Celebrating A Fourth Draft

How am I going to celebrate? It is the day before Fireworks Day in the US (for good or not or debate), but the celebration I seek is for completing the fourth draft of the sequel to my first science fiction novel, Firewatcher. Just look at that sentence. Modifiers everywhere. A person, or even a reader, could get lost in there. What is worth celebrating? How?

Many writers know that saying “I finished my book!” takes some explaining because most folks figure you finished reading a book. Such an accomplishment maintains a bare majority position in the US. Actually writing a book? The last time I checked with a local library, they said ~2,500,000 books were written in the US in 2023. Unless many of them were first drafts, that means there were more times to claim finishing a book than there were books. 

Should each draft be celebrated? Duh. Of course. Should anyone besides the writer and their editor read them? That’s yet another debate. But, yes. Authentic celebrations are in too short supply in today’s world. So, celebrate.

But what have I actually accomplished? 

Despite decades of reading and writing and watching writers and the industry, I haven’t seen a repeatable and successful plan other than having piles of money for marketing, or lots of good luck, or both. There is no formula for success, not even for the big publishing houses. Do what works for you until it doesn’t. Then, ask for help.

Pardon any repetition from previous posts, but I always assume some readers are starting in the middle. Welcome to courageous newbies. Welcome to veteran visitors.

I write in drafts. Yes, there’s a bit of an outline, but it is simply a text file of disorganized notes that are added as they walk into my brain, or wherever. Write a draft. Pat myself on the back. Take a break. Maybe pop a cork. Maybe speedread the draft to find the potholes and splinters. Decide what to fix in the next draft. Repeat as necessary.

I’ll play with that idea of a splinter. I am Not a woodworker, but I can see writing a book like this:

• Decide to build a chair.
• Buy supplies and tools. Find a place or a way to work. At least have a sketch of what to build, even if it is just internal.
• Draft 1: Cut the wood into shapes for a seat, arms, legs, a back, etc. Give them enough detail that they can be duct-taped together into something that looks like a chair. Don’t sit on it!
• Draft 2: Make the tabs and slots, or drill holes and fasteners, or something more permanent than tape to hold it together. Do it will enough to sit on it – Gingerly!
• Draft 3: Adjust as necessary. Maybe add cross-bracing. Decide if upholstery will eventually be needed. Sit and wiggle, but be ready to jump up. 
• Draft 4: Stare at it and decide how deep to go into any redesign. Tweak as necessary. Make sure the pieces fit, and are also level and sturdy. Maybe relax in it as is.
• Draft 5: Begin sanding. Tear it apart if necessary, but get rid of those splinters you’ve already found. Look for more. Sit and squirm to see if splinters arise.
• Draft 6: Continue sanding. Many iterations may be necessary. Hopefully, sit more comfortably.
• Draft 7: Prep each piece. Build the whole. Sit on it for a while, possibly with a beverage in hand.
• Draft 8: Sand, varnish, paint, do what you need to do to call it finished. Enjoy it yourself, or invite others to see it.

At each step there’s an opportunity and a usefulness to sitting, to celebrate. That pause concludes a phase, a draft, and prepares the process for the next step.

I just finished Draft four of the sequel to Firewatcher. I’m done! – with that draft. My book is not a chair. I am definitely not a woodworker (though I did build a three-legged table that wobbled.) I am a writer and an author by experience, not by training. (#MassiveUnderstatement) My book’s process is slightly different.

Firewatcher – the first sequel

• pre-Draft: Listen to myself and others about what worked in the first book, and what should or could be in the first sequel. Save some of it for other sequels. Guess at where it is going to go from there. Guess at some goals for the characters and the series.
• Draft 1: Take the final scene from the first book, skip ahead a bit, and start from there. Knowing what they know, what would they do next? Repeat for tens of thousands of words, and do so with a very loose hand on the tiller. Steer, but don’t oversteer, and don’t just let it meander. Get the beginning, middle, and end. As I think they said in Finding Forrester, Write from the heart, then write from the head.
• Draft 2: Several things revealed themselves as major plot holes and logical gaps. Patch them over and fill them in, possibly by adding characters, abilities, or altering the ground rules (including the fictional aspects of physics.)
• Draft 3: Add drama, conflict, and character for the sake of the story and the readers’ interest. Mind the gaps.
• Draft 4: Smooth out the pacing, the action, the timing, etc. Let things build. Don’t rush, but don’t languish, either.
• Draft 5 (ideally): Speed read it, hunting for parts that stop my momentum. Hopefully, this will involve polishing, not big rewrites. Polish.
• Draft 6 (ideally): Grammar check, etc. Also do global searches on things even Grammarly can miss: alien names, technical terms, slang, etc. Check for things like ‘use’ versus ‘sue’. Make sure peninsula has enough ‘n’s. Don’t forget the ‘b’ in publication. That sort of thing.
• Draft 7 (ideally): Formatting for publication. Depending on the publisher, their template may suffice, but I’ll still massage it a bit for fixing chapter titles on the right, section breaks if necessary, etc. Also, add title pages, acknowledgements, many etc.s. 
• Draft 8 (ideally): Publish. Tell the world. Good luck and good fortune.

But what really happens is more complex. Draft 5 for this sequel is going to be a lot like Draft 4. As I was editing Draft 4, there was something nagging me. It was one of those subconscious splinters that kept poking me, proving that I’d forgotten something big. Finally, I had my Homer Simpson moment saying, “Doh!”

I knew what I’d left out. I so overthought the character development that I only lightly reminded the reader of the major existential motivation. If they didn’t solve it, they’d die. Of course, I’ve written that they succeed, and the basic hooks are there throughout, but quite literally, the characters should be talking about the weather. Watch the movie Key Largo. The characters are dynamic enough, but throughout, a hurricane is developing and impacting them. The hurricane doesn’t have any lines, but it is a major player.

I won’t go into the details of my book. That would be so involved that I should ‘simply’ finish the book. But, to slip another analogy in, this next draft will be like trying to surgically insert a backbone into a waiting and welcoming patient. This might be tricky. But, it can be done.

I’m not surprised. For me, writing a book is an iterative process. Writing a blog post like this is something I call a draft-and-a-half. I write it, glance at it, maybe let Grammarly fix the commas and such, and publish it. Total writing time less than two hours. For my books, each draft takes six to ten weeks. At some point, I declare completion, even if it isn’t victory. There are other things in life, like writing other books. And dancing, of course.

As a counterpoint, I have friends who meticulously approach every word. They may not move on to chapter two until chapter one is polished and primed. Where my writing can be measured in words per hour, their writing can be measured in minutes or hours per word. They craft literary sculptures that impress me. I bang 2x4s together with nails, smooth things out with a wood rasp, and call it done. Both models work, but in different ways.

Tonight, I’m going to celebrate. Dinner is leftovers, so that’s already done. An alcoholic beverage, unless I decide to drive to a dance. Maybe I’ll splurge and pay for a movie.

My goal is to finish the sequel (which does not have a name yet) in time for holiday sales. The next sequel will wait until I revisit my fictional historical tall-ships screenplay, unless there’s enough interest to shift the schedule. Aside from those two there are other books and blogs to write, and a life to be lived. That’s something to celebrate.