I typed the words "Chapter One" for the first time during a dusty July power-cut. My laptop battery flashed 8%, the fan wheezed like an asthmatic squirrel, and I had no outline—just an image of a girl chasing storm clouds across a salt flat.

By page 40 my cast had multiplied like tribbles, subplots tangled, and the salt flat melted into a generic cityscape. I quit, convinced that novels were sorcery reserved for people with color-coded corkboards.

A year later, a friend dared me to join NaNoWriMo. I cobbled together a seven-step workflow, leaned on Merlin AI for ideas and sanity checks, and typed "The End" on day 29. That draft was messy, sure, but it was a novel—and two rounds of revision later it landed a small-press deal. This guide is the method I still use, told through that storm-chaser book’s journey so you can skip my detours and draft your own long-form story.

Length Target: ~1,700 words
Ideal Reader: Anyone with a novel idea but no clue how to wrangle 80,000 words

Step 1 – Catch the Lightning: Turn a Spark into a Novel-Ready Premise

My Misstep

I started with a vibe—stormy mood, rebellious teen—and trusted magic to supply plot. Result: 40 directionless pages.

Fix & Lesson

Condense the spark into a premise sentence that includes protagonist, goal, stakes, and obstacle: > What if a storm-obsessed teen must chase a mythic thunderhead across a desert to save her drought-stricken town—before a rival storm chaser weaponizes it?

One line, instant compass.

Quick Merlin Move

Prompt: “Turn ‘girl who loves storms’ into three high-stakes premise sentences, ≤30 words each.”
I picked the tightest, pasted it at the top of my doc, and referred to it whenever scenes drifted.

Your Action: Write a one-sentence premise. If it doesn’t hint conflict and consequence, raise the stakes.

Step 2 – Build a Cast That Fuels Conflict (Not Crowd Scenes)

a) Protagonist & Antagonist Yin-Yang

My hero, Lena, worshipped storms; antagonist Dr. Voss wanted to harvest their energy. Their goals collided by design.

b) Supporting Roles with Functions

I wrote a mini-résumé for each side character:

If a character didn’t create tension or reveal theme, I merged or axed them.

Quick Merlin Move

Prompt: “Suggest three rival archetypes for a storm-chasing YA novel; include strength, flaw.”
Merlin produced a rival podcaster, a climate-profiteer influencer, and a disgraced meteorologist. I borrowed traits for Voss.

Step 3 : Chart the Roadmap: Seven-Point Plot Skeleton

Big outlines terrify; a slim skeleton liberated me. I used Dan Wells’s seven-point method:

• Hook – Lena steals a weather drone.
• Inciting Incident – First mythic storm appears.
• First Plot Point – Voss captures Lena’s drone data.
• Midpoint – Lena rides inside the storm, discovers its sentience.
• Bad Turn – Voss imprisons Nana, storms vanish.
• Climax – Duel atop lightning tower.
• Resolution – Town’s first rain in years.

Quick Merlin Move

Prompt: “Outline seven plot beats for premise above, include midpoint twist and darkest moment.”
Merlin’s suggestions filled holes and kept tension climbing.

Step 4 ; Create a Scene List That Doubles as a To-Do Board

I opened a spreadsheet:

Fifty scenes at 1,500 words each ≈ 75,000 words—comfortable debut length.

Color-coding status (white = to-draft, yellow = revised, green = final) gamified progress.

Merlin Scene Planner

Prompt: “Generate 10 scene ideas between Hook and Midpoint for storm-chaser premise; each ≤20 words.”
I slotted the best five, hitting 15 total pre-midpoint scenes.

Step 5 : Draft Fast, Draft Messy (The Discovery Pass)

Tools & Timing:

• Sprint goals: 1,000 words before breakfast, 1,000 post-dinner.
• Zero backspace rule: Notes like [need better metaphor] kept me moving.
• Save daily: Clouds aren’t the only things that crash.

Merlin AI Mid-Sprint Assistant

• Need quick description of desert storm smell? → “ozone-spiced earth, like burnt sage after rain.”
• Need a placeholder meteorology term? → “outflow boundary.”

Thirty days: 78,000-word “garbage draft”—but the entire story existed.

Step 6 Revision Round 1: Structural Surgery

a) Re-evaluate Premise vs. Draft

I highlighted off-premise chapters (e.g., a flashback arc that did nothing) and cut 6,000 words.

b) Character Arcs Audit

Each main character needed:

• Want vs. Need
• Status at Hook vs. Resolution

I wrote mini-graphs; if an arc was flat, I added obstacles or internal conflict.

Merlin Arc Checker Prompt: “Summarize Lena’s external goal, internal need, and midpoint shift based on this 300-word synopsis.”
Merlin pinpointed that her need (accept help) lacked payoff. I rewrote the climax so Mason saves her from falling.

c) Pacing Pass

I marked scene word counts; if three slow scenes stacked, I merged or inserted action.

After surgery: 70,000 words, tighter spine.

Step 7 – Revision Round 2: Line-Level Magic

• Dialogue Rhythm – Read aloud; snip greetings, polish banter.
• Weasel Word Cull – Search just, really, very, seemed. Delete or replace.
• Sensory Enrichment – Add sound & smell.
• Metaphor Check – Align imagery with theme (weather motifs).

Merlin Line Doctor Prompt: “Find passive voice and clichéd phrases in this 500-word scene.”
It flagged “eyes wide as saucers”; I swapped for “eyes reflecting forked lightning.”

Final manuscript: 72,500 words.

Merlin AI Recap: Where the App Shined (and Didn’t)

Where Merlin Fell Short

It suggested three storm names (Zephyr, Tempest, Thunderella). I kept none—voice felt off.
Remember: AI is a tool, not your muse.

Novel-Writing Checklist (Pin Above Desk)

• One-sentence premise with stakes.
• Cast grid (goal, flaw, verbal tic).
• Seven-point plot skeleton.
• Scene list spreadsheet (status colors).
• Discovery draft—no backspace.
• Structural revision (premise alignment, arcs, pacing).
• Line polish (voice, sensory, cliché kill).
• Merlin AI micro-prompts for brainstorms & cleanup.
• Beta readers (3–5 trusted).
• Proofread. Celebrate. Query or self-publish.

Closing Image: Your Blank Page Before the Storm

Novels appear gigantic until they’re reduced to next steps: premise, skeleton, scene, sentence.
Treat each part like a storm cell—small, swirling with possibility. Build enough cells, and yes, you’ll summon thunder.

Open a blank doc. Type your what-if sentence. Ask Merlin for three scene ideas. Write one today, another tomorrow. In a few months you’ll scroll to page 300, stunned at the landscape you shaped—from a single spark on a dusty July night.

Grab your keyboard; feel that charge in the air? A novel is about to break. Happy writing!

Quick-Fire Q&A

How long should my debut novel be?

• 70,000–90,000 words (adult), 50–80,000 (YA), 30–50,000 (MG). Genre rules vary.

Plotter or Pantser?

• I’m a plantser: light skeleton, discovery drafts. Try both; hybrid often wins.

Write chapters in order?

• If stuck, jump to a juicy scene. Spreadsheet keeps continuity.

How many revision rounds?

• At least two: structure first, language second. Add a third after beta feedback.

When to query agents?

• Only after full manuscript polished and beta-read; never on draft one.