ChatGPT writes a trashy novel that fits all the current market trends

So just for fun, I asked ChatGPT to list the post popular tropes in science fiction and fantasy literature right now, pick the most popular subgenre, and write up a novel synopsis that mashes up all of those tropes.

To no one’s surprise, the subgenre it chose was romantasy, but it also threw in dragons, dark academia, and time magic. Here is the complete synopsis:


Here is a tighter, sharper, more compelling 1000-word synopsis that follows the same outline but sells the story harder—maximizing emotional hooks, character stakes, and the high-heat romantasy appeal. Spoilers intact.


The Hundredth Life of the Dragon-Bonded

Rina Ashvale has always been ordinary—poor, unnoticed, unimportant. But on the morning of the Day of Choosing, she wakes with the unshakable feeling that she’s lived this day before. And died in it. Images flash behind her eyes: burning skies, a dragon’s scream, a prince’s hand dripping with blood. None of it makes sense.

Everything changes when Sereth, the most ancient and aloof of all dragons, chooses her as his rider. The bond hits like a lightning strike: thousands of half-formed memories, shards of forgotten lives, and a sense of wrongness in the fabric of the world. Sereth refuses to explain, and Rina finds herself thrust into the elite dragon war-college—completely unprepared, utterly overwhelmed, and lodged in the same wing as the kingdom’s most dangerous cadet: Prince Kael Vorian, heir to their nation’s long-time enemy.

Their first interaction is a disaster. Kael—brilliant, beautiful, and infuriating—sees Rina as an unworthy upstart bonded to a dragon she doesn’t deserve. Rina sees him as an arrogant elite who’s never had to fight for anything real. But whenever they clash in the skies, sparks fly far beyond anger. Something in the dragon bond won’t let them ignore each other.

As Rina trains, she slowly forms a found family with three other misfit cadets—gentle Jory, fierce Thalia, and quick-tongued Marek. Life at the academy carries surprising warmth: late-night mess hall confessions, shared exhaustion after flight drills, stolen pastries in the city. For the first time in her life, Rina feels like she belongs.

But then the déjà vu returns—harder, sharper. She predicts an ambush drill seconds before it happens, saving Kael’s life in a maneuver she can’t explain. When she confronts Sereth, the dragon finally admits the truth:

The world is trapped in a time loop. Ninety-nine times, humanity has fallen to the Void. Ninety-nine times, reality has reset to the beginning of this academy term. Dragons remember. Humans do not.
Except Rina.

Her growing memories mean one thing: she may be the first human in a hundred loops capable of breaking the cycle.

But the moment Rina begins changing events—saving lives that used to be lost, altering training outcomes—the Void adapts. Darker monsters appear. Missions that were once safe become fatal. Jory loses his arm. Marek nearly dies. And Rina realizes a horrifying truth: every change she makes doesn’t erase suffering—it only shifts it onto someone else.

Through it all, Kael remains her fiercest rival and most dangerous ally. Their tension spikes during a magical mishap that amplifies emotion, throwing them into a breathless near-scene neither can forget. During the annual Festival of the First Flame, in the chaos of a Void creature attack, they end up pressed together in a narrow alley, clinging to each other with equal parts fear and longing. When they finally give in to the desire they’ve been denying—an explosive, passionate moment in the dragon stables—they can no longer pretend what’s between them is merely conflict.

But Rina’s growing memories deliver an unbearable blow: in one of the previous loops, Kael burned her village to the ground to slow the Void’s advance. He admits it. He regrets it. He would do it again if it meant saving the world.

Their fragile connection shatters.

As the loop destabilizes, the world begins to tear. Rina slips into the Twilight Reach, the dream-realm dragons inhabit between deaths. There she meets the Hollow King, a godlike Void entity who has been feeding on the loop for centuries. He offers her a seductive bargain: sever the dragon bonds and the loop will end forever—no more death, no more suffering. But it would also mean the extinction of dragons, the world’s only memory-keepers.

Rina refuses. She will not save the world by erasing its heart.

Meanwhile, Kael uncovers a devastating truth: his father, the emperor, is planning a military strike to seize the academy’s dragons, a move that could break the loop catastrophically and hand victory to the Void. Kael offers to kill his father to prevent it. Rina stops him. Instead, she proposes a desperate ritual to jump the timeline forward—getting ahead of the emperor’s plan.

The ritual fails spectacularly.

Time fractures.

The academy splits into two overlapping timelines—the unchanged past loop and the altered timeline Rina and Kael created. Students flicker in and out of existence. Some have duplicates. Others appear as ghosts of who they were meant to be.

Rina’s squad members are caught between versions of themselves. With Sereth’s help, Rina merges their memories, giving each friend the best parts of both lives—even if it costs Sereth more of his dwindling strength. Every memory he surrenders feeds the growing collapse of the loop.

Rina finally understands: dragons carry the burden of memory, but they cannot change it. That’s why the loop always resets. Only a human mind—someone capable of holding all ninety-nine lives at once—can force time forward for good.

She volunteers to carry the full weight of the loop. Kael refuses to let her do it alone.

Together, in the Twilight Reach, Rina and Kael confront the Hollow King. Sereth sacrifices himself to shatter the loop, unleashing all his stored timelines in one final blaze. The Hollow King retreats—but not before warning that breaking the cycle will unleash consequences no one can predict.

Rina and Kael awaken in a world that has never existed before: one without resets, without second chances, without dragons except for a few younglings who survived the collapse. The academy is in ruins. Their nations have fractured. Rina’s village is gone in every timeline. Kael is disowned. The world is raw and wounded—but real.

With their surviving squadmates, they build a small dragon-rider outpost beside a river. Half refuge, half academy, it becomes the first place Rina has ever chosen for herself. Kael stays with her—not as a prince, not as a rival, but as the man who shared a hundred lifetimes of pain and desire with her.

For the first time, dawn breaks on a future that isn’t written.

Standing together in the new light, Rina and Kael speak the vow that binds them:

“We will be the dragons who remember.”

The loop is broken.
The world is reborn.
And their love—forged across a hundred lives—has finally outrun time itself.


So what do you think? Does it sound like something you’d actually want to read? Like something that might even be better than most of the trashy, trendy novels out there, even if it’s total AI slop?

I have no intention of actually writing this book, so if you feel like writing (or generating) it, knock yourself out. Just send me a link if you actually publish it.

Five things I did at work last week

I’ve been so busy, I almost forgot to do one of these posts! Here are my five bullets from last week, feel free to add your own in the comments:

  • Wrote a detailed scene map for The Soulbond and the Sling. I estimate the novel will be 20 chapters, 80 scenes, and 110,000 words, though the word count estimate is probably low.
  • Wrote seven-point outlines for the other six books in the series.
  • Generated all of the characters and worldbuilding cards for The Soulbond and the Sling on Sudowrite.
  • Wrote and sent an email newsletter.
  • Conducted a monthly planning session.

Prepping for a new novel project

I am so far behind on so many things right now. My in-laws went to Idaho for the week, so all of the childcare has fallen on us while they’re gone, and we’ve just been swamped. I know that there are amazing parents out there who can watch five kids at a time, by themselves, without breaking a sweat, but we haven’t leveled up that far yet, and our newborn and three year-old are really kicking our butts.

It probably didn’t help that I started a new AI-assisted short story about a week ago and became really engrossed in that for a while. It all started when I prompted ChatGPT to write a story about Conan the Barbarian in the style of Robert E. Howard. Let me tell you, if you want to get ChatGPT to break its own content guidelines in a totally awesome way, that is the way to do it! It gave me this awesome fight scene, and then this part about a slave girl, and then it got super steamy… and then I decided to delete it and start over.

So I started a new chat, with the prompt “Let’s write a fantasy adventure story in the style of Robert E. Howard,” and immediately it launched into a pretty good fight scene. Here is what it gave me:

The sky was blood-red as the setting sun cast its final rays across the desolate landscape of the wasteland. The cracked earth was parched, and the air was thick with dust and despair. In the midst of this barren terrain stood a lone figure, clad in tattered armor, with a sword sheathed at his side. His name was Roderick, a seasoned warrior who had seen many battles in his days.

Roderick had been on a quest to find the lost city of Xulthar, rumored to hold unimaginable riches and ancient secrets. But the journey had been treacherous, and he had faced countless obstacles along the way. His companions had fallen one by one, leaving him to brave the dangers of the wasteland alone.

As night fell and the moon rose, Roderick sought shelter in the ruins of an ancient temple. Its crumbling walls were adorned with faded symbols of a long-forgotten civilization, and its dark interior was filled with an eerie silence. Roderick’s senses were on high alert as he made his way through the labyrinthine corridors, his sword ready in his hand.

But he was not alone.

A guttural growl echoed through the air, and Roderick whirled around to see a pair of glowing red eyes staring at him from the darkness. A monstrous creature, half-human, half-beast, lunged at him with razor-sharp claws. Roderick swung his sword with all his might, but the creature was fast and agile, evading his strikes with unnatural speed.

The battle was fierce and brutal, as Roderick clashed with the creature in a deadly dance of steel and blood. His muscles strained, and his heart pounded with adrenaline as he fought with every ounce of his skill and strength. The creature was relentless, its claws slashing through the air with deadly precision, but Roderick’s sword found its mark, slicing through flesh and bone.

Finally, with a final swing, Roderick delivered a crushing blow to the creature, sending it crashing to the ground. Its red eyes faded, and its grotesque form transformed into that of a man, clad in ragged clothes.

As Roderick caught his breath, he looked down at the fallen man, who was gasping for breath, his eyes filled with fear and confusion. Roderick recognized him as a lost traveler who had succumbed to the dark magic of the wasteland, transforming into a monster. He had seen this before, a dark sorcery that twisted the minds and bodies of those who dared to venture too far into the forbidden lands.

Roderick’s heart went out to the fallen man, and he knelt down beside him. With his last breath, the man begged for forgiveness, his human form returning briefly before he passed away. Roderick closed the man’s eyes, offering a silent prayer for his soul.

With a heavy heart, Roderick continued his journey, pushing deeper into the heart of the wasteland. He knew he was close to finding Xulthar, and he could feel the pull of its ancient power growing stronger with each step he took. But he also knew that the dangers ahead would be even greater, and he would need all his skill and courage to overcome them.

As he pressed on, Roderick encountered more of the twisted creatures that lurked in the wasteland. He battled monstrous beasts and encountered treacherous traps, but he never wavered in his determination. He was a warrior forged in the fires of battle, and he would not be deterred.

Finally, after days of relentless pursuit, Roderick stood at the entrance of a massive stone gate adorned with intricate runes. This was it, the entrance to Xulthar. He could feel

Not too bad. A little rough around the edges, much like everything ChatGPT gives you at first, but I decided to work with it. I prompted the model to give me the story all the way from start to finish, and then, instead of simply copy-pasting, I decided to manually transcribe it myself, adding and editing as I went.

One thing led to another, and pretty soon I was 4k words into a short story that was taking on a life of its own. It bore only a loose resemblance to the material ChatGPT gave me, at least in terms of overall story structure. Over the next few days, I tried forking the conversation at a few points, copying what I’d written to see what ChatGPT came up with next, but it wasn’t keeping up very well, and I found myself using less and less of what it was giving me.

At the same time, the story was quickly turning into a novelette, and from there into a novella. In fact, it was ballooning so quickly that I realized I was neglecting my novel WIP, Children of the Starry Sea. So I decided to set the story aside for a while…

…except then it occured to me that I’m going to need a new novel WIP in May, and the one I had planned (Return of the Starborn Son) isn’t really outlined yet. I’ve been trying to outline it while finishing the revisions for Children of the Starry Sea, but haven’t made much progress on it, and it’s going to be a big one—possibly longer than Children when it’s done.

So I thought to myself, why not turn this story into my next novel WIP and work on outlining that instead of Return of the Starborn Son? With post-it notes and a dry erase marker (and some help from my toddler, who decided which color post-it notes to hand to me), I put together a basic story outline, which should come out to about 40k words when it’s done. As you can see, I used the window of my home office to put it all together, which was fun. 40k words is pretty short for a novel, just barely crossing the line over what SFWA considers a novella, but for a Conan-style sword & sorcery fantasy, it should be perfect.

I’ve also decided to make this an AI-assisted novel, using ChatGPT of course but also trying out Sudowrite, which looks like a much more useful AI writing tool. Getting ChatGPT to help you write anything longer than about 4k words is like trying to write on a whiteboard with boxing gloves on your hands. It’s going to be experimental, but I think I can turn it into something publishable in the next three or four months. It should be a fascinating learning experience either way.

How I hacked my ADHD to triple my daily word count

Writing with ADHD can be tough. It’s easy to beat yourself up for being “undisciplined” or “lazy” when the greater problem is that you’re trying to work against your ADHD instead of finding ways to make it work for you. It’s like swimming against a rip current instead of swimming sideways to get out of it.

In the last month, I’ve made a really fantastic breathrough that I think will change the way I write from here on out. So far, it’s helped me to double or even triple my usual word count. The novel I’ve been wrestling with for more than a year now—the longest one I’ve written since I started indie publishing—now looks like it will be finished in just a few of weeks, when I expected it to take a couple of months. Needless to say, I’m really excited.

What changed? I found a way to make my ADHD work for me, rather than against me.

In my previous post, A reading hack for the ADHD addled brain, I explained how I exploited my ADHD to read more books. Basically, I did the same thing, but for writing. There was a lot that had to happen first, though, and the biggest of those was that I had to learn how to make and keep an outline.

Step 1: Learn how to outline properly

For years, I just sort of assumed that I was a discovery writer, probably because of the ADHD. Most of creativity has to do with finding novel or unexpected ways to combine two or more ideas, and when you have ADHD, your brain naturally jumps from idea to idea. That was why I always hated taking meds when I was a kid: I felt that it stifled my creativity. And since most of this idea jumping happened subconsciously, I assumed that outlining would also kill that process.

But after a few years of struggling as an indie author, I realized that my writing process was too slow. In order to succeed, I needed to publish more frequently, but in order to do that, I needed to produce more content regularly. Back then, I would usually write a novel from start to finish, laying it aside for a month or two if I ran into a serious block, and also after finishing each draft. A typical novel would go through two or three revision drafts, so it would literally take years before a +70k word novel was ready to publish.

I decided that the best way to shorten my writing process was to “cycle” through the book, combining all the drafts so that I was working on revisions while simultaneously writing the rough draft. In order to keep track of all that, I needed to keep an outline. So I tried out a few different methods and tweaked them until I came up with a method that worked well for me.

The thought of outlining can scare a lot of writers who consider themselves “pantsers” or “discover writers,” but the thing to keep in mind is that there is no one right way to keep an outline. In fact, there are probably as many ways to outline as there are writers. For some, a couple of quick sketches on the back of a napkin is enough, while for others, it turns into a massive story bible that’s just as long (or longer) than the actual book. But without trying out a lot of different methods, you’ll never figure out what works for you.

It took me a couple of years, but I eventually developed a method that worked really well for me. With it, I was able to write Edenfall and The Stars of Redemption, as well as the last two Gunslinger books, in much less time than it took for my other ones. I was also able to combine all eight of the Star Wanderers novellas into a novel—something I probably wouldn’t have been able to do very well without a solid outline to keep it straight.

But I still would run into blocks that would occasionally derail the project, at least for a little while. I ran into that a lot with my current WIP, Children of the Starry Sea. Sometimes, they were genuine story problems that I needed to work through. More often than not, though, the problem was one of momentum: I was having too many bad writing days interspersed with the good writing days, so that each day felt like I was starting from zero. After a while, that becomes difficult to keep up.

Step 2: Allow yourself to write out of order

When I came back from my second hiatus to work on Children of the Starry Sea, it was clear that my new method wasn’t working as well as I needed it to work. Children of the Starry Sea is much longer than anything I’ve published so far, and I found that I just wasn’t producing enough new words consistently to make my “cycling” process of revisions work.

Around this time, I remembered something I’d heard on a recent convention panel, where one of the authors shared how he collaborated with another author. Instead of going back and forth, he told his cowriter: “how about you just write all the odd chapters, and I’ll write the even chapters, and when we’re both done we’ll combine it all together and see how it turns out.” To their surprise, it actually turned out really well.

So with that in mind, I decided to experiment with skipping around my current WIP, rather than writing it in order from start to finish. If I woke up and felt like I wanted to write an action scene, I would pick one of the action scenes out of my outline and write that. If I felt like I wanted to write the ending, I would skip ahead and write that. If I felt like I wanted to write the next scene, I would go back to where I’d left off and write that.

The outline was the key. Without it, there’s no way I’d be able to keep everything straight and know where each part is supposed to go. The outline also had the added benefit of dividing the novel up into smaller chunks, making the overall project much less intimidating. The way to eat an elephant is to take one bite at a time, just like the way to climb a mountain is to take one step at a time. Same thing with novels.

That’s all well and good, you may be thinking, but what happens when you’ve written all the stuff that you want to write, and all that’s left is the stuff you didn’t want to write? Isn’t that a bit like eating your dessert first, and leaving your vegetables for last? Not really, because chances are that if you really don’t want to write a particular scene, the reader probably won’t want to read it either. So if you can find a way to rework your story so that scene becomes unnecessary, you’re probably better off doing that.

But I actually haven’t had that problem yet. The thing about ADHD is that it actually feels right to jump around all over the place like that. Just because I don’t want to write a particular scene on one day doesn’t mean that I won’t want to come back to it sometime later. And more often than not, writing a later scene actually makes things fall into place with the earlier scenes, and makes me more excited to write them.

It’s as if the project itself is a puzzle. Can you imagine trying to put a puzzle together in linear order, starting from the top left corner and moving to the bottom right? That would be pure torture! Instead, you pick up whatever pieces catch your eye, and try to fit them in with other, similar pieces, until the puzzle itself begins to take shape.

There a lot of disadvantages to writing with ADHD, but there are some areas where the ADHD can actually become a strength, if you learn to work with it instead of against it. I’ve already mentioned how it can help with creativity, since your mind is always bouncing around between different ideas. What I’ve learned in the last month is that writing out of order is another great way to harness ADHD as a strength, since something that leaps out from writing one scene can often lead to a breakthrough in another. Writing out of order gives your ADHD brain the space it needs to make those intuitive leaps, and harnesses the “oh, shiny!” toward something productive, rather than driving you to procrastinate.

Step 3: Start in the middle, not the beginning

For me, the hardest part of writing is getting started. That’s probably my ADHD: it’s always easier to get distracted than it is to settle down and do what you’re supposed to do. Once I’ve settled down, though, and gotten into a groove, I can usually stick with a task until it’s done. In fact, once you’re in something of a flow state, the ADHD can actually make you hyperfocus.

So if the hardest part of writing is getting started, how do you turn that from a weakness into a strength? By leaving the next scene(s) unfinished, so that the next time you sit down to write, the scene has already been started and you just need to figure out the next word. One word leads to the next, and before you know it, you’re in the groove again.

By far, this has been the biggest part of my breakthrough: realizing that I don’t have to write every scene from start to finish in one sitting. In fact, it’s better if I don’t. Instead, I’ll typically finish one or two scenes in the morning, then pick out three to four scenes in the afternoon and write the first couple hundred words or so, deliberately leaving them unfinished so that I have a variety of scenes to choose from the next day.

If the hardest part of writing is getting started, then the hardest part of getting started is feeling overwhelmed at how much you have to do. But if all I have to do is write a couple hundred words, that’s easy! It also works with my ADHD instead of against it, since I get to jump from scene to scene instead of getting bogged down.

With the way that I used to write, most of my “writing blocks” had less to do with the actual writing and more to do with working myself up to write. Many times, I found that if I just sat down and opened up my WIP without thinking too much about it first, the writing would come a lot easier. Starting in the middle is a great way to harness that, because you aren’t confronted with a blank page the moment you sit down. It takes a lot less effort to find the next word than it does to find the first word.

So with where things stand right now, I just need to start four new scenes every day this week and I’ll have every remaining scene in my novel WIP started by Saturday. From there, if I can finish two or three scenes a day, I can easily finish the rough draft stage of this novel WIP before the end of February—which will be amazing, since I’m only at the 65% mark right now, and historically that’s always the part where I find it most difficult to write.

I’m really looking forward to writing a whole novel from start to finish using this method. As soon as Children of the Starry Sea is finished, I’ll start outlining the sequel, Return of of the Starborn Son, and write it the same way. If things go well with my current WIP, I’ll be very optimistic about finishing the next one before the end of the year—perhaps even before the end of the summer.

I do expect things to get crazy around here soon, though. Our second child is due in the early spring, which means enduring a month or two of chronic sleep deprivation. I’ve gotten to be pretty comfortable with writing at 4AM, but we’re also getting a lot more uninterrupted sleep than we were when Princess Hiccup was a newborn. I anticipate that we’ll have at least a month where nothing gets productively done.

So it will be really fantastic if I can finish Children of the Starry Sea NOW, before the baby comes—and not just the rough draft, but the revisions too. Fortunately, I don’t think I’ll have too much difficulty with the revisions. I’ve already cycled through the first half of the book a couple of times, and it’s working pretty well. Also, revisions come a lot easier to me than writing new words. I’m not sure why that’s true, but it is.

And for the record, I don’t advocate jumping around all over the place while doing revisions. It’s probably best to do that part in sequential order, if nothing else than to make sure that all the scenes and chapters flow properly. I haven’t gotten to that part of this writing method yet, so it will be interesting to see how it goes. So far, the stuff I’ve cycled through actually seems to flow pretty well, but I need to take it from the beginning to really be sure.

Toward a new writing technique

For the last year, I’ve been struggling to write this novel (Children of the Starry Sea, Book 2 of the Outworld Trilogy) according to my new novel writing method, which I’ve been developing since about 2017. The method involves creating a rigorous scene-by-scene outline and cycling through each scene multiple times, so that you basically revise the book as you go.

However, for a novel WIP the size of Children that doesn’t seem to work very well: either my mind is stuck in the revisions, or I’m so focused on producing new words that I don’t get around to revising, or (as happens most often) I’m so torn between both that I can never get in the right headspace, and my productivity suffers.

One of the things that happens is that I get hung up on a scene that I don’t really want to write. There are other parts of the story that appeal to me, but in order to get to them, I have to write that scene first… IF I’m writing the whole book in order from start to finish. So because I don’t want to write the next scene, I end up working on revisions for a while, which makes it harder to get back into the right headspace to write new stuff… you get the picture.

But the thing is, because I have such a rigorous scene-by-scene outline, I don’t actually need to write all the scenes in order. So lately, I’ve been picking and choosing which scene to write next, experimenting with writing the book out of order.

So far, it’s worked out pretty well. The outline gives me all of the plot points and character arcs that need to be worked out, so I can treat each scene as a sort of mini-story, which helps to eat the proverbial elephant. (How do you eat an elephant? One bite at a time.) Also, my ADHD-addled brain really loves the creative freedom of being able to pick and choose what to work on next, ignoring whether it has anything to do with what I wrote yesterday.

Of course, this means that the revisions will have to wait until all the holes in the narrative have been filled. I may be able to do it on a chapter-by-chapter basis, with the first revision happening once all the scenes in a chapter are done, and the next revision focused on fitting the chapters together, but I don’t know. It may just be better to put off the revisions altogether until the entire rough draft is complete.

Then again, there are advantages to cycling through the manuscript during the drafting process. It can help to identify plot and story problems as they emerge, which can help to remove writing blocks before they become really onerous. Also, it leaves me with a lot less work to get to the final version, once the initial manuscript is complete.

So here’s how I think I’m going to do it:

  • Prewriting: Develop a rigorous outline that includes a scene-by-scene map with all important plot points and character/relationship arcs.
  • Rough Draft: Pick and choose which scenes to write, focusing on hitting the plot/character/relationship points and making each scene cohesive.
  • First Revision: Fix all the points in the revision notes (such as things that need to be foreshadowed) and focus on making each chapter cohesive.
  • Second Revision: Fix any remaining revision notes and focus on overall story and chapter flow.
  • Final Revision: Focus on the sentence and paragraph level writing to cut the book’s word count by at least 10%.

So maybe I’ll do the first revision in-line with the rough draft, as each chapter comes together. Unless the book has major problems, the second revision should be pretty straightforward and not take longer than a week or two—besides, it should probably wait until the first draft is totally done, since that’s the time to work on overall story flow. And the final revision can go in-line with that.

I don’t know if any of that makes any sense to anyone but me. Thinking out loud does help to put my thoughts together, though I’m not sure how much it makes for good internet content. Still, I’m curious if anyone has any thoughts on the subject. Have you tried out something similar? Or does the very thought of writing like this feel like scraping nails on a chalkboard? Let me know! I’m curious to hear your take on it.

NaNoWriMo 2020 Day Twenty-One

  • Words written: 1,763
  • Total words written: 30,853
  • Stories written: 6
  • Total words behind: 4,147

I’ve been hitting a lot of resistance whenever I try to write a story that’s inspired by drawing Mythulu cards. I suspect that’s because my subconscious mind hasn’t had that much time to work on the story, so the first creation is happening largely when I put words on the page. I used to consider myself a discovery writer, but now I think that my writing is a lot better when I take the time to prewrite—and yes, that includes outlining.

Still, I really like where this story is going. I think it’s going to be a good one.

Now I have the perfect ending

Guys, I just plotted out the last two books in the Genesis Earth trilogy, and it is going to have the most fantastic ending ever. I can’t tell you anything about it, since that would spoil everything, but it’s going to be amazing.

Perhaps it wasn’t such a bad idea to wait ten years to write the next book after all. I’m still loosely following the original outline I made for Edenfall, but there are some key changes to it, and all the other background stuff I’m sure I would have done differently. Sometimes, it really does help to put some distance between you and the story, and to let it simmer for a long, long time.

In any case, I know what I need to do now to turn Genesis Earth into a proper trilogy. Also, I’ll probably go through the first book at some point to remove all the swearing. It’s far too jarring and doesn’t really add anything to the story. At the time I wrote it, I was itching to write a grittier book, but that’s not Genesis Earth.

Edenfall is going to be good, but The Stars of Redemption is going to be amazing! The secondary plot with the third timeline is going to blow your mind. I can hardly wait to write it!

My New Writing Process (or why I don’t believe in pantsing anymore)

For the longest time, I thought I was a “discovery writer.” That is to say, I believed there were two kinds of writers—pantsers vs. plotters—and that I was very much a pantser. It was what I was comfortable with. It was what I defaulted to when I sat down to write. It was the style of writing that for me, produced the best books.

Or so I thought.

Ten years later, I come to a realization: my writing process needs work. In order to keep writing at a professional level, I need to produce more books, and to do that, I need to write cleaner first drafts. Discovery writing was great for short stories or novellas, but my novels always seemed to hit a block somewhere in the messy middle. If I want to put out a new book each month, that’s not something I can afford.

Around this time, I read The Seven Habits of Highly Effective People. The second habit, “begin with the end in mind,” challenged everything I thought I knew about writing. According to Stephen Covey, everything is created twice: first in the mind, then in reality. To achieve maximum effectiveness in your work, make sure you have a clear plan.

“But wait!” I said. “I’m a pantser—a discovery writer. I don’t do outlines. That’s for plotters.”

And then I thought about it.

What if the whole “pantser vs. plotter” dichotomy is wrong? What if you have to master both skills to really be a masterful writer? Sure, there are plenty of successful writers who never do, but would they be more effective if they did?

What if it’s a bit like talent? People believe that you need talent to be successful, when in reality, talent is just a starting point. A writer who works hard to improve their craft will always overtake a talented writer who doesn’t. And yet, this myth of talent persists, mainly because people can’t see (or don’t want to see) all the hard work that goes alongside it.

This is the conclusion I’ve come to: that when it comes to professional writing, there are no “pantsers” or “plotters.” There are only different forms of outlining. It may be as simple as a one-paragraph sketch, or it may be as complex as a two-hundred page story bible. There are as many outlining methods as there are writers, and many writers tweak their methods with each book in an effort to improve their process.

“Discovery writing” was what came easy to me, but to achieve my full potential, I had to embrace the stuff that was hard. And that meant learning to make an effective outline.

The Old Writing Process

Here’s how I used to write a book:

I’d get a bunch of ideas and do nothing with them. Nothing at all. I told myself I was just letting them stew in the back of my mind, but really it was just an excuse to not do any outlining.

Eventually, the muse would hit me over the head, and an idea would become so compelling that I couldn’t not write about it. At this point, I’d come up with an opening scene and a premise for the rest of the book. I’d also have a vague idea of how the story was going to end, but I wouldn’t pursue it at all, for fear that too much planning would “ruin” it.

All of the other ideas would start to come together, but without an outline to show how they were all connected, I would lose sight of it almost immediately. After writing the first couple of chapters, I soon found myself in the thick of the forest, with only the vaguest idea of where I was going. Soon, I’d lose sight of the forest for the trees. I’d hit a block and try to push my way through, only to find that I was lost.

At this point, I’d set the unfinished WIP aside for a few months, to approach it with “fresh eyes.” It was basically a failed draft. When I felt ready to pick it up again, I would start all over from the beginning, recycling all the stuff that seemed to work and cutting out the stuff that didn’t.

If things went well, I’d push through that block and write the next few chapters… until I came to another block, and had to set it aside again.

If things did not go well, I’d hit the same block only to find that I couldn’t push through it. Something was broken that was fundamental to the story itself. If I was lucky, I’d catch onto that fact soon enough not to lose too much writing time. But more often than not, I’d spent weeks and months agonizing over it, and beating myself up for being a horrible writer.

This would go on for years. My pile of unfinished WIPs grew increasingly larger as I bounced from one failed draft to the next. Usually on the third or fourth attempt, though, I’d push all the way to the ending—not quite the ending I first had in mind, but one that still worked. Kind of sort of.

Then came the revisions.

I’d set the book aside again, usually for a few months. When I was confident I could approach it with “fresh eyes,” I’d pick it up again, only to realize that it suuuuuucked. A little bit angry with myself for writing such a crappy book, I’d go at it with an axe. Characters, subplots, and chapters would all get cut out.

After mauling my WIP to pieces, I’d stitch it back together, usually with the scenes in different order. Then I’d set it aside for a few months again. Rinse and repeat.

Eventually, it would reach a point where it didn’t suck. The ideas would finally come together in some approximation of the way I’d originally envisioned—or would have envisioned, if I’d made the effort beforehand to do so. I’d send it out to my beleagured beta readers (some of whom I’d dragged through multiple drafts), make a few final tweaks, and then start the publication process.

By now, several months would have passed since I’d published anything. If I was lucky, I’d get a couple dozen preorders and sell a few dozen more in the first month. If not, I’d release it to a chorus of crickets.

The New Writing Process

Anything worth creating is worth creating twice.

The first creation starts with a rough outline of the plot. According to Dramatica theory, a complete plot has four throughlines:

  • The Objective Throughline is the basic overview; the general’s view. It’s what you tell people when they ask “what’s your story about?”
  • The Main Character Throughline is the story as experienced by the primary character through whom the readers insert themselves into the story—basically, the character that all the kids fight to be. “I’m Belle!” No, I’m Belle!” “No, you can be Gaston.” “But I don’t want to be Gaston!”
  • The Impact Character Throughline is the story as experienced by the foil or counterpoint to the main character, who creates most of the tension that drives the story forward. “Fine, then, you can be the Beast.” “Okay, but next time, I get to be Belle!”
  • The Relationship Throughline is like the objective throughline, but focused on just the relationship between the main character and the impact character. As both characters change and grow, the best way to show that is often through the changes in their relationship.

Once I’ve figured out the throughlines, I match them up in a spreadsheet to form chapters. Each chapter breaks down into three or more scenes, which serve to advance the throughlines. The scenes also work together to create a beginning, middle, and end for each chapter.

At this point, with the main plot of the book fully outlined, I start to add subplots. These can be romantic, tragic, or just an opportunity for one of the minor characters to shine. I may also add a background storyline with stuff going on behind the scenes that never makes the page, just to keep track of what’s going on.

Where the plot points for the throughlines correspond to whole chapters, the plot points for the subplots correspond to the scene level. A subplot may start or end in the middle of the book, or lay dormant for several chapters. I try to make each scene do double-duty, but add new ones as necessary.

For each of the major characters, I also write up a character sheet. This lists all of the specific details that tend to get mixed up in a rough draft, like hair color, eye color, height, weight, etc. It also gives me a chance to do a deep dive into who this character is and what makes them tick. Besides things like religion, education, occupation level, etc, I also include things like family relations, backstory, strengths and weaknesses, handicaps, etc.

Beyond that, I may draw up a sheet for conflict alignments, or to list all the story tropes that I want to include in the story. It really depends on the book.

Lately, I’ve been experimenting with a process for revising my WIP as I’m drafting it. I keep a sheet for revision notes and color each scene and plot point for which draft phase it’s currently in: red for first draft, yellow for first revision pass, green for second revision pass, and black for final draft.

After fixing all the major issues, usually on the first or second pass, I set a goal to cut 10% of the words in the scene. Usually I end up cutting closer to 20%. This improves the quality of the writing and helps to make it much tighter.

I’m still experimenting a lot with my outlining techniques, trying out new things and refining the things I’ve previously tried. A year from now, I’m sure it will look much different. But the two major parts that do work quite well are the plot outline and the character sheets. Everything else builds on top of that.

And the really cool part is that it actually works. From June to August, I started a full-time job, moved twice, and experienced a family emergency, and I still managed to finish a novel through all of that, largely thanks to this outline. No writing blocks. No failed drafts. Just 600 words a day, no matter what else was going on, and by the end of it, I had a publishable novel.

I think this book will help me to write longer books, too. That’s what I’m working on next. If all goes according to plan, Queen of the Falconstar will be my longest book yet—not by very much, but still a good 10k words longer than Bringing Stella Home, which is currently my longest book. The things I’m learning now will help me to write more epic fantasy, like the next two books in the Twelfth Sword Trilogy. That’s the goal at least.

If there’s nothing else I’d like you to take from this post, it’s this: don’t be afraid to try new things. Don’t put yourself into a corner by saying things like “I’m a discover writer,” or “I’m not really an outliner.” Try it! You learn a lot more from your failures than you do from you successes.

End of summer update

It’s been a couple of months since I wrote a blog post that wasn’t just a new release, or a bunch of book promos. Life got a little bit insane for a while, and I neglected the blog to take care of other things.

Life is still pretty crazy, but it’s starting to fall into more of a routine. Thankfully, even though I dropped the blog for a while, I’m still writing—in fact, I’m writing more than ever. A couple of weeks ago, I wrote the first draft of Gunslinger to the Galaxy, and I should be finishing up with the revisions in the next couple of days.

Also, I started work on Queen of the Falconstar, a bridge novel between Sons of the Starfarers and Gaia Nova. This is my first real attempt at making a detailed outline, and if the outline turns out to be true, it will be my longest novel yet. The deadline is February 2nd, 2019, and I hope to do three revision passes as I write it.

It’s all very organized, which is a relatively new thing for me, since I always used to think of myself as a “pantser” or “discovery writer.” But my opinions on that whole paradigm have changed, which will soon be the subject of a lengthy blog post.

I also ran my first BookBub promotion last week, with some pretty incredible results. I definitely hope to do some more promotions with them in the future. Retooling things to make that possible.

So that’s what I’ve been up to. I’ve got a new release scheduled for every month from now to December 2019, with all-new full-length novels to come out every four months for the forseeable future. My writing schedule is booked from now to May 2020. Again, it’s all very organized, and that organization is starting to bear fruit. Now I just need to make more time to read, seeing as I have a tendency to acquire books faster than I can read them. Also, it would be fun to post some book reviews.

Why writing every day may not be the best advice

When I started writing back in college, the prevailing advice was to write every day. And to be fair, at the time, that was very good advice. I was just getting started on my writing career and had a lot of learning to do. My writing improved by leaps and bounds as I strived to make progress on my WIPs every day.

Now, though, I’m not so sure that writing every day is the best thing to strive for.

It’s not that I’m against the idea of practice. Writing is one of those rare creative professions where people don’t think you get better the more you do it. Of course, that’s flat-out wrong. The best musicians put in hours and hours of practice, as do the best chess players, or the best soldiers, or the best sports stars. Writing is no different. If you don’t put in the time and effort, you won’t get the results.

At the same time, there’s a tendency among aspiring and even journeyman writers to become consumed with guilt because they missed their writing goal for the day. This is counterproductive. Goals don’t exist to give you satisfaction or guilt, but to give you direction. Satisfaction comes from what you achieve in pursuit of a goal, not in the goal itself.

So that’s one aspect of it. But there’s another aspect, and that’s how effective it is (or isn’t) to write every day.

Between high school and college, I worked as a gofer on a masonry crew. One of the things my boss used to say was “work smarter, not harder.” He often said it rather tongue-in-cheek, but it’s still an important concept. It doesn’t matter how hard you work if you’re doing it wrong.

This applies to writing as well. What does it matter that you write every day, if you’re just going to throw out most of it anyway? Is that really the best use of your time and energy? If by taking a week to establish things like plot, character, world-building, etc, you could write a much cleaner and better first draft, does it matter that you technically weren’t writing every day during that week?

Write smarter, not harder.

Now, I’m very glad that I did write every day back when I was starting out. My first (and possibly my second) million words were mostly crap, so it was better to put in the time and get through it as quickly as possible, just for the learning and growth.

But now that I’m an established journeyman writer, I find that the results are much better if I take the time to do some basic prewriting before I attack the first page. My first drafts are cleaner. The story comes together easier, with fewer problems. I don’t have to do “triage” revisions, where I’m throwing out characters, subplots, or even major plot points simply because they don’t work.

In Brandon Sanderson’s writing class, I once asked what I needed to change so that I could write my WIPs straight through without getting stuck in the middle. Brandon asked me if I was still finishing them, and when I said yes, he basically said don’t worry about it. That was good advice then, but it isn’t anymore. I’ve reached the point where writing smarter is more important than writing harder.

Anyway, those are my thoughts at the moment. Things change a lot when you’ve been writing for 10+ years, and unlike all the resources available for aspiring writers, there isn’t a whole lot of stuff out there to help guide you through the later phases. I’m basically figuring it out as I go.