By Rick Eve

"No tears for the author, no tears for the reader."

This quote is often attributed to the great American poet, Robert Frost. That in itself is an inspiration for us writers to dig deep, to brave those icky emotions within ourselves.

Whether you’ve stuck the above reminder to the rim of your computer monitor, or you’ve already learned the lesson well, you’re done with writing the way you did four books ago.

The quote is occasionally expanded to "No surprise in the writer, no surprise in the reader."

Beyond the deep emotions we craft into the characters, we should be prepared for that moment when we, the author of this character’s life, exclaim to ourselves, “What the hell? Didn’t see that coming!”

Out of nowhere, you’ve experienced the story surprising the author. This is a good thing. It is not undiagnosed ADHD. This is not the red-chili burrito from lunch arguing with your intestines.

Suddenly, your fingers have followed the character down some path that wasn’t in the plan, not part of the original plot, and nowhere on the Save-the-Cat flowchart.

When Your Story Takes an Unexpected Turn

You could always just delete this wild idea, but you don’t. Instead, you wonder if this welcome surprise could become The Big Twist, and find a place in the story. Perhaps, it could expand this story-line into something more. Three pages in, and you sit back to consider how this could change everything. (And very likely, you’ll need to go back to the beginning to check for continuity issues that might arise from the unplanned plot-line.) And ten minutes later, you’ve finished an entire chapter that steers the plot into a hard left.

Here are three times my own stories completely surprised me.

Example #1: Discovering the Villain Wasn't the Villain

Three-quarters of the way into the book, the Victim and the Anti-hero/Protagonist are discussing why the murderous Villains could be so insanely homicidal. And to my surprise, a (then) secondary character reveals to them both that all of the Villains’ children are being poisoned, dying an excruciating death due to a cataclysmic ecological disaster. Yes, actually, the bad guys are just broken-hearted parents, doing what they can to save every child on their planet. To save their own species from extinction.

Well…shucks. That changes things. I mean, who wouldn’t do everything possible to save their child? And in a moment, the scope of the story tripled in size. The emotional presence sunk deep, making the highs so much higher.

Example #2: An Ending I Never Planned

In another book, about two-thirds in, a secondary character is bullying the Anti-hero, calling her out in front of the wide mirror in a crowded women’s restroom at a rock concert. Tearing her down. You furry-headed bimbo. Pretty? Maybe. But not quite pretty enough for him. Much later, I’m writing the very last chapter, downhill from the explosive climax, the Happily Ever After warming nicely in the reader’s heart. Almost done. Wrapping it up. And…Surprise!

The End. Nope. Not yet, you don’t. Anti-hero has a darker side, and it’s payback time.

In an entirely unplanned Extra Unhappy Ending, the Anti-hero has the Bathroom Bitch in a mental reverse hold. Our Anti-Hero creates a realm where the unlucky character is seated in a front of a French Provincial vanity, staring into the mirror, applying layer after layer of makeup, then scrubbing it off to start over. For all eternity. And when Bathroom Bitch has a rare moment of bravery, Anti-hero returns in person to remind her bully in the same evil whisper, “Not quite pretty enough.”

This surprise second ending above created a Big Twist which brought encouraging reviews for my top-selling YA SciFi.

Example #3: When the Villain's Baby Took Over the Story

My last example of being surprised while writing occurred when I was truly stuck. In the sequel, the plot required that the Villain (a cyborg) gets pregnant and gives birth. She did the former, and she’s in labor. Just in time for me to run out of story. Days go by with nothing typed, no ideas. Guess who arrives to save me. Yep, the baby. Still inside Mom, he’s already wide awake, learning quickly, and needs to take his first breath right now. But like me, he’s stuck and can’t get out. To his mother’s surprise (and mine) he literally claws his way out the front of her.

Well…damn. That hurt. And I’m now short one all-important villain. Even worse, he eats the nurse. Did I plan for that? No, I did not. Was that in the script? Did my story outline show ‘baby kills mom?’ No, and no.

And it was perfect.

Junior becomes a far more powerful and evil Villain than mom ever could, launching the last half of the story into an entirely new direction. Again, the story expanded beyond what I had originally hoped for. By the end of that writing day, there grew numerous new plot lines, memorable characters, more Big Twists, and opportunities for several more What the Hell moments for the reader.

Why I Didn't Delete the Scene

I could’ve written ‘baby rips his way out of mom’, and then deleted it. It’s gross and cruel.

However, I trusted the character knew what he was doing. I followed his line of reason, his psychopathic start to life. My concerns for this sequel turning out to be a sophomore effort vanished, as the story leapt onward from this one very unexpected moment. As for Cyborg Mom, I gave her a slight reprieve, allowing her consciousness to restart in another body. Though she was in no position to bother anyone, she became a window for the reader to glimpse new depths of evil on the horizon.

Trust the Story More Than the Outline

Typing away at Chapter Nine in what is now my eighth novel, I’ve got a long way to go. I do not have more than a cursory plot line. This is Book One of a planned five-book series, my first attempt at a character arc that must last for years. All I know is that I’m going to somehow kill off the main character in the second-to-last chapter of Book Four. Hopefully, she will have the decency to respect her Creator, and clue me in on just how the heck I’m supposed to bring her back for Book Five.

Final Thought: Surprise Me

Alright, young lady.

Surprise me.

Has one of your characters ever surprised you by taking the story in a direction you never planned? Tell us what happened in the comments.

About the Author

Rick Eve grew up in a family that read every SciFi book, watched every SciFi TV show, and attended every big-screen movie with aliens, space travel, or robots.

Mother loved to write, and Dad worked for a company that manufactured rockets and missiles. To write SciFi stories is just the natural progression, I believe.

With seven books to market now, there's a couple for Midgrade, a YA (my favorite), a hard-SciFi duology, and a SFF. The latest release is a Mystery with SciFi elements.

Born in Tucson, Arizona, he now resides just up the street in Marana. Married for thirty years, our youngest son is ready to move out on his own. A recent addition to the family is a little rescue mutt who alternates between naps and utter destruction. 

Photo by Alex Moliski on Unsplash

by Dr. Diana Stout

Without thinking about it, name your favorite go-to movie or book.

I bet it’s your favorite because of the main character. Because of the trials that character has to traverse, which make you cry, sigh, laugh, or have you holding your breath in anticipation. What makes them memorable?

I would guess that you either fell in love with them, could relate to their struggle, or admired their strength and ability to reach their goal despite the hardships; or, if they didn’t reach their goal, you respected their honor in their failing.

You felt emotional about this character. You felt like you knew them, or knew of their struggle because it was or is currently your struggle, too.

My favorite movie is Jane Austen’s Persuasion because I can relate to the struggle of the main character, Anne. She’s followed a life script others wanted for her (and still do), plus she spent her life trying to make everyone else happy. As a result, she never said no and doesn’t experience true happiness, until the end, when she finally says no and follows her own path.

Another go-to story for me is The Martian by Andrew Wier. An astronaut gets left on Mars after everyone believes he’s hit and blown away by debris and presumed dead. How could I relate to a survival story? Because he meets every dead-end problem straight on and finds solutions.

Why We Read Books and Go to the Movies

It’s no surprise we go to movies and read books to be entertained. Whether about surviving love lost, being lost, or feeling lost. But, it goes beyond entertainment. We want to know how they reach their goal after hitting rock bottom emotionally or physically. Or, how to survive toxic people or toxic situations. All stories fit into these broad classifications.

We love these characters because they overcome. Moving past situations or people, which in turn creates growth and inner joy.

One reviewer, writing about one of seven novellas in my Laurel Ridge romance series, said my characters felt real. “You can tell she's lived among her characters long enough to understand them yet still loves them enough to let them stumble. That blend of warmth and wit is rare. It's not just romance—it's restoration, the quiet work of forgiveness wrapped inside humor and longing.”

I felt their pain and laughed aloud at their antics. I wanted to run around with them and meet with them regularly. I wanted to party with them. I wanted our relationships to continue after the books’ publications. The characters were that real to me.

Have You Hurt Your Character Badly Enough?

To create a memorable character, they have to hurt emotionally and psychologically, to the point that their wound is exposed—to themself and to others in some form.

Exposing that wound represents danger. They’re afraid what others will think about them. That they could lose their job, the battle, their family, friends, everything important to them.

It’s that paralyzing fear of their wound being exposed that creates the conflict.

And, that’s what the Mirror Moment is about. This midpoint Mirror Moment occurs at the fifty percent mark and is the only major plot point where the flip comes from the character’s internal conflict—their wound and the lie they’ve been living. The other four major plot points (New Opportunity, Change of Plans, Major Setback, and Climax) deal with the external goal and external conflicts.

• For the first time, the character sees what they need to do, what they need to become. They recognize what they don’t want to be anymore. Oh, they still want to reach their original goal but not for the same reason as when they started. They’re realizing their morals matter more than their past behavior and beliefs.
• For the first time, they’re acknowledging the immense pain that’s been buried and being honest about themself. As much as they want that goal, they’re filled with doubt that they can reach it now. Confidence is at a new low. They can’t go back to what they used to be. That person doesn’t exist anymore. But, how can they go forward?
• The questions facing them in that mirror are: Can they become the person they want to be? Will anyone like them anymore? Will they fail?

This is where the audience's hearts are tugged. They’re strongly rooting for the character to succeed.

In Helping Others, They Sacrifice

From the Mirror Moment to the Climax, they try to become a better person. They try hard to change, but then they reach the Major Setback, that Do or Die moment, when they realize if they can’t save themselves, at least they can try to save everyone else. That’s the tieback to the Mirror Moment.

Without the Mirror Moment, that strong Major Setback and Climax can’t be reached. It’s about the internal change at the Mirror Moment that creates the external change of action, of behavior, that wins the day regardless of whether they succeed or fail. If they fail, they do so with honor, and that becomes a win. A strong win. A solid win.

That win—even in failure—is their crossover, their arc into becoming a better person.

How To Fix a Stalled Manuscript

What I’ve discovered from reviewing early manuscripts where I stopped at the sagging middle and by working with other writers suffering the same plight, is that in every situation the Major Setback or Climax plot point was sitting where the Mirror Moment should have been.

In essence, there was no Mirror Moment.

Moving the misplaced plot point forward to its proper place, opens up the entire second half of the second act and then some. I’ve seen it happen not only with my stories, but with the stories of writers and students I’ve coached.

Plot the Mirror Moment First

Now, whenever I start a new story, I immediately take the character’s goal and their wound and go to the Mirror Moment. This one plotting device works for pantsers, plotters, and planters alike.

• How does that wound affect their goal?
• How does their journey crash to rock bottom where the wound is totally exposed to this character as they look in the mirror, whether for real or a mental self-examination?
• Are the actions and decisions up to this point exposing the wound bit by bit?
• What must the character let go of in that mirror moment? What must they change internally, emotionally, and psychologically in order to do the right thing? To reach their goal, yet remain honorable?

The Big Shift

It’s not until the Major Setback that they fully acknowledge, there’s no saving the self anymore. It’s about saving everyone else or in coming clean. While it wasn’t fully expressed at the Mirror Moment, it’s fully expressed at the Major Setback, the entry into the final Act III.

That’s what the second part of the second act is all about—the journey toward the Major Setback.

It’s at the Major Setback where honor becomes more important than pride. Should they lose their goal, they’re willing to start anew, alone or with a team, and as someone willing to sacrifice.

From Ordinary to Extraordinary

We remember these characters because while they’re ordinary in the beginning, by the end of the story, they have become extraordinary. Memorable.

Their wound has been healed.

The best stories are where character wounds are deep and pushed down, hidden from view that even they don’t recognize that the wound has been driving their decisions until the day of the inciting incident, the day when their world first changes. The first time they’re facing their wound and quickly dismiss it.

Only at the Mirror Moment can they acknowledge the truth behind Inciting Incident and what it did but couldn’t name until now.

That’s how you prevent a sagging middle.

What has your experience with sagging middles been like? What is your favorite go-to story? What’s the underlying reason why it’s a favorite?

About Dr. Diana

She loves talking about writing, and she enjoys helping other writers. To that end, she’s created the Grammar and Punctuation Recuse Series. Short-read books: I Hate Commas Comma Book, and I Hate Helping Verbs are the first two books published, so far.

The second series, Finding Your Fire series, include Dr. Diana’s Toolkit to Better Writing, CPE: Characters, Plot, & Emotion, The 3 Secrets of Time Management and Eliminating Procrastination.

The author of Grendel’s Mother, a medieval story that gives voice to a famous character who was voiceless, Diana is a screenwriter, author, blogger, writing coach, and former university English professor of writing classes. An award-winning writer in multiple genres, one judge said, she’s "a writer to watch."

Earlier this year she published her first thriller, a split-time lake house story, Harbor House: Deadly Intentions. By the end of July, she will have published a second thriller, When the Walls Listen, and is publishing a third thriller, Buried Trash: A Shelby Hale Thriller, later this year.

To learn more, visit her website at sharpenedpencilsproductions.com.

Top image purchased from DepositPhotos.com

By Jaime Buckley

I want to tell you something I'm not proud of.

There was a point in my writing career where things were actually working. Books selling. An audience growing. A community of readers who showed up because they genuinely loved the story I was telling.

And I threw it away.

Not in one dramatic moment. Not because of a single bad decision. I threw it away slowly, quietly, one small compromise at a time...until the thing I was writing had almost nothing to do with why I started.

It took me years to understand what happened. Now I think it's one of the most important things a writer can know before they build an audience.

Because if you build one the wrong way, losing it is the best thing that can happen to you.

When the Money Showed Up

Let me back up.

I started writing because I had a story that wouldn't leave me alone.

A character.

A world.

Something I believed kids needed to read.

I wasn't chasing a career.

I wasn't thinking about platforms or algorithms or revenue streams.

I was just trying to get this thing out of my head and into the world.

And it worked.

Readers found me. Tens of thousands of them. I still don't entirely know how. I hadn't done anything clever. I just showed up and told the truth about a boy trying to figure out who he was...and apparently, a lot of people needed that story.

Then I started paying attention to what sold.

Not in an obvious way. I didn't sit down and say, "I'm going to sell out now." That's not how it happens.

It's quieter than that.

You notice what gets the most response. You nudge the next piece in that direction. You make decisions based on what the market seems to want, instead of what the story actually needs.

Before long...it wasn't my story anymore.

The Slow Drift

The hardest part about this kind of drift is that every individual decision seems reasonable.

Bring in a real person as a character...because it'll help sell more copies. Shift the tone here...because readers responded better to this. Change the arc there...because this is what the genre expects.

Each one makes sense in isolation.

Taken together, they add up to a betrayal.

Not of your readers.

Of yourself.

And your readers can feel it, even when they can't name it.

The comments thin out.

The energy shifts.

People who loved your early work start to drift away...and you can't figure out why, because you've been working harder than ever.

Here's why: they came for you. The real you. The honest, unpolished, slightly-weird-and-entirely-genuine you.

The moment you started optimizing, you started disappearing.

I'd sold around 24,000 copies of my first novel. It stayed in the top 20 of its category on Amazon for over three years.

Then I stopped telling the truth.

...and everything started to fall apart.

The Moment It Broke

I won't pretend I saw it coming.

I didn't.

A single person came into my life and told me I couldn't write.

He was calm about it.

Polite, even.

And I believed him.

Weeks later I still couldn't take a full breath without pressure on my chest.

It still hurts to say this out loud…but I pulled everything I'd written offline. Books. Blog posts. Short stories. A decade of work...gone. Because one man's opinion confirmed the fear I'd been carrying for years.

Here's what I know now that I didn't know then.

I was already weakened.

Let me say this again, and listen carefully:

I had already done the damage to myself, slowly, over time.

The slow drift away from truth had left me hollow. I didn't have anything solid to stand on, because I'd spent years building on sand. Chasing what sold, what performed, what pleased...instead of what was real.

The real, original story I'd planned back in 1990.

When you write from truth, criticism lands differently. Sure, it might sting…but it doesn't shatter you, because you know what you made is real. You were there. You put something honest into the world.

When you write for performance...one bad review can take the whole thing down. Because deep down, you already knew it wasn't quite true.

What Truth Actually Costs

Here's the thing nobody tells you about writing honestly.

It's slower.

You can't just produce content. You have to sit with things. You have to be willing to write the part that makes you uncomfortable, not just the part that makes you look good. You have to trust that the reader will meet you there.

That takes patience. And it takes a platform that rewards depth over volume.

That's why Substack changed things for me.

Not because it's magic. Not because it solved the drift problem automatically. But because the model itself asks you to build a direct relationship with real readers who chose to show up for you specifically.

Not an algorithm.

Not a trending topic.

You.

That kind of accountability is uncomfortable...and it's exactly what I needed. It's harder to drift into performance when the person reading your work knows your name and pays for a subscription because they trust your voice.

It keeps you honest.

Start With the True Thing

If you're building a writing practice right now...or trying to rebuild one...here's the only advice that actually helped me.

Start with the true thing.

That's it.

Not the marketable thing.

Not the thing you think people want.

Not the version of you that's been sanded down and optimized for engagement.

The thing that's been sitting in you, a little uncomfortable, that you haven't said yet because you weren't sure anyone needed to hear it.

That's the one.

Write that. Publish that.

Let the readers who need it find it.

The audience you build from that place is durable. They're not there for the trend or the topic or the packaging. They're there because you told them something true...and they recognized themselves in it.

That's the only kind of audience worth having.

The true thing is waiting to be written.

What is your one true thing?

If you want help building your audience, that's exactly what we work on inside Substack for Authors. How to set up your publication the right way, so you can find your true voice, build the right audience, and create a writing practice that doesn't ask you to disappear in the process.

Come find us.

About Jaime

Jaime Buckley is the author of the Chronicles of a Hero series and the founder of LifeofFiction.com on Substack. He teaches writers how to build a sustainable publishing practice at JaimeBuckley.com and through the online course Substack for Authors.

Featured image purchased from DepositPhotos.