Don't! Not yet!
Okay, let's back up a step. If you've just completed National Novel Writing Month for the first time (http://nanowrimo.org) you're probably riding the crest of your success, thrilled with your book, and already thinking of what to wear at your first book signing.
I get it. Even though I'm a jaded old lady who knits socks on cold nights, I get it. Right now, you love your book. Love it with every last atom of your heart, and you want it in the hands of readers who will love it just as much as you do and sketch pictures of your favorite scenes to post on their tumblr pages where they tell all their friends to buy your book. You can't even think "my book" without thinking 💜my book💜. I've been there.
Do not try to publish it yet.
1) Your book needs time.
Let your book "rest" a bit so you have time to come down from the endorphin rush. You're in love. You're producing so much oxytocin that you could singlehandedly power a rocket to Neptune and then ride a gravity whip out to Pluto. That's not the time to make any kind of judgment about your book.
Go read someone else's book and force yourself not to look at your manuscript for a little while. Later you can come back to it and be a little more objective about the main character, the plot, the setting -- you know, the small details people tend to want to hang together in a story.
If you have a nagging concern in the back of your mind about one specific part of the story, it's probably correct. Even if you don't yet know how to fix it.
2) Your book needs feedback.
Find a few avid readers who aren't afraid of tears or screaming, and ask them if they'll read the first draft of your book. You might have to look online for what's known as a "beta-reader" but do find one, someone who will read through the story and be unafraid to voice all those repeating concerns you had in the back of your head. You know, about things like the main character, the plot, the setting... It has to be someone who's not afraid to say things like, "I didn't care what happened to your main character" and "Why didn't he just get in his car and leave the house full of spiders?"
(Yes, even if neither of those things apply to 💜your book.💜 A beta-reader must be tactful but fearless.)
It doesn't feel good to get negative comments, but trust me, when the book is published, no one will hesitate to bestow them upon you by the crate-load. And if you're going to publish traditionally, agents and editors also won't worry about your feelings. If you get a negative response at all, it will be along the lines of, "Not for me." You'll need actual feedback.
3) Your book needs detailed critique and an editor.
Once you've gotten through some beta readers, you want a critique partner to go over the book with you on a much more detailed level. Ideally this should be another writer, that way the two of you can chew on different solutions to complex problems. A beta reader might know the plot is confusing but a critique partner will be the one to point out that these three characters could be combined into one character without any damage to the plot, or that the main character's stakes should be raised in Act III (and then make a suggestion on how to do it.)
4) Your book needs a sharp query and an interesting synopsis
Get both of those ready before you start pitching to agents. Make sure you know exactly how querying works and what to expect when you approach agents. Learn what agents do. If you're going to approach small publishers, you'll need to know what they do too, and the kinds of things they want to see. Get other eyes on your query to make sure it's a tantalizing sales letter for your book.
5) Your book needs not to fall prey to scammers.
The larger NaNoWriMo gets, the more predators are going to try making money off it. Before you even consider publishing your book, you need to learn how publishing works, both traditional and independent. The QueryTracker blog is a good start (this site, if you got here by googling "publishing my nanowrimo novel") but you should also find guidance in writing groups. Double check that any service you use is not a scam.
Traditional agents do not charge money to read or represent your manuscript. Traditional publishers do not charge money to publish your manuscript. You should not be bound by contract to purchase a certain number of your own books. You should not have to earn back the publisher's net expenses before receiving royalties. You should be the owner of your own copyright. You should not be forced to sign a non-compete clause. You should have a lawyer review any contract you sign and be prepared that every sentence of any contract will be leveled against you in the worst possible way. If you can't abide by the strictest interpretation of the document, don't sign the contract.
Many writers are desperate to get their stories out there, but if you try too soon, you will undercut your book's success. Your story...I mean, 💜your story💜 deserves the best you can give it. That means time, editing, and honest business practices.
You finished! Congratulations! Now give 💜your book💜 a huggle and tuck it in to rest for a little while.
---
Tuesday, November 29, 2016
Tuesday, November 22, 2016
NaNoWriMo for the rest of us...
The QueryTracker Blog Crew are busy getting ready for this week's holiday. In the spirit of the real Reason for the Season--by which I mean NaNoWriMo--I'm sharing a past article on my own NaNo misadventures. Enjoy, and Happy Thanksgiving to all to celebrate! ~*~ Cheers, Ash
I have a confession to make: I’ve NaNo’d. And I’ve NaNo’d badly.
I know the rules for National Novel Writing Month. It’s all about the word count. The aim is to bar all excuses and get that first draft down. Goal is 50,000 words in the thirty days of November, during which you mark your progress in your NaNo profile.
For the past three years, I’ve used NaNo to plump up the word counts of my side projects while working on my Demimonde series. But I’ve never hit my 50k goal. Not once.
The biggest obstacle to getting my first draft down isn’t writer’s block or inspiration or ambition. Plain and simple, it’s time. I work full-time outside the home (as well as inside the home, thanks to my wonder
fully over-active family life). My writing time is at a premium: solitary mornings between school bus and work, waiting time while kids are at judo, a few hours on my days off.
I’m willing to try any system that forces me to sit down and write. This summer, I participated in a Fast Draft with a group of writers, during which we wrote in sprints with support from each other. I had a major deadline to meet and the week-long event fueled my drive to meet it. (For more on my experience with Fast Draft, read this.)
The annual NaNo is another tool I try to use, but I always feel like I join in with a handicap.
Think thirty days is too short a time to write a novel draft? Try ten. That’s all the time I have to participate. I suppose if I could write 5k a day on each of those ten days, I’d have it made. Although I have never actually managed that, it does provide me with a theoretically plausible goal. That’s why I NaNo each year—there’s always hope.
NaNo: The Winners
I envy those writers who win their NaNo. I see their proclamations and their nifty I WON badges all over the place and I invariably end up scolding myself for not trying harder. But I don’t scold very hard or very long because, while I was never a definitive winner, I usually got good work done.
And NaNo’ing isn’t just designed to give writers an exercise in endurance or inspiration to get those latent stories written. Our WriMo books aren’t always meant to hide away in drawers and on hard drives. I’ve read accounts where writers went on to finish the books and get them published. You can see the lists of books that NaNo participants have published, many by traditional houses.
Stuff like that is inspirational. More so, it's intimidating for the rest of us.
Sure, there are loads of NaNo winners, and heaps of success stories for the books that made it to the light of day. But I was never one of them. I’ve never hit 50k in a month. I’ve never ended up with a first draft by November 30th. That’s why I feel like a bad NaNo’er.
My project in 2011 fared pretty well, with just over 30K for the month. I might have actually written a little more, but I was doing final edits on the first Demimonde novel, which came out the following March. NaNo 2012 was completely abysmal by comparison; I simply wasn’t committed to the project because I was busy promoting the first Demimonde book while editing the second, which was due out in six months. I think I spent more time revamping my NaNo profile than I did writing.
This past November, my edits on the third Demimonde book had been submitted early and I was between projects. I had space to breathe and think about an unfinished project that had been brewing in the back of my head. Although I only spent six days on NaNo 2013, I managed 15k words, plus a synopsis. (I think the synopsis impressed me more than anything because books are easy, by comparison.)
Three years, three projects, and none of them “winners”.
The Rest Of Us
But I didn’t lose. Not by a long shot. Despite my shortcomings, I think there may be hope for me yet because I decided NaNoWriting doesn’t have to be limited to a single “Mo”.
The project from 2011 didn’t just evaporate in the ether. I pulled it out this past summer and read through the unfinished book. I still loved the idea of the story and decided those 30k words were too much to let languish. In August, I resurrected the file and enlisted the help of a professional reference/fellow author/good friend and began investigating the details of the psychology in the story. I went on to finish the first draft in early October and revised over the next two months. Bugged a few beta readers, entered a few contests, revised some more…and today it’s ready for the eyes of an editor.
It took two years, but my NaNo ’11 book got written, got edited, and got submitted. Hopefully, it’ll get published, too.
Two years to a complete first draft. Not thirty days. And I don’t feel bad about it.
The True Spirit of NaNoWriMo
In the meantime, I carry a bit of NaNo around in my writer’s soul every day. I look forward to the NaNo emails that arrive throughout the year.
Right now we are in the "I Wrote a Novel, Now What?" months. A recent email addressed helpful topics for all writers, including tips on editing, participation in writers’ communities, and an invitation to a program on the subject of self-publishing.
Writing a novel isn’t a dash. It’s more like a relay race, and your novel is the baton. The first leg of the race is the first draft. Then, you pass the baton on to the edits and revisions, which make several more laps. The race still doesn’t end there; you hand the baton off to critique partners or beta readers. Perhaps you’ll pass it to an agent or the editor of a small press. Then the edits and revisions do a few more laps before reaching the finish line, where your readers await.
Does it sound like a lot of running in circles? Sure it does. But never for one moment think you aren’t going anywhere. Even a spring can be straightened into a straight line—and the length of it may surprise you.
Some writers can get the first lap done in thirty days, during NaNoWriMo. I’m not one of them. But I do encourage every writer to participate. Don’t miss out on a fabulous program just because you can’t write for thirty days or because you’re sure you can’t get that word count down. You may not make the 50k goal and you may not earn a Winner’s badge, but you’ll have a new reason to sit and write, a source of encouragement and support, and access to helpful resources throughout the year.
In the long run, you just might finish that book, and edit it, and publish it. To me, that’s a huge win.
Author's note: out of the four books I started during NaNo, two are now published. One is through The Wild Rose Press and has won several awards...the other became my indie-pubbed international best seller.
Do not underestimate the power of the work you do during NaNo. Start writing, keep writing, and don't slow down! Good luck, everyone.
I have a confession to make: I’ve NaNo’d. And I’ve NaNo’d badly.
I know the rules for National Novel Writing Month. It’s all about the word count. The aim is to bar all excuses and get that first draft down. Goal is 50,000 words in the thirty days of November, during which you mark your progress in your NaNo profile.
For the past three years, I’ve used NaNo to plump up the word counts of my side projects while working on my Demimonde series. But I’ve never hit my 50k goal. Not once.
The biggest obstacle to getting my first draft down isn’t writer’s block or inspiration or ambition. Plain and simple, it’s time. I work full-time outside the home (as well as inside the home, thanks to my wonder
fully over-active family life). My writing time is at a premium: solitary mornings between school bus and work, waiting time while kids are at judo, a few hours on my days off.I’m willing to try any system that forces me to sit down and write. This summer, I participated in a Fast Draft with a group of writers, during which we wrote in sprints with support from each other. I had a major deadline to meet and the week-long event fueled my drive to meet it. (For more on my experience with Fast Draft, read this.)
The annual NaNo is another tool I try to use, but I always feel like I join in with a handicap.
Think thirty days is too short a time to write a novel draft? Try ten. That’s all the time I have to participate. I suppose if I could write 5k a day on each of those ten days, I’d have it made. Although I have never actually managed that, it does provide me with a theoretically plausible goal. That’s why I NaNo each year—there’s always hope.
NaNo: The Winners
I envy those writers who win their NaNo. I see their proclamations and their nifty I WON badges all over the place and I invariably end up scolding myself for not trying harder. But I don’t scold very hard or very long because, while I was never a definitive winner, I usually got good work done.
And NaNo’ing isn’t just designed to give writers an exercise in endurance or inspiration to get those latent stories written. Our WriMo books aren’t always meant to hide away in drawers and on hard drives. I’ve read accounts where writers went on to finish the books and get them published. You can see the lists of books that NaNo participants have published, many by traditional houses.
Stuff like that is inspirational. More so, it's intimidating for the rest of us.
Sure, there are loads of NaNo winners, and heaps of success stories for the books that made it to the light of day. But I was never one of them. I’ve never hit 50k in a month. I’ve never ended up with a first draft by November 30th. That’s why I feel like a bad NaNo’er.
My project in 2011 fared pretty well, with just over 30K for the month. I might have actually written a little more, but I was doing final edits on the first Demimonde novel, which came out the following March. NaNo 2012 was completely abysmal by comparison; I simply wasn’t committed to the project because I was busy promoting the first Demimonde book while editing the second, which was due out in six months. I think I spent more time revamping my NaNo profile than I did writing.
This past November, my edits on the third Demimonde book had been submitted early and I was between projects. I had space to breathe and think about an unfinished project that had been brewing in the back of my head. Although I only spent six days on NaNo 2013, I managed 15k words, plus a synopsis. (I think the synopsis impressed me more than anything because books are easy, by comparison.)
Three years, three projects, and none of them “winners”.
The Rest Of Us
But I didn’t lose. Not by a long shot. Despite my shortcomings, I think there may be hope for me yet because I decided NaNoWriting doesn’t have to be limited to a single “Mo”.
The project from 2011 didn’t just evaporate in the ether. I pulled it out this past summer and read through the unfinished book. I still loved the idea of the story and decided those 30k words were too much to let languish. In August, I resurrected the file and enlisted the help of a professional reference/fellow author/good friend and began investigating the details of the psychology in the story. I went on to finish the first draft in early October and revised over the next two months. Bugged a few beta readers, entered a few contests, revised some more…and today it’s ready for the eyes of an editor.
It took two years, but my NaNo ’11 book got written, got edited, and got submitted. Hopefully, it’ll get published, too.
Two years to a complete first draft. Not thirty days. And I don’t feel bad about it.
The True Spirit of NaNoWriMo
In the meantime, I carry a bit of NaNo around in my writer’s soul every day. I look forward to the NaNo emails that arrive throughout the year.
Right now we are in the "I Wrote a Novel, Now What?" months. A recent email addressed helpful topics for all writers, including tips on editing, participation in writers’ communities, and an invitation to a program on the subject of self-publishing.
Writing a novel isn’t a dash. It’s more like a relay race, and your novel is the baton. The first leg of the race is the first draft. Then, you pass the baton on to the edits and revisions, which make several more laps. The race still doesn’t end there; you hand the baton off to critique partners or beta readers. Perhaps you’ll pass it to an agent or the editor of a small press. Then the edits and revisions do a few more laps before reaching the finish line, where your readers await.
Does it sound like a lot of running in circles? Sure it does. But never for one moment think you aren’t going anywhere. Even a spring can be straightened into a straight line—and the length of it may surprise you.
Some writers can get the first lap done in thirty days, during NaNoWriMo. I’m not one of them. But I do encourage every writer to participate. Don’t miss out on a fabulous program just because you can’t write for thirty days or because you’re sure you can’t get that word count down. You may not make the 50k goal and you may not earn a Winner’s badge, but you’ll have a new reason to sit and write, a source of encouragement and support, and access to helpful resources throughout the year.
In the long run, you just might finish that book, and edit it, and publish it. To me, that’s a huge win.
Author's note: out of the four books I started during NaNo, two are now published. One is through The Wild Rose Press and has won several awards...the other became my indie-pubbed international best seller.
Do not underestimate the power of the work you do during NaNo. Start writing, keep writing, and don't slow down! Good luck, everyone.
Ash Krafton is a speculative fiction writer who, despite having a Time Turner under her couch and three different sonic screwdrivers in her purse, still encounters difficulty with time management. She's the author of the urban fantasy trilogy The Books of the Demimonde as well as WORDS THAT BIND. She also writes for YA and NA audiences under the pen name AJ Krafton. THE HEARTBEAT THIEF, her Victorian dark fantasy inspired by Poe’s “The Masque of the Red Death” (and NaNo project), is now available.
Tuesday, November 15, 2016
For When Things Aren't Working Out
Ash had a wonderful post last week about the bravery and necessity of creating plans. Unlike her, I am and always have been a planner, not a pantser. I have made new year's resolutions without fail since I was 17 years old. For something like the past 5 years, I've broken those resolutions into quarterly, monthly, and, ultimately, weekly goals. I like check marks. I like seeing my progress. I will argue to a stalemate with anyone who tells me lists aren't important.
But, as Eisenhower says, "...I have always founds that plans are useless, but planning is indispensable."
We've talked about how indispensable planning is, so I want to focus on how useless the plans themselves can be sometimes.
In 2011, I had some ambitions new year's resolutions. Already a resolutions veteran, I knew I had to make actionable, measurable goals if I wanted to get anywhere. So I did. And one of the things on my list was to be able to run two miles without having to walk. I was getting married that September, and though I wasn't out of shape, I certainly wasn't in shape, either. So I joined a gym and got on a treadmill. I followed my plan.
By early summer, I still couldn't run two miles, and I'd learned something: I hated running. I didn't enjoy that time in the gym at all. I had to focus on anything else to keep me on the treadmill. My knee, which has a stress injury from doing gymnastics as a kid, was hurting me again. Instead of looking forward to meeting my goal, I was looking forward to lifting weights, which I did after my dreaded time on the treadmill.
That goal, and many others in 2011, I never met. But I learned a lot about myself in making them. At the time, I was frustrated that I didn't meet my goal, instead of happy that I learned something.
Fast forward two years to when I decided to write a novel. I made a plan: write it, edit it, query it, publish it, profit. Simple. I planned on the whole process going quickly, so I edited as little as my CPs would let me get away with. I started querying long before the book was ready. I wrote another book, edited it, queried it. I saw some small problems with how the plot was going, and knew my word count was on the short end. I decided the agent who would inevitably fall in love with my book was going to help me fix it, so why bother.
When 2016 started, I had 40,000 words of novel #3 and no agent. My goal for this year was to finish my third novel and be querying before the year was out. I finished my first draft at the end of May, but unlike with my previous novels, I decided to take the advice of basically the entire writing world and set it aside for a month. So I did. Then, as I revised, I was determined to do the best I could by this book, because it's one I really believe in. So it's the middle of November and not a single critique partner has seen my novel yet. I'm not going to be sending out my first query by the end of the year.
I need to remind myself that it isn't a failed goal. It isn't something I stopped working toward, and it isn't a story I gave up on. The unchecked box on my Resolutions page represents not giving up, but hope. I believe in this book, so I'm going to take the time I need to make it as good as I possibly can before I query it. I'm going to send out the most polished writing I can muster.
Without my plan, I would never have gotten as far as I have on this book. Every week, I write out a new micro-goal that will push me closer to sending this book to my critique partners, and ultimately to agents. Every week, I fail that micro-goal but make progress. I am not defined by that box I won't check at the end of the year, because that goal is the reason I am as far as I am, and the unchecked box is my hope that this book, with enough time, will succeed.
But, as Eisenhower says, "...I have always founds that plans are useless, but planning is indispensable."
We've talked about how indispensable planning is, so I want to focus on how useless the plans themselves can be sometimes.
In 2011, I had some ambitions new year's resolutions. Already a resolutions veteran, I knew I had to make actionable, measurable goals if I wanted to get anywhere. So I did. And one of the things on my list was to be able to run two miles without having to walk. I was getting married that September, and though I wasn't out of shape, I certainly wasn't in shape, either. So I joined a gym and got on a treadmill. I followed my plan.
By early summer, I still couldn't run two miles, and I'd learned something: I hated running. I didn't enjoy that time in the gym at all. I had to focus on anything else to keep me on the treadmill. My knee, which has a stress injury from doing gymnastics as a kid, was hurting me again. Instead of looking forward to meeting my goal, I was looking forward to lifting weights, which I did after my dreaded time on the treadmill.
That goal, and many others in 2011, I never met. But I learned a lot about myself in making them. At the time, I was frustrated that I didn't meet my goal, instead of happy that I learned something.
Fast forward two years to when I decided to write a novel. I made a plan: write it, edit it, query it, publish it, profit. Simple. I planned on the whole process going quickly, so I edited as little as my CPs would let me get away with. I started querying long before the book was ready. I wrote another book, edited it, queried it. I saw some small problems with how the plot was going, and knew my word count was on the short end. I decided the agent who would inevitably fall in love with my book was going to help me fix it, so why bother.
When 2016 started, I had 40,000 words of novel #3 and no agent. My goal for this year was to finish my third novel and be querying before the year was out. I finished my first draft at the end of May, but unlike with my previous novels, I decided to take the advice of basically the entire writing world and set it aside for a month. So I did. Then, as I revised, I was determined to do the best I could by this book, because it's one I really believe in. So it's the middle of November and not a single critique partner has seen my novel yet. I'm not going to be sending out my first query by the end of the year.
I need to remind myself that it isn't a failed goal. It isn't something I stopped working toward, and it isn't a story I gave up on. The unchecked box on my Resolutions page represents not giving up, but hope. I believe in this book, so I'm going to take the time I need to make it as good as I possibly can before I query it. I'm going to send out the most polished writing I can muster.
Without my plan, I would never have gotten as far as I have on this book. Every week, I write out a new micro-goal that will push me closer to sending this book to my critique partners, and ultimately to agents. Every week, I fail that micro-goal but make progress. I am not defined by that box I won't check at the end of the year, because that goal is the reason I am as far as I am, and the unchecked box is my hope that this book, with enough time, will succeed.
Rochelle Deans sometimes feels like the only writer on the planet who rushes through the writing so she can start editing. She lives in Portland, Oregon with her husband and two kids two and under. Her bad habits include mispronouncing words, correcting grammar, and spending far too much time on the Internet.
Tuesday, November 8, 2016
When Your One Year Plan Looks Nothing Like It Had On Your Five Year Plan Four Years Ago
When I was a freshman in college, I met an upper-classman who had a Five Year Plan. One day, he let me see it.
I got hives looking at it. Not only did his planning make me feel like a useless, going-nowhere ingénue, it made me worry that I'd never know enough or be good enough at anything to actually be able to plan anything the way he did.
I suppose all freshmen feel like that. I outgrew it, to some degree, but never got over being intimidated by the idea of a Five Year Plan.
If you're like me, you hate the idea of planning things out but know that without a plan, you'd collapse into a pile of useless click-bait clicking and Candy Crushing.
I once called myself a die-hard pantser. Give me pantsing or give me death! was my battle cry. (Not to confuse pantsing with "a pantsing". Moving right along.)
When I started writing seriously more than ten years ago (gah, wrinkles pop out just by writing that), I had no plan. I had a dayjob and two young children and a bossy dog that stole entire loaves of bread off the kitchen table. Writing was my escape from that. The hour or two that I spent a day thinking about my first novel were respite. It was legal daydreaming. The only plan was to see what would happen next.
I wrote my first novel in a series of vignettes, scenes and conversations and fun little action-packed sequences. There was no outline. There was no formula. There was no plan for what I'd do if I ever got to the words THE END.
Imagine my dismay when I did type those words and realized I had a novel staring back at me. Like bringing a first baby home from the hospital, I knew I had to do something with it, and I'd better learn how to do it--FAST.
Thus, the first plan was born: I had a book. I had the choice to do something with it or let it get forgotten in a Word folder.
My first One Year Plan was super-sketchy. I mean, if it hadn't been safely home-schooled, it would have dropped out when all the other One Year Plans made fun of it. (I also had a secret Five Year Plan, which only included World Domination, but, honestly, who doesn't have one of those?)
The OYP had vague things like Edit Manuscript, Enter Contests, Join Writers Group. They were doable. Baby steps, right? And, unlike a FYP, a OYP didn't give me hives.
There was also an addendum to the OYP that I referred to as the "After OYP", vaguely time-framed because I had no idea how long anything would take to do. Heck, the term ONE YEAR Plan in itself was vague because I never specified if it was an Earth year. (I still won't and you can't make me.) The AOYP included Seek Representation, Finish Book Two, Finish Book Three, Develop Platform, Write and Publish Poetry and Short Fiction.
I still can't say that, at the time, I considered any of this stuff an actual "plan". There were more like goals. The difference between plans and goals is that a plan has a timeframe or completion date. And there was no way I would pin myself to something like that, because I was still learning how to be a writer. I was still learning the craft and the business. You can't make a stable plan when you're still pantsing your way through it all.
So I pantsed along, making goals and changing them with things didn't go the way I'd hoped, and waded through a series of non-concrete OYPs. No failures, just redirections, and eventually, successes.
My first novel was published by a small press in 2012. It had been signed in a three book agreement the year before, after having a string of big accomplishments in the RWA chapter competition scene. The book and I had come a long way since I typed the words THE END in 2007. So had the ever-changing OYP.
No legit FYP, though, because I was still intimidated by them. OYPs were fluid and had more goals than deadlines. One thing, for sure, was that I never had a Five Year Plan that included See First Novel Published. (World Domination seemed like it had a better chance of happening first.)
Prior to 2007, I didn't have a FYP because I had no plan, just a hobby. That hobby evolved as I began placing in writing contests, getting poetry and short fiction published, and actually earning money from it all. Basically, the hobby was becoming a job.
And when you have a job, you need to have a plan. I had to get over the whole FYPs-give-me-hives thing.
We plan because if it's a job we like, we want to keep it. A lot of authors get lucky with their first book, getting it to the right place at the right time. But even those cases of serendipity had a plan behind it, as super-sketchy as it may have been.
People get lucky, but not so lucky as to have kept their work to themselves, done nothing to improve their craft, and bumped into a random stranger in the frozen food aisle who remarked, "Tater tots? I bet you're a novelist. I just happen to work for the biggest of the Big Five. Sign this, here's your advance. Oh, I also have an extra coupon for those tots. Here you go."
So I saw my first book published in 2012. I also wrote my first FYP. It was time.
Next year will be Year Five. I decided to crack open the vault and take a look back to way back then (another wrinkle just exploded somewhere, I can feel it.) In 2012, my FYP looked like this:
• Promote Book #1.
• Complete revisions on Book #2 within 6 months.
• Be ready for publication of #2 in 12 months.
• Finish Book #3 within 6 months.
• Begin revisions on #3 in 12 months.
• Attend conference within 12 months.
• Arrange library visit within 12 months.
• Plan and write new story idea out aiming for 1 new title each year.
• Get 10 poetry/short fiction pieces each year years 2 through 5.
And that was it. Some of those goals, to me, seemed pretty darn reaching.
Like, super-reachy. I mean, a new novel each year? For an emerging writer? With a full time dayjob and two middle-schoolers and a bossy dog who learned how to steal the butter while she was stealing a loaf of bread off the table?
Sure, why not? Because, although I'd pantsed my way through a slew of OYPs up to that point, I'd accomplished some pretty neat stuff.
So, now to the big question of the day: Am I following my plan?
Actually, yeah. No one is more surprised than I am.
I did see books #2 and #3 published in 2013 and 2014. I did get many short pieces published, well over the goal I'd set. I did a con and a few library appearances. And that novel a year thing, that super-reachy over-the-top goal? I did it. I sat my butt down and I wrote those books. If it wasn't for all those Plans, I might have dribbled away all my writing time on BuzzFeed and Netflix (I just discovered Royal Pains. #Boris!)
But there is a huge difference, now. I rely on yearly plans to keep going. I don't even need anti-histimines to keep the hives away when I think of a FYP. My system stopped rejecting the idea of structure when it realized structure makes me productive.
Another difference is that my OYPs are a lot more specific. In particular, my OYPs looks nothing like the vagueness of 2012's FYP. Here's why:
I've grown as a writer, indie author, entrepreneur. I learned how to network and I have a wonderful professional pool of writers and publishers who share camaraderie and resources. I'm neck-deep in the business. I can make plans because I know what I'm capable of getting done.
But I also know I'm not done learning. I'm pretty sure my OYPs are going to get more and more detailed as I learn more about publishing, promotion, marketing, and yes—writing. Writers never stop learning how to write.
And new opportunities for authors never stop coming. I listened to a podcast in August that really had the gears turning in my head. In fact, that same day I added "Participate in NYT-worthy box set" to my FYP.
Super-reachy, I know. Especially with two teen-aged kids, a fuller-than-ever full time dayjob, and a dog that needs things reached off the table for her because she's not a puppy anymore.
But the world changes around us every day...The least we can do is develop plans that can change in time with it.
I got hives looking at it. Not only did his planning make me feel like a useless, going-nowhere ingénue, it made me worry that I'd never know enough or be good enough at anything to actually be able to plan anything the way he did.
I suppose all freshmen feel like that. I outgrew it, to some degree, but never got over being intimidated by the idea of a Five Year Plan.
If you're like me, you hate the idea of planning things out but know that without a plan, you'd collapse into a pile of useless click-bait clicking and Candy Crushing.
I once called myself a die-hard pantser. Give me pantsing or give me death! was my battle cry. (Not to confuse pantsing with "a pantsing". Moving right along.)
When I started writing seriously more than ten years ago (gah, wrinkles pop out just by writing that), I had no plan. I had a dayjob and two young children and a bossy dog that stole entire loaves of bread off the kitchen table. Writing was my escape from that. The hour or two that I spent a day thinking about my first novel were respite. It was legal daydreaming. The only plan was to see what would happen next.
I wrote my first novel in a series of vignettes, scenes and conversations and fun little action-packed sequences. There was no outline. There was no formula. There was no plan for what I'd do if I ever got to the words THE END.
Imagine my dismay when I did type those words and realized I had a novel staring back at me. Like bringing a first baby home from the hospital, I knew I had to do something with it, and I'd better learn how to do it--FAST.
Thus, the first plan was born: I had a book. I had the choice to do something with it or let it get forgotten in a Word folder.
My first One Year Plan was super-sketchy. I mean, if it hadn't been safely home-schooled, it would have dropped out when all the other One Year Plans made fun of it. (I also had a secret Five Year Plan, which only included World Domination, but, honestly, who doesn't have one of those?)
The OYP had vague things like Edit Manuscript, Enter Contests, Join Writers Group. They were doable. Baby steps, right? And, unlike a FYP, a OYP didn't give me hives.
There was also an addendum to the OYP that I referred to as the "After OYP", vaguely time-framed because I had no idea how long anything would take to do. Heck, the term ONE YEAR Plan in itself was vague because I never specified if it was an Earth year. (I still won't and you can't make me.) The AOYP included Seek Representation, Finish Book Two, Finish Book Three, Develop Platform, Write and Publish Poetry and Short Fiction.
I still can't say that, at the time, I considered any of this stuff an actual "plan". There were more like goals. The difference between plans and goals is that a plan has a timeframe or completion date. And there was no way I would pin myself to something like that, because I was still learning how to be a writer. I was still learning the craft and the business. You can't make a stable plan when you're still pantsing your way through it all.
So I pantsed along, making goals and changing them with things didn't go the way I'd hoped, and waded through a series of non-concrete OYPs. No failures, just redirections, and eventually, successes.
My first novel was published by a small press in 2012. It had been signed in a three book agreement the year before, after having a string of big accomplishments in the RWA chapter competition scene. The book and I had come a long way since I typed the words THE END in 2007. So had the ever-changing OYP.
No legit FYP, though, because I was still intimidated by them. OYPs were fluid and had more goals than deadlines. One thing, for sure, was that I never had a Five Year Plan that included See First Novel Published. (World Domination seemed like it had a better chance of happening first.)
Prior to 2007, I didn't have a FYP because I had no plan, just a hobby. That hobby evolved as I began placing in writing contests, getting poetry and short fiction published, and actually earning money from it all. Basically, the hobby was becoming a job.
And when you have a job, you need to have a plan. I had to get over the whole FYPs-give-me-hives thing.
We plan because if it's a job we like, we want to keep it. A lot of authors get lucky with their first book, getting it to the right place at the right time. But even those cases of serendipity had a plan behind it, as super-sketchy as it may have been.
People get lucky, but not so lucky as to have kept their work to themselves, done nothing to improve their craft, and bumped into a random stranger in the frozen food aisle who remarked, "Tater tots? I bet you're a novelist. I just happen to work for the biggest of the Big Five. Sign this, here's your advance. Oh, I also have an extra coupon for those tots. Here you go."
So I saw my first book published in 2012. I also wrote my first FYP. It was time.
Next year will be Year Five. I decided to crack open the vault and take a look back to way back then (another wrinkle just exploded somewhere, I can feel it.) In 2012, my FYP looked like this:
• Promote Book #1.
• Complete revisions on Book #2 within 6 months.
• Be ready for publication of #2 in 12 months.
• Finish Book #3 within 6 months.
• Begin revisions on #3 in 12 months.
• Attend conference within 12 months.
• Arrange library visit within 12 months.
• Plan and write new story idea out aiming for 1 new title each year.
• Get 10 poetry/short fiction pieces each year years 2 through 5.
And that was it. Some of those goals, to me, seemed pretty darn reaching.
Like, super-reachy. I mean, a new novel each year? For an emerging writer? With a full time dayjob and two middle-schoolers and a bossy dog who learned how to steal the butter while she was stealing a loaf of bread off the table?
Sure, why not? Because, although I'd pantsed my way through a slew of OYPs up to that point, I'd accomplished some pretty neat stuff.
So, now to the big question of the day: Am I following my plan?
Actually, yeah. No one is more surprised than I am.
I did see books #2 and #3 published in 2013 and 2014. I did get many short pieces published, well over the goal I'd set. I did a con and a few library appearances. And that novel a year thing, that super-reachy over-the-top goal? I did it. I sat my butt down and I wrote those books. If it wasn't for all those Plans, I might have dribbled away all my writing time on BuzzFeed and Netflix (I just discovered Royal Pains. #Boris!)
But there is a huge difference, now. I rely on yearly plans to keep going. I don't even need anti-histimines to keep the hives away when I think of a FYP. My system stopped rejecting the idea of structure when it realized structure makes me productive.
Another difference is that my OYPs are a lot more specific. In particular, my OYPs looks nothing like the vagueness of 2012's FYP. Here's why:
I've grown as a writer, indie author, entrepreneur. I learned how to network and I have a wonderful professional pool of writers and publishers who share camaraderie and resources. I'm neck-deep in the business. I can make plans because I know what I'm capable of getting done.
But I also know I'm not done learning. I'm pretty sure my OYPs are going to get more and more detailed as I learn more about publishing, promotion, marketing, and yes—writing. Writers never stop learning how to write.
And new opportunities for authors never stop coming. I listened to a podcast in August that really had the gears turning in my head. In fact, that same day I added "Participate in NYT-worthy box set" to my FYP.
Super-reachy, I know. Especially with two teen-aged kids, a fuller-than-ever full time dayjob, and a dog that needs things reached off the table for her because she's not a puppy anymore.
But the world changes around us every day...The least we can do is develop plans that can change in time with it.
Ash Krafton is a speculative fiction writer who, despite having a Time Turner under her couch and three different sonic screwdrivers in her purse, still encounters difficulty with time management. She's the author of the urban fantasy trilogy The Books of the Demimonde as well as WORDS THAT BIND. She also writes for YA and NA audiences under the pen name AJ Krafton. THE HEARTBEAT THIEF, her Victorian dark fantasy inspired by Poe’s “The Masque of the Red Death”, is now available.
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