After about two months of work, draft two of my novel is finally complete.
The process was almost as formidable as starting the first draft, but in an entirely different way.
Starting the first draft, I didn’t know what would unfold. Staring at the blank page, I found it difficult to envision how this would eventually grow into a full-fledged book. All I had was the whisper of a concept, but as I dove into writing, the story shaped itself as I went.
That first draft gave me something I’d never had before: proof that I could tell a story across 90,000 words. But it was rough, little more than a skeleton. To bring the story fully to life, I had to let go of what I’d written and start fresh, with a clearer sense of what it could become.
In some ways, it felt like a bigger mountain. I had climbed so far, only to realize I was climbing up the wrong mountain, and I would need to disembark to venture up the right one.
But, at the same time, it was a necessary process. I needed to write that first draft to uncover the story I really wanted to tell.
Over the ensuing weeks of finishing that draft, I spent time reflecting on where I wanted to take the story. While writing the first draft, I’d glimpsed flickers of new directions I could, and probably should, take the story. Now it was time to connect those threads and tie up the loose ends.
I made a conscious decision to not refer to the first draft very often while rewriting. I wanted this one to be fresh and written from the new outline I crafted. I also didn’t want to be tempted to take too much from the original draft because while that might speed up the process, it could ultimately shortchange the story’s true potential.
Even though I knew it was the right move, that didn’t make it any easier. The blank page felt daunting all over again.
After some time, I realized I was postponing the inevitable. The inner voice kept growing louder, telling me to stop procrastinating, no matter how long the journey ahead felt before I began.
The big picture can feel overwhelming, but when you break it down, it seems like a much more straightforward process: Do my best to write consistently each day, and soon words became paragraphs, paragraphs became chapters, and a story would piece itself together.
In some ways, the story came more naturally the second time because I not only spent the time to work through all of the storylines in the first draft, but I also spent time developing the outline between the two.
Yet, still, the story unfolded in surprising directions. Rather than force the story to follow my outline, I let it surprise me. Often, the clearest path only revealed itself mid-stride, once I stopped forcing the direction and let the words flow.
That made the process worthwhile. The days I didn’t feel like writing—when I had too much on my plate or just wanted to do nothing—often turned into the most rewarding sessions. That didn’t mean those days were easy. Many were a grind, a struggle to find the right words and properly convey the ideas swirling around in my head. But the breakthroughs always came, often at the most unexpected moments, and they were rewarding.
As I neared the end of the book, there were a few chapters I knew I wanted to keep from the first draft. They just needed some refinement to be tailored to the new storyline. This gave me a jumpstart that accelerated the momentum toward the finish line.
That surge of energy is what I hope to carry into the next phase as I work to chisel the story down to shape it into its finest version.
Naturally, the tone near the end feels different from the opening, but now that I know where it leads, I can shape the beginning to match.
I already know there are a few major issues to fix in the beginning, and I imagine I will uncover more as I read through the book from start to finish for the first time, but I’m excited to see where it goes as I view it through a different perspective.
Every story is a journey, not just for the characters but for the writer too. And this one has brought me farther than I ever expected.