Tough love

That's the title of an article by Jay Stringer at Do Some Damage, a crime writers' blog. When Stringer writes about writing, I pay attention. The man makes a world of sense and says things like no one else. Here's an excerpt:

Learning to write is like learning to fly, you just have to get up everyday and throw yourself at the ground in the hope that one time you miss. You never miss, but you never stop trying.

Is that great, or what? I love this guy. Nobody sounds like Jay Stringer except Jay Stringer, and that's an achievement in itself. If you're a writer who needs a kick in the butt, read this article and then make a habit of visiting Do Some Damage on Thursdays, which is when he posts.

Writing: next steps and a look back

I've almost finished reading the draft of my sci-fi novel, "The Worlds". It's the book I'll be working on this year (throughout 2013, actually).

My reaction so far is that some sections of the book sing, while others seem like they were written by a (not very talented) high-schooler. The latter problem is something I'll handle in direct fashion: I'm going to rewrite huge sections of the book, from scratch. The day I finish reading the draft, I'll begin.

I've come up with a new way to begin the story. I think it will work well. The reason I'm heading toward a rewrite is that that there are basic elements missing from the draft. I didn't know enough about writing when I produced it four years ago. I've learned a lot since then and will put this knowledge to good use in the rewrite.

Writing Xmas Carol was the best experience of my life. I've never had so much fun -- and I was learning all the while, which is perhaps the best thing. My learning curve was so dramatic that by the time I finished writing the book, the beginning seemed amateurish. There was that much of a bump in my skills level. This led to over a year of editing, which I don't regret. The editing is where I really learned how to say things.

I cannot wait to apply what I've learned to "The Worlds". Much excitement ahead.

I created a blog for Xmas Carol

Now I have three blogs -- this one, another one that is identical except it has graphics, and a separate blog for Xmas Carol.

The reason I did this was to tart up my author's page at Amazon. You can include a blog feed on the page, and at first I linked to my main blog (the one you're reading now). But the anti-god posts didn't seem to be a good fit with a sci-fi/horror author's page. I didn't want to scare folks away before they learned what a sweet guy I am.

So I created the Xmas Carol blog. You can see it on the right on my author's page at Amazon (link above) and there's also a link to the blog on my Smashwords author's page.

Not only will this provide a dynamic lift to my author's page, it will give me a place to discuss writing. I used to do that here but this blog morphed into a fierce anti-god site. I applaud this purpose but posts about writing no longer seem to fit in. If any readers were fans of my writing posts (just search on the tag writing process below to see these posts) you'll find new ones at the Xmas Carol blog. (At least, you will when I write them. I'm just getting started there. I have one introductory post up, at present.)

Just FYI.

Editing a novel

In the early days of this blog, I wrote a lot about the process of writing fiction. How do you write a novel? How do you create a character? How do you write dialogue? What makes a scene work? If you click on the tag "writing process" below, you'll see those posts. The truth is that I've been learning how to write a novel as I wrote one. I find the same is true of editing.

At first, I edited the entire book from start to finish. This is a necessary process and it helps you to become familiar with the scope of your book. You get to see it in one fell swoop, in other words. But while this is definitely helpful, I found that no matter how many times I went through the book, I was still changing things. This gets to you after the 40th pass through the book. It really does.

Right now, I'm completing the final stage of editing my horror novel, Xmas Carol. (Yes, I'm still editing the book; what can I say? It needs it.) I'm doing the editing differently now. What I do is edit a chapter -- and immediately edit it again, and then again, and again. I do this until I'm completely satisfied with the chapter. Then I mark that chapter done and move on to the next. This seems to be working in a way that whole-book editing never did. I'm now happy with the first nine chapters of the book. It's only got 12 chapters, so I'm almost there.

I'm not sure how other fiction writers handle the editing process but this seems to be the way I do it. I'd love to hear from other writers. How did you edit your book?

As for regular readers who are dying to get their hands on Xmas Carol, I promise the book will be out by July. I swear. I'm almost there. Woot!

I miss the free-for-all

Writing novels is the most enjoyable, exciting thing I've ever done. But I miss the freedom I experienced when I first began to write.

There was a period of intense creativity when I was coming up with ideas and filing them away, sorting through the universe of possible stories I could write. Dog, how I loved that! It was the biggest free-for-all imaginable. I could write about anything. I get "chill bumps" (as I heard a feller say the other day) just thinking about it.

It was the grandest time I ever had -- except for the actual writing of the books. But these two activities aren't in the same ballpark. Writing a book is constrained, in that you know the story and your job is to follow (or change) your plan. As an activity, it has borders all around it.

But the idea stage, when I lived in that breathtakingly huge arena of possible topics, was wild. How I miss it. The air was fresher there. It really was.

You're alone when you write

It seems obvious -- of course you're alone when you write. But I mean you're really alone, to the point where you may as well be writing in outer space. When you go to that computer (or take pen and notebook in hand), there is no one there but you.

No one will write your book for you and it won't write itself. You are the one who will make or break your novel. I'll say it again: you're alone.

But another part of this deal is that you have complete freedom. From start to finish, no one but you is in charge. I like this so much and as I close in on the final manuscript of Xmas Carol I can feel the power of this proposition. The final form, the words as they'll be written in stone -- will come only from me.

It's like sculpting, this final stage of creating the book. Borrowing Michelangelo's imagery, I'm carving away the excess stone to reveal the sculpture of the story within. And in the process, I too am discovering its final form. I love this process.

Creating fictional characters

Last night I was musing about the characters I've created for my books. Characters can be wildly interesting and it's fun to create them. At first you sit around, thinking this or that over, trying to see the character and get a feel for him. And after much soul-searching, you reach a point where you're ready to write a scene in which the character appears.

The thing that hit me last night is how important it is to write the first line of dialogue for your character. In that line is everything. Yes, you will develop this character further but as soon as you write down his words -- he exists. In fact, it's shocking how fulsomely he exists.

This happens because in that one line of dialogue is everything you need to know. (Okay, not really but stay with me.) You commit to the character when you write a line of dialogue, and instantly you know this person. It's as if the line is DNA that contains the blueprint for everything that must follow.

I think this happens because of the nature of writing and the nature of humans. When you write dialogue, you're not listening, as you do in life when someone is talking. You're speaking through the character. And in doing so, you are him. I think this happens in large part because the writer can literally hear the character's voice as he speaks. And in that intonation, that delivery, that voice, is the character, whole and true. At first, only the writer can hear this voice but in the course of the book, he makes the reader hear it too -- and hear it truly.

The knowledge a writer feels comes also from human knowing, from the built-in talent we homo sapiens have for understanding the actions of others. It's that mirror neuron thing, when you get right down to it. By speaking in the character's voice, the writer becomes the character. This is nothing new for us. We humans can slip into the minds of others at will. We do this to figure out the motivations of others so we know whether to trust them or not. To do this, we in a sense become the other person, and in doing so we can feel if their words and actions line up in a logical fashion. We ask if they are believable, and we're uncanny in our ability to ferret out the truth. It's how we come to understand others and it's one of our basic survival skills.

So when we slip into a character, we learn a lot. It's not so much a writerly skill that comes into play -- but a human one. This is how characters are built: we get inside them and become them. And the moment you write that first line of dialogue, you've crossed the Rubicon. You're off and running. This is how characters come to be -- at least, in my worlds.

His only copy

Ideas for stories pop into my mind. It's not something I consciously encourage -- It just happens. And sometimes it happens too much.

I can end up feeling stalked by my ideas. They're always percolating up from the depths and there are far too many of them. I feel compelled to write them down because I don't want to lose them, but sometimes it's almost non-stop ideas, 24/7, and then it becomes a burden. I'm always having to interrupt myself to write down a new concept. Sometimes I wish my ideas would go away -- not forever, but for a while. (Yes, I realize this is manic behavior. I am indeed manic. I love it!)

An idea is only truly fresh when it first comes to you. There is an actual bloom on a fresh idea. It's sticky, with all sorts of ancillary ideas attached to it. And when you fully unfold an idea, it can be huge. Now, it's never ideal to go back to an idea. You want to grab a new idea and rush to the keyboard with it -- you want to use it. And that's great as far as it goes. But it's not always time for an idea, especially when you're in the middle of writing another book. (Which is why every writer needs lots of notebooks.)

Although I fear losing my ideas, there's a certain kind that I just push back into my head, unexamined. It's not their time, you see. I also do this because I don't want to examine an idea closely and cause its probability wave to collapse. So I just shove it back into the depths, still fresh and filled with unplumbed promise. It's tricky to engineer this without losing the idea entirely, but it's possible and at times, necessary.

For instance, I don't want to have ideas right now about the third book of The Worlds. It's not time for those ideas. Although I've written pages and pages of notes for the third book, I don't want to look at anything too closely. I want to forestall the moment when my brain charges headlong into the story. So far I've been able to stem the tide of ideas for book 3. They're still safe inside my brain and they'll be fresh when I haul them out for the big unfolding. (Plus I did scribble this and that down, just in case.)

This reminds me of a friend from my college days. His name was Richard and he did a very odd thing. If, for instance, I asked him for the telephone number of that guy we met last night, a number neither of us had written down at the time, Richard would be able to pull it out of his memory and tell me. But dog forbid I didn't write it down, because if I asked him an hour later for the number, he'd say, "Sorry. That was my only copy and I gave it to you." And that was that. He was never able to remember the information again.

I think this has to do with short-term memory, the mind's scratch pad for information that we need in our daily life -- like our address and phone number and those handy key combinations we use at the computer. Eventually, if we don't use a bit of information that resides in short-term memory, the brain pushes it off the local scratch pad.  Richard's brain was just very efficient about this process. When it delivered information that it thought it would no longer need, it tossed it in the garbage. (You also have to wonder if his brain performed a "Move" operation instead of a "Copy". It's fun to consider these things.)

I point this out to show that our brains handle ideas in their own odd ways, and we have to respect this and work within our capabilities. As far as me shoving book ideas back down into my brain, I think the truth is that I don't want my ideas to enter short-term memory because they'll get get dusty and lose their luster there. Plus, they might get shoveled off to a distant corner of my brain when I'm not looking, and who knows if I'll be able to find them again. Richard couldn't. 

This has been a report from my brain. Please feel free to report from yours.

Lucid writing

I noticed something odd while editing Xmas Carol. I am brutal in my edits, hacking and slashing just about everything. It seems I can always see a better way to phrase something, and as a result I edit in a chronic way, only achieving what I want after many passes. I do finally get to the point where I'm happy with what I've written, but it takes forever to get there.

Which is why it was so odd to encounter several pages of good writing in Xmas Carol, stuff I didn't have to edit at all. Not paragraphs, but pages! And this happened more than once. It's so strange. Why are these sections different from the others? What allowed me to write so clearly and capably that day?  And what prevents it from happening at other times? It's a mystery.

It's not just a visit from my muse, Phil; it's something else. I call it lucid writing. When it happens, a window opens and I can draw on all my skills in concert. That's what I think it is -- a coordination of skills, a coming together of disparate brain elements that aren't usually online at the same time.

When it happens, writing is so easy. There's nothing in the way. I just see the words and write them down. It feels graceful, as if I'm in synch. I can't trip, at least for a time. It's so nice to lay down pages like that.

Lucid writing, "The Zone", whatever it is, it's magical and a writer's best friend. I wish I could call it up on demand, but I can't. In the end, I'm just grateful that it visits me now and then.

The process of writing a novel

I often think of writing a book in terms of decorating a house. I touched on this idea the other day with the post about making each scene sing. This post is about a similar way of looking at your work.

At the start, you decide to write a book and you assemble your ideas. Deciding to do this is akin to buying a new house. It's big, it's empty and there's lots of room. You may sketch out ideas for this or that area of the house (parts of the book). Even before you move in (start the book) you've got it all planned out.

Finally, you move your stuff (your ideas) there and decorate the rooms (write the scenes). Whether it's a book or a house, it's time to dress the place. After all, you've bought it.

Each room is a scene. What will you place there? What personality or story will the room (scene) contain? Just as you try things out in a real room, putting this here and hanging that there to get a sense of the room's potential, you can write a scene a certain way and see how it sounds. With both the room decoration and the scene, we have the option to come back later and improve it, bit by bit.

So you store the information (save your file) and move on to another room. At least you've staked your claim on the former room; you'll get back to it later. For now, you want to spread your efforts throughout the house, to give it a sense of style. You decorate a room to a certain extent and then move on to the next room. In this sense, you write a scene and know that another scene is necessary -- you move on.

At some point, you've laid down a framework of your style throughout the house. That's the first draft. Now you can go back and purchase (write) the things each room really needs. (Make the scene sing.) And just like filling a room with guests at a party, you place your characters strategically throughout the house and watch (and write about) their interplay.

When you've written the book and you like what you've done, you move on to the outside of the house (the book cover) and do what you can to make the place attractive and inviting, so people will come to visit.

And finally you have a party and invite people to your finished house (launch and sell the book). It works for me.

Ideas that come from nowhere

There are many ways to write fiction. You can plan your book, outline it and pave every step of your way to the conclusion -- before writing a thing. I hear some writers do this. Others have a vague idea, sit down and start writing. For writers that ride the seat of their pants, it comes out how it comes out. They're winging it all the way.

My approach is somewhere between the two. I do plan the book consciously. I know how it will begin and how it will end, and I have a mushy understanding of how it will get from here to there. I know my characters, who they are and what it feels like to be them -- though this knowledge expands throughout the process of writing.

When I write a scene, I've set it up mentally before I begin to write it. I know which characters will be in it, what needs to occur in the scene, and I have a notion or two about how to move the action in the required direction. The rest is ad lib.

But that is not the half of it. While writing, I find that great ideas come from nowhere. I can't be any more specific about their source. They're certainly nothing I plan beforehand. They just sort of float into view as I'm writing. 

(I also have the strange notion that they emerge into the upper left quadrant of my field of vision. That's where I "see" the idea come into being. This may sound odd but that's how it seems -- it literally comes "out of left field.") 

Where do these thoughts come from? They provide the nuts-and-bolts ideas that make the book work. A lot of my best plot turns arrived in this strange manner, and connections between disparate plot areas also occur to me as I write. It's like there's another level of communication going on between various areas of the brain, and this communication only occurs in the act of writing. That's kinda cool.

I guess these ideas bubble up from a well of creativity inside us, though of course this is a uselessly vague statement. What well of creativity? Where is it and how does it arise? In the end, it's a complete mystery to me how any of this happens. 

At some point an idea comes into existence, like Athena bursting from the forehead of Zeus. Why do these thoughts emerge from the mists, and at whose behest? These are interesting questions to which I have no answers.

Regular readers know that I just rack it up to Phil, my muse guy. Thanks, Phil! But whether it's Phil or a part of my brain I don't even know is there, the moral is the same: writing is a partnership. It's not just our conscious mind that writes fiction. It's something more.

Baseball and writing: it works for me

My topic today is inspiration and whether we can encourage it. Are some activities less conducive to inspiration than others? And is there an activity we can engage in that will enhance our creativity? I don't think anyone knows the answers to these questions, which means we have only our experience to guide us. Here's mine.

The big ideas -- the concepts for the novels, for instance -- came at odd times: when I had a high fever, when I was thinking about something completely different; and (for Xmas Carol) in response to a question I asked myself.

But the bulk of my ideas -- for new short stories, new scenes, interesting plot twists -- came while I was watching a baseball game. When baseball is in season, it and writing are a perfect duo for me. I write in the afternoon (there is no such thing as morning) and when nighttime rolls in, I watch or listen to a game. There's something about baseball that lets me pay attention with only a part of my mind, effectively allowing most of my mental energy to roam. I think that's the secret. Baseball makes me comfortable and doesn't suck up my mental resources. This allows ideas to bubble up during the game.

When this happens, I pause the game (thank you, TiVo) and write down my thoughts. When I'm done, I jump back into the game -- and this happens over and over again. For some reason this works incredibly well for me. It's like a system: write all day and at night, watch baseball and have ideas. On summer mornings it's so great to wake up to a fresh batch of ideas. I have coffee, read my notes and then I'm ready to dive into the day's work. It almost feels like baseball is my writing partner.

The process of "getting and idea" is weird. You can't just sit down and say, "okay, tonight's the night -- I'm going to have that great idea." It doesn't work like this. You can't schedule two hours to come up with new ideas.

For you, baseball might not cut it. The subtext here is that inspiration arrives in odd moments -- like when you're on a long train trip, or when you're taking a walk or are on the very brink of sleep. (More here about a way to snatch those sleepy ideas before you fall into the abyss and they're gone.)

In other words, inspiration can't be coaxed; it comes in its own time. It seems that good ideas come only when we're not looking for them. Weird, eh? Kinda like love. To me, this is more evidence that it's not our conscious mind that's controls our writing. It's our entire self, including mental components deep down inside -- stuff we don't even know is there. And those components play by their own rules. All we can do is wait and be receptive.

Writing update

For the past few days I've been writing new scenes for my first book, The Worlds. It's going well.

Writing fiction is always a magical process. I don't know when I'll write, how I'll write or what I'll write. I have plans but they go out the window the moment I begin.

Without warning, the urge to write hits me and I rush to the computer and I'm writing. Almost on its own, the writing continues in a mad rush until the scene is finished. And if I'm on a roll I don't stop. I just write another scene and then another one until there's no more writing left in me, and I collapse like a rag doll.

Writers make detailed plans all the time; I do it too. But then the writing happens and the plans go out the window. I say this all the time: I am not in control when I write. It's something else, something beyond consciousness that does the work. (Now, don't go thinking spirits or god nonsense; it's just Phil). However it happens, it feels damn good to write.

As a result of adding the new scenes, one of my main characters in the first book is now involved in an unusual romance. And in the process, the first book (which I confess was sinfully short in its first incarnation) is packing on pounds -- good pounds, I might add. This isn't just book obesity.

Anyway, good things are happening. I'm so thankful that I'm a writer.

The Hutch school of writing

In Ira Levin's "Rosemary's Baby," there is a character who taught me something important about writing. Do you remember Rosemary's elderly mentor, Edward "Hutch" Hutchins?

There is a scene where Rosemary visits Hutch at his apartment in Manhattan. For those who haven't read the book (or seen the movie), he is her current landlord as the movie opens. He is a writer of boys' adventure stories, and he invites Rosemary to his apartment to tell her that his research has uncovered some unsavory facts about the Bramford, the grand, old building into which she plans to move with her husband. (For those who read the book, do you remember the Trench sisters who ate children? It was Hutch who told Rosemary about them.) Okay; scene set. Let's jump in.

Rosemary asks Hutch why he has two typewriters on his desk, each loaded with paper. In response, Hutch offers a simple and sensible answer: he writes one book on one typewriter and when he reaches a point in the story where he's uncertain how to proceed, he switches to writing a different book on the other typewriter. The process refreshes him.

I always remembered this bit of advice and as a writer, I found it to be a productive way to do things. I don't own a typewriter but I do have several books in Scrivener and often work on more than one, so it's easy to use the Hutch approach.

Of course, there are times when I'm deeply enmeshed in writing a book and won't pause until it's finished. It seems from the mid-point forward, I tend to work on one book to the exclusion of all others.

But I don't use the Hutch rule only in the narrow sense suggested by the character. I apply the concept widely. For me, switching between any writing-related tasks is helpful. Recently, I wrote here about switching from editing to writing because I felt burnt out. I do this all the time and benefit from the switch itself -- each activity refreshes the other. Moving from task to task seems to sharpen my mind. And it's not just writing and editing I'll switch between. It's editing and thinking, plotting and writing, coming up with new ideas and planning how to publish my books. There are many writing-related tasks, and switching among them seems productive -- at least, it does to me.

Slipping out of one task and into another is like taking a shower after a workout -- it's invigorating. So I am an official member of the Hutch school of writing. It works, and I like stuff that works.

Have you ever gotten a helpful writing tip from a fictional character?

Move ahead any way you can

If I'm not in the right frame of mind to write on a given day, I can still make progress. There is always some aspect of the job I can do.

If I'm editing (as I am today), I'm moving the book ahead. This certainly counts as progress. But if I didn't feel up to editing today, I would work on some other aspect of my books. If I'm deadened from too much editing, for instance, it's probably time to write something new, perhaps that short story I've been thinking about. I find it helps my brain when I juggle between writing and editing. Each gives me energy to pursue the other.

But maybe I"m not up to writing new fiction either. In that case, I might write something for the blog instead. It also represents progress because I need to attract an audience for my books. By blogging, I may be able to build an interested group of readers who will buy my books (when and if I ever get them out the door.)

Or maybe all I can do that day is think, so I put my pens and computer away and direct my mental energy toward coming up with fresh ideas for stories. Perhaps it's the perfect day to figure out a good ending for that pesky but interesting tale in the back of my mind. Or maybe I'll hit the big time and come up with the next big idea for a novel. On such days I'll take anything. It's progress if it moves me ahead, even just a bit.

It's simple: if we don't move ahead we won't reach our goals as writers. For me, no day is allowed to pass without progress. It's my second most important golden rule (right under "Drink Espresso and Open Scrivener".  

So what are your rules for writing? How do you get yourself to produce?

Editing update

I'm almost done with the edit of my first book, The Worlds. Thanksgiving took a big chunk out of my work schedule but I'm back on the case. The edit should be complete within a couple of days. I'm closing in on the last chapter.

Once the editing is done I'm going to write several new scenes for the book. One of my characters is about to have a very strange romance. It's an intriguing idea and I can't wait to paint it onto my screen. Thankfully, it's almost time to get out my scene book to lay out the new terrain. I can't wait.

Writers' tools: a name book

One skill every fiction writer needs is the ability to name characters. The right name can bring a character to life. It should sound fresh and perfect -- and that's not an easy combination to dream up.

My naming skills are fairly pathetic. Just ask my pets. I once had two cockatiels named Chuck and Corky. Those were the best names I could come up with. What can I say? I also had a white one once and called him Blanche. Not bad, what with the gay connotations. But that's about the best I ever did with a pet name. (Full disclosure: I once had a cherry-headed conure named Tallu, and that was a great name. Unfortunately, someone else suggested it; I get no credit.)

So when I started writing fiction and realized I had to come up with names for my characters, I might have felt inadequate. But inadequacy isn't my style. In the first two books, I named characters as they appeared in my sentences. I just typed the first name that occurred to me and that was that. With the exception of one change necessary for clarity, I have never renamed a character. Oddly, in those two books I don't think I did too badly. I like the characters' names that I stumbled upon.

But by the time I wrote the third book, Xmas Carol, I had devised a technique for naming characters. The thing is, I love names. I smile and enthuse over them all the time. In my opinion, names are the best part of TV newscasts. I often marvel at the names that fly across my screen. Some are simply stunning and it's hard to believe they didn't emanate from central casting. They're actually the names were born with!  One night, as I relished yet another fabulous name in a newscast, a simple idea occurred to me.

Thus began the era of my name book, and it has served me well. What I do is this: each time I hear a great name, I write it into a small Rhodia notebook. I don't write down entire names, mind you -- my intention is not to kidnap people's identities and stuff them into my books. I only take half a name.

If I hear a first name I like, I write it in the left column of a page in the name book. If it's a last name, it goes on the right. I don't combine them; I just collect separate piles of first and last names. Then, when it's time to name a character, I pull my name book out and mix and match from the two lists.

I have come up with the coolest names this way. I'm especially fond of the unlikely combinations that result when I mix nationalities. It's a joy to play with this tool, which turns a common writer's burden into a naming festival. It's fun, it's easy and it works.

How do you name your characters?

What have you got to lose?

You hear people say, "I'm going to write that book someday." But no book ever appears. They honestly want to write the book but somehow don't get around to it.

This seems like a tragedy to me. If you have the urge to write -- and especially if you have the talent (or think you do) -- you should do it. What have you got to lose? I say write that book or story or play right now. It's simple: just begin.

Think about it. You could close this browser right now and open your word processing program and start that book. What's to stop you? You have an idea in the back of your mind; you know you do. It's been there forever. So why not take your idea out for a test drive?  Give it a shot: write a part of your book, any part at all. It all begins with a sentence and you know you can do that.

If you never take a chance, if you never write that first line, your idea will remain just an idea. I'm serious when I suggest that you start your book right now. Just think of an angle to approach the story and visualize the first scene that occurs to you. You don't have to know everything about the scene. If you can see its beginning, go for it. Write that first sentence and once you've put a few words down, keep going. Write as much as you can without stopping. 

Just think -- no matter how the writing session goes, when you're done you'll have something to look over, to consider. And you know what? You're already on your way. That's a bit of your book that you're holding in your hand (supposing you printed it). Already your idea has entered the real world. It exists. And if it went well, you may have just written your first scene. (And if you didn't, don't worry. Your writing will improve with practice.)

Sure, you may toss it away in the end, but so what? Once you've written a scene (or even part of one) and stepped into your fictional world, you'll find it soon becomes familiar. You'll feel more comfortable the next time you return to it because it won't be alien territory. You've been there and have something to build on.

Of course, you'll need to think through your book at some point. I don't mean to minimize the work you'll have to put into into it. Everything won't happen in a flash the way this scene will (if you take my advice and try it now). I suggest this method only to jar your mind into seeing your book as a real possibility in your life. If you take my suggestion you may end up saying, "I really can do this. I can write this book!"

That's all it takes: that first step and right away you're doing it. You're writing and it's not just a dream anymore. If you've been fearful about starting your novel, getting through the first day of writing will help to drive away the willies. And I think you'll find that as your fear diminishes, your view of your book will change. You will become more comfortable with your fictional world, and more willing to return to it.

The transition from fearful non-writer to excited writer can happen in a flash. All you have to do is take that first step. I'll say it again: what do you have to lose?

Make sure your characters are consistent

When we first create a character we may not be sure of his, well, character. We introduce him in a scene and decide we're fairly happy with him so he remains in the book. By book's end, we know him so thoroughly that we don't have to wonder what he'd do in a particular situation. We can predict his actions because he's fully formed.

So when we finally read our completed novel, how does this character sound in his early scenes? This is an important question and here's my advice. Be prepared to rewrite your character's early appearances to match your now-seasoned understanding of his makeup. There's a good chance he'll need at least minor touch-ups to make him comport with the personality you've come to know.

It's easy to see this problem in terms of some of your favorite TV shows. Think of a show you love and then consider the first episode of the series. Ask yourself this question: in the premiere episode, were the characters right? In that first episode were they the same characters who appeared in the third or seventh year of the show? For me, and probably for you, it is glaringly obvious when they're not.

Many good writers nail their characters down before they create their shows. Others fine-tune them along the way -- and this happens even in good shows. How many different colors was Data's skin in Star Trek? And how much did Worf's appearance and personality change during the series? Sometimes it's not nailed down beforehand but as fans we forgive the creators of the series. In fact, Data's changing colors are kind of fun to observe (as is the development of his actor's wrinkles).

The best sitcoms don't seem to have this problem. A few do, but not many of the big success stories. The characters are finely honed in the launch episode and they still act the same way five seasons down the road. That's good work on the part of the creators. (Mind you, characters can grow and change; that's not what I'm talking about here.)

You can usually get away with problems of this sort on TV because each episode is a standalone presentation -- but it's not that way with a book. Each chapter is not a new event that will be viewed in isolation. Readers remember. In fact, many readers will devour a whole book in one sitting and they, above all others, will certainly be aware of inconsistencies. There is only one book so we must keep our characters in line.

I hate to rewrite scenes as much as the next guy but it's worth it when you're refashioning a character to make him consistent. Don't hesitate to touch your characters up once you realize who they really are. It's always worth the effort.

Postscript: Scrivener can be very helpful in this regard because you can call up only those scenes in which a particular character appears, allowing you to see all of his or her scenes in one fell swoop no matter where they appear in the book. This is extremely helpful when trying to guarantee consistency in your characters.

The hardest thing about writing

The thing I find most difficult about writing a novel is coming to the end. It's like losing a child. For months, the story has been with me day and night, even in my dreams. As I write a book, in a very real sense I live within the fictional world that I create. I'm so familiar with every aspect of that world; I know its ins and outs. And why wouldn't I? It's been my home for so long.

And then, boom! I write "The End" and it's gone, just a memory. It feels like someone pulled the rug out from under me. This book that I spent every minute of six or seven months with, this wondrous story that so captivated me as I wrote it . . . is over. It's painful.

I think I go into shock after finishing a book, I truly do. I don't know who I am or how to spend my days. I look around and everything seems strange. Things even smell funny.

The thing is, I can't jump directly into the next book because it's not time to write yet. I need to recharge my batteries before launching into the next project. And so for a time I don't write -- and it feels like the end of the world.

During these times I bump into the truth that without writing, I'm lost. It's like breathing to me now, something I need to do every day. The days or weeks between the time I write "The End" and the moment I begin the new book are a bleak time.

But then one day I realize I'm back, I'm recharged and it's time to write another one! And the process begins again, fresh and clean and filled with dreams.