I stopped editing last night, once I convinced myself I’d put in every last detail that niggled at my mind.  I’m still on pins and needles, but nothing jumped out at me this morning, so slowly, I’m allowing myself to relax.

Now, more than ever, I’m a believer in outlining, simply because it saves time.   I wrote Contraband four years ago without an outline.  I’ve edited it too many times to count, and yet there were tiny details that I missed.

Over the years, I’ve thought about adding in bits and pieces, but who has time to write down every thought that comes to mind when they’re on the run?  Still, I breathed a relieved sigh every time I did think of something that had to go in, that I actually remembered to include.

Which brings me back to outlining, and why it works for me.  Time - a commodity I used to have in abundance - has dried up.  Maybe because I now work longer hours and watch too much CSI, NCIS and Law & Order, but the point is, I don’t have as much time to go round as I’d like.

That said, it’s clear as crystal that I must outline my projects properly to avoid wondering about missing pieces and where to go next.  While writing without an outline worked well for me in the past, it’s not working anymore.  Writing as the story comes to me makes me feel disorganized, and I tend to panic when nothing significant shakes loose from my mind after a brainstorming session.

My current project - the standalone sequel to Contraband - has a loose outline, but based on the complexity of the crime committed, I need to put some more into the how and why of it.  I’m gonna be honest and admit the next chapter is stuck because I don’t have a clue what the hero plans to do, especially since he doesn’t yet know his lady love’s been kidnapped.

But I digress.  I’ve listed below the items I’ve been thinking about adding to Contraband over time.  I only got them in at the last minute and that scared me, simply because the book is better with these details.  If I had left them out, a discerning reader would perhaps think I’d done a sloppy job.

Anyhow, here’s the stuff…

Family matters My main character (Paul) is a loner, who only has two male cousins to call family.  By the end of novel, Paul’s girlfriend is pregnant and he tells her with confidence that she’s gonna have twins boys, since they run in his family.

His prediction does become reality, so last night I went back to a conversation he had with his cousin (Vernon) early in the novel.  There, I inserted a howdy do for Vernon’s twin, who’s wife was also pregnant.  Vernon’s remark was that she was huge, and was probably having twins again.  A small detail I know, but it lends credence to Paul’s remark.  If I expect the reader to suspend belief to immerse himself in the story, I must lay the groundwork for that to happen.

Friends, How Many of Us Have Them? In this particular novel, my main characters don’t have a lot of friends.  Paul is self-contained, but he does have people who work for him with whom he’s close.  Now Janine is a different matter. I do mention her co-workers and family, but she doesn’t have friends that I know about. Unnatural right?

Thing is, in all the action that surrounds Paul and eventually extends to her, there isn’t much need for additional window dressing.  This forces me to think about myself.  I can’t point to a close girlfriend that I see all the time, share secrets with, that sort of stuff.  But I do have friends and family that I can call any day and it feels like the six-month-long interval between contact never happened.

Methinks Janine might not be so unnatural after all. Or so I hope.  Point is, I’ve improved on this with my other novels - people need other people.  As it is in life, so should it be in fiction to convey a sense of reality.

Miraculous Healings Before submission, I was careful to insert follow-up sentences to deal with Paul’s gunshot wounds to the stomach.  The agony he felt when he had to drive, sit up, and lie down.

The players in the novel also got knocked around a bit, went to hospital, and had bandages applied.  One day, it occurred to me that the bandages disappeared, but I made no mention of when they did.  Seemingly inconsequential details I agree, but for me, they fit like pieces of a puzzle to complete a picture.

It wasn’t hard to insert these floating bits afterward.  Paul removed a band-aid (and no I didn’t show or tell of him doing that) and I had Janine touch his forehead and ask if he was sure he should have removed it already.  Another small thing, I know, but I have a terrible time leaving the tiny things hanging.

Inserting Key Details Subtly The editor had some problems with the way I’d wrapped up the crime. She didn’t think it was done so as to satisfy her questions.  It became necessary to write in an entire scene and put additional touches on others.

Paul had to provide some contraband, along with money to rescue his woman from the kidnappers.  Based on the kidnapper’s demands, the family did not tell the police of the abduction.  However, information was leaked, and the police turned up at the point of exchange and cornered the criminals.

At the end of the book, Janine asks Paul if he’s sure he won’t be implicated for turning over drugs to the kidnappers.  He assures her that he won’t be connected to the drugs, and reminds himself that it pays to be thorough.  He’d instructed his staff to wear gloves while handling the weed, as well as the boxes, and he too wore gloves.

After that light bulb came on, I went back to the exchange scene and had him resist the urge to pull off the gloves (which I hadn’t yet put on him - yeah, you caught me).  He eventually took them off when he got Janine home to her family.

The information is planted subtly, so the reader probably won’t think about why Paul wears driving gloves that one time.  That’s pretty ordinary stuff.  But at the end, when he’s thinking, it becomes clear that this is how his mind works and why he’s successful at what he does.

When a character takes out a gun, he’s expected to use it. Paul does have a gun, takes it out when he feels threatened, but because of time constraints, he neglects to have target practice.  Eventually, he does have to carry the weapon, but by this time, the novel is winding down so I have him hope that he doesn’t have to use the firearm since he’s neglected to get that refresher course.

I know it’s another small thing, but it does give a sense of continuity and adds realism.  How many times have we intended to learn something new or upgrade our skills and then something happens to remind us that we should have gone and done it before the emergency situation now staring us in the face?  I’m sure you can relate to that.

Am I anal?  Maybe so.  But when I read a story, it’s not the obvious details that make the book a good read. The small things that fit together to form a cohesive whole leaves me satisfied on the last page.

What have I learned from this experiece?  Go back to outlining.  It’s makes novel writing a thousand percent easier for me.