Writers can get those thorns in the side, or what I call incomplete works that have potential coupled with a big black lack.
The lack, or “lack” because it’s temporary, is like a flaw that through some thought can be worked out.
Maybe the lack is from a dip in motivation to return to the starter idea, because it’s moved from a small rip to a hole.
Maybe it’s from not knowing where to go next, or from stitching that’s uneven from not seeing the thread to move it along.
Or, maybe it’s from having too many ideas that cannot be sorted out in immediate thought but needs some subconscious work, achieved by getting in front of the story and doing some pantsing, freewriting and exploring. It’s from too much thread covering up the hole, so that the material becomes tough, needing some of the stitches let loose.
It also can be, instead of from a lack of direction, the result of trying to be too perfect, trying to come up with the whole product without seeing the small steps, or stitches, needed to get to the seam.
That’s because it’s hard to hold the whole story in the head.
What I’ve found is that it’s okay to not know where the story is headed.
Earlier this week, I returned to a short story hanging out with the gap of a middle and the lack of an ending. My story only had a beginning. It had a protagonist who made me uncomfortable—he was male, not my usual point-of-view, and he had a rough, sardonic voice.
I’d wanted to fix and find the rest of what I’d started. I decided, I’m just going to finish this thing.
To do so, I had to let go of my planning, controlling thoughts and go deeper into the mind where raw stories can emerge. I had to let the characters take over, setting aside plotting and planning, and also my ego, so I could immerse in the story.
I filtered out the rest of the noise, outside and inside, thus increasing my focus.
And I allowed my mind to go free, so the subconscious could solve the plot and characterization problems I’d launched into that left me temporarily directionless. I took the material that I had and found that as I let my mind go, I was solving problems and coming up with new material.
I found that my writing became about risk taking, surprises, making it up and letting go. I found, too, that I hadn’t wanted to leave the story for too long, abandoned, because it would become unfamiliar and not me.
I came back for my middle and The End.