I wrote a post not long ago about my recent realization that the number of words I wrote on a daily basis over the past six years amounted to a little over 500, or about two pages.  And while I meant this to be heartening, in the sense that you really can accomplish quite a lot even in tiny bits so long as you’re consistent, I realized it may have left people with the impression that I personally have been consistent in my writing habits.

In fact, the truth is far from it. 

I averaged two pages a day, but there were many, many days I didn’t write at all.  These were balanced out by the days that I wrote between 5000-10,000 words.  There were some days I wrote more than what I had written in some months.  This is not something I’m proud of, but it’s partly due to the state of my life and it’s partly due to my personality.  When I really get into the throes of a project, not just with writing but with anything, I tend work on it obsessively until it’s finished.  In other words, my tendency is to be a project-oriented person rather than a process-oriented person.

What’s the difference?  A process-oriented writer usually writes every day, some fixed amount like two pages or five pages or ten.  A project-oriented writer often may not write for days or weeks at a time, but when they do, they may work around the clock until the project is finished.  There’s no right or wrong to either approach, and actually, most writers are probably a mix of the two.  The beginning writer is probably best served by being mostly a process writer, because the beginner hasn’t yet developed the writing skills or stamina to be able to sit down and crunch out 10,000 words.  Building those writing muscles takes time.  This is why you hear so many writers telling you to write every day.  But I do want to say that not all writers do this, that, in fact, a huge percentage don’t, and if you’re one of those people, you shouldn’t beat yourself up all the time that somehow you’re failing to become a Real Writer because you’re not writing on a daily basis.  The real truism, if you want to get better, is that you must write more, however you go about it, and that in most cases the more you write the faster you will get better and the sooner you will achieve success.   (I should also add that whether I write 1000 or 10,000 words a day, my actual writing speed is pretty consistent).

There are dangers in both approaches, however.  The problem for the project writer is that it’s easy for those stretches between projects to get longer and longer without you realizing it.  This is especially the case if you have a challenging life which can prevent you from getting to the keyboard as often as you’d like.   One of the chief dangers for the process writer is burnout.  Writing daily can soon feel like drudgery.

The solution?  Well, as I said before, I don’t think any writer is just one or the other.  Most are a mix of the two.  When I got very serious about the craft six years ago, I made a commitment to write every day, and that commitment was necessary to breakthrough all the inertia that had built up over the years.  But over time, I’ve drifted into becoming more and more of a project writer, which is probably closer to my personality.  My problem lately is that life has become so challenging that it’s easy for a few days between writing sessions to turn into a few weeks.  This is not good.

So my life, right now, dictates that that I veer back into being more of a process writer who occasionally allows himself to be a project writer when I’m in the throes of a particular project and want to finish it.  Translation:  I need to write at least a couple pages every day, but now and then I’ll schedule all-day writing sessions.  In my mind, this gives me the best of both worlds.  I keep my writing muscles sharp by writing on a near-daily basis, but I don’t keep myself chained to it.  I’ve also come to like the fallow periods of not writing, because I’m able to re-charge my writing batteries.  Of course this only works if there’s writing on both sides of that fallow period . . .

So if you find that writing has become drudgery, or that you’re not writing enough, try varying your project/process approach a bit.  I’m doing that now (back to a thousand words a day for me), and I’ll be sure to let you know how it goes.   

One of my frustrations the last couple years has been how hard it is finding time to read.  Any writer (heck, anyone) with young children can probably relate — there’s just not enough hours in the day anymore.  But a writer needs to read as much as he or she needs to write — it’s the creative fuel that keeps the fires of the imagination burning.

I’ve always liked audio books as a way to squeeze in more reading, but now that my daughter, Kat, accompanies me out to the university (where she goes to preschool), listening to them in the car isn’t much of an option.  Usually, we end up listening to one of her CDs:  “Head . . . and shoulders, knees, and toes, knees and toes . . .”   

I’ve had an iPod for a while now, but purchasing audio books is expensive and importing CDs checked out from the library is too time-consuming.  So I was happy when I stumbled across the Library2Go program, which allows library patrons to “check out” audio books to be downloaded to computers and MP3 players.  The iPod wasn’t compatible, so I sprung for the $35 (man, have the prices come down on these things) for a 1 gig Sansa.  I’ve been using it on my walks at lunch here at the day job, and it’s been great so far — tiny, easy to use, and even the 1 gig player fits three to four books at a time.   

While I’ve never been one to get excited about technology for technology’s sake — it’s always about what technology can do that matters to me — I have to say this has me pretty stoked. 

Ever since I got serious about writing — which dates back to January 2002, I remember it well – I’ve been pretty compulsive about tracking my progress.  I’ve got spreadsheets up the wazoo.  It may seem a bit anal to some folks, but think about it this way:  if you were a factory that made gizmos, wouldn’t you want to have good reliable data on how many gizmos you made a year, your sell-rate on gizmos, and just where in the world your gizmos were going? 

My spreadsheets help me not only maintain a professional focus with my writing, they help me stay honest with how hard I’m working at it.   It’s too easy to pretend you’re a writer if you’re not keeping track of how many words, pages, and manuscripts you’ve produced.  I don’t want to pretend.  I want to be.

Anyway, I was updating one of my spreadsheets when I came upon a number that surprised me.  For the last six years, I’ve written 1,136,341 new words of fiction.  Yay for me — more than a million words of fiction!  That’s a lot of short stories and novels.

But hold on a minute.  If you divide that number by the number of days (365*6=2190), you get . . . 519 words a day.

Which is roughly the equivalent of two manuscript pages a day.

That’s all.  Just two pages a day. 

Food for thought.

Up this week on The First Book Blog:  Anton Strout and his debut SF novel recently released from Ace, DEAD TO ME.

A snippet:  “For the past ten years, my day job has been working for Penguin Group (USA) in their paperback sales department and I’ve seen tons of books come through our doors.”

Read the rest of the interview here:  http://thefirstbook.wordpress.com

A friend of mine who’s recently had a number of editors request his manuscript asked me how I created a sense of urgency among agents and editors when I was sending out The Last Great Getaway of the Water Balloon Boys – since that was something I mentioned to him when I talked to him at a recent writer’s workshop, about the value of creating a sense of urgency.  I was going to answer him directly, but I thought my thoughts on this might benefit other writers, too. This is just my opinion, of course, and what I think worked for me, so take it for what it is. Other writers may have different experiences.

1. Have a great manuscript. I know it goes without saying, but well, I’m saying it anyway. Nothing you do will matter if you don’t have a great manuscript. However, remember that beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and where one person sees a diamond in the rough another sees only a lump of coal. There is no book ever published that was universally liked. Once your writing gets to a publishable level, it’s always about taste. 

2. Perfect your query, but also modify it for each agent or editor. Nobody wants to feel like they are getting a form letter. Even one or two sentences at the beginning of your query that’s tailored to each particular editor or agent helps a great deal. It could be about a book they sold that’s similar in tone or feel to yours, or a client they represent that writes similar books. A workshop or conference where you saw them speak.  Just something to make them feel like you didn’t just boilerplate your query.  Think small talk, but don’t pander. And make it real.

3. Be aggressive! In less than a week, after I decided to get serious about marketing Water Balloon Boys, I sent out 32 queries to both editors and agents. Not all at once, but staggered over the week. And not just to any editors or agents. I did my research. Yes, it’s hard work, and yes, it’s exhausting. But I’m fully convinced it’s a numbers game. There are many, many reasons why agents and editors don’t ask to see books, and only a few of those reasons have to do with the quality of your manuscript. (As far as how to research, check out my Resources for Writers page. It’s a place to start.)

4. This one’s probably going to be controversial, but I’ve come to believe it’s true: You don’t want an agent who won’t take email queries. Yes, you can make exceptions, but they better be heavy hitters with lots of bestsellers on their lists.  However, the agents most new writers are most likely to get — and the ones who will usually be the best fit — are the younger agents, the ones hungry to grow their careers. If they’re not taking email queries, they are behind the times. They are not serious about building their client base, because they run the risk of missing out on great clients.

Yes, I understand all their objections, that taking email queries makes it incredibly easy for any Tom, Dick, or Harriet to submit a manuscript, but so what? Rejecting email queries is also incredibly easy: “Thanks, but this one’s not a good fit for me,” and then hit the Send button. No sticking a letter in an envelope. No walking that letter to the mailbox. This is the way of the future, folks. The agent I ended up going with (the amazing Rachel Vater of Folio) read my query, asked for the manuscript, read the manuscript, and offered representation all in twenty-four hours. 

A postal letter wouldn’t even have made it from Oregon to Ohio in that time.

Is it any coincidence that Rachel is quickly becoming one of the hottest agents out there, with a growing number of clients hitting the bestseller lists? I think not. Her response to my query is indicative of the type of agent she is — one who’s agressive when she finds a project she believes in.

One other point: not one of my 32 queries was sent by postal mail. Not one.

5. Don’t stop because a few of them have asked to see it. That’s the worst thing you can do. Remember, you must believe you have a hot commodity. Everybody wants it. If everybody wants it, why would you stop when only a few people have asked for it? The best way to create a sense of urgency among editors and agents is to have many of them wanting it at the same time.  Think about eBay. What happens to the bidding when more than one person wants the same thing?

6. Always include at least the first five pages of your manuscript. I do this even when agents and editors don’t ask for it. There are a couple reasons for this. First, most writers write crappy query letters and most editors and agents know this. But lots of writers who can’t write query letters can write great books — which means that no matter how bad your query letter is, no agent or editor will be able to resist at least glancing at your opening pages.

I know this is hard to believe, but 99% of manuscripts are rejected in the first five pages even if the whole manuscript is included. If you haven’t hooked an agent or editor in those first five pages, you aren’t going to hook them. Sorry, but it’s true. However, the flip side is also true: if you have hooked them in the first five pages, there’s a decent chance that you can get them to read the rest of the manuscript. Why? Because you got them across threshold from looking for a reason to reject to looking for a reason to represent or buy. That change in mindset makes all the difference.

Important:  unless they ask for the pages as an attachment, don’t do it that way.  Include it in the body of the email directly below your query.  You’ll have to reformat it, but it’s worth it.  That way, if they’re not interested in reading the pages, no harm, no foul.  It didn’t clog up their inbox or get flagged by their spam program.  Being aggressive doesn’t mean being annoying. 

7. Don’t promise an exclusive. If they don’t ask, don’t mention it. If they ask, be honest. Tell them you appreciate their interest, but unfortunately you can’t offer an exclusive at this time. You’ve just started querying and you’ve already had a fair amount of interest. However, you promise to immediately let them know if there’s an offer of representation and to give them time, if they’re interested, to let you know why he or she would be the best agent for this project. Then you go ahead and send them the manuscript (by email or snail mail, depending on how they ask for it). 

Here’s the important point, and the point that probably gives new writers fits: if they decide to pass because you didn’t offer them an exclusive, you don’t want them.This means that 1) they’re too busy to take on a new client, 2) they’re not an agressive enough agent, or 3) they probably don’t believe in the concept of your book enough, which means you already have an uphill climb with them.

Some agents, especially ones who have been in the business a long time, are legitimately too busy to be the kind of agent that an up-and-coming writer needs. They might have a number of bestsellers on their list (and they know where their bread is buttered), they might have personal problems, or they might just be truly buried. In any case, they’re not the right agent for you.  A good agent can make all the difference, but you are better off having no agent than a agent who isn’t right for you.

Remember, for the most part agents are like Realtors. Their job is to help you sell an already sellable project. Why would you want an agent or editor who isn’t excited enough about your project to compete with other agents or editors for it?

8. An agent offers representation. What do you do?You listen, ask questions, and try to determine if they’d be a good agent for you at this time in your career and with this particular project. Sure, you want an agent who will be with you long term, but the most imprant thing is that they’re right for you now and with this current project. Everything else is hypothetical. Then tell them that you’ve had lots of interest in the manuscript, and to be fair, you need to give the others an opportunity to make their pitches. Any good agent will completely understand this. It’s a business, after all. You tell the agent that you’re going to give everyone until such and such date and then you will make your decision.

Now email anyone who asked to see the manuscript and anyone you’ve queried who hasn’t passed on it telling them that there’s an offer of representation on the table.You tell them you value everyone’s time, and you know how hard agenting is, so you want to make sure that anyone who’s interested has a chance to make his or her pitch to you. Then you give them your deadline. A week is ample time. An agent who really believes in the book will get to it in a week.

9. For me, this spurred a number of agents into action, and in the end, I had multiple offers of representation.It also spurred a number of agents to pass on the project. But that’s fine. That’s what creating a sense of urgency will do — it speeds up the process. Fast rejections are no different than slow rejections. However, a fast acceptance generally means extra enthusiasm, and in this business, there’s no substitute for having an agent or editor with enthusiasm for your project. I happen to know that Rachel Vater is incredibly busy, just buried in queries and manuscripts, and so her fast response time gave her bonus points in my mind. 

10. What if, instead, an editor offers to buy the book? What do you do? You thank the editor and tell them you’ll have your agent give them a call (even if you don’t have an agent). Congratulations! Now you have a huge bargaining chip you can use to get the agent you want. Be forewarned: you still want an agent who is right for you. Call the agents on your dream list and interview them. Take your time. Publishing moves at glacial speed. Taking an extra few days or even weeks means nothing in the grand scheme of things.

Closing thoughts

I actually signed with an agent before I had an offer from an editor, but I will say this: marketing my work aggressively was one of the chief reasons the editor who ended up buying my book even heard about it in the first place. If I had been passive, if I had sat around waiting for agents or editors to get back to me before marketing it to others, it’s doubtful this particular editor would have even heard about it.

Of course, that’s a story for another day . . .

My story, “Stone Creek Station,” has appeared in the anthology Beneath the Surface, edited by Timothy Deal.  Published by Shroud Publishing.  Buy it here.

And here’s the opening:

While cleaning out my office, I pulled the old Rand McNally atlas off the shelf and the book fell open to the two-page spread of the United States. I closed my eyes and made a blind stab at the map; when I looked down at the book, my finger had fallen in the middle of Oregon. The problem was that when I lifted my finger, there wasn’t a town there, just a mountain range and some lakes.

Still, I was determined to follow my method, so I turned to Oregon in the atlas, and located on the more detailed map the spot where my finger had fallen. There were a couple of small towns in the area, but one caught my eye: Stone Creek.

It was impulsive. It was insane. It wasn’t anything like me at all — always deliberate, always cautious. But that was the point. If you’re serious about starting over, you can’t trust yourself to make a clean break  . . .

Had a great time attending the Denise Little workshop on the Oregon coast this past weekend. Since Kris and Dean hadn’t done any workshops in several years, it was like a reunion for many of us, though I met plenty of new folks, too. Among those in attendance were Nina Kiriki Hoffman, Phaedra Weldon, Steve Mohan Jr., Ken Scholes, Adrian Phoenix, Peter Orullian, Loren Coleman . . . the list goes on an on.  A very talented bunch.

That’s one of the reasons I like Kris and Dean’s workshops so much. It’s not just the teachers (who are fabulous). It’s the students. There’s nothing better than being surrounded by a lot of writers who treat the craft as seriously as you do. Believe me, that’s a rare thing. The focus was on writing for anthologies, and I certainly learned a lot about that, but I also got a reminder on a very important lesson — one that I needed right now.

Everybody’s got excuses not to write. Everybody’s got excuses not to meet a deadline — whether it’s in a workshop or in real life. But no matter how good your excuse is, there’s always another writer who’s got a better one, and they met their deadline. So when I hear myself trying to reach for an excuse, and I’ve certainly got plenty of good ones (a day job, two young children, etc.), I’m going to ask myself if I want to be one of those people who uses excuses as justification for not writing, or instead one of those people who does the work anyway and then uses those challenges as a bragging point. “Hey look,” you can say, “I was sick as a dog and my bank just called to say I’m bouncing checks, but I still wrote ten pages.”

That’s not say some excuses are good reasons to not write — there’s plenty of awful things I can imagine happening that would stop me from writing. It’s just that it’s always my choice whether I allow them to stop me or not.

On another note: go check out The First Book blog. Up today, Kelly Simmons and her book, Standing Still. A snippet: “I’ve never been one of those people who has to have a certain kind of pen, or notebook, or desk. If I’d waited to have all the right things I’d never have written a word.”