First drafts are supposed to suck.
Most writers abandon their manuscripts because they get perfection paralysis. They have this weird idea that first drafts are meant to be impeccably-composed, well-told, riveting narratives.
When, in fact, first drafts are like the drunk uncle with weird teeth and bad breath at your family reunion. You know you’re somehow related to him, but you’d rather not think too hard about it.
When it comes to first drafts, finished is better than well-written.
A finished first draft is a starting point. It’s the springboard for sharpening your ideas, refining your characters, and knowing how to shape your story into the family reunion relative you’d actually want to be seen with. And in order to finish, you need to get writing.
When I meet with clients who are stuck in their drafts, I usually advise one of two strategies:
Zoom out to 30,000 feet to get above the story, or
Zoom in to a single moment, feeling, or experience.
Most people intuitively know which one suits them best.
Zoom Out: Get Above the Story
As a developmental editor, I love to help authors get above their story and see the shape from above. When you can divide your narrative into acts (or three big chunks), you can better see the beats you need to hit in each one.
Act One introduces the world where our hero is struggling and The Big Thing that happens to them. If you’re writing memoir, this is where you introduce your life before The Big Thing happened and show your initial response to it. The reader should get a clear picture in Act One of who you were before you were forced into the new reality The Big Thing brings.
Questions to answer with your writing include:
What was my life like before The Big Thing happened?
Who was I? What did I believe then that I don’t believe now?
What did I not know then that I will know by the end of the book/story?
What was holding me back, tripping me up, keeping me stuck? What needed to change in my world?
Act Two is where the main character steps forward into the upside down world to deal with The Big Thing. They walk through a one-way door and begin trying to solve the problem the wrong way.
If you’re writing a story about recovering from alcoholism, for example, you would tell about all your ups and downs with alcohol in Act Two. If you’re writing about how you dealt with the grief of losing your mother, you would write about all the ways you coped that weren’t supportive or helpful.
Questions to answer with your writing include:
How did I try to solve The Big Thing and fail?
What struggles did I face and how did I stumble?
Was there a point when I thought I had it all figured out, only to fail again?
Act Three is where the hero finally grows and conquers The Big Thing once and for all. There is usually both an internal and an external shift. In our earlier examples, this would be when the alcoholic finally releases alcohol for good and is able to sit with their inner demons, or when the grief-laden hero makes peace with their mother’s death and finds new perspective in life.
Questions to answer with your writing include:
Who did I ultimately become after all the struggles in Act Two?
What Big Moment helped it all click into place?
Who am I now compared to who I was in Act One? What did it take to get me there?
Pondering these big picture questions can help you get unstuck and see where the holes are in your story. I am a huge fan of the Save the Cat plotting method and usually advise my clients to make a punchlist of story beats and then write each one as its own standalone essay. This helps trick the mind out of overwhelming project mode and into bite-sized checklist mode.
Zoom In: Get into the Details
If looking at the story’s arc feels like too much, you can take the opposite approach and zoom way in.
When I walk clients through my drafting method (The Memoir Map), we usually save sensory details until the end when we “Enliven” our draft. But this step can be incredibly helpful for a stuck writer.
At their core all stories are about transformation. And transformation is incited by deep feelings. What feelings bubble up when you think about your story? Is there a single feeling that you’d like to write into?
Let’s say “grief,” is the feeling that comes up for you. You’d write into these questions:
What does grief look like, taste like, smell like?
What clothes does grief wear? What structures does it hide in?
What color is grief? What texture is it?
Is there a single moment that personifies grief for you?
As you allow yourself to free write into the details of grief, you might be surprised to find yourself writing about the silky feel of the purple polyester dress your mother always wore on Sundays or the cool draft of the cellar where she stored the potatoes and hid the good wine. Small details can invite us into scenes that want to be written.
When you zoom into the details, it’s important to allow the process and write whatever your hearts wants to write. Don’t stress about how it fits into the narrative or where it goes in the sequence of your story. Allow yourself to play in the details and write your way into your manuscript.
Bonus Tip: Talking aloud often gets us unstuck.
One of the reasons I provide developmental editing via 1:1 sessions is because I believe deeply in the power of conversation to get us unstuck. Verbal processing is an important part of the storytelling process and the original way our ancestors conveyed memoir.
Oftentimes we overcomplicate things in our minds, and our writing voice can get muddled from our actual voice.
Try speaking through your story aloud with someone you trust, or simply talk about it out loud with yourself. Are you able to clearly articulate what you’re writing about? Can you describe the beginning, middle, and end? Try filling in these sentences :
I’m writing a story about ____________. (Ex. Getting through grief, Overcoming alcoholism.)
Specifically I’m writing about how ____(The Big Thing, aka catalyst)____ changed my life and what I learned.
At first I thought who I was (explain who you were) was working, but then The Big Thing happened. I had to endure ___________ (insert highs and lows), and then I hit rock bottom when ____________. But because of ______________, I learned I could live life differently (explain who you are now).
Ex. I’m writing a story about getting through grief. Specifically, I’m writing about how my mother’s death changed my life and what I learned. At first I thought my overachieving, high-output life was working, but then my mom died. I had to endure relationship struggles, a near-mental breakdown, and old childhood traumas coming back to haunt me. I hit rock bottom when I ended up in the hospital for exhaustion. But because of therapy and a soul-healing trip to Bali, I learned I could live life differently. I could find balance in work and life. I could miss my mom and also move forward with peace.
See if you can talk through your own story. Which blanks are harder to fill? Which ones are easy-peasy? Does this coincide with where you’re stuck in your draft?
Remember that writing is not always a linear process.
Just like life, we have to circle the same lessons a few times before we move forward. It’s okay to revisit chapters, jump ahead in your timeline, or take a pause for some list making or exploratory writing. The idea is to keep moving and keep writing.
If you’d like someone to talk through your draft with, I’d love to help you get unstuck. Reach out here, and let’s talk about your story.