The Terror of New Beginnings

I tend to plan books far in advance of when I'm going to actually write them. I started taking notes on the first book I completed back in the summer of 2005, and didn't really get started on anything until May 2006. Before that, during my first attempt at writing a novel ever, I started planning it in 1999. Yes, I was ten, and very precocious, but I still used the same world, characters, and general plot that I wanted to use when I started writing in 2003.

When I plan my novels, I like to do chapter-by-chapter outlines, detailing exactly what will happen in each chapter, giving it a title, and trying to shoehorn some character development elements into it. I usually stick to the outlines while I'm writing, occasionally adding a chapter or removing one when I don't feel it's necessary to take the story in that direction.

The one exception to both of these rules was Seafear. Seafear was a kind of fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants novel, which I'd never really done before. I wrote my first notes down for it on August 3, 2008, and I started writing it twelve days later. Yeah, I did an outline for it, but that was abandoned by Chapter Five and I never looked at the outline again until the very ending, when I needed to steal a chapter title. It was a very different experience than what I'd normally done, but it worked out well.

With Seaquel, unlike Seafear, I've been much more strict about adhering to the outline. I already have the bedrock of the first book to build off, so I need to stick to continuity. Seaquel is also the second part of a trilogy (because every debut young adult series needs to be a trilogy is why), so threads that I began to lay in the first book need to be carried through in this one.

With all this in mind, I began plotting out Threequel this weekend (get it?), and it's scaring the bejeesus out of me. If I stick to my outline, this book is going to be a very long one, maybe the length of the sixth Harry Potter book. While overly thick volumes seems to be standard fare for a lot of fantasy series, I've never written anything that crosses over the 100,000-word mark. My longest work was 85,000 words. If Threequel goes as I think it will, it's going to pass 150,000.

That petrifies me and excites me at the same time. Right now I'm focused on Seaquel, but Threequel is going to ultimately be the most difficult, most complex, and hopefully most fulfilling book I'll have written to date. Too bad it won't get written until at least 2011.

Writer's Block

The pithy answer to "What is writer's block?" is "There's no such thing."

This is, ultimately, true. There is no such thing as a disease that prevents you from sitting down and writing. A lot of times, it's a case of lazy. It's when you suddenly realize there are an unlimited number of websites out there, a whole lot of video games to play, friends to talk to, TV to watch, blog posts to write, et cetera, et cetera. Writing on the computer is a dangerous habit, because (for me at least) Facebook inevitably opens.

I've had a hard time making headway in Seaquel lately. (Yes, I'm still being coy about the title. Shut up.) After my last rejection, I've been feeling down about the prospects of Seafear, and it's very hard to force yourself to write when you feel like you can't. I know it's bullshit that I feel that way; both agents who looked at my book said they enjoyed it. But I still worry that it's not going to prove fruitful.

Then I remind myself that I put two years of my life into this thing. On the 25th, the complete manuscript of Seafear will be a year old. On August 15, the story itself turns two. I've put too much into this to be stymied by the inevitable rejection letters that come before that sweet, elusive acceptance letter.

So I'm telling myself I have writer's block right now, because I can't get much done with Seaquel. My poor merry band of pirates have been standing around in a dark corridor for almost two months now, and they really would like to move on with their mission. I'm tantalizingly close to passing 200 pages, which will feel like an accomplishment, so I have reason to write. But I have a severe case of scared and self-doubt (not to mention a little bit of lazy).

The lazy is definitely showing through. After all, there were four seasons of The West Wing to watch when I came home from school, plus plenty of hours to play the Sims 3, and three separate video games that required my immediate and undivided attention.

I need to get back to work. Starting next week, no more nonsense.

More Rejection

I'm writing this mostly in annoyance to the fact that I've now gotten my 13th rejection letter, this one from an agent who requested a full copy of the manuscript.

The one thing I don't get -- and I don't know I ever will, unless I become a literary agent myself -- is what makes a book the right fit for an agent. I've researched these people, plied them with my query letters, have created a "compelling concept," a "vivid world" that I've put "a lot of care into creating" (mushing together a few different agents' words here), but I'm still rejected because Seafear is "not the right fit."

I don't know. It just doesn't make sense to me.