Wait, How Many Drafts Do I Have to Write? Part 2

Or, yup. It really takes that long. (And a sneak preview of things to come!)

Hi friends!

I had the best of intentions for getting this out to you last week, but here we are instead. Happy Thursday, and happy February.

First, I just had a celebratory tea with the lovely Lindsey Cormack. Her book How to Raise a Citizen will be published this summer and absolutely everyone should read it, especially those of us who struggle to explain this political moment to the kids in our lives. I’ll let you know when it’s available to pre-order, and it’s just so lovely to know that y’all are out there setting the world on fire (in a good way).

Wait, how many times do you want me to re-write this thing?

Last week, I wrote about beginnings, and making the decision that you want to write a book. I was talking recently to a lovely new client about her book idea. As we were chatting through logistics she paused and said…”so, wait. How many drafts do I have to write?” And it was such a great question that I had no good answer to. This post is about what happens once that decision to write is made, and you’re left wondering “what’s next?”

This is my beautiful 2024 notebook (LEUCHTTURM1917, hardback, dotted) that contains the germ of about seven million ideas. Once I decide that one of those ideas needs to exist in the world as a book, how long does it take? It depends!

Prelude: Gardener or Architect?

The most important question that will guide how you approach book writing is whether you are an architect or a gardener. Sometimes I talk with people who have the entire book outlined from top to bottom. They are architects: they think of the structure of the book first, and then start filling in the bones. The planning process, for them, takes a very long time, but then the writing is simply a matter of execution.

Other times, I talk to people with a vision. They are the gardeners, for whom the process of writing is a discovery. They will rewrite, often many times, because they learn through the process of thinking.

Architects will perhaps write three to five drafts, somewhat methodically, and often quite painstakingly. The gardener may write ten drafts (it’s me, hi. I’m the gardener, it’s me), each one of them steering in a slightly different direction as they chisel away at figuring out what the hell the book is actually about.

Having worked on dozens of books over the past few years, with architects and gardeners, I actually don’t think one method is quicker than another, and I think both produce amazing books. The trick is to lean into your inner gardener or architect, and then strategize how they’ll navigate the three acts of writing a book.

Act One: The Macrolevel

The “Blah Blah Blah.” Here is where you get all of the stuff floating around in your head on to paper. You write, as Stephen King says, with that door slammed shut. Some people call this the vomit draft, draft zero, the (very) rough draft, the shitty first draft, and all of those are great because they convey the idea that it’s just for you.

I also think that this is the draft that a lot of us tend to skip or skimp, because so many of our books are cannibalized from dissertations and articles. So your efficiency brain tells you that if you just “rewrite” or “recast,” it’ll be easier! My friend, I am here to tell you nothing’s easy about writing a book, but you need to start with a blank page. The “why is this a book, why does the book need to exist now, why are you the person to write it” needs to be new.

The outline. You need an outline/chapter structure for the book. Fill in the outline as much as you can. Ask yourself questions, like whether the sequence of chapters makes sense and if they’re all related to the main argument. You know, what you teach your students and is so much harder to do for yourself (but that’s a new post).

The conversation. Now, you can go back to that dissertation draft, those articles, the lit review you wrote back in the day, the conference paper that never went anywhere. Start slotting things into that outline. When you’re done, plug all of the “blah blah blah” writing into that outline too.

What do you think? Does it look like a book? No? Ugh. Fine. Let’s keep working.

End of Act One: Gut Check Intermission.

Okay, so. Now you’re going to need to do some real work. In a perfect world, your chapters should be the same length, plus or minus 10 percent. Are yours? Maybe your outline just doesn’t work and needs to be rejiggered. Maybe your outline does work, but all of the material you’ve already generated only fills out parts of it. If that’s the case, the question is: can you revise the outline, or do you need new material? Probably, the answer is a little bit of both.

Before you can move on to a new draft, you need to fill in what’s missing. Collect more data, read more literature, think through theory. Then, go back to the outline and see if it all fits together again. If it doesn’t, repeat these stages. If it does, then…

Start Act Two: The Mezzo-level.

Chapters! Now that you have the structure of the book looking beautiful, it’s time to write some chapters. This draft takes a long time, because you’re trying to make the chapters more-or-less parallel, having them tell a story, having them advance the argument—it’s hard! And you’re constantly asking yourself: is this two chapters? is there enough here for a chapter? Why am I doing this anyway? Isn’t it easier to just write blog posts? Probably!

Story time. Now, read the entire book, paying attention just to the intro and conclusion of each chapter. Make them mirror each other. What stories are you weaving through the book? How are the chapters connected by argument?

End of Act II: Revision Intermission

Once you’re done, now you need to assess again. Ask yourself these questions: Is one chapter absurdly long or short? Is the chapter making one, and only one, argument? Does the book read like a series of articles, or does it read like it’s one piece moving toward a complex intervention? Often times this process brings up questions about whether you need to create a history/theory/staging chapter, or if those can be at the beginning of chapters or in the intro. So many questions!

At this stage, you may need to reverse outline the whole thing or hire a developmental editor. That’s okay! We love reading books at this stage! Send it to us, let us read.

Also this is a great time to ask a friend to read the draft and give you some feedback on the ideas of the piece.

It’s difficult to know at this point how many times you’ll revise the manuscript as a whole, or the individual chapters. Maybe a lot! But the important thing is to make sure that the structure, arguments, and ideas are all hanging together. Once they are, then we move on to…

Act III: Micro Level

Lines, lines, everywhere lines. You have a book! It’s pretty good! But know that voice that’s been like “ew, David” every time you write a sentence? It’s her turn! (What, Alexis Rose isn’t everyone’s inner editor? Huh). Line/style editing is about making sure the paragraph and sentence level of the book hang together and sound like you. If you hate this, hire a stylistic editor! They can help! Really! This may also bring up things you want to do to the book from Act I and Act II, so keep revising, if you need to, until you get it right.

Mechanics. This is proofreading. Probably the only thing that writers can’t do for themselves is proofreading. If you’re lucky, your publisher will pay for it. Otherwise, hire someone! It is worth your aunt not calling you and being like “so, I noticed you’re talking about pubic opinion on page 12, and that’s very surprising!”

And that’s it. That’s how you write a book (plus research and finding a publisher and indexing and all that good stuff).

Announcement time!

Let’s Write…A Book. So, after all of this, do you want to write a book? Let’s do it together. From May 2024-May 2025, you can be part of the inaugural Epilogue Editing book writing cohort where you can take your book from idea (or early/stalled draft) to done. We’ll have quarterly craft/writing workshops, monthly ask me anythings/office hours, weekly co-writing sessions, a Slack accountability group, and I’ll read what you write and tell you how great you’re doing. I’ll have more information and an application available soon, but feel free to reach out ahead of time with any questions.

AprWriMo! In the meantime, if you’re looking for some end-of-semester accountability and camaraderie, sign up for our free AprWriMo, where we’ll write together every day from April 15-April 30, have a full-day minimalist writing retreat on April 19, and then take a break. What do you have to lose, friends? Sign up here. It’ll be great, I promise.

…a little more housekeeping.

Writing Retreats: Know where it’s not snowing and covered in ice? Mexico City. Our Mexico City retreat is almost completely full! It will be held May 20-25, 2024. We’ll be closing applications in early February. Start your summer with Mirya Holman and me in Mexico City, blocks away from Frida Kahlo’s house, getting all of the words written. Apply here.

Editing: I have room to edit new books starting in late April and this summer. August and September are filling up, so if you are the type who plans ahead, now is a great time to pencil in a spot for the end of the year. I have more availability for articles, grants, job materials, and things like that, and the sooner you tell me the more likely it is I can guarantee you the turnaround you need.

Coaching: I have no more spots for long-term consulting relationships this spring or summer, though I can schedule individual meetings here and there (if you want to talk about an R and R or your book proposal, we can find time to make that happen!). Again, if you’re the planning type (I see you architects!), now is a great time for us to touch base about coaching this fall.