How I write novels

My writing process is like oil painting

Oct 15, 2022

mixed paints in a plate — Photo by Mike Petrucci on Unsplash

Today, I want to talk about my novel writing process a little because I get a lot of questions about this and also because I’m curious about yours (if you’re a writer). I don’t mean the day-to-day writing rhythms and habits so much, the writer routines, which are also really useful to reflect on—another day. I mean the overall method of creating that once-daunting thing: A BOOK. I find it useful to read the processes of others in order to tweak my own or simply to understand how their art becomes realized.

This newsletter reflection is also a good reminder for me, since I’m going on a mini writing retreat to Vienna in a couple weeks to work on my current book project, which is a Vienna-based psychological thriller. With that book, I’m a bit later in the process, so rather than tell you about what I’ll do then in-media-res, I’ll start with the beginning and mention how this book fits into it.

Essentially, I think of my novel writing process as an oil painting. Oddly enough, my first protagonist was an oil painter! Although parts of it stray from this metaphor as well. I don’t think my process is better than anyone else’s or would necessarily work for you, but it works for me. My non-linear approach would probably freak some people out and perhaps it’s not the most efficient. Let’s see if I can start to make sense of it myself while I break it down here for you.

Sketching

My sketches with words happen all the time. Often I’m not sure the direction they’re going in, but sometimes I have a story in mind already and the literary sketches of a person or place are something sought out. In other words, I know I’m including a scene in a particular beach or cafe, so I might go there to ‘sketch’ an observation of it either on the spot or just after experiencing it.

Sketching might happen while sitting in public placers, like cafe terraces or parks. Other times, it happens at home after a scene I have witnessed or been a part of takes the shape of something in my mind. I might sit down at a normal writing time to write it, or it might come to me whilst trying to fall asleep…in this case, I must get up to take notes or I won’t be able to sleep. Sometimes these phrases or sensory details or elements of characterization come to me at odd moments: waiting for a tram, watching a television show, sitting at the playground.

tournerlesmots

A post shared by Kathleen Waller (@tournerlesmots)

I try to carry a notebook with me for these moments. Other times, I simply write the notes on my phone to use later. Often if I know I’m going out for the purpose of sketching or sitting down to do this early in the morning, I’ll use my computer where I can type almost as fast as I’m thinking. (Thank you, sixth grade typing teacher!) Other times, I languish in the joy of a slower process on paper notebooks. Causing myself to consider the language more carefully and making a first edit when I transfer this prose to digital form.

These sketches might sound photographic but they’re not. Well, maybe elements of them are: the color of a certain sky or a particular turn of phrase made into dialogue. But the sketch itself is a conglomerate of experiences — now and before — mixed with imagination and also mixed with inspiration from texts and theory, or ways of viewing the world.

Organizing

The sketches are all over the place. I have a system of naming novels: N1, N2, etc. (standing for ‘novel - 1’). There are five novels in various shapes at the moment. N1 is published. N2 is a completed manuscript; I’m tabling queries at the moment for a reason, but it’s essentially waiting for the final publishing touches. N3 is the Vienna book, somewhere in the middle. N4 and N5 I’ll leave a mystery, but they are only in sketch forms. Maybe the still-unimagined N6 will be published before them; there’s not exactly an order to it.

When I sketch, I organize the work under one of these designations. I might write N4 with a circle in the corner of my journal, so I know what’s on the page and that I should come back to it. My journals are highly unorganized besides these little marks. I tend to write in several journals at once. Some are more portable, others beautiful large things to hold on my balcony. Often my journaling and fiction-sketching blend on these pages and move quickly back and forth. I try to label where I shift, though it may be mid-page.

The written words eventually go onto computer files or sometimes I also start sketching directly on screen. On my computer, I use Scrivener files labeled by the numbered novel, which I find easy to organize into potential chapters or even just early ideas and characters, even though eventually I like long-form drafting on Word. A lot of writers use Scrivener for the ease of chapter making as well as its in-built publication tools.

As I place sketches into files, potential chapters also start to take shape. They are very rough and mutable at this stage, more like categories of ideas, ways of thinking, or places.

Mapping

Mapping of place is important in my writing. Maybe because I have moved around so much, place has become a strong element both in my research and fiction. Some might say it’s my subject altogether. Sometimes I would agree, or at least the way the place holds histories of culture and possibilities for individuals within it.

So a mapping of place and space is important in my work. However, a mapping of the plot and framing of chapters is also, of course, important.

the_matterhorn_magazine

A post shared by Kathleen Clare Waller (@the_matterhorn_magazine)

Recently, I conducted a remapping of the thriller I’m writing. You can see a photo of the process above. (There’s also an artist’s map of Vienna on the wall in the back!) Additionally, I’ve mapped out chapters on an excel spreadsheet. Not very artistic looking! But very useful when keeping track of a lot of tricky elements and double agents.

I’ve found that this type of book takes a lot more careful planning, in terms of laying clues and setting up certain characters’ multiple or hidden intentions. I’m mapping time, place, motivation, and more. I’m also mapping word count more carefully. As a type of genre writing, there is a plan that sells for a reason. While I’m not adhering to it strictly, I think that working mainly within this constraint has forced me to be more creative and build more tension.

But what I’ve also learnt in this process is that perhaps a more detailed map could help my write better non-thriller novels, at least after the sketching is done. It helps me consider dynamic elements, motivations, and the impact of place on a deeper level. Let’s see if it works!

Underpainting

Once I have a plan, I make an underpainting. The way I learned to paint with oils, we started with a shade of brown to build up a frame for the color that would go on top. It was still mutable.

I do something like this after mapping out my sketches. I try to write at a fast speed to get the essence of what’s occurring. At times, I skip over a scene and simply write something like: dialogue between y and z to show that z is in love with x. Or I may say: describe in more detail after visiting the museum. This allows me to keep a certain flow to the work and get a complete draft of what it may look like within an amount of time when I’m still likely to remember the beginning.

The process allows me to make changes to the map along the way. I can make a note, then go back and tweak an earlier chapter if I have to. I might move something around because it doesn’t flow right or even decide I need another unanticipated chapter.

My Vienna book - N3 - is in the underpainting stage. But I’ve realized in starting it that I want to go back to some places in the city for some more sketching. I need to feel the energy of the city. More practically, I need to look at a couple paintings housed there and take a particular tram journey.

I’m hoping to finish the underpainting by the end of November before taking a break, then moving onto the really colorful part below where the book begins to take a 3-dimensional shape.

Selecting a brush size and mixing colors

Once the underpainting is ‘done’ (with the thought that it can still be shifted), I begin coloring things in. Often before I do this, I wait a month or so in-between. Sometimes more. It kind of depends what other projects I’m working on or what work I have to do in my life / for money / whatever the case may be. In any case, I like a pause between each step because it gives me a new perspective. This is especially true as I later edit the ‘finished draft.’ (It’s not ‘finished’ — what I mean is that it’s like a full circle at that point, but it still needs a lot of work.)

Some of the sketches will be incorporated almost completely in the drafting process. Others will be painted over with more colorful language (hopefully not annoyingly so!) and more vivid narration.

Sometimes I need big brushes to paint a scene, to get across the atmosphere and the big thematic ideas or historical references. Other times, I need a tiny brush to examine something very closely. For this I might metaphorically use chiaroscuro to deepen scenes and provide dissonant variations in color (i.e. of characterization).

This is the lengthiest part of the process. I can no longer skip over sections; I force myself to color it in even if it is a difficult scene to write. I remind myself things can and will be changed again anyway, so I try to go with my instincts and not overthink it.

Erasure

Oil paints remain malleable for quite some time, sometimes for weeks. Similarly, I see my draft this way.

To help myself boldly delete something I’m not sure is serving the reader, I make large cuts but save the language elsewhere. It feels less risky this way, even if I never touch it again.

This part is still just before I print to edit more carefully. Here, I am reading quickly for flow and ideas. I’m marking things that don’t work, maybe even cutting whole chapters or identifying where a new scene should go. It’s not only erasing, but allowing myself to be ok with erasing as new pieces come up.

Criticism & editing

I usually do this process on paper. I hate to use so much printing but it’s the only way I can do it right. The printed words combined with intermittent time (as noted above) help me see the work fresh.

I take my manuscript in pieces to places where I can’t be distracted. Oddly, perhaps, for me this is a cafe. I am more distracted at home — by my books, phone, the internet. At a cafe, I can keep Wifi off and give myself a set amount of time to read without getting a snack or vacuuming or whatever else might entice me.

I really enjoy this part of the process, partly because I’m off my screen, partly because I can really see the shape. It’s a lot of work with detail — grammar or getting the dialogue just right — but this is enjoyable in a different way from the sketching and mapping. I get to really play with language, allowing myself to take an hour with a paragraph if necessary.

This whole printing it out and examining process, in my experience, happens twice on my end before giving it to another editor or querying with an agent.

Finishing touches

The final highlights and shadows on a painting or the frame you might give it, for me, represent the publishing process. The title, cover, font, acknowledgements…the many details that make the book whole are yet another process.

While I’ve ‘only’ published one novel, my books for teachers and published dissertations went through a similar process as the above.

In each of these cases, I aimed to create a living piece of art. So much goes into the writing that is invisible in the end, but so much can come of it that is likewise invisible.

The process of writing is like living for me. I don’t mean it is the most important thing in my life, but it helps the rest of my life make sense and take on a greater presence.

Do you write books? How does your process compare to this one? Or, what tips do you have about writing novels? We would love to hear your thoughts as well.