Well, fear not. You can’t be in this industry as long as I have without picking up a trick or two or five. Whether it takes you ten years, or you’re looking to write your next great novel in twenty-minute sprints while your baby naps, or you have all the time in the world, here are five tips that can help anyone get through that dreaded first draft.

1. Embrace the Weird

I list this first because it is the most important step. The number one thing that stops writers from even getting started with a first draft is the fear that their idea is “too out there.” “Nobody will read this.” “It’s weird.” 

Stop that right now. 

The best books in literary history would sound too weird or implausible on paper. A killer clown harassing a bunch of kids into adulthood? A serial killer who lives in a family’s walls? A magical chocolate factory? A little girl with psychic powers who devours books to escape her toxic family? 

If a publisher heard some of these elevator pitches, they would have told the author to take a hike. And indeed, there are about a million ways some of these concepts would have turned out incoherently. But it’s the execution that makes all the difference.

So, if you have an idea—whatever it may be—set aside the fear that nobody will want to read it, and ignore the eyebrow raises or indifferent shrugs you get when you excitedly relay it to your spouse or friend circle. 

The truth is that all you have right now is the idea, and once you start writing, you’ll be hit with ideas that you hadn’t even considered yet. Trust your brain to make it make sense. And remember that if we all stopped ourselves from getting too weird, fiction wouldn’t even be a thing.

2. Develop a Support System

Writing is—and I cannot stress this enough—very isolating. 

Maybe you’re not ready to share your idea yet. Maybe you want to get 50k down before you even tell your loved ones you’re working on a book. Or maybe the only way you can get through a first draft is to write in a vacuum. 

This is a sustainable model for a little while. But once that adrenaline rush that comes with a new idea dies down, you may find yourself floating in the middle of a waveless lake without a paddle. This is where many writers give up.

A big help is to find a small community of writers. The internet is great for this. You may also check the community boards at your local library or download some virtual meetup apps. 

When you have someone asking, “How’s the writing going today?” it makes all the difference. And be honest when you’re struggling. It may surprise you how many others relate, and the amazing advice they can offer.

3. Support Others

This goes hand-in-hand with the above item. Support is a two-way street (and I live in Connecticut, so I can tell you just how many construction problems are caused by one-way streets). 

When you build a small community of writers, artists, etc, it isn’t just about having someone to motivate you. It’s shocking just how healing and helpful it can be to also motivate and support others. Tell them the sorts of things you’re needing to hear yourself. Inspiration and motivation aren’t in finite supply. The more you give, the more you create.

Be mindful, also, of the type of support you’re giving. Writing is a fragile balance. Some days, you want someone to give it to you straight and tell you if your writing isn’t working or your idea isn’t coming together well. This gives you the practical mindset needed to fix it. But some days, when you’re feeling especially demoralized, you just need someone to tell you that you’re doing a great job, keep going, and it’s okay to take a little break. 

So before you respond to your peers’ pleas for help, ask them, “Are you wanting feedback today? Or would you just like some moral support?”

4. Give Yourself Some Compassion

In school, we’re trained to work hard and hard work becomes the standard. If you get a good grade, that’s the norm, and maybe you get a sticker. And if you get a substandard grade, you’re meant to feel like a failure. 

But here’s the good news: writing isn’t school. Here, you’re going at your own pace, and you’re only here if you want to be.

While tough love and discipline may get you through a lot of professional endeavors, writing is something that has to be done with some degree of love and willingness. Push yourself too hard, do too much too fast, and you’re asking for burnout. Think of The Tortoise and the Hare. 

Whether you like it or not, you’re going to have to be nice to yourself during the writing process, especially during a first draft.

5. Be Inspired

You may think that in order to be a successful writer, you have to read a lot. But inspiration can come from anywhere. Nice childhood memories, operas, art museums, death metal… 

Just because you’re writing a nonfiction field guide to butterfly mating patterns doesn’t mean you have to stare at butterflies all day. 

Just because you’re writing about Jack the Ripper doesn’t mean you can’t pop in some Miley Cyrus and jam while you’re outlining your chapter. 

In many cases, immersing yourself in your writing topic may feel like too much of a burden, and giving yourself an eclectic mix of inspiration can help you get out of your head and get more creative. 

Remember, some tears may be an inevitable part of making any art (especially the first draft), but fun is important in this process, and you’re here because you have an idea that you really believe in.

Ren DeStefano lives in Connecticut, where she was born and raised. When she’s not writing thrillers, she’s listening to true crime podcasts and crocheting way too many blankets.

You can find her on her website or follow her on Instagram.

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After explaining that I wanted a bound manuscript with the title and dedication pages single-sided, the clerk nodded and spent long minutes clicking around his computer while I sweated quietly behind my mask. When the printer finally whirred to life, the entire work emerged single-sided, so the clerk canceled the job and resumed his lethargic mousing. Back home there were bags to pack, a fridge to clear, literary beach reads to choose. 

But when the printer grumbled its acquiescence and pages started swishing out with text on both sides, my impatience lifted—those were my words, that was my book.

Why Print?

The idea of printing my manuscripts came from a former professor, the writer Jonathan Lethem, who once said he didn’t know what millennial writers considered drafts. With everyone editing on computers, how did we know when a version was finished and another beginning?

This reflection stuck with me, and I decided to start printing my manuscripts and having my own personal Draft Day. Even if it killed trees, took longer, and cost more than it should have—it was worth it.

Logistical Note: If you’re concerned about money or the environment, another option is exporting your book as a .pdf or .epub and reading it digitally. All you need to do is to take yourself out of the document you’ve been staring at and have a new, separate version.

In addition to being a mini-celebration, Draft Day has also allowed me to change my novel-writing process from an amorphous revision blob into a series of four distinct drafts:

I. Discovery Draft

In this draft, all you’re doing is getting the story down. I always write my chapters long-hand before typing them up, so for me, this draft is about getting that madness into a computer. 

Instead of worrying about crafting flawless sentences or developing every single plot point, the goal is simple: to have a story that’s readable from start to finish.

II. Growth Draft

And after reading the Discovery Draft, there’s always lots to fix. While the Growth Draft course corrects and fills in the frame of the Discovery Draft, it can also go off in new directions. 

Give yourself permission to be fearlessly creative and let the draft grow organically.

III. Definite Draft

Before you start editing what will be the Definite Draft, reflect on what your novel is truly about. I might write a dramatic summary or an author’s statement, so I have a definite sense of what I want this work to achieve and ensure each scene is working towards that vision. 

This is also the manuscript I share with writer friends, or a writing group, to get an outside perspective on how the work is holding together.

IV. Final (ish) Draft

I always get frustrated when my friends congratulate me on “finishing my book.” Just because I’ve written through to the end doesn’t mean I don’t have months of editing ahead. And even if I’m sending it to agents or editors, there’ll be more work after that.

Hence, the Final(ish) draft—the one you’ll send to anyone whose time you didn’t want to waste on the earlier ones. This draft is the best you can do at this given moment while acknowledging that it’s likely to change before it’s released to the masses.

These drafts are like the four years of high school:

Freshman year 

You’re learning how to open your locker and light a Bunsen burner in the lab. Maybe it’s fumbling and nervous, but your Discovery Draft is still sneaking under the bleachers for its first kiss.

Sophomore year

Instead of figuring out how to get to your classes, you’re testing into Advanced French or joining Math League. Your Growth Draft builds on last year’s discoveries and becomes more self-aware, and maybe even a little suave.

Junior year 

It’s time to get serious—college is on the horizon and your grades matter. As you work on your Definite Draft, you’re calm, confident, and don’t need an English teacher’s domineering red pen to see what needs fixing.

Senior year 

Is your time to shine. Your Final(ish) Draft is freshly showered and has a fetching new haircut under its graduation cap. Whatever happens, it’s ready for the next step.

And here’s the best part…

In the print shop, I was the last customer waiting as my Word document was transformed into 197 sheets of paper. While the sleepy printer thunked and the stack of pages grew, I put my sweaty agitation aside and looked on in pride. I wrote that, I thought. Those are my words being printed, those were my pages bound up into a book.

What had started two years ago as a scrawled sentence on a train ride had evolved into a readable novel. Whatever happens along the road to publication, I have proof I’ve come this far. And when I’m done annotating, I’ll put this manuscript on the shelf with its classmates, all of them silently cheering me on.

Tell us in the comments: How do you distinguish between one draft and another?

Gracie Bialecki is a writer, literary coach, and workshop facilitator who lives in Paris, France. Her work has appeared in various publications including Catapult and Epiphany Magazine where she was a monthly columnist. Bialecki is the co-founder of the storytelling series Thirst, a poetry editor at Paris Lit Up, and the author of the novel Purple Gold (ANTIBOOKCLUB). You can find her on her website or follow her on Twitter.

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Kathleen Barber, Kimberly Belle, Lyn Liao Butler, Molly Harper, Amy Poeppel, and Susie Orman Schnall were generous with their time, sharing details from their personal publishing journeys. Here are some of the themes arising from those writing podcast interviews: 

1. Authenticity

Write the stories you were meant to tell. Kathleen Barber cautions authors about writing to trend. Not only does it come across as inauthentic, but Barber also says it makes work of what could be a joyful writing process, resulting in a book that isn’t as much fun for the reader, as well.

In an early draft of Limelight, one of Amy Poeppel’s characters died, stemming a painful revision. She discovered she doesn’t “write sad.” It’s just not her. Humor is very much a part of her storylines as she creates a feel-good experience for her readers.

What do you do if the story you’re meant to tell is set in an unfamiliar time or place? Susie Orman Schnall says to “read up and around” to build a solid understanding of your genre and its constructs. A romance provides a “happily ever after” or, at least, a “happy for now.” Rom-coms blend love stories with comedy. Scientific fantasies integrate elements of scientific fact within a setting or plotline. Whatever you write, it’s important to grasp the pieces readers expect within that genre. Do your homework before you write in unfamiliar territory.

2. Writer’s Block

At some point in their careers, writers find themselves staring at a blank page, wondering if they’ve come to the end of their journey. In the writing podcast, Molly Harper says not to panic. Instead, get some sleep. Drink some water. Give yourself permission to take a break, with one proviso—set a deadline. Tell yourself, “After two days, I’ll return to my desk and bang out some words.” And stick to it. It’s amazing what a little time away can do to nurture a battered writing soul.

3. Protecting Your Writing Time

For suspense writer Kimberly Belle, “Home is where the laptop is.” That laptop travels with her, whether at home in Georgia or visiting her husband’s homeland in the Netherlands. No matter where she goes, she maintains some semblance of a schedule to meet her deadlines.  She warns writers to remain mindful when common tasks creep up.

When Orman Schnall finds herself deeply entrenched in a manuscript, she eliminates all non-writing events from her calendar. Walking the dog might clear the mind, but if it takes you too far away from your writing world, you may not return.

Distractions aren’t limited to tasks unrelated to writing. All too often, writing is diverted by social media, updating a website, or the creation of a bullet journal to mark off daily word counts—even listening to a writing podcast. Any one of these could be considered important, but if words never land on a page, you’ll find you’ve filled your time with everything but crafting books. Belle keeps the “writers write” rule in the forefront of her mind.

For Liao-Butler, the pandemic presented an opportunity for an unexpected retreat. Somehow, the planets aligned to allow her to spend a few months in Kauai where she conducted research and put a hefty dent in her next book. Belle, too, uses time away to recharge, although the writing continues. A beach trip might mean a usual day’s work becomes abbreviated so she can take a hike or hit the water. Can’t get to Kauai? Ask a friend to use their guest room or secure a hotel room for a few days.

4. Typing, “THE END”

“Isn’t the end,” says Poeppel. Reevaluate those expectations.  After the first draft is complete, it will require multiple revisions before it’s ready for prime time. Be proud of your work, knowing you’re in it for the long haul.

5. The Author’s Tribe

“Find your people,” says Molly Harper. Fellow authors will get you through the ups and downs of drafting, revising, querying, and publishing. Many times, they’ve been in your shoes and can alleviate stress.

Liao Butler encourages authors to rely on their author friendships to talk out their angst among each other. Not only does it make you feel better, but you can avoid dragging those negative experiences into social media.

Schnall has a group of five or six writers who meet via Zoom every Thursday to commiserate about their work. Similar Zoom meetings have become a helpful productivity tool for Barber. Accountability is key among her group of mystery and suspense writers. The platform provides a focused hub where they work, predominantly in silence. A designated interaction time provides a space for interaction to offset the workload in a supportive environment.

Where to find your people? On the writing podcast, Poeppel recommends visiting author websites or reaching out on Twitter.

Authors Kris Interviewed

Kathleen Barber

Kathleen Barber’s first novel, Truth Be Told (originally published as Are You Sleeping), has been adapted as a series for Apple TV+ by Reese Witherspoon’s Hello Sunshine media company. Follow Me is her second novel. www.kathleenbarber.com

Lyn Liao Butler

Lyn Liao Butler is the debut author of The Tiger Mom’s Tale, which comes out July 6th. Born in Taiwan, Lyn has had many careers: concert pianist, professional dancer, business owner, personal trainer, fitness and yoga instructor, purse designer and now author. www.lynliaobutler.com

Kimberly Belle

Kimberly Belle is the USA Today and internationally bestselling author of six novels, including her latest, Stranger in the Lake and The Marriage Lie, a Goodreads Choice Awards semifinalist for Best Mystery & Thriller. Her books have been published in more than a dozen languages and have been optioned for film and television. A graduate of Agnes Scott College, Belle divides her time between Atlanta and Amsterdam. www.kimberlybellebooks.com

Molly Harper

Molly Harper is the author of more than thirty paranormal and contemporary romance titles, including the Half-Moon Hollow series, the Southern Eclectic series, and the Audible exclusive Mystic Bayou series. www.Mollyharper.com

Amy Poeppel

Amy Poeppel’s writing has appeared in the NY Times, The Rumpus, and Working Mother, to name a few. She is also the best-selling author of Small Admissions, Limelight, and Musical Chairs, and she’s written the theatrical version of Small Admissions. www.amypoeppel.com

Susie Orman Schnall

Susie Orman Schnall is the author of four novels, and her writing has appeared in numerous publications including The New York Times, The Huffington Post, Popsugar, Writer’s Digest, and Glamour. www.susieschnall.com

Kris Clink’s relatable characters rely on humor and tenderness to navigate complicated relationships. Set in middle America, her novels are laced with romance, heartbreak, and just enough snarky humor to rock the boat. When not writing, Kris spends her time searching for an open karaoke mike and an understanding audience. Born and raised in the Texas Panhandle, Kris lives in Wichita, Kansas where her great Dane, Sophieanne, runs the house Kris shares with her editor-in-training husband. Full interviews can be found at https://writingtablepodcast.buzzsprout.com/

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They’re both ambitious undertakings that require consistent, focused effort over a longer period of time. They both require a special kind of dedication and optimism. And neither once comes without its setbacks. But that’s why we take on these challenges: to prove ourselves. To accomplish something. Oh, and to maybe achieve fame and fortune if we’re good.

If you want to be one of the rare few that writes a novel, you can learn a lot from the process of running a marathon to improve your writing. 

1.   It’s more of a mental challenge than you think

Obviously, writing a novel is a cerebral pursuit, much more so than running. But both activities challenge you mentally, especially if you have to find a way to keep going when all reason tells you to stop. In fact, the hardest part of running a marathon, in my experience, was convincing myself the entire time not to stop just because it was hard. 

The very same internal struggle happens for many writers. Maybe you worry that everything you write is trash. Maybe your brain tries to convince you to go do something easier. But you must develop the mental strength to overcome those self-defeating thoughts. You must get started anyway. A common piece of running advice is to just commit to ten minutes. At that point, you’re warmed up, and you’re more likely to keep going. The same holds true for writing. Even if you don’t feel like starting, just sit down to type for ten minutes. You’ll likely find your groove and move past the negative thoughts. 

2.   Planning and preparation will increase your chances of success

Just like there are pantsers who sit down and write a whole novel “by the seat of their pants,” there are also a handful of people who do a marathon with very little training. In the case of the former, many let their messy, pantsed drafts sit for years because they’re too difficult to fix. As for the latter—you can’t walk for two weeks after the race. 

Of course, there are outliers in both cases, but you’re likely to get a better outcome in writing and running if you prepare. Learning how to write a novel, coupled with researching your subject, developing your characters and world, and creating an outline will make writing your first draft a smoother process. Similarly, building up your mileage slowly, following a training plan, and learning about proper nutrition, will help you get across the finish line in better shape and with a time you can be proud of. 

3.   There are no shortcuts

A marathon is 26.2 miles—no more no less. A book is tens of thousands of words. As much as we’d like to make both easier, they are simply not. And there’s no way to shortcut the distance or the process. Preparation makes you better equipped to handle the difficulties, but if you want to achieve either goal, you’re signing up for a long process. 

However, throughout that long process, you’ll learn a lot. You’ll tweak your running form to become more efficient, or you’ll establish a writing routine that helps you get into a state of flow. You’ll try different things and determine what works and what doesn’t. You’ll get faster or you’ll dial in your writing voice. Despite the challenges and frustrations, you’ll come to appreciate going the long way. You will come out a much better writer or runner because of it. 

4.   The last stretch is the hardest part 

Once you get through the first 20 miles of a marathon, the last 6.2 feel like, well, another marathon. Even if you haven’t hit the wall, your body and mind are depleted at this point. You’re close to the end, but not close enough. This is the hardest part. The same goes for editing your novel. This is where the real work begins. There are a number of loose threads that feel like they may never come together. You’ve spent so much time with your idea that you begin to worry that it’s boring—at least you’re getting a little bored with it. And you still have to fix your character arc. This is the point where you must decide if you will continue. 

When you hit this stretch, either in running or writing, it’s time to “dig deep.” Runners often talk about “remembering your why,” the reason why you decided to run a marathon. This is equally important in novel writing. To commit to such a lofty goal, you must have a reason driving you. Do you have an important message to share with the world? Or a story that you just can’t let go? Tap into your why to keep you going. 

5.   Completing it is a rare and special accomplishment

So many people say they want to run a marathon or write a novel; so few actually achieve either. If you’ve completed a manuscript or gone the distance, you are exceptional! Even if it’s a bad experience, it’s still a cause for celebration. You’ve achieved a rare feat. 

Finishing my first marathon and my first novel made me want to cry happy, relieved, exhausted tears. At the same time, I wasn’t fully satisfied with my performance in either. 

That’s the thing: many people will be happy to cross the accomplishment off the bucket list—one and done. Then there are those of us for whom one is not enough. We finish and say, “I’m proud that I covered the miles or wrote that many pages, but I bet I can do it better. Let’s try it again.” 

I believe that’s the key to success in both marathoning and novel-writing. The insatiable desire to see how well you can do, and the determination to stick with the pursuit until you become better. Despite all the obstacles that may come up in your journey, if you master your mindset, prepare, resist shortcuts, remember your why, and you don’t settle, you can achieve your dreams. 

Heather Campbell is a book coach and editor helping writers cut through self-doubt and confusion to finally complete the novel they always dreamed of writing. When she’s not immersed in fiction, she’s running in the fresh mountain air of Colorado or snuggling with her rescue dog, Chase. Find out more at www.thewriterremedy.com and follow her on Twitter and Instagram!

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Writing a good sentence certainly isn’t a matter of imitating one particular style. Who would want to put a spare Joan Didion sentence against a more opulent one from Donna Tartt? There’s room for a myriad of artistic fashions when it comes to styling sentences.

But not paying attention to the specific functions and effects of our words will result in weak writing. I’m going to jump right over the usual suggestions to scrutinize your adjectives, cut your adverbs, vary your sentence lengths, and offer some advice that will take your sentences beyond Writing 101. 

1-Choose better words

Seems obvious, right? Well, it may be, but it’s certainly not easy. Sometimes the first word that comes to mind doesn’t end up being the best word. Ask yourself if your language is fresh, vivid, and precise. And rather than going for a fancy or unexpected word, see if you can use an expected word in an unexpected way. 

Most of us are less likely to choose an incorrect word than we are to choose an inexact word. For instance, what’s the difference between poured, gushed, surged, and cascaded? It’s the small variations between words that present a challenge, and the distinctions matter. I recommend revising with a good writer’s thesaurus close by (I own a well-used copy of the Oxford American Writer’s Thesaurus).

“Use the right word, not its second cousin,” said Mark Twain. Now that’s a quote to pin above your desk.

2-Prune Your Prepositional Phrases

Prepositional phrases are useful, but they’re also overused. I’m so sensitive to this one that when I come across words like of, with, since, after, and to, my editorial radar flips on. Which doesn’t mean that I’m going to cut something. But every prepositional phrase needs to be questioned. 

When you’re deciding what to cut and what to keep, ask yourself if you’d lose any clarity or meaning if the phrase was gone. If it’s needed, see if you can fold in the information more efficiently. A business owner from a small town could become a small-town business owner.

What if William Goldman had written, My name is Inigo Montoya. You killed my father. Prepare to die [on this rocky cliff]. The prepositional phrase would not only be unnecessary (the setting should already have notified us of the cliff), it drains away some of the emphasis that should fall on the word “die”. Be aware that unnecessary prepositional phrases love to sneak in at the end of sentences. Which brings me to…

3-Finish strong

Words in a sentence should be arranged in a logical progression, in a natural order that moves from broad to specific, from less vivid to more vivid, from less important to most important. The first and last words of a sentence carry the most weight, and of those two spots, the last words are the most significant.

Writing teacher Stephen Wilbers calls this last spot in the sentence the “V.I.P Parking” spot—only the most important words can park there. Consider this simple sentence: My foot has a blister the size of Oklahoma, I’m hot, and I’m tired.

Can you see how the parts are in the wrong order? A blister the size of Oklahoma is the most specific element, the most impactful, and should go last. Reordered it reads, I’m hot, I’m tired, and my foot has a blister the size of Oklahoma.

4- Go for sequence over simultaneity

This problem comes up so often in my writing classes that I have to include it here. Writers often fall into the trap of starting a sentence with a present participle phrase. Let me give you an example and explain why this is problematic. Consider the following sentence: Slamming her drink down on the table, Erica left the restaurant.

That sentence implies that Erica slamming her drink down and her leaving the restaurant happened at the same time. It implies simultaneity when in fact those two actions are sequential—one thing happened and then the other. Better to write: Erica slammed her drink down on the table and left the restaurant. 

Readers process one idea at a time, and any sentence that presents actions happening simultaneously, when those actions are actually happening in sequence, can confuse your reader. Even if they know what you mean, it will come off as sloppy writing. Search your manuscript for any “ing” words that come at the beginning of your sentences and make sure you’re using them properly.

5-Tighten the voice

When a reader begins a piece, the first thing they wonder (whether they realize it or not) is Who is speaking and why? They are quickly assessing style and tone and content. The “voice” you employ is what is going to give your reader not just information, but an experience. Once you press down on the voice gas pedal, you cannot let up.

Tightening the voice in your sentences involves applying every technique I’ve mentioned so far and then some. Whether the narrator is you (as in memoir) or whether you’re writing third-person fiction, you must have a clear conception of your story world and your narrator’s attitude toward it. 

You must know whether your tone should be formal or informal. You must understand why a character would use one word rather than another. You will be able to inhabit the world of your story when you understand the deep truth of what you’re trying to convey. And then your language can reveal it, sentence by sentence.

Precision, clarity, and artful effects don’t happen by accident and they often don’t happen in the first draft. Many of your newest sentences are going to have things wrong with them. It’s good to know this so you don’t slow yourself down by trying to sculpt your sentences when you should be dumping onto the table that lump of first-draft clay.

Once you’ve got your draft, then go back and underline any words that don’t seem spot on. Bracket the parts of your sentences that might be serving as clutter rather than providing clarity. Scrutinize the ends of your sentences, knowing that the ending carries the most weight.

Upleveling your sentences is hard work and there’s no way around that. But it’s worth it. In the words of William Zinsser, in his classic book On Writing Well,—“Both you and the reader know it when your finicky labor is rewarded by a sentence coming out right.”

KIM LOZANO is an editor and creative writing coach from St. Louis. Although she loves to travel, her heart and writing are always calling her home to the Great Plains. Her own work has been published in Alaska Quarterly Review, Third Coast, The Iowa Review, North American Review, and many other publications. You can find out more about her coaching at kimlozano.com. You can also find her on Facebook and Twitter.

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1) With flash fiction, you get something finished (and published!)

Picture this: you’re working on your manuscript. You’re 65,000 words into it, and you’re not sure whether you’re going to make it. You tell someone you’re a writer. “What do you write?” they ask. If you’re me, when people ask you this, all you can think about are the plot holes and the character who is not cooperating with their given directions. 

However, when I talk to people about my writing, I can tell them about the novel-length manuscript I’m both pouring my heart into and tearing my hair out over, or I can say, “I wrote this really funny story the other day about a bunch of outdoor diners getting squished by a giant bowling ball.” Because I had an idea one day when I was out walking the dog, and later that week I sat down and wrote a whole story. 

The act of finishing something is so gratifying, and it can boost your confidence that you will one day finish your manuscript. Additionally, flash fiction is a comparatively small ask for your critique partners. I’m constantly sending friends stories with fewer than 1,000 words because I know it won’t be a huge drain on their time to review.

The more polished flash fiction you have, the more pieces you can send out for publication. A lot of lit mags, especially newer ones, are steering away from longer pieces because they know everyone is busy and wants a quick, engaging story. Getting something published is also a huge confidence boost – proof that someone wants to read your writing and thinks that other people should too. The more flash you write, the more you can get published, the more you have to talk about with friends and family, and the more confidence you have that you can finish that manuscript.

2) You tighten up your prose.

Some people tumble out of the womb, pick up a pen, and write perfect sentences without any more words than necessary. I’m not one of those people and I doubt you are either (I imagine those people as residing mostly in cabins without internet). It took me several years to come to terms with the fact that I’m wordy, but now I relish going through drafts and cutting words mercilessly. Flash fiction is an excellent way to practice excising unnecessary words and playing with a sentence until you get to a structure with three fewer words (that still makes sense, of course).

Shorter sentences usually make for stronger sentences. Passive voice, for example, takes more words than active. Take “Jane was run over by the car” and put it in active voice – you save a word and get a stronger sentence out of the deal. Once you write a few pieces with strict word counts (that absolutely can be self-imposed, I recommend this for practice), you’ll find yourself going to town on your longer pieces as well.

3) You have to kill your darlings.

I found a lit mag that I thought was a perfect fit for a piece of flash fiction I’d written. I’d pored over every word, tightening up my prose to under 1,000 words, and I was excited to start sending it out. Then I looked at the submission requirements: 800 words or less. I knew that my story was as concise as possible – the only option was to start taking out entire sentences or paragraphs. And so, I had to evaluate every sentence and every section and ask myself: is this strictly necessary to the plot? Is it necessary for what I want my story to convey to readers? There were a couple sentences that I absolutely loved that I thought had beautiful imagery or particularly clever phrasing. But they weren’t necessary for the story I wanted to tell, so into the garbage they went.

It’s good for us as writers to look at our writing objectively, to decide whether a phrase or paragraph or chapter is strictly necessary. It’s easy to get swept up in the details and the scenery when you have 80,000 or even 5,000 words, but when you have the hard stop of a flash fiction word count, it makes you consider every phrase in a new light. Of course, sometimes you decide that everything is imperative, that the story would suffer for cutting anything, and that’s when you know you have a good, tight story. Once I cut my story down to 800 words, I found another lit mag with a requirement of 700 words, and I knew that I couldn’t do it.

(In a stroke of irony, the version of the story that I actually got published was under 500 words. But it was a different story by that point.)

4) You get to the action (or don’t!)

As you’ve gathered by now, flash fiction is a game of choice. The great thing about flash fiction is that you can get away with a lot that readers wouldn’t always accept from a novel or short story because there’s less room for a narrative arc. Personally, I’m a big fan of random snippets of action that leave the reader asking questions about the larger context (flash fiction is great for sci fi for this reason). But if you want to spend 800 words describing an interesting person and then 150 piquing the reader’s interest with what might happen to them, you can! Or you can write a fight scene with only a few clues about the characters’ relationship or the moments preceding the fight. The traditional constraints aren’t there, so have some fun.

5) With flash fiction, you have fun with form

I naturally gravitate towards writing in past tense, third person limited POV – the thought of writing a longer piece in first person or present tense stresses me out. But I was recently working on a flash piece, and a friend read it and suggested putting it in present tense. It already had a sense of urgency, and present tense might serve it well. As soon as I started considering it, I thought, what if it was in second person too? 

So, I rewrote the entire thing in second person present tense, and I loved it. The second person point of view gave my story even more urgency, and I quickly realized how many words I could save in present tense. For my longer pieces, I’m still a past tense third person limited kinda gal, but I’ve started experimenting more, and realizing that other formats can be a lot of fun.

So put that manuscript aside for one day, write something short and fun, and see if it doesn’t help get the creative juices flowing.

Marina is a West Coast native living in Washington, DC. She loves writing anything, from sci-fi to creative non-fiction to romance, often drawing inspiration from the frequent travel required by her day job. Her work has appeared in such literary magazines as DistrictLit and Corner Bar Magazine. When she’s not writing, you can find her hosting bar trivia, baking something involving peaches, or bothering her extremely patient dog, Daisy. You can read more of her work at marinabarakatt.com and find pictures of Daisy at twitter.com/marinabarakatt.

The post #5onFri: Five Ways Writing Flash Fiction Improves Your Writing appeared first on DIY MFA.

Can I really write a book?

Does that thought seem familiar? I can’t even express how many times those words have gone through my head. Whether you’ve known since childhood you were destined to be a writer or you’re just discovering your passion for the craft now, it’s likely you’ve also stopped to consider whether you have the discipline, the drive, the mental, emotional, and physical wherewithal to truly finish a full-length, publish-worthy manuscript. And, I bet if you admitted it, you would say this thought is what has stopped you from seriously attempting it.

The Problem With “Can I?”

I, too, felt that uncertainty. Many times, I pondered my ability to write a novel, but it was not until my early adulthood that I understood the problem with what I was asking myself. At the time, I was making some big transitions and trying to figure out my ultimate path in life. Writing and publishing a novel was right up there on the list of things I knew I was going to do one day. Maybe now was the time.

But can I do it? Do I have what it takes? Will I be able to finish something? Will it be any good? All of these questions have the same basic flaw—the phrasing leaves it open for the answers to be “no.” 

Yet, somehow, the possibility of that being the answer seemed preposterous. How could I not be able to write a novel when it’s been something I’ve wanted to do since forever? And then I realized that I was putting my focus on the wrong word. Instead of questioning my abilities, I needed to concentrate on my want. Up until that point, I had yet to purposefully attempt writing a full-length novel. I had no idea whatsoever what to expect on that front. So why bother wondering about it?

On the other hand, I did absolutely, unequivocally know that writing a novel was something I wanted to do. The certainty I felt in this knowledge created a driving force, a burning desire within me to complete the task. I couldn’t let fear of the unknown stop me from my attempt. So instead of asking “can I?” I began telling myself “I want to.”

The Results of Wanting Something Really, Really Badly

Once my mind made this switch, it was like autopilot took over. My revelation happened to coincide with the start of NaNoWriMo, so I sat down at 11:59 pm on October 31st at my computer with my one-sentence idea written on a post-it note, and I began to type.

And I typed. And I typed. And I slept. And I ate. And I typed. And I drove to another state. And I typed. And I started a new job. And I typed. And I typed. And at the end of a month, I typed the last sentence that would complete my very first novel. I had finally answered my initial question. Can I write a book? Yes. I absolutely could, and I had the manuscript to prove it. 

But when I finally came down from my NaNo finisher cloud, I reflected on what had just happened. How was I able to do that, and why did it seem like it was no trouble at all? I searched my psyche and found that one very important thing had disappeared: I was no longer afraid of the answer being “no.” In fact, I had ignored my nagging doubts and simply forged ahead as if I already knew I could do it. And I did. 

Assume the Answer Is “Yes”

If you’ve been waiting to start a project because you just aren’t sure if you can make it through, then I ask you this—what would you do if you already knew that “yes” is the answer to the question “can I write a book?” Would you leap with joy and then immediately start typing?

Don’t let the fear of “no” hold you back. You can do this. You can finish your novel—and you can do it this year! To help you out, Gabriela has created an awesome new resource for everyone. We’re still putting on the finishing touches, but we wanted you to be the first to know about it. We’ll be emailing more information soon!

In the meantime, the DIYMFA Team has compiled a series of articles from the DIYMFA archives. These articles are designed to highlight the most important craft elements for writing a novel.

Sign up and get access to the depth and breadth of collective knowledge showcased on our website. You’ll also have access to our Roadmap to Novel Success which shows you how to do deep dive on the three key elements of storytelling—character, world building, and structure. These fundamental elements are crucial if you want to craft a compelling narrative.

Jeanette the Writer is an editor, coach, and freelance writer who wants to help others demolish their editing fears and finish their manuscript. As a former scuba instructor turned entrepreneur, Jeanette knows about putting in the hard work to pursue your passions. She has worked with authors, speakers, coaches, and entrepreneurs—empowering them with the right mindset, knowledge, and tools to help them tackle their editing goals. You can learn more about Jeanette by visiting JeanetteTheWriter.com. 

The post What Happens When You Decide the Answer is “Yes”? appeared first on DIY MFA.

-Huh?

-You know, NaNo?

-Who?

-You’re not a WriMo yet?!

-Did you just call me a ‘rhino’?

It’s not a secret code or a reference to rhinos or even atomic particles. It’s National Novel Writing Month, and the challenge to write 50,000 words in the month of November is about as crazy as the name itself. You have to be a little screwy to try to write that much in thirty days. I should know. It’s my second year doing this, and I just wrote 10k in five days. My friends think my brain is growing trees.

Writing so much so quickly becomes a process sometimes known as “word dumping”—or as I like to call it, spewing onto a blank page. And whether you’re a pantser (someone who doesn’t plan) or a meticulous plotter, it can be the ultimate cure for the curse of the “inner editor”. Don’t edit, just write.

It’s a special kind of thing—one that for many is a yearly tradition that prides itself in a “seat-of-your-pants approach to creative writing”.

Why Do NaNoWriMo?

Because the NaNoWriMo network is a beast. Over 300,000 people participated last year from around the globe, and at peak hours, there can be as many as 100,000 users on the website. Which enables one of the greatest parts about NaNo:

1) The Forums

There’s everything from age group hangouts to genre lounges. Word war opponents abound at any time of the day. (A game to see who can write the most words in a set number of minutes.)  A niche exists for everyone, including a place for “rebels”, writers doing non-novel related projects like poetry, screen plays, non-fiction, etc. There’s forums for the distressed writer with funny names like “NaNoWriMo Ate My Soul”.

And of course there’s the golden nugget of the “Reference Desk”, a year round forum for posting research topics where other authors can contribute their real world areas of expertise. It’s a god-given resource.

Then there’s the phenomenon of:

2) The Writing Buddy

I say phenomenon because the difference between a writing buddy and a critique partner is subtle and yet monumental. In many ways, my writing buddies are more valuable than my critique partners.

By sorting through forums, looking at writer’s pages and novel descriptions, you can add people as a ‘writing buddy’. I exchange almost daily messages with mine, and we become cheerleaders for each others achievements and challenges.

Finding a critique partner can be an intimate process as complicated as any love affair, and the “writing buddy” is a great way to kick start that ‘get to know you’ period.

3) The Local Network

The benefits of ‘going local’ when seeking out other writers is something that requires its own post. As fantastic as the forums and writing buddies are, the in-person write-ins hosted during the month of November are priceless. Volunteers in over eight hundred regions plan things like ‘Kick off Parties’, ‘All Night Write-Ins’ and ‘Thank God It’s Over’ celebrations. They make the painstaking process of giving birth to a novel a heck of a lot more fun.

And it’s how I found my local writing group.

Life After NaNoWriMo        

Towards the end of the month, a forum appears on the site called “Life After NaNo”. There’s things for people who did or did not meet their 50k goal: a contractual promise to finish your novel, a contractual promise to edit your novel. There’s promotional coupons for writing software, free proof copies of your book, plus advice from a mirade of self-publishing companies.

Other organizations replay the team spirit of spewing a word count of any size with a group of people. You can find it for any month of the year. NaNoWriMo hosts ‘camps’ in April and July. I repeated it in January and February. I’m a special kind of crazy, but working towards a writing goal with others induces an osmosis-like effect that can be joyously addictive.

If only I could learn to edit 50k in 30 days.

Special thanks to Richenda Gould, my NaNoWriMo municipal liaison and critique partner extraordinaire.

The post The Pros and Pros of NaNoWriMo appeared first on DIY MFA.

I certainly did. At the beginning of November, I wrote THE END on the last page of a manuscript I’d been working on for a year. When I shut the computer, I didn’t know whether to break into a smile or burst into tears. I felt a little like my main character, who spends most of the book trying to break out of an oppressive family situation; when he actually does, his first feeling is a burst of chaotic energy. His daughter asks where they are, and he says, “We’re free.”

I’m free, he thinks, tasting the alien word. Free. 

Then he looks around himself, holding his daughter with one arm, a single bag hoisted on the other, and wonders, What do I do now?

I’ve finished five books and still, always, I come to the end with that same feeling. A brief moment of euphoria, followed by a question: What do I do now? 

When you work toward a goal, it becomes a center, a lodestar; when you reach it, you are cut adrift. The book’s done. It’s not perfect. It needs work. But you might not know where to start. Instead of immediately asking what the book needs, maybe this is a good time to ask yourself: what do you need? At this point, I think writers need four things. These will help you celebrate this moment, then build a strategy so you’re refreshed and ready to rock your re-write.

When you finish your first draft, the first thing you need is:

Positive Reinforcement

You’ve accomplished something huge! Don’t lose sight of that. As writers, we feel most comfortable working, and it’s tempting to just keep right at it. You know you’re not finished (well, you’re a writer, so you’re never really finished!), but, still, you are at a milestone.  Before you dive right back into work, give yourself a chance to celebrate where you are now. 

One thing I do is print a draft and have it spiral-bound. So much of writing now is staring at a screen. Your manuscript can start to feel like an amorphous blob you’re constantly re-working. Having a concrete picture of this first draft is a practical way of celebrating that you’ve made it this far. I also got a friend to take a picture of me with it, so I could share my accomplishment on social media. It’s a great way to build your community and keep friends and family updated on your progress. They want to cheer you on. And, let’s face it, we spend a lot of time alone. Having a moment where other people can see what you’ve accomplished can feel pretty darn awesome.

But we don’t celebrate for long. We’re writers, and we’re going to want to get back to work. The next thing you need, once you’ve finished your first draft and taken a moment to celebrate, is to gain a little:

Perspective

One of the reasons we feel cut adrift when we finish a draft is that it’s all that’s been on our minds for weeks, months or years. Especially toward the end, the story starts to take over everything else. You’re working longer hours on it. You’re immersed in the world. And you can barely even see it any more.

At the Writer’s Digest Conference in 2012, I heard Donald Maase speak about revision. At the beginning of his talk, he said he was going to give his most valuable piece of advice first.  “And I know most of you will not take this advice,” he said, “I wish more writers would. But I know they won’t.” We all leaned in, determined and curious. And then he said, “Put your manuscript away for a month.”

I leaned back, and I thought, Oh, hell no.

A month? Ridiculous! What would I do if I didn’t work on my manuscript for a month? Maybe a week, at most. But even that seemed crazily indulgent. Who takes a week off from writing? I can’t. I won’t. And I didn’t. Until a year later, when I was at my wit’s end with my manuscript, and finally took his advice.

And you know what happened? I gained perspective on my manuscript. I saw huge plot problems, glaring inconsistencies I never would have seen before because I was too deep in my world, too invested in my characters, to even see what I was talking about anymore. At some point, the story in your head can cease to be the one that’s on the page. And the only way to see that is to read your book as if you were reading it for the first time.

You can’t do that without a break. But you can’t take a break from your manuscript without having:

Another Project

Donald Masse wasn’t suggesting any of us stop writing altogether. He was suggesting we stop working on one book. He knew we were not one book. We had other stories to tell. So while you’re taking a break from your first draft, letting the ideas and plot threads percolate in the back of your mind, work on something else.

This can be a great way to push yourself. Maybe you don’t want to start an entirely new book–try a short story, a poem or an essay. Take a look at the Writer Igniter and see what it inspires. There are so many resources out there for writers. A break from your manuscript can be an opportunity for you to grow in the other areas of your writing life. Make a reading list. Find ways to build your community. Offer to Beta-Read for someone. Write a blog post, or a guest post. When you come back to your manuscript, you’ll be able to look at it with fresh eyes. And be able to give yourself the last thing you need:

A Plan

This is where I fouled up this time around. I took a break–a whole month. And then I sat down and read my manuscript. Because I had taken the time off, I could see some glaring character problems. I could also see that my setting wasn’t well-developed. I could see which subplots weren’t developed. I could see where a twist didn’t make sense.

During the read-through, I tried my best not to take notes. To just read and think about what I was reading. When I was finished, I made a list. It was extensive. All in stickers in the back of my print-out draft. Then, having figured out all the problems I needed to fix, I sat down at my computer, opened up chapter one . . . and stared at it.

I knew what I needed to do; I just had no idea how to do it. I needed a plan.

Instead of just diving right back in, I took a week to outline the entire story. I made a list of every chapter, and wrote a few sentences to describe it, taking note of the main character’s arc, where the secondary characters were, and how the plot advanced. Then I took out my list of problems. By looking at the story as a whole, I was able to see where I could fix the issues. Where I needed to add a chapter, or a scene. Where I needed to cut one. Then I lined up these tasks with a calendar, setting out a plan to get this re-write finished in six weeks. It’s been five weeks since I finished my first draft. In some ways, that feels like an eternity. A wasted time. But now I’m ready to re-write.

When we finish a first draft, it’s normal to feel a little lost even as we’re feeling very excited. But with a little perspective, positive reinforcement and another project, you can give yourself the time and tools to make a plan. You won’t be thinking, What do I do now? You’ll know.

You’re going to get back to work.

The post When You Finish a First Draft appeared first on DIY MFA.