Dear Friends:
Not every scene survives the journey from first draft to finished novel.
When I began shaping Son of the Borderlands into its final form, I worked with my coach, Jen Braaksma (jenbraaksma.com) to apply a structure called the “inside out”-line. The idea is simple but powerful—every scene must lead to the next. What happens? Why does it happen? What changes because of it? If the answer to the latter two is “nothing,” then no matter how well-written, the scene doesn’t belong. No part exists just to look pretty.
It’s not unlike my day job, where I’ve been 40 slide presentations that get trimmed to 10. But the rest are not wasted, even if no one sees them. They informed my learning process for the 10 that mattered, and some might serve as “backup” in case of questions.
So what didn’t make the cut? Without giving much away, here are three examples, and why they matter.
1. The grand summary that paused the story. Originally, I placed a chapter between the Prologue and Chapter 1, a dialogue that recounts Agni’s rise to power. It spanned twenty years, from the call to the Ancient City to his present-day command. It was vivid, heroic, and painted Agni’s rise from abused boy to imperial hero.
The problem? It told rather than showed.
It also stalled the momentum when the story needed to leap forward. So I pulled it, and instead wove Agni’s past through the book in moments where it mattered: a conversation, a memory, a sideways glance. You see how others treat him, and how he acts when no one is watching.
2. The training ground that instilled the wrong lesson. In another early chapter, Agni led a combat drill on the town green wherein he beats a slovenly noble—and a second and third who he invites to back up the victim—to assert his command. It showed off his combat skill, his disdain for privilege, and the high standards to which he holds his men. Moreover, it undercut his image as a charismatic, respected commander.
Agni gets his “action hero” scenes, but this one hit the cutting room floor.
3. Right scene, wrong eyes. One scene involves a foolhardy bandit ambush that turns into a rout. Agni takes the lead bandit captive and, after a “fit,” turns brutal. Initially, I wrote this from Agni’s perspective—but the reader sees many “fits” through his eyes, and none through another’s. So I rewrote it from another’s.
What did Kali, Sara, or Alexander see? What did Agni’s soldiers and the citizens of Azectrai see? Did they see him as touched by the gods, or growing mad?
This scene opened the door to an entire subplot.
In summary, I removed or reshaped scenes that killed tension, conveyed the wrong image, or simply came from the wrong eyes.
What survived is a story that advances action by consequence, character by revelation.
And if you wonder what else was left behind—you’ll see this in future bonus content.