Why It Pays to Prep For Writing a Novel (A Love Letter)

I am not big on preparation. I am more of a jump-right-into-whatever-I’m-doing kind of gal. I never read instructional manuals, instead preferring to just start pushing buttons and see what happens. I glance at recipes and often halfway through realize I’m missing crucial ingredients.  And, much to the consternation of my husband, I rarely follow maps.

Yet when it comes to writing, the best experiences I’ve ever had banging out a novel came when I had spent lots of time preparing ahead of time before I got to the actual writing. (And I’ve taught prepping for the novel numerous times.) But the last couple of novels I’ve written fell into the category of brilliant ideas that came to me like a lightning bolt from the blue, which meant that I was so eager to get to them that I just launched right in.

And so I did. With varying results. I wouldn’t say the first drafts were terrible, but in both cases they had some pretty big plot holes and character issues.  Which then required serious revision in the next go-round. And I’ll be honest, sometimes dealing with big issues in a rewrite is hard, hard work.

The rewrite I’m working on right now is…hmm….the second? Third? for my agent (I’m truly blessed that she is willing to work with me until I’ve gotten it right). And only recently, after much pondering, note-taking, and hair-pulling-out, have I gotten to the point where I understand some basic things. Like my main character’s motivation. And her flaws. What she truly wants, not just what she says she wants. Her love interest’s character arc. And so on.

And so, I am here to tell urge you to do some prep work for your novel, for freaking God’s sake. You will be so much happier when you launch into the fun of rough draft writing because you will have some idea of what is going on.

You might like to know, at bare minimum:

A lot about your characters. Use a character dossier, or try out The Story Planner, which has a ton of different ways to suss out a character, and nail the externals first. Then proceed to the internal—desires, motivation, flaws, etc. For my money, it all hinges on the characters. You can never do too much prep work on characters. Figure out as much about them as you possibly can, I say!

The setting. Get a good idea of the basic locations you’ll be using before you start. (You can add on as you go.) Where does your character live? Work? Hang out? Doe she live in the country or the city? How does this affect the story?

The plot. I like to work from a loose list that can be added to or rearranged. And lately, I’ve fallen in love with using index cards, which can easily be shuffled and changed up. It really is helpful to have some idea where you’re going.

Writing a novel is a back and forth process. You do some scene writing and then realize you need to know stuff, so back you go to your character dossiers and your plot list. And then you get ideas for scenes so you return to the writing. That’s the nature of the beast. But I strongly advise you to do as much prep work as you possibly can before you lunge into it.  The next novel I start is going to be supported by as much prep work as I can possibly do.

And I might even start using maps once in a while. Or reading all the way through a recipe before I begin cooking. Or read instruction manuals. Nah, can’t really see that happening.

Are you a prepared type of person or more like me? How does this affect your writing?

And if you are struggling with any aspect of writing a novel, from prep to rewriting, I do have a couple of openings on my coaching roster.  Pop me an email and let’s talk!

Write It Imperfectly, Do It Imperfectly

I was meditating this morning. My legs twitched. I was antsy in my seat. My eyebrow itched and finally I succumbed and scratched it. My back tingled. All these things took my attention away from my mantra–Hum Sah.   And then I started thinking about emails I needed to write and work I had to complete.

I was meditating imperfectly. VERY imperfectly. But, I consoled myself, at least I was doing it. Meditating imperfectly is better than not meditating at all. So, too, with exercise, right? And cooking, and gardening. And–you knew it was coming–writing.

It is important to let yourself write imperfectly. You know this. I know this. But do we remember it when we are writing? Do we let our fingers race across the keyboard, not worrying about how “good” the words are? Or do we stop and obsess about what should come next? What sounds right. What our readers, or agent, or editor will think when they read it?

I do that far too often. Hmm, let me think–maybe I even did it this morning when I convinced myself that one aspect of my character’s backstory had to be figured out in excruciating detail before I could go any farther. When I stepped away from the computer, I realized that wasn’t true at all.  I just needed to write it imperfectly–and then come back and fix it later.

Your job as a writer is to put words on the page. Period. They don’t have to be perfect words. They don’t even have to be good.  The only requirement is that the words come out of your head, through your fingers, and onto the page. Period.

Simple, right? And oh so hard. Just remember–imperfection is your friend. Put it on a post-it next to your computer: IMPERFECTION IS YOUR FRIEND. And remember this in the rest of your life as well.

Let me know how that works out for you, will you? Leave a comment!

The Relief of Routine (A Love Letter)

Routine. Since returning home from France a week and a half ago, I’ve struggled with establishing a writing routine. In France, I followed the same routine as I have here at home for many years: wake up, get coffee, sit down to the computer and write.  Okay, I will admit to looking at email while the coffee brews. My excuse is that this allows me to make certain there is nothing pressing to deal with (lame, I know). And yes, I DO GET DISTRACTED from my purpose to write, just like everyone else. But I’m pretty good about eventually getting down to it. After a couple hours at the computer, I eat breakfast, shower, and carry on with my day.

But, in my month-long absence, my daughter and her family moved in, complete with two small boys, one of whom loves nothing more in the world than hanging out with me in my office. And so, all of a sudden, my precious routine was totally disrupted. Jet-lagged and stiff in every muscle in my body after 14 hours on two different planes, I woke early and groggily sat at my computer in the living room. My daughter had organized a sweet office for me in a tiny room upstairs, but I couldn’t quite face setting up there yet.

For several days, I felt unmoored. Unrooted. Adrift in a strange new world, which was chaotic after the calm, focused days in France. I wasn’t getting any writing (or any work of any kind) done. But I was worrying a lot. How would I ever do any writing with all this going on around me? Would I ever return to my rewrite or the novel I wrote 30,000 words on in France? How would I ever accomplish all the things I want to do?

And then, finally, I set up my computer upstairs and the next morning carried a thermos of coffee up with me very early. And got to work. Jumped back into the rewrite. Suddenly, the world opened up again. I felt like myself again. Because I was writing.  The planets had righted themselves and my life was back on a firm foundation.

Because writing is the foundation of my life and if I’m not finding a way to work on it, I’m unbalanced. Yes, I heard the pitter-patter of little feet an hour and a half into my work session, and my grandson appeared in my office. But by then I’d gotten enough work done that I could cheerfully let him play with my colored pens while I dealt with email.

And the only way I got back to it was by returning to my routine. Finding a way to make it work again, which really wasn’t difficult. If I hadn’t had that routine in place I’d probably still be casting about in the dark for a way to get my writing done.

It is easy to think of routine as boring and rote, the province of boring, rote people—certainly not creatives! But, ultimately, it is routine that will save you. Do you have a routine you follow? I’d love to hear about it! Leave a comment and tell me or head on over to the Facebook group  to talk about it.

By the way, I’ve got room on my coaching roster for one or two clients.  Email me if you want more info and we can set up a time to talk about it.

How About Some Writing Prompts?

Many moons ago, I used to offer a ton of writing prompts. I wrote a tumblr blog called Inventive Writing Prompts (nobody ever said I was good at names, oh and I just checked and it is long gone). I’ve written a writing prompts book (please go look at it because nobody else ever does). And, if memory serves, I had a writing prompt Saturday feature for a couple of years. Gah! How did I ever keep up with that?

But, in my newsletter this week (you can sign up to the right if you’d like to get it–it’s a love letter about all the aspects of writing) I had a moment of panic when I thought nobody was reading what I was writing. That turned out not to be true, thank you all my lovely readers. And in that same newsletter I asked for suggestions. One lovely person suggested writing prompts. Duh! The light bulb went off in my head–I used to do writing prompts in my newsletter, too. I’m not going to do them there, but I am going to try to do a writing prompt post here fairly often (that’s me refusing to commit to a regular schedule in case you hadn’t guessed).

So, herewith, some writing prompts:

“What on earth happened to you?” he said to his wife.

If only it hadn’t rained, none of this would have happened.

Don’t ever say that to me again.

Write about the first time you got kissed–a real kiss.

Last night.

Wait, what?

Let’s try this again.

They sat in the charming bistro, arguing.

Write about something you (or your character) will never do again.

Your (or your character’s) favorite place in the whole world.

Okay, there you have them! Ten writing prompts to get those words out onto the page. If you feel like it, share the results in a comment. Or share: do you like writing prompts or hate them?

Lessons Learned From a Month-Long Writing Retreat (A Love Letter)

First of all, Happy Easter! And if you are not into that holiday, then you can always celebrate the coming of spring. As a kid growing up in the Unitarian church, that was the emphasis we learned.

As you read this newsletter, I’ll be settling into an apartment in Lyon, France for two days, my month-long writing retreat in Ceret over. It was a great success. I wrote 33,000 words of a new novel and then switched gears to focus on a rewrite of a different novel to my agent’s notes. That required a lot of rearranging and so forth, and I’m happy to report that I got a new annotated outline done. So all I have to do now is plunge into the actual writing.

But beyond that, I learned some good lessons this past month. These are taken directly from what the five of us talked, stressed and obsessed about:

–Motivating your characters—giving them credible motivation—is all important. If your character’s motivation is weak or illogical, it throws everything off. But figuring out motivation is hard. Sometimes it takes a lot of thought and working through several drafts in order to truly understand your character.

–Arc in character, plot and scene, in other words, macro and micro is also crucial.

–Timelines are a bear. First of all you have to try to keep track of them. Then you need to monkey them around so they conform to the plot. It’s enough to send a writer to drink. Fortunately, this region of France is full of good, cheap wine.

–Having expansive time and space in which to concentrate on writing is truly remarkable.

–But, for me, probably the best part of this retreat has been the writerly camaraderie. The opportunity to discuss plot over Happy Hour is so helpful. One afternoon, I went to the upstairs apartment and blathered on my character’s lack of motivation. Jenni said one thing, Debbie said another and all of a sudden I said, “I’ve got it! I think I figured it out!” This is for a novel on which I am three drafts in, and I never would have discovered it without their input—and the strong espresso. Never underestimate how powerful writing community is. We writers work in isolation far too much.

I’m grateful for the time I’ve had to concentrate so deeply on my writing and also have a lot of fun. This week its back to the states. And it will be good to be home, too. And more writing surrounded by family and friends—which will be wonderful in its own way.

The moral of my story today is that if you get the chance to go on a writing retreat of any length even one day, do it!

Have you ever taken a writing retreat? What was the result? Leave a comment!

Letting Go of Words, Work, and Writing

A friend wrote from Mexico last week. She said she was having a hard time letting go of the words she was writing.  There were sentences she liked in her essay and she didn’t want to delete them.  She suggested this might be something I’d like to write about.

And she was right. Letting go is one of my favorite topics.

I myself am not terribly good at letting go. You might even say I have a hard time with it. I carry extra weight. My house holds extra clutter. My brain is full of chattering monkeys at any given hour of the day.  And yet I’ve had the glorious experience twice in my life of spontaneously letting go of something that had been bothering me. 

The freedom, lightness, and expansion that follows is astounding. In the aftermath of the letting go, you just don’t care. And not in a bad way. In a deeply peaceful way. You’re certain that whatever is to happen will be what is supposed to be.

How did it happen?How did I achieve this amazing state?  Beats me. I’ve tried to replicate it many times. And, of course, the essence of letting go is elusive like that. The more you try to force it, the less likely it is to happen. So while I’ve not been able to exactly reproduce these wonderful experiences, I’ve come up with some ways to at least deal with them. And I will talk about those as they relate to writing.

Letting go of words, as in the situation my friend wrote me about.  You like those words you put on the page, damnit! And you don’t want to get rid of them.  The antidote: create a hold file, into which you carefully copy and paste those precious words and sentences. I do this for every project. And I can count on one hand the number of times I’ve actually gone back to the file and extracted something I’ve deleted. But it makes me feel better to know I’m not just flinging them to the winds of cyberspace.

–Letting go of negative self-talk, the kind that can keep us from the page and/or keep us from expressing ourselves once we get there. The antidote: well, this is a lifelong quest, so I don’t have one all-purpose answer. But I do have some suggestions. Meditation helps a lot. A lot lot.  Exercise helps, as does EFT (tapping) or any kind of work that helps you get out of your brain and frees you up to put words onto the page.

–Letting go of the actual work, as when it is time to submit to an agent or editor. The antidote: you just have to grit your teeth and do it.  Sorry.

Really, all three of these types of letting go are practices that we writers need to do over and over again So you might as well get used to the process. Oh, and if you’d like to read more about letting go in general, I found this article to be helpful.

Are you good at letting go? Or bad at it, like me? How does it affect your writing? Please leave a comment!

Photo from everystockphoto. I found a crow picture in honor of the crow who lives in the house behind me here in Ceret. You can see his photo here and here.

Losing Faith in Your Writing, Part 2 (A Love Letter)

Dear Writer,

This week, I was happily working on my next novel—ten chapters in—when I got a cheery email from my agent. “Notes coming tomorrow!” That would be notes on my previous novel, which I’ve rewritten twice, working with her.

Ruh-roh.

Because if she was sending “notes,” that meant there was more rewriting to do. The email I really wanted to get would be the one that said we were ready to start sending it out. And then the notes from her and her team arrived, recommending rewrites more extensive than I had imagined.

And I have to confess—it threw me. I read and re-read the email, but no matter how I spun it, there was more work to do. And it felt like being rejected all over again. Like my book wasn’t good enough. Like I wasn’t good enough.

It was all I could think about for a little bit. Rejection is like that—it overwhelms you so that all you can do is obsess about it. I had a hard time moving forward for half a day or so. Couldn’t quite process what I needed to do for the rewrite, couldn’t get back into the flow of the new novel. Spent time feeling sorry for myself. (In the middle of a month-long writing retreat in the south of France, I might add—how ridiculous is that?)

Until the obsessive fog cleared and I started thinking more clearly. And then I realized something. A couple of somethings, actually. First, my agent is determinedly helping me make this book deeper and richer. When first I wrote it, I thought of it as a simple romance. And now it is moving into women’s fiction territory.

And second, I have a top-flight agent willing to take this time and energy and care with me and I’m complaining? She wants to help me make this book as good as it possibly can be.  She has, in a nutshell, faith in me. So shouldn’t I have some faith in myself as well?

Yes, yes I should.

Last week on the blog, I wrote about a friend who spun in many different directions, never landing on one, because she lacked faith in herself. This week the spinner was me. The one who counsels other writers never to lose faith, to keep going, to get to the page regularly.

I should know better, right? Well, yes. But I share my story to emphasize that it happens to all of us, all the time. And the only trick is to let it wash through you and then carry on. Take a day or a week to spin, instead of a lifetime.

And then get thee back to the page.

Lucky Me/Grateful Me/How Good It Is To Be a Writer

Arles-sur-Tech

So, we’re coming up on the end of our third week here in Ceret. After Saturday, we have one more week here, and then Debbie and I have three days in Lyon before heading back to the states.

Already, we are talking sadly about how fast the time has gone. How hard it will be to leave. How much fun we’ve had. How much writing we’ve gotten done. How wonderful it has all been.

And I am sad that this writing sojourn will be over (I refuse to use the word soon in that sentence). But I am also so, so grateful to have this opportunity. I tell myself how lucky I am. But then I stop and think about it. Years ago, when I was living in Sun Valley, Idaho and leaving to return to college after a semester off a friend told me, “Remember, you make you own luck.”

I think I believe that. Yes, we are lucky to be here, but it also takes work. It takes work to find the housing, figure out the travel connections, make the arrangements and so on. But more than that, it takes believing that you can do it. As Debbie, my business partner in Let’s Go Write, good friend, and mastermind of this trip says, “You just have to decide that you’re going to do it.”

(Sort of like writing, right? Would any sane person embark on the process of writing a novel? Or a memoir? Or even a short story or essay? Well, no. But then I’ve always said that writers are the best, most interesting people around so if we are all crazy I guess that is okay.)

Green shutters in Ceret

This is starting to sound preachy, and I don’t mean it to. My intent is to open your mind, and expand your horizons and make you start believing you can do it, too. I’ve been coming to France once a year (this year it will be twice) now for six years. The first time I came, I flew over by myself and made my way to the Air BnB room in an apartment by myself and I was scared to death. I’d gotten used to traveling alone all over the states, but I’d not traveled internationally by myself ever. For that matter, I hadn’t traveled internationally for 30 years.

I managed just fine, of course, because one does. But hailing a taxi was scary (my landlord did it for me), trying to figure out what track the train left from was terrifying (luckily, Debbie met me there), and who knew you had to haul all your suitcases up a tiny staircase once you got on the train? Plus, the French speak very fast and half the time I was left staring at someone trying to talk to me with my mouth open in the universal expression of, “huh?”

But I also remember the feeling of exhilaration that overcame me that first year. How excited I was that I could actually manage to do this. And that feeling has not lessened in all my journeys here since. I still sometimes find myself in a car on a narrow French road lined with plane trees, thinking, I’m in France, I’m in France, I’m in France.

So if I can do it, you can do it (and if you want to come for a writing workshop, consider sojourning with us in September in Collioure.)

It is work, luck, and writing that got me here.  Besides my family, writing has gotten me all the best things in my life–travel, adventure, friends, fun, excitement. As I sit here gazing out from behind my computer to the French sunshine, all I can think is how lucky I am, how grateful I am, but most of all, how good it is to be a writer.

Where has your writing taken you? Leave a comment, or join the Facebook group and we can chat there.

The Haze of Writing Forgetfulness

My view as I write each day

We arrived here in France two weeks and three days ago. Since then, I’ve written ten chapters on a new novel at a pretty good clip. Except for the two days last weekend when I stalled myself out.

I’d written up to the point I had outlined. And then realized that several other scenes needed to be inserted before that point. Which meant much rearranging and figuring and deep thinking.  Which eventually turned into procrastinating, otherwise known as forgetting all the advice I consistently give in workshops and to coaching clients.  Because I’d decided what scenes I needed to write. I was just having a hard time actually writing them.

And what is that advice about writing that I consistently dish out? It is quite simple: get thee to the page and write. Just freaking write. Don’t worry about making it pretty. Don’t worry about having it make sense. Just write. We are way past the age of typewriters, and rewriting is easy–that’s what God made computers for. And spell and grammar check. Getting something, anything on the page gives you a basis on which to build a draft.

I know that. And generally, I follow it. Knocking out ten chapters at a fast pace is proof, right?

But then I got myself blocked. And I forgot. Literally, forgot.

The pet crow who lives behind me

It wasn’t a matter of not walking my talk. It was that, in the moment of facing the page, I totally forgot. There was  a gray concrete wall in my brain between the idea to write fast and get something–anything–on the page, and the act of doing it. And instead I fiddled. And thought I had to have everything all figured out before I wrote the scene. Told myself I was stuck. Ate a piece of chocolate. Stood up and went looking for the pet crow who lives in the house behind me.

The funny thing is, I’m surrounded by writers here at the retreat who are following my advice. Who are busting out the pages, even though it goes against their usual grain of carefully rewriting and revising as they go. So I should have remembered. But I forgot.

I offer this as a cautionary tale, because your brain, too, might play tricks like this on you. Fortunately, in a desire not to squander my time here in France, I have come to my senses and started throwing words on the page once again.

And I remembered another truth, which builds on the first one: the things you need to know will come to you as you write. Yes, I believe in planning ahead. But some things just reveal themselves to you on the page, plain and simple. And if you’re stuck, the best advice is to start writing.

I do not know why it is so hard to remember this. But I will do my best not to forget again.

Does this happen to you?  Please leave a comment and discuss.

And, by the way, are you interested in coming to this wonderful part of France for a writing workshop? We have space in our September events in Collioure! Take a look and email me if you have any questions.

Don’t Lose Faith in Your Writing (A Love Letter)

This week I read an ominous post on a friend’s Facebook feed. Something to the effect that people were praying for her, but there was no specific information beyond that. I messaged a mutual friend and learned that the worst had happened: my friend had died.

I’m very far away from home, and so there is not much I can do. I’ll likely miss the memorial service, because I’m here in France for a few more weeks. One thing I have been doing, though, is thinking about my friend. A lot. It’s my way of honoring her life.

She was a lovely, creative woman, and I admired her for that. And yet, when I think of her I think of her spinning, in the metaphorical sense. She’d go in one direction, then stop herself. Become convinced that a new direction was the ticket, but then she’d stop herself again, before she even had a chance to make progress. And the thing of it was, if she’d only kept going in the same direction, it would have been awesome. Because she was awesome. I’m just not sure she knew it.

Because she’d no sooner get started on something, then she’d lose faith in it.

I know how easy that is to do, and you probably do, too. Committing to writing, or any other kind of creative project, over the long haul takes courage. It takes energy and focus. I’m not saying that my friend didn’t have any of those qualities. She did. But I think other traits overtook her.

And it is so, so easy for that to happen. I’ve experienced it repeatedly. It’s the voice that says you’re not good enough. Your writing isn’t good enough. Why are you wasting time on this? You’re never going to make it. Look at all those other writers who are so much better than you—why do you even bother? People will laugh at you. Everyone will hate you.

Most of us who write regularly give into these taunting voices briefly and then forge on ahead. But I do know there are many, many people out there who, once they’ve given in to the voices, have a harder time moving on.

I hope you’re not one of them. I hope you’re able to maintain your faith in your writing, to stick with it, to keep at it, no matter what those critical voices say. Because you don’t want to die with the best of your stories still in you.

Please join the Prolific and Prosperous Facebook group for some fun writerly discussion!

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