Every novel needs critical feedback. And I do mean every novel. I don't care if you're writing your first novel or have published 10 already. You have to think critically about your novel, assessing its strengths and weaknesses, so that you can constantly improve your writing.
Creative writing students will recognize rubrics from class. These are what your instructors use as a guide to marking fiction. Since fiction is notoriously difficult to mark, a rubric can at least standardize the process and take some of the emotion out of evaluating fiction. Rubrics are used every day in a classroom setting.
But fiction created for class is not the only fiction and needs a fair evaluation. Novels must be both evaluated and scored before you even think of submitting it to anyone. Whether you seek out a traditional publisher or decide to self-publish, a manuscript that hasn't been evaluated is not ready for the public eye. Not even the eyes of an editor, and certainly not the eyes of a publisher.
But how do you go about scoring your novel? Well, you use a rubric very much like a classroom instructor would. But novels are longer and more involved than the short stories most instructors have you write, so they require a slightly different rubric. Use the questions and guidelines below to help you score your novel. Or, even better, have someone you trust score it for you. But not just anyone. Your cousin who's never read anything except comic books? Probably not a good choice. If you've written a fantasy novel but your mother has only ever read romance, she's probably not the right person either. You need someone who can offer constructive feedback and has knowledge of the genre. If you can't find someone who fits this description, score the book yourself.
Novel-Writing Rubric
Score each question according to the following guidelines by giving it a number from 1 to 5.
- Not present
- Present but not addressed
- Addressed but needs additional detail or clarity
- Well done, but needs a little polishing
- Excellent and vividly written
Description
- Does the novel show instead of tell by engaging the five senses?
- Are descriptions powerful and vivid but delivered in short bursts?
- Have you avoided cliches except where appropriate to the story and the character?
Setting
- Is the setting appropriate to the characters and the genre of the novel?
- Is the time frame both clear and appropriate to your novel?
- Does the chronology of the novel make sense to the reader?
Main Characters
- Is your protagonist clearly established early on?
- Is your antagonist a worthy adversary?
- Do all your main characters behave consistently and have believable motives?
- Are physical descriptions conveyed clearly without overburdening the reader with description?
- Do your characters express their personalities through actions and words (avoiding large blocks of exposition)?
- Is your point of view consistent and does it fit with the novel?
- Do your main characters make up most of the scenes in the book?
Minor Characters
- Do your minor characters have consistent personalities?
- Are minor characters developed enough to be believable?
- Do your minor characters stay in the background except when they're actually a part of the action (they shouldn't take over a scene)?
Plot
- Does the plot flow smoothly and consistently from beginning to end?
- Do any subplots detract from the main plot of the novel?
- Is the conflict appropriate and believable?
- Does the conflict engage readers?
- Does the beginning of the book grab readers and encourage them to keep reading?
- Does the rising action of your plot lead naturally to the final crisis?
- Is the final crisis believable?
- Are all plots and subplots wrapped up by the end of the novel?
- Is there an underlying theme of your novel?
Structure
- Does your novel have a clearly defined beginning, middle, and end?
- Do the plot, characters, and setting interact to make the entire story more believable?
Use these questions to see how well you've constructed your novel. Once you've done this, you can go back and see where you need to make adjustments. Anything with less than a 4 needs work. 4s should be polished to become 5s if possible, but I think every author will tell you that having a 4 here and there is something we all just learn to live with. You might want to consider evaluating each chapter on its own so that you can really isolate the little problems that crop up.
Remember to be honest when evaluating your own book. It's not easy to be critical, but the entire process will only make your novel stronger.
Just released in the fall of 2012, Thief's Heartache is a full-length novel and the third book of the popular "Imperial Series." This book follows Marella, oldest daughter of Crown Prince Damuk, as she grows to womanhood. Little does she know that her fate will shortly be ripped from her grasp. This one was written for all the fans who wanted more of the muradeen, so yes, the snippy sea serpent makes a comeback. Thief's Heartache is available as a trade paperback or as an ebook (in most formats, including Kindle, Kobo, and Nook).
Read on for an excerpt from the book:
The inn was eerily quiet and nearly deserted.
There was an old innkeeper behind a counter who nodded to Benji as they
entered. The innkeeper served ale to a man who was obviously well into his
cups. Two men sat before a blazing fire, looking half-asleep and lost in the
shadows. A table in the corner held another man, facedown, who was likely passed
out from too much drink. Other than that, the inn was empty.
Boann rushed in with
Benji, obviously excited. But Marella was cautious and not a little frightened.
Something didn’t feel right. She didn’t trust these men, especially Roc and
Benji. They kept casting furtive glances toward the fireplace, glances she
wouldn’t have seen if she hadn’t been looking for them. Something was
happening, but she couldn’t figure out what that something might be. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.
As Benji started pulling
Boann toward the stairs that led to the chambers on the second level, Marella
thought she knew what Benji had in mind. She thought of warning Boann, but quickly
realized that Boann was welcoming his advances. If Benji intended to bed her
and she had no objection, what could Marella do? Absolutely nothing, that was
what she could do.
But she had to try.
“Boann, we should stay down here. In full view,” she said pointedly.
“You think I’m going
to deflower your cousin, is that it?” Benji asked. She didn’t reply but her
expression said it all. He only laughed. “If you’re so worried about her, come
up with us.”
“You think we need a
chaperon?” Boann asked, cuddling up against his chest. She turned in his arms
and squirmed against him, delighting in his quick intake of breath.
His arms tightened
about her as he chuckled low in her ear. “I think it’s wise if we have some …
supervision. I don’t want to get carried away with such a delightful package.”
The pair moved up
the stairs again and Marella was forced to make a choice. Stay below or
accompany her cousin. If she stayed below, not only was Boann left alone with
Benji, but Marella would be here, in the common room of the inn, with a bunch
of men she really didn’t know. That didn’t strike her as the safest choice. As
Boann and Benji reached the top of the stairs, Marella hurried after them.
The pair disappeared
into a chamber off to the left and Marella followed, slipping in through the
door. As Boann teased and danced around the room, Marella went to stand in the
corner and took stock of her surroundings. What she saw confused her and she
tried to reconcile what she saw with what she’d been told.
The shutters for the
single window in the chamber were closed and barred, but it was a warm enough
night to leave the windows open. There was no reason to keep a window on the
second level closed on such a warm night. There was a trunk over by the hearth,
a large trunk that looked as if it was used to transport fine gowns, but no
gowns or even fabric were in evidence. When she looked closer, Marella could
see several small holes in the trunk. Why would anyone drill holes in a trunk?
The holes made it useless for protecting its contents from water or pests.
She moved closer to
the trunk, hoping her mind would provide her with the answer. But instead she
found another question. There was a small bottle on the table beside the trunk.
It was no larger than her hand, more of a flask than a bottle. Marella picked
it up and pulled the stopper out, taking a small sniff. She reeled and put the
flask down before she dropped it. Whatever was in the flask made her head spin.
She was forced to place her hands flat on the table and lean down, trying to
regain her equilibrium. She was so disoriented that she didn’t hear the chamber
door open and close behind her.
“Looks like someone
got curious,” came an unknown masculine voice from behind her. It wasn’t Benji.
Marella turned just as Boann let out a frightened squeal that was quickly cut
off by Benji’s strong arms.
There were four new
men in the room, and Marella recognized them as the strangers from the common
room. While she was still deciding what to do, one of them approached her. She
turned and tried to run, but escape wasn’t possible. He soon held her in his
arms, squeezing to let her know that he could hurt her with every little
effort.
“Scream and I’ll do
worse than squeeze,” he snapped next to her ear.
Beside the bed,
Boann was trying to kick her way free of Benji, but she had no more success
than Marella. One of the other men approached Benji and ripped Boann from his
arms, throwing her on the bed and straddling her to keep her in place. Boann
might have screamed but the man slapped her, threatening worse if she didn’t
keep quiet. Boann whimpered but didn’t scream.
“Aaron, Dallas!” one
of the other men snapped, still standing by the door. “No bruises!”
Marella’s eyes went
to the door and she thought for a moment that the liquid in the flask was
making her see double. Two men, identical, stood near the door, unmoving and
uncompromising. After studying them, she realized they weren’t really
identical. One had lighter hair and the other had more lines around his eyes,
making him appear older. But they were the same height, had the same facial
structure, and even the same body type. Twins, Marella decided.
The barked order of
the one with lighter hair at least had her captor easing his hold, allowing
Marella to breath. On the bed, the man restraining Boann moved back a bit.
Feeling eyes moving
over her body, Marella looked back toward the door. The man who hadn’t yet
spoken, the twin who appeared older, was gazing at her, then to Boann and back
again. “Which one is the princess?”
“Both, actually,”
Benji replied. “But Boann is the one on the bed.”
“And the other?” The
man’s eyes were burning into her leather-clad body and Marella wished she could
cover herself with a thick blanket.
“Her cousin, Princess
Marella.” Benji moved closer to the twins. “Daughter of Crown Prince Damuk of
the Abital Empire.”
The man moved toward
her and Marella tried to shrink back into the one who held her. But there was
nowhere to go. He came up to her and ran his hand down her cheek. He spoke to
Benji while still looking at her. “You weren’t asked to take any other. Just
Boann.”
Benji cleared his
throat. “I know. I thought you might like two for the price of one. Ransom both
girls.”
Raising his eyebrow,
the man didn’t respond to this. He was silent for so long that his twin finally
moved forward. “Good idea, Benji. Here,” he took out two bags of gold and
handed them to the young courtier. “Split this with your cohorts.” It was a lot
more money than Benji had demanded, but William wanted to keep the courtier’s
loyalty. They might need him later. With a wave of his hand he dismissed Benji
and moved toward the table. Picking up the flask, he removed a cloth from his pocket.
“What do you want to
do with the second girl?” he asked his brother as he moved toward Boann. She
struggled, but he managed to hold the cloth over her mouth and nose. She slumped
back against the pillows almost instantly, unconscious.
“What did you do to
her?” Marella cried, fearing her cousin was dead.
William raised an
eyebrow at the feisty young princess. “She’s only asleep, Your Highness. She
will recover in a few candlemarks.” The girl let out a relieved sigh that had
William chuckling. Still, he looked toward his brother for direction.
Clinton was
considering. The girl was pretty enough, but her cousin would occupy all his
energy. He didn’t have time for a second girl. It didn’t matter whose daughter
she was. Still … she was pretty. He
exchanged a glance with his brother. “Do you want her?” Clinton gave a purely
mental shrug. He could always use two girls.
He might have said
no but for the look in Clinton’s eyes. William knew his brother was fully
capable of claiming both girls even if he seemed unwilling to take the second
girl at the moment. The granddaughter of the Emperor … she was too juicy a plum
to deny. For the girl’s sake, he nodded. At least, he told himself it was for
the girl’s sake.
Clinton inclined his
head and William clamped the cloth over Marella’s mouth and nose, watching as
she faded into unconsciousness. When she slumped in Aaron’s arms, he removed
the cloth and tucked it and the flask inside his doublet. Then he studied the
trunk next to the cold fireplace. It was large, but he wasn’t sure it was large
enough for two girls.
“Load Boann in
first,” Clinton suggested, reading his brother’s thoughts. “If we have to leave
one, it’s not going to be mine.”
William nodded and
moved toward Boann. He shoved at Dallas until the man moved and lifted the girl
gently, placing her in the trunk and cradling her head with a soft blanket. He
didn’t want to hurt either girl. When Boann was as comfortable as he could make
her, he went for Marella, still clutched in Aaron’s arms. She was even lighter
than her cousin, and her hair was slightly longer. He settled her in the trunk,
trying to keep too much of her weight from resting on her cousin, and made her
comfortable. Both girls fit, but barely. He closed the lid, forcing down his
desire to let both girls go. That wasn’t his decision to make.
“Aaron, Dallas, get
the trunk,” Clinton ordered. As the two men bumped the trunk toward the door,
both Clinton and William flinched. “Gently!” Clinton snapped. He watched
critically as the men steadied the trunk.
“Those girls are
going to be battered and bruised tomorrow,” William commented.
Clinton followed the
trunk from the chamber, his brother close on his heels. He shrugged at
William’s concern. “We have ointments and such to treat any minor abrasions.
They’ll be —”
“Turn around and go
the other way!” William admonished, seeing that the men were about the take the
girls down the stairs headfirst. “I don’t want those girls dropped on their
heads.” He smiled at Clinton sheepishly. “Sorry.”
Shrugging, because
he honestly couldn’t remember what he’d been saying when William interrupted, Clinton
just started down the stairs. “Is the wagon prepared?”
“And the horses are
rested,” William responded. “We’re as ready as we’re ever going to be.” They
were in the common room now which was empty. The innkeeper was being paid to
stay in the back and Benji and his men had vanished to begin spending their
fortune.
Clinton nodded at
his brother’s comment, but he couldn’t help being nervous. When William had
guided them into the city, he’d simply followed his brother’s lead, knowing
that if they were caught, it didn’t really matter. They hadn’t done anything
and there was no evidence that they were going to do anything. Now, they had
not one, but two princesses in their
possession, unconscious and tucked in a trunk. If they were caught now, they
would all be executed. Clinton had no illusions, despite his boasts. His magick
was powerful, but he could sense the Imperial mages. They were stronger than
he, and he hadn’t had a woman to recharge his energies since leaving the
island. His own personal power would not be enough against at least a dozen
trained Imperial mages. Not even close.
So he watched
carefully as Aaron and Dallas loaded the wagon. Besides the trunk with the
girls, there were four trunks filled with fancy fabrics. The girls were placed
on the bottom, with a fabric trunk on either side. Two more fabric trunks were
placed on top. All five trunks were identical from the outside. If someone
wanted to find the girls, they’d have to search each trunk.
When the trunks were
loaded, Clinton took his seat, ready to drive the wagon from the city. He was
dressed as a successful merchant, while William and the other men were dressed
as bodyguards. It wasn’t unusual for a merchant to hire guards and travel under
the cover of darkness when transporting valuable goods. He only hoped the
guards at the city gates wouldn’t search the cargo. The palace guards certainly
would have, which is why Clinton hadn’t attempted to take the girl from inside
the palace complex.
The group rattled
down the cobblestone streets, making far too much noise for this time of night,
but no one paid them any mind. Merchant wagons were a fairly common sight in
Scytha and the streets were almost empty anyway. But still, Clinton was uneasy.
One false move and they’d have to fight their way out of the capital, pursued
by guards all the way to the river and possibly beyond.
As they approached
the northernmost city gate, Clinton slowed the wagon. The gates were closed
after nightfall, so Clinton would have to talk his way through. On second thought, I’d better let William
deal with it. Clinton knew very well that William was better with words. As
a city guard emerged from the gatehouse, Clinton waved an imperious hand at his
brother. William rolled his eyes but moved forward.
After a brief
conversation, the guard disappeared into the gatehouse. A moment later, the
gate slid open with a great creak. The small group rolled through the gates and
Clinton almost urged the horses to a faster pace. But he knew that the guards
might get suspicious, so he held the beasts to a fast walk.
Once they were out
of sight of the walls and any guards who patrolled the outskirts of Scytha, William
took the lead. They left the road and maneuvered the wagon into a grove of
trees. Four more horses waited in this grove. They’d wanted the additional
horses for several reasons, including anonymity. If the guards had studied
their horses closely and an alarm was raised, they didn’t want to be recognizable.
It was for this same
reason that each of the men changed clothes. Instead of guards and a merchant,
they became four lords, well dressed and impeccably groomed. Clinton was the
first to finish altering his appearance. He strode over to the trunks and
pushed the top two off the wagon. They landed with a thud on the soft earth.
Throwing open the
lid to the trunk that held the two girls, he stared down at them. “Which one is
Boann?”
William jumped up
into the wagon and leaned down, lifting Marella out gently. “Marella was on
top,” he replied as he stepped down and laid Marella out on the grass. He
watched as Clinton pulled Boann out and threw her over his shoulder. “Do we
have enough clothing for two girls?”
“We should,” Dallas
replied. “I didn’t know exactly what size the princess was, so I threw in
several gowns. Four gowns.”
Clinton had already
pulled a gown out from one of the trunks still on the wagon. He stripped the
masculine clothing from Boann’s still body without preamble, but stopped before
dressing her. His eyes roamed over her naked form and he smiled. “Well, I’m
luckier than I thought. And here I was under the impression that princesses
were lazy creatures, prone to carrying too much weight. This one is … lovely.”
Dallas and Aaron admired her exposed body, whispering amongst themselves.
“You should dress
her before she catches a chill,” William admonished. He was already pulling the
clothing from Marella, but he didn’t want anyone ogling her. Taking care to
keep her covered, he dressed her swiftly, not even taking a moment to admire
her before ensuring her modesty was preserved.
His obvious concern
for the girl made Clinton laugh. “You’re too tenderhearted, brother. She’s only
a woman.”
“I have a better
opinion of women than you do.” It was true. William had spent more time with
their mother before she died. Their mother had been a lovely and refined lady,
a lady who’d loved both her sons and mourned the fact that she rarely saw the
elder twin. She had been deserving of love and respect, and had taught William that
all women were entitled to a certain level of respect. He still felt that, even
after years of serving his brother.
Clinton only shrugged and started to dress Boann. Once this task was completed, the men turned the old horses free and ounted the new steeds, the girls riding in front of William and Clinton. Without a backward glance, they rode north toward the river.
I've been flooded with e-mails lately asking me what I've read lately and what I thought about what I've been reading. I'm a little surprised that anyone's interested in what I read, but since it seems that some people out there do care, I've decided to post reviews about some of the books I've read lately. Not all of the books I've read. I read 4-5 books a week and I want to post about more than my own reading habits. But a review every few weeks may be just the thing. Fair warning: I read a lot of fantasy. Don't be surprised if many of my reviews focus on this genre. I'm a fantasy author, after all.
A few weeks ago I read A Game of Thrones. It's the first book in "The Song of Ice and Fire" series by George RR Martin. It was well crafted, well written, and intriguing, which I don't say about many books. A thoroughly wonderful read, at least in my opinion. But I'm assuming you want a little more detail than that.
There are a few things about this book that will either make you love it or hate it, depending on your tastes and your attention span. First of all, this book is an epic, and I mean that in the truest sense. The novel spans vast amounts of time and moves all over place. Also, the story is not wrapped up by the end of the novel, so I immediately launched into the second book (A Clash of Kings is next, if you're interested). If you're waiting a long time between the first and the second, you might want to review the first book. A lot of detail revealed in that first book is necessary to fully understand the second. Think of the series as one very long book.
A Game of Thrones is a heavy book and it's not a quick read. Seriously, it's 700 pages and there are dozens of characters, each of whom has their own slightly different story. Subplots abound and you have to pay attention. What seemed like an insignifigant subplot at the beginning of the book might rear its head by the end of the book (or in a later book). There is little to no information presented in the book that has no meaning. If you don't like to focus and pay attention while reading, this book probably isn't for you.
But if you enjoy an epic fantasy whose characters come to life on the page, A Game of Thrones is definately a book to grab. The plot is incredibly complex, but it's also coherent. Everything makes sense and is part of the greater whole. Beware, however, that this book is full of death, bloodshed, and abject cruelty (as are the books that follow). If you don't like a lot of bloodshed and you're looking for "happily ever after" you might want to look elsewhere for your entertainment.
As for the story itself ... well, it's definately modeled after The War of the Roses and even the Hundred Years War. When you think of the struggles between the Starks and the Lannisters (in the book), think of the parallel struggles between the Yorks and the Lancasters (from history). Because of this very-obvious parallel, I wouldn't necessarily call the book "original" since the plot has been done before. But Martin does it better than anyone has in the last 25 years.
It's certainly not the traditional formulaic fantasy, so it's at least refreshing. For example, I'm sure we're all familiar with the modern fantasies where books and books pass and no one of any importance actually dies. Dangers are thrown at them, but everyone survives and lives happily ever after. Martin doesn't do that. Beloved characters do get into situations they can't get out of and they do die. And, unlike some other fantasy stories, dead is dead. They aren't magically resurected later in the story.
Another nice little different between A Game of Thrones and many other modern fantasy novels is the villians. Take a look at some of the fantasy produced in the past 15 years. Most of the villians are ... well, idiots. The bad guys tend to be stupid, arrogant, or easily manipulated, all of which leads to their downfall. Again, Martin doesn't do that. His villians are sneaky, intelligent, and have plans of their own. They don't simply react to external stimuli. This is exciting and, while not exactly new, it's at least not the norm.
But there are a few things readers may not like. Favorite characters will die. My favorite character died. It's just a fact in this book. Yes, there will be other likeable characters to follow, but the favorites are not coming back. If you can't deal with that, read another book.
And the characters are not exactly black and white. In fact, there are very few truly good or truly evil characters. Most are an interesting shade of grey and can be pulled in either direction. Deciding who's good and who's not isn't an easy process, but this makes things interesting. If you like things a little more black and white, there are other fantasy novels to choose from.
This book is written so that you can dip into the minds and hearts of any character in the book. In fact, most characters get to be in the spotlight at some point. The book, since it spans such a vast world, couldn't have been written any other way, but if you don't like head-hopping, you'll get dizzy reading A Game of Thrones.
Warning: Lots of sex and the language is colorful. Don't read it to your kids. And if you don't like excessive swearing, pick another thing to read.
All in all, I'd give A Game of Thrones 4.5 stars out of 5. Why not 5? Once in a while (a very rare while), the prose falls a little flat.
I've been writing all my life, have 3 published novels, 2 collections of short stories, and 3 non-fiction books (under another pseudonym). And I still strive to improve my writing with every stroke of the pen and each tap of the keyboard. There are all kinds of things you can try in an attempt to improve your writing, but I have a few favorites. I do most of these things daily and I firmly believe that they make me a better writer. Try them out for yourself and see if any of them can help you improve the form and function of your written work.
Create Writing Exercises
Writing exercises can be just the thing to help you improve those things that need to be improved. Perhaps you're fictionalizing non-fictional events while writing your novel. You can practice this with writing exercises designed to create fiction from non-fiction. If you're like me, you don't write a lot from the first person point of view. I'm on the verge of tackling my first novel written in the first person, so I've been practicing by reading works by other authors, picking a character, and writing a chapter or so from the viewpoint of the character I've chosen. Pick another book and repeat.
Maybe your problem is the excessive use of passive voice ("to be" and its derivatives generally tell you that you've slipped into passive voice). If this is your problem, practice writing passages with no passive voice at all.
Many young authors rely on adverbs and adjectives to tell their story. If you're overusing these words (watch for words ending in -ly; they're the biggest culprits), you should practicing writing without them. Write a passage that appeals to you, one that is at least 500 words long. Then go through that passage and eliminate all the adjectives and adverbs. Now strengthen the remaining language so that you don't need the words you took out. I'm not saying that adverbs and adjectives are bad. I use them all the time. But I use them with care, inserting them where they'll have the greatest effect. Using them too often weakens your writing, so practice until you no longer rely on them. Then they become a tool rather than a crutch.
Practice your weaknesses. If you're not very good at dialogue, if all your dialogue sounds the same, practice distinctive dialogue. If you've never written a novel and find yourself a little intimidated, practice writing short stories first. I start every day with a writing exercise to get the juices flowing. Try it and see how it works for you.
Brainstorming to Improve Your Fiction Writing
If you're writing a novel, you have to have a seemingly-endless stream of ideas. This can be difficult as you progress and the word count grows. But when you're having trouble with a scene or don't know where to go with your plot, try brainstorming, sometimes called word association.
Sit down with a pen and paper and write down a word or phrase that represents the scene or plot you're working on. Then let other words and phrases come to you, writing them down without regard to how they might apply to your story. You never know what will come of it.
As an example, I had a young woman chained in a cave. This young woman has magick, but she's so injured that she has not the strength to use it. She's good with a sword, but she's chained and doesn't have a sword at the moment. Where's the guy with the lock picks when you need him? Oh, that's right. He's 1000 miles away. And anyone else who might have been able to help her was either captured themselves, too far away, or unaware of her plight. How, exactly, am I going to get her out of this one? I could go back and rewrite parts of the story, but I'm happy with what I've written.
Time to brainstorm. Since the problem is those damned chains, that's the word I started with. Chains. Trapped. Cold. Metal. Sharp. Blood. Blood magick.
There it was. Just a few words in and I'd come across what I needed. What if the chains had cut into her ankles? She's now bleeding. She's a creature of magick. Magick flows in her blood. What's a little blood magick between friends?
It took some ironing out, but I managed to get my heroine free without having to alter the story too much. She was rather the worse for wear, but she was at least in one piece. Mostly.
You can use this same technique when you run into problems. This will help you improve your story telling and come up with new ideas. Or perhaps draw out that idea that was hiding in the back of your mind just waiting to be set free.
Timed Writing as an Exercise
Have you got a timer of some kind? A stopwatch? A microwave (these all have timers on them these day)? An egg timer? Then you can do this little exercise. If you're being plagued by writer's block or find yourself procrastinating, you should grab a pen and paper and sit next to your timer. Give yourself about 10 minutes and just write. Write anything, but write constantly.
Don't worry about grammar, spelling, or punctuation. In fact, don't worry about anything that's appearing on the paper before you. Just let things flow. If you can't think of anything to write, start with a single word. Repeat that word on the page until other words come to your mind. Eventually, you'll be writing something intelligible, though not necessarily something good. But, over time, you'll learn to sit down and write, and the stuff you write will get better.
Is it important to be able to write on command? It is for me. I'm a novelist by profession. This means that I made all my income from writing books. Royalties are my bread and butter. And I have two small children to support all by myself. So if I can't write, I'm taking food out of my childrens' mouths. Not literally, but every day I waste is another day that I could be working on a project that will put food on the table when the royalties come in.
If you're hoping to be able to actually make some money writing, you have to write on command, and you have to do it well. The only way to do this is to practice.
Believe in Your Story
If you really want to write well and continue to improve, then you need to have some faith. You have to believe that you are writing a story to the best of your ability. You have to convince yourself that you are perfectly capable of writing a story that others will want to read if you just try a little harder.
You also have to banish those little thoughts that bog writers down. "Why can't I write anything decent?" "This is garbage!" "No one will want to read this!" "I am a terrible writer." All of these thoughts are detrimental to your work as a writer.
Every time you catch yourself thinking these things, change the thought to something positive. "My writing is getting better every day." "People will love this!" "I am a writer." These thoughts will slowly change the way you think and improve you ability to write and tell a story. It works, but only if you truly believe in what you're telling yourself.
You do create your own reality, especially as a novelist, so practice and believe in yourself and you'll find your own writing improving daily.
