I’m currently working on Mark Park and the Flume of Destiny. It’s the third book in my series, The Future Next Door, and it is also, not coincidentally, the third book I have ever written.
Writing is a skill, of course, and like any skill, you get better at it the more you practice it. My first book, Alan Lennox and the Temp Job of Doom, took me just about a year to write, from first word to publication. I learned a lot as I was writing it – both from the act of writing itself, and from actually studying the craft of writing by reading what other, smarter writers than me had to say – and by the time I was finished with the first draft, I realized I needed to go back to the top and do some pretty serious revisions. It was a long process, but worth it in the end. It’s a good book.
The second book, Caitlin Ross and the Commute from Hell, came a lot easier. Not easy, just easier. It took about seven months in all. Less time because I had figured out that I’m a plotter – I need to break the story down before I start to write, not figure it out as I go along. This resulted in the first draft needing far fewer revisions. It was even more fun to write than the first book had been, and I think it shows in the end result. It’s a better book.
I say I started working on Mark Park a few weeks ago, but really, I started it at the same time I started Caitlin Ross. After I finished the first book, I plotted out all three of the remaining installments in the series – there’s an overall story building, and I had to know where I was going in order to know how to get there. So I had a blueprint in front of me when I actually sat down to write book three.
But…but but but. Something was off. Writing when I got home from work was becoming a chore to be dreaded instead of the best part of my day. I pushed through, telling myself I was just hitting a wall, I was tired, I was cranky, I needed to be changed, anything except admitting there was something wrong with what I was writing. I got through six chapters before I realized that the book just wasn’t going to work. The book I had plotted would not be a good book, let alone a better book. It would be a bad book.
So I threw it all away. All my meticulous plotting. All those weeks of work. Even the few little bits I liked. Once I beat my ego into submission and admitted that I was doing bad work, and gave myself permission to let it go, I was able to see more clearly what was wrong. And then I fixed it.
Tonight I finished my second take on the plot breakdown, and I’m bouncing up and down in my chair with excitement. I know it’s good. And I can’t wait to start writing again.
