Choosing the Story that Needs Me Right Now

I've been going back and forth between two novels.

One is The Shape Inside, a novel I've spent considerable time living with. The other is What Walked the Boreen, which is newer, less developed, and currently the story I'm still discovering.

And I have to admit, choosing which one to take to my writer's retreat for my 8,000-word workshop submission has been harder than I expected.

My first instinct was The Shape Inside. It's the bigger story. It's ambitious. I've spent so much time in that world that I could probably discuss almost any chapter without needing to stop and explain what led me there. I know the characters. I know the history. I know the secrets. I know where the story is going and, perhaps more importantly, why.

But the more I thought about the workshop, the more I realized that might actually be the problem. The Shape Inside is complicated. Very complicated. There are layers to that story that would take time to explain before anyone could really offer the kind of feedback I'm looking for. An 8,000-word workshop submission is not particularly long, and I don't want to spend half of my opportunity explaining the machinery behind the story rather than discussing the writing itself.

So I've decided to submit What Walked the Boreen. And I'm excited about that decision. Part of the reason is that What Walked the Boreen is still new enough to surprise me. I'm discovering things as I draft it.

I'm also discovering that my master outline isn't nearly as perfect as I thought it was. And honestly? That's a good thing. There have already been moments where I've reached a chapter and realized that something I planned months ago doesn't quite work anymore. A character needs to do something differently. A piece of the investigation doesn't fit as neatly as I thought it would. A clue needs to move. Something I thought was important turns out not to be important at all.

Those aren't necessarily problems. They're signs that the story is becoming something more than an outline. An outline is a map. Drafting is actually walking the road. Sometimes you discover that the road on your map doesn't exist. Sometimes you find a better road. And sometimes you realize you've been heading toward the wrong destination entirely.

That's part of the excitement of writing a novel.

With The Shape Inside, I've been living in that world for so long that I can see most of the roads. With What Walked the Boreen, I'm still exploring. That makes the workshop feel different. I'm not taking a story that I consider unfinished and hoping someone will tell me how to fix it. I'm taking a story that is actively developing and inviting other writers to help me see things I might not be seeing yet.

That's a much more exciting prospect. There is another advantage to choosing What Walked the Boreen. Because it is newer, I haven't become quite as protective of it. That doesn't mean I don't believe in it. I do. But I'm still close enough to the discovery stage that I'm willing to listen. And that's what I want from the retreat. I don't need someone to tell me that my story is perfect. I certainly don't expect that. I want someone to tell me what isn't working. I want to know where they became confused, where their attention wandered, where they wanted more, where something surprised them, and where a character didn't feel quite right.

I want feedback that makes me go back to the manuscript and say, Oh. I see it now. That's much more valuable to me than simple encouragement.

I'm still excited about The Shape Inside. I still believe in that novel. And I'm sure I'll continue going back into that world, because some stories become places you don't really leave. But for this particular moment, What Walked the Boreen is the story that needs me.

Maybe that's why I've been enjoying the drafting process so much. Every time I discover something wrong with my outline, I have another reason to go deeper into the story. The mistakes aren't pulling me away from the novel. They're pulling me further into it.

And perhaps that's exactly what I need from this retreat—not reassurance that I've already figured everything out, but the opportunity to discover what I haven't figured out yet.

So What Walked the Boreen is going to the workshop. Eight thousand words. A room full of writers. And a story that I'm still learning how to tell.

I think that's a pretty good place to begin.