On Cranking Out Words

Over the last two months, I’ve been cranking on the sequel to Little Birds. Of course, as a parent to three small children and full time communications director, cranking looks a little bit different these days. Lately, it means choosing between knitting and writing each evening after we’ve gotten the kids into bed, or waking up early to bang out 1,000 words before the sun rises (this happens far less frequently than I’d like, given my habit of staying up late writing).

Mainly though, the two biggest factors in ensuring that this story gets written have been weekly check ins with my publisher (not many writers are lucky enough to have a publisher willing to carve an hour out of their week during the drafting phase to sit down and brainstorm, talk through sticky parts, and generally hold you accountable), and having my story document open–so that all I have to do is open my computer and click on the correct tab, and I’ll be ready to write.

But those two factors have been powerful motivators. My meetings with Ann Marie occur every Wednesday during our mutual lunch breaks. Just that simple meeting–and the sense that I don’t want to waste her time–is enough to get me to sit down and write on Monday and Tuesday of each week. And in the three months that we’ve been meeting, my story has gone from roughly 10,000 words, to over 45,000.

Having the story document open is also key: as my dear fellow novelist James Clear recommends in his book Atomic Habits, one of the keys to making something a habit is to minimize the barriers to getting started. If you’re hoping to start running more, get dressed first thing in your running clothes. If you’re hoping to write a novel, keep the Word document open.

It’s been a fun one to write, though tricky, because it occurs on an overlapping timeline with Little Birds. As the stories progress, I have to reread Little Birds to fact check when events happen, and ensure that the two stories match up.

When we published Little Birds, I was afraid that people would be disappointed by the lack of magic in it — the word magic is in the title, and yet the only real magic in the book happens in the first chapter and then never again. As part of my usual writing process, I always have my sister read my first complete draft, and I’ll ask her questions about where she expects it to go and how she feels about it as she progresses through the story. When she read Little Birds, she was very clear that she thought that the story would explain where the birds come from, and would dive into the mystery of the destinies. But instead, Little Birds is a story about what happens when the magic doesn’t happen for you–when destiny doesn’t arrive, and that ultimately doesn’t get resolved.

But this second book dives right into the mystery of the birds–and poses a different question about growing: what happens if my destiny arrives, but I’m not capable of handling it? I remember that feeling viscerally as I tried desperately to live up to the expectations of my parents, teachers, and college professors growing up. It’s terrifying–and even as an adult I sometimes fear that I’m not able to handle my own life adequately. This story unpacks that in what I hope is an empowering way for readers.

Anyway, aside from an update, I just want to throw some encouragement out there. I promise you that I’m not some magical writing machine. I promise you that I’m not spending all day and night on my book. Books get written word by word. Some days that means only getting a single word down, and that is good and okay and normal. If you’re working on a novel–just keep at it. Slowly, surely, your book will get written.