I am certainly no genius. <glances at notes, which read PAUSE FOR ARGUMENT>. No one’s going to argue the point? I see.
So: Not a genius, it’s agreed. But I do have a particular set of skills when it comes to words and stories, and having complete about a thousand novels give or take (with maybe a dozen of those salable) I can claim to know at least a thing or two about the craft. Maybe not the right things, but … things.
One thing I know is that there are many, many ways to write a novel, including the often-overlooked super secret way: To not write a novel at all.
Every Story Tells a Story Don’t It
A novel is just a series of scenes, after all. I tend to be a bit linear in my writing in the sense that I start at the beginning and work my way to the end, and even if the scenes in-between those two poles jump around in time or are otherwise complex in structure. But there’s no reason you have to adhere to any sort of linear process.
My recent Avery Cates fiction, for example, are novels that are written as a series of novellas. This isn’t revolutionary or unprecedented, of course, but it’s a technique that I hit on for two reasons: One, I wanted an experiment to challenge myself, and this was a new way of working; and two, it allows me to work on a novel as my schedule and energy allows without delaying the satisfaction of finishing. Part of the joy of creation, after all, is putting THE END on the page and showing it to the world. By breaking my novel into parts, I get the best of both worlds.
It also makes writing more manageable. Instead of trying to create 100,000 words that all fit together, I can concentrate on writing 20,000 words and making those work. This takes away some of the complexity, allowing me to focus in on specific aspects of the larger story. It’s freeing.
Of course, you don’t have to break your next novel into novella-sized chunks. There are myriad ways of breaking a novel into more manageable chunks — down to the scene level, writing different scenes as they catch your interest instead of in strict chronological order. Just the act of cutting your story up into chunks can help clarify any issues you might be having.
Of course, I’ve also had a few recent novels collapse into chaos, leaving me just a short story to salvage from the debris, which is a bonus of this technique, since even failed novels produce standalone bits and pieces you can pull out.
The other advantage, of course, is that if I die suddenly the chances that I’ve finished one more story is pretty good. As is the chance that my hard drive is filled with photos of my cats and terrible poetry. Please come to my house, steal my hard drive, and burn it if I die. Thank you.