When I started writing my first book, I didn’t plot. I chose a time period I loved and imagined a dynamic, larger-than-life hero and a heroine who was a lot like me. Since it was a romance, I knew it ended up with them together and happy. But that was all I knew. About three chapters in, my characters came to life. There was no other means to describe the way they appeared to me, alive and real, with all the nuances of actual people. They seemed to act of their own volition, doing things I hadn’t planned or expected. It was like watching a movie, as they led me through their world, showing me their story. It was exhilarating. Thrilling. And I was instantly smitten with writing fiction.
Of course, I got stuck. When that happened, I would put myself into the heads of my characters and things would start flowing again. I believe I got by with this technique because I had read so many books that on some intuitive level, I knew how the story needed to unfold and my subconscious, through my characters, created the plot points necessary to match that story arc.
Then I began a second book, and about the same time, joined my first critique group. My characters still spoke to me, but so did my critique partners. Among other things, they explained my characters were taking my story in directions that didn’t work for a romance plot. It was hard to hear. I trusted my characters. How could I push them to be something other than what they were? How could I force them to behave according to the rules? It didn’t seem right to alter their story to meet the expectations of the genre. I felt like I was betraying them.
But I trusted my critique partners, and based on their input I tried to nudge my characters back onto the traditional path. With my third and fourth books, I came to accept that I couldn’t follow my characters everywhere they led me, or my book would end up a meandering mess. I gradually asserted more control over them. After all, they weren’t truly real. I had created them and I could refine them and perfect them. I didn’t have to use everything they did or said in my book. I could take them back to the point where the book was working and push them in another direction, one that better served the plot. It involved a lot of rewriting. I probably threw away a fourth or a third of my rough drafts. But I believed in the process.
But then I lost my editor, who had loved everything I wrote. I started submitting to other houses, and the rejections came in. I found them more distressing than the ones I got before I sold my first book. Getting published made me think I knew what I was doing. Apparently not. I started to trust my characters less and less. Still, occasionally they could enthrall me, carry me away, and make me believe that writing was magical.
Fast forward another fifteen years, and I have to say my relationship to my characters is sometimes a bit strained. I still love them and all, but do I trust them? And do they trust me? They don’t speak to me as freely as they used to. Or maybe their voices are drowned out by all the other voices. The nagging memories of critique partners reminding me of sloppy writing habits. The criticisms of the several dozen agents and editors who’ve rejected my work since my first successes. The internal voice that haunts me with reminders about the market and how and what I should be writing.
But lately I’ve thought more and more about my characters and how important they are. They are the conduit for the magic. I can’t plot without them. And I certainly can’t write without them. I need to let them in again. Honor them and make them an important part of my day. I’ve neglected them far too much. Pushing them aside. Dismissing them. It’s time to let them back into my head, at least until the rough draft is finished. Then I’ll worry about whether they’ve taken me in circles or down plot pathways better left unexplored.
It’s a delicate balance. To give them complete control is to risk a rambling and fatally flawed storyline. But to neglect them is equally disastrous. Without them, I can’t plot, can’t write, can’t imagine. They are my creativity come to life. I must give them their due.
I’m with you on the concept of strict outline versus first draft freedom to just write. I know that writing without an outline slows me down, but it’s the freedom to charge ahead without a plan that I enjoy most about writing.
I definitely like the thrill of seeing where my characters take me. But they do sometimes create a lot of work for me as well. Which, of course, I need to stop thinking about and just write! Thanks for stopping by, Pat.
Oh I totally agree with this! I’m a pantser and if my characters don’t talk to me, I can’t write. Once I get their stories down, then I start editing, at which point, I turn off my characters and turn on my critique partners. It’s a delicate balance, but I truly believe there’s room for all of them, in their proper place.
I suspect your characters and critique partners get along better than mine do! But you are right, it is a balance between inspiration and making things work for the story. Thanks for stopping by!
I get this. I have to love my characters, warts and all, too. And they DO often sneak out at night and do things they KNOW they’re not supposed to do. But I kinda like that. That’s what makes them real to me, and I hope, to my readers. If we keep trying to enforce that curfew, they end up just getting wilder. I say, let ’em go. Maybe you’ll want to tag along and see what they’re up to. Maybe it will be bad stuff that you have to save them from, but maybe it’s a place you just wouldn’t have gone by yourself but really like when you get there. If you’re not enjoying the process, and don’t love your characters like you used to, maybe it’s time to let them grow up a bit, or for you to find new friends to play with. Write on!
Good to know I’m not the only one with characters who are sometimes obstinate and challenging! After 20 years I’m still trying to find the perfect balance. Cheers!
Wonderful post, Mary. I am a plotter first, pantser second. Yet, I never stop listening to my characters. In truth, when I start to control too much, I find I’m struggling to write. I’m a control, Type A person, so to give control to my characters was a challenge. My voice is secondary to theirs. All the best, Mary. 🙂
Great warning about the difficulties of following up on success. Thank you.
As always, a wonderful post, Mary. Although — or perhaps because — I’m a confirmed plotter and could never write the way you do, I’m intrigued by your process. It’s fascinating to see that all of us struggle with our stories, no matter whether we’re plotters or pantsers.