Welcome to July. I GUESS. When did this happen?
I don’t know if you know this, but authors are often detached from the regular flow of time. Right now I’m simultaneously reliving Divergent (which is 15 years old) because of the Deluxe edition, existing in the present with all things Seek the Traitor’s Son, and staring down the future while working on copyedits, etc., for upcoming books.
I have a lot of books coming out in the next year or so, guys.
The Sixth Faction comes out in October. Its sequel comes out in February. And Seek the Traitor’s Son #2 comes out that Spring. All of these books are done. (Very nearly, anyway.)
Last week one of my international publishers noticed an error in the final draft of the book while translating it, and I had to go back into my notes to check something. My notes are not organized. So I’ve been taking a walk down memory lane, and I thought I would share some of it with you.
I don’t write many notes when I’m working on a book. Though I do a lot of invisible work that informs what’s on the page, the page is still where most of it ends up.
But I did find this:
When I wrote the original series, I didn’t sit down to do these kinds of calculations. But this time, I wanted to have a better sense of scale. The population of Divergentland is deliberately small; I think you can feel that when you read it. But in The Sixth Faction, the city itself feels bigger. (Makes sense—it’s written by an older version of me that actually lives there.) So there’s this feeling of emptiness, but also of possibility. I really like that aspect of it.
![We have one mirror in our house. It's behind a sliding panel in the hallway upstairs, and my faction lets me stand in front of it once every three months, when my mother trims my hair. But I look into it more often than that. About once a week I creep down that hallway in my bare feet, stepping wide over the creakiest board, pausing to listen for voices in the communal kitchen. Then I slide a fingernail around the edge of the panel and tug it back-just an inch, sometimes. Just enough to see a stern blue eye. Other times...a little more than an inch. My brother Caleb caught me once. He didn't say anything, but the look on his face was chastisement enough. On the day of the aptitude test, when my mother sits me down in front of it, I keep my eyes on my lap. My cuticles are bitten raw, and they sting whenever I press down on anything. "You're nervous," she says, as she cuts in straight, even lines with the scissors.](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!MXcB!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fd215bcae-fe41-456c-9f7d-f799d2f2247c_1080x1350.png "We have one mirror in our house. It's behind a sliding panel in the hallway upstairs, and my faction lets me stand in front of it once every three months, when my mother trims my hair. But I look into it more often than that. About once a week I creep down that hallway in my bare feet, stepping wide over the creakiest board, pausing to listen for voices in the communal kitchen. Then I slide a fingernail around the edge of the panel and tug it back-just an inch, sometimes. Just enough to see a stern blue eye. Other times...a little more than an inch. My brother Caleb caught me once. He didn't say anything, but the look on his face was chastisement enough. On the day of the aptitude test, when my mother sits me down in front of it, I keep my eyes on my lap. My cuticles are bitten raw, and they sting whenever I press down on anything. "You're nervous," she says, as she cuts in straight, even lines with the scissors.")
This is the very earliest beginning I wrote when I was deciding whether to pursue this project or not. I was just feeling my way back into Tris’s voice, testing it out to see if it felt good. I didn’t think this sounded like her yet, but I was curious about this highlighted line. What if I showed this moment with Caleb, instead?
![We have one mirror in our house. It's behind a sliding panel in the wall upstairs. I'm allowed to stand in front of it once every three months, when my mother cuts my hair. But I look into it more often than that. Today I wait until nobody is home. Commented (VR2]: maybe start the same way Still, I stand in the hallway and listen to the silence for a little while, just to be sure. Then I go into my room and lift up my mattress. There's a black shirt there, neatly folded, that I took from the factionless donation bin last week. It's simple, long-sleeved. I'm going to put it back, just. not yet. I have to do something first. I take off my gray jacket, and the loose gray shirt I wear under it. Then I put on the shirt I borrowed. Stole, from people who need it more than you do, I think, and the voice in my head sounds like my father's. My mother's. My brother's. A cacophony of Abnegation voices, all living inside me. The shirt is tight. It's cut low, under my collarbones. I walk into the hallway, to the panel that covers the mirror. My heart is racing. I can hear my breaths as I slide the panel back. For a second I'm disappointed. I'm the same. Small and pale. An Abnegation girl in a costume. Then I tug some of the pins out of my hair, so it falls over my shoulders, blonde and rippling from the knot it was in. And I think, who is that? I see movement in my reflection. Caleb is standing at the end of the hallway, his foot hesitating at the top of the stairs. Our eyes meet in the mirror. "I-" I start to say, only..what? What could possibly explain this to my perfect Abnegation brother? I slam the panel back in place, and rush into my room. Soon after, I hear his door close.](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!4JAM!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fcd79b4b6-a41e-45d1-9418-39f6817d5a68_1080x1350.png "We have one mirror in our house. It's behind a sliding panel in the wall upstairs. I'm allowed to stand in front of it once every three months, when my mother cuts my hair. But I look into it more often than that. Today I wait until nobody is home. Commented (VR2]: maybe start the same way Still, I stand in the hallway and listen to the silence for a little while, just to be sure. Then I go into my room and lift up my mattress. There's a black shirt there, neatly folded, that I took from the factionless donation bin last week. It's simple, long-sleeved. I'm going to put it back, just. not yet. I have to do something first. I take off my gray jacket, and the loose gray shirt I wear under it. Then I put on the shirt I borrowed. Stole, from people who need it more than you do, I think, and the voice in my head sounds like my father's. My mother's. My brother's. A cacophony of Abnegation voices, all living inside me. The shirt is tight. It's cut low, under my collarbones. I walk into the hallway, to the panel that covers the mirror. My heart is racing. I can hear my breaths as I slide the panel back. For a second I'm disappointed. I'm the same. Small and pale. An Abnegation girl in a costume. Then I tug some of the pins out of my hair, so it falls over my shoulders, blonde and rippling from the knot it was in. And I think, who is that? I see movement in my reflection. Caleb is standing at the end of the hallway, his foot hesitating at the top of the stairs. Our eyes meet in the mirror. "I-" I start to say, only..what? What could possibly explain this to my perfect Abnegation brother? I slam the panel back in place, and rush into my room. Soon after, I hear his door close.")
This is the second version of it. There’s something devastating to me about her stealing a donated shirt because she’s just that desperate to become herself.
I didn’t keep this, though. Not because it’s bad, but because it feels more like later-in-the-book Tris than Abnegation’s Beatrice Prior. But writing this did help me remember her better.
I do have a few little diary entries for The Sixth Faction, because I needed to articulate to myself what I was doing and why I was making certain changes. Now, I want to be clear: The Sixth Faction is not primarily a revision. I didn’t write it to “fix” things. I wrote it to explore something new inside of something old. But after over a decade of writing books, I have learned some things, and I wanted to incorporate them…which means some things are, in fact, revised.
I’ve talked before about how it feels to look back at old work and see its flaws as well as its strengths. People usually assume I’m talking about the end of Allegiant when I allude to “flaws.” But I’m actually talking about stuff like this:
![In the original Divergent, there was a patchwork of futuristic technology that loosely revolved around serums, with each faction having a different one, as well as simulations that kept evolving as the series went. This resulted in a kind of "anything can happen at any time" feeling for the series—it was always breaking its own worldbuilding rules to facilitate key emotional moments. But in the years since I wrote the series, I've realized that in a futuristic world, rules are essential for reader satisfaction. We can't feel that at any moment, the rules can change. We have to be able to rely on them to trust the narrative.](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/$s_!_QdR!,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fsubstack-post-media.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fc9fa0ad3-bb09-4a7e-98eb-53550e015950_949x907.png "In the original Divergent, there was a patchwork of futuristic technology that loosely revolved around serums, with each faction having a different one, as well as simulations that kept evolving as the series went. This resulted in a kind of "anything can happen at any time" feeling for the series—it was always breaking its own worldbuilding rules to facilitate key emotional moments. But in the years since I wrote the series, I've realized that in a futuristic world, rules are essential for reader satisfaction. We can't feel that at any moment, the rules can change. We have to be able to rely on them to trust the narrative.")
Now, you don’t have to agree with this critique, but I thought you might be interested to see it. When I reread the original series to prepare for this project, this was one of the things I noticed. There’s an ever-evolving serum that’s first restricted to the aptitude test and fear simulations; wait, now there’s a fear simulation that people are aware during; now it’s extending to the whole city; it’s an injectable liquid; now it’s an aerosol; now Jeanine’s projecting simulations in her office, but they’re not fear simulations; also there’s a non-injected liquid in the bread— see what I mean? The story is built on this shifting sand technology and even if you don’t notice it, I can feel it.
There was also this:
I saved this in its own document with the label “find a place for this.” I like this because this is a Tris I recognize. There’s a part of her that knows exactly who she is, and another part that’s been told to ignore the first one. The trick, for her, is teasing those two selves apart.
Can’t wait for you to reunite with her again. Just a few months from now, guys!
Like a shark, I simply do not stop moving. Up next, I’ll be doing events for Seek the Traitor’s Son in the UK (with that gorgeous, galaxy-sprayed edges edition)! I’ll be in Edinburgh on July 13th, Manchester on July 14th, and London on July 15th. London is already sold out, but tickets are still available for Edinburgh and Manchester!
I promise I’ll sleep sometime, but today is not that day. Come see me in the UK and watch me use the claw!
V
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