Writing Good Fiction: How to Balance Passion and Purpose
Logic and emotion.
These two elements are vital to a good narrative. But when do they show up? How do you get them to work for you rather than against you? Wading through this first draft of a fictional story, I’ve had to wrestle with each hemisphere of my brain in turn. The process can feel like hitting the gas and brakes at the same time. I’m learning when to accelerate, when to slow down, and when to coast.
Integrating raw emotion and logical sequencing can be like trying to mix water and oil. How can you liberate your imagination while keeping it restrained by a set of guidelines? How can you create a story that makes logical sense without losing the passionate energy that inspired it in the first place?
Let’s see if I’ve learned anything so far.
The Challenge of Embracing Passion in Writing
As much as culture claims to value passion, I think there are some unspoken rules or expectations. Culture appreciates passion when it has already produced results. Without results, passion can be condemned as reckless and irresponsible.
Unbridled passion can look impulsive and frivolous, suggesting immaturity and foolishness. Excitement and energy that were so accessible as a child now come attached to guilt, “reality checks,” and regulations. Responsible adults ought to leave unfettered imagination and dreaming to children and get on with their boring lives.
I think this is where I’ve been getting hung up. I invariably hit a snag (or several) when I try to set my passionate imagination loose. It’s begging to be set free, but something in the back of my mind keeps pumping the brakes.
This entire endeavor of writing a novel in my spare time feels like reconnecting with child-like reckless abandon and wonder, and there’s a part of me that’s embarrassed to do so. I can feel pressured to hide my playfulness and enthusiasm. I’m an adult, and it’s time to get serious.
This passion, however, is absolutely vital to creating a living, breathing story. It is the heartbeat. It is the lifeforce. Overcoming the influences that call for the tempering of passion in favor of “responsibility” sounds like a worthwhile venture to me.
When Logic Brain Speaks Too Loudly: Trying to Follow All the Writing Rules
In his blog, Dr. Randy Ingermanson asserts that analysis is the opposite of creation. If I’m letting my analytical brain show up too strongly, I’ll never be able to write a scene that evokes a powerful emotional experience. If I’m too preoccupied with the “rules” of writing, I’ll cripple my story before it even reaches the page.
But I can’t ignore logic. A good story has to make sense. A plot is literally a logical flow from the current situation to an intended goal or outcome. As a reader, I want to grasp the story’s meaning and purpose. For a story to feel alive, it also has to be logical. It must be tethered to something in reality—something relatable—otherwise, the reader won’t be able to connect emotionally to it.
If I over-emphasize logic, however, the story will feel contrived and pulseless.
Fire and Ice: The Paradox of Logic and Passion in Writing
Writing fiction is serious business. It’s also wild fun.
To be a good writer, I’m finding you need to be both a passionate optimist and a grounded realist. A good story is comprised of both passion and purpose. The writing process itself requires the same. Finding ways to integrate these paradoxical qualities without them cancelling each other out has been one of my greatest challenges so far.
In previous posts, I’ve discussed pantsing and plotting—essentially, creative passion and logical reasoning, respectively. I’m seeing that the best way to balance these approaches is by pendulating between them. I might need a day to punch the gas, let my imagination take me on an adventure. Then, I can take a look at the passionate (albeit disorganized) scene I created and shape it so it makes sense.
Finding a Healthy Brain Balance in the First Draft
The first draft feels tenuous, like I must perfectly implement plot and emotional experience at each step simultaneously, or I’m doing it wrong. I’m figuring this writing stuff out day by day, mostly through trial-and-error. I’ve discovered that forcing myself to write from the heart when I’m more concerned about how the plot points are connecting so far doesn’t work. It also doesn’t work to try to sequence out scenes in the perfect order when I’m feeling more imaginative.
Maybe the trick is to allow space for both sides of my brain when and where they show up stronger. Just because I use visceral emotion to write a nonsensical scene one day doesn’t mean I can’t clean it up and make it presentable another day.
Maintaining Passion for the Logical Long Haul
I’m reminded of running. Sprinting around a track requires fervor over a short period. A marathon requires a quieter tenacity. Writing a novel can be acutely exciting, but it requires sustainable habits. I’ve likened writing a novel to a marathon, but I think there are times of sprinting mixed in. Just because the overall process is more like a marathon doesn’t mean I disallow myself to sprint when I’m so inclined. To succeed as a writer, one must balance the sprint days, the long-distance days, and the recovery days.
A Very Logical Conclusion
Stories are all about emotions. I recently read this line in a blog: “Perfection in writing comes when you have created the fullest possible emotional experience for your reader.” I couldn’t agree more. What inspired me to write a novel was my own emotional experiences while reading fiction. Reflecting on this initial spark helps me take the next step forward, even when my mind is a torrent of doubt and distractibility.
I’m committed to keeping this writing journey fun and purposeful. The hope of someday facilitating an impactful emotional experience in readers is so very exhilarating to me. Being flexible and adapting to my personal proclivities as a writer is a strategy I want to continue so I can convert this dream into reality.
Thanks for being here and bearing witness to my struggles.
