to the festive season.
It snowed every night for the next two weeks. All night, virtually at blizzard level, and so badly that it was difficult and then impossible to keep the roads clear. Except for the essential roads.
The houses were snowed in, then abandoned.
Whole areas were shut down and people evacuated.
I went up to the lookout once, and all I could see was white, except for a small area where the shopping centre was located
The whole was gone. Our house would be next.
Beth was holding a light blue sheet of paper in her hand, a hand that was shaking.
I knew what it was.
“We got one.” She held it up.
“Lou got his yesterday.” Lou was across the street. He’s lived there all his life, as did his parents before him.
We all knew this was the end. Any more snow and our town would disappear.
It was the same in any direction you could go.
She had the TV on. There was only one channel, reporting the weather and emergency information 24 hours a day. She never turned it off.
“They’re not ignoring it now. They keep playing the President saying it’s nothing and would go away in a few days. Now he won’t talk to anyone.”
No surprise. The last crisis, the pandemic, had been met with a similar response.
There were over a million deaths at that time; this had been exceeded in just two weeks. If it didn’t go away, the total was going to be horrific.
“We’re not going to be leaving any time soon. The police had shut the road for everything other than official vehicles.” The trains stopped at midnight; the last one snowed in at our station.
“What’s going to happen to us?”
“Last I heard, we’re going to the missile complex.”
It was a ubiquitous small town, with a big secret. We made up part of the air defence system in place to prevent invaders. And the threat of being wiped off the face of the planet if anything went wrong.
Freda hated the idea of nesting with nuclear bombs. So did I.
“Do we have a choice?”
“If you want to live.”
“So, in your opinion, it’s not going to stop.”
“No.”
I’d asked old man Bowen, ex-weatherman on channel 6 news, old meteorologist for Nasa, whose wife read tarot cards.
An expert.
“It’s part of a phenomenon that has happened in the past. Two more years, if we’re lucky.”
“And you know this…oh. the crazy old fool down the street. Seriously, Monte?”
There were things wanted to believe, believable things, things that some people just didn’t want to hear.
Fundamentally, a good person, when she had first met the Bowens, she took an instant dislike to them. He was abrupt and she was aloof, but that was just defence.
I smiled. “As much as you hate them, so far, everything he’d said had come true. As for the next, well, that was going to be the killer.”
“Or as the government says, we just have to wait it out a little longer.”
“While all the top officials, including our fearless leader, swan off to a country with a warmer climate.”
All the rich people were gone.
The president tried to sneak out by the back secret entrance that no one was supposed to know about. Except for one old press hack.
She didn’t answer. We agreed to disagree on certain matters, because not to would be letting politics destroy something good.
She glared at me. “Don’t say it. I’ve already had seventeen phone calls. It’s easy to lay blame, not so easy to prove it.”
Yes. He could do no wrong. And it was going to kill her.
But I wasn’t going to be drawn in this time. Just saying what I was thinking would get me arrested, and Beth would turn me in, husband or not.
“Then I guess God has a lot to answer for.”
That did it. The president and then God, sometimes the two fused, according to the president, speaking candidly about his ‘friends’, telling the reporter, or rather the stooge paid to preen his ego, that who was he to dispute they believed he was the almighty himself.”
It had been impossible not to burst out laughing.
The truck came to pick us up, one small bag allowed. Beth was going to come, but remembered that she had a small job to do and would come later.
She was warned that she had 24 hours. After that, no one knew what was going to happen.
It was more like they did, but to tell us mere mortals might have set off a chain reaction of dissent.
The last I saw of her, she was waving. I don’t think she expected me to leave.
We collected all the people on the street and headed to the silo. There were two other trucks. There was an officer in the truck who said there were rooms for 200 people. It was once a mass point for soldiers in case of an attempted invasion.
I found it amusing that anyone would come to put two for the purpose of invading it.
So did the others.
There were five trucks. The last of the townsfolk. All outlying areas had been evacuated earlier.
About a dozen had chosen not to come or had something else to do, like Beth.
And after the sun went down and Beth or any of the others deigned not to come, it was the worst-case scenario. The silo boss sent a team out to find them.
Then the snow started.
The search party came back in half an hour. The cold was too intense.
That was what was going to happen.
After the snow, the earth was going to freeze.
It came and it didn’t go.
Everything froze unless protected.
Four months passed before the cold lifted to a point where we could go back outside.
By that time, we needed food, and I was charged with finding it, and took six volunteers.
We found food, and we found something else.
A place where those who believed that nothing was going to happen had frozen to death, dying as a result of their beliefs.
It was a terrible loss of life that could have been easily saved.
It was predicted that there would be a thaw, Mother Nature’s planet-wide reset.
For the first time on this trip, we encounter problems with Chinese officialdom at the railway station, though we were warned that this might occur.
We had a major problem with the security staff when they pulled everyone over with aerosols and confiscated them. We lost styling mousse, others lost hair spray, and the men, their shaving cream. But, to her credit, the tour guide did warn us they were stricter here, but her suggestion to be angry they were taking our stuff was probably not the right thing to do.
As with previous train bookings, the Chinese method of placing people in seats didn’t quite manage to keep couples traveling together, together on the train. It was an odd peculiarity which few of the passengers understood, nor did they conform, swapping seat allocations.
This train ride did not seem the same as the last two and I don’t think we had the same type of high-speed train type that we had for the last two. The carriages were different, there was only one toilet per carriage, and I don’t think we were going as fast.
But aside from that, we had 753 kilometers to travel with six stops before ours, two of which were very large cities, and then our stop, about four and a half hours later. With two minutes this time, to get the baggage off the team managed it in 40 seconds, a new record.
After slight disorientation getting off the train, we locate our guide, easily found by looking for the Trip-A-Deal flag. From there it’s a matter of getting into our respective groups and finding the bus.
As usual, the trip to the hotel was a long one, but we were traveling through a much brighter, and well lit, city.
As for our guide, we have him from now until the end of the tour. There are no more train rides, we will be taking the bus from city to city until we reach Shanghai. Good thing then that the bus is brand new, with that new car smell. Only issue, no USB charging point.
The Snowy Sea hotel.
It is finally a joy to get a room that is nothing short of great. It has a bathroom and thus privacy.
Everyone had to go find a supermarket to purchase replacements for the confiscated items. Luckily there was a huge supermarket just up from the hotel that had everything but the kitchen sink.
But, unlike where we live, the carpark is more of a scooter park!
It is also a small microcosm of Chinese life for the new more capitalistic oriented Chinese.
The next morning we get some idea of the scope of high-density living, though here, the buildings are not 30 stories tall, but still just as impressive.
These look like the medium density houses, but to the right of these are much larger buildings
The remarkable thing about this is those buildings stretch as far as the eye can see.
Writing exercise – The world is upside down; climate change has made our home uninhabitable
…
We had all seen it coming, and to a certain extent, pretended it wasn’t happening.
Until we could ignore it no longer.
Perhaps we could have kept our collective heads in the sand, but Mother Nature wasn’t going to wait that long.
We woke up one morning to snow.
Three months early, just as Fall began. Perhaps the fact that the trees had been losing their leaves far earlier than usual was a sign.
There were others, but it had happened before, a few years back, and it had sparked the usual warnings from scientists, debunking of climate change, politicians’ umming and erring, but in the end, nothing changed
We did the same this time. Been there, done that, nothing to see here. The government, such as it was, laughed it off.
As they did with most things that concerned the people, unless they were among the President’s private circle.
At first the snow turned the surroundings into a winter wonderland, usually here in mid-November, an interlude before the main event: Christmas.
It was barely into September, and it was a long way to the festive season.
It snowed every night for the next two weeks. All night, virtually at blizzard level, and so badly that it was difficult and then impossible to keep the roads clear. Except for the essential roads.
The houses were snowed in, then abandoned.
Whole areas were shut down and people evacuated.
I went up to the lookout once, and all I could see was white, except for a small area where the shopping centre was located
The whole was gone. Our house would be next.
Beth was holding a light blue sheet of paper in her hand, a hand that was shaking.
I knew what it was.
“We got one.” She held it up.
“Lou got his yesterday.” Lou was across the street. He’s lived there all his life, as did his parents before him.
We all knew this was the end. Any more snow and our town would disappear.
It was the same in any direction you could go.
She had the TV on. There was only one channel, reporting the weather and emergency information 24 hours a day. She never turned it off.
“They’re not ignoring it now. They keep playing the President saying it’s nothing and would go away in a few days. Now he won’t talk to anyone.”
No surprise. The last crisis, the pandemic, had been met with a similar response.
There were over a million deaths at that time; this had been exceeded in just two weeks. If it didn’t go away, the total was going to be horrific.
“We’re not going to be leaving any time soon. The police had shut the road for everything other than official vehicles.” The trains stopped at midnight; the last one snowed in at our station.
“What’s going to happen to us?”
“Last I heard, we’re going to the missile complex.”
It was a ubiquitous small town, with a big secret. We made up part of the air defence system in place to prevent invaders. And the threat of being wiped off the face of the planet if anything went wrong.
Freda hated the idea of nesting with nuclear bombs. So did I.
“Do we have a choice?”
“If you want to live.”
“So, in your opinion, it’s not going to stop.”
“No.”
I’d asked old man Bowen, ex-weatherman on channel 6 news, old meteorologist for Nasa, whose wife read tarot cards.
An expert.
“It’s part of a phenomenon that has happened in the past. Two more years, if we’re lucky.”
“And you know this…oh. the crazy old fool down the street. Seriously, Monte?”
There were things wanted to believe, believable things, things that some people just didn’t want to hear.
Fundamentally, a good person, when she had first met the Bowens, she took an instant dislike to them. He was abrupt and she was aloof, but that was just defence.
I smiled. “As much as you hate them, so far, everything he’d said had come true. As for the next, well, that was going to be the killer.”
“Or as the government says, we just have to wait it out a little longer.”
“While all the top officials, including our fearless leader, swan off to a country with a warmer climate.”
All the rich people were gone.
The president tried to sneak out by the back secret entrance that no one was supposed to know about. Except for one old press hack.
She didn’t answer. We agreed to disagree on certain matters, because not to would be letting politics destroy something good.
She glared at me. “Don’t say it. I’ve already had seventeen phone calls. It’s easy to lay blame, not so easy to prove it.”
Yes. He could do no wrong. And it was going to kill her.
But I wasn’t going to be drawn in this time. Just saying what I was thinking would get me arrested, and Beth would turn me in, husband or not.
“Then I guess God has a lot to answer for.”
That did it. The president and then God, sometimes the two fused, according to the president, speaking candidly about his ‘friends’, telling the reporter, or rather the stooge paid to preen his ego, that who was he to dispute they believed he was the almighty himself.”
It had been impossible not to burst out laughing.
The truck came to pick us up, one small bag allowed. Beth was going to come, but remembered that she had a small job to do and would come later.
She was warned that she had 24 hours. After that, no one knew what was going to happen.
It was more like they did, but to tell us mere mortals might have set off a chain reaction of dissent.
The last I saw of her, she was waving. I don’t think she expected me to leave.
We collected all the people on the street and headed to the silo. There were two other trucks. There was an officer in the truck who said there were rooms for 200 people. It was once a mass point for soldiers in case of an attempted invasion.
I found it amusing that anyone would come to put two for the purpose of invading it.
So did the others.
There were five trucks. The last of the townsfolk. All outlying areas had been evacuated earlier.
About a dozen had chosen not to come or had something else to do, like Beth.
And after the sun went down and Beth or any of the others deigned not to come, it was the worst-case scenario. The silo boss sent a team out to find them.
Then the snow started.
The search party came back in half an hour. The cold was too intense.
That was what was going to happen.
After the snow, the earth was going to freeze.
It came and it didn’t go.
Everything froze unless protected.
Four months passed before the cold lifted to a point where we could go back outside.
By that time, we needed food, and I was charged with finding it, and took six volunteers.
We found food, and we found something else.
A place where those who believed that nothing was going to happen had frozen to death, dying as a result of their beliefs.
It was a terrible loss of life that could have been easily saved.
It was predicted that there would be a thaw, Mother Nature’s planet-wide reset.
From Scribbles to a Cohesive Story: How to Tackle the Second Draft Like a Pro
“The time has come. All that scribbling, writing of chapters as they come to you, are roughly assembled, and the endless notes filed in order. You have the detailed synopsis; it’s time to write the second draft, the one that makes sense of quite often what is a disjointed and plothole‑laden manuscript. What’s the plan of action?”
If those words are echoing in your head, congratulations—you’ve crossed the most dreaded threshold for any writer: the moment when the raw material finally sits in front of you, begging for order, logic, and polish. The first draft is often a glorious, chaotic outpouring of imagination. The second draft, however, is where the real craft emerges. Below is a step‑by‑step plan to transform those scattered notes and chapter fragments into a tight, believable narrative that keeps readers turning pages.
1. Pause, Breathe, and Re‑Read (Without Editing)
Before you lift a pen—or tap a key—spend 30–60 minutes simply reading what you’ve already produced.
Why?
What to Look For
Big‑picture feel
Does the story’s tone stay consistent?
Narrative momentum
Are there sections that drag or rush?
Emotional arcs
Do the characters’ journeys feel earned?
Resist the urge to fix anything now. This “cold read” gives you a fresh mental map of where the story stands, and it surfaces the most glaring gaps that you’ll need to address later.
2. Re‑Validate Your Synopsis
Your synopsis is the blueprint; the second draft is the construction crew.
Compare Chapter by Chapter – Align each chapter with the corresponding synopsis point. Tick off what matches, note what deviates.
Identify Missing Beats – Any plot point in the synopsis that has no chapter yet? Flag it.
Spot Redundancies – Sometimes you’ll discover two scenes serving the same purpose; consolidate them.
If your synopsis feels dated after the first draft, revise it now. A solid, up‑to‑date outline is the safety net that prevents you from falling into new plot holes.
3. Map the Structural Skeleton
Visual aids are lifesavers. Choose a method that resonates with you—index cards, a spreadsheet, a mind‑map tool (e.g., Scrivener, Milanote, or even a whiteboard). Populate it with:
Scene headings (location, time, POV)
Purpose (what does this scene accomplish? Conflict, revelation, transition?)
Key beats (the inciting incident, midpoint twist, climax, resolution)
Seeing the entire story laid out reveals:
Pacing problems – clusters of low‑stakes scenes or long gaps between major events.
Plot holes – missing cause‑and‑effect links.
Character arcs – where growth stalls or accelerates too abruptly.
4. Diagnose the “Disjointed” Spots
Now that you have a macro view, zoom in on the trouble areas:
Category
Typical Symptoms
Quick Fixes
Plot Gaps
Unexplained changes in motivation, events that happen “out of nowhere.”
Add a short catalyst scene, insert a character’s internal monologue, or create a flashback for context.
Plotholes
Contradictory facts (e.g., a character knows something they shouldn’t).
Insert a logical bridge—perhaps a conversation, a document, or a memory reveal.
Character Inconsistency
Sudden shifts in personality or skill set.
Plant subtle foreshadowing earlier; give a brief “training” moment or a back‑story hint.
Pacing Lulls
Too many exposition‑heavy paragraphs.
Break up with a moment of conflict, a dialogue beat, or a sensory detail that propels the scene forward.
Take each flagged spot and write a mini‑action plan: what needs to be added, moved, or cut, and why. Keep the plan short—one sentence per issue—so you can reference it quickly while you rewrite.
5. Set a Realistic Writing Schedule
Second drafts can feel endless, but a structured timetable keeps momentum alive.
Time Block
Goal
Example
Daily 90‑minute sprint
Finish a specific scene or page count.
“Rewrite Chapter 4, focusing on tightening dialogue.”
Weekly review (30 min)
Compare progress to the structural skeleton, adjust if needed.
“Check if the midpoint twist lands with enough payoff.”
Bi‑weekly “big‑picture” day
Re‑read the draft up to the current point, ensuring continuity.
“Read chapters 1‑6, note any new inconsistencies.”
Treat these blocks as appointments you cannot miss. Use a timer (Pomodoro technique works wonders) to stay disciplined.
6. Rewrite with Intent—One Layer at a Time
Trying to fix everything in one go leads to burnout. Adopt a layered approach:
Structural Pass – Move, add, or delete entire scenes to align with your outline.
Each pass focuses on a single type of improvement, making the workload manageable and the end result more cohesive.
7. Leverage Feedback—But Do It Strategically
Before you dive into the final polish, get targeted beta feedback. Instead of handing out the whole manuscript, send:
The synopsis + structural skeleton – to confirm the plot makes sense.
A few pivotal chapters – especially the opening, the midpoint, and the climax.
A character sheet – to verify arcs feel authentic.
Ask specific questions: “Does the protagonist’s decision in Chapter 8 feel justified?” or “Is the reveal at the end of Chapter 12 too abrupt?” Focused feedback saves you from generic, overwhelming commentary.
8. The Final Sweep: Consistency & Polish
When the structural and narrative issues are resolved, it’s time for the polish:
Read aloud – catches clunky dialogue and rhythm problems.
Run a “character name” search – ensures you haven’t inadvertently swapped names.
Check timeline continuity – use a simple spreadsheet to list dates, ages, and events.
Run style tools (Grammarly, ProWritingAid) – but trust your own ear first.
Once you’ve run through this checklist, you can consider the second draft complete.
9. Celebrate and Reset
Finishing a second draft is a milestone worth celebrating. Take a short break (a weekend, a hike, a binge‑watch session) before you embark on the third draft or start polishing for submission. A rested mind sees errors you missed while immersed in the manuscript.
TL;DR – The Action Plan in a Nutshell
Read the whole draft (no editing).
Cross‑check every chapter with the synopsis.
Create a visual scene map.
Identify and plan fixes for disjointed spots.
Set a realistic writing schedule.
Rewrite in layers (structure → flow → character → language → proof).
Gather targeted beta feedback.
Do a final consistency & polish sweep.
Celebrate, then move on.
Final Thought
The second draft isn’t just a “clean‑up” phase; it’s where a writer’s critical eye meets the raw spark of imagination. By approaching it methodically—treating each problem as a solvable puzzle—you’ll turn a fragmented manuscript into a compelling, seamless story that readers can’t put down. So roll up your sleeves, follow the plan, and let the magic of revision reveal the masterpiece hidden within your notes. Happy drafting!
The Henan Museum is one of the oldest museums in China. In June 1927, General Feng Yuxiang proposed that a museum be built, and it was completed the next year. In 1961, along with the move of the provincial capital, Henan Museum moved from Kaifeng to Zhengzhou.
It currently holds about 130,000 individual pieces, more of which are mostly cultural relics, bronze vessels of the Shang and Zhou Dynasties, and pottery and porcelain wares of the various dynasties.
Eventually, we arrive at the museum and get off the bus adjacent to a scooter track and despite the efforts of the guide, there’s no stopping them from nearly running us over.
We arrive to find the museum has been moved to a different and somewhat smaller building nearby as the existing, and rather distinctively designed, building is being renovated.
While we are waiting for the tickets to enter, we are given another view of industrial life in that there is nothing that resembles proper health and safety on worksites in this country, and the workers are basically standing on what looks to be a flimsy bamboo ladder with nothing to stop them from falling off.
The museum itself has exhibits dating back a few thousand years and consist of bronze and ceramic items. One of the highlights was a tortoiseshell with reportedly the oldest know writing ever found.
Other than that it was a series of cooking utensils, a table, and ceramic pots, some in very good condition considering their age.
From Scribbles to a Cohesive Story: How to Tackle the Second Draft Like a Pro
“The time has come. All that scribbling, writing of chapters as they come to you, are roughly assembled, and the endless notes filed in order. You have the detailed synopsis; it’s time to write the second draft, the one that makes sense of quite often what is a disjointed and plothole‑laden manuscript. What’s the plan of action?”
If those words are echoing in your head, congratulations—you’ve crossed the most dreaded threshold for any writer: the moment when the raw material finally sits in front of you, begging for order, logic, and polish. The first draft is often a glorious, chaotic outpouring of imagination. The second draft, however, is where the real craft emerges. Below is a step‑by‑step plan to transform those scattered notes and chapter fragments into a tight, believable narrative that keeps readers turning pages.
1. Pause, Breathe, and Re‑Read (Without Editing)
Before you lift a pen—or tap a key—spend 30–60 minutes simply reading what you’ve already produced.
Why?
What to Look For
Big‑picture feel
Does the story’s tone stay consistent?
Narrative momentum
Are there sections that drag or rush?
Emotional arcs
Do the characters’ journeys feel earned?
Resist the urge to fix anything now. This “cold read” gives you a fresh mental map of where the story stands, and it surfaces the most glaring gaps that you’ll need to address later.
2. Re‑Validate Your Synopsis
Your synopsis is the blueprint; the second draft is the construction crew.
Compare Chapter by Chapter – Align each chapter with the corresponding synopsis point. Tick off what matches, note what deviates.
Identify Missing Beats – Any plot point in the synopsis that has no chapter yet? Flag it.
Spot Redundancies – Sometimes you’ll discover two scenes serving the same purpose; consolidate them.
If your synopsis feels dated after the first draft, revise it now. A solid, up‑to‑date outline is the safety net that prevents you from falling into new plot holes.
3. Map the Structural Skeleton
Visual aids are lifesavers. Choose a method that resonates with you—index cards, a spreadsheet, a mind‑map tool (e.g., Scrivener, Milanote, or even a whiteboard). Populate it with:
Scene headings (location, time, POV)
Purpose (what does this scene accomplish? Conflict, revelation, transition?)
Key beats (the inciting incident, midpoint twist, climax, resolution)
Seeing the entire story laid out reveals:
Pacing problems – clusters of low‑stakes scenes or long gaps between major events.
Plot holes – missing cause‑and‑effect links.
Character arcs – where growth stalls or accelerates too abruptly.
4. Diagnose the “Disjointed” Spots
Now that you have a macro view, zoom in on the trouble areas:
Category
Typical Symptoms
Quick Fixes
Plot Gaps
Unexplained changes in motivation, events that happen “out of nowhere.”
Add a short catalyst scene, insert a character’s internal monologue, or create a flashback for context.
Plotholes
Contradictory facts (e.g., a character knows something they shouldn’t).
Insert a logical bridge—perhaps a conversation, a document, or a memory reveal.
Character Inconsistency
Sudden shifts in personality or skill set.
Plant subtle foreshadowing earlier; give a brief “training” moment or a back‑story hint.
Pacing Lulls
Too many exposition‑heavy paragraphs.
Break up with a moment of conflict, a dialogue beat, or a sensory detail that propels the scene forward.
Take each flagged spot and write a mini‑action plan: what needs to be added, moved, or cut, and why. Keep the plan short—one sentence per issue—so you can reference it quickly while you rewrite.
5. Set a Realistic Writing Schedule
Second drafts can feel endless, but a structured timetable keeps momentum alive.
Time Block
Goal
Example
Daily 90‑minute sprint
Finish a specific scene or page count.
“Rewrite Chapter 4, focusing on tightening dialogue.”
Weekly review (30 min)
Compare progress to the structural skeleton, adjust if needed.
“Check if the midpoint twist lands with enough payoff.”
Bi‑weekly “big‑picture” day
Re‑read the draft up to the current point, ensuring continuity.
“Read chapters 1‑6, note any new inconsistencies.”
Treat these blocks as appointments you cannot miss. Use a timer (Pomodoro technique works wonders) to stay disciplined.
6. Rewrite with Intent—One Layer at a Time
Trying to fix everything in one go leads to burnout. Adopt a layered approach:
Structural Pass – Move, add, or delete entire scenes to align with your outline.
Each pass focuses on a single type of improvement, making the workload manageable and the end result more cohesive.
7. Leverage Feedback—But Do It Strategically
Before you dive into the final polish, get targeted beta feedback. Instead of handing out the whole manuscript, send:
The synopsis + structural skeleton – to confirm the plot makes sense.
A few pivotal chapters – especially the opening, the midpoint, and the climax.
A character sheet – to verify arcs feel authentic.
Ask specific questions: “Does the protagonist’s decision in Chapter 8 feel justified?” or “Is the reveal at the end of Chapter 12 too abrupt?” Focused feedback saves you from generic, overwhelming commentary.
8. The Final Sweep: Consistency & Polish
When the structural and narrative issues are resolved, it’s time for the polish:
Read aloud – catches clunky dialogue and rhythm problems.
Run a “character name” search – ensures you haven’t inadvertently swapped names.
Check timeline continuity – use a simple spreadsheet to list dates, ages, and events.
Run style tools (Grammarly, ProWritingAid) – but trust your own ear first.
Once you’ve run through this checklist, you can consider the second draft complete.
9. Celebrate and Reset
Finishing a second draft is a milestone worth celebrating. Take a short break (a weekend, a hike, a binge‑watch session) before you embark on the third draft or start polishing for submission. A rested mind sees errors you missed while immersed in the manuscript.
TL;DR – The Action Plan in a Nutshell
Read the whole draft (no editing).
Cross‑check every chapter with the synopsis.
Create a visual scene map.
Identify and plan fixes for disjointed spots.
Set a realistic writing schedule.
Rewrite in layers (structure → flow → character → language → proof).
Gather targeted beta feedback.
Do a final consistency & polish sweep.
Celebrate, then move on.
Final Thought
The second draft isn’t just a “clean‑up” phase; it’s where a writer’s critical eye meets the raw spark of imagination. By approaching it methodically—treating each problem as a solvable puzzle—you’ll turn a fragmented manuscript into a compelling, seamless story that readers can’t put down. So roll up your sleeves, follow the plan, and let the magic of revision reveal the masterpiece hidden within your notes. Happy drafting!
Beyond the Secret Agent: 7 Strategic Reasons to Use a Pseudonym
For centuries, the pseudonym—or nom de plume—has occupied a curious space between secrecy and strategy. We often associate pen names with historical figures hiding from censure, or writers protecting their reputation while exploring controversial themes.
But the role of the adopted name in the modern creative world is far more complex than simple disguise. Whether you are a writer, an artist, a musician, or a content creator, a pseudonym can be one of the most powerful strategic tools in your professional arsenal.
If you’ve ever considered stepping out from behind your birth name, here are seven compelling reasons why embracing a strategic alter ego might be the right move for your career.
1. Safety, Security, and Professional Separation
This is often the most critical and practical reason. If your creative work involves sensitive topics, controversial political commentary, or highly personal memoirs that might expose others, a pseudonym is an essential shield.
Practical Applications:
Protecting Your Day Job: If your employer (especially in fields like education, medicine, or government) might disapprove of your side hustle—say, writing steamy romance or true crime—a pseudonym provides necessary separation.
Personal Privacy: Limiting the access strangers have to your private life, family history, and home address is crucial in the digital age, especially when dealing with online criticism or harassment.
Sensitive Content: When tackling subjects that invite extreme reactions (politics, social justice, whistleblowing), a pen name allows the message to be heard without putting the messenger at personal risk.
2. Establishing a Clear Genre Brand
Imagine an author named Beatrice Bell. Beatrice writes heartwarming children’s books and, under her birth name, publishes historical non-fiction about the French Revolution. This creates a massive problem for readers and marketers.
Readers of historical non-fiction are unlikely to pick up a book advertised next to a picture of a cuddly bunny, and vice versa.
A pseudonym allows you to compartmentalize your audience. Many prolific authors use multiple names to dominate separate niches:
Name A: For literary fiction.
Name B: For fast-paced thrillers.
Name C: For specialized technical guides.
This ensures your marketing efforts are targeted and your readers know exactly what to expect when they pick up your book.
3. Escaping Bias and Preconception
Historically, women often adopted male pseudonyms (like George Eliot or George Sand) to ensure their work was taken seriously in a male-dominated literary establishment. While the landscape has shifted, bias remains.
A strategically chosen pseudonym can help the work stand on its own merits, regardless of the creator’s background:
Gender Neutrality: Using initials (J.K. Rowling, P.D. James) or an androgynous name can allow a writer to appeal to the widest possible audience, particularly in genres where gender bias persists (like military sci-fi or hardboiled crime).
Combating Ageism: For creators who are very young or very old, a pseudonym can neutralize preconceptions about their experience level.
Neutralizing Geographic Bias: If your real name suggests a specific cultural background that might pigeonhole your work in certain markets, a neutral name can broaden your appeal.
4. Addressing a Difficult or Common Name
A good pseudonym is memorable, easy to pronounce, and unique. If your birth name poses a challenge, a pen name can simplify your entire career:
Too Hard to Spell/Pronounce: If readers struggle to pronounce your name, they won’t remember or recommend it easily. Creating a simpler, phonetically clean name is smart branding.
Too Common: Being “John Smith” in a crowded marketplace can make it impossible for readers or search engines to find your specific work. A unique pseudonym makes you discoverable.
Inappropriate Connotations: Sometimes a name simply doesn’t fit the brand. If you write dark, gothic fantasy, a name like “Sunny Meadows” sends the wrong signal.
5. Starting Fresh After a Misstep
The internet doesn’t forget. If you launched a creative endeavor that didn’t go well, received significant critical backlash, or involved content you no longer stand by, moving forward under a new name provides a clean slate.
A fresh identity allows you to:
Separate from Past Failures: Shed the baggage of a debut novel that flopped or a previous artistic identity that didn’t resonate.
Signal a Major Change: If you are transitioning from one highly specific field to an entirely different one (e.g., from journalism to poetry), a new name signals to the market that this is a distinct, new phase of your career.
6. Managing Prolific Output (The Publishing Powerhouse)
Certain genres, particularly romance, thrillers, and highly niche non-fiction, require writers to publish multiple works per year to maintain engagement.
A single author can only release so many books before they flood the market and confuse retailers. Publishing under multiple pseudonyms allows the author to maintain high productivity without undermining their own sales.
This strategy is often employed by ghostwriters or writers working under specific contractual obligations who need to publish more than their primary contract allows.
7. Creating an Intentional Persona or Mythology
The pseudonym isn’t always about hiding; sometimes, it’s about performing.
Authors like Lemony Snicket (Daniel Handler) or street artists like Banksy don’t just use a name; they use a persona that adds texture and intrigue to their work.
Enhanced Mysteriousness: An intentionally obscure or unusual name can generate interest and fuel discussion around the identity of the creator.
Building a Character: The pen name acts as a character in itself—a brand ambassador who may have a slightly different voice or temperament than the person behind the keyboard. This allows the creator to take creative risks that they might be too inhibited to take under their own name.
The Power is in the Choice
Choosing a pseudonym is not an exercise in subterfuge; it is a profound act of creative self-determination. It gives you the power to define your brand, manage your privacy, and ensure your creative work is judged precisely how you intend it to be.
Whether you seek protection, separation, or simply a name that sounds better on the bestseller list, the strategic use of a pseudonym can be the key to unlocking the next level of your professional journey.
Do you work under a pseudonym? What was the primary reason you decided to adopt an alter ego? Share your story in the comments below!
The Henan Museum is one of the oldest museums in China. In June 1927, General Feng Yuxiang proposed that a museum be built, and it was completed the next year. In 1961, along with the move of the provincial capital, Henan Museum moved from Kaifeng to Zhengzhou.
It currently holds about 130,000 individual pieces, more of which are mostly cultural relics, bronze vessels of the Shang and Zhou Dynasties, and pottery and porcelain wares of the various dynasties.
Eventually, we arrive at the museum and get off the bus adjacent to a scooter track and despite the efforts of the guide, there’s no stopping them from nearly running us over.
We arrive to find the museum has been moved to a different and somewhat smaller building nearby as the existing, and rather distinctively designed, building is being renovated.
While we are waiting for the tickets to enter, we are given another view of industrial life in that there is nothing that resembles proper health and safety on worksites in this country, and the workers are basically standing on what looks to be a flimsy bamboo ladder with nothing to stop them from falling off.
The museum itself has exhibits dating back a few thousand years and consist of bronze and ceramic items. One of the highlights was a tortoiseshell with reportedly the oldest know writing ever found.
Other than that it was a series of cooking utensils, a table, and ceramic pots, some in very good condition considering their age.
Thrills, Spills, and just a dash of Romance 