The Forest and the Trees and Writing Affirmations

I am in the thick of writing my current work-in-progress, approaching the halfway mark. I am in the trees, and I cannot see the forest.

I write each scene and feel good about it, but I have no feel for the whole. Each conversation between my characters seems real, but what am I forgetting? What have I left in my head without getting it on the page? How can I deepen my characters’ motivations?

And, most importantly, where the hell is this book going?

I think I know the ending, but will it be satisfying when I get there? Not unless the characters become as real for readers as they are for me. And I’m not there yet.

My major protagonist was a strong character in the earlier novel I wrote in this series. In this book, he is proving to be a wimp. Yes, he is traversing an unknown environment now, but I’ll need to strengthen him when I edit, so he remains true to himself. Another character, whom I use as an observer and counselor, doesn’t have enough to do in this book, so I’ll have to build more scenes in which she can interact with others. Some of my subplots are getting lost and forgotten. My major plotline is uneven.

Lots of problems. I am in the middle of what writers call the “shitty first draft.” It’s not a fun place to be.

But I’ve been here before, and I know I will get through it.

Part of what keeps me going are the affirmations I developed for myself a couple of years ago after working (for about the fifth time) with The Artist’s Way, by Julia Cameron. My two primary affirmations were (and are)

1. God intends me to have a writing life, to be a writer, at least at this stage of my life.
2. My stories speak of human frailty and fallibility, of people trying to do their best, sometimes succeeding and sometimes failing—as such, they speak the truth.

Or, as I shortened them:

1. I am a writer.
2. My stories speak the truth.

I thought of these affirmations frequently as I wrote My Hope Secured in 2018-19. I tried to tell the truth, as I and my characters saw it.

Now, on the contemporary novel I am writing, the truth seems different—today’s world is not the same as the world of 1851-52.

And yet, as I write the dialogue between my contemporary characters, I see their human frailty and fallibility. I see them trying to do their best (or not), sometimes succeeding and sometimes failing. And so, my story speaks the truth.

That is the forest I must remember. With every scene, I must ask myself who is trying to do his or her best? Who is not? Do they succeed or do they fail? Why? Does all this appear on the page? If so, then my story will speak the truth.

When do you get lost in the trees? (This question isn’t just for writers.)