A BOY FROM NORRU is finished and clean. I’ve completed several drafts, and I’ve gone through rounds of beta readers. Revisions upon revisions have been made, but the manuscript is done. I am confident that I cannot improve upon the narrative any further for the time being. Of course, a literary agent or acquisitions editor would likely have plenty of advice on how to make the story even better. I hope that I get the opportunity to receive such advice.
As such, I have begun the process of querying literary agents. The process is difficult and sometimes draining. I’ve revised my query letter and synopsis as many times as I’ve revised the manuscript itself. The work never seems to end, but I’m extraordinarily grateful to have the opportunity to send out that work. Only time will tell whether or not the manuscript sparks any interest. Until then, I will keep at it.
Some weeks ago, a composer friend of mine approached me about working with him as a librettist. He wants to put up an opera at his university, and he wants me to write the text. I’ve already completed a first draft. When I’m done with the querying process, I’ll get feedback on the current draft of the opera, and I’ll start on the next. I’m very excited to see where this project goes.
And if I don’t see any positive responses from agents by the time I’m done working on the opera, I’ll probably start on another manuscript. I have more ideas than I do time to write, and I’m eager to get more of them on the page. In the meanwhile, I’ll continue to attend meetings in both of my writing groups. Over time, I’ll likely bring in more of A BOY FROM NORRU to these meetings, and I’ll see if time and perspective give me inspiration for improvements.
Currently, I’m reading Rhythm of War by Brandon Sanderson. I haven’t read any Sanderson in a year and a half; it’s nice to return to Roshar. Once I finish the fourth installment in The Stormlight Archive, I’ll be caught up on the series, and I’ll be able to participate more actively in the fanbase. Plus, I’ll be ready for the late 2024 release of Knights of Wind and Truth. After this book, I have several middle grade novels queued up. But there’s also so much contemporary adult fantasy that I want to read. So much to read, so much to write, but so little time! That’s the constant dilemma.
The world of literature is an exercise in patience.
Ah, but I love it. And I’ve grown so much as a result from it. As usual, the plan for the next month is to keep on reading and keep on writing. The only thing that changes is what I’m reading and writing. Here’s to waiting, and here’s to hoping.
– AJG
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Any one story is made up of many ideas. I keep track of all of my setting, character, and plot ideas, and I allow them to coalesce. Only then can I decide where to begin. But where do these ideas come from? How can you reliably come up with story aspects that excite you and are worth exploring? The answer isn’t easy.
The more you try to force creativity, the more creativity retreats. Inspiration can be coaxed out and encouraged, certainly. But to sit down and try to summon worthy ideas to the mind is a futile effort. If you remain open to the appearance of ideas, however, you may notice when one peeks their head above the surface of the waves.
Ideas come from experience. The sound, the noise of the world. All of the information that passes through us on a daily basis affects our thoughts to some degree. Therefore, in an increasingly noisy world where every media outlet seeks to capture every second of our attention, we must be mindful of which sounds we listen to. Ray Bradbury encourages the pursuit of ones loves and “an ever-roaming curiosity” in order to feed one’s muse.
As Natalie Goldberg says, though, “it takes a while for our experience to sift through our consciousness.” Our experiences, then, must be given time to compost. After sufficient time, distance, and reflection, we achieve a perspective from which you can write about those experiences.
Creativity works this way for me. I immerse myself in sound, which is no difficult task. The hard part is choosing the right ones. The right people, the right environments, the right movies, plays, books, podcasts. Social media accounts, even. If the noise of Instagram and Twitter are inescapable for you, you may as well curate the apps so that they benefit you in some way.
What I find far, far harder, though, is achieving silence. The world seems to work against our entering silence. Many of our minds, my own included, have been programmed to seek the instant hit of dopamine provided by our phones. Always in our pocket, always just a few taps away.
But the silent space is sacred. For this is the space where I might spot an idea, that rare and delicate creature, from my periphery. Moments of silence can come in all forms. It doesn’t just need to look like meditation, though I have found success there. It can look like sitting in a waiting room without looking at my phone. Studying the artwork on the walls and letting my mind wander. It can look like going to the grocery store alone in sweatpants. It can look like a drive home without music, whether that drive is five minutes or five hours.
Silence can be big, small, long, or short. No matter what form it takes, value can be found. As long as you’re paying attention.
Find time for the noise. Find time to get away from it. But most of all, and I would do well to be reminded of this every day, don’t try to force the experience. If try to force it, then you’re certain to miss even a whale of an idea.
– AJG
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Outliners, otherwise known as architects or plotters, plan the entirety of their story ahead of time. Discovery writers, otherwise known as gardeners or pantsers, find their story through the writing process. I wrote an article fleshing out these ideas in more detail, which you can read here. In that article, I concluded that most people fall somewhere in a spectrum between the two identities. These concepts should function as tools to find what works best for you, even if your strategy wouldn’t work for someone else.
After much experimentation and tweaking, I’ve settled into a process that works best for me. Although I’ve maintained this same set of strategies for a while now, I’ve only recently thought to take pen to paper (so to speak) and clearly define every step. I haven’t heard or read of anyone that uses these exact same methods, although I’m sure plenty of people do.
What follows is a description of what works best for me. Determining my position in the spectrum between outlining and discovery writing helped me find my personal practice, but please note that my methods may not work for you.
1. Outlining and Worldbuilding
Before I pen a single word of my story, I always create two documents. The outline defines the major plot beats of the actual story, and it gives a preliminary glance at the struggles of the key players involved. The worldbuilding document focuses on setting alone. I could write an entire separate article, and probably will, about the strategies I use to create each of these.
Sometimes the worldbuilding comes first, sometimes the outline does. To use my most recent project as an example, I started worldbuilding for A BOY FROM NORRU a solid three months before I started outlining. I had an idea for several settings and several factions, but I didn’t have a story to tell in that galaxy yet. Later, separate character and plot ideas coalesced, and I realized that they would fit perfectly into the galaxy I’d created previously.
But the key point for each of these documents is that I do not get overly detailed. Or, if I do, I don’t remain too attached to anything. More on this in the next section.
2. Beginning the Story
I have my plot, character, and setting ideas. With those settled, I don’t need to worry about my brainstorming time bleeding into my writing time. I pick the latest moment that I could begin my story, and I start there. I don’t stop to edit; I can just go.
However, since neither of my preparatory documents were too set in stone, I still have room to explore. If I feel a character trying to move in another direction, I can allow them that, even if it feels antithetical to my overarching plot goals.
I write and write and write until the scene is done, or the chapter, or I get tired. And then, I move on to step three.
3. Back to the Drawing Board
Now, we’re back to the strategies of the outliners. To use the example from the last step, say I’ve let my character stray from the plot. Now that my writing time is over, I can take time to critique. What puzzle pieces can I connect to bring the character back to the plot? Or what plot changes need be made to accommodate for this character?
This phase usually takes place during the latter half of my work day, or when I’m on a walk, working out, cooking, and so on. I solve issues, continue fleshing out the story in my head, and connect dots that I would never have seen before beginning the writing process.
And then, I write some more.
4. Repeat, Repeat, Repeat
I flit back and forth between writing time and brainstorming time until the first draft is done. At that point, I begin the editing process, which is easier for the fact that I have a more polished first draft than would a traditional discovery writer.
There you have it. I switch between the outliners’ strategy and that of the discovery writers’. Outliners do most of their non-writing work on the front end. Discovery writers do it on the back end. What makes my process unique from others that I’ve seen is that I do most of my non-writing work in the middle, alongside the writing itself.
Benefits and Dangers
My writing process does have one major pitfall to be avoided. To employ these strategies, one must be entirely committed to separating writing time and brainstorming time. Allowing the latter to bleed into the former can significantly hinder progress, especially if one has never finished a manuscript before. The common advice of “just write” is intended to help beginning novelists form a writing practice. And if one adopted the methods I’ve described before developing that practice, one might get too hung up on making every word perfect rather than finishing their story. This pitfall can only be avoided if one is entirely committed to turning off their critique voice when it’s time to write.
Fortunately, there are many benefits to this practice, too. I’ve found that my first drafts are significantly more polished now than those I’ve written in the style of discovery writers. Yet I don’t have to wait as long as outliners to get to the fun bit, which is actually writing the story. Plus, I really enjoy daydreaming about what comes next in my story while I’m doing other things.
If you think that this process may work for you, try interspersing periods of plotting, brainstorming, worldbuilding, and editing between your writing times. Try switching between your gardener brain and architect brain. Tweak and refine, and soon, you’ll find what works best for you, and you’ll have a writing process that’s uniquely your own.
– AJG
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As I polish the final draft of my current manuscript, I am assembling query material. Thus, when I feel the book is completely finished, clean, and compelling, I’ll be ready to send it out straight away. I’ve read a few books on literary agents and querying in the last few weeks. From these, I’ve gleaned a whole lot of knowledge. Some of what I read should’ve been obvious, but without someone to share it with me, I likely would have made rookie mistakes. In this article, I’ll share three tips I learned from my reading.
Please note that I have never been agented. As such, I have chosen only to share tips that I feel qualified to speak on. There are many schools of thought when it comes to the minutiae of querying agents, but I will not speak on these more contested matters. For further reading, check out this book on querying and this book on agents, both written by Writer’s Relief. I also found some interesting tidbits in this short book by an advertising executive.
1. Take Your Time
You’ve spent months or years working on your novel. You’ve agonized over it to make sure that it cannot be improved upon. And now, you’re ready to share it with the world.
Unfortunately, it takes a long time to get an agent, even longer for them to sell your book to an acquisitions editor, and even longer for the book to go to print. So take a deep breath, and keep patient for a while longer. When it comes to writing novels, patience is the name of the game.
So don’t rush writing your query letter. You’ve spent so much time working on your book. Why would you undercut that hard work with a lackluster query letter? Take your time, and write the best query letter you possibly can for every agent you query. Have your friends and family read over it, just like they did your novel. And only when you can’t improve on your letter any more should you send it.
2. Read Guidelines Carefully
Put yourself in the shoes of a literary agent for a moment. You receive a hundred (or more) emails a day from writers who wish to find representation. From this slush pile, you need to pick out the very few who may be a good fit with you. But you’ve got to get through dozens and dozens of queries from those who aren’t right for you first.
So what do you do? Whenever you open a new query, you scan the document to see if there’s any reason to reject it immediately. As a writer, this may feel harsh. But as an agent, it just makes sense.
One big reason an agent might reject your query outright is if you don’t follow instructions. Literary agencies tend to be very specific in their requests. When you query an agent with a manuscript that’s too long or short for your genre, or an agent who doesn’t represent your genre, or include the wrong material, you decrease the odds of getting an agent to read your work.
Read every agent’s query guidelines thoroughly, and follow them. Don’t get rejected before you even have a chance to make a pitch.
3. Trust Your Gut
As I mentioned before, much of the querying process has become standardized, but on some matters, there are different schools of thought. What’s more, different projects or different agents might call for different sorts of pitches. Ultimately, you know your situation and your book best. So think things through from every angle, but trust your gut when you get stuck. For example, my current manuscript’s greatest strength is its pacing and its brevity. Therefore, I’ve chosen to focus on the same aspects in my manuscript. Another book might require a longer query letter. But mine moves quick, as does my novel.
Keep these tips in mind, and keep working. With a whole lot of patience and luck, you’ll eventually stand out from the crowd.
– AJG
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And so, we come to the close of the first month of the year. To you, dear reader, I give my hopes that January has proven everything you desired.
My beta readers have given me further feedback on A BOY FROM NORRU, and I’ve made some final touch-ups. I’ve also read a few books on literary agents and writing query letters, so I’m coming to the query process with a more solid foundation than ever before. I’ve drafted query letter after query letter, and I finally have a clean template that pops. As for my synopsis, I’m coming close to a final draft, but it still needs some touching up.
Aside from working on queries and continuing my reading in the middle grade space, I’ve also been doing copywriting work. I’m learning a lot from practicing this form and from studying an extraordinarily useful copywriting textbook. The skills I’ve gained here have also helped in writing queries. But most importantly, I find the work quite fulfilling. Like writing novels, there’s a satisfying puzzle-solving aspect to it.
What’s more, I’m exploring the world of grant writing, in case that is a route I want to pursue. The course I’m taking is somewhat lackluster, but I hope to have a broad knowledge of the field by the time I finish. My main goal is to know whether or not I’d be happy doing this kind of work, and to have a decent idea of where to start. I think this course will at least provide me that.
And I’m pursuing a couple of other job opportunities in the meanwhile. We shall see if anything comes of those.
Overall, I’m doing a lot. And I’m taking all the right steps for me right now. Sometimes, it’s difficult to see the fruit of my burdens. But I am committed to inching closer to my goals and making progress one day at a time.
– AJG
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You could read 50,000 words every day for the next ten years, and you’d only scratch the surface of the literary world. You’d be well-read by anyone’s standards, sure, but there would still be so much left to read. There are so many books. And many people don’t have over three hours a day to spend on reading. Even more people, I would contend, don’t have the patience to read for three hours every single day.
Yet in spite of this, we feel that we should be well-read. That we have no excuse for not having read the classics from War and Peace to The Count of Monte Cristo to East of Eden. Plus the pop psychology books being shared on social media, like Atomic Habits. Plus the works being adapted to television as of late. Fire and Blood, The Golden Compass, The Eye of the World, The Silmarillion, Foundation, and the list goes on.
We know reading is good for us. We know its something smart people do, and we consider ourselves smart people. It’s something we always say we will do as soon as we have the time to get around to it.
But maybe we start a book, and we’re able to focus for all of fifteen minutes before our phone distracts us. That’s okay. That’s a totally fine starting point. It doesn’t feel that way, though. We’re smart; we used to read a book a day back in elementary school. Never mind that we had fewer responsibilities, and never mind that those books used significantly less complex language than the ones we’re trying to read now. We’re adults, and we should be able to do this. In fact, we already should have done it, so the task should get done quickly and easily.
When it doesn’t, we get discouraged and abandon reading entirely.
Psychologically, it’s like the debtor who won’t start paying off loans because the small payments they can make feel like too little. So they let the debt continue to pile up rather than chipping away at the issue.
In our case of reading, though, the “debt” is entirely imagined. We don’t owe anyone any amount of words. We don’t have to have a deep knowledge of the entire literary canon to be an avid reader. Nor is intelligence contingent on reading alone. Yes, books can whet the mind and can teach so much, but there are other qualifiers that make someone smart.
We are not “lesser than” if we don’t read as much as we’d like.
And as soon as we accept that, the pressure disappears. Reading becomes enjoyable rather than a chore. We can be present, and we can chip away at our reading list one book at a time. It won’t matter how long it takes because the process is a delight. It becomes habit, and soon, we’ve read so much that we could pay off all our reading debt.
Except the debt never existed in the first place.
– AJG
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That’s what my mom tells me when I’m feeling overwhelmed. I don’t know if it’s good practice for firefighters, but it’s sage advice otherwise.
In a nation where wages don’t keep up with inflation, the job market grows more competitive by the day, and political systems feel broken beyond repair, it’s easy to want to throw in the towel. Even on a more myopic level, the stress of paying bills, doing house chores, going to work, getting sleep, finding time to relax, and maintaining a social life can feel debilitating. But you’ve made it through every period of stress in your life so far. And when you’re on the other side of the problem, it doesn’t seem so bad.
How can we make it seem less bad on the front side of things? When projects are looming overhead, how can we remain calm and see life’s struggles for what they are–surmountable?
Put out the closest fire first. Focus on the problem at hand, and take care of it. Then, move on to the next one. Rather than focusing on the whole scope of the situation, break it down piecemeal. Do you feel like this school year will never end? Don’t focus on getting through the year. Get through the day. Do you wish you were more well-read? Don’t focus on all the books you haven’t opened. Finish one chapter of one book. Do you feel like your book will never get written? Don’t focus on writing the book. Write a page.
Finding a career in writing takes consistent time and effort over the course of years. You have to write a lot of bad stories before you figure out how to write a good one. That barrier to entry is enough to scare away a lot of would-be authors. And the constant grind, the constant doubt, is enough to discourage those who are almost there. The key to staving off hopelessness is focusing on the day-to-day rather than the broad scope.
I’ve not mastered this present-minded thinking at all; I’ve struggled with it my whole life. I’m an anxious person. And I’m writing this article as much to share wisdom as a reminder for myself.
I’ve been in my own head a lot lately. Thinking about my desired future and how much I need to do to get there. Thinking about all that’s uncertain between then and now. And I’m reminded of another time I was stuck in my own head.
I once vacationed to Colorado with close friends. On paper, we had a wonderful experience. But due to unfortunate developments in my personal life, I was often preoccupied. One day, we sat on a lovely outdoor patio with a gorgeous view. And as I ate my meal, I agonized over the future for the millionth time. Over what decisions I could make and what paths they would lead me down. I agonized to the point where it was unhelpful.
A friend of mine listened politely, and when I was done, he said, “This is going to sound harsh, but I mean this in the most loving way. We’re on vacation. You need to shut up and look at the mountains.”
So remember to shut up and look at the mountains. Put out the closest fire first. And take life “bird by bird.”
– AJG
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Two weeks ago, I wrote about the ideas that coalesce to make a story. In that article, I contend that a single story must be many separate ideas, each independently worth exploring. One should therefore keep track of their plot, character, and setting ideas and think to combine them in interesting ways.
However, where does a story begin? How does one start with nothing but a blank page and end up with The Stormlight Archive? Or, more broadly, where does any piece of writing begin?
I create my strongest works when I start with two questions: who, and why?
First and foremost, who am I writing for? A story for middle grade readers will on average be shorter and more action-packed than one for adult readers. The protagonist will also be much younger.
If I’m writing an essay, what demographic am I trying to reach, and what assumptions can I make about their beliefs? I’ll have an easy time convincing indie authors that Audible needs to provide better deals for their creators. I may have a harder time convincing Amazon executives of this. Which brings me to my second question.
Why am I writing this piece? Most of the time, there’s more than one answer. For someone in my position, one of the answers should always be, “to learn and improve in my craft.” But am I writing a story because I want to see it published and attain commercial success? In that case, I might research market trends and see what’s been successful of late.
–There’s nothing wrong with this, by the way. To go on a quick tangent, I think many young artists believe they must create without regard for popular culture. That if they take into account market trends, they’re unoriginal and derivative. Not so. This took me too longer to figure out. I can write a story with aspects of recently successful stories and write the story I want to tell. There’s overlap there. End tangent.–
If I identify my purpose before I begin writing, or at some point in my writing, everything I write afterwards will be informed by that knowledge. And when I go back to edit, I can ask myself, does this paragraph support my goal the best it could? If not, I know that I must change that.
Identify your who, and identify your why. This will provide a target for which to aim and a shape within which to work. You can then start to fill that shape with your ideas that you’ve so carefully documented on loose scraps of paper around the house and where did I put them, I could’ve sworn I left them in this drawer, and–ah! there they are. Wait, why does this one just say, “carrot protagonist?”
As with all things, your answers to these questions may change as you work. Even if they do, and even if that adds more work to your plate, remain aware of that. You’ll end up with a stronger piece of writing for your efforts.
– AJG
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I finished the second draft of A BOY FROM NORRU on December 17, 2022. Shortly thereafter, I distributed copies of the manuscript to a handful of beta readers. The feedback I’ve received has been largely positive thus far. As I suspected, the story’s greatest strength is that it moves. It’s action-packed and holds the reader’s attention.
Obviously, it’s not ready for querying yet. I’ll need to take some space from the manuscript before I can return to polishing. But since it seems I won’t need to rework any major story elements, I won’t need to take as much space from the project as I originally thought. I’ll wait for all my beta readers to finish, hear their opinions, and get back to work. In the meantime, I’ll start drafting query material.
Since I’m currently taking space from this manuscript, I’d like to talk about something else in this progress update. Last year, I read 27 books. That number would be higher, but I’m a bit of a slow reader (I like to take my time and catch all the little details). Moreover, epic fantasy books take a long time to read.
I read a lot of middle grade last year, since I’m writing middle grade. Some of those books were absolutely incredible, but one in particular that stood out above the rest.
The Thief Lord by Cornelia Funke (2000).
Oh man, I could not put this book down. I don’t think I experienced just-one-more-chapter syndrome so acutely since childhood.
This is the story of two runaway brothers, Prosper and Bo, who are being pursued by a private detective. By chance, they fall in with other vagrant children led by Scipio the Thief Lord. The band of orphans is offered an incredibly high-paying job, but as secrets are revealed, everything starts to fall apart. And with the detective hot on their tail, the odds are stacked against them.
The book takes place in Venice, Italy, and the setting acts as a dynamic character of its own. The city’s ancient beauty provides a colorful backdrop for the suspense.
The story unravels so beautifully. It’s exciting and inspires awe, but it’s also grounded and real. I won’t say any more, for I don’t want to spoil too much of the magic. But I cannot recommend this book enough. It is precisely the kind of book I want to write, and that much is clear in A BOY FROM NORRU.
Happy New Year, and happy reading!
– AJG
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A great idea does not make a great novel. In fact, it takes several ideas to make a single novel. I may come up with a deeply immersive setting, but without a nuanced characters to explore it, I won’t hold a readers attention. I’ll also need to send these characters into conflict and develop that conflict in interesting ways. These are the ingredients of a story: plot, setting, and character. And almost every good novel has multiple ideas for each of those elements.
Epic fantasy novels have a whole world to flesh out, and they have plenty of pages to do so. Naturally, this requires dozens of ideas worth exploring. You can’t write thousands of pages about a world if you don’t have the ideas to populate it. But even if you’re not writing The Wheel of Time(4 million words across 14 books), you still need more than one idea.
Let’s look at a shorter book. Coraline by Neil Gaiman clocks in at roughly 30,000 words, and is technically considered a novella. Yet we have so many ideas here. We meet plethora of characters, each compelling in their own unique way. Like retired actresses Miss Spink and Miss Forcible, who put on shows for an audience of Scottish Terriers.
Although the main plot conflict resides between Coraline and Other Mother, we have subplots, too. Such as that of the ghost children, who cannot pass on without getting their souls back.
Even the house, which acts as the setting for pretty much the entire book, is many ideas rolled into one. In the real world, the house is boring and acts as a catalyst to get Coraline searching for adventure. In the Other World, the house is a trap, designed to lure Coraline closer to the beldam.
So if you want to write a novel, you’ll need more than one idea. Maybe you want to write a story in a post-apocalyptic, flooded Earth. That’s interesting, but you’ll need an equally and independently interesting protagonist to carry us through this world.
Maybe you also had a separate idea; you want to write a story about a girl with a sweet tooth and an aversion to social situations. You didn’t imagine her in a flooded world, but that’s okay. Put her there anyway, and see what happens. She’ll have a hard time finding candy if she doesn’t venture out into the high seas. And she won’t survive for long out there without a crew, which means she’ll have to deal with people. Already, we’ve got conflict.
Our plot might follow the sweet-tooth captain as she assembles a crew to track down an abandoned candy factory. But we’ll need interesting characters to fill out that crew, and interesting places on our flooded Earth for them to visit. You get the picture.
We don’t want to go overboard (ha, nautical pun) with ideas, though. To some extent, the amount of ideas should be proportional to our word count. Don’t include so many ideas that you don’t explore any of them in depth. But I more often found my early stories lacking strong ideas than overfilled with them.
The actionable takeaway is this; allow your many wonderful ideas to coalesce. Keep track of all your character, plot, and setting ideas. Find places to insert those ideas to drum up interesting situations where otherwise you might’ve felt lost or bored. And most of all, explore the ideas that excite you. Your excitement will keep you writing, and the more you write, the more you improve.
– AJG
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