In which writing a book is not at all like riding a bicycle
Immediately after thinking of this title, I thought “well, writing a book is also pressing hard on someplace tender”, and even though it might be too early in the year for that sort of thing, in the spirit of embracing the willingness to change:
In which writing a book is kind of a little bit like riding a bicycle
ANYWAY.
In order to get my head back on straight at the start of the year, I like to pick a word. In 2015, that word was YES. In 2017, that word was NO. I forget literally all of the others, except for 2022’s word, which was DRAFT. I picked it because it works more than one way. First, obviously, I needed to draft some novels, at least three of them. But I also wanted drafting in the Tour de France kind of sense. If someone else was going to make my life easier by going in front, I was going to let them. I was determined that 2022 was going to be different. And holy cats, was it ever. I definitely “may you live in interesting times”d myself. I only have a couple regrets.
I’m sure that January through May of last year existed, but I don’t remember them very well. I had the Aetherbound sequel to think about and some new IP ideas to pitch, and taking notes on those took up more of my time. QUEEN’S HOPE came out, and I went into that strange sort of mourning authors get when their trilogies are completed. Eventually I realized that a whole era of my career was probably over. The last time this happened was 2017, so at least I sort of new how to handle my feelings. I made a list of ideas, and set about writing three books that I still had under contract.
In June, I took the ten thousand words of the Aetherbound sequel and drove to a little cottage by the sea in Newfoundland. The Aetherbound sequel was actually born in Newfoundland, in the parking lot of the Corner Brook McDonald’s as I texted Andrew about islands and space stations while looking out over the bay. It seemed appropriate that I would write the bulk of the book there.
In a dramatic break with tradition (and a moment of panic), I had written an outline for how I wanted the rest of the book to go. It took me about a week to finish the work, and when I was done, I was pretty pleased with it. I had a deliberately ace protagonist. I had an ending I’ve been dreaming about for half a decade (more, actually, but I'm only going to tell you that story if I get to publish the book). I wrote Morgan le Fay without making her a villain. I got to write Pendt Harland again, and I discovered that I had missed her.
The cottage I was renting didn’t have very good internet, and it was remote enough that there wasn’t really cell phone coverage either. I did what I often do when I am traveling, and started writing letters. Three pages each, front and back, to various friends. They were all incredibly random but I like to think I personalized them fairly well. The last one I wrote was to Andrew, and it began with a list of literally every idea I had, from the Sequel, which was drafted, to the Fantasy Book, which was at the time, a list of in-world curses. I put a stamp on it, and sent it on its way.
It has been several years since I have ridden a bicycle, but I like to imagine that I can still do it. I definitely would not be fast, but I think I could balance and remember how it works. Writing a book is not like that. It is different every time. And somehow I always forget. Because my GENIUS PLAN for right after I finished drafting the sequel, was to draft Secret #2 (The Druid’s Call).
NEEDLESS TO SAY, it didn’t go as smoothly as I planned. I did write about 15K before I came home, but I spent much more time staring at the ocean (largely because it was the start of whale season and I love whales. I actually saw a group feeding breach and it was fucking incredible. I fully screamed, as did the Japanese tourist beside me, and we were the only two who saw it). This meant July was a little more hectic than planned, and August was EXTREMELY hectic, because The Druid’s Call had an extremely tight timeline.
And right in the middle of it, I had what I thought was going to be an editorial call with Andrew. Only it wasn’t an editorial call.
(I cannot stress enough how not Andrew’s fault this is. Like, if you ever get to read the Aetherbound sequel, it will be because Andrew fought for you to read it.)
Obviously I pretended I was fine. “This happens!” you say to people in publishing. “This is just how it works sometimes,” you say to people who aren’t in publishing and don’t really understand how a whole book can just be shoved into a trunk. But the truth was that I was devastated, and in addition to that, I had just wasted half a year writing the damn thing. It was incredibly hard to keep writing DRUID (and plan ahead to Secret #2, which would ALSO need to be drafted by October). At one point, a friend was trying to give me a pep talk and said “Maybe Chris Pine will read it!” and I was so upset I responded “CHRIS PINE HAD BETTER KISS ME ON THE MOUTH” (note: what I really wanted was a hug from LITERALLY ANYONE, and thankfully The Trailer was available. Having a baby handy when you’re under multiple NDAs is great).
So I drafted. In both senses. (Um, except for the part where I bought a house, but even THEN I asked for help at every turn. I hired a total stranger to unpack my kitchen. I still haven’t found my recipe box. Or the cheese grater.) I just had to get DRUID across the finish line and keep Secret #2 on schedule. I could sort everything else out when I was done.
Except publishing doesn’t really work like that. If it’s your only job, as it is for me, you have to spin multiple plates at the same time. While this was going on, I ended up with a Secret #3 and #4, because that’s how you get paid, and Andrew, working of my list of ideas, decided on The Good Girls for 2024. I was scratching out more and more notes (bless colourful pens for keeping my thoughts easy to code), and it was fun, but it was also a lot.
To give you an idea of how stressful my fall was, I only read two books between mid-September and the end of December. But I did it. I got it done. I was late on almost everything, but not too badly, and I managed to keep my brain and spine intact, and bake two pies for Christmas Eve dinner. And kind of unpack my house. I’m calling it a win, but I never want to do it again.
I probably will, though. That’s just how it goes.
To that end, I have chosen my word for 2023: redirect. Because if I am going to be stuck on this bicycle, I’m going to do a better job of steering. Which, as Emma pointed out, exactly matches the mantra I chose in 2012: Fly the plane, Maddie. Fly the plane.
The Druid's Call is available for pre-order everywhere, but it's always nice to go with your local indie. If you wanted to be REALLY awesome, you could add a copy of Aetherbound to your pre-order. If you are after personalized signed copies, please check out Old Firehouse Books (US) or Fanfare Books (Canada) by February 14. As long as you purchase The Druid's Call, I am happy sign anything else in your order. Americans will receive bookplates due to postage prices, but it'll still have both our names on it.
