Step 8: It's Time To Revise, Discovery Writers. Where Do You Start?

 Chapter 8:  Revision (time to shift gears) : Evaluating Draft One/ Checking the structure

Congratulations! You've completed your first draft. That puts you ahead of about 95% of people who want to write a novel. Take a moment to appreciate what you've accomplished.

Now, put your manuscript in a drawer and don't look at it for a few days. I’ll often let it sit a week. Some say you need a few weeks or even a month. I don’t have the time for that. Or the patience. You do need to try and create distance between your writing of your first draft and revision though

I do agree that if you just go back to the beginning and start revising your manuscript, you won’t have the distance to flip that switch you need to flip to analyze/edit for revision. You’ll often get stuck just changing words here and there or details. You need a broader look at the manuscript to have an effective revision.

Go back and look at your notes and work through any messages you had for yourself. Also if you have places where you used the placeholder summary, now go ahead and try to write those scenes. It will be easier now that you have a full manuscript with a beginning, middle and end. If you know of a chapter that is weak, go work on that. What you’re doing here is shoring up the first draft a little. This might take you a few days or maybe a week.

When you come back, approach your manuscript as a reader, not its writer. Print it out if possible, or transfer it to an e-reader—anything to make it look different from how you saw it while writing. Read it straight through without making corrections, just taking occasional notes

This first read-through isn't about fixing anything once you’ve done your touching up of draft one and let the manuscript sit for a couple of days or week. It's about seeing what you actually wrote. Not what you thought you were writing. The two are rarely the same, especially for discovery writers. 

As you read, you'll notice problems. Lots of them. This is normal and good. Finding problems means you're developing the critical eye needed for effective revision. Here's what to look for:

Structural Issues

The big picture stuff. Does your story have a clear beginning, middle, and end? Does it build logically from one event to the next? Are there sections that drag or feel rushed? Is there a satisfying arc of tension and release?

Many discovery writers find their true beginning several chapters into the draft. Often, those first few chapters were you, the writer, figuring out the story. Readers don't need to watch you warm up.

Similarly, you might find your ending comes too abruptly or drags on too long. Mark these sections but don't fix them yet—just identify where the structure needs work.

Character Inconsistencies

Discovery writers often find their understanding of characters evolves during drafting. The Sarah in chapter twenty might be quite different from the Sarah in chapter two.

Note these inconsistencies without judgment. They're not failures; they're discoveries about who your character truly is. Later, you'll decide which version to keep and revise accordingly.

Pay special attention to motivation. Do your characters' actions make sense given what we know about them? If not, you'll need to either change the actions or deepen the characterization to make them believable.

Plot Holes and Logic Problems

How did your character know information you never showed them learning? Why didn't they use the magical ability in chapter five that would have solved the problem in chapter twelve? How did winter turn to summer in what was supposed to be a week of story time?

These continuity errors are the discovery writer's special curse. List them all. Some will be easy fixes; others might require major restructuring.

The "But Why?" Test

For key plot points, ask "But why?" If you can't answer clearly, you've found a weakness. Why did the villain kidnap the hero's sister? Why did the protagonist quit her job? If your answer is "because I needed it for the plot," you likely have a problem.

The Missing Scenes

Discovery writers often find they've skipped crucial scenes—moments that need to be shown but were bypassed. Maybe you jumped from the argument directly to the reconciliation without showing how the characters got there. Note where these gaps exist.

The Unnecessary Scenes

Conversely, discovery writing produces scenes that may not earn their keep. Often these happen because you the writer are trying to understand some aspect of the story or develop character. These can likely be cut for the reader.

Theme and Meaning

What is your novel actually about beneath the plot? What patterns, images, or ideas keep recurring? Discovery writers often find their themes emerge organically during drafting. Identifying these themes will help you focus on using them in the best ways to improve your manuscript.

How do you organize all these observations without getting overwhelmed? Break them down into categories.

Major Reconstruction: Fundamental problems requiring significant rewriting. "The middle section has no tension." "The protagonist's motivation makes no sense." "The ending contradicts what we know about the character." 

Notable Issues: Specific problems that need addressing but don't require rebuilding entire sections. "The best friend disappears for 100 pages." "The subplot about the neighbor never connects to the main story." These usually require additions.

Minor Fixes: Small continuity errors, inconsistent details, etc. "Eye color changes from blue to brown." "Character mentions a sister who never appears."

Focus first on understanding the major reconstruction needed. The minor stuff is easy to fix once the foundation is solid.

One warning: this evaluation phase can be emotionally brutal. You'll wonder how you didn't notice these problems while writing. You'll question your ability. You'll contemplate burning the manuscript and becoming a pig farmer or dog trainer or….

This is normal. Every novelist goes through it. Even the really good writers don’t get everything right on the first try.

Finding problems is not a sign of failure either. Ah contraire, it’s a sign of growth. Your ability to see these issues means you're developing the critical skills necessary to become a better writer.

Also as a discovery writer your first draft is going to wander and it’s going to be messy and disorganized in places. Expect this. Embrace it. Now you have the chance to revise and rework it and make it the best novel you can.

ALSO:

I'm publishing a short book on these 12 steps to Building A Novel, including some bonus material. It's on Amazon on preorder, pub date Oct. 9. I've revised some of what you've read but not extensively. I will continue to post the steps here until I've posted them all. 

The amazon book will be available in ebook and paperback, so if you want a copy to keep, you can get it here:

 https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0FSHQ9QF1?ref_=pe_93986420_775043100

 

Here's the beginning—

About Me: 

I have an MFA in Writing, and I taught creative writing at the college level for a decade, but these aren’t why I think my book on writing can help you become a better writer. It’s because I’ve written well over a million words and plan to write many, many more. I love to write. I’m a writer. That’s why.

I’ve had five novels trad published and won a few awards and sold a few copies. I’ve written another twenty plus novels as an independent writer. My Strangely Scary Funny series has sold copies into the six figures. I know how to write novels. I'll do my best to give you some tools that will help you build your own novel. This is a short book crammed full of advice that will take you from ideas to begin your novel to those last two words at the end which are, oddly enough, THE END.

  Besides the 12 steps to writing a novel, I’ve included bonus sections on what not to do, character creation and development, and a little encouragement section. Writing a novel is tough. No use pretending otherwise. But it is fun, engaging, and you may find that it’s a positive addiction you can enjoy over a lifetime. With a bit of luck, you might even earn some cash or win awards or accomplish whatever your specific goals are.

I wish you a bit of luck. You’re a writer if you write. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.

 

INTRODUCTION

12 Steps To Building A Novel: Especially For Discovery (Pantsers, same thing) Writers  

You don’t need an outline but you do need the right tools.

Here's the truth: you don't need an outline to write a novel. What you need is courage and determination. The process you use to find your way isn’t all that important. Outline, don’t outline. Find what works for you and do that.

However, I’m here for the discovery writers because that’s my process. I’m going to try to tell you how to build a novel. Hope it helps.

My dad was a builder of homes. He had a regular job working for the post-office but his passion was building houses. While working full-time at the post-office, he’d build two or three houses a year. 

I can remember him taking me to lots he’d bought and telling me what kind of house was going to be built there. Empty lot one day. Foundation poured the next. Then weeks and months passed and the frame, the walls, the roof. Then the inside of the house: plumbing, appliances, electricity, paint and so on.  Eventually, a house was built to be lived in.

“If you build it they will come” is an oft-used quote from the movie Field of Dreams. Sadly, that’s not always the case, but if you build it you have a chance that they will come. If you don’t, you just have an empty lot.

Discovery Writers In Step 7 Discover Their Ending

 Step 7: Discovery Writers in step 7 Discover Their Ending

You’ve survived the middle. You can see daylight. But now comes another challenge for discovery writers: how do you end this thing?

Endings are tricky for all novelists, but especially for those of us who work without a roadmap. You’ve been following breadcrumbs through the forest, and now you need to find your way home—a home you haven’t actually seen yet.

The good news? By this point, your story knows what it wants to be. Your characters have revealed their true natures. The themes have emerged. Your job now is to listen to what your draft is telling you and find the ending that feels inevitable yet surprising.

Sure, you say, but what does that mean? It means you have set up a series of events and character development and development of setting that are leading your characters to an inevitable ending. Follow it.

The first rule for discovery writers, as I have said repeatedly, is finish your draft. An imperfect ending that you can revise is infinitely better than a perfect ending that exists only in your head. Give yourself permission to write an ending that’s “good enough for now.”

How do you know what your ending should be? Start by asking these questions:

What has your protagonist learned? The ending should demonstrate how your character has been changed in some way through the events of the story and his or her own growth or transformation.

What promises did your beginning make? If you opened with a mystery, it should be solved. If you began with a character wanting something, they should either get it or discover they wanted the wrong thing all along. In other words, discover something, learn something, through failing that gives the story meaning.

What would feel emotionally satisfying? Logic matters less than emotional truth in endings. What would give readers the emotional closure they need, even if some plot threads remain loose?

When I’m struggling to find my ending, I’ll often go back to the first few chapters and look for clues I left myself without realizing it at the time. Or maybe an offhand observation can lead you to a satisfying ending.

Discovery writers frequently find that their endings were hiding in plain sight all along. Trust the groundwork your subconscious has been laying.

Fiction writing is always a mix of conscious and subconscious decisions. You can write something you don’t quite understand but feel is right. That something might lead you to a clear understanding of your theme later, especially in revision when the EDITOR part of your brain takes over.

Some practical approaches when the ending eludes you are the following:

Write multiple endings: Draft two or three different conclusions to your story. Sometimes the act of writing one ending clarifies why a different ending would work better.

The cinematic approach: Visualize your ending as a series of images. What’s the final scene that would stay with readers? Work backward from there.

Ask the “what if?” question: What if the villain won? What if your protagonist failed but found something more valuable? What if the external goal turned out to be a distraction from what really matters to the character internally?

Follow emotional arcs to their conclusion: If your character started fearful, where might courage lead them? If they began selfish, how would newfound empathy change their choices?

How do you know when you’ve reached “the end” of draft one? When the primary problem of the story has been resolved or transformed in a meaningful way. When your protagonist has completed their emotional journey, for better or worse. When the central question of your novel has been answered. You may not know all these things. Or you may find out in revision that you can deepen the groundwork you’ve laid.

Your ending doesn’t need to tie up every loose end. In fact, some of the most powerful endings leave certain threads for readers to ponder. But the central promise of your story needs fulfillment.

What about those stubborn stories that resist ending? We’ve all been there—250 pages in and still no clear conclusion in sight. When this happens, it’s usually because:

1.     You’re afraid to finish because then you’ll have to face revision.

2.     You’ve got too many plot threads and can’t resolve them all.

3.     You never clarified what your story was truly about.

For the first problem, set a deadline and stick to it. For the second, decide which threads matter most and focus on resolving those. Understand you may need to do serious cutting in revision. For the third, go back to your foundation—what was the core of this story? End there. Again, you may have to guess at your core in draft one. That’s fine. You’ll figure it out in revision.

Remember: first-draft endings are rarely perfect. Mine certainly aren’t. I’ve written “placeholder” endings just to get to the finish line, knowing I’ll completely rewrite them later.

Let me emphasize once again that a first draft is a beginning and not an end. It is an accomplishment. You have proven to yourself that you can write an entire novel from beginning to end.

So, write your ending. Make it as good as you can with what you know right now. Then type those magical words: “The End.”

Celebrate! You’ve done something remarkable.

Let me make one last important point (again) before we move on to Revision: This is, I think, an essential part of being a discovery writer. You have to have faith in your ability to find your way without a map. You have to have faith in your subconscious and your ability to make connections that will lead you to other connections in revision. As a discovery writer, it’s important you don’t try to edit when you’re writing the first draft. Let me explain. It’s all very scientific. Your brain will get in the way of your brain. Terrible when that happens. Your wild creative story-making brain cannot run free when the nagging editor brain starts criticizing. They start to argue. They really go at it. You get lost or stuck or worse.

You’ve got to run wild in draft 1. Then, in revision your analytical (editorial) self must take over and look for problems and ways to generally and specifically improve the manuscript. The revision is essential, too. In revision, you must calm the “run wild” part of your brain with practical decisions. Of course there will be a bit of overlap, but work to keep these two separate as much as possible.

Now, as we move into the next phase of building your novel, you’ll need to use the analytical/editorial brain. A first draft is not the true end. It is the end of the first part of your journey (bit of a mixed metaphor here, forgive me) and the beginning of the second.

Discovery Writers: Learn How To Build A Novel Your Way. Step 6: How To Get Through The Middle

 Step 6: Discovery Writers: Building Through the Middle & Avoiding Collapse & Devastation

Welcome to the middle of your novel, the place where dreams go to die. Too harsh? Maybe. But the middle is where countless first drafts collapse under their own weight. It’s where that initial burst of inspiration fades, where plot holes become gaping sinkholes, and where you start wondering if you had any business trying to write a novel in the first place.

The good news? Every novelist experiences this. The better news? There are ways through it.

Let’s be honest about what happens in the middle. You’ve written the exciting beginning. Your characters are established. The initial conflict is underway. And now you’re facing the vast expanse of pages between that setup and the climax you might vaguely envision. It’s like looking across the Grand Canyon and trying to figure out how to build a bridge as you walk across.

For discovery writers, this is the ultimate test. Without an outline as your safety net, you’re truly exploring unknown territory in the middle. Here’s some practical advice on how to navigate the middle without your novel collapsing:

Understand the Function of the Middle: The middle isn’t just filler between beginning and end. It’s where your story develops depth and complexity. It’s where characters evolve, relationships transform, and simple problems reveal their true complexity. Embrace this rather than fight it.

Create a “Midpoint Revelation”: Even without knowing your ending, try to engineer a significant revelation or twist around the middle of your book. This creates a pivot point that divides your novel into “before” and “after,” instantly giving structure to that shapeless middle. It might be a new understanding of the problem, a betrayal, a raised stake, or a shift in your character’s goal. However, if you don’t have this, it might also be a place where you mark it up for your revision, with some ideas that you might try in revision.

When I was struggling with the middle of my novel, The Librarian and the Monsters of the Apocalypse, I realized that I needed to develop the larger story—the king taking over the country of America after the apocalypse. I found that developing this aspect of the story helped me realize how my story for the particular novel in the series, fit with that larger plot. I was able to develop both in more detail, and the story deepened and the plot expanded.

The Try/Fail Cycle: One of the simplest ways to generate middle material is the try/fail cycle. I love the try/fail cycle. I’ve used it a lot., Your character tries to solve their problem, fails, faces a new complication, tries again, fails differently. Each attempt should be logical but lead to unexpected results or at least believable ones that push the story forward. This naturally creates escalation and keeps readers engaged on a local level. As always, though the reader needs to feel they’re progressing toward some ultimate ending, so the try/fail needs to be linked to the main plot or a subplot in some way.

Follow the Consequences: When stuck, look back at what’s already happened and ask, “What are the realistic consequences of these events?” Often, you’ve already planted seeds for your next developments without realizing it. That’s discovery writing. Trust your subconscious.

Introduce New but Related Problems: As initial problems move toward resolution, introduce new complications that are organically connected. The detective solves one murder but discovers it’s connected to three more. The couple resolves their misunderstanding but now faces opposition from family. This layering of problems or goals keeps your middle from feeling episodic or repetitive.

Deepen Character Relationships: The middle is where relationships get complicated. You’ve set up some conflicts. Work on developing them in the middle. These might be romantic relationships or friendships or enemies. Conflict is essential to any story. The middle calls for some development of conflict in order to keep the story interesting.

Manipulate Plot : Trap your characters together in a situation they can’t easily escape, physically or metaphorically, that forces conflict and revelation. A snowstorm strands enemies in the same place. A family secret requires estranged siblings to work together to save their parents.

Remember the Subplots: If your main plot is stalling, shift focus to a subplot for a while. This gives you a mental break while still moving the story forward. Often, working on the subplot will illuminate solutions for your main plot.

The Placeholder Scene: When truly stuck, write a bare-bones scene with minimal description. Sometimes a “placeholder” gets you past the block. Later, you’ll replace it with a properly written scene, but for now, it will help you keep momentum.

The List of Ten: When you don’t know what happens next, make a list of ten possibilities—from the obvious to the outlandish. Force yourself to complete the list even when it gets hard. Then use the most compelling option, even if it’s not what you initially expected.

Raise Personal Stakes: The middle is where external conflicts should become deeply personal for your protagonist. What started as a simple job becomes a quest for redemption. A new relationship brings back a childhood trauma. Finding the killer becomes about the narrator facing some demons from his past. Make it personal.

Trust the Process, Trust Yourself: The middle is where a discovery writer has to trust his or her subconscious. Trust your instincts that your subconscious will make mostly the right choices. You will find your way. The time for analysis and decisions about good and bad choices is in revision.

Here’s what NOT to do in the middle:

Don’t introduce too many new characters. The middle isn’t where you want to start a whole lot of new threads.

Don’t suddenly shift to a completely unrelated plotline out of desperation.

Don’t resolve your main tension too early unless you have a stronger one to finish with.

And above all, don’t stop writing just because it feels hard or messy.

The middle of your novel looks skeletal and unfinished. It’s like the frame of a house. It’s something, but it’s hard to know what exactly at this point.

Keep writing, keep building, in the middle. The blueprint exists in your subconscious. Keep pushing forward until the blueprint reveals itself.

The only way through it is to push through. Just like with the beginning, you need to write one scene at a time and build on what you wrote before.

A FINAL IMPORTANT SUGGESTION

Let me propose something that some of you might embrace. Yes, the middle is challenging. But instead of thinking of it like many do (especially many writing in writing advice books), try to think of it as an opportunity. It can be a place where you use your creativity to come up with exciting additions and creations to your characters, setting, and story. Have fun with it or at least approach it like a chance to use an essential part of your writing—your imagination. Embrace this part of your novel, which is, after all, essential to developing your story.

FOR DISCOVERY WRITERS: How To Build Your Novel, Step 5, How to move on from your first pages

 How To Build Your Novel: Step 5, Start framing, move on from beginning

So you’ve started your novel. Congrats! The foundation is laid, and the first chapters are taking shape. Now comes what might be the hardest part for discovery  writers (and even those using outlines): continuing.

I’d say a lot of writers have a crisis once they’ve got a beginning and start moving toward or into the middle of a novel.

This is where many novels die. Not because the ideas aren’t good, but because the middle is hard for every writer. Some writers, especially less experienced ones, think what they need to do is go back to the beginning and revise. WARNING, THIS CAN BE FATAL. These writers often get stuck in an endless loop of rewriting the first chapters instead of moving forward.  Think Groundhog Day for writers.

Let’s be clear: momentum is everything for discovery writers.

Every single day you write, you have two choices—move forward or circle back. Moving forward builds your novel. Circling back often kills it. (Again, this is a rule that can be broken once you know what works for you, but I would be wary of circling back, especially if you’re an inexperienced writer. The way is fraught with dangers.)

So let me make the argument for pushing forward. When you’re discovery writing, you don’t yet know what your story is truly about. Each new scene you write teaches you something about your characters, your world, your conflicts. If you keep revising the beginning, you’re working with incomplete information. You’re trying to perfect a foundation for a building whose final shape you don’t yet know.

Clearly, this is risky and likely counterproductive. And, as previously mentioned, fraught with peril.

So how do you maintain that crucial forward momentum? Here are some potential strategies.

Low Expectations. Anne Lamott famously coined the term “shitty first draft,”. Most writers write a crappy first draft. Give yourself permission to write badly. Perfectionism is the enemy of discovery. Your only job in draft one is to get the story out, mess and all. You’ll fix it later. So yes, for the first draft think low expectations! [I can’t overemphasize the importance of reverse engineering for discovery writers. More on this later, but it is just one more reason to keep writing. Reverse engineering works best when you have a draft done and an idea, however rough, of your entire story.]

The Note-and-Move-On Method: When you realize something earlier needs changing—maybe a character’s motivation or a plot point—don’t go back to fix it. Instead, make a quick note (I use bold text inside brackets like [FIX: Sarah needs to know about the key before this scene]) and keep writing as if you’ve already made that change. Your future self will handle it during revision.

The Daily Target: Set a word count or time goal for each writing session and stick to it. I like to write around 2,000-3,000 words a day. In later drafts, I might get even more because I’m revising rather than writing something new.  This can take me between 2-4 hours. If you’re a new writer, think more along the lines of 500 words a day. Pick what works for you. If you write 500 words a day almost every day, you have a draft in less than six months. If you write 1000 words a day, you'll have a draft in 2-3 months.

The Placeholder Technique: When you hit a scene you don’t know how to write yet—maybe it requires research or you’re just not sure what happens—insert a placeholder. Something like [SCENE: Karen confronts her boss about the missing files]. Then skip it and continue with the next scene you do feel ready to write. If more comes to you about the scene, add it as you move forward. If not, wait until draft two. Also, I use the same technique for notes to myself about something I need to work in or something I need to reveal later or whatever. This note strategy helps keep me engaged and thinking about the connections in a story.

The “What If?” Escape Hatch: When you’re truly stuck, ask yourself, “What’s the most interesting thing that could happen right now?” Not the most logical or the most expected—the most interesting. Then write that. Discovery writing is about following energy, not logic. You can make it logical later. REALLY. Even if you don’t know how you’re going to make something work, you can often find a way. Typically, if you’re like me, you’ll keep thinking about solving a plot problem and eventually something will come to you. Usually when you’re taking a shower or bath or walking the dogs or driving or in bed and can’t sleep (possibly because that damn problem is keeping you awake).

The No-Rereading Rule: This one is for the perfectionist. Don’t reread if you’re going to be tempted into rewriting. There are people who rewrite their first chapter again and again and again. Maybe it becomes a very good first chapter after weeks or months, BUT the writer who does this seldom moves on to chapters 2,3,4, let alone chapters 20, etc.

The “Sketching” Approach: When you’re uncertain about a scene but know you need something there, write it in “sketch” form—bare-bones action and dialogue without detail or polish. Getting the scene’s skeleton down lets you move forward, and you can flesh it out during revision.

The hardest part about discovery writing is trusting that your subconscious knows where it’s going even when your conscious mind doesn’t. There will be days when you feel completely lost in your own story. That’s normal. Use the sketch approach or the placeholder.

Then there’s the dreaded middle of the novel where discovery writers earn their stripes. Without an outline, you will hit points where you have no idea what happens next. You will be tempted to go back to the beginning and start over with a “better idea.” Resist this with every fiber of your being.

What To Do When You’re Stuck.

When working on some novels, I’ll come to a point, say about page 150 ,where I’m convinced I've written myself into a corner. Nothing makes sense. The plot seems unsalvageable. I considered trashing the whole manuscript. Instead, I force myself to write one more scene. Then another. And another. By page 200, I’ve discovered a thread that ties everything together in a way I never could have planned. But I would never have found it if I’d gone back to page one. This doesn’t happen every time I write a novel (thank God) but it has happened several times.

What about the days when you sit down and absolutely nothing comes? We all have them. On those days, give yourself a ridiculously small goal. Write one paragraph. One sentence, even. Often, that’s enough to prime the pump. If not, try writing a scene you know happens later in the book. The key is to write something that moves the story forward, even if it’s not always a chronological scene.

Remember this: your first draft has one primary job—to exist.

That’s it. It doesn’t need to be good. It just needs to be complete. Once you have a full draft, especially a first draft with an ENDING, no matter how rough, you have something real to work with. You can’t revise what isn’t written.

So, frame your novel one scene at a time. Keep moving forward. Trust that the structure will emerge, even if you can’t see it yet. And remember that every successful novelist has felt the way you may feel at some point in your novel writing—lost, uncertain, doubtful. The difference between success and failure? The success kept writing.

That’s what separates the novelists from the dreamers who would love to write a novel some day.  Not talent. Not inspiration. Just the simple, stubborn act of moving forward, one word after another, until you reach the end.

The view is worth it once you get there. If you do get there, celebrate yourself. You have done something 95% of those who talk about writing a novel never do. You’ve written a first draft from beginning to end. Congratulations!