It took not an inconsiderate application of willpower to not dance around my desk at the office yesterday. For the last two days, actual forward progression on my Work-In-Progress, a novel of ghostly cinematic horror, has been halted while I reverse engineer backstory. I had reached the point where mysteries laid out in the text and bedeviling the characters would begin to be understood and their origins revealed, but because I was ‘pantsing’ this story when I wrote those mysteries I did not actually have the answers and explanations in my head.

Now, I do.

The last two days have been working out from what is known and what has been hinted at, the full shape of the story, why it all exists in the manner that it does, and just what the scope of the dangers truly are. This isn’t entirely ‘pulled out of my ass.’ Some of this I suspected as I wrote the novel but other bits I knew I was leaving for future me to solve, and now present me is future me, and I am so happy with my solutions that dancing was nearly irresistible.

As is so often the case, once that clarity is obtained, a full understanding of not only character and plot but theme and subtext as well, a new and better first line came to me. I don’t need a whole new first scene but now I have the sentence that opens the novel: After the summer of 1984 Dave Ludendorff never again lived a charmed life.

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