Authors of speculative fiction often joke of “Worldbuilder’s Disease.” One spends so much time working on their setting that they neglect the project they’re creating it for. About six months ago, I experienced a similar affliction but with plotting.

I try to accomplish three things before I start writing a first draft. I begin with the characters, figuring out their inner conflicts, their arcs, their personalities and pasts. Then I compose a short paragraph for each scene/chapter. And finally, I perform the necessary research and/or worldbuilding.

In the past, I’ve not been a rigid plotter, though I like to know my characters thoroughly enough that they can lead me through a story. Outlines were always more of a jumping-off point than the exact order of events. But as I struggled with my writing late last year, I started depending on them more and more.

It was the little things that got me. This minute detail in a character’s past doesn’t feel genuine. That scene gives information a tad too quickly. Let me research this other unrelated thing just in case it’s brought up.

I realize in hindsight that my obsessive outlining was a way to avoid writing, letting my insecurities fester. I was so anxious about the quality of my writing that my brain invented a way to seem like I was being productive without accomplishing anything of value.

I started the outline for my novella Beyond the Dark Shore in October last year. It should have taken me no more than a month. Instead, it took three. My perfectionism made me go over it again and again. A terse chapter summary became pages and pages.

Once I finished my novella, I returned to short fiction. Surely this need to excessively plot wouldn’t translate into short stories. How wrong I was.

In February, I worked on an outline for “Meat Ship.” It was the most thought-out and original science fiction story I’ve ever conceived. My usual pessimism was gone. If I could just get it written, I could start finding it a home.

But like the Hydra, everything I fixed in “Meat Ship” only created two more problems. I rewrote the characters three different times and toiled over the plot outline for weeks. The amount of research involved intimidated me to the point of procrastinating just so I wouldn’t have to deal with it.

Four weeks later, I hadn’t even written the first sentence. I think “Meat Ship” would have been a half-decent story if I actually put pen to paper. Instead, I just kept fussing over it in the quest to get everything juuuust right.

I had to do something or else I’d never get another word written.

Years ago, I followed the Bradbury Method which involved writing a short story every week. Most of these stories didn’t turn out too well (I wasn’t putting the necessary thought into the characters at the time), but I learned more about writing in those six months than I had in years.

That gave me an idea, a challenge even. I told myself that I would compose a short story from idea to finished first draft in only seven days. This meant I couldn’t be a perfectionist or a dawdler.

It took me a total of four hours over two days to take the vague premise in my mind and turn it into a fleshed-out plot and characters. Four days after that, I had completed the rough draft of “Blood in the Wind,” sitting at 4,045 words.

(I chose to write a horror story since that’s the genre I know best. I recently watched John Carpenter’s The Fog. Everything about the film made me remember why I love horror so much, so I’m sticking with it for now.)

It was freeing to jump into a short story without weeks of notes prepared. In fact, two thirds of the way through the story, I deviated from the outline, letting my characters take the reins.

From now on, I’m putting a strict deadline on my outlining. It’s too tempting to fuss and primp in pursuit of the impossible dream of perfection. Mistakes will be made, that’s a given, but I’d rather correct those in editing than never write that first sentence.

Tchau,

Zé