How books are like kids . . . or, do you plot? Or not?

On the Pink Heart Society blog yesterday (look for Saturday's post) Natasha Oakley wrote about writing styles. Not about styles of words on the page, but styles of getting words on the page.

She divided writers into plotters and pantsers -- those who figure things out ahead of time, have their plot well in hand and then write the book, and those who wake up one morning and say, "I guess I'll write a book," and sit down and start -- and finish following their muse that way.

Which am I?

Guess.

Actually, the truth is that I write every book the way it seems to want to be written. This may sound like a cop-out -- and there may be some truth to that assumption -- but after 58 of the little suckers, I have to say that no two have ever been set to paper the same way. They're like children -- every one of them is different. You can do some things the same with every one -- you can have certain core values you want to impart. But some kids take a subtle approach and others need to be hit over the head with a 2 by 4 to get the point. I have some of both.

If I'd had only one kid I'd have thought I was an exemplary parent.

The first kid, believe me, was a breeze. Hint at appropriate behavior and that was all you needed to do. The second kid kept me awake at night for years. And not only when he was little and wouldn't sleep through the night. On the contrary, he slept like a rock. It was when he was a teenager I lay awake at night and wondered what the heck he was doing. Some books are like that, too.

Some books -- like another one of my kids -- never shut up and tell you everything you want to know about what they are thinking and feeling at the moment (he knows who he is). And with others you need to sit quietly and listen to the silence with them for hours -- and hours -- and then maybe you will get the faintest whisper of what they're all about. We have one of those kids, too.

So as a writer -- and as a parent -- I learned to do what I had to do. One book wanted me to write the whole thing and then figure out what was really going on. Another seemed to dictate itself in a short breezy paragraph after paragraph fashion that, when I stopped and closely, turned out to be one paragraph per scene for the whole book (easiest book I ever wrote). Another wanted me to divide up the view points and put them on pink and blue file cards. But none of the others has ever wanted to use the rest of those cards -- though one did require lime green and bright yellow cards to get from beginning to end.


When I wrote The Great Montana Cowboy Auction I had four story lines to keep straight. As I generally can't even remember what I wrote yesterday, I had to track down some software to make myself a cheat sheet for this book. I used a program called Writer's Blocks. It's a nifty program -- but not all my stories seem to like it.

Why? Who knows?

As my grandmother would say, "It's just the way they are, dear." My grandmother was a wise woman.

This new book with Flynn and Sara, presuming it becomes a book at all, is a whole new child just waiting to be understood. Right now I feel like I'm gathering bits and pieces of the puzzle as they fly by. Walking the dogs seems to help. Pieces come to me while I'm wandering along behind them.

It's always interesting getting the feel of a new book. Rather like a new baby. Only -- fortunately -- books don't take 18 years to grow up!