Let’s Write a Book! | Part V: Middles
Middles are hard – Brandon Sanderson
Writing this book continues to be a labour of love. My friend Ryan likens it to chopping down a tree one stroke of the axe at a time. A metaphor he borrowed from ill-fated New York Knicks head coach David Fizdale:
“If you keep paying attention to if the tree is falling, you’re never going to get that tree down.” – David Fizdale to Frank Ntilikina [citation needed]
Sadly it didn’t quite work out for Frankie Smokes
The gist being that the joy is in the small details that suddenly add up to a greater whole. Despite his 21-77 record as coach of the Knicks, the metaphor feels solid for the grind required. Fixing a sentence endlessly until it somehow feels less terrible than what you started with. Or being at peace with the endless revisions needed to create something that feels workable.
I draw the line at carrying a literal axe around with me.
I still don’t know if what I’ve done is actually good, but I am enjoying the process. I have these people in my head and control every facet of their imaginary lives and am trying to inject as much drama as I can in a believable manner.
So far, I have 7 completed chapters, 11,000 words, which is impressive. I’ve introduced the main couple and some of the peripheral people in their orbits. They have motivations and opinions about stuff. I have an ending in mind that I am working towards.
By all measures, it’s a good start, but I’ve run into a new issue.
What do they do in the middle?
Middles are quite important. Remember that bit in Spider-Man 2 when Spider-Man saved all those people on the train? That was a middle that helped escalate the stakes and kept the pace alive.
The only thing I have decided about the middle of the book is that the female protagonist will have yellow hair.
Good middles help flesh out your characters, and ideally add a relevant subplot that dovetails nicely into a satisfying ending. These are the works I need to study and take inspiration from.
This weekend, I have no reason to leave the confines of my flat.
The plan: pour a large glass of whisky, stick on the second round of the NBA Playoffs and figure it out.
One swing of the axe at a time.
