I have some s’plainin’ to do.
I haven’t done a newsletter since December 31 because grad school, y’all. It’s been <mumblty-something> years since I’ve been a student, and in January, I decided to take three classes at once (seemed like a good idea at the time: “3 classes couldn’t be much worse than 2 classes, right?” 😂🤣😳). Ahem. Anyway, lesson learned, I survived, opted for 2 classes this term, and life is manageable again.
So where were we?
Ah — Story Genius. If I can remember forever ago, chapter 9 was the last one I covered in which Lisa Cron had me writing the opening scene to my novel. So naturally, chapter 10 is titled: “The Real Aha! Moment: Where Will Your Story End?”
Wait, what? What happened to all the stuff in the middle?
There’s actually a beautiful logic in skipping ahead to write the ending before tackling the Murky Middle. When you set out on any journey (whether real or fictional), it’s just smart to have a destination in mind.
“Unless you know where your story is headed right out of the starting gate, chances are you’ll never get there” (Lisa Cron, Story Genius, p. 165).
But the twist is that we’re not really writing “the end.” What we’re shooting for is the “aha” moment—that point near the end where the main character (MC) has the big epiphany💡about the misbelief we spent so much time and backstory establishing in previous exercises.
We can always start with the plot points—what happens in the scene—but then it needs to connect to the inner conflict that has been building over the entire story. It’s not a question of whether the MC changes or achieves the goal; the “aha” moment is more about the point where she is forced to choose to either change and achieve or stay the same and fail. It’s not the end result that matters as much as the HOW and WHY the end result is what it is. And thus, we have the connection to that third rail Cron talks about so much: the emotional current that powers the superficial plot.
Fortunately, I already had a pretty good idea where the plot was going to end up. What I needed to work on was what it all meant in terms of Quinn’s inner conflict and how it would affect her going forward.
I started with the Scene Card.
And then I wrote the scene. It’s a long one, over 2,000 words, so I won’t post the whole thing here, but this is the important part, the “aha” moment:
I couldn’t stand there and watch. “Stop!” I waded in, trying to stop the blows, but she somehow managed to transfer the letter opener to her free hand. As she raised her arm to strike, Dawson finally moved, shoving her with surprising force. She flew back, hit her head on the desk, and fell to the floor. The letter opener hit the hardwood and clattered across the parlor, coming to a spinning stop under the coffee table. Dixie didn’t move.
The adrenaline evaporated in the next heartbeat, and it was all I could do to stay upright, gasping for air and staring at her. Then it hit me what Dawson had just done. For me. And what he’d been doing—and not doing—since I’d shown up here out of the blue and tipped Dixie’s mental scale past crazy, into insane. I forced myself to turn and look at him. He was standing there, expressionless as usual, not even breathing hard. His lip was bleeding, eye already swelling.
“Dawson?” I whispered. He didn’t respond. I reached for his hand, and when I touched it, he flinched. But I tried again, and this time, he let me hold it. “I’m so sorry,” I said, unable to form the words to describe what all I was sorry for. For thinking the worst of him, for the cloud of suspicion that Dixie had so meticulously and deliberately put him under, for the years of abuse and undeserved mistreatment he must have endured, and for the horrible knowledge and regret he’d had to carry alone all this time.
I’d never once seen a hint of emotion on his face, but now his lower lip trembled. He mumbled, “Wolf,” and then pulled away and walked out the front door. I knew where he was going and let him leave. He needed to go tell Delilah she was finally going to get justice.
I knelt and checked Dixie’s pulse. Her heart was still beating, but she was knocked out cold. As I stood, my shirt shifted on my chest, making the small cut sting. There was a spot of blood around the hole, probably not even mine. I should have made him let me look at his hand; he was going to need stitches.
I moved into the kitchen to look for anything I could use to tie her up before she woke up and caught a glimpse through the window of him disappearing into the woods. It struck me that he seemed to be walking a little straighter than before, with a little bit less of a limp, a little more confidence. He’d finally stood up to her. He’d probably have never done it for himself, but when he had to make the choice, he’d done it for me and for the sake of the sister who had loved him, the one he hadn’t been able to save. As damaged as he was, I couldn’t fathom the courage that must have taken. It occurred to me then that Delilah had shown the same courage by making sure I was safe and as far away from Dixie as possible, probably even knowing what her own fate would be. And while my heart broke for both of them, I also felt a deep gratitude and pride in that legacy of courage—and a connection that could possibly be worth more to me than even the Everly name.
As with every first draft, it’s not great, but that’s okay—because it’s not set in stone. It’s going to be re-written. A lot, probably. But the important thing is that I now have a tentative destination for where this story will end up. It may veer a little to one side or the other, but the essential plot points will remain the same: I know who the bad guy is, who the good guy is, and how Quinn will feel when she figures it out.
Don’t forget to find time to read a good book, write some words, smile in the sunshine, and hug your people. 📖 📝 😎 💕
Tip of the Month
Don’t draft and edit at the same time!
While scanning the interwebs for new and exciting tips, I came across this one, which I felt in my bones. I’m so guilty of this, and it probably explains why writing is such a slooooooow process for me. I’m constantly going back, re-reading, changing things, moving things around … then I write a new sentence … then go back and start the process all over …
The ability to push forward is definitely a muscle that needs to be worked and developed, so there’s a challenge for you (and me)! ✍️💪
Read Any Good Books Lately?
I’m late to this party, seeing as how it’s already been made into a Netflix series (which I haven’t watched yet because, ya know, gotta read the book first), but I just finished Firefly Lane and the sequel Fly Away by Kristen Hannah. So good! I haven’t cried like that since The Notebook.
Did You Know?
We all know what a palindrome is: a word that is spelled the same forward and backward. But there is a name for a word that spells a different word backward (pots/stop). It’s called a semordnilap—which is “palindromes” spelled backward.
And Finally …
IT’S SPRING!! 💐🌷🌼🌺💐🌷🌹🌸🌱☀️ IT’S SPRING!!
Ooh I really like your scene card! I need to draw up a similar one. I feel like I really struggle with having external conflict match/reflect/amplify internal conflict. This would make a great monthly writing exercise if you want to run one! In between classes, of course :p Congratulations for getting through all three!