Writing a novel is often like driving by headlights at night. You can’t see the whole journey, you can’t see beyond the immediate throw of the lights; but you can get to the destination.
It goes against the notion of the author in full control, with the full picture and the entire world of the story mapped out before they begin. How many authors craft their novels that way?
The full quote from Author E.L. Doctorow (Ragtime) goes:
‘Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.’
If it’s good enough for Doctorow, then it’s good enough for me.
Under the Lights
It’s the antidote to obsessive outlining or plotting. You don’t have to see the destination, perhaps you don’t yet know the destination when you begin. You don’t have to stop at every landmark along the way. You don’t have to know the county or country you’re driving through. As long as you can see enough of the road ahead not to crash, you keep driving.
The journey will take in whatever the beams of the headlights illuminate. Perhaps there’s a detour or two, but the journey continues. It may not be a fully immersive study of every town, village or gas station en route. Vast swathes of the landscape and culture will never be illuminated; we may have no idea they exist. But the journey continues.
Our favourite example? Pride and Prejudice completely ignores the Napoleonic wars, political turmoil; the working class. Austen turns the headlights on Lizzie Bennett, Mr Darcy and the family and friends in the light of the beams. Let’s think of carriage lights over car headlights. Some of the characters on the periphery are barely illuminated and we quickly pass by. There’s little of Regency England beyond Netherfield, Longbourne and Merton, until Lizzie’s roadtrips to Rosings and Pemberley. And we see nothing of those routes from the carriage windows.
It’s a thin metaphor, but the idea of the car headlights relieves the pressure on the author to plan and research everything in minute detail.
Ribbon Development
My fantasy world exists in thin ribbons beside the road. Books one and two are actual road trips. We get reports of goings-on in the wider Empire, but the focus is on the road ahead. Plus the pursuit in the rear-view. Book three takes place in the capitol, but other than an extreme wide shot at the beginning, we only see that Jo sees on her way around town. The full political picture? Beyond her. The workings of the timber swing bridge? Hidden beneath the road. The guards and gates she needs to infiltrate? Right there in the stark white glare of headlights.
Driving by headlights means you can write to the end. It may not be the best route, but you can drive non-stop to the finish. The diary of the journey may need some work, but that’s what editing is for.