Perhaps you've read about it before, when I gave instructions on How to Write. As exhaustive and sincere as those directions were, here's the thing:
My method is not your method.
Heck, most of the time my method isn't even my method.
With that in mind, read this for the sake of interest only (unless you've already lost interest, in which case go find something shiny to look at. Or a pony. But please no lolcatz, because those really give me the creeps). Don't ask me how to write, because you shouldn't write like I do. And you should probably be glad for that fact.
Here's how it used to work. "Tra la la. My son is napping and I don't know what I'm going to write about. Oh, look, an idea. I'll just write the first scene."
Three sleep-deprived and bordering-on-certifiable weeks later: "LOOK. I HAVE A BOOK."
There was no method other than obsession, living in the story, spinning it out constantly with every spare thought and even some thoughts that weren't so spare and really should have been focusing on the tasks at hand like getting off the correct exit on the freeway. This, of course, left me with quite a bit of fine tuning to do during revision--my revising time on PARANORMALCY was a solid three months, versus the three weeks the first draft took me.
And that was that--a mad-dash-obsessive first draft, after which I read and reread (I usually do between six and ten run-throughs) and analyzed and workshopped and spit polished, but the basic storyline and major scenes remained pretty much entirely intact.
Writing the sequel to PARANORMALCY was very different. A lot more challenging, a lot more wrestling with the story and my motivation, and a lot heavier revision (I added seventeen thousand words. Thousand. Seventeen. It was a long winter...).
Lately, however, my process seems to be this: "The kids are finally in bed and I should write. Look, there's my bed."
Three weeks later: "I should probably write. Look, there's my bed."
Three weeks later: "I should really write. Look, there's my bed."
And that's how it works with me. I have very creative, intense times where I produce a massive amount of work that I can then take my time tinkering with, and I have tired, worn-out times when any creativity is sucked dry in taking care of my day-to-day stuff.
I'm okay with this. I write every day (obviously you know this if you are reading my blog), I always meet concrete deadlines, and if I'm not actively creating, well, I will again soon.
Hey, look! There's my bed.
Other, probably more helpful, posts:
Tawna Fenske (my agency sister and why I did this even though I don't usually agree to do linked posts--yes, it IS nepotism, sorry)
Sean Ferrell (he outcrazies me by about infinite)
What about you? Is there method in your madness, or just madness in your method? Or, like me, a whole lot of madness and really no method to speak of?