Stories often show up uninvited. It doesn't fit your outline or your genre, but it refuses to leave you alone.
That happened to me recently while working on my novel.
One subplot had its own heartbeat. I loved it and didn't want to let it go, but as the larger story unfolded, it no longer fit. Still, I couldn’t shake it. Its tone was darker, more mysterious, steeped in haunting atmosphere and superstition. I had a feeling it might work as folk horror, but that wasn’t a genre I knew well. So I did what any curious writer might do: I signed up for a Horror Writing Workshop.
I learned that short stories and novelettes thrive in that world -- tight, tense, and self-contained. Suddenly, the lost subplot had a new home. I began reimagining it as a standalone novelette, where it could breathe on its own. I even outlined the story in a query letter that a literary agent is currently critiquing. All of this happened over the course of a half-day workshop that gave my wandering subplot its bearings.
That experience reminded me that when a story tugs hard in another direction, it’s not a distraction; it’s a signal. Our creative compass doesn’t spin for no reason. Pay attention. Sometimes the best thing we can do is follow where it points, even if we have no idea what we’ll find there.