In 2009 I started work on my fourth novel. (I’ve written three, published two…) In April of 2010, I finished it and began revisions. In August of 2010 I finished my first set of revisions. I started another round of revisions, and then in May of 2011 decided to scrap most of what I’d written and start over.

Completely over. I had a little over 95,000 words, and it took me two years to get there. Yet, I was starting over. I decided to listen to the advice I’d heard for so many years—that when you think you’re book is good enough it isn’t. Not even close.

I used to need another pair of eyes to tell me this. My novel, while good, was just not good enough. The action didn’t start until page 100, it had way too much backstory, and didn’t have enough character development to make anyone care how the story ended. I can say that now, (without crying) because it’s the truth. Of course, I whined and complained about the time I’d spent, anyone who writes knows 95,000 words doesn’t come easy—even if it’s horrible. I tried to patch it together, but it showed and ultimately I believed in the story enough to do it justice. And that meant starting over.

I wouldn’t have been able to do this years ago. I would have looked at the time I invested in the book and made the decision that my time was more important. That the time I spent writing the book warranted me to get the book published. Now.

How wrong I was. It’s not the time you invest in your book—it’s the quality of material that comes from that time spent. That applies to anything in life—losing weight, working in a garden, cooking a meal—it’s not the time spent that’s the important part, it’s the quality of that time spent that results in a better outcome. Drive through a neighborhood and see a beautiful yard, you don’t see the hours spent planting and pruning. You see the flowers, the green grass—you see the results.

I learned that it didn’t matter how much time it took me to write this book. But what did matter was the book—the result of my time spent.

It takes a while to get there, to realize sadly that your book is not ready. That it needs more time. But when I slowed down, stopped rushing and just kept writing, it improved. My book got better. I knew it, and I’m not so nervous to give it to my beta readers as it nears completion. And of course they’ll be edits and revisions. But I’m going in with my best work. And that is advice well taken.

My current WIP, is going great I just want to be finished! And not for the usual reasons—tired of the characters, fatigued by the plot, or just plain tired of writing the same story different ways for years—no, I want to be finished because I have another story that’s in the background screaming for attention.

And I love the storyline, you have to if you plan on sticking with something for so long. And these new characters want their turn, in fact if I don’t give them their due, then they’ll start leaking out in my current WIP, and I can’t have that.

So I’m doing what any good writer would do—beat the mess out of those new characters until they shut up.

Ha.

But seriously, what to do when your next book doesn’t want to wait it’s turn?

Well, this may be contrary to what most writers do, but I think writing two books at the same time is a big DON’T. (This does not mean that you can’t edit, and write new material. I’ve done it, and most authors do work on two projects simultaneously. But to actually write two books at once? A NO-NO in my opinion.) But what I do believe that needs to be done is to start taking notes on the next project, maybe not a full outline, but definitely jot down when one of your new character’s says something memorable.

But be careful! Starting new books, even outlining too soon, can make you procrastinate on your current novel. Pretty soon, you’ll have a bunch of inspiring half-finished novels hiding in a file on your laptop.

So while it’s great to have new ideas percolating, I can’t let it distract me from my current WIP. These characters want their story told too. So I’m off to finish their story…

After reading this post at the Girlfriends Book Club by Carleen Brice, I got to thinking about my novel’s beat sheet. And I was surprised to learn that yes, I had one already in place—definitely not as organized as Carleen’s I’m afraid, (the Hubby would love it if I used Excel more for my writing. He uses an Excel spreadsheet just to go grocery shopping. And no, I’m not kidding…)

I use the trusty Post-It note system. I have notes scattered all over my desk about what should happen and when. My notes usually consist of phrases like this:

Don’t forget to have Sam’s best friend fired in chapter five!

You left out part about Rebecca’s mom in chapter 13. Imperative to growth of character!

Beard or no-beard on Jonathan?

Dog must die in chapter seventeen. Mean, but necessary. Car or bus? Or even better—poisoned?????

I also keep a notepad with more pertinent details, like which sub-plot is weak, or if I’ve dropped a sub-plot altogether, (which I have, sadly, more than once.) The Post-It’s are my daily reminders, but my notepad goes into detail on how I can make those reminders happen.

Now it might not be as technical, but it works for me. But after reading that post, it made me think, why don’t I try a hand at setting up an Excel spreadsheet for my characters and my sub-plots? Or at least use the beat sheet link that they provided?

I know of a sub-plot that’s weak in my book, why am I waiting for my critique partner to point it out? I need to take the time to fix it now. I’ve always been the type to get the hard stuff out of the way first, so I’ll just get it done now, instead of whining about it later. Either way, it needs to be fixed, and there’s no time like the present.

I’m glad I was made aware that I already have my version of a beat sheet in place. And now to improve on my Post-It method. Excel anyone? (I can just hear the Woo-Hoo! from the Hubby. Oy…)

My yard is suffering too. All my flowers have withered and died, some kind of bug is eating at the small lemon tree in the back yard, and my daughters chalk writings are still etched on my back patio. But my yard—even without the flowers—is still pretty decent. But I can’t put my focus on that right now. It nags at me, but not as much as this book I need to finish.

My point is that when you have deadlines—self-imposed or not—you’re fooling yourself if you think you can handle everything. When I have a deadline, the first thing I cut is TV. Then sleep. And then yard work, (although this stifling Houston heat could be the culprit…). Either way I have to give up something. Or this book won’t get done. Sometimes you look at other successful writers, prolific writers that churn out a book a year, and think, “We have the same 24 hours in a day. How are they getting this done and I’m not?” They’ve figured out that time is money. It’s a currency that we use in exchange for other things. So before I turn on the TV, I think to myself, “Which is going to bring me more satisfaction, seeing who gets kicked off on Food Network Star, or getting five pages written in my book?” I pretty much always know the answer, (although I love when Bobby Flay critiques a contestant’s food and watch their face fall as he tells them how horrible it was. Trust, it makes good TV). I know my sacrifice will pay off when I’m holding my novel in my hands. And that is worth plenty of missed TV shows, no matter how bad Bobby makes ‘em cry.

*To get a glimpse of how tough the judges are watch the video below!

I always thought outlining would make my books stale, part of what I love about pantsing was that I felt free to let my characters choose their own path. But pantsing got me in trouble because it gave me too much freedom. I filled my novel with so much fluff, that the action—the true meat of the story—wasn’t fleshed out until page 100. Outlining has given my story direction and makes the writing easier, because I know at chapter twenty-five, what is going to happen, instead of hoping that I get it right.

And no, outlining does not make your characters lifeless robots who will obey your every command. Your characters will still evolve and change with you as the story progresses, and I find myself having to write notes on my outline because of the changes my characters go through.

Every writer has their process. When I wrote Six O’clock, I wrote it longhand in several spiraled notebooks. Now, I write my outline in a notebook, and type my novel on my computer. I’m learning what works best for me, and right now, having an outline works. The lesson here is that don’t assume what you will like if you’ve never tried it. If you are a pantser, write a brief outline and see how it works. You may hate it. Or you may find yourself like me, a former pantser, now a happy outliner.

And the writing has been divine. It’s been the kind of writing that reminds you why you started this profession, the sheer love of seeing words jump off the page and make you gasp, “I actually wrote that?” The chapters are piecing together like links in a chain—everything just fits. (I have to add though, that since this is technically still a major re-write, I’m probably writing so fast because I know these characters in and out. I had pacing and plot issues before that I needed to work out so using a chapter outline has truly saved my life. It’s a tool that I plan on using from now on. But more on that tomorrow…)

So, yes while everything is going tremendously well, me being a sick and twisted glutton for punishment, have decided to up the ante and really speed up my writing. I want to finish this book in 40 days. That’s right, I want this book completed by August 20th. I’m dying for my critique partner to read it, and the only way for her to actually read it, is for me to finish the thing.

This could all blow up in my face of course. I’m almost expecting it too. But a part of me—a big part I might add—thinks I can do it. Thinks that it’s at least worth a try. And so off I go to write. And then write some more.

Think I can do it?

For me, it boils down to two reasons, my lack of patience and comparing myself to others.

Let’s tackle the first one, me being impatient. For my first book Six O’clock, I remember the simple joy at getting a chapter down on paper. I knew I didn’t have a clue of what I was doing, but I loved it so much I kept at it. Writing was just for me, something I did in the privacy of my bedroom, and I loved the fact that it was something I did by myself. At the time I was living with my parents, and owned a salon with my mother and younger sister. We shared everything and sometimes it got to be a little overwhelming. But I remember the release that writing gave me, the fact that it was something that was all mine. No sharing involved. It brought me an insane amount of happiness, and made me feel like I was doing something with my life. (Mind you, at this time in my life all the siblings were off and married and I was beginning to get the question that every single woman dreads—“Why aren’t you married yet?”) Yes, writing was my thing, and I didn’t let my ignorance over the craft (I bought several books and a magazine subscription to Writer’s Digest and The Writer) and lack of writing supplies (I wrote my first book in longhand) stop me from getting it done every evening. I didn’t have a time limit set on when I would finish it, the goal was simply to finish it. Fast forward a few years, and another book under my belt, and now I feel like I’m not writing fast enough. And my writing isn’t good enough. I’m putting an exorbitant amount of pressure on myself this time around and that pressure is translating into my writing.

And then there’s the comparison thing. I mentioned yesterday that a click on Twitter or Facebook and you’ll see another writer sharing their great news about their book selling in Asia, or their book getting optioned to be made into a movie, or going into a fifth printing…it goes on and on. And yes I am happy for them, because let’s face it—writing is hard work. It’s work that is done in the dark, behind the scenes, so if one of us gets a few accolades, then all of us succeed. But a part of me reads the news and I run to the computer because I have to finish this doggone book! No sense in wondering if that could be me if I never finish my book! And then it goes back to me being impatient, and then the impatience leads to comparing…and the vicious cycle continues.

This isn’t why I write. The hubby reminds me of that every day. “You don’t write to get rich, (ha!) for prestige, (what’s that?), you write because you love it. Concentrate on that and the happiness will come back.”

So I’m determined to do just that. To get my happy back, to get back to the core of why I write. To be truly happy for my writer colleagues and not pressure myself to turn this book into something it’s not. I don’t want my angst and frustration to show in my next novel. I want my readers to enjoy my book just as much as I enjoyed writing it. So I’ve been keeping a journal, something I haven’t done in years and writing down my feelings about my writing process and I’m finding that I’m just plain scared. Scared that I’ll have another book on my hands that didn’t sell. I wasn’t afraid when I wrote my first book. I was…excited. And just plain giddy seeing blank pages fill up with words. So I’m working on getting to that place again, to not be worried about failing while I write. I have to put those thoughts out of my head and I do that by getting them down in my journal. And the funny thing is, when I go back and read some of the things I’ve written, it’s downright ridiculous. When I read from it out loud I find myself laughing at some of my fears. Why? Because most of those fears will never be realized. And because I’ve already conquered the fears that I have realized—bad reviews, not enough reviews,mediocre book sales—and that I’m still standing here, writing. Because I love it. I just had to be reminded how much.

I want to act like a pimple faced 13 year old and shout that if my book doesn’t get published then I’ll just die. Literally. Just. Die.

But that’s happened already. I’ve written a book that didn’t sell, and hold on let me check—yep, my heart is still pumping. The sun shined the next day and life went on.

So yes, I am pretty nervous about whether or not this book will publish. People don’t realize how hard you work to make another world on paper. And to make that world come alive and become real? That’s a lot of blood, sweat, and tears, my friends. I have confidence that it will sell, that this is my best work yet, but I still hear a small voice in the back of my head… “What if?” “What if this book isn’t good enough? What will you do then?”

“Same thing, I do every day Pinky. Try to take over the world.” (Pinky and the Brain was one of my favorite cartoons growing up, sue me.)

Basically, I would do the same thing I’m doing now. Write the next book. As much as I want this work validated by my peers and readers, as much as I don’t want this book to grow dust on a shelf, (or in my filing cabinet) I know that writer’s write. And if this book makes the rounds and no one bites it doesn’t mean I failed. Because being published doesn’t mean I succeeded. Writing and finishing a book—that is what deems success to me. Sitting a desk when no one asks you to, when no one is watching and pounding out the words day in, day out—that’s my idea of success.

So I’m nervous. I know that’s normal. But at the end of the day, I know no matter what, I’m doing what I love. And how many people can say that?