A Book a Year

At the launch evening for my current book last week, quite a few people came up and asked me, “So, what about your next book? Any ideas, plans? Or a bit early to say?”

I said, “I’ve finished it.”

Blank looks all round. “Finished it?” they said. “But you’re only just publishing this one.”

The fact is that I’m at one of the weirdest points in the writing process (if process is the word). Journalists are just now asking me about the “current” book, Steel Witches, which I actually finished writing last year; I’m already on to the final draft of my “next” book, the manuscript of which will go off to my agent shortly; and I’m starting to fill a scrapbook with plans for the “book after that,” which I’ll start writing in September (after an interlude by the pool in Mexico). The reason, of course, is the need to supply a book a year to a major publisher. I’m aware that the “book a year” issue has made some writers unhappy--but personally I can live with it, even though I have a day job, a young family, and a house rebuilding project on the go. I’m fascinated that some people who write full-time and don’t have kids can’t create a book in a year. I’m not proposing the Jack Kerouac “six weeks and a long roll of paper” approach, but a year is a long time.

So, what about that next book of mine? What does a book look like when it’s a couple of weeks away from being finished? Well, in my case it looks like the photo above.

I spend most of my time studying this plan, which I’ve taped to the wall of the bunker I use as an office. The white pages have scene-by-scene summaries of the action, split into the three acts (the three-act approach I picked up from the invaluable Robert McKee). The green notes are reminders to myself that something still needs doing. Interesting to see that most of those green notes are clustered around the second act; like a lot of people, I find the middle section of a book becomes the most heavily rewritten. One by one, over the coming weeks, those green notes will come off the wall, then each white page will come off, until finally I allow myself the great satisfaction of typing the TITLE PAGE in 36-point Courier font--something best left until last.

To anyone else in the final stages of writing a crime novel, let me offer you the best of luck. And at some point in the summer, do what we’re doing--find a good hotel in the mountains, with a pool and a bar. And maybe a desk.

READ MORE: “Top Writers Feel Heat from Publishers’ Presses,” by David Mehegan (The Boston Globe).