Michelle Richmond
The first thing you need to know about writing a novel is that there are no easy answers. The second thing you need to know is that, if you’re anything like most of us, it’s going to be quite difficult. There’s no magic formula for novel-writing. Every novel demands its own structure, its own pace, its own way of looking at the world.
Still with me? Good. Because, as it turns out, novel writing isn’t just a head-banging exercise in utter frustration and despair (although, trust me, sometimes it is just that). It’s also a deep swim into your own head space, a really fun adventure, and one of the most thrillingly creative things a person can do. It’s your world; you get to make it, populate it, cultivate it, and bring all of the pieces together.
If you’re ready to take on the challenge of writing a novel, here are 10 steps to get your started.
1. Forget the outline.
Outlines are good, unless they are bad. The nice thing about an outline is that it gives you a direction. The bad thing about an outline is that it limits your novel’s possibilities. For the first fifty pages, at least, work without an outline. See where the story is beginning to take you. Need help with this? Try The Paperclip Method (http://paperclipmethod.com).
2. Consider the setting.
Setting encompasses not only place, but also time. Where does your novel happen, and when? Ian McEwan’s chilling novella, The Comfort of Strangers, derives much of its tension from the setting of Venice—the convoluted streets and hidden alleys are essential to the feeling of disorientation that leads to the protagonist’s undoing. When I began writing The Year of Fog, I knew that this book could happen only one place: San Francisco. And I knew the story of a child disappearing into the fog must begin on Ocean Beach, where the summer fog is so dense, you can see only a few feet in front of you.
When you consider the setting of your novel, be as specific as possible. If it begins in a city, what part of the city? What street? What building? Why does the story happen here?
3. Consider the point of view.
Who is telling the story, from what distance? Do you have a first-person narrator who is at the center of the action, an omniscient narrator who is able to go into the thoughts of any character at any time, a limited third person narration that sticks closely to one character? Mersault engages the reader’s empathy in The Stranger, despite his seeming coldness, because the first-person narration brings the reader straight into Mersault’s mind. We understand his motivations from his own point of view, and, as a result, actions that might otherwise seem reprehensible begin to make sense to us.
4. Consider the protagonist.
There has to be someone at the center of the action. Generally, this will be someone your reader ends up rooting for, no matter how flawed the character may be. (And he or she must be flawed in order to be realistic.) Emma Bovary is deeply flawed, but in the end, we care what happens to her as she hurtles toward self-destruction. Flaubert isn’t easy on Emma, but he portrays her in all of her complexity—her ambition, her passion, her rapacious desire for status and luxury. Every great novel is character-driven; your protagonist must be a character worth caring about. For help creating complex characters, get The Complete Character Workbook at http://paperclipmethod.com.
5. Consider the conflict.
No matter what kind of novel you’re writing, no matter the genre, there is no novel without trouble. Every story begins with conflict. What’s yours? In Gone Girl, a woman goes missing in the first chapter, and her husband appears to be implicated in her disappearance. In Here Is Where We Meet, a middle-aged man meets his dead mother along an aqueduct in Lisbon, and must come to terms not only with his own country’s past, but also with the mysterious nature of the uncertain boundaries between life and death.
6. Consider the stakes.
What is at risk in the story? What does your protagonist stand to lose or gain? What does he or she want, and why is it important? The stakes must be clear if you want the reader to care.
7. Embrace fragments.
Don’t be afraid to write a paragraph here, a page there. Not everything has to be a full-fledged chapter in the early stages of novel-writing. If you have a scene in your head that you know you want to write, go for it. But if you sit down at your computer and feel flustered and uncertain, allow yourself the freedom to think in small bits. Tell yourself, “Today I’m going to write 1200 words about where my character lives,” or “Today I’m going to write 500 words about what’s troubling the narrator,” or “Today I’m going to write the last paragraph of the novel.” That last one is kind of weird, right? But the point is, you don’t have to write in a linear fashion. You can piece your novel together later. For now, get some stuff on the page. See Story Starters: A Workbook for Writers.
8. Write what you don’t know.
The old adage is, “Write what you know.” But you also need to be willing to write what you don’t know. In the spirit of discovery, allow one character to work in a field about which you know very little, or allow some element of the plot, or a subplot, to delve into something you find unusual. Then research it. Sure, you could make your main character’s sister a struggling writer, something you presumably know a thing or two about, but that’s a little boring, isn’t it? Why not make her a welder instead? Then go online and research welding. Take a welder out for beer. Write five paragraphs that can be sprinkled throughout your novel that embrace the lingo and physicality of welding. Voila–you’ve created something interesting and textural, something that may just take you in an unusual metaphorical direction you never would have imagined if you were sticking to what you knew.
When I was writing No One You Know, I had a character who was a math prodigy. Math was always my worst subject in school, and even in adult life, my limitations in mathematics have been something of an albatross. But the book required me to stretch myself, and I ended up writing in depth about The Goldbach Conjecture, a mathematical mystery that has remained unsolved for hundreds of years. I learned a great deal not only about that one math problem, but about the world of mathematics and the personalities that populate it. I also came across one of the most fascinating books I’ve ever read, A Mathemetician’s Apology, by G. H. Hardy. If I’d chosen to skim the math part, I would have had an easier time of it, but a much less interesting journey.
9. Set a deadline, but be realistic and kind.
Not for the completion of the novel, but for the first fifty pages. Set a second deadline, far enough in the future, for the completion of the second fifty pages. It’s great to tell yourself you’re going to write a novel in a month, but it can be very discouraging once you get to the end of the month and realize you’ve produced only 35 pages. 35 pages is great, unless you’ve set yourself up for failure by believing you would produce 300 in that amount of time. 35 good pages are better than 300 bad pages any day. Be kind to yourself and set yourself up for success by setting realistic deadlines. (See Next Draft: Tools for Revision).
10: Keep it to yourself.
One of the biggest mistakes beginning writers make is showing their early efforts to anyone who will look. I know, it’s tempting. You’re writing a novel. You want feedback! You want support! You want someone to tell you it’s awesome. But hold your horses. For one thing, if you let people see your novel too early, they’re going to have all sorts of ideas about where it should go and what it should be about, what you should include and what you should leave out. If you show it to two people, you’re going to get a double dose of all those well-intentioned ideas. Show it to three people, and triple the effect. You see what I mean. Worst case scenario is that no one likes it and you’re so discouraged you end up ditching it before you’ve had a chance to get very far.For a little while, at least, you need to protect your novel. Don’t show it to anyone, and don’t ask for advice. Give yourself some time to get your own vision onto the page before other visions interject. Many novels are written by collaboration, but, unlike screenplays, most are not written by committee. It’s your story; hide it in a drawer until it’s ready to see the light.
Michelle Richmond, New York Times bestselling author of The Year of Fog, Golden State, No One You Know, and Dream of the Blue Room