All forms of planning begin by defining your ideal outcome. Without this definition clearly stated up front, it is easy to get lost in the details and perils of whatever project you are planning.
Writing a book is no different, and yet I don’t think I’m alone among writers, or perhaps artists in general, when I say I probably give this part of the process the least amount of thought. Which is ironic, because visualizing exactly what you want the outcome to be may not only mean the difference between success and failure, it may mean the difference between happiness and emptiness. You might finish your project having wildly succeeded at a secondary goal yet tragically failed to achieve your ultimate ideal.
People write books for many different reasons. Your ideal outcome may be to write a best-seller, to make a lot of money, to write the best romance/mystery/western noir ever, to inspire other writers, to inspire readers to change their lives, to illuminate an injustice in the world, to share some deep, secret part of yourself, to entertain the masses, to entertain your family, to entertain yourself, to meet new and interesting people, the list could go on and on. Your ideal is probably some combination of several of these, but there will be one key thing that supersedes everything else. This doesn’t mean you can’t simultaneously entertain yourself and write a best-seller. It just means that one of these drive your decision making, while the other will be along for the ride.
The pitfall of not understanding the difference is that without a firm grasp on where you want your writing to take you, you might (for example) end up a huge success, a bestselling author with all the fame and money you can shake a stick at. But along the way, you might lose sight of the fact that your driving ideal was to write as part of a community. Blinded by fame, you might lose contact with the other writers (not rich and famous) who you no longer have time for. You might, perhaps, end up alone and unhappy. Or, let’s play the other side of the coin, you might really, really, in your heart want to be a famous author. But because everyone else is saying, f*** fame, that’s uncool, you should just eat ramen and make art with us, you might lose sight of a goal that is really important to you. Other people’s opinions can come between you and yourself in a variety of ways.
In short, understanding why you’re ultimately doing this is really, really important. It’s an important part of planning at any level because planning is all about decision-making, and as I stated above the ideal should be driving the decision-making.
Discovering the ideal that is driving me has been a convoluted process, but I just recently pinned it down. I think if I had sat down and done some serious thinking about it, I probably could have done it in an afternoon rather than fifteen years. If I could do it all over again, here’s what I would do:
1. Ask yourself what outcomes you’d like to materialize from the process of writing a book (or writing in general), and make a list. Be as specific as possible. There may be a lot of things on the list and they may all seem equally important, but don’t panic. If you’re having a hard time coming up with a list, skip to step two and then make a list of things related to the visualization.
2. Ok, here things get a little new-agey so skip this step if it seems too flaky to you. Sit somewhere quiet and comfortable and try to visualize your ultimate ideal outcome. Maybe you’ll see the perfect book you’ve written, with a gorgeous cover and a gushing Kirkus review on the front. Maybe you’ll see yourself sitting at your desk writing away in bliss. Maybe you’ll see yourself doing a reading in Barnes and Noble with a signing line out the door. Maybe you’ll see yourself on a panel at a conference, inspiring other writers. Pick the image or two that resonates best and jot down a short description.
3. Now, return to your list and cross off whatever seems really distant from that image. (If you skipped the visualization, just spend some time now prioritizing the list.) The goal here is to narrow the list down to a few options, say less than five. Remember, we’re not discounting the importance of the other reasons, just trying to find the ultimate one.
4. Once you have a manageable number of outcomes, pick two and pose the question: if I had to choose between these two, which one would I choose? Obviously, this is hypothetical; these kinds of ultimatums probably won’t exist in the real world–but if they do, you’ll be ready for them. Cross off the one that loses out and continue until you have just one contender left.
5. If you’re feeling type-A you might spend some time listing all the possible obstacles to that outcome. If you’re flaky like me you might want to do some more visualization to really nail down the image associated with the outcome.
So, you might be wondering what my ultimate ideal is? Somewhat surprisingly, since I’ve always knew I wanted to be a career author, being a bestseller or making a living is not my ultimate goal (although I do want that as well). The outcome that supersedes all others for me is mastery of the form. I want to learn how the masters write the best epic fantasy available today, and then I want to innovate on the form to write groundbreaking epic fantasy. And then I want to keep growing as a fantasy author, never to stagnate as some artists do when they reach mastery of their form, but to keep pushing the envelope all my life.
What about you? What’s your ultimate, specific ideal?
