Finding My Way to The End

By John Gilstrap

Earlier this week, I got to type my two favorite words: "the" and "end."  Truthfully, neither of the words does much for me individually, but taken in context (and in order) at bottom of a 415-page manuscript, they bear a sweet message.  It means that Damage Control, the fourth book in the Jonathan Grave series, is finally finished--at least until such time as my editor sends me the Dreaded Letter.  In the meantime, I need to submit an outline and first chapter for my next book, which I'm currently calling Untitled Grave Five. Yeah, I know, the title needs work, but I need to deliver that finished manuscript to my publisher next September 15, after which I will need to deliver an outline and first chapter for Untitled Grave Six by next October 15.

Somehow, between now and November 15, I also need to write a short story for an anthology while traveling pretty much nonstop for my Big Boy job.  It will all get done.  I'm not entirely sure how, but it will all get done.  I know this because somehow it always gets done.

Here's the thing, though: Unlike the consensus reached after Nancy Cohen's post the other day that most of my Killzone colleagues think continually about their writing, I find not-writing to be the easiest thing in the world to do.  I consider myself to be an observer of people and something of a dialogue sponge when folks say interesting things, but it's rare that I think that something in life would make a good story, or that fascinating surroundings would make a good scene.  At least I never think it real-time.

Generally, I think about writing when I sit down to write.  Take this blog post, for example--take most of my blog posts, in fact.  It's Thursday night, which means it's time to write something.  This is what occurred to me.  Next week, I'm pretty sure that's how it will happen again.

The short story I owe will be based on a photograph.  I chose the photo because it's strange, and as of this moment, I have no idea what narrative I'm going to tie to it.  Next weekend, though--which is the start date I've assigned to myself for the short story--I have every confidence that when I sit down to write, the story will be there waiting for me.  I'll employ no tricks or gimmicks or exercises; I'll just start to write.  Three, four, or ten drafts later, it will be done.  I just don't know how.

The lack of predictability in my creative process scares the bejeebers out of me.  Unlike so many other authors I speak to, I don't have a file of potential ideas, or biographical sketches of future characters.  I wish I did, and I admire those who do.  Nine books into my career, with #11 and #12 under contract, none of this ever gets easier for me, even though I tell myself that I'm getting better at it.

One thing that has changed, though, is that I've learned to accept my process for what it is.  It's my way, it works for me.  I think that my ability to turn the fiction spigot on and off is what allows be to have both a book deadline and a stressful Big Boy job.  Certainly, it helps.  One thing I know for sure, though, is that the more I try to make it easier on myself, the harder it all becomes. 

So what about you?  Are you content with your creative process, or are you fighting to change things?