"How to Write Your Novel in Nine Weeks" now available in paperback

Now available in paperback: "How to Write Your Novel in Nine Weeks."

Let a sock puppet named Little Willie and me show you how you can do this. Yes, you. And tell your wanna-be-a-novelist friends. They can do it, too. (Certainly not as well as you, but still ... play nice.)

Buy my book, write your book. Boom. Done.

BIG can be a BIG mistake

Some advice from Little Willie Sockspeare:

Writing a piece to demonstrate your knowledge of a huge and impressive vocabulary is easy. You simply pen: “These are big words that I know: . . .” And then go on to list them.
If, however, your goal is to tell a story well, then you would be smart to avoid letting that huge and impressive vocabulary get in the way of telling the story in a way that your readers can understand it. So that they can even enjoy it without tripping over those impressive words.
I’m not saying to dumb down your work.
I am saying don’t choose a word in some sad attempt to prove how bright you are.
And, naturally, keep your reader in mind. If your piece is for children in middle school don’t use all the more advanced vocabulary words that you might use for a novel directed at adults. This seems obvious, doesn’t it?
So then . . .
Eschew obfuscatory verbiage!

Little Willie is right.

Just keep writing!

The Crash of . . . Symbols

I came across these quotes the other day and really liked them. It's Ernest Hemingway on symbolism in The Old Man and the Sea:

"There isn't any symbolism. The sea is the sea. The old man is an old man. The boy is a boy and the fish is a fish. The shark are all sharks no better and no worse. All the symbolism that people say is sh*t. What goes beyond is what you see beyond when you know."

And:

"No good book has ever been written that has in it symbols arrived at beforehand and stuck in. ... I tried to make a real old man, a real boy, a real sea and a real fish and real sharks. But if I made them good and true enough they would mean many things."

The lesson for you, and me? Don't get caught up trying to cram symbolism into your novel and don't think you can't write a great novel because you aren't able to cram it with symbolism.

Here's Little Willie on that:




Just keep writing.

'But I only write . . . '

It's good to recall the life and work of author Ray Bradbury (who died yesterday at the age of 91) when you fall into the but-I-only-write trap.

But I only write . . . science fiction. Fantasy. Westerns. Romance. Short stories. Poems. Mysteries. And on and on and on.

When it comes to writing, when it comes to your writing, there is no "I only."

Writing is writing. No matter the genre.

I highly suspect those who write so well in one form wish they could write as well in another. The mystery writer would like to pen a fantasy. The fantasy writer wishes she could do a literary novel. The literary novelist would dearly love it if as many people read his work as looked forward to the next children's book about a wizard boy in England.

Writing isn't a one-genre-fits-all talent. The gift you've been given, and are nurturing and strengthening, is uniquely your own, just as that developing (or developed) voice is.

Little Willie and I talk about that in this clip.



Just keep writing.

The View from the Keyboard

Earlier this month the family rented a house and spent four days on the Washington state coast. This was the view from most of the rooms.

Even more amazing, we had four consecutive days of warm, cloudless weather.
At one point I was staring out the window and thinking how great it would be to have my desk and computer right there so that every time I glanced up I'd see...

I knew I was kidding myself. The view would be great but it would just be one more excuse not to write. One more distraction.

That had a familiar ring to it so I rummaged through How to Write Your Novel in Nine weeks and sure enough Little Willie pointed out:

In the same way, you can write a great book without having that “cabin by the lake”—your holy of holies, your retreat, your sanctuary—in which to write it. That’s good news, isn’t it? I assume you’re not at that lake right now. Not looking out the huge picture window to gaze on a vast expanse of lake and forest and . . . . No! Wait. French doors. Looking out those french doors, which are open just a few inches so you can feel the breeze, take in the pine-scented fresh air, listen to the . . .

Blah, blah, blah. If you did own that “perfect” cabin, you’d have to worry about taxes and insurance and a leaky roof and . . . . Does that cabin have indoor plumbing? No? Then you might end up doing some suffering there on a cold, dark night when nature calls and you have to head for the outhouse.

Writing a novel (beginning, middle, and end) means overcoming a lot of distractions. Day after day.

You can do that. And get better at it, day after day.

Just keep writing.

Best of Times, Worst of Times

I've finished my word count for today (about 550) and so I'm feeling pretty chipper. I've been at this long enough to know I do my best work first thing in the morning. It's easiest for me and the writing is better, too.

It may take you a while to discover your best time (and worst time) or you may already know that but just wish it t'weren't so.

Here's what Little Willie had to say about that in How to Write Your Novel in Nine Weeks:

It doesn’t matter if you are a night owl or an early bird. There’s probably a best time of the day for you when it comes to writing. Some writers discover, much to their horror, that they may be night owls but they do their best writing first thing in the (early!) morning. That means while they’re working on a book they have to get to bed earlier than they like in order to get up earlier than they ever wanted to.
Or it might be because of other demands—family, job, life—some writers can’t get to their manuscripts until late in the evening. That’s when the household is finally quiet and they can have that forty-five minutes or an hour to themselves. As you’re discovering, if you didn’t already know, having a block of quiet and uninterrupted time makes a huge difference in your ability to concentrate and write.
True story: When my own family was pestering me in so many ways and I had very little time to myself to work, I’d crack off a sonnet. There! At least I got something done! (“When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes/I all alone beweep my outcast state” . . . in the loo. Really. “Papa! Papa! I have to . . . ” “Give me a minute, Hamnet!” Yes, the little dear’s name was Hamnet.)
Find your time. Find your place. And keep it sacred.

Just keep writing.

Right-Rail Willie

I'm not sure how Little Willie managed to get his Twitter account posted on the right rail of my blog.

However...

His accusing me of sock-puppetism is ridiculous.

Getting Ready

Not writing today? That's understandable. It's a Sunday and a holiday. Still...

It would be easy (and relatively painless) to clean up your writing space a bit and get ready for tomorrow's writing. Five minutes today? Ten? Fifteen at the most? Then tomorrow, ready to go.

Here's what Little Willie says about that:

Week Two, Day 2
LWS: When and Where You Write Best

It probably doesn’t help you much if I say the best place to write is England, unless you’re in England or can easily get there. Probably worse if I say the best time to write is the late-sixteenth and early-seventeenth century, unless you have a time machine.

It’s true that going on a “writer’s retreat” is lovely and having a (paid!) sabbatical can be a delight, but at that retreat spot or on that leave, each day you need a place to write and a time to write. You need those day after day after day because a book becomes a book by a writer working on it day after day after day.

Let’s talk about time first. It doesn’t matter if you are a night owl or an early bird. There’s probably a best time of the day for you when it comes to writing. Some writers discover, much to their horror, that they may be night owls but they do their best writing first thing in the (early!) morning. That means while they’re working on a book they have to get to bed earlier than they like in order to get up earlier than they ever wanted to.

Or it might be because of other demands—family, job, life—some writers can’t get to their manuscripts until late in the evening. That’s when the household is finally quiet and they can have that forty-five minutes or an hour to themselves. As you’re discovering, if you didn’t already know, having a block of quiet and uninterrupted time makes a huge difference in your ability to concentrate and write.

True story: When my own family was pestering me in so many ways and I had very little time to myself to work, I’d crack off a sonnet. There! At least I got something done! (“When, in disgrace with fortune and men’s eyes/I all alone beweep my outcast state” . . . in the loo. Really. “Papa! Papa! I have to . . . ” “Give me a minute, Hamnet!” Yes, the little dear’s name was Hamnet.)

Find your time. Find your place. And keep it sacred. If only for another seven weeks and four days, when your novel will be completed.

Just keep writing!