That’s all that stands between me and a completed first draft of the novel I’ve been writing for three years. Why does it feel so far way?

This is one of those things non-writers often don’t understand. I finished “writing” the first draft months ago. Since then I’ve been “revising,” which also encompasses a good bit of rewriting. As I’ve said before on this blog, I’m a fan of the clay sculpture mode of writing, wherein the first draft is (metaphorically) throwing a bunch of raw material onto an armature, and ending up with something that resembles a super-ugly, messy version of the finished product.

On review of that initial messy lump, shortly after congratulating myself on a finished first draft, I realized what I had was unreadable. Some chapters appeared twice, in two different forms. Vital plot details were revealed in three places, or sometimes not at all. Whole sections had been skipped, and I never returned to fill in the blanks. I realized pretty quickly that it wasn’t even worth passing this mess along to test readers – their only comments would be things I already knew myself. Things like, “This doesn’t make any sense.”

So it was back to rewriting, which I initially aimed to complete by December 31, 2011. Then January 31. Then April 30. Now, I really believe I can realistically finish by May 31. But first, there’s those two damn chapters.They’re the two that have given me the most trouble all along. Both are chapters where a considerable block of exposition must be balanced with character and action. Both are turning points in the story, where the reader’s understanding of the characters, the plot, and the world will be changed. And dammit, no matter how many ways I’ve tried to tackle them, they’ve defied me. Right now both consist of a rough first draft, and a series of margin notes that are at least as many words.

This is the trouble with my process. I saved the most difficult parts for last, and now the final barrier between me and a finished book (well, first draft) is the part I least want to deal with. It’s like finishing a marathon by going uphill for the last 2 miles.

Sometimes I hear people talk about novels, and how they’re so much harder than short stories, and I’m a little surprised. Then I actually try to finish a novel, and I realize they’re right.

I am writing, though. Painfully close to finishing the novel I’ve been working on for the past couple of years. I was originally hoping to finish it by December 31, 2011. Then it was January 31, then April 30. Now I’m aiming for May 31. May the gods of writing and Henrik Lundqvist will it so.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D9Ihs241zeg

“I recently spoke at a University where a student told me that it was such a shame that Nigerian men were physical abusers, like the father character in my novel. I told him that I had just read a novel called American Psycho, and that it was such a shame that young Americans were serial murderers.”

• Darth Vader attacks Princess Leia’s ship
• Jon Arryn is murdered
• A fly falls into a typewriter, turning the letter “T” into a “B.”

Like most concepts in art, the inciting incident is the subject of various debates. One is whether the inciting incident must itself be a scene in your story. I’m of the mind that it does not – in the examples above, for instance, #2 occurs before the story itself begins. The inciting incident will often be a scene, but not always. Some, particularly in screenwriting, believe the inciting incident should always come at the end of Act I, and lead into Act II. Once again, I strongly disagree – this “setting out” by the protagonist is a reaction to the inciting incident, not the incident itself.

The second point of frequent debate is on what, exactly, constitutes THE inciting incident. Some will argue it’s the moment at which the main character can no longer turn back, but I disagree. My opinion is it’s the event on which things begin to turn, the cause to which all reaction can be traced – the fulcrum of the story, if you will. I also disagree with those who say the inciting incident must be something that happens to the main character. It can be fun, at least for those of us who find pointless intellectual exercises “fun,” to argue over what exactly the inciting incident is.

Consider:

• Is it when Frodo gets the One Ring from Gandalf? Or is it when Bilbo finds the ring in Gollum’s cave? Or is it the Council of Elrond?
• Is it John Arryn’s murder? Or King Robert’s demanding that Ned Stark serve as Hand?
• Is it Vader attacking Leia’s ship? Or Luke finding the droids? Or maybe even the initial theft of the Death Star plans?

Key to identifying the inciting incident, I think, is figuring out exactly whose story you’re telling. For a writer struggling with a plot structure, this can also help to determine what your central conflict is, and where the climax will fit. Conversely, deciding on whose story you’re telling might change your inciting incident.