How to Write a Novel.

I am certain I know how to write a novel.  In fact, I know how to write five novels, the ones on my publication list.  After all, I wrote them and got them published, so, ipso facto, I know how to write them because I did it.

What I don’t know is how to write my next novel.

For sure, I don’t know how you should write your novel.

In fact, I’ll wager no one knows how you should write your unwritten novel, whether it’s your first or your fifteenth.

Yet I have on my bookshelf a dozen books about how to write a novel.  I’ve read them all and gotten something out of each of them.  Some of them even have rigorous “methods” that they insist are the “only” path to successful novel writing.  These methods remind me of the plot to a Roadrunner cartoon.  Wile E. Coyote has a clear goal—eat the roadrunner—and develops an endless set of elaborate strategies to achieve it.  He never sees the anvil about to crush him, or the speeding train about to flatten him, or any of the other calamities headed his way.  His rigid plans limit his imagination and doom him to failure.

If you plan to write a novel, try to not be Wile E. Coyote.

Oh, wait. That’s how not to write a novel.   This is supposed to be about how to write a novel.

The first step is to be sure you want to do it.  When the urge strikes, I recommend you take two aspirin and go to bed.

While you’re in bed hoping a for pill-induced cure, you can spend the time productively by thinking about why you want to write a novel, and what kind of novel you want to write.

There are many and varied reasons for writing.  Fame.  Fortune.  Art.  These are all reasonably good motivators, but they are also elusive.  James Michener once said that writing is a profession where you can make a fortune but not a living.  A tiny minority of authors become wealthy from their works, but the vast majority of authors, even talented authors, barely make a blip on the fame and fortune barometers.  Art is even more elusive, and subjective too, so who knows?

If you’re after fame or fortune, there are better choices, like, say, buying a lottery ticket.  It’s easier and has better odds.

I spent many years as the dean of a graduate college and sat on dozens of Ph.D. committees.  The topics ranged from quantum mechanics to the poetry of Louis Onze, but the one thing all the candidates shared was an overwhelming compulsion to understand their topic. They spent years studying it because this compulsion had taken over their lives. They didn’t have a choice.

Writing is like that.  Writers write because they don’t have any choice about it.  The obsession could be just because you’ve got to write, but often it’s more specific. Sometimes a story keeps you awake nights, thinking about its twists and turns. Sometimes, there are characters yammering away in your head, demanding you write down their tale. Sometimes, it’s because you’ve got a mission: you have to write about something.

So, if you still have the urge to write after taking an aspirin and going to bed, you probably really are stuck with the only other cure, writing.  You may as well write a novel, since it’s easier to get published and in many ways easier to succeed at than short stories.  Easier?  Yes.  But that’s a topic for another newsletter.

Which brings us to the second question: what kind of novel do you want to write?

If your answer is, “the kind of novel that will make me rich and famous,” then you’ve not been paying attention.  Go back, re-read to here, and try again.

There are many ways to think about the kind of novel you want to write.  First, what kind of novel do you enjoy reading?  For me, I love science fiction and mysteries, and I’ve written a couple of novels that combine both genres.  Maybe you like historical novels, or romance, or detective novels.

But your answer about what kind of novel to write doesn’t have to be limited to genre.  Countless novels appear every year that involve loss of innocence.  Perhaps you want to give voice to a social group or cause–that mission thing, again.  Perhaps you’ve dealt with a life event, uplifting or traumatic, and want to reach out to others with a fictionalized account.  Your reasons will be like you: unique.

As with most things, then, the place to start writing your novel is with self-knowledge.  Know why you want to write, and what you want to write, and you’re ready to start writing.  You learn from writing.  You also learn from reading other authors.  Figure out what works and doesn’t in their works.

Should you outline? Probably.  But don’t let the outline be a straitjacket.  Should you create character profiles? Probably, but listen to your characters. The best characters come to life in your head and insist on going their own way.  There are other useful things you can do, but the most important is to write.

While you’re writing, it can’t hurt to read some books about writing.  In fact, they can be inspiring.  But remember the Wile E. Coyote lesson.

Craft matters, although less so in a novel than a short story.  There are many best-selling novels where the first chapter is a difficult slog due to faulty craft, but by the third chapter they become captivating.  I don’t mean to deprecate craft.  On the contrary. It’s important, especially if you want to be published.  But you learn craft by writing, and by having other writers read and critique what you’ve written.  So another “how not to” step in writing your novel is that you shouldn’t do it in isolation.  Feedback—guided feedback—is essential in mastering any craft.  Seek out mentors. An author critique group is an almost essential helpmate for beginning—and even experienced—novelists.

While you learn writing by doing it, you can learn about writing by reading books about writing.  My all-time favorite is The Art of Fiction, by John Gardner.  He starts with a clear theoretical foundation from which he deduces the basic elements of craft.  I admit I like this approach since the logic appeals to me as a mathematician, although he’s careful to provide flexible artistic guidance. Lawrence Block and Stephen King also have written useful guides.  I’ve got a coroner’s guide to fiction where I’ve found useful details about crime scenes.  So, by all means read stuff about “how to write a novel.”  I’ve read a dozen such books and learned something useful from each of them.

But don’t let reading get in the way.

You write your novel, to be sure, but you also discover your novel. Each novel is a unique creation, and the process is likely to be different for each one. That’s why I said no one, even you, can know how to write your unpublished novel. No European knew how to “discover” America before someone did it. They didn’t even know it existed. Your novel is like that, waiting to be discovered.

So, the way to write your novel is…to write it.

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