Why you need a why (or your novel won’t survive November)
It’s 9:40 on a Tuesday night. The dishes are done, the lunches are packed, and your laptop is right there. Your novel is in a folder you haven’t opened since August.
You could write for twenty minutes. You could also fold laundry, answer one more work email, or scroll until you fall asleep. Most nights, the novel loses. Not because you don’t care about it, but because nothing in that moment tells you why it should win.
That’s what a why is for.
motivation is a great starter and a terrible finisher
Every novel starts with a spark. The idea shows up in the shower, you scribble three pages of notes, and for a week you can’t stop thinking about it.
Then week six arrives. The shiny idea has turned into a slog, the middle is foggy, and your kid gets the flu. Motivation was never built to last that long. It runs on novelty, and a novel stops being new long before it’s finished.
The writers who finish aren’t the ones who felt the most excited at the start. They’re the ones who knew why they were doing it on the days excitement didn’t show up.
what a real why actually does
“I like writing” is true. It’s also not enough. Liking something won’t get you out of bed at 5:30 a.m. or keep you at the keyboard when the scene isn’t working.
A real why does three jobs:
- It makes the decision for you. When the laptop and the laundry are competing, you don’t have to argue with yourself. You already decided.
- It gets you through the middle. Act two is where good drafts go to die. A why reminds you the book is worth the mess.
- It quiets the voice that says you’re not a real writer. You don’t have to feel talented to keep going. You just have to remember what you’re doing this for.
In my years producing television news, a story either made air time or it didn’t. Nobody felt inspired at 5:55 p.m. They finished because the story mattered and the clock was real. A novel needs both of those things too. Your why is the first one.
how to find yours in one sentence
Grab a pen and finish this sentence:
“I need to finish this book because…”
Then keep going past your first answer. The first one is usually the polite version. Ask “and why does that matter?” two more times. The third answer is usually the real one.
- Write the sentence fast. Don’t edit it.
- Ask “why does that matter?” and write the answer underneath.
- Ask it once more. Circle the line that makes your chest a little tight. That’s your why.
A few signs you’ve found it:
- It’s specific. “To prove something” is vague. “So my kids see me finish what I start” is a why.
- It’s yours. Not what a writer is supposed to say, but what’s actually true.
- It would still matter if the book never got published.
That last one is important. “Get a book deal” is a goal, not a why. Goals are out of your hands. A why only asks you to show up.
my why
I finished my first novel, Sara Storm: The Midnight Message, as a full-time working mom of two, with zero extra hours lying around. Here’s the sentence that got me through it:
“I need to finish this book because I promised my kids I would.”
I told my boys I’d write them a book that would help them understand environmental issues: why conservation matters, and why we have to work with nature, not against her.
It took me longer than I expected. A lot longer. But I had to finish, because the book was only half the lesson. The other half was letting them watch their mom finish a project she said she was going to finish, and not give up.
Here’s the funny part. By the time I typed “The End,” my oldest was too old for middle grade fiction. He still hasn’t read it. But he’s my biggest advocate, telling everyone about the book before I was even ready to share it.
That’s the thing about a real why. It doesn’t depend on how the book turns out. I didn’t finish so he’d read it. I finished so he’d see me finish.
But if I could do it over, I’d change one thing. My why kept me going, but it never told me when. If I’d given myself a real deadline, I would have finished before my son outgrew middle grade. A why gets you to keep going. A deadline gets you to the end. More on that Wednesday.
Now I’m drafting book two of the Pinecone Pathway series at 5 a.m., before the day gets away from me. Same sentence, taped to the same spot.
put it where you’ll trip over it
A why only works if you see it at the moment you’re deciding. Write it on a sticky note and put it on your laptop lid, your bathroom mirror, or your phone’s lock screen. Somewhere you’ll see it at 9:40 on a Tuesday night.
When you skip a day (you will), don’t reread your chapters to get back in. Reread your sentence. Then write one more page.
start monday
On Monday, October 19, I’m starting the 90-day writing reset on Instagram: three short Reels a week, small steps, real progress, no starting over. Day 1 is exactly this: find your why. Then on Wednesday, Day 3, we give that why a deadline, so your book doesn’t take as long as mine did.
Follow along at @novel.finish, and tell me your sentence in the comments. I’ll be reading every one.
And if you want the next steps after your why, the 5 Things guide walks you through the five things that quietly keep novels unfinished.