Wasteland Gods was my first novel, and so when I first began writing it, I had already taken a huge leap out of my comfort zone, which at the time was short stories. Generally speaking, there is no right or wrong way of doing anything so long as you succeed at doing it. The method I sort of fell into when writing Wasteland Gods seemed to work well enough, and I suppose that’s really all that matters. I’m a little over two-thirds of the way through my next novel and have used largely the same method.
Under the Bed, July 2014, www.stayingscared.com
Like most stories, Wasteland Gods started with the seed of an idea. In this case, that seed led to a short story, first published in the magazine Under the Bed a few years back, which then led to a novel. While I was happy with the result of the short story, the idea stuck around even after I was finished with it, and the next thing I knew, several connections revealed themselves. This would be perhaps the basis for my method: connections. Sometimes I write them down, but most of the time I leave them where they are—in my head—and if they disappear into the void, they weren’t memorable enough anyway. The ones that don’t disappear end up becoming key characters or scenes or plot twists.
And so at that point, I may start writing. I try to have a vague idea of where a story is going, but it’ll often change direction as I go along. This is not to say that I totally wing it, though. Wasteland Gods is a complex story with multiple plot lines and a cast of characters. I needed to keep track of all of that somehow.
For me, writing a novel is like riding one of those exercise bikes at the gym. Writing stuff down is the pedalling, and the muse is the computer screen where you’re supposed to punch in all your vital statistics so that you can plan your workout. The computer doesn’t show you a damn thing until you start pedalling, and if you stop for long enough, the screen goes blank again.
Someone of note, though I have no idea who, once said that the muse makes a fine mistress, but a terrible wife. My muse encourages me to fly, to be reckless and abandon all sense of order and structure, to let loose and have fun. It’s a hot and steamy love affair with the project, which is exactly what my first draft is all about.
Frankenstein, wikimedia commons
In a way, I envy those writers who can plot an entire novel, scene-for-scene, before they’ve written even one word of prose. Their wastage must be near non-existent. For me, I alternate between writing, then having ideas, then writing some more, then having new ideas, and I end up taking multiple wrong turns, backtracking through thousands of words that’ll never make it to the finished product, and pulling my hair out at the roots. And when I do finally write “The End” on the first draft, I have to go back over it and tear it apart piece by piece so that I can put it back together again like Frankenstein’s monster.
I know, this sounds like a wretched, exhausting process, but I assure you, it’s my favourite thing in the world to do.
Once I’ve finished pounding, stretching, squeezing, and manipulating the book into a workable product, it’s time for the editor to beat the shit out of me and my book with a pointy stick. This is a beating my book and I sorely need.
When I first submitted Wasteland Gods to the publisher, I had thought it was the best it could be. I was wrong. It was obviously good enough for the publisher to say yes, send me a contract, and pay me an advance.
The editor, who is the single most valuable component of the entire process, doesn’t see the book with the unconditional love of a parent. To them, it’s just another grotty, smelly, obnoxious kid, who is in dire need of discipline, guidance, and a firm hand.
Working with the editor made the whole project feel like a reality. Before that, it was merely something I’d created and was putting out there for people to read and hopefully enjoy, but the editor made me look at it as a marketable product and forced me to take it seriously. I ended up cutting out entire storylines, characters, and overall, about twenty-thousand words of prose!
If the muse is indeed the mistress, the editor is the wife.
Recommended Article: Wasteland Gods – a Review
