Recently, I met with a fellow writer to celebrate the publication of her book and we ordered a glass of bubbly.
The owner of the restaurant asked what we were celebrating. When he found out we were authors, he said, “I’m so excited you’re here. It’s a sign. I’ve been thinking of writing a book about running a restaurant for ages, and here you are.”
I responded, “I think you should.”
“Ah, but how to get started?”
Since I’ve been sharing my writing journey, it seems everyone I meet wants to write a book about something. People like me—with no English or literature degree, but driven to tell a story. Some, like me, may have also been discouraged from writing. Yet, they can’t let it go. They have a story jabbering in their head, refusing to be quiet.
My story refuses to let me quit.
A commonly cited statistic is 80% of people want to write a book someday. Most never start. Of those who do, only 2% finish a first draft.
Some people, even some writers, swear that writing can’t be learned. The cynical take is that writing can’t be taught, most people can’t do it, and maybe they shouldn’t try. I call BS.
Transitioning from my logical, succinct engineering style to fiction has been difficult. I started off believing my success in writing for work, newsletters, and websites would transfer. I underestimated the complexity of the craft at every level of story. Four years later, I can confirm good writing can be learned.
This journey has given me insights into how to bridge the gap between wanting and doing. A perspective on where to begin and how to navigate the torrent of conflicting information out there on writing. How to find resources of quality that fit with me.
After reading more than a hundred craft books and listening to countless hours of podcasts on writing, I have a solid foundation. But I still have a beginner’s mindset, an asset often overlooked.
When it comes to pointing someone in the right direction, two considerations prevail:
Where they are in their journey?
How committed are they?
I find it easy to gauge both by asking, “What have you done so far?”
For people who haven’t written their entire lives and dreamt of a writing career, I find simple is best—a book dealing with basic story principles. Too much information and they give up before they start, or after the first few pages.
Simple also applies if the story only lives in their head or a few ideas jotted down. If they’re further along in the process, I’ll ask them what’s holding them back before making a recommendation.
The restauranteur, he was still in the “idea” phase. In the past, I would have told him to read Lisa Cron’s Wired for Story. Recently, I discovered a book that’s even better. At 130 pages, Jennie Nash’s Blueprint for a Book is the perfect primer (for advanced writers too). A relatively new addition to my library, and one I wish I’d discovered earlier.
What I like about Nash’s book is that it begins by laying the fundamentals—not with story or craft, but with the motivations of the writer.
Step one begins by identifying the most important question one needs to ask: why write this book? The next step lays the entire foundation for the story, asking you to identify what point you want to make. In fact, the first seven steps (or half of the process) deal with defining and shoring up the author’s motivation while simultaneously setting the framework of the story’s structure.
Other books touch on at least some of the fundamental questions, but present them in a way that often makes them come across like a footnote to something larger, like plotting structure.
Nash also covers the basics of structure and craft (protagonist, point of view, plot causality, etc.). She, however, sticks to the most rudimentary aspects, preventing the writer from being sucked into the quagmire of craft and plotting recommendations. I believe a deep understanding of craft is essential, but what beginners need the most is to get the first draft done.
What happened with the restaurateur?
I recommended Nash’s book.
He rushed to the kitchen and returned with paper and a pen, beaming. He took down the information. Repeated it. Turned to walk away, stopped and said over his shoulder, “I will go and buy this now. Thank you. This is my lucky day.”