By Sabyasachi Roy
This article can come with an alternate title, Gaslighting Yourself into Believing Your Book Makes Perfect Sense. This is not without a rational outing. You spent years hammering out your novel, agonizing over every plot twist, ensuring airtight logic. And then some smug reader points out that your main character, locked in a windowless, bolted-from-the-outside dungeon, somehow ends up sipping coffee at a café two chapters later with no explanation. It’s only now you realize that, somewhere along the way, the airtight logic developed more leaks than a budget submarine. But fear not! Because what some might call “glaring inconsistencies,” you can proudly rebrand as “deliberate narrative intrigue.”
Rookie mistake: admitting it’s a plot hole. Veteran move? Convincing yourself (and everyone else) that it’s meant to be that way. Let’s explore the fine art of pretending inconsistencies are intentional—because if George Lucas can retcon half of Star Wars, so can you.
1. The “It’s Not a Mistake, It’s a Metaphor” Defense
Did your character from the eighteenth century check their wristwatch while passing? Relax. That is a metaphor for the fluidity of time, not an anachronism!
Everything in your book is symbolic, even the things that make zero sense. That talking cat that disappears halfway through the novel? He represents the fleeting nature of happiness. The character who miraculously survives a fatal stab wound? That’s resilience in the face of adversity, my friend. Readers just need to think deeper.
If all else fails, tell them it’s an homage to James Joyce. No one will challenge you because no one wants to admit they haven’t actually read Ulysses.
2. The “Unreliable Narrator” Escape Route
Your protagonist swore they saw their best friend die, yet here he is, alive and well in chapter 12. Some might call this a glaring inconsistency. You? You call it literary genius.
Just slap the label “unreliable narrator” onto your story like it’s a “Gluten-Free” sticker at a health store.
“Oh, you thought the timeline didn’t make sense? That’s because the protagonist’s perception of reality is fragmented. It’s meant to make you question everything!”
Even if you didn’t intend for them to be unreliable, congratulations: now they are. And honestly, you’re so committed to this bit that you might just convince yourself you planned it all along.
3. Quantum Logic Storytelling: Schrödinger’s Plot Hole
A plot hole only exists if a reader notices it. Until then, it’s both an error and a brilliant narrative enigma.
Did your character open a door that was explicitly locked in the last chapter? Well, maybe it was unlocked between scenes, and the reader just wasn’t privy to that knowledge. Or maybe, and this is the true genius move, the door is both locked and unlocked at the same time—existing in a state of quantum uncertainty.
“It’s meant to make you think,” you say, despite having thought about it for approximately zero seconds when writing it.
4. Retroactive Justifications and Other Jedi Mind Tricks
If history has taught us anything, it’s that you can absolutely go back and rewrite the rules of your own universe. (Looking at you, J.K. Rowling, who retroactively decided that magic toilets existed before plumbing.)
Did you contradict something from chapter three? No, no, no—this is a hidden layer of worldbuilding. That throwaway line you wrote about “no one surviving the forest” but then sent a character waltzing through it? Clearly, they have some special connection to the land that even you didn’t know about until right this second.
The trick is confidence. Say it like you planned it all along, and readers might just believe you. Heck, you might believe it yourself.
5. When All Else Fails: The “Reader Interpretation” Lifeline
When you’re truly backed into a corner, hit them with the classic:
“It’s up to the reader’s interpretation.”
This phrase is the ultimate literary “get out of jail free” card. It works for everything:
Inconsistencies? “The reader must piece it together!”
Character motivations that make no sense? “It’s ambiguous on purpose!”
Half-finished subplots? “It reflects the unresolved nature of life!”
At some point, someone will call your bluff. But by then, you’ll have moved on to writing the sequel, where all the old plot holes are completely ignored in favor of new ones.
Final Thoughts: Embrace the Chaos
Look, writing is hard. Continuity is harder. And readers? Unreasonably observant. But you don’t have to live in fear of plot holes. With enough confidence, a dash of pretentiousness, and some light gaslighting (of yourself and others), you can convince anyone that your inconsistencies are actually art.
And if anyone still complains? Just mutter something about “postmodern deconstruction” and walk away. Works every time.
Bio: Sabyasachi Roy is an academic writer, poet, artist, and photographer. His poetry has appeared in The Broken Spine, Stand, Poetry Salzburg Review, Dicey Brown, The Potomac, and more. He contributes craft essays to Authors Publish and has a cover image in Sanctuary Asia. His oil paintings have been published in The Hooghly Review. You can follow his writing on Substack here.
