Dear Ally, How Do You Write a Book

by Ally Carter

  But no matter what your editorial process might be, know this: It matters. It will show in the finished book, and it’s what you’re signing up for if you really want a career in this business.

  I say it all the time: I’m an okay writer, but I’m a phenomenal rewriter. It might be hard at first to see what needs to change, so put that book in a drawer and write something else. When you look at it again in a few months, the things that aren’t quite working will be far easier to spot.

  I promise.

  The weirdest part about writer’s block is that I never hear writers use that phrase.

  Sure, strangers on airplanes talk about it. People at family reunions want to know if I’ve got it. “But don’t you ever get writer’s block?” is a question I’ve answered about a million times. “What do you do when you get writer’s block” is one I’ve answered about a million more.

  I’ve even heard some really amazing authors say that there is no such thing as writer’s block—that it’s a made-up concept some people use to try to glamorize not wanting to work some days. And I don’t think that’s entirely wrong.

  After all, a lot of people don’t understand that words don’t magically appear in their heads. Frankly, I think most people have watched too many movies where someone writes the Great American Novel in a three-minute montage that consists of them typing furiously and throwing pieces of paper at a trash can, all while wearing an assortment of cozy sweaters.

  Trust me, real writing isn’t like that.

  So I never really believed that writer’s block was real. I thought it was a kind of urban legend until …

  Cross My Heart and Hope to Spy happened.

  So, as I say in the Writing Your Series section, sequels are hard. Cross My Heart and Hope to Spy was especially brutal for many reasons. I still had my day job. I had a lot of pressure on me because book one in that series, I’d Tell You I Love You, But Then I’d Have to Kill You, had come out and was doing exceptionally well.

  But the biggest problem, it turned out, was that I started Cross My Heart and Hope to Spy with a premise and not a plot. So while I knew what the book would, generally, be about (boys coming to the girls’ school), I didn’t know what would actually … happen.

  Okay. Boys show up at the girls’ school! And then what?

  My character didn’t have a goal.

  Which meant my story didn’t have enough conflict.

  Which meant I didn’t have enough gas in the tank.

  I’m not exaggerating when I say that writing that book almost killed me, but I did learn a lot during that process. Not the least of which was that the writer’s block nonwriters talk about isn’t really true, but writer’s block itself is very much real.

  But as Cassandra Clare likes to say, “Writer’s block is never the problem. Writer’s block is the symptom.”

  My experience taught me that sometimes I can’t write because there’s something wrong with the story. And sometimes I can’t write because there’s something wrong with me.

  Which is why I believe there are three overall types of “writer’s block.”

  TYPE ONE WRITER’S BLOCK is where you just don’t want to write. Which happens. To everyone. All. The. Time.

  You think you should write … but your heart isn’t in it. Maybe you’re just tired. Maybe your favorite show just came to Netflix and you want to binge a whole season. Maybe all your friends are posting pictures of whatever awesome thing they’re doing without you.

  In other words, there are other things your writing mind wants to be doing. You’re not even trying.

  The good news is that there are two ways to tackle this kind of writer’s block. Either you stick yourself in a chair and force yourself to do it—shut down the distractions for an hour, and see what happens.

  Or you take the day off. Or the weekend. You scratch whatever itch you’ve got, and then you get back to work.

  TYPE TWO WRITER’S BLOCK is similar to Type One but far more serious. It’s where you want to write, but you just can’t put yourself in the chair, or if you do, that act alone uses up all your reserves.

  In this case, your writer’s block might be a symptom of depression or anxiety. Maybe you’re really sick. Maybe you’re mentally or physically exhausted. But for whatever reason, your well is just dry and you need to take a little while to refill it.

  Maybe that means curling up on the couch and reading a billion books. Maybe it means spending some time with friends. It absolutely means getting some professional help if the problem persists.

  Because, of course, this is more than writer’s block. It’s more like “life block,” and no one expects you to handle it alone.

  In these cases, I think the number one thing you can do is to just be kind to yourself. This might be the time to get on Twitter and mute that person who writes 6,000 words a day. Maybe you just manage to muster 100 words some days and that’s a struggle, so feel free to stop the comparison game. Don’t fall prey to the you-just-have-to-suck-it-up trap. Get some help and try to think about writing as the thing you do for fun. Because at the end of the day, if writing isn’t something that’s making our lives better, then why are we even doing it?

  TYPE THREE WRITER’S BLOCK is the one that I, personally, struggle with the most.

  With Type Three Writer’s Block, you’re showing up. You’re putting your rear in a chair and your fingers on the keys. You’re picking up the pen. And nothing’s happening.

  Or things are happening, but they feel like the wrong things.

  With Types One and Two, there’s something wrong with you. With Type Three, there’s something wrong with your book.

  And you can’t figure out what it is, so you stare at a blank page for hours. You write and delete the same chapters a dozen times.

  You cry.

  Whereas Type One Writer’s Block means you need to suck it up and go to work, with Type Three, you are working, but something about your book just feels off.

  I think this is a lot like playing a sport. Have you ever worked out and it was really hard? Have your muscles ever ached? Have you ever been out of breath?

  Now, have you ever gotten injured? Have you pulled a muscle or twisted an ankle or done something that your body really wasn’t supposed to do?

  Both things hurt, right? But one kind of pain (the you’re-working-out-and-it’s-tough pain) is what you’re supposed to feel and you have to push through it. The other kind of pain is the kind that tells you something is seriously wrong and you need to stop what you’re doing right now.

  All athletes learn the difference between those two types of pain. And writers have to learn the difference between these two types of blocks.

  Type Three Writer’s Block is that second type of pain. It’s the kind of hurt that tells you something in your story is broken.

  So, yeah. I now believe in writer’s block. But I also believe that it’s just part of being a writer. It’s never, ever glamorous. And it should never be an excuse. And in the end, you always have to keep writing.

  DEAR ALEX LONDON,

  What’s the hardest part about writing a book?

  For me, it is finding the courage to keep writing when the voice of doubt creeps in and starts whispering in my ear that I’m no good, that my ideas are trite, that my talent is lacking, and that no one cares. I have to learn to ignore that voice and keep writing through it, to trust the work and my vision and know that I can fix and revise what I write, but first I have to write it. It’s hard, but the only way to write a good book is to slog through writing a bad one first. I have to remember with each book that the worst writing I ever do is better than the best writing I never do and then I just keep going.

  This is pretty textbook Type One Writer’s Block. And some of that is to be expected. After all, a book can’t be written in a day. Or even a week. If you work on something—anything—for a long period of time, you’re going to get a little tired of it eventually. And some of that is okay.

  So on
the days you just aren’t in the mood for it, I guess you have to ask yourself why. Are you sick? Are you exhausted? Is this your body’s way of telling you that you need to take a break and take care of yourself?

  Or are you just … tired of writing?

  It’s okay to take some breaks—go see some movies, read some books, hang out with your friends. Maybe set your book aside for a long weekend and play around with something new? (Just don’t forget to come back to your original project come Monday!)

  I find that I write so much better if I take an “official” day off and then tell myself that tomorrow I have to go back to work. But the key there is simple:

  Tomorrow you have to go back to work.

  If you rest and relax and refuel and you still don’t want to write, then I think you might need some deadlines—they’re essential for me! You may not have an agent or an editor waiting for your book, but I bet you can make a deal with one of your friends or teachers. Make a bet with yourself.

  At some point, every writer faces a blank page and the knowledge that this is optional. It’s not for a grade. It’s not for a paycheck (yet). It’s something that we do, first and foremost, for ourselves. And we all have to ask ourselves, what is more important, having a finished book someday or spending the next three hours on the internet? Which would I rather be, someone who has finished my first book or someone who binge-watched an entire season of television this weekend?

  And if it doesn’t happen right now? If you don’t have a finished novel (or ten) before you graduate from high school … well, that’s okay. Writing should be fun. It should be something that enriches your life—not something that defines your life—and if it takes you a few years to find that balance, then there is no shame in that.

  Just keep writing.

  You’ll find your stride eventually.

  DEAR DANIEL JOSÉ OLDER,

  What do you do when the writing isn’t going well?

  Step away! The age-old writing advice is always BUTT IN CHAIR, but the truth is, most writing gets done when you’re anywhere but in the chair! Why? Because staring at an empty screen with the blinking thing blinking at you is stressful! And stress is bad for creativity. But being out and about in the world—walking around or working out or sitting somewhere quietly—can often open up all kinds of imaginative doors that stress closes. That doesn’t mean you never write, because of course, writing does take many, many hours of actually sitting in front of the computer or open notebook, clacking or scribbling away. But it’s important to take breaks and it’s important to allow yourself time to dream and let your mind wander as well. For me—I’ll go to the gym or take a long meandering walk if I’m stuck, and listen to some really good music, and that does the trick!

  To me, this is a textbook case of Type Three Writer’s Block. When you want to write—when you know you need to write—and you’re trying. You really are. But you don’t know quite what to write. Or everything you write just seems a little bit off.

  I know this feeling.

  I am the queen of this feeling.

  Sometimes this happens because you genuinely don’t know what to write next. Maybe you’ve written your character into a corner and you don’t know how to get her out. (Which is actually a good thing! A book where the characters never get into trouble is a very boring book.)

  Sometimes this happens because you have too many ideas for what happens next. Maybe you have a list of ten possible ways that your hero can find out his mentor is the one who is trying to kill him, and you can’t quite decide which one works the best.

  Whatever the case, in many ways, the solution for Type Three Writer’s Block is the exact opposite of what you should do for Type One.

  For Type One, the solution is, ultimately, to duct-tape yourself to a chair and not get up until you’ve met your goal.

  For Type Three, you need to get out of that chair! You need to take a walk or go for a swim. You need to take a nap or a shower. (Seriously. I know so many authors who figure out their books in the shower.)

  A lot of people think that, when the writing isn’t going well, they just need to work harder. In fact, a lot of times, that just means you need to work differently. Or, honestly, to take a break.

  Researchers have learned that there’s actually a scientific reason why we tend to think of things after we stop trying to remember them. Or why we can go to sleep worried about how to get a character out of a jam and then wake up with the perfect solution right there in front of us. Turns out our brains have two different networks in them. One focuses on creative thinking (the awesome ideas). One focuses on “effortful thinking” (getting stuff done). And we can only really use one network at a time. So while we’re in the trenches, focusing on our daily goals, the idea pathway is closed off.

  That’s why the good ideas usually come when you step away from the computer and put down the notebook—you’re turning off the let’s-go-to-work part of your brain and turning on the let’s-come-up-with-an-idea part of your brain.

  And this type of writer’s block needs the idea part.

  So give it some room to work.

  DEAR DAVID LEVITHAN,

  What’s the best advice you’ve heard about getting over writer’s block?

  Here are a variety of strategies I’ve heard. Any of them could work for you.

  1. Take a break and come back to it. Taking a walk or taking a shower seem to be the two leading suggestions for letting your mind take some time off.

  2. Talk it over with someone. It doesn’t have to be another writer. Talking about something uses a different part of the brain than writing it, and sometimes explaining out loud what needs to happen next unlocks the solution of what has to happen.

  3. If you don’t know what happens next, list all the possible next steps.

  4. Ask your character what you should do next. It’s strange how often they’ll have an answer.

  5. Work on something else. If you’re not excited by the thing you’re working on, find the thing that will make you excited about writing again and dive into it. That may pull you out of the writing slump.

  6. Back up a little, then restart. If you’re stuck midway through chapter 7, open a new document with just chapter 7. Then delete everything but the opening line and start writing it again. See if it leads you somewhere else.

  7. Make the wrong choice. If the idea you have for what comes next sucks, write it anyway. It may never be used, but in seeing why it’s wrong, you might discover the right course.

  8. Do what it takes to get to your ending. I was co-writing a book and didn’t feel my character was really falling in love with my co-author’s character the way he should have been. I complained to my co-author about it, and she said, “Well, then write the thing that will make him fall for her.” And that was exactly the direction I needed, to get back on course by steering the story in that direction in whatever way worked.

  The only thing harder than beginnings (and endings) are middles.

  Think about it this way: Writing a book is kind of like going on a really long airplane ride. When you first get on the plane, you might be super happy about going to Australia or Japan or wherever. You’re going on an adventure! And you just can’t wait; you’re so excited.

  Well, that excitement might last for a few hours, but about the time your back starts to hurt and you can’t sleep and the person next to you is snoring and you’re all out of snacks, then it’s not nearly as much fun.

  After a few hours more, you might start thinking that this was the worst idea ever.

  But here’s the difference: You can’t get out of a plane mid-flight, but you can stop working on your novel mid-draft. And a lot of people do—which is a mistake, because in a few hours, you might look out the window to see the Alps! Or some gorgeous island or the Great Wall of China! In a few hours more, you can actually see the reason you got on the plane to begin with, and then all your discomfort will be very much worth it.

  Middles are like that.
It’s easy to get bogged down with all the stuff that’s not going well. It’s easy to get bored or tired. It’s easy to start thinking that you’re doing all this hard work for nothing and you might as well give up. But that would be a mistake. Don’t think that because the middle of your book is harder to write than the beginning that you’re doing something wrong. It’s like that for everyone.

  Just remember that your story should be constantly changing. Never think of the middle as the place where you have to tread water. The middle should advance the plot. Your character should be on their quest, working toward their goal. They should be having ups and downs, and most of all, they should be facing obstacles.

  Conflict is gas in the tank.

  And if you’re disinterested, ask yourself why. Think about what could happen in the story that would make it more interesting to you. Odds are good that will make it more interesting to readers as well.

  Keep the tank full of conflict, and I have no doubt that you can make it to The End.

  And when you finish your big, long flight, I have no doubt that you’ll be really glad you made the journey.

  I’ve been really, really lucky in my career, because I’ve gotten to know some amazing writers. We’re all really different, coming from different backgrounds with lots of different styles and voices, interests, and hobbies. But one thing we all have in common is that we all pretty much live in constant fear that someone is going to find out we’re imposters.

  “That New York Times bestseller I wrote? Oh, that was a fluke.”

  “That big, fancy award I won? Oh, yeah. I totally didn’t deserve that.”

  Every writer I know has had moments of feeling like we just can’t do it. We don’t know how we did it before. We’re pretty sure we can never do it again.

  So take it from me—confidence doesn’t write novels. Arrogance doesn’t write novels. Egos don’t write novels. Novels only get written when people spend hours and hours and hours … writing.