How to write a book part two: Before you start

This is a continuation of my series on navigating the writing process. To see my first post in the series, click here.

As I said in the first entry in this series, there is no wrong way to begin writing. Start with what works best for you. However, before anything can be written, more planning and pre-manuscript work may need to be done first. Maybe you want to get a more fleshed-out idea of your story as a whole or you want to create a profile for your protagonist or other characters so they are more rich and developed.

 I, personally, try to chart out my writing beat by beat. This is essentially an expansion of my summary where I try to list out everything that needs to happen in terms of plot and character development. This doesn’t need to be concrete, and you can figure out the details later. For instance, I may know that if I want my character to have a final showdown against their nemesis at the climax of the story, they need to have an established relationship. They need to have previous confrontations so that they have the proper animosity in that final showdown. If you want there to be personal stakes like the antagonist having kidnapped the hero’s love interest, you know that they need to have absconded with them at some point.

This wider summary is a chance to start figuring out what needs to be in the book—and where it needs to go. You can start vague with an idea like “the protagonist has a showdown with the antagonist during the climax in Act Three, so they need to meet each other in Acts One or Two.” Then get more specific: “The climax occurs because the antagonist kidnapped the protagonist’s love interest, therefore I want the antagonist to kidnap the love interest at the end of Act Two.” In turn, this means their first meeting needs to happen earlier in the story than the end of Act Two. Perhaps the protagonist fails to stop the antagonist from kidnapping the love interest at the end of Act Two because the protagonist is not brave enough. This means that the protagonist has to learn bravery before they meet again at the climax of the story in order to rescue them, so something has to happen in Act Three where they gain courage.

Writing in this way can be a bit like a Sudoku puzzle. At first, you only know where a small amount of information is located. Yet, by working out through logic where those few pieces fit, you can see where corresponding pieces must fit within the narrative (or where they will not fit). Once you see where enough pieces fit, you will start to get a clearer picture of what the final story will look like. Eventually, you can even break this down further into a chapter-by-chapter summary and maybe even further into a scene-by-scene summary.

Some writers skip this step. They prefer to write in a more organic, spontaneous manner. In the writing community, this is often referred to as the “pants-er method.” It’s named this way because these writers “fly by the seat of their pants.” Those who like to plan things out and strictly structure their stories ahead of time are often referred to as “planners” because they plan things out and want to know what they are writing toward ahead of time.

Pants-ers like to allow the story to guide them rather than them guiding the story. There is merit to this. It can help make the story more unpredictable, can ensure motivations for characters feel natural, and helps authors avoid falling into the trap of inserting things into the story simply because it furthers the plot even though it otherwise doesn’t make sense.

For instance, if a character is kidnapped and escapes, why don’t they ask someone on the street to call the police for help instead of trying to stop the kidnappers themselves? You, the writer, know that you want the victim to fight back against the kidnappers, but logically it doesn’t make sense unless you take measures to circumvent such a plot hole (like they’re in the middle of nowhere or it was established earlier that cell service was down). The pants-er method makes it easier to avoid this because the characters are acting in the moment. The downside of the pants-er method is that this can easily lead to the writer being stuck. If the victim just calls the police, then they never confront their kidnapper, never grow as a character, and you end up with a flat, boring ending.

As is probably evident in my Sudoku method, I definitely fall more in the planner camp than the pants-er camp. However, in my experience, there has to be a little planning in every pants-er and a little improvisation in every planner. A story with no structure is very difficult to write and can often lead to dead ends, writer’s block, or a lack of satisfaction at where the story goes. Likewise, even the most dedicated planner needs some improvisation in their story. If a character turns out more annoying than comical, you need to adjust how that character is presented. If you write two characters and they have unforeseen romantic chemistry that wasn’t included in the original outline, then perhaps that needs to be added in.

Another key facet for many writers in the pre-writing phase is doing research. For a genre like historical fiction, I highly recommend it. Learn about what you are writing about. For instance, if you have a story set in World War II, learn about the war and culture in the 1940s. If you start writing without doing this research, it usually becomes glaringly obvious. Historical inaccuracies are the most visible (don’t describe a character being an Air Force pilot if the Air Force wasn’t established yet) but not having a grasp of the language used at the time, pasting modern perspectives on characters from other time periods, or having them not act or think like people did at the time can stand out unless such characterization is backed up by a solid backstory and proper character development.

Nor is this limited to historical fiction. If you have a character in a modern contemporary setting, but who is a doctor, while research may not be necessary to describe their home life, it can be pretty clear to readers if they do not sound like a doctor while they are on the job or if they are using inaccurate medical terms or act inappropriately in regard to medical practices.

Character building is also a common technique that many writers use before the writing process begins in earnest. This means learning who they are as the writer so you can better describe them and show who they are throughout the narrative. If they are very tough and angry character, you want to know why they act tough and are so angry all the time. Perhaps they lived on the street growing up, so they had to develop a hard outer shell to protect themselves. Maybe they were taught by a parent or mentor figure that acting that way is the only way to get respect from others.

Ask yourself questions that may not necessarily appear on the page, secrets known only to the author or secret facts about the character that are merely hinted at in the text. Maybe that tough and angry character is shown having an otherwise uncharacteristic love of dogs because their pet dog was the only creature who showed them unconditional love when they were a child. Their childhood may not come up in the story but it’s the sort of detail that makes a character feel like a real person rather than a trope, cliché, or bland replaceable drone.

You can also ask yourself details which may or may not be relevant to the story. Do they have scars or injuries? What makes them happy? What makes them sad? What do they do on their days off? Even a cold-blooded hitman sits down, eats dinner, and watches TV. What do they eat, what do they watch—and why? Are they as cautious and anxious as they are when they’re on the job or is this a moment of vulnerability and relaxation for them?

This also is a good way to form a good idea of their appearance. One of the best pieces of character design advice I ever heard is that an iconic character should be identifiable by their silhouette. If I showed you a silhouette of a muscular man with a cape and pointy ears, you could tell it was Batman. If I showed you a silhouette of a slim lady in a coat, brimmed hat, and holding an umbrella, you could tell it was Mary Poppins. While not every character, especially in the case of minor characters, has to be so distinct, the reader should always be able to have a clear view of who they are and what they look like. Describe their eyes; are they kind, intimidating, always squinting, bugging out? Are they in designer clothes, jeans and a hoodie, a 70’s tracksuit? Is their hair unruly in long curls, high and tight, messy like a pile of straw? Is their build thin, fat, or muscular?

There are numerous checklists and forms that authors and publishers have created to give other writers a blueprint for mapping out who a character is. Here are some links to some examples.

One Stop for Writers has a good one I’ve used in the past. It requires a subscription but comes with a free trial here.
Here is another from Crystal MM Burton on Pinterest.
Here is a pretty basic one from DearWriters on Tumblr.

There are plenty of ways to prepare yourself so you have more tools in your arsenal before you start writing. Don’t feel you need to rush into your story—but don’t use it as an excuse to procrastinate either. The important thing is to keep that momentum going and always be making progress, even if that progress doesn’t necessarily mean writing text. We’ll talk more about that in a future post.

How to write a book: Beginning

Having completed three manuscripts and traversed the publishing process, I cannot call myself an expert on the industry by any means—however, I have learned a thing or two about how to write a book.

The first thing that I believe people should know if they want to become an author is that writing is a skill, not a talent. Writing is not something you are either born with or not, it is something that is learned. While it may come more naturally to some than others, no one starts out as an expert, and anyone can become an expert with hard work, education, and practice. Anyone can write a book.

The first hurdle many people experience is not knowing where to start. The feeling of opening up a fresh Word document or sitting down in front of a blank page is an intimidating one—but keep in mind that every masterpiece of literature ever created began at the very point where you are at now.

So, how do you start writing? The short answer is: however you want. If you have a particular scene in your head that you have a clear picture of, start there. If you have a good idea for a compelling lead character, try writing their biography. J.R.R. Tolkien started his famed fantasy universe by creating languages that would go on to become different forms of Elvish and Dwarvish. There is no wrong way to start writing.

However, if you have no idea where to begin or how to start coalescing your various ideas and concepts into a narrative, I would suggest the first step being constructing your elevator pitch. What is an elevator pitch? If you found yourself in an elevator with someone you wanted to pitch your story to, you would only have a few seconds to do so. You wouldn’t have the time to go into details, describe your themes, discuss your influences, and so forth. It is the bare bones of your story. I suggest starting here because the first person you need to provide with a clear understanding of your story is yourself. Once you establish to yourself what the book is in its most fundamental form, you can begin elaborating upon it and expanding those ideas outward.

What is in an elevator pitch? You may find many different answers to this question, but I think there are four primary elements it should include: who your protagonist or protagonists are, what their status quo is, the inciting incident that interrupts the status quo, and the challenge this creates that the protagonist or protagonists must overcome.

Let’s break this down.

• Who is your protagonist: Your protagonist is whoever’s point of view the story is told from. This can also be multiple people if you want your story told from different points of view. Ask yourself who this person is and why this particular story should be told from their perspective.

• What is their status quo: What is the starting point for this character? What is their life before the story begins? Is their status quo something they are trying to preserve or something they want to escape from?

• What is the inciting incident: If the status quo is your protagonist’s life before the story starts, the inciting incident is what changes or threatens to change that status quo. This is what sets the story in motion. It is an interruption of the familiar that forces the protagonist or protagonists to take action.

• What is the challenge the protagonist must overcome: Every story is about trying to overcome an obstacle or conclude a conflict. Your story can be about attempting to overthrow an evil galactic empire or it can be about a husband and wife trying to move on after the death of their child. Either way, you have a character or characters trying to get something done. This fourth step is essentially telling the listener what the bulk of the story will be about.

This may sound like a lot to fit into a sentence or two that could be described in the length of an elevator trip, but the trick is condensing it down into its most fundamental elements. Let’s return to Tolkien for a moment. The Lord of the Rings is a monumental three book epic with dozens of named characters, multiple character arcs, numerous sub-plots, and rich themes. Yet, its elevator pitch might sound something like this:

In the magical world of Middle Earth, Frodo Baggins led a quiet life among the peaceful Hobbit folk with his eccentric uncle in the idyllic Shire. However, he learns from the mysterious wizard, Gandalf, that the magic ring inherited from his uncle was created by the Dark Lord Sauron and he must travel to the heart of Sauron’s realm in order to destroy it and save all of Middle Earth.

Here, we see the structure of the story in the simplest terms. We learn who the protagonist is (Frodo Baggins). We see his status quo (Frodo exists in a fantasy setting and lives with his eccentric uncle in the idyllic Shire). There is the inciting incident (inheriting the ring and learning the truth of it from the wizard, Gandalf). Finally, there is the challenge (the ring must be destroyed within Sauron’s realm in order to save the world).

Obviously, this leaves a great deal out—but that is the point. While an elevator pitch can be very useful to describing the story to someone else, getting it in your head from the start of the story can be extremely helpful to a writer if you are having difficulty imagining what your story will look like by forming a solid foundation upon which to build. You, the author, now have decided where and when your story is, who it will focus on, what they are trying to accomplish and why. Don’t worry about getting all the details sorted out from the beginning. Build the foundation and then build on top of it, adding details, sub-plots, and other facets.

 If there is an addendum to these four questions, try asking these four additional questions to get a more complete view of your story. The four questions all essentially mirror the initial questions in your elevator pitch.

• How does your protagonist or protagonists try to fulfil the challenge from your elevator pitch: Once the challenge has been established, how do your characters try to meet it? This may be the toughest part to summarize as this is what the bulk of your story consists of—the trials and tribulations of the characters as they try achieving the story’s primary goal.

• Do they accomplish their challenge: Are your characters’ efforts successful? Perhaps they are and there is victory, celebration, and a happy ending. However, some stories are tragedies, and they are not successful. The story does not have to be about how the goal is accomplished, but instead about why it cannot be accomplished or learning something is more important than the initial goal.

• Is the status quo restored: Do the characters get to return the world as they knew it, or was that world forever changed as a result of the story? This ties in with the fourth point, which is …

• How does the main character change: A strong rule for creating any protagonist is that they cannot be entirely the same at the end of the story as they were at the beginning. A story is a journey and goes from point A to point B (albeit with numerous stops and diversions in between) and your protagonist lies at the heart of your story. While there are exceptions to this rule (perhaps the character has obstinance as a flaw and refuses to change despite needing to), this can be dangerous as this generally means they are a very flat, boring, unengaging character that most readers will not connect with or want to follow. This change can come in a number of ways; perhaps they become braver, maybe they fall in love, maybe their outlook on the world is forever altered, maybe they even die. This is the “character arc,” the path a character takes from where they enter the story to where they leave it. It establishes how you want your character to progress throughout the story. Establishing this early on can give you an idea where the character has to go and what they have to do throughout the story. For instance, if they gain courage by the end of the story, you know they must face trials and tribulations in which their courage is tested.

To return to the Lord of the Rings, adding these second four questions to the elevator pitch might look something like this:

Frodo and Gandalf form a fellowship of mighty heroes to escort him and the ring to Sauron’s realm of Mordor so he may destroy it. Although some of his companions die throughout the long journey and they are separated, Frodo makes it to Mordor while some of his companions unite the peoples of Middle Earth and fight against Sauron’s armies.

The ring is destroyed, Sauron is defeated upon its destruction, and Frodo returns to the Shire. Middle Earth begins to rebuild despite a great and terrible war. However, the trauma of his adventures leaves Frodo scarred and diminished. Bidding goodbye to his beloved friends, Frodo sails with Gandalf into the storied west so that he might finally know peace yet again.

By combing these eight questions together, you also have what is called a “summary.” This is a brief run-down of the whole story that professionals such as editors and agents may want to see in the latter stages of the publishing process. This makes it a good thing to keep around throughout the writing process, both as a guiding star and as a useful tool so you can explain your story to others.

 … But the convenient thing is that you don’t have to keep it the same either. Some writers, upon getting halfway through with a project, may find they want to fundamentally change what it is, by altering where they want the story to go, what they want to say through their writing, or how they want the readers to perceive the story. Do not feel bound by an elevator pitch or summary. Rather, use them as the spine of what you want to write—or as I said earlier, a foundation. You can change an elevator pitch or summary but always ensure you have a new one if you do. That way, you always have a solid, central idea of what you want the story to be.