Write Your Novel in 30 Days

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YOUR COMPLETE GUIDE TO A SOLID FIRST DRAFT

WRITER’S DIGEST

presents

Proven Strategies

for Success

• MASTER THE ELEMENTS OF FICTION

• DEVELOP YOUR STORY ARC:

� PROVEN METHODS

• START STRONG FROM THE FIRST PAGE

Secrets for

Staying on Track

• A DAILY PLANNER FOR WEEK ONE

• � TRICKS FOR MANAGING YOUR TIME

• ��-DAY CALENDAR: YOUR GOALS AT A GLANCE

INCLUDES

�� WORKSHEETS

FOR PLANNING

YOUR DRAFT!

Plus: FREE

Bonus Worksheet

Downloads

WRITE YOUR NOVEL

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�

DAYS

KEEP THE MOMENTUM!

• THE ULTIMATE REVISION CH

ECKLIST

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If you think writing a book in a month is an irrational pursuit, you’re a little bit right. Sometimes we have to do crazy things to get headed down the right path.

To stop the procrastination, you need a bold goal. A 30-day chal-lenge can motivate you to do what you’ve put o� for too long: dedi-cating yourself to your writing. �is guide is helpful for any beginning-to-intermediate �ction writer. And—even if you don’t want to write a book in 30 days— this guide still o�ers essential milestones and worksheets that can help you no matter what kind of time frame you use. Here are three potential paths.

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You don’t have to prep if you don’t want to—especially if you’ve been contemplating a speci�c story idea for a while, and just need to start. Use the 30-day calendar on pages 38–39 to begin writing and outlining immediately on Day 1. �is schedule integrates a few key steps into your �rst week that will build the basic frame-work for a successful story line.

�� Before you mark Day 1 of your writing, read through the sec-tion “Lay the Groundwork” to create realistic goals, manage your time well, and identify the kind of story you want to write. To fur-ther ground your e�orts, you may also want to outline your work beforehand (see “To Outline or Not To Outline” on page 23).

However: Don’t get sucked into the trap of over-preparing, or using outlines and research as a procrastination tool. Set yourself a speci�c day to start your 30-day writing e�ort.

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Excellent! You can still use the 30-day method, and you should complete all the worksheets, which will help you uncover poten-tial problems in your story. Depending on how much of the man-uscript is written, you may want to designate a week or two of your month for revision. Refer to “�e Ultimate Revision Checklist” on page 86 to help you create a revision plan.

So—no more excuses. You’ll never feel or be more prepared than you are now. It’s time to start writing.

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WRITE YOUR NOVEL

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LAY THE GROUNDWORK

4 How You Can Write a Book

in a Month

BY VIC TORIA SCHMIDT

It’s not impossible to write a quality manuscript in 30 days. Get ready to accomplish the goal of a lifetime.

9 7 Tips for Time Management

BY VIC TORIA SCHMIDT

Stop making excuses. Everyone has time to write—as long as you have the right mindset. Here’s how to get it.

14 How to Set Writing Goals

You’ll Actually Keep

BY VICTORIA SCHMIDT

Don’t start that manuscript without knowing what motivates you, and committing to paper what you intend to accomplish.

18 Uncovering Fresh Story Ideas

BY JOSEPH BATES

Tap your daily life, as well as your imagination, for novel-worthy characters and plots.

23 To Outline or Not to Outline?

BY JAMES SCOTT BELL

It’s one of the biggest questions facing every novelist. Here are the pros and cons—plus �ve proven outlining methods.

31 Word Count Basics

BY CHUCK SAMBUCHINO

Know your goal so you can plan how many words you need to write each day or week to complete your book in 30 days.

GET A RUNNING START

33 Your 7-Day Jumpstart

BY VICTORIA SCHMIDT

Say good-bye to intimidation. Here’s a game plan for your �rst week—including essential checkpoints for long-term success.

38 30-Day Calendar

BY VICTORIA SCHMIDT

Use these tips, reminders and steps to help you stay on track.

40 Your First Scenes

BY SARAH DOMET

You don’t have much time to hook the reader. Here’s what you need to accomplish in the �rst act of your novel.

45 Assemble Your Characters

BY NANCY KRESS

Here are four paths for building your cast of essential characters, plus the question you need to ask of each: changer or stayer?

presents

WRITE YOUR NOVEL

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52 Common Chapter One Pitfalls

BY CHUCK SAMBUCHINO

What types of �rst scenes or story openings should you avoid? Industry insiders speak out.

BUILD OUT THE STORY

56 Your �ree-Act Structure

BY JAMES SCOT T BELL

During the 30-day challenge, you should frequently re-evaluate your structure so you end up with a compelling story.

63 Scenes: �e Building

Blocks of Your Novel

BY JORDAN ROSENFELD

Learn how to master the scene, and you’ll be assured of a strong dra� that won’t fall apart on you during revision.

70 5 Techniques to Keep Your

Story Moving Forward

BY JOSEPH BATES

It’s called the “Mushy Middle” for a reason. Find out how to keep readers interested during Act II and beyond.

77 �e Art of Closing Well

BY JOSEPH BATES

Readers deserve a satisfying ending. Here’s how to anticipate and shape a memorable climax, closing act and denouement.

EVALUATE, REVISE, SUBMIT

86 �e Ultimate Revision Checklist

BY JAMES SCOT T BELL

Here’s how to take your �rst dra� to polished manuscript.

97 Preparing a Novel Query

and Submission Package

BY K AREN WIESNER

A�er you have a polished and �nal dra�, these steps will help you submit your work to publishers or agents.

WORKSHEETS

101 Worksheet Index

102 Story Tracker

(Act I, Act II, Act III)

105 Story Idea Map

107 Scene Card

108 At-A-Glance Outline

113 Character Sketch

115 Character-Revealing Scenes

116 Climax

117 Denouement & Closing Scenes

FOR INSPIRATION

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FRIDAY

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W

e all have issues that keep us from ful�lling our goals. Any big undertaking will bring those issues to the surface in the form of resistance. Resistance is the way your subconscious tries to protect you from taking risks. Ever get really tired the second you tried to change a habit? Sudden fatigue is a great indicator that resistance is at play. Let’s take the �rst step and answer some of the questions that may be �oating through your head.

Has anyone written a book in 30 days?

Yes! I know a group of genre authors who do just that—ever hear of Nora Roberts (also known as J. D. Robb)? Or how about Dame Barbara Cartland? She wrote a book a week, becoming one of the most proli�c writers in history.

Yeah, but how good were those books?

�at’s a judgment question (and we’ll take a closer look at the role our inner critic plays in the writing process later in this introduction). We don’t have time to judge the work of others because that only leads us down the path to judging our own work. Drop “judging” from your vocabulary! �ere have been great and horrible books in every genre, whether they took 30 years to write or 30 days. Besides, it’s unlikely that your 30-day manuscript will emerge fully formed, ready for the printing presses as is. �at comes with skill, practice and a lot of polishing ... but you can’t start down that path to the rewrite unless you have a complete manuscript ready to work with.

If I can’t �nd the time to write now, how will I �nd the time to write a whole book this quickly?

Short deadlines can actually be invigorating. What I mean by this is, if you tell yourself that you have to set aside six months to get a dra� down, it will

HOW YOU CAN WRITE

A BOOK IN A MONTH

It’s not impossible to write a quality manuscript in 30 days.

Get ready to accomplish the goal of a lifetime.

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seem like a huge task (will you really ask your family to make a sacri�ce for six months?).

But what if you only have to ask your family to pitch in for one month? If 30 days does not seem like much to write a book, then, hey, 30 days is not a big sacri�ce. Give it a shot. �e kids, family and friends can pitch in for that amount of time without too much strain. More important, you’ll have given yourself a very narrow and focused time frame in which to work.

Can this guide help me rewrite my manuscript if I’ve got a �nished one that I really want to try to salvage? Yes. �is guide works for anyone starting fresh, or rewriting an earlier dra� instead of starting a new one. What about writer’s block?

You are the source of your own blocks, which means you have the power to eliminate them. Stop resisting and go for it. Numerous working moms and overextended col-lege students have done it!

What if I’m still not sure I can do it?

�e biggest obstacle to accomplishing this goal is your own inner critic and personal psychology. �is guide will do its absolute best to help you be a successful writer, giving you critical information and techniques in 100-plus pages, but you have to put your butt in the chair and start typing. We are all di�erent, and our needs change as we grow and develop as writers, so use what works for you.

But be open to new solutions, techniques and exer-cises. Many are included in this guide. In the end it really doesn’t matter how “good” or “bad” your manu-script turns out to be. First dra�s are �rst dra�s, no mat-ter who writes them, or how fast! Instead, it is all about the journey. You’re reaching for a lo�y goal, and as you meet and face down your blocks and your resistance, you will �nd that what you’ve learned along the way has helped you to grow in more ways than just as a writer.

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Is it really feasible to write a book in 30 days? In a word: yes. But there are �ve secrets you need to know before-hand in order to be successful. Few books or courses that profess to teach the art of “quick dra�ing” actually

teach these �ve secrets, which makes it very di�cult for the writer to actually produce his dra�.

In truth, these �ve secrets might seem, at �rst, very simple, but once you begin to apply them, you will see why these are necessary not just to keep your book mov-ing, but to keep it moving forward.

�e �rst three deal with techniques, tools and tricks you can use to maintain forward momentum and focus. �e last two deal with the writer himself; there is a bit of psychology here.

�e �ve secrets to successfully writing a book in a month are:

1. Work “as if.” 2. Leave out subplots. 3. Be realistic.

4. Examine your self-esteem. 5. Trust yourself.

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Working “as if ” means that you keep writing—that you keep moving forward with your story—without stop-ping to rewrite every time you change your mind about a character, plot or setting detail. Instead, you take notes on a worksheet to stay on task while still remembering changes you’ll need to make later. As new ideas or new directions come to mind, jot them down—in an orga-nized way, of course—and keep writing as if you’ve made those changes already. �ere is an excellent rea-son for doing this, one that every 30-day writer should keep in mind:

You cannot write and rewrite at the same time if you want to �nish a book in 30 days.

Now, all of the changes you come up with while in the process of writing are no longer taking up valuable space in your brain, and you are free to keep moving forward, free to generate more ideas, free to keep get-ting those pages done. Your new ideas and revision notes can be stored safely on worksheets until you have �nished your �rst dra� without interruption. To keep things organized, it is best to break your notes down by act—a traditional three-act structure consisting of beginning, middle and end—and then supply speci�c details under the following categories: character, plot,

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subplot and setting. Let’s take a closer look at what such notes might consist of.

�� Let’s say for some reason you want— or, more likely, need—to change the name of your char-acter from Anne to Barbara, and you want her to be a pianist instead of a waitress. Instead of going back and changing every page that contains a reference to Anne or her occupation, instead you jot down:

Change Anne to Barbara and make sure she’s a pianist in all of her scenes, check pages 3–42.

�en you do the obvious: You use the name Barbara from this point forward and write as if she is a pianist.

Likewise, you can keep similar notes for changes to a character’s background. If you need, for example, to change the childhood issues for one character so you can make her “gritty and jaded” when she goes home for Christmas, make the appropriate note on your work-sheet and write her as if she were “gritty and jaded” from this point on.

�is type of change may—and probably will—a�ect other characters, like her parents, so make sure to note any implications the change might have in terms of relationships between characters, motivations, histo-ries and so on ... all concerns for you to address later, in revision.

If this seems at �rst to be too-obvious advice—per-haps a bit too easy or too hard, depending on your tem-perament—consider the reason for addressing charac-ter changes in this way: You’ve reached a problematic point in your story, a point where the story has dictated a change must be made, and you’ve made it. Now, rather than retreating to your previous pages to make metic-ulous corrections—essentially “bookkeeping”—you are free to explore the possibilities presented to you by

your story ... the very possibilities that necessitated the change in the �rst place.

You are free, in other words, to write.

�� You are absorbed in your writing, and all of a sudden you realize you should have included a �ght scene between Chris and Mike two chapters ago. It is the only way this current scene you are writing will make sense. No problem. Jot down on your worksheet:

Fight scene between Chris and Mike in Chapter 2. �e outcome is X because Y. �e point is Z. See page 132. You can also get out your red pen and write on the page you wish to include this scene:

Insert �ght scene here—see worksheet notes.

Whew! �is is such a quick way to get that idea down and keep moving forward. �ink about it: If you stopped right now to write out that whole �ght scene, how much time would it take you? Are you the type of writer who might get sidetracked by it? Sometimes we go back to change one thing and then �nd our minds wandering toward new ideas on top of new ideas. �is is classic writing self-sabotage! Don’t let that happen; just keep your notes, keep them clear and keep moving for-ward. Use the Story Tracker worksheet on page 102 of this guide.

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Many writers churn out a quick version of their stories with subplots to be added later. �is really depends on your writing style and level of mastery. Most of us do better if we can just focus on the main characters and plotline, and race through to the end. �ere is nothing

Is it really feasible to write a book in 30 days? In a word:

yes. But there are �ve secrets you need to know beforehand

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wrong with that. So feel free to leave out the subplots for now.

As you write, you can keep track of what subplots you might return to in revision:

Add subplot: Cari meets with hero to plan the surprise party Alex doesn’t know about.

And then continue on with the main plot. �is way, you know where you want the subplots to �t in and how they will progress, but you don’t waste a lot of time and brainpower working on them just yet. Why not go ahead and write them? Because subplots are always the �rst to go, or change, during a rewrite.

Once you get to the end, you will be able to see: • where the story is a little slow

• where things don’t make sense

• what new information needs to be added • what characters need to be changed or dropped. Can you see that working too much on subplot can be a waste of time? Even if you keep all the basic subplots you create during these 30 days, they will still change; the main plot will require them to change because it will change and grow as you write—new settings, new char-acters, new information, new transitions, new purpose, new goals, new subtext. �e subplots will have to re�ect these changes. Don’t waste your time unless it is abso-lutely necessary. You’re in charge here, so do what you think is best. Just know that it is okay to forego the sub-plots when writing a dra� in 30 days.

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Most of all, you need to be realistic—if you work two jobs, have kids to care for and have health issues, don’t push yourself to �nish a book in 30 days. Instead, resolve to complete a story synopsis. A synopsis is an unstruc-tured outline. You work out the beginning, middle and end, and develop characters and their goals. You also work a lot on your opening lines and hooking readers.

You can write anything within this 30-day time period. Be gentle on yourself and your creativity will continue to �ow. Set a goal too high and the creative blocks will be more di�cult than ever!

Be careful about getting too upset about setbacks and delays. Remember, one bad day can become three, and

three can become ... well, you get the idea. �en you might �nd yourself dreading the process and �nally giv-ing up. Don’t let yourself have a bad day. Try to �nd the bright spot. Stay positive.

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Never guilt or shame yourself into writing, or put your-self down too harshly for not writing. Guilt and shame never helped anyone’s self-esteem, and self-esteem is what you need to complete a book in a month.

Self-esteem allows you to commit to your goals, and it allows you to make time for what is important to you. Self-esteem means you can say to yourself, “I matter, and so do my goals.”

It’s okay to be dedicated to others in your life, but you still have to take care of your needs. Sometimes setting a good example is the greatest thing you can do for your loved ones. Many kids would prefer to have a happy, ful�lled mother rather than a fancy home-cooked meal.

If you agree with more than two of the following statements, your writing self-esteem could use a boost.

• I blame someone or something for not being able to write.

• I constantly blame myself for not writing enough, even if it’s not my fault.

• Instead of �nding time to write, I do what others want even when I don’t want to.

• When someone criticizes my work, I feel like they’re criticizing me.

• I’m reluctant to set and announce my writing goals for fear that I won’t attain them or that I will be ridiculed.

• I’m �lled with big writing dreams and goals, but I just can’t get started or follow through.

• I give up at the �rst hint of rejection.

• I feel like I have no control over my time and how I spend it; writing is always pushed to the wayside. • I really don’t see that I have many choices in life

to do what I want to do.

Boost your self-esteem by focusing on your strengths. �is is why many writing teachers tell you to stay away from negative people when writing and keep your work to yourself in the beginning. Listen

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to them! Once you have �nished your manuscript and are happy with it, you can then sort through criticism from others. Until then, keep your work to yourself. Or tell the person looking at your work you only want positive feedback for now.

You need to feel as if it is your right to have these 30 days. You need to stand up for yourself. Writing down your feelings can help you to crystallize what really mat-ters to you.

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Here’s the big question: Do you trust yourself? Some-times we don’t achieve our goals because we devalue our capacity to deal with whatever may arise when reaching for them. Trusting yourself may be the greatest gi� you can give and receive. When you stop the worry by say-ing, “I trust myself to deal with whatever comes up,” the anxiety li�s away. Here are some remedies to ward o� the most common writing worries:

What if this manuscript isn’t any good? Even if that were the case, you have the ability to rewrite it. Trust that you did your best. If you honestly do your best, there should be no room for regret.

What if I get rejected? Don’t see your manuscript as an extension of yourself; instead, trust that you will be able to deal with rejection if it happens. Trust yourself to honestly recognize when rejection is constructive and when it is hurtful. Learn from constructive criti-cism and do better next time.

What if I can’t reach the goal? Sometimes, it’s easier— and more comfortable—to sabotage yourself and blame others. When you actively prevent yourself from suc-ceeding, it’s easier to accept failure. Instead of working against yourself, if you don’t reach your goal, then trust that you will take an honest look at the reasons why this happened and adjust your goals for next time. Don’t simply beat yourself up over it.

What if I feel really anxious about this 30-day task? Trust yourself to deal with whatever may come up these 30 days, and then just go for it. Really now, what is the worst that can happen? You won’t �nish a manuscript. We’re not talking life and death here!

Most of our writing blocks come from lack of self-trust, pure and simple. We wouldn’t get upset, worried,

angry, accusatory or anxious if we trusted ourselves to deal with whatever might come up, in any situation. So, visualize yourself dealing well with your biggest writ-ing fear (perhaps rejection) right now. Imagine how you will handle it and overcome it.

Every day is a new day, a new chance to begin again. Give yourself permission to mess up one day, and make it a good one! Does that take some of the pres-sure o�?

We all have lives to lead; we all have reasons for not writing. Writing a book in 30 days will test your dedi-cation to becoming an author, so if you can’t articulate why you’re writing, then you just might run in to trou-ble. To prepare you for this, let’s pause here to explore your motivation and commitment to writing:

• Why do you want to write? • Why do you have to write?

• How will your life be di�erent a�er you �nish this manuscript? What will change?

• How will your life be di�erent a�er you �nish three manuscripts? (Will you feel like a “real” writer?) • How will you feel about yourself a�er you �nish this

manuscript? (Will you have more con�dence?) • How will this feeling help you accomplish other

things in life?

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This is a fast-paced, intense world, but when you have a guide, you will find fun instead of stress. After all, you’ve set out to do something few ever risk doing—accomplish your dream. You will finish that novel and give life to your characters, and you will do it in 30 days’ time. It may not be a perfect man-uscript, ready for publication, but it will be a com-pleted manuscript.

Just imagine for a moment that your manuscript is �nally written. Go ahead—visualize your completed manuscript right now. Doesn’t that feel great? Many writers have written a book in 30 days; some have done it in one week. So commit to your project, and to yourself, and let’s get started!

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“Guard well your spare moments. �ey are like uncut diamonds. Discard them and their value will never be known. Improve them

and they will become the brightest gems in a useful life.” —Ralph Waldo Emerson

T

oo many writers use lack of time as an excuse not to write. When you say you don’t have the time, what you are really saying is, “Something else is more important right now than writing.”

Many parents with a thousand things on their to-do list find time to write; writing is just number one thousand and one. Nora Roberts had a lot on her plate when she started writing—still does—yet she’s found the time to pen more than a 150 novels. How does she, or how does any author, take on the daily duties of life and of writing at the same time?

Successful authors manage their time, pure and simple.

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The easiest way to create a new habit is to make it one of the first things you do each day. As each new day progresses, you can be pulled in a num-ber of different directions. There are simply too many distractions that come on once the day is set in motion, not to mention fatigue.

Time management is really self-management.

What you resolve to do first thing—or at least early in the morning— you will do. It is so much easier to sit down, write a page or two, then conduct your daily business.

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Have you heard of the Pareto principle, or the 80-20 rule? It is the prin-ciple that 20 percent of your time and effort generates 80 percent of the

FOR TIME MANAGEMENT

Stop making excuses. Everyone has time to write—as long

as you have the right mindset. Here’s how to get it.

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results, or that 80 percent of what you accomplish is caused by 20 percent of your effort. Most things in life were found to be distributed this way, like the dis-tribution of wealth: 80 percent of all the money goes to 20 percent of the people. Another example is the number of writers to the percentage of total books sold: 80 percent of books are sold by 20 percent of the authors.

So, if 20 percent of your effort causes 80 of your accomplishments, wouldn’t it be great if you focused on that 20 percent of result-getting effort for 100 per-cent of the time? Of course it would! Think of all the free time you would have if you had to do only a frac-tion, the most effective part, of the daily grind. We all waste time and effort every single day. We do things that will get us nowhere, and that won’t yield any value in our lives. This stuff takes up 80 percent of our effort if we let it. This means that you must:

• drop all that busywork that gets you nowhere • drop all the negative friends who drag you down • drop all the manuscripts you don’t really love,

or those that you started just because you thought they were marketable

• drop all your high expectations (you don’t have to have the cleanest house on the block—one writer was spending six hours every Saturday cleaning her house, and she had no kids or pets!)

When you focus on things that don’t truly matter to you, you are working within the 80 percent of effort that won’t get you the 20-percent results you want.

You want to write a book (it’s your goal—or you wouldn’t be reading this, right?). Focus on this every day for the next month and you will be happy! How wonderful will you feel when you hold that manu-script in your hands? Eliminate your 80 percent of wasted effort. Keep track of your writing time every day. Make it a habit to write down the number of hours you spend on each writing project. Or track word or page counts.

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“Don’t ask for time for yourself. If you ask, people can say no. If you just do it, then you’ve done it and

you’ve got it. Your being happy is the only change they’ll notice.”

—Dr. Mira Kirshenbaum

The point Dr. Kirshenbaum is making is that, while writing may be important to you, few people in your life will see it as important. Many will just see it as an unnecessary indulgence. So just find the time any way you can and take it.

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Henry Kissinger once said: “There cannot be a crisis next week. My schedule is already full.”

For many of us, things that aren’t scheduled don’t get done. We sometimes live from appointment to appointment, trying to squeeze little tasks in between. In fact, without an appointment, some of us just don’t know what to do and often fall victim to another per-son’s request. So, make an appointment with yourself so you can fill your time with writing.

When you have concrete plans, it is much easier to say no to others. You don’t have to make up excuses. “I have a 1 �.�. appointment” is all the explanation

needed. Only you need to know what, when and where you are going.

Appointments tell your creative brain that writing is important. They also tell your muse to get ready: Work time is coming.

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Again, from Dr. Mira Kirshenbaum: “Use money to buy time by using money to get people to do things for you that will save you time.”

Okay, maybe you don’t have tons of money to get babysitters and hire maids, but could you barter for some of these things? Buy frozen dinners? Whittle your cleaning routine down to a bare minimum, once-a-week chore?

How much money is spent on hobbies and enter-tainment in this country? Billions of dollars. Yet when it comes to finding the time to write, we are reluctant to spend any money at all to do it. Why is this? Most hobbies, desires and activities cost something to par-take in it. And these things usually are not part of our lifelong dreams and goals. They most certainly don’t ��

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have much of a chance of giving us a return on our investment. So what’s the problem?

One writer I know spends $80 a month on a hair-cut, yet he can’t imagine splurging on a new notebook to jot down his ideas. For $30 a month, he could have a new laptop computer to write when he has to travel for work, but there is no way he will ever buy it.

It’s all about choices. Remember the financial gurus out there talking about forgoing a latté every day to put that money in the bank? If you stopped treating yourself to that daily latté, you would have more than $100 extra cash every month. Imagine if you factored in the price of a daily muffin. That would be more than $200 every month. What is your “latté” expense? Make it your writing expense now.

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Every time someone or something comes into your life, hold it up to your list of priorities and see if you still want to talk to that person or do that activity. Talking to your angry, gossiping neighbor can take valuable time away from your family and your writ-ing goals.

I know a writer who realized she spent four hours a day watching television. She never saw it before, but logging her time made it clear. Were watching soaps and talk shows worth not finishing her manuscript?

“No way!” she said. “They weren’t even that inter-esting.” (She’s now happily published and occasion-ally records her favorite shows to watch at night.)

Write down a list of your main priorities so you will know where to draw the line when requests are made for your time. Once you know your priorities in life, write down a list of things that take up your time and are not on your priority list.

Can you get rid of the things that aren’t priorities? If not, can you make small appointments to do these things so they don’t take up too much of your time? Can you delegate them to others?

��

Why do so many of us have trouble just saying no? Because most of us have been programmed to say yes,

to be a people pleaser. Usually the problem is that we are afraid of conflict. We think, “What will this per-son do or say if I don’t help out?”

Well, if you can’t stand con�ict in life, then you sure won’t be able to write con�ict on the page. Con�ict is what stories are made of, so get used to it. Enjoy it. When writers can’t stand to do bad things to their char-acters, they usually are terri�ed of con�ict. �ese writ-ers rarely have successful carewrit-ers. Be assertive!

This tip is also all about sticking to your guns, because once you say no to someone, you have to stand firm. If you backpedal, you will lose momen-tum for saying no again in the future. Be true to your word and to yourself. If you say no, it means no.

Also be careful of maybes. Sometimes we feel guilty for saying no, so we instead decide to say maybe to get out of an uncomfortable situation. Don’t do it. Maybes only lead other people on. It leaves them thinking there is hope and that they can wear you down. It also shows them that you devalue your other commitments and aren’t sure of yourself. Always say no firmly and directly. If you really feel bad, say, “No, not until I am finished with a current commitment. Please feel free to check in with me later.”

We have so much more time available to us now than at any other time in history. There was a time when women spent 10 hours doing the laundry by hand; now, we just pop it into a machine. Where did those 10 hours go?

Studies show we actually have too much time available to us, and we squander it. We �ll our days with mean-ingless tasks. We have never been so free, yet failed to realize the extent of our freedom. We have never had so much time, yet felt we had so little. Modern life bullies us to speed up our lives ... but going faster only makes us feel like we’re always behind.

�e trick is to know both your “to-do” and “not to-do” list, to know your wants as well as your don’t-wants. You want to write, so act and plan accordingly.

��

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��

HOW TO

SET WRITING GOALS

YOU’LL ACTUALLY KEEP

Don’t start that manuscript without knowing

what motivates you, and committing to paper

what you intend to accomplish.

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A

s a writer, you are a self-employed creative professional. You create a product (a manu-script) and try to sell it. �at is a business, and all businesses need a plan. Writing down your goals is the �rst (and most important) step to formulating one.

As writers, we always seem to have ideas bouncing around in our heads. If we chased a�er every one of those ideas, we would never get anything accomplished. You know the old saying: Fail to plan, and you plan to fail. It really is true; ask any successful person, and she will tell you that once she wrote down her goals, things really started to happen. Somehow putting things down on paper makes them real. �e subconscious mind is really impressed by it and will usually fall in line and help out. Writing down your goals also makes you think deeply about them. Self-improvement guru Gene Donohue puts it another way: “�e di�erence between a goal and a dream is the written word.”

��

�e �rst step in goal setting is identifying the right proj-ect. To choose the right project, you must �gure out who you are as a writer, or what you’re most passion-ate about—and work that passion into your story. It is important to do this before developing your story idea because your passion will—or should—have a direct in�uence on the idea. Why?

�ere are no shortages of ideas. You cannot copy-right an idea because it is not, by itself, uniquely yours. It is the execution of that idea that makes all the di�er-ence, and that is where goals come into play. Your goals should be detailed enough to ensure that the type of

project you pursue re�ects who you are and what you want your story to encompass.

Take a few minutes to think about the things—the values, the characteristics, the beliefs—that matter most to you:

• What are you passionate about?

• What gives you energy and motivates you? • What keeps showing up again and again in your

stories or the stories you love to read?

If you don’t have a �rm understanding of what you’re passionate about, developing your writing goals can be very hard to do. You’ve got to tackle the big questions: Who am I? What genre should I specialize in? How do I want to be remembered? Many writers have never even considered these questions. �e answers to these and other questions help you �nd your own unique way to execute story ideas.

If you want to stand out in the slush pile, this is extremely important, so pay attention. Let’s take the answers to questions you just completed and go a little further:

• What is important to you creatively? Do you want to educate? Entertain? Scare?

• Do you have a personal cause or agenda that de�nes you? (Animal rescue? Global warming?) • What types of books do you enjoy? Movies? Music? • What types of stories did you like as a child? Once you’ve identi�ed your passions, it’s time to start �guring out how to express them in your story. Remember, if you have an emotional connection to the material you’re writing, it will be that much easier for you to stay invested over the long haul and reach your goals. Beth Mende Conny, a wonderful writing coach

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�e �rst step in goal setting is identifying the right project.

To choose the right project, you must �gure out who you

are as a writer, or what you’re most passionate about.

and founder of WriteDirections.com, came up with the following exercise that I have found to be very helpful in capturing the essence of a story idea.

��

Imagine yourself older, not just by a few years, but by decades. You’re on a porch in a rocking chair, rocking slowly but enjoyably. It’s a lovely day—bright, warm sun, knock-your-socks-o� blue sky, the kind of day that makes you want to sit and rock forever.

Lazily, your eyes sweep the horizon, the vast expanse of grass that gentle �ows into a distant range of so�, wel-coming mountains. You’re feeling peaceful, re�ective as you think back on this gloriously crazy but interesting thing called life.

You remember all you’ve done, from �rst steps to �rst kisses to the �rst time you realized you were a grown-up. You draw to you the faces of those who touched your

life, so�ened its rough edges, those you loved with an aching heart.

You think of favorite places and things: your room as a child, a piece of jewelry still tucked away in a bedroom drawer. Your mind si�s through these memories as if through a box of photographs, each a vivid reminder of where you’ve been, what you’ve done, and who you’ve become. You understand that you won’t be in this rocker or on this porch forever. Life passes quickly … too quickly. But with this bit of knowledge comes another—you know now, in a way you’ve never grasped before, the importance of leaving some part of yourself to the world. You know that you were put on this earth for a reason, and while you may not know the answer in full yet, you know that in part, your purpose was in some way ful-�lled by the writing of your book. You remember it with pride—how writing it demanded your best, making you draw on strengths you never knew you had.

You remember, too, that while your book may not have changed the world, it touched lives. Certainly, it touched yours. It was, as you now know, your way of leaving your mark on the world, your way of saying, “I was here. I mattered.”

�e title of that book was:

And it was about:

�is is a beautiful exercise, and by writing the title and what your book was about, you now have some idea of who you are as a writer. You don’t necessarily have to write this book now. In fact, you may never write this manuscript. �is exercise is about getting in touch with the elements of who you are as a writer. Within your answer you will see certain topics, genres, ideas and directions that best suit you.

��

“If your success is not on your own terms, if it looks good to the world but does not feel good in your heart, it is not success at all.”

—Anna Quindlen

As your passion and story idea merge, be careful you don’t limit yourself. Let’s say you want to write a book that’s about “a strong heroine who overcomes obstacles and learns to love herself.” �is doesn’t mean you have to write chic-lit; it just means that maybe your stories, even if your genre (or editor) calls for a male action hero, should have strong heroines in them, as well as women who overcome obstacles. Can you write a fantasy with this? Yes. Can you write a horror novel with this? Yes.

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�e answer you provided in the Rocking Chair Exercise, which may evolve over time as you evolve, is the core idea and theme of your work. It is what really interests you enough—and therefore motivates you—to put your butt in the chair and write.

Now that you have some insight into who you are as a writer, answer the following questions to see if your cur-rent project represents a blend of your passions:

• If you had to describe your work as a whole in a single line, what would that line be? (Heartfelt stories that make you cry? Smart, steamy ro-mances? Hardcore heroes who risk everything?) • How should your work be remembered?

• Which genre is best for your writing style and interests?

Does your current project meet most of your answers to the above questions? Is this project in line with who you are as a writer? Agents, publicists and publishers also want to know this about you. �ey want to know what makes you di�erent from all the other writers out there. �ey also want to know how to market your work. �ey want something they can sink their teeth into.

��

Here are a few crucial tips on goal setting:

• Make sure your writing goal is something you personally want for yourself. Make sure it is your goal and not something you think you have to do to become successful, like write for the cur-rent market trends, or write something because your mom always wanted you to write it. (Uncle Joe’s life may be funny, but is it 300-pages funny? Do you care?)

• Make sure your writing goals don’t work against each other. You can’t write epic novels and ex-pect to write �ve novels a year.

• Make sure your writing goals don’t work against your life in general. You can’t write 20 romance novels this year if your other goal is to travel the world by boat with �ve friends.

• Always create positive writing goals. Write what you will do, not what you won’t.

• Keep your writing goals speci�c, but leave some wiggle room for creativity.

• Actually write down your writing goals!

• Revise your writing goals as you grow and devel-op as a writer. Every 6–12 months is good, though you will do it more o�en in the beginning. Start small so you don’t get overwhelmed. Just write down your core writing goal for the next 30 days. Make it simple and easy to accomplish. �en if you reach your goal, or even surpass it, you will have given yourself a nice con�dence boost.

Want to write 100 pages in a month? �at seems like a lot … but it’s really 25 pages a week, or, better yet, about three to four pages a day. �is doesn’t seem like too much, and if you happen to miss a day, well, you’ve only fallen behind by three pages. Surely there’s no reason to beat yourself up over that!

When things get tough and you feel like giving up, you can tell yourself that you only have to write four pages today. Write them as quickly (and as horribly) as you need to, but write them. If your goal breaks down to two pages a day … well, you really can’t argue much with that. You could write those during commercials. No excuses.

��

Make sure you reveal your goals only to those who will encourage you. Some friends and family members will always see you as you used to be—the “non-writer.” It is very common for a family unit to discourage change among its members, even if it is for a member’s bene�t. When one member changes, it can stir up too many things for the others. �ey may be forced to look at areas of their lives that they have yet to change for themselves. Many people will �ght this sort of self-exploration. Be sure to surround yourself with sup-portive allies.

As the saying goes: A little child can knock down a sapling oak tree before it has grown strong roots, but once the oak has grown tall enough, almost nothing can knock it down. Establish your roots �rst, then go out there to network and share in your dreams.

��

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��

UNCOVERING

FRESH STORY ID

EAS

Tap your daily life, as w

ell as your imaginatio

n,

for novel-worthy char

acters and plots.

(18)

E

very novel you’ve ever read—including that one that felt so real, you were surprised when you closed it to �nd you were sitting on your couch or propped up in bed—began in the same simple way: with a �eeting thought or image that caught the writer’s attention, held it for a moment and led him to begin asking, “What if … ?”

I don’t mean that the writer began debating the idea intellectually, trying to complicate the idea on purpose. Rather, the writer witnessed something every day that led him to begin daydreaming, not just asking ques-tions but imagining possible answers, constructing sce-narios. Writing a novel begins not in a moment of work but a moment of play, with an intriguing idea or image inspiring the mind toward unexpected leaps and unan-ticipated connections.

For those of us stealing time to write, the implica-tion should be heartening: Your work doesn’t begin the moment you sit down in front of the computer, bor-ing down on the blank screen, wonderbor-ing what you should write about and trying to “come up” with some-thing. �ere are story ideas all around us—ideas rich enough to sustain a lifetime of work—if we’re willing to pay close attention to those things we glimpse out of the corner of our eye, as John Updike once put it, and then let our imaginations linger.

Of course, not everything we glimpse will be enough to form the basis of a novel. What makes a novel idea sustainable is the degree to which it contains, or at least suggests, all other aspects of the book: character, con�ict, plot, tone, theme and more. Put another way, the best ideas already have the potential for a full world. Drawing out that potential, building on it in ways both surprising and inevitable, is the focused work of the novelist.

��

To illustrate, let’s take a look at a fairly clear-cut exercise I use for my creative writing students to get them think-ing about the way initial ideas suggest the larger story. (See the sidebar on this page.)

When I bring this exercise to a class, it usually takes on the feeling of a game, as it should. I ask students for combinations that stand out as interesting or compel-ling, and they call out whatever catches their attention

so we can discuss it. “Racist suicide-hotline volunteer” once prompted 45 minutes of discussion on its own, get-ting laughter at times and, at others, thoughtful silence. We’d come up with a pretty full picture of that twisted, pitiable character by the end of the discussion; maybe one day one of those students will write his story.

Occasionally a student will call out a combination that seems a likely �t and which, for that very reason, ends up being rather useless as grounds for �ction … “kindhearted nun,” for example, or “vain supermodel.” When such an obvious pairing is made, other students usually chime in on why the pair won’t work: We expect our nuns to be kindhearted, just as we expect our super-models to be vain (we’re speaking generally here), and thus there’s nothing surprising or particularly interesting

�� _{��} �� _{��} ��

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��

in the combination. We’d be writing caricature instead of character. �ere’s little there to catch or keep our attention. Sometimes a student will raise her hand and ask why Column A is such a bummer: racist, vain, suicidal, neurotic. Would it kill me to make a column where happier things

are going on? To which I respond: It wouldn’t kill me, but it’d probably kill our story before it started. Fiction thrives on con�ict, and a workable story idea is one in which the con�ict is clear and present in the basic premise.

Again, “kindhearted nun” gives us nothing besides what we already know, but what about jealous nun? Jealous of whom? Jealous over what, exactly, and what might this jealousy lead her to do? Maybe, and we’re just thinking out loud, she’s jealous of a younger nun in her convent and her closeness to God (and notice that as soon as we have a younger nun, our �rst nun becomes older).

As we begin to ask and then answer these questions, the ideas, digressions, wrong turns and occasional direct hits begin to form a story by addressing four basic problems:

1. What does the combination really suggest in terms of what might happen?

2. What would be motivating or driving our main character in such a situation?

3. What would be opposing the character in the situ-ation? (�is could, and probably should, prompt many di�erent answers, some of them small and personal in scope, others large.)

4. What are the emotions evoked by or from the prem-ise that we might consider universal? In other words, what

could any reader identify with, regardless of whether or not she’s ever been in this exact situation?

And there you have it: plot, character, con�ict and theme. We also have a setting, which we’ll want to do some research on (get thee to a nunnery!), and a tone, which is getting pretty dark. We also have a supporting cast to begin thinking about, most notably in the pretty young nun.

��

Once you start recognizing the story ideas that pres-ent themselves almost daily—and paying attpres-ention to where they lead you—you’ll want to keep track of them and recognize which ones might suggest workable sto-ries. To that end, you’ll want to engage in the following:

��Get in the habit of writing your ideas down in a journal so you’ll remember them later. �is should be something small and convenient enough to keep with you at all times; even a back-pocket-sized notebook will do.

��When you come across a new story idea—or, if you already have an idea you’re pondering— put it to the same kind of test as the example from the exercise, seeing how the idea begins to bring up other elements of story (character, con�ict, motivation, plot, setting and so on). Does the initial idea or concept lead to these elements, building step by step? If not, can you �gure out where the idea breaks down? Does the prem-ise suggest a character? Does the character have a clear motivation? Does the motivation suggest a potential con�ict in the story? And so on.

��

It’s true that story ideas will come to you if you learn to pay attention to what’s going on around you and recog-nize those moments when your mind has begun to cre-atively wander. But there are also other ways, and places, you might look for inspiration when you need a boost.

��Sometimes a compelling story idea comes not from any conversation overheard, or anything you catch a glimpse of, but from a little voice that whispers a strange, interesting line in your ear … say, “I have always had an irrational fear of �rst kisses,” or “Her husband had become hooked on daytime soaps,” or “For as long as I’d known her, Jenny had claimed that her dream was to become the ninth ��

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Mrs. Larry King.” A good �rst line begins to suggest char-acter, con�ict, plot, tone and theme the same way a compel-ling initial idea or image does. For example, what do you see present or suggested in the following �rst lines?

In the town, there were two mutes and they were always together. (Carson McCullers, �e Heart Is a Lonely Hunter)

Mother died today. Or maybe yesterday, I can’t be sure. (Albert Camus, �e Stranger)

Something is wrong in the house. (Kathryn Davis, Hell) ��A well-written headline contains enough possibility to get our imaginations working in the right direction (since the headline writer wants us to be intrigued enough to wonder about the story behind the headline and read it). For the �ction writer, we need not read the piece that goes along with a good headline—and in fact we probably shouldn’t. Instead, the headline will make us want to know the story behind it and begin writ-ing it. What really happened isn’t as important to us as what might happen.

Here are a few real-world examples to consider, any one of which might suggest a sustainable story idea:

17 Burn at Same Time to Break Record

S.C. Cheerleader Hunts, Kills 10-Foot-Long Alligator Game Show Looks to Convert Atheists

Jedi �rown Out of Grocery Store

�� Sometimes inspiration for a book will begin before you’ve even hit the �rst chapter, with a title that starts you thinking. I suspect the reason for this is that good titles are o�en di�cult to come up with, so when a good one comes along, it suggests possibilities imme-diately. Keep a page in your notebook just for title ideas. One of them might bring a story along with it.

�� At the risk of sounding obvious, good writers are �rst and foremost good readers. I realize that in our rushed lives, especially for writers with full-time jobs, it can somefull-times be di�cult to slow down, sit down and enjoy a good book. But there can be nothing more instructive, nor more inspiring to your work, than reading a book from an author who does it right. (In

fact, it o�en takes me longer to read a great book than a bad one, simply because every few pages I have to stop to jot down some idea inspired by the text.)

It’s true that you might want to avoid reading other writers when you’re in the midst of your own book, for fear of being in�uenced too much or losing the sound of your voice; that’s a matter of personal preference. But reading consistently, and reading as a writer, can be a constant source of inspiration. Find writers you love, then �nd the writers they love. Reading is the best cre-ative writing course you’ll ever take.

�� Finding beautiful art that speaks to you—no matter what kind—tweaks your art-ist’s brain and opens you up for creative thinking. So, if you ever �nd yourself bere� of inspiration, go out and see a �lm that’s been well reviewed, or rent a classic �lm you’ve never seen. Take a weekend trip to an art show or go browse the art books at the local bookseller. Put on that classic album you haven’t heard in a while, turn down the lights, and really listen to it (rather than hav-ing it on as background noise while you run errands or try to get chores done).

��

�ere are two pieces of writing advice that are so perva-sive, so well known, that even non-writers have heard of them: “write what you know” and “show, don’t tell.” �e problem is, both are to some degree misleading—and even potentially damaging to the creative process—if taken too literally.

��

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��

In terms of your initial ideas and thinking about your story, “write what you know” can be tricky advice. �e rea-son for this is in how most interpret the expression: “Write what I know? I’d better start thinking back to things that have happened to me in the past so I can write about them.” Such a writer then begins re�ecting on those personal moments that had an impact on him or her—purely per-sonal and subjective moments that don’t necessarily mean anything to anyone besides the person remembering.

All of us have had the frustrating experience of try-ing to explain somethtry-ing that aggravated us, or made us happy, or upset us, to someone who wasn’t there, only to have our listener say “uh-huh” and glaze over. In such awkward moments, at least we have a sure�re exit strat-egy: “Well, you just had to be there.” But we don’t have any such luxury when we try to take our personal, sub-jective experiences and make use of them in the public form of the novel. �e last line of your novel can’t be, “Well, you just had to be there.”

Mining our real life for �ction can be problematic. In life, things o�en happen for no apparent rhyme or reason, and, more than that, we o�en do things for no apparent reason, too. We act on impulse, behave in strange ways; we’re contradictory, inconsistent, con-fusing or confused. �us, when we try to use our own, o�en-ba�ing personal experiences in �ction, the result can be confusing for a reader. (Why did the character behave like that? I thought the character wanted [blank], but then she forgot all about it.) Fiction, unlike life, has to be logical, has to build in meaning for a reader, whereas life can be rather chaotic and disjointed.

But this isn’t to say that we don’t ever write what we know. In fact, every time we write we’re bringing some-thing of ourselves and our personal hopes, fears and expe-riences to the text—in how we think about our charac-ters and their experiences, how we think about the ways we would react or feel in a certain situation. �is is how we connect with our characters and stories—by �nding something familiar in their motivations and con�icts, something we’ve felt before that has a bearing on the work, then exploring that feeling in the context of your story—and this is how our readers begin to connect with our characters, too. Even if your story takes place on Mars, in the way-distant future, there’ll be something about the

characters’ plight that is identi�ably human. Finding that everyday human element, and using your own feelings and experiences to explore it further, is what takes a story from a series of things that happen to a complete and meaningful experience for both reader and writer. It’s not a process of telling people what you already know but discovering what you know—and sometimes being sur-prised by what you �nd—through your characters.

��

New novelists seem to have a particular hang-up about making sure their idea has “never been done before.” If you have this worry, let me try and put your mind at ease: It’s all been done before.

�is might sound a bit depressing, at least initially, but once it sinks in you’ll �nd it rather liberating. �ere is no completely new, 100-percent-unique plot idea. �ere is no undiscovered or unheard-of theme or motivation. As high-school English teachers used to say, and probably still do, all of literature might be boiled down to a half-dozen con�icts, and as far as motivations go, there are still just seven Deadly Sins (and maybe as many virtues). �e point is that it’s not the idea but the approach that makes a work original. �e Western canon has no short-age of revenge stories, but there’s still only one Moby-Dick. Bookstores are �lled with coming-of-age novels—they could make a complete section of them, if they wanted.

What makes your book di�erent from every other book out there is that it’s been written by you. It forms, and is formed by, a singular vision that’s uniquely yours (even as a part of your vision has been informed by other people’s visions, the books you’ve read, the litera-ture that inspired you to write in the �rst place).

So don’t get discouraged when you begin to think of books similar to yours, as you undoubtedly will, or when you discuss your story idea with someone who chimes in, without thinking, “Oh, it’s like [blank].” Just nod your head and say, “Sorta.” Because it probably is like a number of other books … but it’s also a particular product of your distinctive vision and voice, which is what makes the work important.

��

Write Your Novel in 30 Days

YOUR COMPLETE GUIDE TO A SOLID FIRST DRAFT

presents

Proven Strategies

for Success

• MASTER THE ELEMENTS OF FICTION

• DEVELOP YOUR STORY ARC:

� PROVEN METHODS

• START STRONG FROM THE FIRST PAGE

Secrets for

Staying on Track

• A DAILY PLANNER FOR WEEK ONE

• � TRICKS FOR MANAGING YOUR TIME

• ��-DAY CALENDAR: YOUR GOALS AT A GLANCE

INCLUDES

�� WORKSHEETS

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WRITE YOUR NOVEL

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�

DAYS

KEEP THE MOMENTUM!

•

THE ULTIMATE REVISION CH

ECKLIST

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LAY THE GROUNDWORK

4

How You Can Write a Book

in a Month

9

7 Tips for Time Management

14

How to Set Writing Goals

You’ll Actually Keep

18

Uncovering Fresh Story Ideas

23

To Outline or Not to Outline?

31

Word Count Basics

GET A RUNNING START

33

Your 7-Day Jumpstart

38

30-Day Calendar

40

Your First Scenes

45

Assemble Your Characters

WRITE YOUR NOVEL

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52

Common Chapter One Pitfalls

BUILD OUT THE STORY

56

Your �ree-Act Structure

63

Scenes: �e Building

Blocks of Your Novel

70

5 Techniques to Keep Your

Story Moving Forward

77

�e Art of Closing Well

EVALUATE, REVISE, SUBMIT

86

�e Ultimate Revision Checklist

97

Preparing a Novel Query

and Submission Package

WORKSHEETS

101

Worksheet Index

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