The Writer’s Quest: How to Write a Book, Part Three

Step Three – Crossing the (First) Threshold

“All you have to do is walk straight at the barrier between platforms nine and ten … Best do it at a bit of a run if you’re nervous.”

Harry Potter finds himself on the precipice of his new adventure as he searches for Platform 9¾ at London’s King’s Cross station in Harry Potter and The Sorcerer's Stone. He’s been shaken out of his dreary life, told he is a wizard, finds out he’s rich, and acquires a full slate of school supplies for a year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Now, all that’s left for him to do is take the final step—to pass from the Ordinary World to one that’s extraordinary.

The entrance is hidden (naturally), but once Harry has solved that problem with the help of some new friends, he still has to make the choice to cross over to the other side. It’s a leap of faith. Harry has little idea what waits for him on the other side of that train station wall. But that’s what makes it an adventure!

Similarly, you stand upon the threshold of your own adventure—writing a book. You’ve heard the call, the smoldering desire in your heart to write down your story, you’ve met a mentor to guide you through this process, and you’ve made your map. Now, this is it. This is the First Threshold. All that remains is for you to take that initial step into the Great Unknown. Like Samwise Gamgee, you can say, “If I take one more step, it'll be the farthest away from home I've ever been.”

So, how do you cross the threshold? What’s the first step? Start writing your book.

You may have done some writing on your book before. Maybe you worked on some scenes that interested you at the time, or detailed character backgrounds and plot summaries. All of those things are good, but they were simply brief sojourns out into the wider world before returning to the comfort of home.

But no longer. Now is the time to commit to the adventure.

One Foot in Front of the Other

Your writing journey is a commitment, and commitment equals time. Therefore, your first challenge will be to carve out a consistent time to write. It’s a puzzle only you can solve. I can’t do it for you. Neither can anyone else.

Like most people, your schedule is probably quite busy. But you’d be surprised at the time you can find if you’re really looking for it. And here’s the beauty of it—each writer has their own unique pace. You do, too. It doesn’t matter if you have fifteen minutes or five hours a day to commit to your writing. The key is to find that time and be consistent with it.

Consistency is Key

Look at it this way—you’re on a journey, and you have to walk one hundred miles to reach your ultimate destination. How much you walk a day is up to you, your unique pace. You may walk a mile a day, you may walk ten. But if you’re consistent in how much you travel each day, you’ll reach your journey’s end. The only way you won’t reach your destination is if you start and stop, get frustrated and give up.

I promise you can do this. You can transmute that raw idea in your head into a real, fleshed-out thing you can hold in your hands. But you have to commit to writing as much as you can as often as you can. Set a daily (or weekly) goal and stick to it.

Set a Goal That Works for You

Currently, I try to write at least six (Times New Roman, 12-point font, double-spaced) pages a day, five days a week. It’s a goal I ripped off from Stephen King. He’s a prolific writer, to say the least, and I want to push myself to make consistent progress on whatever I’m writing.

Now, am I saying that you have to write six pages a day on whatever you’re working on? Not at all! You need to do what works best for you. You may write less; you may write more. Shoot, you might find that “pages” aren’t a good goal for you. You’ve got to work with what your schedule allows—so time might be your goal.

Is that fifteen minutes a day, five times a week? Or an hour on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday? Whatever you decide, stick to it. But I’d recommend no less than three writing sessions per week. Why? Because the more often you’re working on your writing (even if it’s just for fifteen minutes), the more your mind will be thinking about it while you’re not writing. Anything less than that makes it hard to make writing a habit, in my opinion. A four-hour writing session once a month won’t be as productive as a consistent writing pattern of fifteen minutes a day.

Here's an important note, though: don’t beat yourself up over missing a day or even a week here and there. Life gets busy, and there’s nothing wrong with sacrificing writing time for more important things like family when you need to. Just get back into your writing pattern as soon as you can and keep moving forward.

Your First Draft is Just for You

Now, as you stand upon the threshold, foot raised to take that first step on your new adventure, a voice in the back of your mind might be calling out to you.

“Wait!” it says. “You haven’t figured out every word, every detail of your story! You haven’t even figured out your theme yet! Don’t start on your journey just yet—give it a little more time and a little more thought. There’s always tomorrow/next week/month/year. Don’t start on your story until it’s perfect.”

Here’s the thing: your story will never be perfect. No amount of time or cleverness will change that—it’s simply part of the human condition. Your story will never be perfect, but it can be great. But greatness isn’t achieved by simply thinking about something, it requires doing something.

And that’s the problem with that little, niggling voice telling you “Wait! Hold up! Don’t be hasty!” If you listen to it, you will never start writing, not really. Because it will never be satisfied. It will always find a reason to delay.

Here’s a little secret that changed my perspective on writing: your first draft is supposed to be bad. It’s your first foray into a largely mysterious land. There will be bumps in the road, and wrong turns that looked so right. But that’s okay! That’s part of the process.

Just write, just get something out of your head and on paper. Because then you can do something with it. Then you can improve it. You won’t be able to fix it if it only ever stays in your head. You only learn the road by traveling it. No one needs to see your story when it’s fresh out of your mind. Your first draft is for your eyes only. Who cares if it’s bad? So were the first drafts of a lot of great stories. So shed the pressure of perceived perfection and take action!

Take that step across the threshold and into the extraordinary world that awaits you!

To start reading the Writer's Quest from Part One, click here.

Copyright © 2024 by Alan Eckelberry. All rights reserved.