Puzzles

My type of neuro-spicy loves puzzles. Logic puzzles were my go-to as a kid, then jigsaws —just not with huge swaths of monochrome—then things that life threw at me; if I could turn it into a puzzle it was solvable. 

Over the past few years, I have come to see stories as puzzles as well. Characters, plot, world  settings are all pieces that get dumped on the table in the first draft and moved around until they fit and make the picture in my head. 

I started writing a new novel a few weeks ago—a continuation of the series I started in Grad School—and while I know my characters pretty well by this time, the biggest struggle I am facing is uncovering which story to tell; which puzzle pieces are important. After forcing 5000 words into Scrivener I wrinkled my nose and went back to basics.

The first question I ask students or workshop participants is :What does your protagonist want? It is a deceptively easy question that often requires a sturdy metaphorical shovel to get to the bottom of. I had to go back and examine my girl’s “big hurt” and how it had shaped her behavior over the first two books to armchair analyze where it might take her next. What surprised me is how much I needed her to change and grow by the middle of the book to edge into the conflict for the sequel. 

With that info on a handful of notecards pinned to the wall, I dug into the philosophical movements of the historical period. The Portable Enlightenment Reader, edited by Isaac Kramnick, is chonky, both physically and in the mental energy requirement side of things, but, I have discovered that rooting motivations in authentic ground is worth the time spent creating sparkle ink charts juxtaposing Bacon, Locke, and Kant (in previous books it was deep diving into Cotton Mather which led to some very convenient plot threads). 

Not to jump too far into the geek pool, but it turns out Pre-revolutionary Boston was a hotbed for surprisingly liberal theology. Sure Philadelphia had its Quakers, but Boston was getting universalism, rational thinking, and exhortations against Whitfield’s Great Awakening from pulpits across the city. Many sermons wouldn’t be out of place in a modern Episcopal or ELCA church.

Historical Fiction has bones of fact and for my work those facts tend to be recorded events. When I listen to podcasts, watch documentaries, read books, I am always listening for interesting events or history weirdsies to throw on notecards for my wall. I had the dates for arena shifts on my timeline long before I had much of an idea where the story was headed. 

Why? I hope you ask. Well that is actually going to be a separate Overthinking, but for now the short answer is I tend to have a general idea of what is happening in the next couple of books so I can begin researching ahead of time. 

With the where and why figured, I was able to jump back onto the page this week and start cranking out some mischief. It was as if my brain gave this huge sigh of relief. I do have some plot chasms ahead, with two time jumps I will have to gracefully navigate, but those are puzzles in themselves and I don’t have to overthink them tonight.