There’s a particular kind of relief that washes over you when a story problem that’s been nagging at you for months suddenly clicks into place. After wrestling with my novel’s structure for what feels like forever, I finally figured out some semblance of a third act. The solution required a bit of literary cannibalism—I had to pillage another novel I’ve been working on to make it work—but sometimes that’s how the creative process goes. You raid your own vault of ideas, repurpose what serves the story, and somehow the pieces fall into alignment.
The Sprint to the Finish (Line of Draft One)
Now that I have a roadmap for where this story needs to go, I’m hoping I can zoom through the remaining pages of the third act with some strategic AI assistance. This isn’t about having a machine write my novel—it’s about using technology as a tool to maintain momentum during what I think of as the “vomit draft” phase. That first draft that exists purely to get the bones of the story down, the one that will never see another human being’s eyes in its current form.
Which brings me to an important distinction I want to make clear: I will refuse to use AI at all for the second draft. I may use it a little bit around the edges of the process—maybe for research or brainstorming—but I simply refuse to be someone who could be accused of using AI to write my actual novel. I will freely admit that I’ve used it for development and to write portions of this first draft, but the first draft is the vomit draft that no one will see. In my book, that’s no harm, no foul.
The Real Work Lies Ahead
The truth is, I have a lot—and I mean A LOT—of work to do going forward that will not include any AI assistance whatsoever. The heavy lifting of storytelling still belongs entirely to the human brain. I need to dig deep into character motivation, really understanding what drives each person in my story and why they make the choices they do. I have to nail down the specific timeframe of the events that take place in the novel, ensuring the pacing feels natural and the chronology serves the emotional arc of the story.
These are the elements that transform a functional plot into compelling fiction—the psychological depth, the careful attention to cause and effect, the way time itself becomes a character in the narrative. No algorithm can replicate the intuitive understanding a writer develops about their own characters, or the way seemingly small details can ripple through a story to create meaning.
The Pause Before the Real Writing Begins
For now, though, my singular focus is wrapping up this first draft as quickly as possible. I want to reach that magical moment when I can type “THE END” and then sit back, take a deep breath, and really reflect on what the second draft will entail.
That pause between drafts is crucial. It’s when you shift from the frantic energy of getting the story down to the more contemplative work of making it sing. It’s when you move from “What happens next?” to “What does this all mean?” From plot to purpose, from characters to character development, from scenes to the deeper architecture of storytelling.
The second draft is where the real novel lives. The first draft is just me figuring out what story I’m trying to tell. The second draft is where I actually tell it.

















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