You have to check the status of your novel now and again during the writing process—things do go wrong, after all. Consider the halfway mark a ****?d point to take a breather, get out a notebook, and do a quick ***.ssment of what you’ve done so ***?r.

Mid-point ***.ssment is NOT the ***?me to start rewriting, though. Not even if you’ve gone tearing off in the wrong direction somewhere down the line. ***.ssment is a thinking step (and a taking-notes step), not revision. Four questions will help you determine the course of your story, and whether you’re getting what you ****?t from it so ***?r or not. So, notebook in hand, ***?k yourself these questions:

First…are you having any ***?n?

I’m absolutely ***?rious about this question. Writers in the middle of their novels frequently slide into this ‘grit-teeth-and-grind-forward’ mode that kills their spontaneity, makes writing miserable, and allows them to do huge amounts of really bad work before stopping to realize they’ve gone off in the wrong direction. Writing is NOT the job that’s supposed to ****. Jamming ahead while ****?ing life is ***? sign that your ****?k went over a ****?ff somewhere and you missed the crash.

If your story is heading where it ought to be, you’ll be having ***?n—even if the writing is a lot of work. You’ll be excited about the twists and turns you’re coming up with, you’ll love your characters and what they’re doing, you’ll have to quell the urge to show off or read important passages to unsuspecting ***?mily members. This is the way you ****?t the writing to feel. If you’ve taken a wrong turn, on the other hand, the writing is going to feel like drudgery—like punishment. If it ever feels like punishment, stop right away. Something has gone wrong with the story.

Second, does your ***?ntence still work?

(I talked about The ***?ntence, which is a tool you use to define your story, in a previous article.) If the ****?k you’re writing still fits the concepts, characters, and twist in your ***?ntence, go on to the next question.

If it doesn’t, you’re either going to have to figure out how to make the ****?k fit The ***?ntence, or how to rewrite The ***?ntence to fit the ****?k. If you’re still passionate about your original concepts and characters, figure out where you’ve gone wrong in the story. If you love your new direction, figure out via The ***?ntence what these changes you’ve made will mean to your bigger picture.

Third, are your characters the ***?ople you ****?t them to be?

They don’t have to be carrying out your orders like little clockwork automatons, ****? they do need to be working, not sitting around the ****?l drinking tea and sneering at you whenever you try to put them into a scene. There are ways of dealing with problem characters—but first, you have to recognize that you have a problem, and that they’re it.

Finally, how’s your plot holding up?

My students generally use my plot card technique—plot cards allow you to be flexible, to move things around, to toss cards that no longer lie along the path your story is taking. ****? you shouldn’t have to toss them all. And every plot card should make ***?nse in relation to every other plot card, and the whole should add up to a complete story. If they don’t—if your ****?k has somehow become a ***?ries of unrelated incidents, it’s ***?me to go back to plot cards and figure out what you’ve missed, and how to fit it in.

At this point, you’re probably wondering why you don’t just go ahead and make the changes you ***?e you’re going to have to make. The answer is simple, though a bit strange.

You’re not finished yet, and any revisions you do halfway through may have to be tossed when the ***?cond half of the story takes an unexpected turn.

For now, mark out problem areas, figure out workable fixes you can make when you’re done, and then get back to writing, knowing that everything is fixable. Just not yet fixed.

You can do this.


- Holly Lisle