Write until you can't (until you can't).

The "Problem" Method: Writing Big Messes

At the start of this semester, about 65 pages into the first draft of my novel, I told a professor of mine that my approach was something like this: I write until I can't.

One of the most common reasons when I couldn't write any more was that I had lost my focus. In the process of first-draft-writing, I had explored so many thoughts out of fear of missing something that I had lost that unifying, unsayable thread that resonates through my story. So I would stop writing and edit enough to get back on track. It's kind of like pruning a hedge. You have to step back every now and then to get some distance and remember what you're going for.

When I described it to my professor was when I first realized it was probably not an ideal way to work, and I should try to work toward a more methodical method.

The "Solution:" Writing Less, More Often

As things go in and out of my mind, I forgot about that problem until I sat down to write this post. I scratched my head for a minute and wondered why I hadn't thought about it. But it turns out, somewhere along the way, I had naturally internalized a method of writing less per sitting that solved the problem. Writing 25 pages in a sitting and then being at a loss of how to keep going (usually stuck until I cut 12 pages out) gave way to writing one chapter at a time before doing enough housekeeping-editorial work to keep it focused enough to write the next one. My chapters average about 7.27 pages and something like 1,700 words, which isn't usually enough pages to get too hopelessly far from Kansas.

Essentially, I am just stepping back and looking at the hedge from a distance at more regular intervals, so keeping it's shape isn't such a dramatic affair.

Conclusion: Flexibility

Now that I think about it, there may have been some advantage to turning out so many pages at once. But the process seems daunting to me. For one, I am busy with Real Life stuff, and it was over the summer, when I was unemployed, that I was turning out so many pages at a time. I also think that while I turn out fewer pages at a time, the increasing awareness of all of the patterns in the work make each page require a lot more synaptic activity than early pages.

Ultimately, each approach has its advantages and disadvantages, and any approach that works is valuable. The process is never static, just like clouds -- even if you can't tell they're moving, they are. When one approach stops working, it's time to change it up -- just write until you can't.