Do the Work

Priority Number One for us now.
     
    That our project has crashed is not a reflection of our worth as human beings. It’s just a mistake. It’s a problem—and a problem can be solved.
     
    Now we go back to our sheet of yellow foolscap.
     
    Where did we go wrong? Where did this train go off the tracks?
     
    Somewhere in the three sections on our sheet of foolscap—beginning, middle, and end—and in the final section, the summation of the theme … somewhere in there lies the answer. Why is it so hard to find? It’s hard because it’s hard.
     
    I’m not trying to be cryptic or facetious. We went wrong at the start because the problem was so hard (and the act of solving it was so painful) that we ducked and dodged and bypassed. We hoped it would go away. We hoped it would solve itself. A little voice warned us then, but we were too smart to listen.
     
    The bad news is, the problem is hell.
     
    The good news is it’s just a problem.
     
    It’s not us. We are not worthless or evil or crazy. We’re just us, facing a problem.
     
    Work the Problem
     
    Here’s what crashed in my book—and how I solved it:
     
    The book, as I said, is called The Profession . It’s a military/political thriller set a few years in the future, when mercenary armies have replaced conventional ones.
     
    Scene after scene almost worked. But they all ran onto the same rocks: the events were so proximate time-wise that they could be doubted and second-guessed. The reader could say, “That’s bullshit, I was there and it didn’t happen like that.” And the events were too emotionally charged (9/11 played a role and so did fictional withdrawals from Iraq and Afghanistan) and involved such painful real-world issues (did our troops die in vain?) that they overwhelmed the basically simple story and pulled it off its politically speculative-future theme.
     
    Remember what we said before about friends and family? The answer came from there, from two people very close to me (they know who they are) who thrashed in and banged around inside the problem. They couldn’t see the full solution, but the ideas that they stirred up helped me see it.
     
    The answer was to move the book out farther into the future.
     
    That was the stroke that split the diamond.
     
    In other words, nothing mystical, nothing New Age-y, nothing involving the Law of Attraction.
     
    The solution was mechanical.
     
    It was like saying “Get the drive-wheel back on the pavement; then the car will come out of the ditch.” Or “put the ship-date off one month to give us time to repair the glitches first.”
     
    It worked. It took an extra year, but it solved the problem.
     
    And yes, the book did crash a second time after that, requiring a second trip back to Square One.
     
    What else is new?
     
    Moby Dick When It Crashes
     
    Just for fun, let’s imagine that Moby Dick crashed 9/10ths of the way through and Herman Melville texted us in a panic, pleading for help. What would the rescue operation look like?
     
    We hurry over to HM’s house and read the manuscript. Mel already has feedback from other friends and colleagues. All agree the book isn’t working. We ask our Big Question: “What’s missing?” The consensus focuses on the captain.
     
    One comment: “He’s kinda like Captain Queeg, an unbalanced neurotic.” Another: “He reminded me of Captain Bligh—an autocratic prick.”
     
    Let’s go to the foolscap. What does it say about the skipper?
     
    Next: a mortal to challenge the monster. He must be monstrous himself. Obsessed, arrogant, monomaniacal. Ahab.
     
     
    Hmmm. Let’s dig deeper. What does the foolscap say about the theme?
     
    … the clash between human will and the elemental malice of nature.
     
     
    Melville is freaking a little; he’s too close to the material, he has identified his hopes with it too much. Plus he’s broke and the rent is due. We’ve given him a couple of stiff tots of rum; he’s lying down in the bedroom. But still, the Problem. What exactly is it?
     
    Two things.
     
    First, Ahab as he stands now is weak; he’s not a worthy opponent for the White Whale. We have to beef him up.
     
    Second, the theme is incomplete.
     
    Again we ask, “What’s missing?”
     
    Ahab needs to be more monstrous, more monomaniacal. How can we accomplish that?
     
     
Give him a peg leg. (Remember, this wasn’t a cliché in the 1850s.)
     
Not just any peg leg, but one made of whale ivory.
     
Add that Ahab lost