It happens before you realize it’s coming: You’re writing away, smashing keys, or scribbling to keep up with the word barrage pouring out of your brain meat when it hits you.
That can’t be right, you think, pausing, backing up to read those last sentences, finger hovering over but never coming down on the backspace button. I didn’t know that.
Your character has gone ahead and done or revealed the unexpected.
Now, you have the important task of figuring out how to navigate your story when the path no longer adheres to your writing plan.
So, what to do?
The functional challenges of handling the unexpected
All authors have their own processes for writing. Some need to have fully fleshed out and detailed scene-by-scene outlines that they never veer away from. Some open a new document and begin writing, allowing the resulting story to unfold before them as they write it. Most authors, myself included, land somewhere between these two creative methodological extremes.
If you were here for last week’s article on plot turning points and story development, you already know I encourage you to know at least a few things that happen in the story, landmark or milestone moments around which you will ultimately write the story.
Beyond those turning points, though — and even those aren’t set in stone — the manuscript becomes your playground. You get to watch your characters like you watch your children as they interact with others, test themselves, fail, and succeed. Your characters, like your children, are also bound to surprise you.
When you realize an unexpected character action or revelation through the act of writing itself, wherein the thing your character says, thinks, or does was not on your outline and you, the author, may not have (consciously) floated the idea, you may initially want to panic.
- How am I going to work with that?
- The character didn’t tell anyone else they had done that!
- This is going to mess up all my planning for the rest of the story.
If you’ve encountered the unexpected, don’t panic. Instead, hit your internal pause button and recognize that one of two things has happened: Either your character has acted autonomously to show you their interiority, or you didn’t understand your character as well as you thought you did.
Regardless of its genesis, recognize that your character’s action, speech, or thought was necessary to show you, the author, something important.
Pay attention.
When a character acts in an unexpected way
As you write, you likely often see your characters move through their world along your plot path. They’re in familiar-to-you settings, they speak in a common vernacular, they do the things they say they’re going to do or otherwise want or need to do. But every once in a while, your character will do something weird or wild.
Unexpected actions may include:
- Hiding something physical, like cash, firearms, drugs, photographs, memorabilia, or plunder.
- Hiding something personal, like appointments or dates with lovers, bosses, doctors, or law enforcement officers.
Last week, while I was in flow and smacking away at my keyboard, my main character did something unexected: She walked into a dark room, pulled open a drawer, and stuffed something into the back of it without telling her partner it was there.
Now, I know what she hid. I knew it as soon as I watched her hand disappear into that dark drawer. But I never expected her to hide anything at all. The entire scene in which she removed something from her pocket to hide it was unplanned and surprising. It caused me to pause. And more than a pause, I had to get up. I had to walk away from my manuscript for a bit, had to go tell my partner, “Evelyn just hid [an object] from her partner, and I don’t know how I feel about it.”
But the more thinking I did, the clearer her rationale became.
Evelyn needed me to see her hide the object because she needed me to understand the true and present nature of her relationship with the man she calls her partner, though their relationship resembles no partnership I want to be part of. I knew her relationship wasn’t the most supportive or functional, and I know some things are coming later in the writing that will showcase the lack of support she experiences, but I didn’t realize how bad her relationship was from the get-go, which adds a new layer of interpersonal tension to her world and catalyzes her actions from that point forward.
When a character reveals unexpected information
Fiction dialogue can’t exactly mirror real conversation, despite the writing advice encouraging us all to turn our characters into real people. Sometimes when you’re writing, characters will speak to each other for seemingly little reason. Allow your characters to engage in the kind of blasé small talk (you’ll edit it out later) that starts with “how’s the weather” and results in deeply introspective philosophical ravings that help readers understand theme. While your characters are talking freely and openly without your superimposed script, they can say some weird and wild things.
Unexpected speech and thought may include:
- Misalignment of thoughts and actions showing disingenuousness or the tendrils of rebellion
- Thwarted red herrings you thought were real clues
Now, Evelyn hasn’t said something that felt like a flyball into left field just yet, but for the sake of the argument, here’s a for-instance:
Evelyn has returned home from work where she serves drinks for cash tips; she has $300 in her pocket. Her partner is still awake and asks how much she made during her shift. Evelyn replies, “Not much, like a hundred bucks, maybe.” My question then becomes, Why would she lie about how much money she made? What are the consequences if her partner uncovers the lie? What are the benefits if he doesn’t?
Here’s another for-instance:
Someone has broken into your main character’s home and stolen a priceless family heirloom while tossing the place. MC turns to her husband for emotional support, and while surveying the wreckage, notices a book of matches left behind from a club she’s never heard of, much less visited. You and MC believe you’ve stumbled upon an important clue, and you and she set off to the club to ask a few questions. Meanwhile, your omniscient narrator dips into the head of MC’s husband. From his thoughts, you learn that not only was he the leaver of matches, he’s guilty of committing adultery with a woman he met at that very same club.
The book of matches is a false clue; her husband’s words as MC walks out the door — “I’m sure you’ll find the answers you’re looking for.” — are disingenuous. He knows the burglar had nothing to do with those matches. Now you, too, know the burglar had nothing to do with those matches, but in dramatically ironic fashion, MC is in the dark and following a false trail to a false clue that can never solve the mystery of the burlgary, though it may lead to her discovering her husband’s extracurricular activities.
From this example, I have more questions. Why would the husband empty his post-club pockets onto the table in the hallway? Does he want the affair to be found out? Why or why not? Would the affair affect the larger mystery? Did the Other Woman toss the place and steal the heirloom? Does MC suspect anything at all from her husband, or does she have burglary tunnel-vision?
When questions like these and others arise, ponder them. Weigh the possibilities and likely and unlikely outcomes.
Re-calibrating the writing path after the unexpected
Sometimes when your character says or does something you don’t expect, the unexpected thing is small enough to work into your existing writing plan fairly seamlessly. At times, though, the unexpected thing is so big, so surprising, that it effectively changes the plot points that come after.
For example, while in writing flow, Evelyn went to work and had a conversation with a patron that revealed theme. I expected this conversation, had planned for it in fact. Except, the conversation occured earlier than I’d planned and the thematic statement came from a character I didn’t anticipate. Now I have a planned conversation several scenes in the future that can no longer happen without beating up the reader in “As you know, Bob” fashion.
The joys.
When the unexpected changes your outline, know that the change happened for a reason. Something was amiss in the original plan. Revisit what you know about your character, and what you don’t know.
As my colleague and friend, Kristin Noland, encourages, take your character out for coffee. “Inviting them for coffee and having a chat with them can help you figure out their preferences and habits. Invite them for more coffee chats or to dinner where you ask them more personal questions and get to the heart of what makes them unique.”
After you learn a few more interesting tidbits about the people who’se lives you’re writing, look at your writing plan or plot outline with fresh eyes. Chances are, you will see fairly quickly, how to keep yourself on track while your character maintains their autonomy and keeps those surprises coming.
So, what surprising thing has your character done?
Happy writing!
<3 Fal
P.S. If you’re a pantser, you already write your stories by navigating the unexpected, even if you have a rough understanding of the story you’re writing. Drop your advice for navigating the unexpected in the comments! Sharing is caring.
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Fallon Clark is the book pal who helps you tell your story in your words and voice using editorial, coaching, writing, and project management expertise for revision assistance, one-on-one guidance, and ghostwriting for development. Her writing has been published in Flash Fiction Magazine. Check out her website, FallonClark.com, or connect with her on LinkedIn or Substack.