On Writing: Trimming the Plot Kudzu

First, you get some really strong pruning shears….

Ahem.

Into every story, too many ideas will fall. I know, when you’re staring at a blank page or empty document file, it seems impossible that you could have too many ideas. But that’s the sticky thing when you finally get writing. Like any bunnies, plotbunnies multiply.

“Oh, wow, these icehounds used by the Dread Lord are so neat, what’s their ecology like? Who dared to train them in the first place? And is that why the kingdom three realms over is at war, or – oo, I know! It started over an arranged marriage gone wrong, and the princess escaped! And she’s living in exile in the Hero’s kingdom, and if people find out she’s alive it could upend the whole political equation-!”

See what I mean? These are neat story ideas in and of themselves, but maybe not what you want if you’re trying to tell a heroic tale of a (careful!) fire-throwing Hero finally defeating the Icy Overlord of the Winter North.

And then there’s the really sneaky bunnies of the “and then what happens?” variety. With the “then” being after the end of the current story.

Those, I swear, are some of the worst. Partly spawned by not wanting to admit you’ve come to The End, where the story’s tied up the majority of loose ends and the Hero has triumphed! (At least for now.)

So how do you handle this kind of plot kudzu? Because it will sneak in on you at the worst possible moment.

Snip. Snippety-snip. Have a place – physical folder, spare document, pile of notes, whatever – where you can keep all those extra fragments. That way your brain doesn’t throw a panicked fit about discarding all that beautiful hard work, what if you need it later?

Keep your snipped notes separate from your main work, and try not to look at them unless it’s necessary. That way they stand less chance of sneaking back in when you’ve already decided they don’t fit in this story.

And here I’ll digress into, how does the plot kudzu get rooted so deep in the first place?

Fear. Fear and exhaustion.

I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again; writing a story is a lot of work. It’s your brain’s ultramarathon, the long-distance haul through Death Valley where you run on the white line so the asphalt doesn’t melt your sneakers off. It’s hard, it’s long, and when you’re flailing in the midst of it you can easily believe you’ll never manage to do this again, ever. So every shred of an idea you come up with has to go in, because there will never be another chance!

Bull. I tell you, bull.

I know, it’s survival fear, and that’s the absolute worst kind to fight. You may think, looking at the fact that I have published books, that it can’t possibly have as much of a hold on me as it does on “regular people”.

…It does, believe me. I’ve just learned how to scream and leap my way past it, flailing madly, sometimes with my eyes closed. Which can make for – er- interesting editing later.

(You also don’t see my towering pile of half-finished drafts and ideas that haven’t made it to a draft start. Yet. Gah.)

If your bunnies are insistent that clipping something is a Bad Idea? Take a step back and try to sum up your story in three sentences or less. What, at its core, is your story about? Does the new bunny support that basic Idea? If not, snip it. Keep it for later.

But what if later never comes?

When I finish a work, edits and all, my brain tends to go blank with No Story Here… for a while. Days, sometimes weeks depending on how long and stressful the project was. But. The ideas come back. Your brain just needs a little rest first.

The stories come back. And then you can dive into What Happens Next!

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