The first book I wrote was when I was 12 or 13. I filled a single subject notebook, front to back with my chicken-scratch handwriting. That notebook is long lost at this point, but it is interesting to note that I didn’t try to write another book for more than 25 years.
This go-around however, I had to figure out what worked for me. I had a handful of false starts, in 2013 or so, where I got bogged down in the minutiae of editing before I had even written the story. I didn’t start writing Harvest of Ruin in earnest until late November/early December of 2015. I knew I had to get the story out and it became a single-minded passion. About 15,000 words in and I knew it was going to be multiple books, two at first, then finally three.
By the time spring rolled around I had the first two written, in draft form. I revised and edited book 1+2 in the spring and fall of 2016 and wrote the third book as soon as the weather turned towards winter again.
Then came the months of hell that was querying, revisions and editing. As I write this, I am still a month off of being finished with the final? revision of book 2 and, although book 3 is cut into book form, it is still only a draft as far as the revisions I’ve done to it.
The shame is that once I realized that I could write novels the ideas keep streaming in. I’ve got 4-5 more projects brewing anywhere from being a sketch of a story to 20,000 words written, but so little time to work on them.