How to pull off a juggling act

I’ve never written a book before, and therefore I don’t really know how to do it. But I have a gut feeling that there are generally two different approaches: planned and emergent.

My assumption based on reading his books is that Neil Gaiman represents the emergent style of writing. His stories often have a very dreamlike feel to them (and I’m not just talking about The Sandman series). Stardust, for example, feels very organic in its structure, and therefore unpredictable, exploratory, and somewhat episodic. Characters come and go without ever returning, and plotlines arise and resolve without much consequence to the wider story.

This isn’t a criticism—I think Neil Gaiman is brilliant. But his stories don’t typically tie up in a neat little bow.

This contrasts with the Harry Potter series, where each book revolves around a mystery that clues the reader into the plot early on and ties it together by the end. For example, in The Chamber of Secrets, we learn that Harry can speak Parseltongue and that he’s hearing voices. Hermione’s research then reveals that Harry’s hearing a basilisk traveling through the plumbing to attack students. In The Prisoner of Azkaban, Harry keeps seeing a giant, shaggy dog—the Grim—which foreshadows death. We’re also told that Sirius Black has escaped to kill him. This pays off when the Grim is revealed to be Sirius himself, who is actually protecting Harry from Peter Pettigrew, disguised as Ron’s pet rat.

But beyond these individual mysteries, Harry Potter is threaded with clues that don’t pay off until much later. For example, in the fourth book, when Harry tells Dumbledore that Voldemort used his blood to resurrect himself, this happens:

““He said my blood would make him stronger than if he’d used someone else’s,” Harry told Dumbledore. “He said the protection my — my mother left in me — he’d have it too. And he was right — he could touch me without hurting himself, he touched my face.”

For a fleeting instant, Harry thought he saw a gleam of something like triumph in Dumbledore’s eyes. But next second, Harry was sure he had imagined it, for when Dumbledore had returned to his seat behind the desk, he looked as old and weary as Harry had ever seen him.”

This fleeting gleam of triumph gets paid off in the very climax of the entire series. At the end of the seventh book, you learn that Voldemort’s use of Harry’s blood has kept his mother’s protection alive within Voldment and ensured Harry’s ultimate survival:

““But if Voldemort used the Killing Curse,” Harry started again, “and nobody died for me this time—how can I be alive?” 

“I think you know,” said Dumbledore. “Think back. Remember what he did, in his ignorance, in his greed and his cruelty.”  [...]

“He took my blood.” said Harry. 

“Precisely!” said Dumbledore. “He took your blood and rebuilt his living body with it! Your blood in his veins, Harry, Lily’s protection inside both of you! He tethered you to life while he lives!””

This kind of stunning narrative forethought is not possible without a clear view of what’s to come. 

So, what’s the better approach?

I think both approaches have their pros and cons. For myself, I’ve been writing in an emergent style, for a few reasons.

• First, although I have a strong theme I want to communicate, I want to avoid producing a trite morality tale. I believe that allowing the story to unfold organically, unfettered by my own plans and machinations, helps keep the themes from feeling forced.

• Second, writing in an imaginative, emergent way has allowed unexpected details to emerge. Often, I’ll pause to let an image come to mind and describe that image, which makes the scene feel specific, even a little bizarre. Instead of naming an object or setting and inventing its attributes, the details come fully formed, and I simply try to capture them without judgement. This approach gives the scenes a unique specificity.

• Third, this style has also created a logical internal journey for my main character, June. Her dialogue and actions are often easy to come up with because they stem from natural reactions to bizarre situations. Because June is asking genuine questions, exposition often comes from other characters in a way that reveals plot and character naturally.

• Lastly, I’ve been writing with a pen in a notebook. Writing by hand means I can’t easily rearrange or edit, which helps me curb second-guessing and perfectionism. Only when I’m typing up what I’ve written do I start the editing process.

However, I also want this book to have continuity, a throughline, and a satisfying ending, so I’m thinking about how to bring things back around. I feel like an overconfident juggler who has tossed thirteen balls into the air and is now watching them all descend.

Me in my hubris

But what I’ve been noticing is that allowing my imagination to be organically free and open has created many details that can help anchor the descent of the story. 

A simple example of this emerged early in the story when June is sent on an errand by the villain. I described her journey along a stream full of multicolored stones. 

 I had June pick up a stone and put it in her pocket for no reason other than finding pretty stones is something I remember doing a lot when I was a kid. Later, when June is betrayed and needs a way to escape, I remembered that stone in her pocket and had her use it to startle a horse, causing a distraction. 

If I hadn’t mentioned the stone, I could have added it retroactively. But I don’t think I would have necessarily had that idea about how she might escape the scene if I didn’t know she had the stone in her pocket.

This is why I’m favouring an emergent style of writing. By allowing things to develop naturally, I hope they will resolve naturally as well. I think it comes down to trusting the process - trusting that I’ve put enough substance and detail on the page for each character that there is something in the beginning that can define the ending. And if not, I’ll just have to duck for cover.