Anne here, and today I'm responding to the questions asked by wenchly reader Constance, who said...
I’m a process person, so I am always interested in the blog posts in which a Wench refers to what she’s doing to prepare for or finish a book. I’d like to hear more about how ideas are first turned into plans (outlines? Story boards? Cocktail napkins?) for future work. And, perhaps particularly, when do you know a story will become a series?
Constance, for me, it varies. I wish I had a foolproof process by which I smoothly and reliably produced a book, but I don't. Each time, I struggle and it's a different struggle every time. And messy. But I can walk you though what I do, more or less. But be warned — it's not quite as pretty as in that pic above. Here be dragons. Or eels.
I'll start with this question as it's the easiest. When do you know a story will become a series?
My first 4 published books were stand alone, unconnected stories, and so when I offered my fifth book to Berkley I'd written it as a stand-alone, without any thought of a series. My heroine was the plain older sister of 4 beautiful girls, and when they bought the book, the first thing the editor asked me was "Which sister is next?" I was shocked. Honestly, it had never occurred to me that they might want a series. So then I had to come up with three more books (Yes, I can count — I married two of them off in the first book.)
So now the series is part of the proposal. When I'm starting a new series, I write a series proposal, with a vague description of where I think each book might go.
How are ideas first turned into plans?
1) Getting ideas: Ideas come to me all the time, often at inconvenient moments, like when I'm about to fall asleep, or at dawn, when I'm in a half-waking dream state. I've learned to scribble them down in a notebook I keep by the bed.
A lot of writers will tell you that this is a waste of time, that if an idea is worth pursuing it will stay in your head and nag you until you write it. And this is, to some extent true. Some of my books lurked in my brain for years until I wrote them, and there are more still gently nagging to be written.
But many's the time I've allowed myself to drift off to sleep, certain I'll remember the idea in the morning —because it was such a brilliant idea. And in the morning, all I can remember is that it was the Best Idea Ever — and I've completely forgotten it. So I save myself the frustration and half-asleep or not, I write it down. In notebooks, on the back of envelopes and yes— sometimes on a cocktail napkin.
As more thoughts come about a particular story idea, I note them down. Sometimes it's just a matter of jotting down a few points or possibilities, and with any luck, when I come to write a story I'll have a bunch of scenes written, dialogue and all — though it's rough draft at this stage. Scenes from any part of the book -- opening, black moment, whatever. They may or may not get used.
2) Turning ideas into plans: Method 1— writing the proposal
When I was first published, I just used to think of a story and write it and then they'd contract the book. These days my publisher contracts me before I write, so I have to send in a proposal before writing. I find it difficult because I usually discover the story as I write it, but writing the proposal helps me get a clearer idea of the shape of the story.
Sometime I try the "invisible ink" style of storytelling, as outlined by Brian McDonald in his book Invisible Ink. It's also the system used by Pixar. The idea is that you finish the sentences and the resulting product conforms (more or less) to the three act story structure.
Once upon a time. . .
And every day. . .
Until one day . .
And because of this . . .
And because of this . . .
Until finally . . .
And ever since that day . . .
Here's how I used this to help me write the proposal for The Spring Bride. Please note — anyone who's read that story will see that there's some difference between the proposal and the final story. That's what happens.
Invisible Ink & the Spring Bride
1) Once upon a time there was a beautiful girl who was afraid to fall in love.
2) And every day she told herself that she was being sensible and practical and that, like other girls of her time, she could view marriage as a business.
3) Until one day she met a dark and dangerous gypsy in a dirty London alley and they rescued a dog together. But he (the gypsy) is all kinds of unsuitable. (So is the dog, but that doesn't matter.)
4) And because of this, when he (the gypsy, not the dog) pursued her she rejected him and avoided him and tried (not very successfully) to have nothing to do with him. And even though she was strongly attracted to him, she told herself all the reasons why she should not, could not, would not fall in love with him.
5) And because of this he pursues her with more determination and enters society when he should be lying low (waiting until he can prove he's innocent of murdering his stepmother). He is recognized and is arrested for murder.
6) Until finally she decides to help him and travels to Wales to find the woman he's accused of murdering. She finds her, convinces her to come to London, and he is declared innocent.
7) And ever since that day the girl was not afraid any more - not of falling in love, not of anything. She'd rescued him, and in the process rescued herself. And the gypsy turned into a prince -- well, an earl — not a pumpkin! And they lived happily ever after.
Of course this was not the full proposal — but it gave me the basis, and I was able to flesh it out with the things my editor needs to know — like why Jane was afraid to fall in love.
My editor rarely comments on the proposal — except to say she likes it. But she knows it's a "best guess" and the final story might be a little different. It's very much up to me, though I suppose if she thought there might be a problem, she'd probably mention it.
3) Turning ideas into plans: Method 2 — The collage method.
For a number of my books I made a story collage. It's a process where you collect images and group them together, just feeding the muse with story possibilities. It's not planning as much as pondering — it's all fairly instrinctive, and there's no structure involved. But it's fun, and just looking at it helps me plunge into that story world.
Here's my collage for The Stolen Princess.
4) Turning ideas into plans: Method 3 — the sticky note method.
In this more messy system, I write down scenes and scene possibilities on little sticky notes and arrange them on a board. I might start off with a dozen or so notes (each one a scene) and lots of gaps in between. And as the story spins, and I write more, the ideas keep coming, and I fill out more sticky notes.
By the time my deadline is looming, I know where the story is heading and I'll sometimes rip off each sticky note as I write it, and know exactly what I still have to write.
5) Turning ideas into plans: Method 4 — Just write it. Write, rewrite, draft, redraft, panic, fret, write, read, have my computer read bits back to me, write some more, read, write, fret, and keep going until it's finished.
Usually by the end of the book I have no idea if it's any good or not, and so I wait with bated breth for my editor to get back to me.
So there it is, my process, more or less, messy, imperfect and inconsistent. And probably much more about it than you wanted to know.
Constance, thank you for your questions. For sending them in to the wenches, you've won one of my books — your choice. Could you please contact me privately to arrange it.
And wenchly readers, what about you: did any of this surprise you? Feel free to ask further questions in the comments — I'll do my best to answer them.
Or if you'd prefer to comment on series — do you prefer books to be in series? How long is too long for a series? What are some of your favorite series?