writing


Are you a plotter or a planner? Well? Do you plan things or do you wing it? Are you organized or spontaneous? Do you structure your books or do you wait for the muse to take you by the hand?

You’re one or the other! Choose!

If you’ve been writing any amount of time, you’ve heard this approximately five million times. And like most things that separate people into groups, people can get tribal about it.

And you know what’s nuts? It’s nonsense. There’s no black-and-white line between plotting and pantsing. I don’t even know how we got here. Who decided that the only choices available are to write a story completely blind or to plan everything ahead of time?

When it comes to planning a story, your choices aren’t “plan everything” or “plan absolutely nothing.”

Here’s the problem with plotting and pantsing. If there are only two choices and you have to choose one, you might think there are only two ways to write: you plan everything in advance or you plan nothing.

This is so, so limiting.

I’ve seen people commit to planning, try to figure out every scene in their book, then despair when they come up with new ideas mid-story. They act like these unplanned-for ideas mean they did something wrong.

And I’ve seen people try to pants a story and hit a creative wall. They don’t know what to write next. Nothing seems natural, the characters could go a dozen different ways, and they may not know where the story is going. But they’re so bought into the idea of creativity as spontaneous experience that they feel they are not allowed to plan ahead at all.

These people have squeezed themselves in tiny little holes. They’re a “planner,” so innovating in the writing phase is wrong! They’re a “pantser,” so planning ahead is forbidden!

Why do people do this to themselves?

Plotting and pantsing is a continuum, not a binary choice.

OK. So let’s throw away the idea that you have to be in either Camp Planning or Camp Spontaneity. Let’s think of it like a continuum.

Imagine a line. On the faaaaaaaaarthest left side is “plan absolutely everything in your story.” And on the other end, the line ends with “plan absolutely nothing.”

And in the middle is a great, vast expanse. What belongs there, you ask? Everything! Anything! Because you know what? There are degrees of planning and degrees of spontaneity.

  • A really hardcore planner might map out all ~40ish scenes in their book before beginning.
  • …But they could still give themselves permission to deviate from it if they come up with a better idea when they’re writing it. They may even end up with a totally different book than what they planned.
  • Or you could do a lighter outline and sketch out bullet points for each scene (or chapter!), but go into the story not specifically knowing how all those events will happen.
  • Or hey, you could do some really light planning and go in only knowing your Inciting Incident, Midpoint, and Climax, and wing everything in between!
  • Maybe you like to plan your characters and world, but not your plot? That’s good, too!
  • Or you could jump in without an outline, pants the story, but “micro outline” one or two chapters ahead of where you are, so you never start a writing session “blind.”
  • Or you can wing the story, but have a backup plan in case you ever hit a wall. Maybe you can be spontaneous until you really don’t know what to do, and then you can brainstorm some ideas, write down the best of them, and see how to integrate them into your work.

Or maybe you have your own technique! That’s even better!

And you know what? These are all perfectly viable techniques. You can plan a lot or a little. You could write an outline and also write organically. You can wing a story but still plan certain parts of it. You can make your own system, where you do the things that work for you and don’t do the ones that don’t.

And you know what? I’m willing to bet that most people do this. The people who pants an entire story and start without knowing anything that will happen? They are the panstiest pantsers there are, but they certainly aren’t the majority. They’re just as much an outlier as the people who plan 100% of their stories in the outline phase and never, ever deviate from it.

And if you’re not trying to cram yourself into a box, you can take advantages of BOTH ways to be creative.

And that’s the magic: planning can be useful. Letting the story guide you in an unexpected direction can be useful. So wouldn’t you want to give yourself permission to do both? It just gives you more tools to use.

And who wants to cram themselves in a box, anyway?

So, seriously: why is this a thing? Why are people so rigid about it? Can’t we treat plotting and not-plotting like techniques we can all use, and stop telling ourselves that we “have” to be creative in a certain way?

Just do whatever works for you.

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The Scribbler logo.I’ve got something a little different this week! You’ve probably heard of these monthly subscription box programs that have been so popular lately. If not, here’s how it works: people send out monthly mystery gift boxes based on a theme. You sign up, and you get mailed a box every month. I’ve never signed up for one before, although I’ve been mightily tempted–there’s a lot of cool stuff out there!

Then I saw a writing-related one, and I couldn’t resist anymore.

Scribbler, which you can find at goscribbler.com, was created by two authors: Victoria Scott and Lindsay Cummings. Each box comes with a novel, a “writing passport” with tips and tricks from the author of that book, an exclusive invitation to an event with an industry professional, and some goodies.

The first Scribbler box launched last week, on March 23. Let’s look at what was in it!

The Goodies

Let’s get the little stuff out of the way. This box came with:

The Scribbler box poster: I will write 500 words and I will write 500 more!

A mini-poster. This was printed on heavyweight paper and was coiled to fit into the box. Interesting idea, but I had to pin the heck out of it to make it lie flat.

Decal that reads #WRITER.

A decal. Slap it on your stuff.

A sheet of stickers. It includes multicolored typewriters reading 'word count'

Word count stickers. Cute and colorful, although I admit that I don’t know how you’d use them. I write on the computer and I keep track of my words in Excel. I guess if you had a calendar and wanted to give yourself some kudos, you could put one up for every day you write? Unfortunately, these are also tiny. You’d need a fine-point pen and a careful hand to put four digits on these.

A set of 10 Yoobi mini-highlighters in a rainbow of colors.

Mini-highlighters! They’re on the small side (as you can tell from the mini) but they’re cute and come in a variety of colors. It’s also a pretty nice brand. This is probably my favorite gift out of the goodies.

Pencil bag that reads 'The Throne of Glass Series, From #1 Bestselling Author Sarah. J. Maas, worldofsarahjmaas.com, Bloomsbury.'

Photo Mar 26, 11 10 49 AM

And a little pencil bag from the Throne of Glass series. I’m not the largest fan of the design. The back is alright (it has a tagline from the series, at least) but the front seems kind of silly. I’d rather have a picture or a logo. It seems a bit anticlimactic to literally write just “The Throne of Glass Series” on a bag.

The book!

Brigid Kemmerer's More than We Can Tell, next to an autographed bookmark, an autographed sticker, and temporary tattoos that resemble the cover of the book.

This month’s box came with Brigid Kemmerer’s More Than We Can Tell, a YA contemporary. It also comes with a few goodies for fans of the author, including:

  • A plain sticker with Ms. Kemmerer’s signature on it, so you can stick it wherever you want
  • A bookmark, also signed, from Ms. Kemmerer’s previous book, Letters to the Lost
  • A set of temporary tattoos consisting of the text bubbles seen on the cover of the book.

More Than We Can Tell is a bit out of my genre, unfortunately–I will read almost any genre fiction and non-fiction, but contemporary fiction has never been my cup of tea. But this seems like a highly acclaimed book from a really successful author, and I am probably now required to at least give it a shot.

The Writing Passport

Small, stapled pamphlet reading 'Writing Passport: Emotional Touchpoints, Volume 1, March 2018.'

Going hand-in-hand with More than We Can Tell is this month’s Writing Passport. This is a regular feature where the author of this month’s book gives some tips on how to do the things they do best.

It’s a cute little book. It’s a decent length (23 pages) and is printed on decent, sturdy paper. It includes an introduction from the Scribbler team that explains what the pamphlets are for and how the Scribbler boxes generally differ from other boxes. Then there’s a bio for Ms. Kemmerer and her tips on Emotional Touchpoints.

She briefly goes through her approach and includes three mini-exercises. I didn’t take toooo very much away from them–the tips weren’t radically different from what I’ve read in most books on craft. All in all, it was a nice, quick read, with some nice concepts, but nothing super groundbreaking.

A Special Invitation to an Event with an Agent

An invitation to an exclusive skype chat with Literary Agent Mandy Hubbard. Explains that a private link will be emailed before the chat.

Now this is something I’m excited about: an event with Mandy Hubbard from the Emerald City Literary Agency. Apparently, the folks who signed up for this Scribbler box will get to attend a Skype chat with her.

I have absolutely no idea what it will entail. But isn’t that awesome?

Unfortunately, I’m not quite as excited as I could be, because while Ms. Hubbard represents YA, including fantasy, it looks like she only wants stuff with strong romance elements. And I… am definitely not writing anything that can be considered fantasy-romance. So if this does turn out to be a pitch event (and it may not!) I don’t know how much it’d help me. A presentation from an agent is always a fun and illuminating experience, though!

The concept is absolutely killer, and this is, hands down, the most useful and interesting part of the box.

And that’s it!

So what do I think? I don’t know!

…What, “I don’t know”? Yeah, that was a lame response. Sorry. But I really don’t know how I feel. I’m truly excited about the agent invitation, even though I don’t know what kind of event it is. And it really doesn’t matter what kind of event it is! It’s an awesome idea, and the idea of getting something like this every single month is amazing.

But outside of that, I admit I’m kind of meh. Out of the goodies, the only thing I really love are the highlighters. They may be mini, but they are genuinely something I’d buy on a whim.

The others? Ehhh. I’ll probably slap the decal on my laptop, but it’s nothing I’d normally go out of my way to get. The wordcount stickers are a nice idea, but they’re small. And again, when and how am I going to use them?

The book may be highly rated, but I really don’t read contemporary. Like, ever. (Wouldn’t a touching tale of two kids in school be better if they were slipping through time, or possessed of an ancient power, or at least being hunted by a creature of pure darkness? No? Come on. Can’t it at least be set in space?) Is it good to read widely? Yes. Should I read it anyway, because the author is really good at what she does? Maybe? But I have such a long reading list already!

All in all, this is… pretty much par the course for a subscription box. It’s a gamble. You spend a chunk of money and hope, at the end of it, that you get enough stuff that you actually like. And for me, I’m on the line. The agent thing is great. So are the highlighters (but, then again, they’re $5, and this box is $30/month.) The pamphlet is a cool idea, although I didn’t get much out of this month’s.

So is this a good value? Financially, it’s reasonably priced–a hardcover book, one $5 big-ticket item, and a bunch of tiny goodies is a good amount of content for $30. But it’s a subscription box, and that means that you might end up getting a bunch of stuff that isn’t up your alley.

Personally? I’d love to see more craft-related stuff, even if it’s just a one-sentence thing that fits on a notecard: a writing prompt. A step-by-step writing exercise. A challenge. Something that tells people to go out and write something. The pamphlet kinda scratches that itch, but I’d love to see more.

All in all, it’s not a bad box for a writer. I wasn’t blown away by this box, but I’m interested enough to give it another month. And if you’re interested, give the April box a look–it’s about point of view!

Within the writing world, you sometimes run into people who are obsessed with finding The Best Idea Ever. These are the folks who write posts like:

  • I’m terrified to talk about my story because someone will steal my idea!
  • I have an idea for a story that’s so good that it’s guaranteed to get me an agent!
  • I keep abandoning stories because I want to find The One Idea that is guaranteed to be a success!
  • And, of course, everyone’s favorite: “I’m an idea person, but I hate writing, so I think someone should write my idea for me and split the profit 50/50!”

These people believe the idea is all that matters–that their idea will get them published or that their idea is worth something. Sometimes you even encounter writers who are afraid to write at all until they hit on the best idea.

And all these people are getting hung up on the wrong thing. A good idea won’t get you published.

First thing’s first: having a good idea for a story DOES matter.

Ideas aren’t completely worthless. It is good to start with an idea that’s unique or underrepresented in some way. A fantasy that involves a dumb barbarian, an archer elf, and a drunk dwarf on a quest to destroy the Lord of Darkness is probably extremely cliche. Everyone on earth has already seen Harry Potter, and there are now two decades of “So-and-so is a [fantasy creature], in [fantasy creature] school!” stories. Overdone ideas are hard sells.

Does that mean they can’t sell? No, of course not. That’s the whole point of this post!

And if you have a unique, interesting twist for a story, then awesome! That’s a great starting point, and it may very well help you sell your story.

So that’s good! But it’s not enough. That one beautiful idea won’t get you published. And even if your idea is kind of overdone? That doesn’t mean you won’t be.

You see, I have an absolutely shocking truth to share with you.

What actually gets you published is the quality of your writing.

Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t warn you! You should have been sitting. I’m sure you’re all beside yourselves with shock now. It’s all right. Take a moment. Relax. Let that settle in.

Yes, unsurprisingly, the thing that agents actually care about is the quality of your writing. And “writing,” in this case, refers to the five zillion skills any talented writer has to juggle. Grammar? Absolutely. Excellent word choice? Yes! But also pacing, plotting, characterization, and an understanding of the genre they’re writing in. And more! Writing is complicated!

And let me tell you: good writing can make anything good.

I’m sure you can think of books that are popular, that have a lot of readers, and that have an extremely common story at its core. Heck, just look at the entire trend of fairy tale retellings: yes, they’re generally a mixup of Common Fairy Tale + Interesting Twist, but part of the challenge of that genre is taking a familiar story, with familiar themes, and making it new.

A really good author can take an idea that you’ve seen a million times and make it genuinely engaging. Their characters are just that dynamic, or their worldbuilding that gripping, or their tension that absolutely page-turning. If you reduced their story to a one-sentence summary, it might not sound like a completely groundbreaking concept–but it’s still good.

And, sadly, the opposite is also true: a bad writer can ruin a good idea.

So you have a really awesome concept. That’s great! But maybe your characters are flat. Maybe your pacing is terrible, and you spend thousands and thousands of words on scenes where no one learns anything and nothing happens. Maybe you struggle with words, and your story is riddled with grammatical errors and strange word choices.

No one–no agent, no publisher, and no reader–is going to say “Well, the underlying concept is cool, so I’m going to read this absolute mess of a book anyway!” It doesn’t matter if you’re trying to find an agent, a publisher, or if you just want to self-publish. A good idea is not going to give you a golden ticket to success if you don’t have the writing skills to back it up.

For that matter, two people can start from the same idea and write totally different books.

And if you’re one of those souls who worries that someone’s going to steal your ideas, stop. Just stop. It’s fine. Idea theft generally isn’t a thing, but even if it were, it doesn’t matter.

A villain could steal your complete and final draft and do harm to you, sure. (That also doesn’t really happen, but whatever.) But no one can really steal an idea.

And that’s because of what I said above–an idea fits in a few paragraphs. A story may be 100,000 words. Can you just imagine how many decisions someone has to make to write 100,000 words? You have to write dozens and dozens of scenes. What happens? In what order? How are those events described? What details are included? Which aren’t? What characters are in those scenes? How is the world set up? How is the tension described?

I mean, just look at writing prompts! Do you think everyone who uses the same writing prompt ends up with the same idea? I attended a writing group just this weekend where everyone wrote about “Two people meet for breakfast.” We ended up with a paranormal fantasy, a thriller about someone getting kidnapped, and a romance about two old flames. Do you genuinely, sincerely think that two people can write two stories that even vaguely resemble each other unless they’re working from a full-novel outline and the same batch of character/worldbuilding notes?

And no, of course they can’t.

In the end, good ideas are nice. But it’s only your writing that matters.

That’s basically it.

Your agents, publishers, and readers are not going to settle down with their Kindle and read your ideas. They’re reading a novel. And in the end, that matters: your writing. Your skill. Your craft.

So don’t let yourself get hung up on ideas. They’re the sprinkles on top of the cake–but they don’t do you a ton of good if you don’t know how to bake one.

I’m sure you’ve heard this advice before: get your first draft down. Don’t overthink it. Just get the thoughts down, get the words down, and finish.

It’s common advice, and it’s not hard to see why. One of the hardest lessons for a new writer to learn is that you have to actually finish projects. And that’s really friggin’ hard! Unless you’re very, very fast, writing 80,000+ words will take several months of work. And that’s just finishing draft #1!

Thus, the advice: just finish, even if it’s garbage.

But you know what? “Write a shitty first draft” means totally different things to different people.  So here’s what it means to me, and why I think it’s an excellent idea… if you’re doing it the way I do.

What does it mean to write a “shitty first draft”?

So, first thing’s first. Finishing is important. Finishing is really important! But this doesn’t mean anything goes. Specifically:

  • Write all the events that you want to happen, even if they’re out of order or don’t have the right emotional tone.
  • If you have scenes you absolutely love to death, put them in here.
  • Connect those scenes as best you can, and foreshadow them as best you can, even if you aren’t 100% sure you’re going to keep all this content.
  • Don’t worry about how nice it sounds. Your scenes don’t have to be beautifully crafted. They just have to exist.
  • Attempt to put all the connections in. For every plotline or character arc, you should put all the major events in: every plot twist, every reveal, every important landmark of character growth.
  • Write all the way to the end.
  • Try to structure it as a story. This means that there are no holes, no “And then everyone was somewhere else, with no explanation!”, and no “WRITE FIGHT SCENE HERE”s. Try to connect the dots.

Does that mean that you only write stuff you want to keep? Of course not! I always have a few scenes (or a few chapters, or many chapters…) that I’m pretty sure I’m going to have to throw out. But I write them if I have to do so to finish the story, then push through to the ending. But I write everything I know I want, connect it with stuff that will probably be similar, and finish.

The end result usually looks like a coherent novel that you could theoretically read and understand. It’s just not very good.

What does a “shitty first draft” NOT mean?

So here’s the problem: I’ve seen people take this advice really differently. “Just finish, no matter what? Great! There are no rules anymore! Nothing matters! There are no standards! Now, as long as I reach 80,000 words, I’m successful!”

And then they just write nonsense. Your story isn’t long enough? Throw in two chapters of backstory! Add characters or events for no reason at all! Who cares! We’re just aiming for a word count!

No! No no no no! You should definitely not:

  • Write nonsense.
  • Completely give up on telling a story and only care about producing a full novel’s worth of words.
  • Change your mind about the story you want to write, but write the old idea anyway so you can “just finish” something.
  • Write filler for the singular purpose of raising your word count.
  • Give up on writing anything that resembles a linear story.

And why not?

The point of finishing a story is to create something you can edit.

When people say “JUST FINISH THE STORY,” they aren’t giving you permission to write anything–anything at all!–as long as the end result is longer than 80,000 words (or whatever your goal is.)

The goal isn’t only to finish. If you want this to be more than just a learning experience, you also need to make something you can edit. And what can you edit?

  • Characters you want to keep
  • Events you want to happen
  • Plot arcs you like

…Even if these are all trash! If your characters exist but are poorly fleshed out, you can fix them. If you have events you like, but they’re not in the right places, you can move them. These things may be poorly written and not very engaging, but they exist, and you want them, so you can fix them.

But if you needed 20,000 words to finish a story, so you padded out the ending… who cares? You don’t care about that content. And when it comes time to edit, and to decide what stays and what goes, your only choice will be to throw it all out. And now you’re 20,000 words poorer and you have nothing to edit.

Remember: it’s okay to write messy. Just be strategic about it.

A first draft is like a puzzle. You can finish it if you have all 1,000 pieces on the table in front of you. If your pieces are gross? That’s fine. You only have the outline, and you’re missing big parts of the middle? Still a place to start. You have a bunch of pieces that don’t even belong to this puzzle? That’s okay! You can fix it.

But you can’t make a puzzle by starting with 1,000 mixed-and-matched pieces, especially if your master plan is to just sweep the table and start over from scratch. In that case, why bother? You wrote a full-length novel, sure. But you didn’t make it any easier to write the story you want to write.

So write messy. Write imperfect sentences. Write not-beautiful things. But write with purpose, too.

Logo for WriteOnCon.

WriteOnCon is coming up! This year, it’s running from February 9 to 11, Friday through Sunday.

Haven’t heard of it before? Check it out. WriteOnCon is a writing convention for children’s book authors, including everything from picture books to New Adult. It’s also completely online, which means you don’t have to go anywhere–just register, sign on, and watch the panels!

It’s only $5 to read all the blog posts, $10 to see all the content, or $15 to see all the content and also have access to it for a month after the conference. So it’s dirt cheap, it’s fun, and it has a lot of seriously good speakers and topics. And Susan Dennard (author of the Something Strange and Deadly and Truthwitch series) is doing the opening keynote! How cool is that?

My experience with WriteOnCon is limited, but it’s something!

I attended WriteOnCon half-assedly in… I’m going to say 2014? It’s hard to compare that experience to now, because the convention was managed by a different team, went down for a while, and now has apparently been revived by a different team.

But that’s not really relevant for this post, because this much is the same: in 2014, I literally only signed up for the forums. I paid no money and didn’t attend any panels. I specifically did the Query Feedback forums, which are exactly what they sound like:  you post your query and you get feedback from the tons and tons of attendees.

Better yet: since agents are participating in the event, they look at the forums, too! And if you get super-super-super-duper lucky, you might get a request!

But chances are you’ll just get a ton of feedback, which is still super useful. You do need to take it with a grain of salt, of course–the attendees range from brand-new writers to honed veterans, and since everyone wants to be fair (if you get feedback, you want to give feedback, too!) you get a lot of feedback. This means you’ll get a mix, some great and some decidedly iffy.

Back in 2014, I was querying Justice Unending, and I got an absolute bucketload of feedback. And while I definitely didn’t use all of it, WriteOnCon did help me forge the query letter I eventually queried with.

Buuuut, I admittedly don’t know what to expect.

That said, I’ve never attended the full event before, so I have no idea what to expect. I’m attending this year, though! I’ll be  listening to all three days of events and participating in the forums. And, hey, it’s $10 and a few days. This isn’t a massive investment.

So if you write kidlit, give WriteOnCon a look!

I looooove Sarah Andersen’s comics. They’re one of the only reasons I check Twitter, because I’m clearly not going to get over my social anxiety and talk to someone.

This gem came out over the holidays. Let’s talk about it!

Practice! Practice. Practice. I want to keep its URL in an easy-to-reach place and paste it into every “I’m new to writing, and I don’t know how to…” post. I want to smoosh it into the face of every person who claims “I’m just not good at [thing]!”

This comic speaks to me. Now I will speak to you. About the comic. And creativity. And practice!

The Myth of Innate Artistic Talent

Let’s talk about drawing for a little while. This problem exists in the writing world, too–and I’ll talk about that in a second–but it’s more obvious with art.

Here’s the myth: many people believe that creativity is an innate part of your being. It’s not something you learned–it’s who you are. You don’t have to study or practice it. You have nothing to learn. You were born with a natural talent for art, and this makes you better at it than other people.

Before we go farther, check out the comments on the above comic. People vehemently disagree with this comic. Let me paraphrase some of those comments. (These’ obviously are not quotes.)

“This isn’t true!” they argue. “I could practice every day and never draw well.”

“It’s definitely not all practice. I can barely draw stick figures. So obviously, I could never get better, even if I tried.”

“But two people can practice the same amount and one will get better faster. Obviously some people will just never be good.”

“It’s all practice,” an artist who has put in a lot of hard work and practice says, and people fight it! I think this is fascinating. Americans have a complicated, weird perspective on work ethic. This is a culture that believes anyone can become better if they try harder. It’s a culture that says that everything you get in life is a result of your own personal choices, and that if you really want something, you should work harder for it.

Unless it has to do with talent.

Then we give up. Talent! No, you’re born with that. You either fall out of the womb with a preternatural talent for art or you will never, ever, ever be good at it. In fact, if you have to work hard at being creative, you should be ashamed of yourself. You are bad, you will never be good, and you should just accept it and find something else to do in life. You are making a fool of yourself. What are you doing? Don’t you have eyes? If you were meant to do this, you’d already be good at it.

Holy moly!

Some people really believe this. They deeply, fiercely believe this. And when someone struggles, this is the first thing they club themselves with:  you must not really be an artist if you didn’t figure all of these out yourself.

But you know what? This is nonsense.

You could learn how to draw. Yes, you. Even if you can only draw stick figures. If you took lessons, practiced every day, and put in hundreds of hours of practice, you would get better. You could, if you tried hard enough, even get good at it.

Don’t believe me? Check out this Reddit post. That person wasn’t blessed by a fairy at birth. That’s practice. And heck, even in the comments, you’ve got the same argument going on: artists who have put in the time to learn these techniques saying that it’s all hard work and learning the right technique, while complaining that everyone blames it on “innate talent.”

How this all applies to writing

The same assumptions happen in the writing world, although they take more time to play out. You can look at a piece of art and see that someone’s talented in a few seconds, but it’s much harder to objectively label a book as “good.”

But everything I mentioned above? The complicated feelings? The “I’m not good at this now, so I am completely incapable of ever getting better” thing? That happens in writing, too. It happens all the time.

People think writing is an innate gift, too. They think that you either have a talent for ideas, worlds, and words or you don’t. They assume that if you’re “meant to be” a writer, you’ll effortlessly write publication-ready, agent-worthy pieces, and vault right over that awkward “no agents will even respond to me” phase.

And people absolutely maul themselves over this.

“I’m not good at coming up with new ideas for stories, so I obviously have no ideas and am not creative. I can never learn these skills or practice them, so I guess I’m not an author.” Yeah. I’ve seen posts like that. Heck, I literally argued with someone who said, “if the first book I write isn’t agent-worthy, I’m never going to write again–it’s not worth practicing writing unless I know I’m good at it.”

Good golly! So let me get this straight: you’ll consider practicing after you become a professional? It doesn’t work like that. Nothing works like that!

Your favorite authors did not spend their lives not writing. They did not go from “never writing a single word for fun” to “writing a masterpiece.” They’ve probably written for years. They probably produced a lot of junk before they started producing professional work. They might have a natural gift for wordplay or clever ideas or realistic dialogue, but they still had to hone that talent into something useful, and they probably produced a lot of awkward garbage while they were figuring it out.

It’s practice! Practice. Practice!

It’s all about practice!

Does talent exist? Maybe. Something probably separates the grand masters from people who are just really, really good at something. But having a natural talent for something doesn’t mean you’ll never have to work at it at all. That’s just a fixed mindset.

We should definitely stop thinking “if I’m not good now, I’ll never be good.” You don’t know how good you’ll get if you put more time and energy into it. How good you are now is no indication of how good you could be.

Art is not an innate part of your being. It’s something you learn over time by practicing and doing. And if you aren’t where you want to be right now, that’s okay–just keep practicing. Just keep doing. Just keep learning.

It’s practice! Practice. Practice.

Banner that reads 'Winner: NaNoWrIMo 2017.'National Novel Writing Month ends tomorrow, November 30. So if you’re still pushing toward 50,000 words, you still have time! Go go go~!

Like I said a month ago, this was my first serious attempt at NaNoWriMo. It’s been a wild month, full of write-ins, friend-making, and writing-encouragement cake. I had a lot of fun, but it was also really different. Here’s how it went.

I went to a different write-in every week and I met a ton of interesting people.

During NaNo, people hold “write-ins,” where you meet up with other people at a coffee shop or library and write for a couple of hours. There was only one write-in anywhere near me (and it was held at a time when I couldn’t regularly attend), so I ended up driving to a lot of random events.

And I’m glad I did, because each write-in was a totally different experience. My first write-in was super awkward. There were seven people there. Great turnout, right? But when one suggested we write, almost everyone left. Only three of us stayed to write anything. That wasn’t a great start.

But I kept at it, and every other meetup was awesome. I got to meet the author of Big Top Burning, a MG non-fiction about the 1944 Hartford, Connecticut circus fire. I attended an awesome, big-scale event with catered food, cake, and people who were as into fantasy as I was. I made friends! It was fun.

I wish I was in a more active area.

I live near a really large city. Not in, but near. And yet my entire NaNo region was dead.

There was no municipal liaison. The forums were empty. There were one or two write-ins, all thinly attended, and the most successful ones were ones cross-posted from another region. I ended up having to mine events from a different region, which meant that everything I went to was 40-60 minutes away.

This made socializing an absolute pain in the butt. I met awesome people, and they were far. I saw several cool libraries, and they are far. I learned about writing groups that are far away.

I am seriously tempted to apply for the liaison position next year, because there are  millions of people where I live and why are they all driving downtown to write?! This must be fixed.

I wrote a lot, and in a totally different way than I usually do.

I normally write like this:

  • I outline for 1-3 months.
  • I write approximately 2 chapters a week.
  • I usually write an entire chapter (~3,000-4,000 words) in a day or two.
  • Once I write a chapter, I edit it the next day. I usually change large details, restructure it, or reframe it. I move to the next chapter when it’s good enough.

I don’t do a lot of work on each chapter. But I do want each chapter to accomplish something specific, clearly show what mindset the characters are in, and set up a launching point for the next chapter.

This means I usually end up with 8,000 words a week, all lightly edited. I could not do this for NaNo. There simply wasn’t enough time for me to write 50,000 words and edit them.

The end result is weird. It’s much, much rougher than my usual first drafts. It’s more like a long-form outline than a novel. I want to rewrite… pretty much all of it. The beginning should not have happened the way it did, I needed to introduce a bunch of characters earlier, I need to change the motivation/conflict that drives the first half of the novel… Yeah. Big stuff.

But you know what? I’ve written first drafts–slowly written, lovingly edited–that I did that to, too. I recently finished draft #2 of a 90,000-word YA fantasy that I lovingly, slowly wrote. I still threw out the first 14 chapters and rewrote them from scratch.

This draft is uglier. But I’m throwing most of it away, so who cares?

I’m not sure that I’d write everything like this–it’s nice to have more time to be thoughtful about the content–but it was an interesting exercise. I’ll probably post more about that in the future.

And I’m not done.

I’m done with NaNo. I have my shirt, I’ve got my WINNER tag, and I’m officially at ~51,000 words. But this novel isn’t done.

This novel is probably going to be 80,000 words long, which means I have several chapters left to go. So I’m going to keep writing this through December. When I’m done, I’ll have a first draft that requires… really, really considerable rewriting, and probably a complete re-outlining.

But it’s still been an awesome experience. I met some awesome people, did some fun things, and saw some wonderful libraries. It’s definitely a fun experience–but the best part about it is the people.

 

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