Writing Books, Iron Man Style

Some of the most common questions aspiring writers ask me are about process. How do you write a book? Do you outline, or are you an organic writer? In other words, are you a plotter or a pantser? In other-other words, do you know how to do this, and will you share your secrets with me?

In the interest of time, my answer is usually, “I’m a plotter who likes to rebel against plot.”

The truth is far more complex. The truth is that each book I’ve written has come about in an entirely different way. My process changes with each novel, much the same way I change in course of writing it.

I started drafting UNDER THE NEVER SKY in the spring of 2009. I went into that book having just abandoned two manuscripts I’d written as a pantser—manuscripts that never went anywhere. I was determined to try something different. Actually, I was determined to try everything different.

That was a time of intense growth for me as a writer. I signed up for classes. Read until my eyeballs bled. Attended workshops and studied as much as I could about craft. For UTNS, I wrote an expanded six-page synopsis, which is pretty close to plotting. I had regular checkpoints with two dear friends who mentored me. And I put myself on a schedule, with deadlines for various milestones along the process. Essentially, I gave myself the job of writer, with all its responsibilities, hoping it would eventually be my job.

Another aspect of writing UTNS: it was basically written in a vacuum. No one knew what I was writing. I had an agent and a book deal before most of my family read it, or even knew what it was about. During that time, I was, “Veronica, whose hobby is writing.” Those of you in that phase know what I mean. You have no street cred as a writer until things (agents, editors, book deals) start happening.

The amazing part of writing that book, though, was that anything felt possible. I let go. I threw myself at it. I was fearless about writing it because there was all this wonderful discovery, passion--and safety, being that I was writing with an audience of me in mind. It was an intensely enjoyable experience. I thought about the characters day and night. A love song on the radio would choke me up in the school drop off lane. I lived that book as I drafted it... (I'm tempted to make a bad joke about living with savages.)

To those of you who aren’t published yet, I have to say this: you are in a privileged position. Your writing is yours right now. Take advantage of that and be fearless. Those are halcyon days…. You know where this is going, right?

Book Two. If you’re a writer, then you’ve probably heard about the dreaded book two, which is like a ricochet of book one, catching you unaware, unprepared, possibly leaving you with bits of shrapnel embedded in your heart… oh, wait. That’s Iron Man.

Book Twos are tough because much of what’s present in the writing of Book One (time, innocence, anonymity) is gone. I might become a little dramatic in discussing book twos. And possibly skim through it… Painful, guys. Painful. 

My experience was particularly brutal (or so I think.) I struggled writing THROUGH THE EVER NIGHT. It felt like an ever night. Despite a team that included my editor and agent, I felt lost writing that book. I doubted my ability. I doubted the story. I was in a tsunami of doubt. Try writing a book feeling that way. (See? Just thinking about it makes me sound embittered.) I hopped back and forth between plotting and pantsing. I was Leo at the end of Titanic, hanging onto the fuselage, suffering for what I love, but feeling like no matter what I did, it was gonna be the end of me.

I didn’t know how to write a middle book of a trilogy (it was my first, and it turns out middle books are not easy.) And while writing it, I was launching the first book and learning (or desperately trying, depending on your perspective) to juggle all the peripheral marketing responsibilities of being a writer. All the focused concentration I'd been able to give UTNS was suddenly diluted as I had to consider a website, blog, facebook, twitter, tumblr. Blog tours, book tours, fan mail, reviews, etc. etc. it never ends. I don’t mean to sound complainy about this stuff. I wanted this job. Badly. But then you get the job and you go, wow, this is pretty different than what I thought, busier, way busier, way way way busier. That was surprising. What wasn’t? I love the job as much as I thought I would. Maybe even more.

I’m going on a tangent, which is usually what happens when I talk about Book Two. It’s a subconscious defense mechanism. Hey, have you guys seen Iron Man?

All right, all right. Let’s get back on track. Book Two was hard. It nearly broke me a few times, but I got through it. The lessons I learned were plentiful. I learned the “official” job of writer. I learned how to write outside a vacuum, in a tsunami, with voices weighing in, or criticizing, or praising. I learned how to write a middle book of a trilogy (or so I think.)

In the process of writing it, everything I knew reshuffled and came back together in a new way. I made it through my ever night, and then it was morning. I could almost say mourning, too, because we’re getting to…

Book Three. I came at this book exhausted and scared of a repeat of Book Two, I’m not gonna lie. But guess what? Writing INTO THE STILL BLUE has been a blast. The lessons I learned through Book Two strengthened me. I can now juggle the job of writer fairly well, and I’ve adjusted to writing outside the vacuum. Or rather, I’ve learned to try to recreate that vacuum when I write.

I plotted this book. I let myself deviate from the plot. I knew when to ask for help and when not to. And final books in series? Lots of fun. I hope you all get to write one someday. It’s like the downhill side of a rollercoaster. Not to say it was easy. I have yet to write an “easy” book. But fun? Yes. And sad, which is the mourning part. This ride has been epic, and I'm nearing the end. It's a bittersweet feeling, writing the final words of characters I've spent four years with, and loved.

Perhaps another reason I enjoyed Book Three was my newfound confidence in being a writer. As I wrote INTO THE STILL BLUE, I had two books and a novella out in the world already. “I wrote a book” became “I write books.” For me, it’s an important distinction. I love writing books. I want to write many more. With each one I draft, I might flounder and fumble, but somehow they keep getting written. I see them on my bookshelf, sometimes in bookstores, and it makes me proud. The act of having written books has become self-perpetuating. I want to make more. I want to explore new characters and storylines. I want to suffer through more middle acts and chapter endings and transitions, and somehow, eventually, after floating in freezing cold water for an ever night with shrapnel in my heart, figure it out.

If you read this and were hoping for some tricks of the trade, I hope my message of each-book-keeps-surprising-me and you-can’t-predict-how-its-going-to-go might be a little discouraging. I hope it isn’t. This profession is an uncertain path. But if you walk it with passion, with an open mind and an eager, shrapnelly heart, you will get there. You will learn from each book. The process is as much about you, the writer, as it is about your work. 

So, go. Walk the writer's path, and be fearless. You will figure it out.