The middle game

I sup­pose we all know what a mid-life cri­sis is. We’ve had our youth, and now, in our mid­dle years, we’re not so sure about all those deci­sions that brought us to where we are now. Worse, we have a sense of what the end game might be like, and we’re not sure we like it. Or per­haps we do like it but do not know how to reach it.

Per­haps I’m being a bit absurd here, but books often have a mid-life cri­sis, espe­cial­ly when you are writ­ing one. You had a great idea, con­cept, sit­u­a­tion, and you plunged right in, per­haps even with a sense (hope) of where you are going to wind up, and it looks—that ending—exciting.

But in nov­els as in life, it’s the mid­dle game where great­ness can, and should hap­pen. It’s in the mid­dle where char­ac­ters are defined, deep­ened, and the essen­tial con­flict, moral clash, or dilem­ma (you name it) real­ly come to life. And if you are going to cre­ate some­thing real­ly good, it is that mid­dle sec­tion where the hard work, the essence, must be con­sid­ered and created.

If you look at any fine nov­els (pick one), I bet you’ll find that it’s the mid­dle sec­tion where things got real­ly inter­est­ing. We tend to praise the open­ing “great open­ing line,” “great first chap­ter,” “great start.” And we will often talk about an “excit­ing end­ing,” or “sat­is­fy­ing fin­ish,” or even, “sur­pris­ing climax.”

But it’s the mid­dle of the book that will tru­ly define the qual­i­ty of the writ­ing. Any­one who has writ­ten a nov­el, and reach­es that mid­point, and sees the end­ing across the way—a long way off—will know what I’m writ­ing about.

It’s rare when I’m mid-point in a book that some pause and deep breath is not required before going on. Make the most of it. Your read­ers will thank you.