I’ve said it before: my characters run the show. They tell me their names. They decide what happens. And if I write the wrong thing? They go silent. I spin my wheels until I figure out what they actually want. I’m used to it by now.
Sometimes they withhold information entirely--until they drop a bombshell. When that happens (looking at you, Damon from Ravyn’s Flight), I stop everything and revise from the beginning to layer in the foreshadowing. It’s disruptive, but necessary.
Other times, they show me scenes that are…boring. Not for me--I need the info--but for readers? Nope. What they spin out in 2,000 words can usually be distilled into two sentences in the next scene. The one where something actually happens.
I’m deep in this kind of detail right now with Wicked Temptation. Cal and Io have history. They have backstory. And they’re giving me everything. I need it to write their story. But readers? They’ll get thimblefuls. Just enough to understand the emotional stakes. My job is to screen what Cal and Io are passing along so the book doesn’t become a series of vignettes--it becomes a cohesive, compelling story.
Every scene I write has to accomplish three things. Backstory and transition aren’t on that list. They might be present, but they’re not the point. If a scene doesn’t hit three? It gets cut.
Have I written scenes that never make the book? Absolutely. Sometimes the characters are insistent. I write the chapter, stare at the pages of boredom they’ve spewed, and drop it into my unused scenes folder. Occasionally I try to salvage it--add enough to make it work--but it rarely does. It just delays the inevitable.
Take Cal and Io again. I know how they met. I know how they got married. I know what broke them. Readers will get the tip of the iceberg. I know 90% more than what’s on the page--including the scenes I’ve cut.
In some ways, I’m a gatekeeper between reader and story. I have to tell my characters, “That’s boring. No one cares.” And then write something readers do care about. Something that advances the story. Something that earns its place by accomplishing three things.
My unused scene folder grows based on two factors:
How much trivia the characters are sharing
How long it takes me to realize it’s not advancing the story--it’s just putting everyone to sleep
I’ve gotten better at this over the years. You do not want to see the amount of cut scenes from Ravyn’s Flight. It’s staggering.
Now? Not as much. I recognize a snoozefest much earlier. I’ve learned to be ruthless.
