My Kitchen Floor and Other Sticky Situations

Writing, when you think about it, can be rather like cleaning the house. That’s to say if you’re a writer, you have to write. And if you live in any accommodation short of a coal bin, you have to clean.

The problem with cleaning your house is that it gets dirty again. Consider my kitchen floor. It’s a glorious, golden maple marked by eighty years of family life. Recently, my own family announced plans to visit so I swept it, mopped it, and waxed it. Boy, did it shine.

Then, a rogue brussels sprout skidded across the floor, leaving a trail of butter sauce. The scent of broiling lamb chops drew my drooling dog to the kitchen. After the meal, I spilled a hot cup of coffee—complete with cream and sugar. I wiped up these messes, but the damage was done. Now, my kitchen floor isn’t just dirty. It’s downright sticky!

Writing is the exact same way. You may think you’re done with that draft, but are you? Time and your trusted critique group can help you decide. In my case, the opening scene, which seemed so spic and span, is really a sticky situation. It snags readers on too many points instead of sending them on into the rest of the story. My manuscript doesn’t touch their hearts because too many questions are sticking in their heads.

How does a writer fix this kind of sticky situation? I’m treating my opening scene like my kitchen floor. Instead of a quick swipe, I’m going back to the beginning and cleaning it up.

In my current revision, I’m asking myself what does the reader need to know right now?

Next, I make a list of those things, and I keep the list short.

I work hard to reveal each listed point in description, dialogue, and action.

I cut anything that doesn’t fall under the heading of Needs to Know Right Now, but I save these bits. After all, the reader will need to know those details as my story progresses. If she doesn’t need to know them now, they don’t belong in this scene. If she doesn’t need to know them ever, they don’t belong in the manuscript.

Just like cleaning the floor, cleaning up this opening scene is proving to be hard work. I’ll get it done, though. Once I’m finished with it, hopefully, it’ll shine.

Now, the Rockville 8 wants to know what part of your manuscript is the sticky part? How do you plan to fix it? Which household chore do you hate the most? If I promise you tea and cake afterward, will you come over and mop my kitchen floor?

The Cutting Edge

Recently, I had the privilege of sitting in on someone else’s critique. The scene under discussion was a gripping one. The hero and heroine were in danger—and he was at a distinct disadvantage. To my surprise, though, several writers told the author, “Cut his vulnerability.”

Why? Because his situation touched something visceral in each and every one of us. And none of us were entirely comfortable with that.

Now, if you’re a writer, you’ve been to those workshops where the industry's top editors and agents teach us to up the stakes. Make things bad for the good guys, they tell us. Then, make things worse.

But how do we know when things are worse? Well, in real life, our palms sweat and our stomachs knot. It’s the same in fiction.

Of course, there is such a thing as going too far. When your hero is too hot to handle for no reason at all, or your heroine is TSTL (Too Stupid To Live), or your villain vividly violates the deepest taboos of our society and we see it page after page after page, you might consider dialing it back a notch. Because your reader needs to have a knee-jerk reaction, not a gut-wrenching experience.

However, it’s a visceral reaction that gets your readers emotionally invested in the outcome of your story. When your reader laughs or cries or cheers or boos, she’ll stick with you to the end of your novel—and throughout your career. So don’t be afraid to make that heroine a little more brash or that hero a little more vulnerable. Provoke a reaction. Rather than cut those details from your scenes, push the situation to the very edge. That’s what I call the Cutting Edge.

Many of our favorite books engage us emotionally by pushing us to the Cutting Edge. If you're not sure you can lay your finger on the Cutting Edge, check out these bestsellers from Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre to Lisa Kleypas’ Sugar Daddy, Harlan Coben’s Long Lost to Michael Connelly’s The Lincoln Lawyer, and J.D. Robb’s Naked in Death to Lisa Scottoline’s Dirty Blonde.

Now it’s your turn to talk to the Rockville 8. As a writer, have you ever stepped back from the Cutting Edge? Why? Did you regret it? As a reader, which of your favorite books push your emotional buttons to the Cutting Edge?