I Wrote A Book. Now What?

Some thoughts on writing my (first) first draft, and what’s next

Hello there. This post is the second in what is becoming a real-life side-plot here at Attempts To Tell The Truth, which is my heroic quest towards completing my first book. You can check out Part One here.

My friends, I did it. A little over six weeks since announcing I’d begun a long form project, a first draft of it has been written. It clocks in at about 20k words, so I can finally, confidently say that the project will be a novella.

I started this with no expectations at all, only a wish to see it through, in any way it would want to come through.

It took me two months from idea to first draft. But how much actual drafting did I do in that time?

Matter of fact, how did I even get from there to here?

I used something that’s called the snowflake method. This is very new to me, as I’m not an outliner, or at least have never been until this point, but this new approach was crucial.

As I mentioned in the first post, I’ve tried writing books before, twice, and both times I quit around the same time (after the first ten thousand words) and for the same reason (I didn’t know what was supposed to happen next).

Let me tell you what the snowflake method is, and then you’ll see how it solved these problems.

The concept is simple. Think of how a snowflake is formed.

It all starts with a speck of dust, enveloped in a droplet of water. That droplet freezes, encasing the piece of dust in a hard shell. From there, it branches. Several main branches form, then those split apart as well, and side branches swell forth. Like the mythical dragon with multiple heads, who replaces each head you cut with two more. Thus, from a measly speck of dirt is born a masterpiece of natural architecture.

It’s easy to see how well that concept translates to the written word. In many ways, it feels as natural as breathing.

You start with a sentence that describes your story. You’ll have to wait a little bit more to hear mine, but suffice it to say that I didn’t have a clear idea of anything but a very barebones central thread to start with. A main character, a tragic action, and an obstacle. A meowing, purring obstacle.

Then, I turned this sentence into a full paragraph. I expanded the tragic action into a series of actions, I added a few characters, and topped it off with an interesting antagonist.

After this, and before I got to making a full list of scenes (what I’d call my final outline), I stepped aside to create fleshed-out profiles for the characters that arose during the process. I filled in their birth years, their backstories, their physical appearances, some of their likes and dislikes.

I thought the list of scenes would be where I’d hit a snag, but it wasn’t so. I wrote a ten-page outline, moving the story from a clear beginning to an eventual ending (one that may or may not make it to the final version).

This done, I took a deep breath. Only then did I start my first draft.

The actual writing, as I say, took about a month. I won’t lie to you, it was scary. It was scary to turn a decent outline into a potentially shitty hundred pages that I might have to throw away. For a few days, I procrastinated. I lay in bed, enjoyed the summer laziness, went to the beach, watched Hunter X Hunter. I couldn’t read, not without comparing my as-yet unborn work to the ones already perfected by masters.

At some point, I sat my butt down and began. I didn’t stop, not for a single day, until I was done. I averaged about 800 words every day. This month was perhaps the hardest 30 consecutive days I’ve had since I began writing. My heart went through a cocktail of feelings, from fear to disappointment to bitterness to joy to elation to numbness to disgust to disinterest to pride. Every single piece of writing advice I was ever given has been of some use.

These are five that have helped the most:

—Don’t stop. Not for anything.

—Be comfortable with Anne Lamott’s idea of the “shitty first draft”.

—Don’t think further into the future than the next day’s words.

—Every single negative voice in your head is bullshit. You know that because every other writer hears similar things in their head, and they’re mostly untrue. So why would they be true for you? Statistically, it makes no sense.

—Know your characters inside and out. When you’re stuck, this is what will get you going again.

What also helped was this outline. I truly can’t overstate how important planning has been to getting me to a first draft. I basically knew the start and endpoints, along with a few well-placed checkpoints along the way. All that was left to discover was the heart of my characters.

So now, thanks to tenacity and all the writers that came before, I have a first draft.

Question is, what’s next?

The second draft. Duh.

And what is a second draft, exactly?

I’m about to find out.

To start, I read the book again like a reader might, with no purpose other than enjoyment and a wish to feel.

I now have an inkling of what’s missing, and what doesn’t quite work. I’ll be honest, it’s a lot.

And now I feel afraid again. But it’s not the same kind of fear that came for my throat a month ago. This time, I’m buoyed up by the fact that I’ve done it. I’ve actually finished a first draft! That’s why I know I’ll probably finish this second draft as well. I’m already on the boat, might as well keep paddling till I reach some shore.

I’ve got lots of edits to make, from the macro to the micro, and I’m feeling overwhelmed. This is really something I’ve never done before.

Damn if it isn’t exciting, though. I’m attached to these characters in a way I never thought possible. I know everything about these people, and I want to do them justice.

I can’t wait for the world to see what I’ve done. Unfortunately, the world will have to wait a little longer.

And by world, I mean you.

—A.

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