Mike Nappa’s 77 REASONS WHY YOUR BOOK WAS REJECTED {and how to make sure it won’t happen again!} is such a book, an excellent resource for both nonfiction and fiction writers wanting to become and stay published by royalty (traditional) publishers. This one book contains truths and wisdom that many of us writers take years to gather and realize on our own.

In addition to having held a variety of jobs within the publishing industry that contributed to his broad range of knowledge, Mike Nappa is also a professional writer (evidenced by this book), suffering the rejections and enjoying the successes of being traditionally published.  He relates experiences from both sides of this business, the writing and the publishing of his work.

At my first reading, I thought most of the reasons applied mostly to nonfiction writers, with his constant references to proposals (of which I’ve written several, all for nonfiction projects).  However, with a detailed analysis to track the number of the reasons actually applicable to fiction writers, I realized that most could, with a sideways look, also apply to them.  Fiction writers do, after all, work with agents and editors who fight with their spouses, kick their dogs, and then reject perfectly good manuscripts. So, regardless of your primary writing focus, read the entire book and use the information as it best fits your situation.

This book is packed with practical, positive information, as well as sometimes difficult-to-read truths. If you want to join the bulging ranks of hopeful authors, armed with warnings (the reasons for rejection) and action steps to overcome these reasons, then use the book’s advice on your submission package.

He does touch upon self-publishing (often negatively), so if that is your chosen publishing route, don’t bother with this book.  It would just annoy you to tears.

Each chapter contains one reason for rejection with an explanation.  The chapter also includes three action steps to counteract or at least address that reason.  Some of his action steps cheat and refer the reader back to previous reasons, while most offer truly helpful suggestions for action.  And some, usually included in those discouraging chapters, simply say, “Hey, that’s reality.  Live with it or get out of the business.”  Not really an action step, but it is honest.

I must admit that several times I did become so discouraged that I put the book down because the reasons block the writer in ways that the writer cannot combat or control.  But then some of the action steps helped relieve that discouragement, at least a little.

When I grew too discouraged, I’d put the book down and focus on something else, or just plow through, being stubborn about not quitting.  Then I’d come across a reason that was written for me with action steps I thought that I might actually be able to implement, so my discouragement faded, until the next time.

Nappa does address this discouragement problem in his last chapter, as an epilogue.  He acknowledges the book’s tendency to discourage and then offers his explanation: “You see, if I can talk you out of pursuing a writing career, then you don’t belong in publishing, so it’s good that you quit now” (pg. 352).  Actually, I agree with this explanation.  Writing is a tough job and only the really passionate people who MUST write should actually pursue this “dirty little business” (pg. 352), as Nappa calls it.

If you can’t NOT write (double negative intended) … if NOT writing drives you crazy … then you have to write.  But if you have other life options just as fulfilling, pursue those and forget writing as a career.  It’ll be a part time effort for many years anyway, if not forever, so you might as well find something else to fill your time, one that will actually provide an income and personal satisfaction.

Nappa’s book also offers references within the chapters and an appendix of materials useful in pursuing the craft and in keeping up with the publishing business.  The one problem that I found (understandable in this age of e-readers) is that it does not include an index, which would be helpful for jumping to the right reason at the moment.

I highly recommend Mike Nappa’s 77 REASONS WHY YOUR BOOK WAS REJECTED {and how to make sure it won’t happen again!} and hope it provides you with the information you need to decide your fate as a writer.

Disclosure: I received a review copy of this book, unsolicited.  Having found the book useful to writers, I produced this review. However, if the book had been crap, I wouldn’t have written a review of it.  My opinions are honest and straightforward and not based on receiving free copies of books.

Part of this review was published on Amazon.com’s review section of Nappa’s book on 9/6/11.

I use “niggling doubt” (my term) to refer to that quiet whisper I occasionally hear that says something is really wrong with a piece of writing I’m working on, something fairly big.  It’s not that I don’t hear the little voice saying, “No, this is not right.  You need to take care of this problem.”  I just tend to ignore it because I know that if I actually confront the niggling doubt, I will be in for a lot more work, usually throwing away huge quantities of “finished” writing.

I’m not talking about the “Critic-on-Your-Shoulder” voice that edits every word written, especially during drafting.  That voice is distinctive, and I’ve learned to ignore it during drafting and pay attention during revision and editing.

And I’m not talking about those little issues that pop up all the time, such as, “Maybe you should add a definition to that word,” or “Think of a visual to illustrate that point.”

No, my niggling doubts are about larger issues of the writing, specifically, the ways in which the ideas are developed or organized.  In my case — and this has happened at least twice in my writing career — the niggling doubts concern major structural issues of a book I’m working on.  The doubt usually whispers that the material should be organized in a much better way.  And I ignore the whisper for as long as possible, until it is loud enough that I can no longer ignore it.

Luckily, when I realize the niggling doubt is right, I also am presented with a different, and much better, way of organizing the material.  I then stop my forward progress (usually I think I’m about finished with the book), go back, and completely revamp the organization of the materials.

I start by jotting down the vision of the new organization, then tackle a redo of the Table of Contents.  Once I’m happy with that, I implement the changes by moving the materials around.  If the reorganization is actually only moderately horrendous, I move chunks of text around in a new version of the existing text, Version 2 (or whatever version I’m on at the time).  If the reorganization is major, moving large and small chunks of text, I’ll actually create a new computer file, create a new version of the old file (with the “save as” command), and cut and paste chunks from the old version into the new file, according to the new Table of Contents.  When I have stuff left over, I evaluate whether it should remain in the book or not.  That’s why cutting is so much better than copying.

When that is done, I give myself a breather — I simmer the project — returning to read through the new version and starting revisions again, since references to previous information are out of sequence, along with other content that needs to be changed.  I continue forward until the book is done.  Usually, I have no more niggling doubts about the project.

A CASE HISTORY

I am currently working on Time Travel Workbook for Fiction Writers, which I thought was nearly done last week.  Then the volume of those niggling doubts increased enough that I had to pay attention.  And what do you know?  I had to completely reorganize the workbook, mainly to eliminate duplicated content and to bring related ideas together.

Let me start at the beginning:

Back in 1991, I published a small booklet called Fictional Devices: Time Travel Methods. It was an 8 to 10 page, single spaced, tightly packed (read: poorly designed) booklet, 5.5 x 8.5, saddle stitched, which I printed and mailed out to customers who responded to my personal classified ad.  That was pre-Internet, folks, and that’s all I could afford.  I sold a bunch of these through the bookstore at Romantic Times Magazine among other places, but eventually sales dried up, and the little booklet went out of print.  I put the booklet and my dreams of fame and fortune away and went on to other projects for writers.

In 2006 (15 years later), I decided to resurrect the little booklet and see if the material was still relevant for fiction writers.  It was, so I rewrote and greatly expanded the content, making it a book: Time Travel for Fiction Writers. I tried to sell it on e-Bay (on advice of some ‘guru’ who had no idea what he was talking about), sold zero copies, gave up, and put the book away.

On January 1, 2010, I decided to get serious about my writing and self-publishing, after 30 years of on and off effort but very little success or money.  I unparked my domain name of my publishing company, Quilliful Publications, (parked for more than two years) and started building my website, developing lists of materials I wanted to write and publish, and all the other activities necessary to start a business.  To my list of “Publications to Revise and Publish” I added my time travel book, to be written eventually.

In May 2010, I had just finished writing an editing workbook (I like writing instructional materials), and so workbooks were on the brain when I picked up the time travel stuff..  It was next on the list.  I reviewed the old copies and the computer files and saw that they could definitely be expanded, but I liked the organization: guidelines, questions to prompt ideas, and possibilities/ideas to use in story development.  With this organization, the guidelines and questions discussed the same topics, for the most part, so almost immediately those niggling doubts started whispering (“You already said that, but where?”).  Naturally, I ignored the whispers and decided I could make the materials much more useful to my readers if I added exercises and worksheets, thus making it a workbook.

So I started revising and adding and changing but kept the same organizational structure because that was the way it had always been organized, since that first version back 1991.

I was literally doing the final read-through of the manuscript, making sure the content was consistent and complete when those niggling doubts shouted in my ear, “STOP! YOU HAVE TO REORGANIZE THIS MESS.  AND THERE IS TOO MUCH DUPLICATION.”

My weak, pathetic reply was, “But I’m almost done” (suppressed sniffle).

So I took a deep breath, went back to the Table of Contents and started over again.

Once I had the new Table of Contents done, I realized my niggling doubts were right.  I love the new organization, and although the reorganization took an additional week or more to implement, the workbook is much better for the change.  I actually found topics that had no questions associated with them, so I added them, completing the manuscript.

Time Travel Workbook for Fiction Writers would have been okay — only just okay — if I had ignored the niggling doubts, but now, with the new reorganization, it is much better and less confusing.  I am happy I finally listened to my niggling doubts for this workbook.

ADVICE ABOUT DEALING WITH YOUR NIGGLING DOUBTS

Listen to those whispers and as soon as the complaints become associated with an action impulse, heed their call and take action.  Make those changes to your manuscript.

Let me explain: sometimes I get a headache.  It’s not horrible, just annoying.  The thought that I have a headache, however, doesn’t jump that chasm to the next point, that of action.  Eventually, when the headache passes annoying and into painful, then the thought is, “Get up and take some Tylenol.”  As I’m taking the Tylenol, I ask myself why I didn’t do this hours ago, but the impulse hadn’t moved from thought to action.

The same happens with these niggling doubts.  You usually hear the whispers but don’t take action because the “pain” is only annoying and not yet really painful.

Do so before you put in so much work that heeding the doubt means a huge effort to rectify the problem.

If you are working with a tight deadline, such as publisher’s contract due date, and you simply don’t have time to make the changes, you can decide not to change the manuscript.  But at least you have listened to the niggling doubts, and you know that if you had time, you could make it better.

Of course, if you are self-publishing, chances are you do have the time, so you should make those changes.

Remember, your goal is to make your book the best possible for your readers.  If making those changes will make the book better, than it is your duty to make those changes.

Originally published online at Wordpreneur.com

I have been writing and publishing for many years, and yet I recently found myself in this exact situation with an article I wrote a few years ago that I was revising for publication.  And I rediscovered the technique and process that I will describe here.  It may sound obvious, but I felt astounded that the technique worked so well for the problem.

If you’d like to see the revised version of that blog post, Writing is like a Muscle, go to http://katieploeger.com/category/writing-is-series/page/10/.

HERE’S THE PROCESS OF REORGANIZING THE MESS

1. Read through your mess in one sitting, without a pen anywhere nearby.  Just read.  Then go refill your coffee or tea cup, letting the mess sift through your mind.

2. Upon return to your writing space, rather than tackling the words on the page — that are still a mess — sit back, mentally and physically, and ask yourself this question:

* What are the major sections or chunks of ideas presented here?

3. Brainstorm your list of chunks, then edit the list until you are satisfied you have included all the important points you want to make in this piece of writing.

4. Then ask yourself this question:

* In what sequence should these sections be presented to be the most use to the readers?

Create an outline of the sections, and create a title for each section.  These titles are usually called headers. (Now do you see the obviousness of the idea?  But it really is effective.)

5. Working with your computer file, after your introductory paragraph(s), type in your first header and add a few blank lines below it.  Type in your second header and a few blank lines.  Continue to add each section title/header and the blank lines until you have the complete outline typed in.

6. Read through each paragraph of the mess to make sure that it covers only one idea.  If it includes two or more, break the paragraph up so that each chunk has one idea.  Don’t worry about making sentences complete; just make it so you can move paragraphs (ideas) around your file.

7. Cut and paste each paragraph into its appropriate section.  Don’t worry about putting the paragraphs in their proper order just yet.  Assign each paragraph to its section.

8. Do you have any paragraphs left over that seem to be extra or not fit anywhere?  Decide if that paragraph represents a needed section for the writing or if it should be used in another article or just deleted.

9. With all the paragraphs in their assigned sections or deleted, print out your organized mess.  I have found it easier and much more efficient and effective to revise from a printed copy, rather than revising on the computer screen. You will catch more errors and detect more problems with the printout.

10. Read through each section and organize the paragraphs within.  Work on one section at a time until you are happy with its organization.

11. Delete or combine any redundant wording or ideas.  These redundancies were a contributor to the feeling of the “mess.”

12. Add paragraphs and sentences to ensure a good flow of words and ideas.

13. Simmer.  That means, put the writing away for a while.  Go get some lunch, play with the dog or kids, take a walk.  Do not think about the writing.  Focus on something else, like cleaning up the kitchen or putting in a load of laundry.

14. When you return, read the entire piece and revise it again.  This time it should read well, feeling fresh, written well, and well organized.  If not, fix the problems that you can now see (but could not see before your simmer time).  Revise until you feel the piece is ready for the world.  Perhaps you could find someone to read it, just to make sure you have achieved your purpose for this piece of writing.

15. Send it out to the marketplace.  And immediately start on something else.

Above all, have fun with your writing.

Originally published online at Wordpreneur.com in 2010.

DEFINED

An analogy is a comparison of two different items showing similarities with five or six points.

WHEN TO USE IT

Create an analogy when you are discussing a complicated issue unknown to your readers.  In order for the readers to more clearly understand the complicated topic, find a familiar topic that has five or six points of similarity to your complicated topic.

TWO EXAMPLES

You could write about the circulatory system of the human body and the flow of blood throughout the entire system, and compare it with a freeway system.  The freeways themselves, those six to ten lanes of concrete, could be equated to the main arteries of the circulatory system; the off ramps and on ramps could be compared to smaller vessels.  As the size of the roadway diminishes, the size of the blood vessels of the body are used in comparison.

You could compare a movie studio production lot with a small town.  Each serves a relatively stable population with the same services: food, clothing, transportation, employment, and so on.  For those unfamiliar with a movie lot, this analogy could clue them into the vast complexities of the movie lot by just looking at their own town.

QUESTIONS FOR DETERMINING ITS USE

When might you use an analogy in your nonfiction writing?  Ask yourself these questions:

1. Does your topic include a complex or complicated subtopic with many aspects to discuss?

2. Assuming you could find a familiar item to use in comparison, would using an analogy actually help the reader understand your topic and the points being made about that topic?

3. Could the points of comparison (those five or six points) be actual points used to discuss the topic?  For example, with the circulatory system example above, might one of your points be the width of the blood vessels, the rate of blood flow through those blood vessels, and so on?

4. Is your audience sophisticated enough to understand the comparison you will be using between the two different items?

5. Do you have space for the extended discussion an analogy would require?  If your writing project is a short article, would a short analogy, briefly discussed and with only three points of similarity, actually help your reader? Or perhaps the article could be the analogy alone.

6. Does your genre allow analogies?  Some genre or fields of discipline might consider an analogy too informal.  Have you seen other authors in your field use analogies?

Analogies can add depth and greater understanding to your writing, if using the analogy fits with your topic and genre.  Play with the idea, and if appropriate, use it.  Have fun with analogies.

NONFICTION WRITERS

Nonfiction writers observe and experience problems and challenges, learn about the issues, develop solutions, and relay this information to their readers.  Writers have a unique ability to identify, gather, organize, and relate all of this information so the readers can identify their own problems as one written about, implement the solutions suggested, and gain a life easier or better, at least less challenging.

Topics available for discussion (and expertise) are infinite.  You can be an expert on any topic, literally.  You may be an expert in your business or profession, fueled by education and experience.  You may be an expert in an activity considered by many as a hobby, fueled by your own passion for the activity or topic.  For example, readers might be looking for information about training a dog, keeping weeds down in a garden, weaving baskets from straw, or learning about the best hiking trails.  The possibilities are limitless.

Whatever the topic is, whatever your expertise is, you know a lot about the topic because of your own interest or passion.  You have been a beginner with the topic with all the questions and misconceptions or assumptions about it.  You have learned about the topic through research or experience, simply “getting your feet wet.”  You have experienced the problems associated with the topic, made all the mistakes, which you have learned from.  And you have come up with solutions to the problems and mistakes to share with others.

Your expertise in that topic allows you to write about it, so readers can benefit from your insights.

So you decide to write an article, or start a blog, or write a short e-book or a full-length book about the topic.  You will relate all of your wisdom, so the readers can benefit from your experience, knowledge, and understanding of the problem and its solutions.  You will write from your vantage point as an expert.

FICTION WRITERS

Fiction writers, too, use their expertise in their writing.  However, instead of addressing the problem straight on, as a nonfiction writer would, they sneak their expertise into the story by having the characters suffer the problem and stumble on or learn about the solution that works best.   They have the character make the mistakes real life people make and then learn ways to overcome those mistakes to make life better in the story.

Fiction is fun for readers and viewers because they can see how another person, the character, solves this common (or uncommon but still interesting) problem.  How does the character deal with the challenge when first confronted with it?  What fears are brought up?  How does the character finally solve the problem or deal with the challenge?  And how can the viewer or reader learn from the character’s missteps or mistakes and eventual success to apply lessons learned in their own, real lives?

The fiction writer has the added challenge of inserting this expert wisdom and knowledge into the story (whatever form that may take) in such as way as to make the knowledge part of the story and not a 2×4 beating the reader over the head with the information.

CONCLUSION

Writers become experts in their topic or topics through research, education, experience, and continuing passion for the topic.  And it is their job to share that expertise with the readers.

Prewriting involves all the activities needed to prepare for the first draft, starting with that first flash of a book idea, all the way to a complete outline.  The prewriting process (at least as I have experienced it) has several steps, each with a few techniques that make the step easier to get through.

So why not just start typing after that first flash of the idea?

Only in the movies does a writer do that.  Remember Chevy Chase in Funny Farm (1988)?  He had what he thought was a great idea for a novel.  He sat down at the typewriter, typed “Chapter 1” and stared at the typewriter, at a loss for what to write next.  He hadn’t done his prewriting.  He finally figured it out and produced (in my view, based on the thickness of the manuscript) a paltry attempt at a novel, more of a novella than anything else.

Chase’s character eventually gave up on the novel and became a sports writer.  I wonder, as a writer and teacher, whether he gave up because he didn’t understand the process of writing, or whether he simply wasn’t cut out to be a novelist.  He seemed happy with the sports writing, so the movie did have a happy ending.

Prewriting is a vital part of the writing process.  In approximate sequence within the prewriting process, the benefits of prewriting are as follows:

1. Prewriting can be a lot of fun. Anything is possible at this point.  You have your wonderful book idea, still fuzzy and vague but with great possibilities.  Your ideas can be freewheeling, even idiotic.  It doesn’t matter.  Just keep brainstorming, playing with ideas, collecting resources and notes, doing all the other activities needed to finish this stage of the writing process.

The only restriction at this point (unless you place more on yourself) is your need or requirement to stick close to the original vision for the book.  But even that restriction is false.  Your original idea will rarely match the finished product.  I know that’s hard to read, but that’s been my experience.  Of course, my books are often better, usually more complicated, than the original idea..  The vagueness of the vision allows you to begin work on the idea, so you can create the book you are intended to write.

Detours and weird ideas can often lead to gemstones for your book, whether with the content, organization, or whatever.  At this point, your book can go in many directions.  Explore them all until you hit upon the one that feels right.  “Ah, ha!  That’s what I’m going to write.”

2. You can work out the true purpose of the book, playing with alternatives until you find the one that’s right for you and the reader.  What benefits are you looking for as the writer?  What benefits are you hoping to give the reader?  Make sure your book addresses these purposes.

3.  You get to find out more about your readers (a.k.a. target market, audience).  This exploration is part of your research about your competition. You probably know a lot about them because you were one of them, having been a beginner once yourself.  Or you might be aiming at a different audience, in which case you‘ve got some work to do.

In your exploration of your readers, you can play around with additional audiences you might want to address.  Play around with addressing different age groups or education levels or levels of proficiency with your topic.  Do you want to write for adults who are beginners in your field, or practitioners?  Brainstorm all the possibilities for all these variables. You might find that one or two of the alternatives present other book projects you can tackle, once this primary book is done.  Heck, create an entire industry or franchise out of your book idea, aiming each book at a different audience.

4. You get to plan the book to best meet the needs of your readers.  You get to play around with different organizational strategies for the entire book and for each chapter.  You get to think about different features for the chapters.  You can even play around with the cover design.

5. You get to do preliminary research, as much as you need to finish the first draft, or at least as much as you think you need at this point.

If you are passionate about your topic (that’s most important), then doing more reading on the topic should be sheer delight.  Remember that eventually you have to write your own book, so don’t get lost in the research.

Give yourself a time limit for the research process, after which you’ll add research questions to your Research Questions List, to be done during revision.

6. You can easily evaluate new ideas that come flooding into your mind (and they will).  Does the idea fit your present vision of the book?  If used, would this new idea drastically change the book? Is that change good or bad?  If good, then where does the idea fit into your present outline or vision of the book?

7.  By the end of the process, you’ll have a full outline of the book (that is, if you follow my process, addressed in WRITE THAT BOOK! The Prewriting Process available at ploegersservices.com.

With that outline, you’ll be able to see the whole project at a glance.  Spread the outline across your desk and examine your creation.  With this outline, you’ll be able to detect:

* inadequate organization of the ideas,

* gaps in ideas and content,

* whether you have one book or two (or more),

* whether a chapter will become a monster, which needs to be cut down to size right now, before you begin drafting.  (This result also happens with drafting, but you will deal with that later.)

8. Prewriting allows you to write the first draft more easily because you know what you want to write at each writing session.

9. Prewriting increases your confidence in yourself as a writer and about your book idea.  You’ll be able to determine if the project has merit, and if you’ll be able to finish the project and actually write that book!

A WARNING

The one warning about prewriting is that you can become so fascinated by this stage (it really is fun), that you don’t actually move past it to create the first draft, and then on to (oh, no!) revision.  Like research, writers have a tendency to spend too much time here and never leave.

Allow about 25% of the project’s entire schedule to do prewriting.  This is the time that works for me.  If you have extensive research to do (which you shouldn’t, at least not for a first or early book in your writing career), then allow more time, say 30-35% of the time.  But then move on, and write the first draft.

Prewriting is the first stage of writing any nonfiction work, an important stage because it allows for the rest of the project to be easier than if you are stumbling around in the dark.  Take the time to do your prewriting – you’ll be glad you did.

WHAT WRITING PAUSES ARE AND ARE NOT

Writing pauses are the result of external forces in a writer’s life, ones over which the writer has little or no control.  An otherwise productive writing time with great momentum can suddenly come to a crashing halt for any number of reasons.

Maybe you must suddenly move, requiring time to pack and move rather than write.  The energy focus has shifted, and writing is not included in that focus.  Or perhaps you must take care of an ill or injured loved one.  Or maybe the 9-5 job suddenly demands weekends and evenings to complete the work, eliminating your usually sacred writing time.

Or maybe your home or family is involved in some natural disaster.  Let’s face it: when your house is under water or in rubble around your feet, you’re probably not thinking about writing your next article or chapter for which you have a book contract although your writer’s mind will send you ideas saying, “This could make a great article, if I survive it.”  But then, you might sneak in a few hours of writing as a relief from the overwhelming events in your present reality, just to save your sanity.

A writing pause is NOT writer’s block or any other internally generated work stoppage.  Nor are the pauses voluntary; they must be endured until the challenges can be overcome and writing resumed.

WHAT TO DO ABOUT WRITING PAUSES

The first action you can take is to determine the percentage of time taken, the severity and estimated duration of the writing pause.  Does this challenge require a full time effort, or can you sandwich some writing time in among the required tasks?  Will the challenge take a few days at most to solve, or are you looking at weeks or months?  If it will be a short, tolerable pause, you can accept it and deal with the challenges at hand, knowing you’ll return to your writing soon.

If, however, the pause may be a longer duration, you can take other actions.

First, ask yourself if you can eliminate or delegate any of the tasks required in dealing with the challenge.  See if you can free up even a few hours a week to write: these few hours may save your sanity.

Second, if you can’t free up any time at all, which is understandable in some situations, especially if the challenge is emotionally exhausting, then you need to simply accept the idea that your writing will be on hold for a while.  Once you stop struggling against the writing pause and take care of the challenge you are facing, you will have one less frustration to cloud your mind.

In the meantime, set up a file folder, computer file, or shoebox for notes of ideas you receive during this down time.  Write out the idea and date the page, then slip it into your filing system, to be dealt with when you return to your writing.  You can then evaluate these stray ideas for their value and usefulness, and you won’t have lost them forever.

One last idea – an important one – is that you should not beat yourself up about not writing during a writing pause.  The challenges faced are usually not of your making, but you must participate and overcome them to return your life to as near normal as possible, so you can return to your writing.

When (not if) you are confronted with one of these writing pauses, stop and evaluate the situation and give yourself permission to stop writing until the challenge is resolved.  Then return to your writing with new experiences to use in your work.  Remember, everything can be used in your writing.  Everything.

Some writers — J.K. Rowling of Harry Potter fame is one — are known for preferring noisy, frenetic environments, such as coffee houses.  The noise and activity seem to stimulate their writing muscles, and the productivity increases.

Others writers — such as myself — prefer quiet.  I like a noise level as close to absolute silence as possible, with occasional nature noises acceptable intrusions, usually.  I find that if I have music on (I prefer classical music), or if children are playing and screaming nearby, I become distracted by the noise, which takes me away from my thinking processes.  Sometimes, if I am doing some activity that requires surface thought only, I can have music on.  But when my activity requires deep thought — when I am plotting a novel or revising a draft — I prefer the noise of my mind’s machinations without competition from outside sounds.

DIFFERENT NOISES WITH DIFFERENT EFFECTS

Various types of noises elicit different reactions from writers.  Which ones annoy you, and which ones do you find acceptable or even conducive to writing?  Here is a list of common noises.  Think about each one and find an environment that contains the good noises but not the annoying ones:

* music (your preferred style)

* music (stuff that is just annoying noise to you)

* nature sounds:

- water – ocean surf, waterfalls, rivers or creeks

- bird sounds

- rain – lashing rain or gentle patter on the roof

* people sounds:

- coffee house or restaurant activity

- children playing

- conversations nearby

- phones ringing and the ensuing one-sided conversations

- your own phone ringing (or can you let it go to the answer machine?)

* vehicle sounds:

- trains roaring by, train whistles

- public transport trains, buses, trollies

- car traffic – constant roar of a freeway, occasional street sounds

- planes roaring overhead, engines revving up

Of course, I can use my need for absolute quiet as an excuse not to write.  If the neighborhood children are playing nearby, screaming and racing around as children do, or someone’s music is playing, and I fear the noise will continue for a while, I will put off writing and do something else.  If I really have to write, as with a deadline, I try to ignore the noise, but the frustration impacts the quality of the writing.   The better solution, however, is to create that ideal writing space in the beginning, tweak it as you realize new or different needs, and then write to the best of your ability.

To be as productive as possible as a writer, determine the qualities of your ideal writing space, including the source and level of noise.  Do this consciously, and you can find that ideal place to create your best work.

Let us say that you want to write an article.  It covers a topic you are familiar with and that you have written about in the past.  You have a good idea of your content for this particular article’s approach or focus; you might have even jotted down the main points you want to cover.

You make your first attempt at writing the article.  As you read over your first draft, you realize that it is not right.  It might cover the points, but the draft does not do it for you.

Realize that all drafts are awful, so I am not talking about the issue of lousy first drafts.  I am talking about how the ideas are expressed or organized.  I am talking about how sometimes the writing just gets away from you.

So you set that first attempt aside and try again later, starting from scratch again.  You might do this for a few times, until you realize that now is simply not the time to write about that particular topic.  Hopefully, you have the choice to put it aside until you are ready.

With the idea of waiting for your writer’s mind to be ready, I am not talking about waiting for the muse to stroke your brow with an illuminating vision of the final product.  I am talking about tripping over a topic you thought you could write about but that does not come out right when you try.  As you pick yourself up from the floor, you might mumble, “Huh, I guess I’m not ready to write that yet.”

Writing is a matter of trial and error with topics.  Despite your best intentions, you may not be ready to write about some topics, even if you know quite a bit about the topic, which might be the problem.

A CASE HISTORY

I normally write two posts a day (weekdays) for my blog.  They range from about 400 to well over 1000 words.  And most days, I choose two topics to write about, I draft them, and the next day I revise and publish them.  (I did a post recently called “My Blog Writing Process,” which describes this process.)

But one day a few weeks ago, I set out to describe the three publishing options available for writers these days.  It is a simple enough topic: briefly describe traditional publishing, vanity or subsidy publishing, and self-publishing.  I have had experience with two of the three (I never wanted to waste the money on vanity publishing).  I even created a 7-hour workshop to help writers make an informed decision.

So when I started to draft my article — my first attempt — the writing took off, and I realized I had lost control of it.  So I stopped.  I let the idea simmer for a while and did something else.

I tried again.  And again, I was frustrated with the result.  Stop.  Simmer. Try again.

With the third attempt (that is, starting from scratch), I thought I had it nailed.  I would describe three advantages and disadvantages though all three had many more than three of each.  Once again, I was frustrated by the result.

I finally gave up.  If I cannot write the article with three completely new attempts, then now is not the time to write the article.  You have to be willing to give up and try again later if that is the action required.

I told my sister that I was trying to cram a 7-hour workshop into 500 words, which cannot be done.

MY POINT

My point here is that sometimes you will find that you are simply not ready to write something.  After a few valiant attempts, you might as well accept defeat and move on to another topic, one that you can write.

Keep your notes and drafts of those attempts that were so unsatisfying, put them in a folder, and keep them handy, for you never know when you will be ready to write the article.  You might get a flash of an idea one day and know how to tackle the topic to make it right.

Until then, the notes are in the folder and they are not going anywhere.

Luckily for me, this frustrating episode does not happen often, but it does happen.  As a writer, you learn to work through the rough spots and move on.

AUDIENCE

Writers must know and understand their audience: their reading level, their understanding about the topic and the information they are missing, their reading and buying habits, and so on.  The writer must understand the information the audience knows about the topic (so as not to duplicate information) and the information they want and need.  Writers must understand the audience’s level of technical knowledge as it relates to the topic.  And writers must understand how the audience learns best, through written words alone or accompanied by pictures and diagrams.  And that’s just a start of the list about audience understanding.

FOR EXAMPLE

Suppose you are writing some instructional materials about computer operations.  You have two audiences you are writing for: 1) a group of older people, some of whom are terrified of computers (they think they’ll blow up the world by pressing the wrong button) while others use email and shop online, and 2) fifth-graders in a classroom.  How would you approach each writing project?

For the older people, I would suggest starting simply, such as how to turn on the computer. Use words they are familiar with (no jargon such as “boot up”).  Include screenshots of each screen and take them step-by-step through the process.  For those familiar with the basics, they can skip the beginning instructions.  You also need to relieve their fears about the terrible results that could happen by pressing the wrong button.

For the fifth graders, realize that they have probably been on a computer — at first as a toy and later on a real computer — since early childhood, so your instructions can use some jargon, which they will probably understand, and you can skip over the basics, such as how to turn on the computer.  You can discuss higher level functions and activities than you can initially with the older people.

That’s the difference between audiences.

PURPOSE

In addition to knowing and understanding your audience, you also must know your overall and specifi purpose for writing that particular piece of writing.

As an overall purpose, are you going to inform your audience about the topic?  What main points do you want to use to inform them?  What organization of content would best work with this audience?  What would be the best way to present the materials: in an A-to-Z format, as questions and answers, as a problem to be solved by the solutions presented, or any other way of presenting information.

Are you going to try to persuade them to start or change an opinion or behavior? What problem are you addressing?  Will you present cause and effect information to show the problem’s sequence of events?  Are you going to argue your case to your reader, using reasons and evidence to persuade them you are right?

Are you simply going to entertain them, perhaps teaching them something in the process through your character’s actions and reactions, as with fiction writing?

Once you know your overall purpose, go deeper.  What specifically do you want to do with the text?  Write out your purpose statement.  You might want to inform your readers about solutions to a problem that you know work.  Or you might want to persuade them to try your new service.

Post your purpose statement at your writing space.  Every time you think about including some point in the text, ask yourself if that point will contribute to your specific purpose.  If it does, add it.  If it will not, write it down and file it in your place for stray writing ideas.  No idea is ever wasted when written down.  Make sure you date your note.

Knowing “why” you are writing will help you answer many of the “what” questions associated with decisions for writing about your topic.