Writing a novel a journey of discovery. I had a plan–I followed it, but I'm also deviating from it. And that's exactly how it should be.
I started writing the novel in early January. I have made good progress so far, reaching about 24,000 words. It's a good place to pause because it's the end of what I consider to be Act 1.
I thought I would write a full first draft of the novel without stopping for revisions. I worried that if I started rereading what I had written, I would become paralyzed and would never manage to put the full story down in a first draft. A fully-flushed out novel is a significant commitment. That's what I like about it.
However, as I began planning Act 2, I realized I needed to ensure Act 1 was fully coherent, my characters were well-developed, and that I was actually ready to move forward. I am now spending a few days rereading and adjusting key elements in Act 1, focusing on flow and strengthening dialogue to solidify the characters.
For example, one character’s journal entries feature prominently, but they slow the action and feel out of place. I wrote these entries before starting the novel, so they’re important to me—but now I realize they were more of a tool for developing the character than something the reader truly needs, at least in their current form.
I'm sharpening the dialogue to ensure it not only sounds natural but also reveals character and moves the story forward. I know I have a problem with an AI that sounds too human—or too much like the character it interacts with. But who’s to say that in 2065, an AI assistant wouldn’t mimic its user? I have to decide one way or the other and stay consistent.
I am not in a rush to finish the first draft. Over these past few days of reflecting on what I’ve written so far, I’ve also been playing with various loglines. As part of that process, I started exploring how each key character might introduce the story if they were telling it in their own memoir. This exercise has made me realize just how 'open' the story still is—and that I may need to narrow down the number of themes I’m addressing. None of these little exercises and experiments will make it into the novel itself, but it’s fun. More importantly, it’s helping me focus on what truly matters. I do have to be careful, though—I have a tendency to introduce too much complexity.
To accompany this journey, I signed up for an upcoming writer's conference, I am looking for a writers' group. and I am reading or listening to interesting non-fiction, including:
- Finding the Mother Tree: Discovering the Wisdom of the Forest, by Suzanne Simard which brings out the theme of curiosity, scientific discovery, deep knowledge and understanding of nature and sustainability.
- Islands of Abandonment: Nature Rebounding in the Post-Human Landscape, by Cal Flyn. which brings out a mix of dystopia and hope, related to themes of nature and resilience.
- Assembling Tomorrow: A Guide for Designing a Thriving Future, from the Stanford d.school), by Scott Doorley and Carissa Carter, which is simply amazing as it mixes some future-focused short stories with insights around designing the future, and is sprinkled with very imaginative Dali-inspired illustrations.
As I read these books—sometimes in parallel, listening to Finding the Mother Tree on my daily walks and sitting down with Assembling Tomorrow because it demands closer attention—I can’t help but see parallels between their themes and my own work. A reminder that writing is never done in isolation.
Next week, I will return to the Knowledge and Fiction series with a post on Knowledge at the Societal Level, which translated into the language of writers rather than Knowledge Management folks, revolves around aspects of World Building.