#higp

Last week I talked about writing a novel. This week, let’s talk about finishing one. The two concepts are certainly worlds apart.

Once I made the commitment to finish a novel, things got a bit easier—but the fight wasn’t over. Sitting down and getting words on the page—writing on a relatively consistent schedule—was difficult. I’ve experienced the process of writing a novel (for the most part) twice—with Duskfall in 2010 and now with Dark Immolation (which I haven’t technically finished yet, but I’m getting very, very close). My process through writing both novels has been similar in many ways, but different in others.

My DF process was certainly less disciplined. I did not have a specific time of day in which I wrote, and I did not write every day (although I did write most days, which I find pretty impressive, looking back on it). But here, why don’t you take a look at the following table, first:

[To see the table, check out my blog!]

A brief explanation: the first column is the dates during the six months I worked on DF (you’ll notice that the first row is for the entire months of January and February—that’s because I didn’t record on a daily basis how much I was writing per day until March). The second column is the number of new words I wrote in DF on each day—if the space is blank, that means I wrote nothing that day. The third column tracks how many words’ worth of notes I made in my worldbuilding document/series bible for DF. And the fourth shows how many words I revised that day, if any.

As you can see, DF was pretty inconsistent. I wrote in streaks, sometimes getting words in every weekday, while going more than a week without writing anything at others. My word count for each day varied pretty widely (from as little as 500 to as much as 14,600*), and I did a fair amount of writing in the series bible and revisions. It is interesting to note, however, that my revision writing stopped in April, and I did not revise any further until I finished the novel, which fits more into my current first-draft philosophy.

I won’t include a table for my current progress on Dark Immolation, mainly because it is much more consistent, and thus a bit boring—I write between 2000-2500 words/day (on rare days I get around 3k), 4-5 days/week. I’m not tracking worldbuilding notes or revisions, namely because I’m not doing much of either at the moment. (I write worldbuilding entires in my series bible often enough, but I’ve made a point this time around of never going back to revise anything. It tends to break up my momentum, and I want to get through the story first before I make any significant revisions. Also, if I continually revise, I risk falling back into my “eternal first drafts” mode, and nobody wants that.)

It took me almost exactly six months to write the first draft of DF, while I’ve been writing DI for a little over seven months now and still haven’t finished. I blame that mostly on length, however—the first draft of DF was around 180K, while DI’s current word count is almost 200K, and I still have about seven chapters to go. So I don’t think my speed has increased or decreased all that much, but there is a lot to be said about consistency.

DI has come along so much more easily than DF, and I think that is largely because I am a much more consistent writer. I get up at roughly the same time every day (6:30 or 7), go through the same routine every morning until about 9:30 or 10:00 AM, which is when I start writing. I then write until the point of diminishing returns**, or until I get to 2000K, whichever takes longest. The rest of my day is reserved for worldbuilding, research, reading, blogging, email, and so forth. That consistency has helped a lot. For one thing, I can actually get some writing and the aforementioned stuff done on a daily basis—something I couldn’t do when writing DF. And while I don’t have as many days where my word count spikes (you’ll notice when I wrote DF there were a number of days where I hit in the high 3k, sometimes the 4 or 5k marks), I find it easier to step into the world every morning, to get into the minds of the characters and see what they see, hear what they hear, and understand what they do.

That’s not to say that I had no consistency when writing DF—looking at that schedule, I’m actually impressed that I could be that disciplined given my writing philosophy and mental state at the time. You can still see hints of “binge” writing, but it certainly has traces of consistency, and I think that’s a large reason why I was able to finish the novel at all. But my current experience seems more efficient, relatively painless, and definitely more satisfying.

So if you have the desire, and you’ve made the commitment to write a novel, I suggest you then work on writing consistently to finish it. Find a time of day that works for you, and make that your Writing Time. Maybe it’s every day, maybe it’s once a week, maybe it’s at four in the morning, maybe it’s at two in the afternoon. But make the time, and keep boundaries so you can stick with it. It’s simple logic, really—if I write a bit every day, or every weekday, or every week, or whatever works for me, I am going to finish that novel at some point or another. That’s how writing works—you put the effort in, and you see the results. Those results come a lot easier when the effort is consistent.

* Biggest writing day I’ve had to date, btw—when I finished DF. 14,600 words in roughly ten hours of writing. It was euphoric. And, even today, that’s kind of my exception to my no-writing-binge philosophy; I’ve found that when I get close to the ending of a story, I feel like a shark that gotten its first sniff of blood, and I often go into a writing frenzy until I finish the thing.

Note: this post presumes general knowledge of discovery writing vs. outlining, but for those who aren’t familiar, here’s a brief explanation: discovery writers (aka “gardeners”) write without the structure of an outline or any ending in mind, letting the story/characters develop organically and dictate what they write next. Outline writers (aka “architects”), obviously, use an outline, and plan their story (and, usually, characters) from beginning to end before they begin writing the prose. Keep in mind that this is a sliding scale, and writers can (and usually do) fall anywhere between those two extremes. For more info just google “discovery writers vs. outliners” or “architects vs. gardeners” and you’ll learn a lot more.

After my post last week about desire, let’s follow things through to the next logical progression: beginning a novel.

I’ll be honest with you: at least for me, beginning to write a novel is a pretty easy process. Ideas are a cheap commodity in this business—I have an evernote folder with literally hundreds of ideas for stories, novels, plot points, characters, etc., and I’m constantly adding to it.* Writing those ideas out—turning the flint and tinder and smoke into a candle flame (or a bonfire, or a MASSIVE EXPLOSION [why not follow through with that metaphor?])—is the real work.**

That’s why beginning with any given idea is so easy for me—the idea’s already there, or at least some inkling of it. Unfortunately, this is also the reason why many beginning writers (myself included) make the following mistake: we write the first few chapters, but then get distracted(by a new character or concept that comes up)/bored(by where the idea ends up going at first)/frustrated(by where the story should or is going from that point)/or otherwise disillusioned by the catalyzing idea, scrap the whole thing, and move on to another project that strikes our fancy. That, generally, is the problem that discovery writers face when they want to begin a project: they love to start projects because the idea is what drives them, but often have trouble finishing things because they get distracted/bored/frustrated. They’re stuck writing infinite first drafts.

Outliners aren’t exactly immune to this sort of malady, however—it just affects them in a different way. Outliners, predictably, tend to get stuck in the outlining phase of projects (a phenomenon known as “worldbuilder’s disease” in many writing circles). Their outline grows and grows and grows, they create character ID sheets and maps and histories and magic systems and plot twists and turns, but never actually begin writing.

I’m a discovery writer, and as I mentioned in my previous HIGP post, I’ve started many different novels. At least a dozen were intended to be actual novels, but if you expand that number to include short stories, novelettes, etc., it triples—at least (and that’s a pretty mild manifestation of this problem, based on some conversations with writers I’ve had). But I’ve also seen the worldbuilder’s disease side of things.

The first draft of Duskfall began as a project for a class I took from Brandon Sanderson. It was not the first novel I’d begun writing; I’d say it was maybe my sixth or seventh. I wrote about 20K words of that draft, but then stopped working on it when the class ended. When I graduated and didn’t get into any MFA programs, I suddenly had time on my hands and chose to return to Duskfall, but I knew immediately that it had too many issues to continue writing without major, major revisions. So I decided to scrap all I’d written, and do some worldbuilding first. I created some magic systems. And some governments. And some religions. And wrote some history. And created lots and lots of characters. And, before I knew it, six months had gone by and I hadn’t actually written anything in the novel—I hadn’t even begun it. I realized at that point that I had a problem, and resolved to sit down and just plow through Duskfall, come what may.

That, it turns out, was the most important decision I made. I’d done a good share of worldbuilding and I’d already written a beginning to the novel, but when I sat down to start Duskfall anew, I had to commit. And now, for me, that’s what beginning a novel means: it’s a commitment. I need to make that clear to myself when I begin any project, because if I don’t, the temptation to jump to something else or get stuck worldbuilding is too strong for me to handle!***

So if you’re a discovery writer stuck continually writing first drafts of first chapters, commit to finishing a project. Hold yourself responsible to that idea. Follow through with it, and don’t allow yourself to jump ship to the first fancy idea that comes along. Your first chapters do not have to be good. More often than not, I make serious changes to my first chapters when I revise, if I decide to keep them at all. Just get through them, and then get through the middle, and then get through the end. Trust me, it’s worth it. And if you’re an outliner, let go of the worldbuilding. Some of it is necessary, of course. But at a certain point you, too, have got to commit. Make your outline and stick to it (Or don’t for all I care, I’m a discovery writer! But at least keep writing forward.), and just start writing!

Trust me, it’s worth it. I mean, it’s fun to worldbuild, and it’s fun to pursue all the pretty ideas racing through my head, but there’s not a lot of fulfillment there. Finishing a novel, though—that’s something. And that’s what I’ll talk about next week.

* Only slightly depressing is the fact that I will never get even close to fleshing out every single one of these ideas in my lifetime. It would be impossible in the most literal sense of the word. But I mean it with the “slightly.” Having too many ideas is a pretty nice problem to have as a writer. Way better than not having enough time to write, for example.

** Incidentally, this is why most writers scoff when people say “hey I’ve got a great idea, you should totally write a book about it and give me x amount of the profits!” Ideas really are cheap. If you have a phenomenal idea that you just can’t wait to share with the world, good for you! Go write it yourself and you’ll find out what I mean when I say that writing the thing is the real work.