thoughtfulSoooo...
***
Step one: have an idea.
This...actually is and isn't as simple as it sounds, thus explaining why the question 'where do you get your ideas?' makes me start to giggle hysterically and twitch. I tend to come up with books due to extremely random connections of stimulus and events. Upon a Star was the result of being over-tired and watching car headlights through mostly-closed eyes while 'Have You Seen Me Lately?' (a Counting Crows song) played on the CD player. Lycanthropy and Other Personal Issues practically requires a flow-chart of external stimulus to explain, and Newsflesh started with me trying to figure out what would happen to the world if the zombies came and turned out to be not as big a deal as the movies have made them out to be. Chasing St. Margaret was the result of jetlag and coincidence. And so on. This is the step that I have absolutely no control over, since sitting down and deciding to have an idea almost never works for me. My muse may be abusive, but she's not cheap.
Step two: declare that I am absolutely not writing that.
Seriously. Every book I have ever written has started with a lot of grumbling and declarations that I am absolutely, positively, certainly not writing that. Nope. Not me. Find another pasty, idea, 'cause I'm not writing you. Nope. This is actually where the ideas start getting fleshed out and functional, because I have to explain them in order to justify why I'm not writing them, and by the end of this period, I generally have, if not a full outline, at least a very solid sense of what the story is and where it wants to go. Kate and Vixy play a very important role in this part of the process: they're the ones who tell me that of course I'm writing it, don't be stupid, now make it make sense. My friends? Yeah, most of them are pretty much evil, as far as I can tell.
Step three: start writing the book.
Generally while still claiming that I'm not writing this book, nope, no way, nuh-uh, not going to happen, no no no, I will sit down and start writing the book. Page one, chapter one, go team go. I may only write a page in the first outing; I may write a chapter; I started 'not writing' Chasing St. Margaret by knocking out 20,000 words and then looking stunned at the disappearance of my weekend. This step lasts for as long as it takes me to determine that a) I was right, and I'm not writing this book -- not now, anyway -- or b) I was wrong, and I am writing this book. As soon as I know one way or the other, I reach a stopping point, save the file, and close it down.
Step four: open the administrative branch.
Assuming that the answer to 'am I writing this book?' has turned out to be 'yes,' this is where I set up the basic administravia that's essential -- for me, anyway -- to the process of writing a book and actually knowing that I'm doing. I enter the book in my Excell file on ongoing documents. I open a continuity guide; I used to only do this for series, but now I do it for everything, because having your heroine's eyes change colours halfway through chapter ten is annoying. (As a teenager, I thought continuity errors were a sign of authorial sloppiness. Now I understand that this opinion was pig-headed and wrong, and would like whoever set the plague of continuity gremlins upon my house to call them off, please. I've learned my lesson.) Depending on how complex the story is, I may write a full outline at this point. (Toby books get full, detailed, chapter-by-chapter outlines. YAs and romcoms get much sketchier outlines and sequences of events.)
Step five: set up proofing tier one.
Some people need to write in isolation, without critique. Other people want to have their work abused from day one. I fall into the latter category. Tier one is the proofing group that reads every chapter (or segment, in the case of something without chapters) as it gets finished, and provide constant feeding-back on what's being done both right and wrong. This is usually where the major continuity errors get caught, although the sequential nature of the work -- and the part where I keep going back to incorporate changes -- means that some things get missed.
Step six: write the book.
Put words on paper. Every chapter/segment, send mail of book-to-date to the tier one proofing list. Make corrections based on their feedback. Continue over and over again until the book is done. (This is the longest step, the most important step, and probably the dullest step, unless you happen to be me, and hence completely enthralled with the entire process of doing it.)
Step seven: first revision.
So now I have a finished book. Whee. This is where I go through, make all the corrections, re-read for continuity and grammar, add a few last serial commas just to satisfy the people who say I don't believe they exist, and generally pronounce it to be an actual book, if not yet a good book.
Step eight: set up proofing tier two.
Tier two is the group that -- having not seen the chapter-by-chapter version of the book -- gets a full, finished, somewhat unpolished edition to read for the very first time, and to feed back on appropriately.
Step nine: send book to proofing tier two.
This is where I take my sweet, coddled and catered-to little baby, and ship it off to the salt mines to build character. Or possibly to die of black-lung, depending on the circumstances and how things wind up working out. It's all a matter of where you happen to be standing (and since I'm the one standing on the porch waving goodbye, my outlook is inevitably somewhat bleak).
Step ten: second revision.
Once the feedback from tier two is in, I do a full, from-the-top revision of the book, which includes -- due to whatever inexplicable engine drives my not-always-linear through processes -- completely retyping the entire book. There's a reason that I am the Great Death of Keyboards, She Who Destroys. There's an actual groove worn into my shift key, it's a little bit frightening if I stop to think about it too hard.
Step eleven: set up proofing tier three.
These are the people -- the few, the proud -- who will actually read the actual, completed book, in its complete state. Usually, this is about one-third folks from tier one, one-third folks from tier two, and one-third entirely new people, to give me a fresh perspective.
Step twelve: send book to proofing tier three.
This is where I either break out the cooking sherry, or start paralleling the next book -- usually I hit step two or three right about now.
Step thirteen: book.
After adding any last revisions, I'm done. It's a book. Medic!
And that, in the most general of senses, is how I write a book.
Ooooooooooo, shiny.
September 12 2008, 19:19:51 UTC 8 years ago
September 14 2008, 16:26:27 UTC 8 years ago