When to Begin the Next Project

Before you're ready

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It’s not quite midnight.

For the first few novels I wrote, something happened in the last quarter of the process: my work would slow to a backwards crawl. I thought it was the work at hand, and me struggling with it.

There are three different types of energy that go into a novel: ‘first draft,’ ‘last draft,’ and ‘all those inbetweens.’ I thought it was the ‘last draft’ energy, and that slowing was a part of the process. But it could feel agonizing.

I would start to dream of my next project. It would poke its way into my mind at times, and I would try to ignore it. I wanted to focus on the project at hand. How would I ever get through if some noisy thing was crowding its way through the door and starting a ruckus?

The more I tried to shut it out, the more noise it made.

Finally I gave in

I scribbled notes about the idea, and threw them into an old-school box on my desk. A week later I opened a computer file to start more notes.

And—remarkably—the WIP picked up its pace; I was able to “be” with it and go on.

Even so, it still took me time to recognize that this—this urge to see and know the next project—was a real part of my writing process, a significant part, one to which I had to respond. Eventually, I came to know that I HAD to begin to pull together pieces for the next project so that I could complete the current. Such an odd little piece…

How do you function and make decisions in other areas of your life?

We are all so different. You may be someone who has to complete—completely—before moving on to the next.

To consider: how do you approach and complete non-writing tasks and projects?

I tend to do tasks and projects, or to set things in motion, before I’m quite ready. Even the Big Ones in life… like finding myself pregnant before I was “ready.” Though later, thinking about it, I realized if I’d really left that one until I was ready, I probably never would have… The thought of being Ready seemed too big. Maybe, for me, that’s what it comes down to: on some level I know that my “readiness” will be too late for anything—so I leap in.

Then too, there is always the conscious and the sub-conscious at play. And artists need to interrogate both and how they work together.

I’ve made a similar decision when selling my home of many years: I’ve gone out and bought a new home, no subjects on the sale, and sold my own twelve days later. On reflection, I know that the thought and desire to move were both percolating. I’ve now come to think of this as my iteration of “ready.”

Possibly, as much as the incompleted WIP needs the “next” to go on, perhaps the “next” needs the dregs of the current process to be birthed…

This is why we keep process journals. So we can figure out how we work, and make use of that knowledge. Often this is in hindsight, and needs to be recalled later. But we can get caught up in others’ advice… the “Finish what you are working on” and “Complete one task before the next” that you’ll hear from others.

What is your iteration of “ready”? For those who are more organized than I, who plan, who crave completion, who keep their potatoes from touching their brocolli… know thyself, and use the knowledge.

Final push

I need to know what I’m going toward; I need to know my next project.

My current project is the last draft of an adult novel. In September it’ll be three years since starting this work. But a handful of months ago, I began researching and writing my next, a middle-grade historical novel. For the first time in this over-lapping process of mine, I wrote close to seventy pages as well as hours of reading. Then set it aside to complete the adult novel, which requires all of my focus at this point. (Though I’m open to what comes.)

I am looking forward to returning to that MG work. I need to be building enthusiasm and ideas for it and—perhaps mostly—I need for subconscious gestation to be happening. I know from experience now that when I do return to those pages and that research, I will have processed a significant piece of story-building, and my characters will have inhabited my mind—back drawer as it is—enough to seem real to me. They’re building their selves somewhere… It’s a bit mystical. And sometimes best not to question.

But do follow urges—urges are borne of the sub-conscious. Don’t let that go to waste. Even if you don’t fully understand, nurture the thing knocking at your door. Leave out a bowl of water. Maybe food. And the door open a crack.

Photo by Trevor McKinnon on Unsplash