Achievement unlocked
I did it. Nearly seventy thousand words in just under six weeks, a marathon run at sprint pace. I now have what every writer wants but few actually possess: a complete first draft. It's an accomplishment in itself, but it's only the first waypoint toward the great goal.
So many writers have both the desire and skill to finish a draft, but they can't help getting in their own way. The temptation to "get it right" on the first try proves too strong. It drags them back to the starting line, where they either rework what they've already created or scrap it entirely and start over, hoping for a better roll of the dice. Maybe I'll get it right this time. But that's not how it works. Nobody gets it perfect on the first try, not even close. That's why we call it a first draft. The phrase implies more drafts to come.
My cardinal rule of writing has always been "you can't edit what's not on the page." Only now that I have a finished draft, have I earned the right to go back and fix what's wrong with it. And there's plenty to fix.
Every storytelling instinct I have wants me to scroll to the top of the manuscript and start revising while it's fresh in my mind. I know which scenes felt rushed. I can see the plot holes big enough to drive a truck through. I can hear the clunky dialogue that sounds like a middle school play. I can fix it!
But here's the thing: I can't. At least not yet.
Experience and conventional wisdom have taught me that I'm too close to it right now. I won't be able to see all the problems that need fixing. I'll just be shuffling words around on the page.
I need perspective. I need distance. To get is, means putting the draft aside for a few weeks and not working on it. At all.
When I return to it in the new year, I'll be able to read it with fresh eyes. Distance creates objectivity, and objectivity is what a first draft desperately needs. The passages that are gems worth polishing and those that are stones to throw overboard will make themselves obvious.
So, into the lockbox it goes until sometime next month.
What's Next?
I'm not going idle. My creative writing muscles are loose and limber. Now isn't the time for a cool down lap and swig of Gatorade. I have a great opportunity to keep the momentum over the next few weeks. I'm going to start work on a new project. I've been chewing for some time on the idea for a thrilling space adventure with an unreliable narrator. Now's the time to see if there's any meat on that bone.
"The first draft is just you telling yourself the story."
For my essay on storytelling this week, I’m focusing in on what it takes to create characters that feel real and draw us in as readers.
What makes a well-written character?
Well-written characters are the heart of great stories. Readers step into their lives for a little while and see what it feels like to move through their world. As storytellers, that means our characters need to feel real and intentional.
There are a lot of discussion on this topic; far more than I could cover here. But I want to share the elements of character design I consider essential. The next time you read a novel or watch a film, pause for a moment and ask yourself whether the characters fit this list.
In my opinion, a good character should have these things:
GMC - Goals, Motivations, and Conflict (more on that in a moment).
Flaws - We all have them, and when a character has them too, they feel more real.
Agency - Their choices are what move the story forward.
Voice - A distinct voice helps a character stand out a be noticed.
Relatability - A character should have feelings and make decisions that are relatable, even if they aren't what we might feel or do in a given situation.
While these all important, I consider GMC to be first among equals. A GMC is the motor that moves your character, and in turn, the plot. Let me break it down:
Goal: This is what your character wants. It's usually something external.
Motivation: This is why your character wants their goal. It's usually something internal.
Conflict: This is what's preventing your character from achieving their goal. It can be either internal or external.
Here are a few of examples:
Andy Dufresne (The Shawshank Redemption)
Goal: Maintain his humanity and eventually escape
Motivation: Innocence and hope - refusing to let prison destroy who he is
Conflict: Life sentence, the Warden's corruption, and Red's cynicism representing the temptation to give up
Michael Corleone (The Godfather)
Goal: Stay out of the family business and live a legitimate life
Motivation: He wants to be different from his father, to be "American"
Conflict: Family loyalty after his father is shot; his own capacity for violence he didn't know he had
Katniss Everdeen (The Hunger Games)
Goal: Survive the games and get home to protect Prim
Motivation: Family - she's been the provider since her father died, and mother checked out emotionally
Conflict: 23 other tributes, the Capitol's manipulation, and her own emotional detachment that makes alliances difficult
In each example, you understand what the character wants, why they want it, and what they have to overcome to get it. With these things in place, you have the elements you need to start plotting a story.
However, the idea of a GMC isn't just for overall story arcs. These elements should also be used at the scene level. Take a look at this example from the climactic scene of A Few Good Men.
Here are Kaffee's scene-specific GMC:
Goal: Get Jessup to admit he ordered the Code Red - force a confession that Santiago's death wasn't the guards' fault but came from the top
Motivation: This is his last shot. He has no hard evidence, and if he can't break Jessup on the stand, his clients go to prison for murder. It's also personal now - he needs to prove he's not just a plea-bargain lawyer, that he can go toe-to-toe with power and win. Jessup has been condescending to him throughout, and Kaffee needs to prove himself.
Conflict: Jessup is arrogant, disciplined, and knows that admitting the truth will destroy him. He's a decorated colonel who's far better at controlling a room than Kaffee. The judge keeps threatening to hold Kaffee in contempt. His own co-counsel (Weinberg) is signaling him to back off. And Kaffee's walking a tightrope - push too hard without evidence and he loses everything; back off and his clients are convicted.
Those three elements drive Kaffee to use Jessup's pride and arrogance against him and bait him into his famous confession. "You can't handle the truth!" isn't just a great line; it's Kaffee pushing Jessup's ego button, knowing this man cannot resist defending his decision. Jessup's need to justify himself and dominate Kaffee becomes his undoing.
Secondary characters benefit from the same treatment. Jessup’s own goal, motivation, and conflict are clear in that moment as well. Kurt Vonnegut puts it simply: every character in a scene should want something.
“Make your characters want something right away even if it's only a glass of water. Characters paralyzed by the meaninglessness of modern life still have to drink water from time to time.”
When you place a few of your characters in the same room and each one arrives with their own GMC, flaws, agency, voice, and relatable humanity, the storytelling almost takes care of itself. Their wants will collide, their flaws can open new complications, and their decisions will carry the scene forward in ways that feel natural and dramatic.
Good stories grow from characters who feel alive on the page. When you take the time to understand their goals, motivations, and conflicts, you invite readers into something real. Try looking at your own favorite characters through this lens and see what you discover. You might find that the stories you love are driven by these same simple principles.