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It’s time.
So begins the novel-writing process anew.
I’ve written… well, I dunno, six or seven novels by this point, and the last one (translation: the only good one) is held in the tender hands of my agent. Further, I think it’s also in the tender hands of some editors, and to those editors I say: please buy my novel. Don’t make me beg. I’ll weep! I’ll gibber. It’s true. Ask my wife. When I want something, Lord-a-mercy I get annoying. Nobody wants that. Nobody.
Still, that being said, we writers are sharks. Swim forward or drown.
I either need a new book to follow-up the previous, or I need a new book to replace the failure of the first.
Whatever the case, the mission statement is simple enough: write, write, always write.
As a freelancer, this can be tricky to secure the proper time necessary to devote to such a creature. A novel isn’t something you do overnight, and I need to make sure that I am a) fed and clothed and sheltered but b) also devoting the right time to the “long con.” The short con is freelance stuff, and it puts money in my pockets. The long con is investment in my writing future, and entails big projects, and more importantly, personal projects.
Long way of saying, yes, I’m writing another novel.
I start this process today.
This process is nominally a lonely one. I sit here in my office like a troglodyte in his cave. I live in my own head. I live on the screen. I scratch my man-parts. I eat oatmeal and glop it up it in my chest hair. I rage and howl at nobody. I weep into my coffee. I blubber prayer and paeans given to me by some mad god hunkered down in some distant corner of the universe, some lunatic deity wearing my face and also scratching his balls and chowing down on oatmeal amidst the swirls of galaxies and the flash-pop of supernovas.
And that’s all before like, 7:00 AM.
The reality, though, is that I sit here and I mouth off to you poor bastards, I figure, why not keep that tradition going? Why write this thing alone? I’m not in a vacuum. I have you people to keep me company.
You’ll notice now that I’ve duct-taped you all to your chairs. It’s a lot of duct tape. Don’t entertain notions of freedom. I know, you want to leave the house. You want to pee. You want to see your kids. Mm-hmm.
Good one.
People in Hell want sno-cones. I’m just saying. You can’t always get what you want.
But you get what you need. Like that guy who had sex with David Bowie said.
And what you need is for me to drag you along during this process. So, that’s what I’m doing. As I write this thing, I’m going to tell you about it. I’m going to blog the process. Process comes first, and the blogging second, but I figure, maybe we’ll all find this interesting. Or, at the very least, you’ll get to watch me flail around on the floor, my body shellacked with my own waste, stabbing the wall with a pen. That’s gotta be worth something, right? The entertainment value alone is good for a couple ducats.
Thing is, I’m not going to actually reveal what I’m writing. I’ve done that, and I don’t much like it. The details are reserved for the finished product. This will go through revisions both during the writing and after — hence, why talk about stuff that could change? I put something out there — or, out “here” — then it’s effectively available to millions of people. No, I don’t expect millions of people to read it, but the point is, when it’s offered to that broad an audience, whatever I put out there becomes effectively “finished.” I don’t want to reveal the machine until it’s built. Until the gears turn properly, until they gleam with a spit-shine.
I will talk about the process of building that machine, though.
And the process will likely reveal all sorts of craziness. The writing “advice” I dispense here is always for me first, and is stuff I’ve learned or have been challenged by as I write, and so blogging the process will surely reveal more of the same. Expect madness. Expect me railing at the heavens. Expect alcohol.
Oh, and for the record, I don’t consider this a blueprint. Not for you, and not even for me. Every project is its own creature and is beholden to its own rules — each little nugget of advice I offer on this site is a tool in the toolbox and nothing else. You choose the proper tools for the job, but not every job needs a hammer. Not every job needs a wrench, or a dildo, or a pack mule, or a flamethrower, or a cabana boy.
Except, y’know what?
Every job does have one tool.
Every job needs coffee.
Oh! You thought I was going to say, “Every job needs the writer,” or “Every job needs your imagination” or “Ass + Chair = Write” or something like that. Whatever. Fuck that, hombre. Every job needs coffee. Because if Daddy doesn’t get his coffee, Daddy’s going to kill some people. Daddy will cut a dude for a chance to nurse at the caffiene-teat. You try to take away my coffee, you will come away with one less hand.
Anyway, tomorrow, I’ll tell you where I began.
And where I began for this project is: the characters.
Meanwhile, I’ll turn the tables. I’ll throw the question to you, my little love-muffins.
Time for you to give me some writing advice.
Go on. Shout it out. Don’t be shy. School bell rang. Class begins for us all.
About The Author
ChuckWendig
Chuck Wendig is equal parts novelist, screenwriter, and game designer. He is the author of the novels DOUBLE DEAD, BLACKBIRDS, and MOCKINGBIRD. In addition, he's got a metric boatload of writing-related e-books available, including the popular 500 WAYS TO BE A BETTER WRITER. He currently lives in the wilds of Pennsyltucky with wife, dog, and newborn progeny.
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Writing advice? Don’t forget the Ninjas. Every book needs them. And Zombies. Maybe Ninja Zombies. Ninja zombies that cut down/eat sparkly vampires. I can see it now…
Good luck man. Looking forward to your posts.
I think I’m hardly in a position to be giving writing advice to anyone. But it is comforting to see that someone else out there becomes a lunatic while writing. I might not get oatmeal in my chest hair (mostly because I have none), but I’ve ruined more shirts with food at the keyboard than I care to admit. I’ll never understand folks that have to write in public; the men in white coats would have to be called in for all my shouting/crying/laughter.
Oh yes, I will be watching this eagerly. And not just for entertainment. That is gravy.
@Kate:
Some people do very well with writing in public. Gaze, if you will, upon the brilliance of THE GRAVITY OF MAMMON:
http://danielboshea.wordpress.com/the-gravity-of-mammon/
Me, though, I’m too neurotic and too much a control freak to do that again. Tried it, found it worked against me as much as it worked for me.
– c.
Thank God! I am a mess….I start every Monday with the same mantra. This week I am getting my shit together. This week it will all make sense. I have been repeating this to myself since about 6 a.m. this morning – it is now 10:20 that is 4 1/2 hrs of crying, pacing the floor, reams of paper, coffee, more weeping, on and on. This story if brilliant, no, this story is shit.
So…I will faithfully come and pray at the shrine of Chuck everyday, if just to watch you suffer too.
Let my suffering entertain you and offer you solace, then.
Good luck to you, sir. My advice is that you rotate coffee with whiskey. Or…put whiskey in your coffee.
When I want to get any creative juices flowing, I revisit some things that got me interested in creating things in the first place. Once upon a time I was a cartoonist and I would read my favorite Bloom County and Peanuts strips before I got to working. Always set the mood and got me in the right frame of mind. Before a big hockey game I would watch a DvD that I made comprised of some of my favorite goaltenders making some of their biggest saves. I don’t know if Bill the Cat or Ron Hextall will get you in a writing mood…but maybe it’s worth a shot?
You have chest hair?
I’ll never be able to look at you the same way again.
@Julie – it’s the hair that wasn’t quite good enough to become part of his beard.
@Chuck – When in doubt, throw in a slobbering monster attack. Good chance for violence, horror, snappy banter and… wait, am I saying that just because that’s the part of mine I’m writing now? Dammit, I should talk less about myself and more about you to answer your question. I always do that, turning something around to be about me instead of being about you, in fact I remember this one time I…
…shit.
I have two pieces of writing advice, with the second being the most important.
1) Don’t write sucky. If you start to get sucky, stop. Beat yourself with something flexible yet ridged – a giant metal rolly polly would be perfect. Maybe add some barbs. And battery acid. This will teach you not to suck.
2)Finish, and when you do take your finished manuscript and burn it to a disc, and print it out. Then destroy every digital copy of it. And other physical copy. And your diary. Honestly, do you need the diary? Do you really need to go back ten years from now and read your little page with all the hearts and the giant pink “TEAM JACOB” letters? You’re a pussy. You’re a fucking diary-pussy. Put the pen down, Anne Frank. Now take the print-out and disc and mail them to me. Then forget you ever wrote a novel. Then when my new novel comes out, buy it and reflect to yourself how if you were ever to write a novel again, this would be the novel you would write. At that point you are allowed to keep a diary again, with a shrine to me – the only author that gets you.
I am looking forward to reading the process!
Fun-scary Louis and Clark at the outset feeling, ain’t it? The Pacific’s out there somewhere. Betwixt you and it, untraversed plains, hostile natives, soaring moutains, terra incognita. So you gird up yer loins, load up the flatboats and shove off.
Advice? Screw that. Where you’re headed, ain’t nobody else can go. Listen to the voices in your head. They’ll tell you what to do. Let the characters off their leashes. Let ‘em wander off, sniff around. They’ll smell out the story for you and bring it back to camp in chunks. You just gotta make something edible out of it.
Bon appitite!
Dan
No advice here. I’m just a little parasite here to suck any wisdom that can be gained from this experience. Thank you for doing this. I have ideas aplenty. It’s the process that kills me. I’m a process moron. I need to get things from idea to page without losing my sanity, forgetting to pay the bills or walk the dog, or forgetting to go to the day job. In short, I need to learn how to manage writing. But I also need to see how other people get things from point A to point B.
I think I’ve recommended this before. After you’ve got your basics down, do a cover mock-up. You’ve got some graphical skills. Swipe some art, do a spiffy logo, drop a pretentious by-line in there, e.g., “a Transformation by Charles Quijibo Wendig”, print it out, and pin it to your corkboard. Don’t need to be fancy; don’t need to be true. This is for inspiration.
Note: I have no idea what your middle name is, so I’m guessing Quijibo. Or perhaps you use a pseudonym, like, Edumond Dantes Rothschilde, III.
Advice? Set a target word count, and then go 100 words past it. Edit nothing until you’ve walked away. Believe in yourself enough to follow through when you hate it and change it later if the hate lingers, as even the hate will teach you.
Characters? Script it. Just dialogue between two or three. Their personalities will come forth. I know you.
Best of Lucks,
K
Looking forward to reading about your process. It’s oddly comforting when other authors share their thoughts during novel writing.
Except for the ones who are all “OMGZORZ! I’ll DIE if I don’t write every second of my life! It moves my soul when I write about the misty steam glittering in the morning sun as it rises from the pile of dog shit sitting on the cold, hard sidewalk!”
Then they act like rainbows shoot out of their fingers and into the computer the second their ass hits the chair. Ugh.
Sorry, it’s Monday.
Good luck. I started a second novel a few weeks ago meself and so far it is like peeing a soccer ball. I miss the mojo of the first..still we press on eh?
Good characters is a must. I think S.M. Stirling must have gotten in a time machine read “Dudes of Legend” a few years back because all his books seem to feature a lesbian ninja. One has an African American lesbian ninja pirate.
I knew this was the day. It was the stars… the stars revealed it.
I have high hopes that I’ll be able to get back into my novel after the move. I’m concerned that leaving Atlanta will throw it off (as it’s set in Atlanta), but what do I know? Maybe some distance will make it work suddenly.
Much luck to you, sir. Thought I doubt you’ll use anything so crass as luck to get it done.
Two words: Shih Tzus
Pant, pant, pant. Whoo, been out of the office all day (planning, he says as he rubs his hands cruelly together, MOO HOO HAA HAA), and I come back and see awesomeness from all corners and comers.
Well done.
@Michelle: Rainbows do not shoot out of my fingers, but my nipples.
@Keith: Target word count is no problem — now, though, I’m in the formative stages. The arrangement-of-elements stage. The word count will come, but not immediately, methinks.
@Justin: I love the idea of mocking up a cover, because that cover could reinforce theme and what not — but I fear it’d be something I could waste a lot of time on, and further, my Photochop-fu won’t quite get me to where I really want. Better for the mockup to wait, I think?
@Dan: The voices in my head are telling me to perform unspeakable acts in the name of nameless of gods. Are you sure I should listen to those voices? ‘Cause I’ll do it. (The territory between here and there is untamed, but I plan on going in with weapons sharpened first, lest the natives and Sasquatch have me for dinner.)
– c.
@Julie: As I am not a sexless android, I have chest hair. It yearns to have a gold medallion placed amongst its nettles.
– c.
@Paul:
Bloom County ain’t a bad read to get my funny juices going, honestly. This project won’t be that funny, though, but it is worth looking for the things that will get me in the right frame of mind. Music, what-not.
Man, I miss Bloom County.
– c.
Writing advice?
My word processor might as well be the big rock from 2001. So, you’re not pulling anything good from these grey meats.
If you clamped scorpions to my nipples and demanded to hear something wise, here goes. It’s okay to get up and pee once in a while.
We all do it. You’re lost in a thought, furiously pounding the keyboard like you’re playing multi-touch whack-a-mole, and you forgot that you had to piss an hour ago. This game of man versus bladder continues until you hear a pop from the fleshy hose reel that is your abdomen. That’s your humanity failing and it’s the dividing line between Chuck the stud and Chuck “how did I run out of diapers again” Wendig.
So, go take a piss when you need to. The page will still be there when you get back.
Writing advice: Add a lovable pug sidekick into the story who solves crimes while wearing an enchanted hunting cap once owned by SHERLOCK HOLMES.
Ignore me at your own peril!!!
Good luck! And I agree, no coffee and somebody gets hurt.
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Playlist. It’s a timesuck, but once you have it going (not perfect, but a working version), it’ll throw you into the mood with no effort.
I’m a pre-plotter, so I recommend that. I’m getting to the point where I highly recommend selecting representative people to be your ideal audience, which is kind of a “well, duh,” but I do tend to learn from experience.
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