As I sat down to write this blog today, I found myself a little surprised at how far we have come story wise when it comes to the process of writing a novel. We've gone through the conception phase, the outlines, the character and world building. We've traveled through the early stages of putting it all together and the difficulty that can sometimes come with that. Plus, we've discussed those darkest hours, when the storm clouds of fear and doubt gather and threaten everything. It's been quite the journey when I think about it and it's been an absolute blast to discuss.

But as I went through them, I realized that outside of talking about The Stride in my last entry, I feel as though I've presented a thorough but not exactly "holy cow, this seems like so much fun" representation of what novel writing is really like. Don't get me wrong, I'm okay with that, I wanted this to be a raw and unfettered look at the long nights where you run your fingers through your hair in frustration wondering what the hell inspired the crap you just put on the page. But let's be honest, this is a blog that is telling a story, and everyone loves a happy ending, don't they?

Well believe it or not, all those long hours of pre work, endless nights of writing and moments of fear and self loathing all have their reward and much like the realization today I had about how far we have traveled in this blog, there is a similar moment in novel writing, where you realize you have reached the home stretch of the story and the ending is finally in sight and I'll be damned if it isn't a thrilling feeling, especially when it sneaks up on you like it did for me. After all, at this point I was truly plugging away at the story now that I had found my stride. My life at this time consisted of working the day job, doing whatever needed to be done for the day at home and write and well...it was glorious to say the least and it was a wonderful routine that I looked forward to. 

But sometimes you get buried in a routine and your mind gets comfortable and one morning on a day off, as I settled in and glanced over my outline to make sure I was sticking to a particular plot point...I snapped out of my mental routine as it hit me. The end was drawing near. After all this time, damn near a year at this point, I had breached the third act and was flying toward the final pages of this story. I was almost there and it gave me pause. Not the kind of pause where you let a sense of sadness settle in because the end is near, it was the kind of pause where the reality of the situation settles in...and it only galvanizes you further. 

That realization, unleashed a determination within me that I never knew existed until that day. I saw an opportunity to finish this as soon as humanly possible, if I dedicated just a little more time from my day to it. I was making sure to take breaks, go to bed early, be that perfectly balanced person and handle this story like a marathon, not a race. But with the finish line in sight, all that changed and well...the time had come to throw caution to the wind and just bang this sucker out. Suddenly early bedtimes turned into late nights, days off became dedicated to the story and nothing more...I was a man possessed and I loved every single second of it.

Because that extra work was quickly paying off, and while one might think I was exhausted, I wasn't. The story was fueling me in many ways, I may have slept less at night, but I slept well and the thought of getting back to the story because of how excited I was to get to write the next line or next chapter kept me alert and ready during the day and lo and behold, after a couple of weeks of pushing myself to the limit, the end was closer than it had ever been before. The finale of the story was all that was left and now seemed like a good time to take a break for a day or two, and let my batteries recharge just a little bit before diving in to cross the finish line, and that's exactly where we will pick up, next time. Until then.

Going through a gauntlet of doubt and fear had been quite the interesting experience to say the least. By facing it, and overcoming it for the most part, and I say that because doubt and fear are always with you...it's just a matter of how much you listen to their bullshit, I found myself in a far better place than I had been in years from a creative standpoint and that internal struggle in my mind had given me a newfound confidence and a resolve that I had never known to finally finish what I had started so long ago. 

Because of that, the story was now coming together nicely. I was getting home excited to write once again and since the last blog about this process turned out to be a lot darker than I originally intended for it to be, I think it is finally time we talk about the best part of writing...anything really. It's that moment when you feel everything coming together at last. It's that moment where you know you're finally on the right track and climbing the proverbial mountain doesn't seem so bad. It's a moment that I've simply come to nickname, "The Stride". 

Now in my blog about this novel and about screenwriting, I've pointed out that this is a difficult process and business altogether and I still stand by this. It takes an incredible amount of dedication and resolve and despite the fact that I've sometimes painted this in a slightly negative light...for which I apologize, it's also a crazy amount of fun. There is something incredibly special about seeing a story that has been rattling around in your head for ages come to life on the page as the words fall into place and for me...the moment I enjoy over all others when it comes to this process is when everything is flowing and The Stride finally arrives. 

Now I call it that simply because that's exactly what it is. The Stride is finding that steady pace in writing and you know exactly where you're going every single time you sit down to write. You no longer struggle with where to begin and where to end any part of your story, you just feel it in your bones and your fingers start to fly and the words pour out of you with absolute ease. It's a wonderful experience to say the least, and for me...there's an added bonus when I find this magical place, the fact that I completely lose myself in the story.

You see, when I sat down to write, and I mean really write, hours and even days melted away. I would simply sit down, start typing and the next thing I knew it was lunchtime, or dinnertime, or bedtime...and in the case of the third act...it was dawn. While that may sound dangerous in the respect of losing track of family or friends or handling one's daily duties in life, it's not. I ate when I needed to, laundry was done, the dog was walked and fed and loved and dinner was had with my friends. It was just the magic of those moments when I sat down to write, of slipping into Brigman's world that made those blocks of writing special and it's really my favorite moment when it comes to writing...and the rewards were incredible.

You see those blocks of writing, of losing myself in the story had completely and utterly paid off. I was two thirds of the way into the book, the grand finale was being setup and I was in shock...in the good kind of way of course. This truly seemed like an insurmountable task when I was at my lowest, and here I was...with the end in sight. There's a certain bit of sadness that comes with that since the journey to get there was so incredible, but there was a time and a place for being wistful, and it was certainly not now. After all, I had come this far, to a place that for a long time never seemed quite possible and that meant it was high time to buckle down and make an incredible push to finish this novel, and that's where we will pick up next time. Until then.

In every career field that we choose, or that happens to find us...there is some kind of obstacle or nemesis waiting for us. For athletes it is rival players or rival teams. In literature and film it's an objective or a villain, and for some folks it's simply Doug from Accounting and his constant need to eat your food in the fridge. One way or another, each of us have our nemesis and writers are no different. For me, my nemesis is an internal one, because the hardest challenge I've ever had to face when it comes to writing is the power of fear and doubt. 

They are powerful agents of chaos in our minds to say the least and before we go any further, just be ready, this is going to be a big blog for a change, one that outlines quite a bit about this process because...I know I'm not alone in this and I promised you guys an in depth look at this whole process. So, with all that in mind, the last time we talked about the book, all was going well. I was disciplined, I was kicking ass and taking names with this book and it was chugging along and it seemed like nothing could stop me. So naturally, I was gaining in confidence, and I thought why not take a slight break and look over my work and see how it was coming along.

What a mistake that turned out to be. You see, a novel is a strange little creation early on. It truly is a jumble of thoughts as you assemble your plot points and act structure to the point where really...nothing makes any sense in the early stages of creation. A novel should feel complete, it should ebb and flow and draw you in...and it can only accomplish this when the story has come to its logical end. Because of that, going back to the start and looking at the book from an editing standpoint was a horrible idea. All the issues that I just described immediately came to the forefront of my mind and because of that...doubt was the first element to creep in. 

Suddenly I was questioning the strength of my plot. Of my characters and their upcoming journey. I had begun to wonder if I needed to scrap the hundred and some change in pages that I had already written and it took little to no time at all to discover that fear had found me. Suddenly I wasn't sure I was embarking on the right journey here. That I was wasting my time doing this and well, that I was failing. All the pages I had written were covered in a sea of red ink and the fear was beginning to take hold. If it seems in a way I'm rambling, well I could be, so perhaps the best way to describe this spiral of panic is to use a sports analogy. Now more than likely, you've all watched a football game at some point or another, and seen the quarterback pull off a horrible play. 

Maybe they fumbled the ball, maybe it was a rough interception, but one way or another, you could see something change in his eyes as they filled up with fear, confusion and doubt. Suddenly he was no longer confident in his skills, and the mistakes began to flow as he unraveled before your eyes. That's where I was, unraveling and well, if it seems like I was being pretty hard on myself, I was. This whole process was and remains a big deal to me. When I started this book, I was at a point in my life where I felt as though I had really hadn't accomplished something special for myself and that's when the scariest thought of all crept into my mind...maybe it was just time to quit this silly dream and just walk away from the whole damn thing. 

That was, perhaps the lowest moment for me in my writing career as a whole. I've had failures in screenwriting, and despite the fact that failure sucks I was able to recover from those no problem because you can move on to the next project and get that going. But a novel, well this is a personal journey (more on that in a second) and I'm glad that I let all of that mess creep into my mind because reaching that low point, thinking about walking away was actually just what I needed. Because despite what all the bullshit thoughts in my mind were telling me...I knew that if I walked away, in an instant I would regret it forever. But this line of thinking was all predicated on letting the fear win and I realized that was something I couldn't let happen. 

As I mentioned before, I needed to finish this, I needed to accomplish something. This was for me and really writing a novel is always for you. It's your journey, your experience, you simply share the end result with an audience and while I knew what I needed to do, getting there was easier said than done. The fear had settled in now and trying to work through that was a disaster at the time so I stepped away, and a few days away from the story slowly turned into a month. I merely buried myself in other hobbies at the time because I didn't know what to do to beat it. Unlike now, I didn't have any friends who were writers so there was no advice to be found, no circle of support outside of my friends and family telling me I would eventually figure it out and thankfully they were right.  

At the end of that month, it hit me. The only way out of this mess was to walk right through it. I took all my edited pages and threw them out, making the decision there would be no more fixing of the story until it was complete and that was the key, to finish this. It was a slow process to get back to regular writing at first, since good old fear and doubt were still there waiting for me...I simply chose not to listen to them. I just started putting words on the page, not concerned as to whether or not they were perfect and day by day, minute by minute, the fear subsided, the doubt went away and two more chapters were complete. I had found my groove again, albeit with a little caution but it could not have come at a better time, because the middle of the novel was looming before me and while that may sound ominous and like another ugly surprise was waiting, it was quite the opposite. It turned out the meat of the novel was an absolute blast to write...and that's where we will pick up next time. Until then.