Every novelist makes mistakes. The difference between a published book and a manuscript sitting in a drawer is usually not talent. It is whether the writer recognized the mistakes and fixed them before anyone else saw the work.
I have read hundreds of early manuscripts, mine included, and the same errors appear in almost all of them. These are not obscure craft problems. They are the predictable traps that every writer walks into at some point.
Here are eleven mistakes that show up in novel drafts again and again, and how to fix each one.
Mistake 1: Starting Too Slowly
The most common mistake in novel openings: too much setup before anything happens. Pages of worldbuilding, character backstory, or atmospheric description before the reader has a reason to care.
Readers give you about three pages to hook them. If nothing has happened by page three, no question has been raised, no tension has been introduced, no character has wanted something, most readers stop. Many of these mistakes trace back to the principle of showing rather than telling, one of the oldest and most repeated pieces of writing advice for good reason.
The fix: start the story on the day something changes. Drop the reader into a moment of action, conflict, or decision. Weave in backstory and worldbuilding after the reader is already engaged.
To identify if your opening is dragging, look for the inciting incident—the specific event that sets the plot in motion. If this moment occurs in chapter three instead of chapter one, you likely have too much "throat-clearing" text that needs to be trimmed or moved.
You can tighten your opening by focusing on these specific elements:
The Narrative Hook: Open with a line or image that raises an immediate question in the reader's mind.
In Media Res: Start "in the middle of things" where a conflict is already unfolding, rather than describing the protagonist waking up and starting a normal day.
Micro-Tension: Ensure every page contains a small struggle or internal debate, even if the "big" plot hasn't fully kicked in yet.
Try the "10-Page Rule" for backstory: avoid explaining how a character became who they are until at least ten pages into the story. By then, the reader is invested enough in the character's current predicament to actually care about their past.
Focus on active stakes rather than passive observation. Instead of having your character think about a problem, have them take a desperate action to solve it, which naturally reveals their personality and the world around them.
Mistake 2: Telling Emotions Instead of Showing Them
"She was terrified." That is telling. "Her hand shook so badly the key missed the lock twice." That is showing.
Telling names the emotion. Showing creates it. When you tell the reader a character is sad, the reader processes the information intellectually. When you show sadness through specific details, the reader feels it.
The fix: for every important emotional moment, replace the emotion word with a physical action, a sensory detail, or a line of dialogue that communicates the same feeling without naming it.
To master this technique, focus on visceral reactions—the involuntary physical responses that occur before a character even realizes what they are feeling. Instead of saying a character is nervous, describe the tightening in their chest or the way they suddenly find it difficult to swallow.
You can also use the environment to reflect a character's internal state through their observations. A character who is grieving will notice different details in a room than a character who is overjoyed, allowing the setting to act as an emotional lens.
Identify "filter words": Watch out for words like "felt," "realized," or "knew," which often signal that you are about to tell rather than show.
Use the "Body Language" trick: If a character is angry, don't use the word "angry"; instead, have them white-knuckle a steering wheel or speak in clipped, one-word sentences.
Focus on sensory specifics: Describe the metallic taste of fear or the way a sudden chill pricks the skin to ground the emotion in reality.
Dialogue subtext: Let your characters say one thing while their actions betray another, creating emotional tension that the reader must decode.
By focusing on these external manifestations, you invite the reader to become an active participant in the story. This creates a deeper immersion because the reader is "discovering" the emotion alongside the character rather than being told how to feel.
Mistake 3: All Characters Sound the Same
Open your manuscript to any page of dialogue and cover the dialogue tags. Can you tell which character is speaking from the words alone? If not, your characters lack distinct voices.
Every character should have their own speech patterns: vocabulary level, sentence length, speech habits, topics they return to, and how they express emotion. A professor and a teenager should not sound the same. A soldier and an artist should not sound the same.
The fix: write a character sheet for each major character that includes three or four speech traits specific to them. Then review every line of dialogue against those traits.
To differentiate your characters, consider their linguistic fingerprints—the specific quirks that define their verbal identity. You can vary their sentence structure by giving one character short, punchy fragments while another speaks in long, winding compound sentences.
Slang and Jargon: Use industry-specific terms for professionals or regional dialects to ground a character in their background.
Verbal Tics: Give a character a specific word they over-use, like "actually" or "listen," or a habit like trailing off when they are nervous.
Directness vs. Evasion: Decide if a character is blunt and honest or if they prefer to use subtext and metaphors to avoid saying what they mean.
Rhythm and Pace: A high-energy character might interrupt others frequently, whereas a methodical character might pause significantly before answering.
You should also pay attention to emotional vocabulary and how it changes under pressure. A character who is usually eloquent might lose their grasp on grammar when angry, while a stoic character might become even more brief and clipped.
Try performing a "Dialogue-Only Read-Through" where you strip away all action beats and tags to see if the conversation flows naturally. If you find yourself needing to add "he said" every two lines just to keep track of the speaker, you need to sharpen the distinctive voice of each participant.
Mistake 4: Inconsistent Point of View
Point of view errors are among the most disorienting for readers. The most common: slipping from third person limited into omniscient within the same scene, or revealing information the POV character could not possibly know.
If you are writing from Sarah's perspective, you cannot describe what Tom is thinking unless Sarah can see it in his behavior. You cannot describe what is happening in the next room unless Sarah is aware of it.
The fix: before writing each scene, confirm whose head you are in. Then review the scene and remove every piece of information that character would not have access to.
Watch out for head-hopping, which occurs when you jump between the internal thoughts of multiple characters in a single scene without a clear transition. This breaks the reader's immersion and makes it difficult for them to ground themselves in a specific character's emotional journey.
To maintain a tight perspective, you should focus on sensory details that are unique to your POV character. Use these strategies to ensure your narrative remains consistent:
Filter through the senses: Instead of stating "Tom was angry," describe how your POV character notices Tom's white-knuckled grip on his glass or the sudden tension in his jaw.
Limit internal monologue: Ensure that only the POV character’s internal voice is heard; other characters' motivations must be interpreted through their dialogue and actions.
Check for "God's eye" descriptions: Avoid describing the POV character’s own facial expressions or physical appearance in a way they couldn't see without a mirror.
When you need to switch perspectives, use a clear scene break or a new chapter to signal the transition to the reader. This provides a "mental reset" that allows you to explore a different character's internal world without causing narrative whiplash.
Pay close attention to narrative distance to ensure you aren't pulling back too far into a detached, clinical tone. If you are writing a deep third-person perspective, every observation should be colored by that character's specific biases, vocabulary, and past experiences to keep the voice authentic.
Mistake 5: Saggy Middle
The middle of a novel (roughly 25 percent to 75 percent of the total) is where most manuscripts lose momentum. The exciting opening has been written, the climax is far away, and the writer is not sure how to fill the space.
Signs of a saggy middle:
Characters have conversations that do not advance the plot
Subplots that wander without connecting to the main story
Repetitive scenes where the same conflict recycles without escalation
Long stretches where nothing changes
The fix: every chapter in the middle must do at least two of three things: advance the plot, deepen a character, or raise the stakes. If a chapter does none of these, cut it. A strong story structure with a midpoint reversal gives the middle its own momentum.
To tighten your narrative, implement a Midpoint Reversal around the 50% mark of your manuscript. This is a major event that shifts the protagonist from a reactive state to a proactive one, fundamentally changing their understanding of the conflict.
Introduce a ticking clock: Add a time-sensitive element that forces your characters to make difficult decisions quickly.
Raise the internal stakes: Ensure that as the external plot thickens, your character’s personal vulnerabilities are also being tested.
Kill your darlings: If a scene feels like "filler" used just to get characters from point A to point B, replace it with a high-impact event that challenges their resolve.
You can also maintain tension by utilizing micro-goals for your characters. Instead of focusing solely on the final climax, give your protagonist smaller, immediate obstacles that require immediate action and keep the reader engaged.
Example: If your hero is traveling to a distant city, don't just describe the journey; have them lose their supplies or encounter a character who provides vital, yet conflicting, information.
Vary the pacing: Alternate between high-intensity action scenes and quieter, character-driven moments that provide necessary emotional resonance.
Mistake 6: Explaining Too Much
New novelists often do not trust the reader to understand subtext. They write a line of dialogue and then explain what it meant. They describe a character's action and then tell us what the character was feeling.
"I am fine," she said, but she was not fine. She was furious.
The reader understood the sarcasm from the dialogue. The explanation afterward treats the reader as if they missed it. This is condescending and it slows the prose.
The fix: write the scene once showing what happens. Then remove every sentence that explains what you already showed. Trust the reader.
To identify these redundant explanations, look for emotional tags or internal monologues that immediately follow a physical action. If your character slams a door, you do not need to tell the reader they are angry; the action already carries that weight.
Watch for "because" clauses: If you find yourself explaining why a character did something using the word "because," you are likely over-explaining.
Check your adverbs: Words like "angrily," "sadly," or "sarcastically" often act as crutches for weak dialogue or action.
Audit your metaphors: A strong image should stand on its own without a follow-up sentence clarifying its symbolic meaning.
Focus on sensory details and specific movements to convey internal states rather than naming the emotion directly. Instead of writing that a character is nervous, describe their tapping foot or the way they keep checking their watch.
By removing these "training wheels," you create a more immersive experience that allows the reader to participate in the story. When readers have to infer meaning from your descriptions, they become more emotionally invested in the narrative.
Mistake 7: Stakes That Are Too Abstract
A character trying to "save the world" is less compelling than a character trying to save their daughter. Global stakes are abstract. Personal stakes are felt.
The mistake is making the conflict too big and too vague. Readers connect to specific, personal consequences, not to sweeping abstractions about the fate of humanity.
The fix: anchor every major conflict in something the protagonist personally stands to lose. Even in epic fantasy or science fiction, the emotional engine of the story should be personal: a relationship, a home, a promise, a person they love.
To ground your narrative, you must identify the immediate consequences of failure. If your protagonist fails to stop the villain, don't just describe a city falling; describe the protagonist losing their family home or the respect of their only ally.
The "So What?" Test: Ask yourself why your character cares about the outcome on a Tuesday afternoon, not just at the end of the world.
Micro-Stakes: Introduce smaller, tangible losses like a damaged reputation, a physical injury, or a broken heirloom to build tension.
Emotional Anchors: Connect the external plot to an internal wound or desire, ensuring the character has skin in the game.
You can bridge the gap between global and personal by using representative characters. Instead of worrying about "the masses," introduce one specific person who represents what will be lost, making the threat feel intimate and urgent.
Focus on the ticking clock of personal loss to keep readers engaged. When the stakes are specific, the reader understands exactly what is at risk, which transforms a generic plot into a compelling emotional journey.
Mistake 8: Flat Antagonists
An antagonist who exists only to oppose the hero, with no logic, motivation, or humanity of their own, weakens the entire story. A villain who is evil because the plot needs an evil character is a missed opportunity.
Strong antagonists believe they are right. They have reasons for their actions that make sense from their perspective. They are pursuing a goal that conflicts with the protagonist's goal, not because they are evil, but because they want something incompatible.
The fix: give the antagonist the same character development attention you give the protagonist. Define their want, their wound, and their justification. A reader should be able to understand, even if they do not agree with, the antagonist's position.
To avoid a "cardboard cutout" villain, you must identify their internal logic. Ask yourself what the antagonist would do if the protagonist never showed up; if their only goal is to stop the hero, they aren't a character, they are a plot device.
The Mirror Technique: Give your antagonist a trait or value that mirrors the protagonist, but show how they take it to a dangerous extreme.
The Moral Gray Area: Ensure your antagonist has at least one redeeming quality or a person they genuinely care about to humanize them.
Shared Stakes: Place the antagonist and protagonist in a situation where they both want the same limited resource, making their conflict inevitable rather than personal.
You can deepen the conflict by giving your antagonist a ghost or wound from their past that dictates their current worldview. When their actions stem from a place of self-preservation or a desire to prevent a past trauma from recurring, they become a tragic figure rather than a mustache-twirling caricature.
Focus on making their justification airtight within their own mind. If the antagonist can explain their plan in a way that makes the reader pause and think, "I see how they got there," you have successfully created a multi-dimensional threat.
Mistake 9: Overwriting
Overwriting means using too many words to say something simple. Purple prose, excessive adjectives, flowery descriptions that draw attention to the writing instead of the story.
"The resplendent golden orb of the celestial sun descended majestically below the shimmering azure horizon" is just a sunset.
The fix: use plain, direct language for most of your prose. Save elevated language for moments where the emotional intensity earns it. Read your work aloud. If a sentence sounds like it is performing, simplify it.
To identify overwriting in your own work, look for redundant modifiers where the adjective is already implied by the noun. For example, phrases like "shouted loudly" or "tiny speck" waste the reader's time because a shout is inherently loud and a speck is inherently tiny.
Filter words: Remove phrases like "I saw," "she felt," or "he noticed" to bring the reader closer to the action.
Strong verbs: Replace a weak verb and an adverb (e.g., "ran quickly") with a single, powerful verb (e.g., "sprinted").
The "10% Rule": Challenge yourself to cut 10% of the word count from a bloated scene to see how the pacing improves.
Focus on sensory precision rather than sensory overload by choosing one or two evocative details instead of listing every object in a room. When you provide too much detail, you strip the reader of their ability to use their own imagination, which can lead to narrative fatigue.
Trust your reader to understand the subtext without explaining every emotion or movement in exhaustive detail. If your prose feels heavy, try stripping the sentence down to its subject and verb, then slowly add back only the most essential descriptors.
Mistake 10: Unearned Endings
An ending that resolves the central conflict through coincidence, a last-minute introduction of new information, or a deus ex machina feels hollow. The reader invested hours in the story and the payoff was not built into the narrative.
Earned endings use tools that the story established earlier. The skill the character learned in chapter five becomes critical in the climax. The relationship built in the middle provides the key to the resolution. Everything connects.
The fix: check that every major element of your ending was set up earlier in the book. If the climax depends on something that first appears in the climax, move the setup earlier or change the ending.
To ensure your ending feels earned, you must master the art of foreshadowing and plant-and-payoff. If your protagonist defeats the villain using a specific magical artifact or a hidden legal loophole, that element should be introduced or hinted at during the rising action so it feels like a logical progression rather than a convenient escape.
The Rule of Three: Introduce a critical tool or piece of information at least three times before the climax to ensure it sticks in the reader's mind without being too obvious.
Character Competence: Ensure the resolution stems from a deliberate choice or a specific skill the protagonist has developed, rather than luck or the intervention of a secondary character.
Emotional Resonance: Align the external resolution with the character's internal arc, showing that they have grown enough to handle the conflict in a way they couldn't at the start of the book.
You can audit your manuscript by working backward from your climax to identify every "miracle" that occurs. If you find a moment where a character is saved by a sudden storm or a long-lost relative appearing out of nowhere, you must go back to the first act and plant the seeds for that event.
Focus on creating a thematic payoff where the ending answers the central dramatic question posed in your opening chapters. When the resolution is a direct result of the protagonist's agency and sacrifice, your readers will feel a sense of profound satisfaction rather than frustration.
Mistake 11: Not Finishing
The final mistake is the one that prevents all the others from being fixed: stopping before the manuscript is complete. Every error on this list is fixable in revision. But you cannot revise a book that does not exist.
The middle is hard. The self-doubt is real. The gap between what you imagined and what you wrote is always uncomfortable. Push through it. Finish the draft. Then fix the problems.
A finished flawed manuscript is worth infinitely more than an unfinished perfect one.
To overcome the urge to quit, try implementing a placeholder system for difficult scenes. If you get stuck on a complex transition or a specific piece of research, simply write "[Character fights their way out]" and move to the next scene you are excited to write.
Set a non-negotiable daily word count or time limit, even if it is only 200 words or fifteen minutes.
Use sprints to bypass your inner critic by writing as fast as possible for short, timed intervals.
Keep a "parking lot" document for new, shiny ideas that threaten to distract you from your current project.
Focus on momentum over quality during the first draft to ensure you reach the final chapter.
You must treat your first draft as a discovery phase rather than a final product. Understand that your only job right now is to get the story's skeleton onto the page so you have something to work with later.
When the "sagging middle" hits, look back at your protagonist's core motivation to reignite the conflict. Often, the desire to stop stems from a lack of tension, which you can fix by introducing a new obstacle or raising the stakes immediately.
Final Thoughts
Writing a novel is an iterative process, and avoiding these common mistakes can elevate your story from average to impactful. By starting with strong, engaging openings and focusing on showing rather than telling, you ensure that readers are hooked from the first page. Developing distinct, well-rounded characters, consistent point of view, and personal stakes adds depth and realism that keeps readers invested throughout.
Every misstep, from sagging middles to unearned endings, is fixable with careful revision and feedback. The key is to persist, complete your manuscript, and then refine it until all elements connect and resonate with the reader. Remember, the difference between an unfinished draft and a successful novel is the effort you invest in identifying and addressing these pitfalls. With dedication and attention to detail, your story will leave a lasting impression.
Related Resources
FAQs
Here I answer the most frequently asked questions about the mistakes to avoid when writing a novel.
Which of these mistakes is the most common?
Starting too slowly and telling instead of showing are the two most frequent mistakes in early manuscripts. Both are fixable with awareness and practice.
How do I know if my novel has a saggy middle?
Read it straight through and mark every chapter where you feel your attention drifting. Ask beta readers to do the same. The chapters they skip or skim are the ones that need work.
Is it okay to break point of view rules deliberately?
Yes, if it serves the story and you are consistent about it. Omniscient narration is a valid choice. The mistake is breaking POV accidentally and inconsistently, not choosing a broader perspective intentionally.
How much description is too much?
Enough to orient the reader and create atmosphere. If the reader can picture the space and feel the mood, the description has done its job. Anything beyond that is decoration, and decoration should be used sparingly.
Should I fix these problems during the first draft?
No. Write the first draft to completion, then address structural and craft issues in revision. Trying to fix everything as you write leads to the most common mistake of all: not finishing.
How many beta readers should I use to catch these problems?
Three to five beta readers who represent your target audience is enough. Look for patterns: if multiple readers flag the same issue, it is a real problem regardless of how you feel about it.