Step 1: Convince myself I’ll never have another good idea ever again.
Step 2: Have a good idea while driving, working out, showering, or engaged in some other activity that makes it impossible to write idea down.
Step 3: Panic.
Step 4: Hurriedly complete task and rush to write down new idea before it evaporates.
Step 5: Look at idea the next day and decide it’s soul-crushingly stupid.
Step 6: Repeat Steps 1-5 until I have an idea that doesn’t make me want to sprint face-first into a brick wall.
Step 7: Drink 8,000 cups of coffee.
Step 8: Begin writing.
Step 9: Panic, cry, rip hair out of head.
Step 10: Write some more.
Step 11: Drink more coffee.
Step 12: Resign myself that death is more likely to occur than the completion of the first draft.
Step 13: Finish first draft.
Step 14: Gallop around the yard yodeling.
Step 15: Call family and friends, announce the completion of the first draft of a new project.
Step 16: Dread re-reading first draft for fear that it makes even less sense than I anticipate.
Step 17: Re-read first draft through one squinty eye, taking loopy, scribbly notes. Realize large portions of the book don’t actually work.
Step 18: Die inside.
Step 19: Call family and friends, announce that I’ll soon be embarking on a solo hot-air-balloon tour of the world. They should come say their goodbyes as soon as possible.
Step 20: Google “how to become a hot air ballooning influencer”; wind up perusing help-wanted ads, paying special attention to local jobs that require neither reading nor writing nor critical thinking.
Step 21: Eat scoops of dry coffee grounds straight from the bag.
Step 22: Suffer.
Step 23: Lie on the floor with eyes closed listening to Mozart’s Requiem.
Step 24: Purchase hyperbaric chamber. Begin sleeping in it.
Step 25: Gird up my loins.
Step 26: Reopen the first draft file.
Step 27: Re-read revision notes, removing some of the more unhinged suggestions such as “maybe change setting to outer space??? IDK” and “find new profession.”
Step 28: General flailing as I try to decide where to start.
Step 29: Murder my darlings.
Step 30: Weeping, wailing, gnashing of teeth.
Step 31: Consume unreasonable amounts of cheese.
Step 32: Complete second draft. Begin to feel marginally human again.
Step 33: Close hyperbaric chamber; resume sleeping in bed. Revise book until it seems readable.
Step 34: Send latest draft to beta readers for feedback.
Step 35: Take cheerful jog, reacquainting myself with the feel of air on my skin and sunlight on my face.
Step 36: Return from jog to the awful realization that people are reading my book right now.
Step 37: Quietly dry heave into a trash can.
Step 38: Receive exciting yet horrifying emails full of contradictory lists of everything that is both very right and very wrong with my manuscript.
Step 39: [gentle keening]
Step 40: Wade through feedback and decide what—if anything—about the book needs to change.
Step 41: Play Bach’s “Come, Sweet Death” on repeat.
Step 42: Work on file titled “NEW NEW DRAFT, FINAL VERSION 2.0.”
Step 43: At some point, decide that the manuscript is “done.”
Step 44: Submit book for publication. Resume sleeping in hyperbaric chamber.
Step 45: Find a publishing home, celebrate, and prepare for book launch—all while oscillating between giddy joy and sheer panic.
Step 46: Convince myself I’ll never have a good idea ever again.
Where am I in this process currently, you ask?
Great question.
As sometimes happens in the writing life, I’m on Steps 12 and 44 concurrently. I have one finished project entering the publication pipeline while I’m wading into first-draft territory on the next.
Hoping to share good news on the completed manuscript very soon.
Watch this space for more details!