I recently read through the draft of Art History in order to check for continuity errors (I have a habit of switching names of things) and refresh myself with the story in order to outline the last few chapters before sending it to my editor.
What I thought would be about six chapters at most, turned into twelve, and I still feel like I may be rushing the ending a bit. This is a new genre for me as a writer, so I’m giving myself some space to mess around.
I’ll be doing a post later about my strategy for keeping track of plots and subplots, as well as the details from scene to scene. I feel like I’ve smoothed out a bunch of rough spots, but more on that later.
My biggest surprise was how my point of view slipped from time to time. I’d start a chapter with Sebastian’s POV and then slip quietly into Willoughby’s head. Derek’s chapters occasionally hopped over to Casey or Sebastian and back. Let’s just say I left myself some pointed comments.
Since I started writing the story as a serial, I didn’t see it as a whole, enclosed story. I knew the happily-ever-after was inevitable (that’s hardly a spoiler for romance, even m/m romance) but how we were going to get there felt distant, cloaked in the mists of the time.
That was a problem for future Betty.
Or Lisbeth, since that’s the name I publish this under.
I can’t even stay in the same one of my own heads!
While I know there are authors that have mastered the third omniscient point of view, I feel like this story, with its two idiot leads (I say with love), lends itself to a more intimate view. It helps to be inside their heads. That’s how I’m seeing the world as I write.
Breaking point of view is now on my list of writing quirks I need to be watchful for. It happens in the drafting phase when I’m trying to keep up with my characters as they deviate from my carefully planned outline. I admit, it’s fun to follow them down those paths, but sometimes I need them to just sit still. Just for a minute.
I think one day I’ll publish a version of the story where I annotate all the places where I smacked myself in the forehead and thought, “Young man! Where do you think you’re going?”