The Science of Finishing: Why Do So Many Novels Die Drafty?

One of the biggest hurdles that starting scientists and writers share is finishing their projects. Why is that?

I’m back from hiatus!

And yes — as the title teases — there’s a new novel as a result.

Fully drafted, proofread, and off to my agent and a few more beta readers.

It’s a romantic fantasy comedy (think Princess Bride over Urban Fantasy). There’s a bit of satire (well, maybe a lot), fairytale-themed subversion, and hopefully a protagonist everyone will love when you all get a chance to meet her.

Here’s the real kicker though: I wrote it in a month.

No, the first draft wasn’t perfect, and I spent two weeks revising. It’s still out with a few beta readers and I may make a few more small strategic changes before it ‘goes out, goes out’. And, as many writing challenges are, it’s a bit more complicated than ‘I wrote a novel in a month’. There was planning, the added incentive of friendly challenge and accountability, and even some apprehension — could I do it, and would it be any good?

But it struck me while I was in the thick of the challenge (about the time my brain was trying to revolt against the punishing pace) that it occurred to me that a lot of my feelings were déjà vu. I’d been here before. When? While trying to work through my laboratory experiments and complete my PhD thesis. It struck me that it wasn’t so much the act of getting things down on paper (computer screen) that was the pain point but seeing where the ending should be and making sure I got there.

I’m not claiming that I have a secret method (I don’t), or that this particular method will work for you (it might for one project but not another) but I think I learned a few useful things about my own tendencies and how I get to a finish point. Hopefully you can adapt something in here to make it work for a project you want to finish.

What the Hell Did I get Myself Into?

I have a friend who has been at the writing game longer than I have and subjectively (meaning measurably) very successful at it. They’d mentioned a challenge that they’d used to write a whole slew of novels in a year, many of which had sold. The interesting part was that they’d written them all in a month.

For those of you not in the writing game, many a novel dies mid draft. So, when they’d mentioned they were planning on doing it again, the scientist in me couldn’t resist. Clearly their method worked (I like trying new things that might work for me!), I was intrigued (novels usually take me a few months at my fastest) and a bit of a challenge is great for the brain.

The Process

The rules (if you can call them rules) were simple:

1. Write a chapter a day.

2. Hand it to the other person at the end of the day.

3. Read other person’s work, give feedback.

4. Do it all over until ‘book’.

How Did I Do?

There were a couple days where things just did not come together. Life got in the way so it took me into the wee hours (or next day) to get my chapter finished. Though I was close to a novel right on July 31st, in reality I think I finished the epilogue about the 1stor 2nd of August. Overall, I did pretty great.

I should disclose that I did not sit down on with blank slate. The project I picked already had a very detailed outline I’d been mulling since December. Starting from scratch, in my opinion, would have led to a novel but one that perhaps spent the month finding itself and needed more structural revision.

What Did I Learn?

First off, outlines are not my enemy. I’ve always avoided outlines worried they’d stifle my creativity and prevent me from finding interesting solutions to plot problems. It didn’t. If anything, it really helped keep me on target and task. Restraining yourself can be another avenue to discovering creativity.

Also, I like the momentum and challenge of forcing myself to finish something every day. A lot of times, authors almost finish a chapter…but then we get busy, leave it alone…a few days later when we come back to it (even the next day) it’s hard to remember how we wanted that thought or moment in the book to finish. Forcing myself to finish the thought meant there were no loose creative threads.

How Did it Feel to Write Every Day?

(AKA — Brain to Kristi: F-You)

Brain to Kristi - this isn’t what I signed up for…

Inherently, I’m a lazy person. Deep down most of us are to some extent. However, I know I’m lazy, that it’s not good for me, so I’m therefore used to making myself do uncomfortable things for my overall good (going to the gym in the am before I can question my life choices, reading instead of watching TV, getting to bed earlier instead of falling asleep on the couch, trying new, hard things — like this!).

For those of you who’ve ever tried a writing intensive, it’s a marathon on the brain. By about day 3 my neurons were revolting. They did not want to work past 1pm, thank you very much. Come on, Kristi — you put 5 hours in already! Let’s go for a walk, do some other work, play a video game, and call it a day!

Tough titties. I had a chapter to finish.

By about mid-month, my brain had given up its efforts to sway me to the sweet sensation of doing jack all. Reluctantly, it continued to spew out ideas and prose as I worked through my chapters, and by the end of the month, I barely noticed it at all.

It Was Probably Really Good for Me

Pushing through tricky experiments back during my PhD felt eerily similar to the first week. Why? Well, when an answer doesn’t come easily enough (in story mechanics or when my laboratory flies didn’t ‘genetics’ the way I wanted or expected them to), my brain had to go into overtime figuring out why and how to fix it. In a plotting/writing sense, pushing forward past a pain point requires new neural pathways and lateral thinking. It’s brain work.

My brain wanted a break.

But there’s an uncanny efficiency our brains can manage when we say no to the break (despite the pushback) when there’s a deadline to meet. Chapters due, lab result presentations…

I had to come up with something and my brain did not have an exit ramp, so…

There’s also something to be said for taking away the excuses.

We’re good at excuses. Really good.

I have to pick my kid up. I feel awful. Work needs me.

We all have many commitments. Life is complicated.

And trying something new? That adds to the difficulty. It’s often easier to quit than deal with the added stress and emotions around the idea that we might not be able finish, or that even if we do it might not be good. That’s terrifying.

But there’s also something really empowering in finishing. Character arcs, act structure, punctuation — you can’t fix a novel that only lives in your grey matter.

Whether you’re writing a story a day, a novel in a month, making a piece of art, learning a new instrument, composing a letter a day to your friends, or even going to the gym — the act of sticking with something for a month I think is incredibly valuable.

Who knows? You might discover unlocked talents in your brain to hone and at worst, you’ll prove you can finish.

For those of you looking to try this out in a writing sense but not wanting to commit to a novel, there are a couple ways to test yourself and give your brain a workout:

Want to test your brain against a writing challenge? Ideas for different levels are below.

Bantam Weight: Years ago, a creative writing instructor of mine at Vancouver Community College had us write for an hour a day. That was it, the bar to entry was one hour. For a beginner, it’s just the right starting point.

Middle Weight: If you’re already used to writing daily, I’d recommend a greater challenge than an hour or two a day but roping in structure (something I didn’t really think about until later in my career). I’d try plotting out your novel (aiming for 60 pages and up), plotting out a chapter each day and making sure the scenes are laid out. It will give you a full, fleshed out outline at the end (in case you want to try writing in a month), and will force you to look at the structure and whether the ideas need to be molded a bit. There was a lot of problem solving I discovered during my outlining stage, things I’d never have noticed until much later.

Heavy Weight: So you’re going to write a novel? Give yourself some structural and word count goals. It will help things from meandering. Also find a buddy – it will help keep your brain accountable. Other than that, God speed!

The Science of Sci-Fi: Cloning... and our Boundless Hypocrisy

Today let’s look at the wonderful world of genetic engineering, the super cool things we can do, and how all of us have the capacity for hypocrisy – an all too human trait.

I made a promise last week to rope penguins into my musings (in solidarity with the poor nation of penguins having to deal with tariffs), and boy did the universe deliver! Resurrection, cloning, cute, fuzzy animals – it’s all my writing calling cards rolled into one.

I want to tell you about an amazing species of penguin. The colossus penguin, Palaeeudyptes klekowskii. This amazing 7 foot tall bird (that’s taller than you) flourished approximately 60-34 million years ago, and – fun fact– the reason they flourished was due to the extinction of the giant aquatic reptiles that previously preyed on their flightless evolutionary ancestors. The lived on Antarctica and (absolutely unfortunately) went extinct 34-27 million years ago as well.

Just think about that. A penguin as big as an ostrich or emu. I feel we got shafted in the giant bird stage – what a shame there are no longer giant penguins roaming the earth, no, make that we deserve giant penguins to be resurrected.

Again, my sales pitch. This. In your yard, chasing away racoons from the trashcans. You know you want one too.

I want one. They’re cute, giant, probably not cuddly but I can dream. They would definitely chase the raccoons out of the front yard and might even take on the moose and elk that occasionally plague Canadian gardens.

And, if this (admittedly ridiculous) line of reasoning doesn’t ring any recent news headlines of the artic, dire variety, well, let’s talk about why it absolutely should.

No, they didn’t clone anything. Yes, it’s super cool. Hypocritical? You bet!

Sometimes simplifying science does a world of bad. Yes, the dire wolf puppies are extremely cool, definitely adorable, and probably going to grow to a terrifying size. The way they did it is super cool. Dire wolves are a recent extinction (along with Dodos, Aurochs – the terrifying ancestors of modern cows, sabretooth tigers, and mammoths), and – unlike the resurrected dinos in Jurassic Park – they had some temporal overlap with us. It’s not unthinkable that the rise of our species (along with the end of the ice age and other factors outside of our – at the time – cave dwelling control) contributed to their extinction.

No, it’s not a dire wolf. It’s a bespoke, genetically modified grey wolf. That doesn’t mean it’s not cool or a major scientific feat, but let’s call a spade a spade.

Resurrecting these kinds of extinct creatures feels noble, like a technological penance for our perceived ancient and modern wrongs. It’s a good thing.

No doubt about it, this is a vanity project. We’re not repairing anything.

So, what are these new dire wolves then? In simplest terms they’re genetically modified grey wolves but cleverly done. Because dire wolves went extinct recently (10,000 years ago), we occasionally come across well preserved specimens in permafrost. The cells are destroyed – ice crystals long ago ruptured the delicate cell membranes holding them together – but it’s possible to sequence the ancient DNA, understand exactly where the dire wolves and modern grey wolf diverged and… only change those parts.

Now, what the company who made these dire wolves wants you to think is that by changing those very specific genes they hit undo on the grey wolf draft, leaving the dire wolf in it’s place. The cool part is that by changing some of those genes, they get features that are more inline with a dire wolf than a grey wolf – which is cool. This kind of gene editing has huge implications to species that are on the endangered list. Imagine if we could introduce genetic variation into a population that really needs it – like a cheetah? That’s some targeted conservation.

But the dire wolves aren’t that. They’re genetically modified organism (the thing that you possibly eschew in the grocery store?), because there’s more that goes into what defines a species than the code – DNA architecture, imprinting, methylation, developmental cues from the egg or womb – all those things can drastically change gene expression.

But as a writer – and this is where I hope you take your science writing prompts from – I wan to give you a more tangible and horrifying example to put into more accurate perspective what they’ve really done.

Grey wolves are 95% genetically identical to a dire wolf. 5% is a huge gulf. You know what species are closer on the evolutionary sibling scale?

Humans and chimpanzees.

Chimpanzees and humans share 98.8% of our DNA. If they can make a Grey Wolf out of a dire wolf, imagine what we could do with the other great apes.

Our DNA is 98.8% identical to chimpanzees. Picture a world a million years in the future, where perhaps we’re extinct but chimps are still around. If visitors from afar landed on Earth and decided they’d like to see what the technologically advanced extinct ape looked like (us) they could theoretically take a chimp embryo and make some targeted edits. I mean, it’s only 1% percent. We know 5% is feasible…

Would that chimpanzee be a human? It would be more human-like for certain compared to other chimpanzees, but it would be a genetically modified chimpanzee (or gorilla, or orangutan) – would it be a strange hybrid, neither species really but a combination of both? I don’t know – but rest assured, as has been demonstrated in the news, we now have the technological ability to find out.

There is of course an even more impressive direction to go with this – Neanderthals. We share 98-99% of our DNA with our extinct cousins. We mostly think that they went extinct due to a degradation of Y chromosomes. We could clearly fix that now. I wonder that we’re so keen on dire wolves, mammoths, and dodos, but no one’s brought up the other recently extinct species that we’re in part responsible for – our genetic neanderthal cousin.

We have DNA samples; we know the genome. We could theoretically do exactly what was done with wolves for our eradicated sibling on the evolutionary tree. If genetically modifying a human embryo isn’t to your taste, why not use chimpanzee? It’s just as similar. Why no talk of the resurrection of our close cousin?

Don’t kid yourself.If we can do it with a dire wolf, a neanderthal is within our capabilities.We’re in part responsible for their recent extinction. So why a mammoth and not them?

We can come up with excuses – experimentation on a higher species, ethics, etc – but the real reason is hypocrisy. The neanderthal deserves no less of our attention than the dire wolf, but that would be uncomfortable. We like to extinct things that compete with us, we just don’t like the reflection in the mirror.

No what we want is a novel zoo dressed up as conservation. Which is what these are.

That doesn’t mean it isn’t cool, it also doesn’t mean it’s evil or doesn’t have amazing scientific merit – but let’s call it what it is. Genetically modifying organisms for vanity, the novelty. Who doesn’t want to visit a zoo with species we only see in textbooks and CGI rendering? Part of me still desperately wants my very own 7ft guard penguin.

If that doesn’t get you writing, I don’t know what will.

Next Week…

I swear to the gods that I have (at least) one book to be announced soon. We’re aiming for a summer 2026 publication date, it is traditionally published, and I’m currently referring to it as my SUPER SECRET SCI-FI. It is cowritten with the master of swashbuckling fantasy himself, Sebastien de Castell.

Next week I’ll be tacking The Science of Procedurals and why what you should really be focussing on is the outliers, not the usual.

Though I don’t have a preorder link to send you yet, if you liked this article consider subscribing, sharing with friends if you feel like it, or – if you’re greatly inspired – you can even buy me a virtual coffee (coming soon).

The Science of Mystery: Building a Better Crime Scene

Writing a murder mystery perhaps? If you haven’t heard of the mighty slime mold, consider yourself introduced!

I’m always on the lookout for cool things that tell a story. Factoids that expose a greater truth about the human condition, sardonic, sincere, or otherwise.

The slime mold caught my attention recently for exactly that reason.

What are slime molds?

Think you can find the best route between two places? Be more like a slime mold, and don’t think about it so much.

The slime mold is a unique, evolutionary branch of life on Earth. It is not a fungus like the name suggests, but a protist, which means it’s a eukaryote (like us with organelles) and – for the most part – are single-celled organisms. They are not an animal, a plant, a fungus, or a bacteria. They form their very own, cool, Earth-evolved class of life!

Why are you disproportionately excited about this, Kristi?

Because slime molds break an important protist rules – despite being a singe-celled group, some slime molds can form a a multicellular-like body that resembles a slug (plasmodium body). Technically it’s multinucleate, which means this cool slug is one giant cell… just with lots of clones shoved inside.

It’s brainless. Literally. No neurons, no higher organization. It’s a giant amoeba, a multi-personality protist masquerading as a slug. Did I mention it moves? Travelling at speed of up to 1.35 mm/second.

It also is a a better problem solver than you, or me. Make that all of us.

The Problem Solving Savant

Who could solve the puzzle cube in the fewest steps? My money is on the slime mold.

Network optimization is the name of the slime mold’s game. When in its slug body stage (which can get very big - up to 20 kilos and as large as a square metre), it has an uncanny ability to navigate complex environments, and find the most optimal path to say, a source of food (important decomposer), or to a more ideal environment. Sans brain.

For the most part, slime molds do this through biochemical signalling through the cytoplasm. They take in information from their surroundings (a signal that there is food or a location is getting too dry) and the cytoplasm reacts, contracting and propelling itself towards or away. The interesting part is that (perhaps because there is no brain to think and clog up the work) the slime mold is constantly and intuitively reacting to the environment as things change on a biochemical level. A change in the concentration of signal or direction? It changes course. Constantly, a the speed of biochemistry. The result researchers have found is that the path these slime molds take towards their object of desire its about the most optimal you could devise.

Coming to a crime scene near you, the mighty slime mold!

That’s cool.

What Does it Have to do With Mystery and Building Crime Scenes?

When investigators look at a crime scene, they’re ‘thinking’ about how a perpetrator might have set things up. The lesson from slime molds is that our ‘thinking parts’ might not always be our best friend. On two levels – how evidence came to lay where it is and how someone might have carried out a crime – we could be over thinking things. And it has researchers attempting to use slime molds (in models. They aren’t being released into crime scenes; that’s firmly sci-fi on the genre scale – but also cool) in models to check their work, improve forensic investigation strategies, and learn how to better search crime scenes.

Mystery? Meet Science Fiction, You’re New Best Friend!

How would I use the mighty-slime mold in a story? Off the top of my head, I’d use it to illustrate how forensics is an evolving area of research. Shows often like to make the forensic science seem bullet proof but as a result they gloss over everything we don’t know. I’d maybe have a forensic student, an assistant (also a ju—jitsu enthusiast - those folks LOVE slime molds for obvious reasons), visit our investigators crime scene and explain how the visually obvious assumptions are, well, wrong on a biological scale. It make for a more innovative approach to the ‘how’ of a murder or theft, and I think there’s real advantage to bringing a reader into the nuts and bolts of how scientists figure these things out. I’d also be inclined to use it as a group of side plot podcasters, convinced they’ve figured out a way to use slime molds to prove their own theories about a decades old crime, inject themselves into a cold case, but the world is your slime mold!

Next week, in solidarity with the penguins who’ve been dragged into a trade war, I’ll figure out a way to feature these cool critters!

Next week? I think I’m going to have to rope penguins into the subject. Those poor penguins didn’t deserve to be brought into an international Tarif war. The deserve better, gosh darn it!

The Science of Competence (AKA: Dunning-Kruger)

You know when it looks so easy that you’re convinced you could do it on the first try? You may be in the first stages of a Dunning-Kruger experience.

I had absolutely every intention of posting all about slime molds this week – how we should all be incorporating them into our murder investigations because they are that cool.

Instead, current events (coordinating military strikes over group chats anyone?) demand that I spend my time going over the science of competence. Do you happen to be designing a character who needs a flawed expertise that’s convincing? You’ve come to the right place.

The Science of Dunning-Kruger (DK): When we’re so dumb we’re convinced we’re a genius.

Recently tried something new and think you’re a genius at it? Maybe, but you could be experiencing the Dunning-Kruger effect.

By now, everyone on the planet pretty well knows about the military strike on Yemen that the USA used an unsecured ‘group chat’ to coordinate their battle plans through (apparently complete with emojis too!). There’s certainly some mud on people’s face, but could we be looking at some good ol’ Dunning-Kruger (DK) in real time?.

The DK phenomenon (named after psychologists David Dunning and Justin Kruger) was coined in 1999, and what it describes in simplest terms is a cognitive bias. The researchers noticed that there was a tendency for people with low competence in a particular area (note: not low intelligence) to… overestimate their abilities. A LOT. Think of when you watch an Olympic event, like skating. The figure skaters make it look so darn easy that someone sitting in an armchair all of a sudden becomes, well, an expert. Or even an instance where you’ve maybe begun a new hobby (like writing a novel) and start off thinking that this is a piece of cake! What are all these writers complaining about? You’ll be on the NYT list in no time!

I mean, they make it look so darn easy. How hard could it really be?

Though we all like to giggle at a fictional character (or politician) who’s convinced they’re good at something when they aren’t, there is a serious and dark flip side to the DK coin; that people with HIGH competence may UNDERESTIMATE their relative expertise.

Authors and female CEOs often talk about experiencing imposter syndrome; the overpowering sense that they aren’t as qualified as they really are. That can be catastrophic in the real world and fiction. Where someone who doesn’t understand a concept (like, say measles and herd immunity) but is convinced they know best confidently speaks over the scientists in the room who may start to ask themselves, ‘is there something they know I don’t’?

Confidence does not a doctor make. I’d rather have the person who spent 4 years in med school and admits they don’t know everything helping make my medical choices, not the one who ‘read a really cool article’ over the weekend.

The third aspect of Dunning-Kruger is metacognition, your ‘thinking’ abilities. It’s essentially your inclination to asses and challenge your own assumptions about your skill. For example, a few weeks ago I got on a pair of ice skates after years, falsely assuming that I’d be able to skate just like when I was a kid.

I was woefully wrong.

I reassessed my assumptions about my skill and as a result signed up for adult skating lessons.

Now, it was relatively easy to asses that I was wrong about my skating skills. I could not complete my task (skating to the centre of the rink… or anywhere). But there are other topics and areas – politics, military planning, espionage – where assessing whether you’ve been successful is…trickier, nebulous. I’m of the opinion that this is where Dunning-Kruger becomes outright dangerous, when the most confident person in the room who’s convinced everyone they’re an expert… has no meaningful way to assess whether they’re really any good at it.
How does all this fit into story and writing? Well, side characters, main characters, villains – when you’re designing believable people, keeping in mind that the one who is the most certain they’re right may not be capable of knowing how woefully wrong they are, can certainly help throw a wrench in a murder mystery turn around, or in a political thriller.

Also, that for characters to grow believably (like we do in RL), the pursuit of life-long learning, seeking out feedback, and reassessment are priceless traits. Oh, and a little humility goes a long way too.

Just wait! You’ll see me on the NYT bestseller list in no time!

TL;DR Dunning Kruger

1. Overestimation of ability by someone who is not particularly skilled.

2. Underestimation by highly skilled individuals. Perhaps less likely to correct those who keep shouting how right they are? Perhaps there’s something they don’t know?

3. That same low competence individual who grades themselves highly lacks the metacognitive (thinking) skills necessary to accurately assess their own abilities.

4. As skill goes up, confidence goes down (theoretically) as one becomes aware of their limitations, and (gradually) increases again with genuine skill development.