Tag Archives: Books

How Not to Write a Book

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The Crappy Dragon Book is really coming along.

Mel and I are a pretty good team. . Oh, sure, we’re still in that butterflies and rainbows “dating” part of our work relationship.  I get that.  Still, we work well together. Our strengths/weaknesses really compliment each other.

I think in a perfect world she and I could regularly churn out 3-4 books a year.  I’m not just saying that – I know exactly how much work goes into a book.  The thing is, there’s a lot of forward momentum when you have someone to regularly brainstorm with, and it’s easier to avoid dead ends with two sets of eyes.  Also, we both type fast.  I’m not sure where she is, but I know that when I know what I want to write, I can churn out a clean 2-3,000 words in under two hours. Most of my blog posts take me about 30-45 minutes, from beginning to end.

Three to four books a year is actually a low estimate of what we could do, in a perfect world. I’m taking into account that we would have to plot out and write new books every single year, year after year, and lowering the number accordingly.

I mean, drive is not a problem.  I can’t stop writing.  Oh, sure, sometimes the words dry up to a trickle, but whenever I go too long without writing, I end up narrating things in my head.  The words are there, and they demand an outlet.

Drive is obviously not a problem with Mel, either.  I mean, she doesn’t just run.  She runs ultras.  And she doesn’t just run ultras…. oh no.  No, that’s not hard enough.

I kid you not, the woman just posted something about how she wishes she could run a 200 mile race.

A.

Two.

Hundred.

Mile.

Race.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH HER?!  I don’t even like driving that far without plenty of snacks, and a book on tape, and a really good reason.

So, yeah.  We could do it, in a perfect world.  Easy peasy.

There’s just one problem with that:

We don’t live in a perfect world.

Mel and I both have full time jobs.  We both have kids.  We both have animals we need to care for, and husbands who want love and attention, and house stuff that goes awry.

The truth is, whenever I had this mental image of me for-real working on a book, it always looked so peaceful, so creatively serene.  The light would filter in through the windows, afternoon sun filtered into a golden haze.  The breeze would stir the curtains slightly, casting shadows against the art on the wall.  There’d be a meaningful paperweight sitting at the corner of my desk, from which I would draw inspiration when times got tough.  I’d be sitting at some kind of giant mahogany desk, leaning back in my chair with my brow furrowed.  My head would be tipped back and I’d gaze at the ceiling as I fought to find the right word, the right descriptor, the right plot twist……. and then, suddenly, everything would click into place. I would nod my head decisively, bend forward over the keyboard, and my fingers would begin to fly as the world that lived in my mind spilled forward into living words.

Can’t you just see it? Isn’t it beautiful?

Yeah.

That is NOT what real life writing looks like at all… at least not for me.

Here is a list of real-life issues that have occurred while Mel and I were working on the book:

  • Sorry, BRB, I need to go clean up kid vomit.
  • Sorry, BRB, my car is crashed.
  • Sorry, BRB, gotta cook dinner for the kids.
  • Sorry, BRB, I need to go hose puke off the car seat.
  • Sorry, BRB, friend died
  • Sorry, BRB, there is diarrhea all over the couch.
  • Sorry, BRB, I need to go run a 100 mile race.
  • Sorry, BRB, goats are puking.
  • Sorry, BRB, dying family member.
  • Sorry, BRB, all four kids are fighting.
  • Sorry, BRB, haven’t slept in two days.
  • Sorry, BRB, my mom broke her leg.
  • Sorry, BRB, computer broke.
  • Sorry, BRB, gotta operate on a cat.

actual photo from one of our Facebook plotting sessions

 

Author life: It’s such a glamorous life.

Quit shoving books down your pants, Becky

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Dear 19-year-old Becky,

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Hey, that’s a great tan on your legs. It totally matches your shoulders. You don’t look at all like someone grabbed two different Lego people and forced their mismatched halves together.

Okay, quit shooting me dirty looks. Whatever, you’re me. I get to pick on you all I want. That said, there is a point to this, you know. I didn’t just come here to make fun of you. I wanted to let you know that I see you. Yes, you. You are on your first cruise, and you’re in the prime of your youth. I’m looking back through the photos today, and I assure you: YOU ARE NOT FAT.

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As far as I can tell, you are composed of about 90% legs and 10% flat belly, but eh. I’m not gonna argue with you, because we both know you’ll never hear me, so I might as well get down to business.

Dude. You are on a cruise, you’re single, you’re totally hot, you’re laying in a gorgeous little black bathing suit on the sands of a Mexican beach…….

And you’ve got your nose stuffed in a book.

Here’s the thing: I know what book you’re reading. That’s Outlander, isn’t it? No, don’t even bother trying to hide it under the towel – we both know you stole it out of the ship’s library. Yes, yes, I know you didn’t “steal” it – I know you’re going to “give it right back”, so it’s not “technically stealing”. Although, now that we’re on the subject….

DUDE. You have got to quit shoving books down your pants to steal them, even if you’ve rationalized the theft in your mind. I mean, really. Think about it for a second. Do you realize how socially inept you’re being? Let’s not even talk about the fact that yes, it is stealing. No, this point is non-negotiable. If you’re not supposed to take it and you do, then it’s stealing. It doesn’t matter if you do give it right back to the library, which is the only place you steal books from. It’s still stealing. It’s going to take you three or four more years before you realize what a jerk thing that is to do to your favorite place in the entire world and you leave your life of crime behind.

It’s just… morality issue aside, how do you even consider all the possibilities of how to steal something, and then decide that cramming it down your pants is the way to go? Are you for real?

Look, I’m older than you and I’ve learned a few things over the past few years so let me tell you something: just tuck the book under your arm and walk off like the badass mofo you are. Nobody cares. Everyone’s as caught up in their own lives as you are with yours, and they really. Don’t. Care.

So quit jamming books down your pants and waddling off with them like a gimpy penguin. It’s not cool, man. Books don’t deserve that. The person who reads that book next doesn’t deserve it either.

Alright, back to my main point. Where was I?

Ah, yes.

So you’re 19, single, hot, and on a Mexican beach. You’re taking a break from a cruise filled with other single, hot young guys…. and you have your nose stuffed in a book? I know you’re feeling guilty about that – like you’re wasting this cruise by spending the whole time reading, and let me tell you something….

DUDE, YOU’RE TOTALLY NOT.

Holy crap, isn’t that, like, the most amazing book ever?

Right?!

It’s still your most-favoritest-book-ever, even though it’s almost 15 years later! I know you’re worried that you’re not gonna finish it in time and that you’ll actually have to consider for-real, legitimately stealing the book because you don’t have a job and your library card has a bunch of fines on it again, but dont’ worry. You actually creep back to the library and pull an all nighter and finish it somewhere around 6 or 7 the next evening. Also, you’re doing the right thing in not speed-reading through it. Keep savoring those words. There’s only one “first time”, you know?

Here’s the super cool part. Brace yourself, because this is really good. In about 15 years… YOU’RE GOING TO MEET THE AUTHOR, AND TAKE A PICTURE WITH HER BUTT, AND IT WILL BE AMAZING.

RIGHT?! You live in Oregon, you own a 16.2 Andalusian cross, you’re becoming a for-real writer, and YOU ACTUALLY MEET DIANA GABALDON’S BUTT.

I know. Life turns out pretty awesome for us, doesn’t it?

Okay, I can see that you’re actually really busy making awesome decisions so I’ll let you get back to reading, just…. Look, 19-year-old-Becky, even if you won’t believe me that you’re not fat, please believe me that you’re totally making the right decision. You’re not “wasting” your cruise time at all. That is such an awesome book.

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