Brian Yansky's Blog

 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.

 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.

 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!

FROM BUILDING YOUR NOVEL

Step 4: Starting Construction - The Crucial First Chapters (Tips for Discovery Writers)

Yes, the first chapters are probably the most important chapters of your novel, BUT they’re also the most likely to be rewritten—so there’s that.

The first chapters of your novel are both the most important and the most likely to be deeply rewritten later in revision. Most important because, especially in the time we live in, if you don’t get the reader very quickly, if you don’t pull them in and keep them turning pages, they will put your book down faster than a hot plate.

So, keep this in mind. You need to pull the reader into your story in the first chapters. How can you do that if you don’t know what your story is? Good question. Just get something down in draft one and realize you’ll come back to it. IMPORTANT: Do come back to it in revision once you know your story and, hopefully, the end of your story.

And here’s something else to keep in mind. INCITING INCIDENT. On a practical note: get to it as fast as possible. More on that in a bit.

First chapters are tricky. They need to hook readers, establish voice, introduce characters, hint at conflicts, and set expectations for the entire book. Oh, and they need to do all this while being compelling enough that someone keeps reading. But again, it doesn’t need to happen in the first draft. You can figure it out when you revise.

The first chapter you initially write might not even end up being your first chapter. But you do need to start somewhere, and starting strong will build your confidence and momentum. Also, it will help you find your way forward to an important early moment, the inciting incident in your story that propels the story forward.

So how do you begin when you’re a discovery writer who doesn’t know where the story is ultimately headed?

Start with action or disruption. I mean, start at a point where something is changing for your main character. The day that’s different. The moment their ordinary world cracks. Make the place you start important in some way, even if it’s not an earth-shattering way.

What you’re doing is creating narrative momentum. You’re making a promise to the reader: “Keep reading. I’m leading you to something interesting.” You’re also making that same promise to yourself. It will help you keep writing.

When introducing characters, resist the urge to tell us everything about them at once. We don’t need their full backstory in Chapter One. Show us who they are through their actions, thoughts, and dialogue in that opening situation. Let us discover them the same way you’re discovering them—gradually, through what they do and don’t do, say and don’t say. You are a discovery writer. Share your discovery with your readers.

One technique I love is starting with a character wanting something—even something small. A character in pursuit of a goal, even a mundane one, immediately creates questions in the reader’s mind. Will they get it? What stands in their way? Why does it matter to them? This helps the reader begin to care for the character and root for them, AND it creates story. I say even a mundane goal will work, but not for the entire novel. You need important goals as you move forward and for the heart of your novel.

Setting the tone happens naturally if you’re true to your voice and foundation. Is this a tense thriller? A contemplative literary novel? A whimsical fantasy? Your word choices, sentence structure, and what you choose to focus on will establish this. Trust your instincts here.

How Do You Start With Purpose While Leaving Room To Discover Story?

Now, the big question for discovery writers: how do you start with purpose while still leaving room to discover the story? The trick is to focus on immediate scenes rather than the big picture. Don’t worry about setting up plot points that will pay off 200 pages later (you can reverse engineer this later). Focus on making the current scene compelling on its own terms. You write a novel one page, one chapter at a time. The more you write, the more confident you’ll become in your choices.

Now, you do have a way to push action forward early in your novel. You make something happen to your character or your character does something that is compelling and that pushes the story forward. This is called an inciting incident. It’s what propels the story forward. In my novel, The Librarian of the Haunted Library, my protagonist leaves home and goes to New Orleans and is nearly killed but escapes and moves on. All that happens but the actual inciting incident is when he gets lost in a haunted forest and finds his way to Eden where he becomes the librarian of this magical town. (This is all done with a comic eye for exaggeration as my story is a combination of comic fantasy and horror comedy). That’s where the story really moves forward into what the whole novel will be about. You need one of these!

But as I wrote before, always remember that you’ll have a chance to revise.

Ask yourself: What’s interesting about this moment? What’s at stake for my character right now? What question does this scene raise that will make readers want to know more? This is how you build a chapter. You keep asking yourself questions that will help you develop story and character.

Common First Chapter Mistakes

Starting too early: Beginning with ordinary life before anything interesting happens for too many pages. Unless showing that ordinary life is crucial for contrast, skip ahead to something happening and get to the inciting incident as soon as you can.

Avoid Info dumping: front-loading all the world-building, character backstory, and context before the story starts moving. Resist this! Weave necessary information into active scenes instead. Don’t try to stuff your first chapters with information. You’ll bore the reader.

Really think about this: Your goal is to keep the reader turning the page. Sometimes you’ll realize you’re writing something that isn’t working or is boring or is trying to force too much information into the chapter. You’ll be telling instead of showing, but you’ll convince yourself it’s okay because it will lead the reader to some cool stuff in 50 pages.

The reader will never get to page 50. You have to focus on making every scene move the story forward or move our understanding of the character forward. Focus on developing story and, depending on what genre you write in, character first and then setting.

Opening with a dream or a character waking up is almost always a bad idea. Beware of this kind of cliché beginning (of course, you can break any “rule” like this if you do it in some interesting new way but…mostly that doesn’t happen).

If you’re stuck on how to begin, you might try one of these practical approaches:

Write three different openings for your novel, starting at different points in the story. See which one feels most energetic and intriguing.

Start in the middle of a conversation or action, then fill in context as you go.

Open with a question, statement, or observation in your character’s voice that reveals something essential about them. Then move on to something happening that relates to the observation. Then revise immediately so it is in narrative form.

Remember, your first draft’s opening chapters are not set in stone. Many discovery writers find their true beginning after writing the entire first draft. You might realize your story actually starts in what you originally wrote as chapter three. That’s fine. That’s part of the process.

What matters now is getting words on the page with enough energy and direction that you want to keep going. Your first chapters should be exciting for you to write. If you’re bored writing them, readers will be bored reading them. Let me just write that again: If you’re bored with your writing, readers will be bored.

Trust your instincts. If a particular opening feels alive to you—if it raises questions you’re genuinely curious to explore—chances are it will do the same for readers.

Now go write those first chapters. They can be messy and imperfect. What they can’t be is boring. As you’re writing those first chapters and getting excited about your story, you’ll likely have all kinds of ideas about where your story can go. Be bold. Push forward.

 Building Your Novel, Step 3: The Foundation (Tips for Discovery Writers)

Learn how to build a solid foundation for your novel as a discovery writer. Explore character-based, situation-based, and setting-based foundations with practical exercises.

You’ve got your ideas. You’ve collected your materials. Now, you need to figure out what your novel is actually about. At least, that's what the novel rests on. The foundation, to keep playing out the metaphor.

Every building needs a foundation. So does your novel. This doesn’t mean plotting out the entire story. It means identifying the core elements that everything else will build upon. For discovery writers, this is crucial. Without at least knowing what you’re building on, you might end up with a pile of scenes instead of a novel. (Just as a side note, eventually in revision, you’ll want each scene to move the story forward. A sense of progression is essential. But more on that later.)

Your foundation will be a combination of character, plot and setting and their interaction in your story. Often it will start with your character in a situation that is set in a specific place (fantastic, realistic, horrific etc.) and expand from there.

Let’s break it down:

Character-Based Foundation: 

Maybe you can’t stop thinking about a particular character. You hear their voice in your head. You know how they’d react in different situations. Their personality feels real to you.

This was the case with the first novel in my Strangely Scary Funny series, The Librarian of the Haunted Library. I knew I had this young man, who had special magical abilities and had grown up in foster care and wanted to escape the small town he was in. I knew that he would go to New Orleans first, but that was just the beginning of his journey. Did I know what the journey was? Big fat NO. I was surprised where the novel went after that, but it began with this idea of my protagonist being a potential hero on a journey.

If your foundation is character, spend time understanding who they are. Not their favorite color or what they eat for breakfast—unless those details reveal something essential. Understand what they want. What they fear. What they believe about themselves that is and isn’t true. What wound from their past still shapes their decisions. Go after their core beliefs and disbeliefs.

You don’t need to write this all down in some character bible. Just think about it. Daydream about them. Let them become real to you as you write. AS YOU WRITE. You’re a discovery writer. Discover.

Situation-Based Foundation:

Sometimes what grabs you isn’t a character but a situation—a problem, a mystery, a conflict that demands resolution.

“What if a man woke up as a giant insect?” That situation was all Kafka needed to write “The Metamorphosis.” From this foundation, he built the kind of character this might happen to and the theme of his story. A character in a situation. This is something I almost always get to as I’m constructing my novel.

“What if dinosaurs were brought back to life in the modern world?” That question was the foundation of Jurassic Park. It needed the right cast of characters to make it interesting and compelling. It needed the right story to keep the suspense moving things forward. That will come as you build the novel.

If your foundation is a situation, spend time exploring the implications. Who would be most affected by this situation? Why does it matter? What are the stakes? What complications might arise?

Setting-Based Foundation: 

Sometimes the foundation is a place—real or imagined—that feels alive with story potential. A small town in the South with good and bad people in it but with mostly average people, part good and part bad, stuck in their prejudices. A white woman accuses a Black man of raping her. TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD.

Middle-earth was Tolkien’s foundation. The haunted Overlook Hotel was King’s foundation for The Shining. Possibly their stories focused on those settings to get their stories moving. At the very least, you can see that a great deal of the story happens because of the unique and powerful settings.

If your foundation is setting, explore that world. What are its rules? Its history? Its secrets? What kind of people inhabit it? What conflicts naturally arise there?

Let’s say you want to write a novel about a city where memories can be extracted, bottled, and consumed by others. That’s an interesting setting. Now you start deciding other things. Do you want this to be a fantasy or Scifi novel? Do you want it to be comic in tone or dramatic? What kind of character do you want to move the novel in this world? What tension can you establish early on? There are so many ways to go from this simple beginning.

Here’s the thing about foundations: they need to be solid, but they don’t need to be complete. You don’t need to know everything about your character, situation, or setting before you start. You just need to know enough that it feels real and generative to you. In other words, you can build on it!

How do you know when your foundation is strong enough? When it starts generating questions you’re eager to explore. When it suggests conflicts and complications. When it feels like it contains multitudes.

For discovery writers, the trick is finding the balance between having enough foundation to build on and remaining open to discovery. Develop your core element just enough that it can support a story, then start writing to see what emerges.

Some practical approaches:

For character foundations: Write a scene showing your character in a moment of conflict, even if that scene never appears in your novel. See how they react under pressure.

For situation foundations, write out the ripple effects of your central situation. Who benefits? Who suffers? What unexpected consequences might emerge?

For setting foundations: Write a brief history of your setting, or describe how different types of people experience it differently.

None of these exercises should take more than an hour. They’re not about planning your novel; they’re about making your foundation solid enough to support the weight of a story.

Remember, you’re not trying to figure out the whole novel at this stage. You’re just making sure the ground under your feet is stable before you start building walls.

Many new writers make the mistake of trying to develop everything equally from the start—character, plot, setting, theme. That’s overwhelming and unnecessary. Focus on your foundation first. Let the rest emerge as you write. Also, be open to changing everything. That’s part of writing a discovery draft. Don’t forget this aspect. Nothing is written in stone unless you happen to write in stone. Which would be weird and cumbersome. Not advisable.

The beauty of this approach is that it plays to the strengths of discovery writers. We’re good at following threads, making connections, finding patterns as we go. But we need the solid start to ground us.

So, develop your foundation just enough. Then start building and see what happens.

My Amazon page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Brian-Y...

I’ve published over twenty novels as an independent writer and had five novels traditionally published. My Strangely Scary Funny series is my most popular. It has twelve novels. I’ve earned over six figures with that series so far. I’ve never written any of these novels using a detailed outline. If you’re struggling because you think you have to be able to write an outline to write a novel, I’m here to tell you, brothers and sisters, you do not.

In the first novel in my series, I wrote thinking that I was just going to write whatever I felt like and not worry about where it went in my first draft. I wrote it fast. I tried not to think too much. I tried to let my subconscious and intuition push it forward. Even after I’d rewritten it a few times, I wasn’t sure what it was (humorous, yes, but horror, fantasy, urban fantasy, supernatural? It seemed to have a lot of genres in it), but I thought it was pretty good whatever it was. The first two reviews were terrible, and I thought, well crap. But then people started writing reviews about how much they loved the weird and unique writing and story. So then I thought, well okay, maybe I do have something here. It now has over 3000 reviews and well over a thousand five- star reviews. The second novel in the series has over 1000 reviews. I’m still not sure what it is, but whatever it is, it’s uniquely mine.

Write what you love to write. Trust your instincts in the first draft. Revise. Be more critical in revision, but be careful not to kill what makes your writing uniquely yours. Then rewrite again. Then, hope for the best and get started on your next novel as soon as you can.

Good luck!

 Building Your Novel: STEP 2, The Best Tips for Gathering Ideas and Inspiration

How to gather ideas for a novel

So you’ve decided to take the leap. Good for you. Now, what are you going to write about?

Ideas are everywhere. That’s both the good news and the bad news. The trick isn’t finding ideas—it’s recognizing which ones you can build into a novel. A lot of that depends on you.

Let me be clear: you don’t need the perfect idea to start writing. What you need is something that excites you. Something that you can develop into a long story from, likely, several stories. Main plot, subplots, plots within plots.

For discovery writers, the best ideas aren’t fully formed plots. They’re questions. Provocations. “What if” scenarios. What if the chosen antichrist doesn’t want to be the antichrist? Begin with the actual words “What if” and try to complete the sentence.

Inspiration tips For Discovery Writers

If you’re struggling with getting started, you might try making a list of What ifs. Brainstorming like this usually works best if you make your list quickly without thinking about it too much. Come up with ten or twenty or thirty what-if scenarios. Think of people or places or themes. Or maybe you just come up with three or four, and that’s all you can get. Fine. You just need one.

Sometimes going for a walk or taking a shower or bath is a good place to get ideas.  Let your subconscious work. It works for me anyway. Baths especially, for some reason. I don’t advise idea hunting while you’re driving or operating other large machinery.

How do you know if an idea has novel potential? For me, it’s when it starts growing on its own. I’ll jot down something simple. A sixty-year-old man finds out he was adopted. If your mind keeps returning to an idea, expanding it, explaining it, and certain plot points come to you, then you know you’re on to something. A sixty-year-old man finds out he was adopted when his parents both die. A sixty-year-old man finds out he was adopted when his parents both die while he is going through his second divorce. I start to see a plot. He keeps failing in relationships. He links this to his being adopted. Yes, he’s a bit old for a midlife crisis, but everyone keeps telling him sixty is the new forty. Did he miss his midlife crisis? Would it be all right for him to have it now? Etc., etc., I just keep playing with the idea.

Don’t overthink this stage. Collecting ideas should be playful, not analytical. The critical brain is useful later, but right now, it’s the creative brain you want to use.

Here are some ways I gather materials without suffocating them with structure:

Snapshots: Quick descriptions of scenes I can vividly imagine, even if I don’t know where they fit in a larger story.

Character sketches: Not detailed biographies, just impressions. “A man who can’t remember people’s names suddenly remembers everyone’s name.” “A librarian who works in a haunted library.”

Setting fragments: Places that feel charged with story potential. An abandoned amusement park where the rides still move at night and seems populated by people even though the town has only a few hundred residents. Where did these people come from? What is going on in the park?

Tensions: Basic conflicts that intrigue me. Two brothers who haven’t spoken in twenty years are forced to run their father’s business together.

Notice, none of these are plots. They’re seeds, not blueprints. Seeds are fine. You’re going to learn how to grow these plots as you discover each new aspect of your story. What matters is capturing ideas in their raw state, before your inner critic can tear them apart.

When an idea really grabs you—when it won’t let you go—that’s when you know you’ve found something worth exploring. It doesn’t need to be original. It needs to be yours. It needs to be something you care enough about to spend months wrestling with.

I’ve started novels with nothing more than a character’s voice in my head. One book began because I couldn’t stop thinking about a particular beach town in winter. Another grew from a single line of dialogue I overheard at a coffee shop.

If you’re struggling to find that spark, here’s another exercise to try: Write down ten things that make you angry. Ten things that break your heart. Ten things you don’t understand but wish you did. Maybe you’ll find seeds for a novel in this way.

Remember: at this stage, quantity beats quality. Collect widely, indiscriminately. The sorting happens later.

And here’s a truth that might free you: you don’t need to have THE idea before you start. Many discovery writers begin with a vague notion and discover their real story through the act of writing. The first idea is just a way into the journey of writing a novel.

Keep your idea collection somewhere you can access easily. Review it regularly. Let ideas cross-pollinate. Sometimes the magic happens when two unrelated concepts collide. This often happens to me. I have an idea and a second idea that doesn’t seem to go with the first works into the story. I work on figuring out ways they might work together in the same story. It’s fun. It’s challenging. Sometimes the friction of the ideas can create sparks. Sparks are usually good.

The materials you gather now don’t need to make a coherent whole. They’re just possibilities. Potential. They’re the pile of lumber, bricks, and tools in the yard before construction begins.

Your job isn’t to see the finished house yet. You can’t. Your job is to collect interesting building materials and trust that, when the time comes, you’ll figure out how they fit together.

Next time doubt creeps in, remember that every great novel started as a fragile idea in someone’s mind. Every masterpiece began as a messy collection of possibilities.

Gather your materials. Be generous with yourself. Get ready to build.

My amazon page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Brian-Yansky/author/B001H6UHHW?ref

Discover how to write a novel without an outline using this 12-step guide for discovery writers. Gain courage, beat fear, and write that novel you've been wanting to write for years.

I'm going to expand on the two posts on building a novel I recently wrote by going deeper into the various points of those posts. There will be twelve new posts, one every week, for the next twelve weeks showing you how to build a novel from beginning to end. Hope it helps. Brian

12 Steps to Write a Novel Without an Outline: A Guide for Discovery Writers

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 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.

Building a Novel:

Step 1: Breaking Ground - The Leap of Faith

So you can’t outline. Welcome to the club. I’ve been writing novels for years, and I’ve never been able to outline worth a damn. Every time I try, my creativity shrivels up like a raisin in the sun. That’s okay. There are plenty of successful novelists who don’t outline. Steven King, Toni Morrison, Ray Bradbury, Neil Gaiman, Elizabeth Strout, Donna Tartt, George Saunders, Terry Pratchett, Douglas Adams—to name just a few.

WHY FEAR IS NORMAL FOR WRITERS

Starting a novel without an outline is terrifying. It’s like jumping off a cliff and trying to build wings on the way down. I get it. The blank page stares at you accusingly. Your mind rebels at the idea, and fear sets in. How can I possibly do this? Where do I even start? If I do get started, where do I go after the start? I’ve written a few pages, but I need hundreds. How can I know what comes next and next and next? It’s impossible. Hundreds of pages? It’s impossible.

Breathe. This fear is normal. Every novelist—even the famous ones—feels this fear. The difference between writers and wannabe writers isn’t talent or outlines. It’s that writers write despite the fear. They put one word after another and another and they keep going.

If you’re waiting for certainty before you begin, you’ll never write a word. Novel writing is an act of faith. You have to trust that your subconscious mind knows things your conscious mind doesn’t. You have to believe that if you keep showing up to the page, the story will reveal itself to you.

“But what if I waste months writing and it turns out terrible?” you ask.

Here’s a secret: your first draft WILL suck. Mine always do. Almost everyone’s do. First drafts aren’t about perfection—they’re about discovery. They’re about finding out what your story is. The “discovery” in discovery writing is essential. So, cut yourself some slack on your first draft. Low expectations. Start there. Know that you can improve whatever you write with revision.

The perfectionist in you is your biggest enemy. That voice that says, “This isn’t good enough” You’ve got to try to silence it. That aspect of you doesn’t get a vote right now. Its turn comes in revision.

HOW TO START YOUR NOVEL

Start with anything. A character who fascinates you. A situation that raises questions. A setting that gives you chills. A scene that you see in your mind. That’s enough. That’s your foundation.

I’ve started all my novels with only vague notions. Sometimes I began with an image, like a man out in the woods who sees something he shouldn’t or a sheriff who wakes up in his bed but can’t remember getting there. Sometimes it was an idea. I wanted to write about a boy who had never had a home or family and who found both by leaving his town and going on a voyage of self-discovery. Or an alien invasion that takes only thirty seconds because we are so primitive compared to our invaders. Sometimes it’s a theme. Like the struggle to have relationships in our complicated world.

Start with a scene that thrills you. Do your best to express what thrills you, and you’re on your way.

Don’t worry about writing in order. If you know a scene that happens somewhere in the middle, write it. If you have a flash of dialogue but don’t know where it fits, write it down anyway. These are the bricks you’ll use to build your novel.

The goal isn’t to write a perfect novel in one go. The goal is to get words on the page that you can shape later. Remember this: you can’t revise a blank page. You can revise the crap out of ones with words on them.

 Another consideration is always time. You don’t have to force yourself to write for hours in the beginning.

 Fifteen minutes of focused writing is better than an hour of start and stop and check my email and watch cat videos writing. Write one paragraph and then another. Do your best to see what you’re trying to show the reader.  The simple act of putting words on the page will generate more words.

Discovery writing feels chaotic. Embrace the chaos. Let your characters surprise you. Follow narrative threads that intrigue you. Take unexpected turns. The joy of discovery writing is finding out what happens next along with your reader. At the same time, be mindful that you are writing to a reader. Think of yourself as a reader or a watcher of shows or movies. What do you love? What do you hate?

Keep a notebook for ideas that pop up as you write. Maybe you realize your main character needs a childhood trauma that shapes her decisions. Maybe you see a potential plot twist. Jot these down, but don’t stop your forward momentum to incorporate them yet. That’s what revision is for.

Trust yourself. Your brain knows more about storytelling than you think it does. You’ve been absorbing story structure since you were a child. Those patterns are in you, even if you can’t articulate them.

Some days, the words will flow like a mountain stream. On other days, each sentence will feel like you’re walking through knee-deep snow. Both days count. Both move you forward. Also, here’s a weird thing: sometimes the knee-deep snow days are a lot better than you think they are. Sometimes, reading them over later, they look pretty much like the flow-like-a-mountain-stream days.

Remember, even with an outline, novelists still face uncertainty. Characters rebel. Plot holes emerge. The perfect structure in your mind falls apart in execution on the paper. You have to struggle through them. Again, it’s better than real life. You get a chance to rewrite, revise. You get do-overs.

So take that leap of faith. Write the first sentence. Then the next. And the next. Keep going until you reach the end. It won’t be pretty, but it will be something. Something real. Something you created from nothing.

And that, my fellow writers, is magic.

Next time you feel that fear, remember that every novel begins with uncertainty. Every novelist faces doubt. The only way through is forward. One word at a time.

Now go break some ground.

My amazon page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Brian-Yansky/author/B001H6UHHW?ref

I'm going to expand on the two posts on building a novel I recently wrote by going deeper into the various points of those posts. There will be twelve new posts, one every week, for the next twelve weeks showing you how to build a novel from beginning to end. Hope it helps. Brian

HOW TO BUILD A NOVEL: A METHOD FOR DISCOVERY WRITERS IN 12 STEPS

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 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.

12 Steps To Writing A Novel: one each week for the next 12 weeks.

Step 1: Breaking Ground - The Leap of Faith

So you can’t outline. Welcome to the club. I’ve been writing novels for years, and I’ve never been able to outline worth a damn. Every time I try, my creativity shrivels up like a raisin in the sun. That’s okay. There are plenty of successful novelists who don’t outline. Steven King, Toni Morrison, Ray Bradbury, Neil Gaiman, Elizabeth Strout, Donna Tartt, George Saunders, Terry Pratchett, Douglas Adams—to name just a few.

Starting a novel without an outline is terrifying. It’s like jumping off a cliff and trying to build wings on the way down. I get it. The blank page stares at you accusingly. Your mind rebels at the idea, and fear sets in. How can I possibly do this? Where do I even start? If I do get started, where do I go after the start? I’ve written a few pages, but I need hundreds. How can I know what comes next and next and next? It’s impossible. Hundreds of pages? It’s impossible.

Breathe. This fear is normal. Every novelist—even the famous ones—feels this fear. The difference between writers and wannabe writers isn’t talent or outlines. It’s that writers write despite the fear. They put one word after another and another and they keep going.

If you’re waiting for certainty before you begin, you’ll never write a word. Novel writing is an act of faith. You have to trust that your subconscious mind knows things your conscious mind doesn’t. You have to believe that if you keep showing up to the page, the story will reveal itself to you.

“But what if I waste months writing and it turns out terrible?” you ask.

Here’s a secret: your first draft WILL be terrible. Mine always are. Almost everyone’s are. First drafts aren’t about perfection—they’re about discovery. They’re about finding out what your story is. The “discovery” in discovery writing is essential. So, cut yourself some slack on your first draft. Low expectations. Start there. Know that you can improve whatever you write with revision.

The perfectionist in you is your biggest enemy. That voice that says, “This isn’t good enough” You’ve got to try to silence it. That aspect of you doesn’t get a vote right now. Its turn comes in revision.

Start with anything. A character who fascinates you. A situation that raises questions. A setting that gives you chills. A scene that you see in your mind. That’s enough. That’s your foundation.

I’ve started all my novels with only vague notions. Sometimes I began with an image, like a man out in the woods who sees something he shouldn’t or a sheriff who wakes up in his bed but can’t remember getting there. Sometimes it was an idea. I wanted to write about a boy who had never had a home or family and who found both by leaving his town and going on a voyage of self-discovery. Or an alien invasion that takes only thirty seconds because we are so primitive compared to our invaders. Sometimes it’s a theme. Like the struggle to have relationships in our complicated world.

Start with a scene that thrills you. Do your best to express what thrills you, and you’re on your way.

Don’t worry about writing in order. If you know a scene that happens somewhere in the middle, write it. If you have a flash of dialogue but don’t know where it fits, write it down anyway. These are the bricks you’ll use to build your novel.

The goal isn’t to write a perfect novel in one go. The goal is to get words on the page that you can shape later. Remember this: you can’t revise a blank page. You can revise the crap out of ones with words on them.

 Another consideration is always time. You don’t have to force yourself to write for hours in the beginning.

 Fifteen minutes of focused writing is better than an hour of start and stop and check my email and watch cat videos writing. Write one paragraph and then another. Do your best to see what you’re trying to show the reader.  The simple act of putting words on the page will generate more words.

Discovery writing feels chaotic. Embrace the chaos. Let your characters surprise you. Follow narrative threads that intrigue you. Take unexpected turns. The joy of discovery writing is finding out what happens next along with your reader. At the same time, be mindful that you are writing to a reader. Think of yourself as a reader or a watcher of shows or movies. What do you love? What do you hate?

Keep a notebook for ideas that pop up as you write. Maybe you realize your main character needs a childhood trauma that shapes her decisions. Maybe you see a potential plot twist. Jot these down, but don’t stop your forward momentum to incorporate them yet. That’s what revision is for.

Trust yourself. Your brain knows more about storytelling than you think it does. You’ve been absorbing story structure since you were a child. Those patterns are in you, even if you can’t articulate them.

Some days, the words will flow like a mountain stream. On other days, each sentence will feel like you’re walking through knee-deep snow. Both days count. Both move you forward. Also, here’s a weird thing: sometimes the knee-deep snow days are a lot better than you think they are. Sometimes, reading them over later, they look pretty much like the flow-like-a-mountain-stream days.

Remember, even with an outline, novelists still face uncertainty. Characters rebel. Plot holes emerge. The perfect structure in your mind falls apart in execution on the paper. You have to struggle through them. Again, it’s better than real life. You get a chance to rewrite, revise. You get do-overs.

So take that leap of faith. Write the first sentence. Then the next. And the next. Keep going until you reach the end. It won’t be pretty, but it will be something. Something real. Something you created from nothing.

And that, my fellow writers, is magic.

Next time you feel that fear, remember that every novel begins with uncertainty. Every novelist faces doubt. The only way through is forward. One word at a time.

Now go break some ground.

My amazon page: https://www.amazon.com/stores/Brian-Yansky/author/B001H6UHHW?ref

 DISCOVERY WRITERS NEED TO USE THE SKILL AND ART OF DISCOVERY

Writing a novel is like a journey. When you get to the end of it, the actual final-draft, last-word end, you’ll think back on how you got to that point and it will all be a little sketchy. You have gone through a lot and you’re a little surprised you made it and happy too and a little sad. It’s the process of finding your way that is most exciting and engaging. Creating something from nothing. Well, that’s magic. We writers do that. We create magic. 

My last two posts have been on how to build a novel—generally. Read those before reading this one.

Here are a couple of ideas to help you work on building a novel.

Discovery. It’s what you’re doing when you start writing if you’re someone who writes without an outline. You are discovering your plot, characters, setting, voice and so on. You’re discovering something new every day. You’re a discovery writer. I don’t like the sound of pantsing. It implies you are flying by the seat of your pants. It makes the process seem random and without a clear plan. OK—it’s a little random and the actual plot is not planned BUT the process to writing a book is. You are discovering your story as you go along in your first draft. Own that. Know you will revise your way to a better novel.

Anyway, you find your way as you find your way 

Approach this “finding your way” as fearlessly as possible. You’ll get there, wherever there is, if you just keep writing. The most important thing is that you finish the draft. You need to write THE END at the end. 

A few points about getting started when writing a discovery draft:

I said low expectations are very helpful to the discovery writer’s first draft. Here’s what I mean. You have to make your discovery draft full of true discovery. Take chances. Be bold. You won’t be sure in certain places what you want to do with a scene or chapter so you just write a few sentences about what you think you want the scene to do and then whatever bits that come to you. Maybe a little dialogue or a description of a character. NEXT draft you’re going to fill it in. Next draft you will have the benefit of a story that has a beginning and an end. 

You need to let things go in that first draft. Be thinking big picture. Make little notes to yourself but don’t worry about details. Get on with the main story or stories ( I always have a main story and a couple of sub-plots but you do you). Get it down in some form you can work with—that’s the goal of draft 1 for a discovery writer.

An important part of my becoming a good discovery writer is learning to recognize when I’ve discovered something that I can develop that will enhance the story and not discovered something that is kind of cool, but will take my story in the wrong direction. Learning this is key to success. It takes a bit of practice to recognize good discoveries sometimes. Keep writing and use your intuition and you’ll be fine.

Use the tool of reverse engineering. So let’s say you discover an important something late in the novel. You’ll need to use an essential tool to any writer who writes fiction: REVERSE ENGINEERING. Reverse engineer  your story from the end back to the beginning. Like you figure out you want your characters to be able to do something together at the end that saves the day. That can’t just happen out of nowhere. You have to build it, showing a progression from the beginning to the end of the manuscript. Work your way back to the beginning. You’ll likely find three or four points to reverse engineer as you work through your drafts.

Hope this give you some specific ideas of how to build your novel’s first draft.

Brian

 So you’ve written draft one. Congrats. Next stop, draft two. But draft two will depend on how draft one turned out. Maybe you feel like your draft one has most of the basics of plot, character, and setting. You just need to go into more detail or maybe add some scenes or take some scenes out.  

If this is the case, then in draft two, you’ll still be discovering things. But, big difference — you’ve written draft one from beginning to end. You can see the whole story. You have a better understanding of the balance between show and tell and what you want to focus on and what you need and what you don’t need to show in a scene.

Because you have written draft one from beginning to end, with some middle parts in between, you’ll know things you didn’t know before, and it will change the manuscript. You’ll have figured out plot points that you didn’t understand before. Maybe you’ll realize aspects of your character you didn’t. The first draft, you can now see, is like an out-of-focus photo. The second draft it your chance to bring it into focus. Trust your instincts. Rewrite where needed. If you have readers you trust, after you rewrite the second draft is a good time to get opinions that can help you identify weaknesses.

However, let’s say you’re a new writer or you’re an experienced writer, but this novel has been tough for you for one reason or another. There’s a lot you need to figure out and work on in this novel. In that case, when you’re writing your second draft, do not go back to the beginning and rewrite from page 1 to the end. Identify the problems and go and work on those sections right away. You’re not quite ready to do the second draft from beginning to end. After you feel like you’ve got the big problems, or most of them, solved, then go to page 1 and move through the manuscript again.

Usually the second draft takes about as long as the first draft for me unless there are major problems. In that case, it will take longer.

The third draft is refining what you’ve written more. You’ll do a lot in this draft, but it will mostly be making dialogue pop, working on consistency of character, clarifying plot points. It will be improving language at the sentence level and looking for ways to add emotion or humor or whatever it is your fiction will require. Usually, this is completed faster than my first or second drafts.

 Fourth draft, for me, is grammar and listening to the manuscript read to me by an app on my computer. Sometimes a sentence will sound wrong to me and I’ll revise it. This last draft takes less than a week.

 This is how I build a novel.