31 Lessons From Writing a Novel in 90 Days
+ 18 months of triumph, agony,
self-doubt, and ultimately—joy
I’m living proof that it’s possible to write a novel in 90 days.
And while I have zero regrets, there are things I would do differently after spending the last 1.5 years revising (Though let’s be honest—by now it’s a f*cking rewrite.)
Because the first draft is just an organized brain dump of ideas. Then you eagerly share it with your family and friends, and they make patronizing remarks like, “Oh my god, I can’t believe you did this while raising a toddler!” And then you question the time spent when you could have been doing the laundry, or doing work that pays the bills. Whether your writing is good enough.
Whether you’re good enough.
But then you discover that how the universe unfolds in mysterious ways when you state your intention—like meeting your editor at the park on a random Sunday morning. That isolating yourself in a cabin in the woods only leads to more problems with your story and life—which is how months stretch into years, leading your loved ones to asking, but not really wanting the answer to:
So how’s the book going?
The good news? After speaking with other writers, I know that my path isn’t unusual (and even if it was, who cares? It’s my journey.) But if you’ve always wanted to write a book and overwhelmed by the amount of work required, here are 31 lessons I’ve learned, 2 years later.
Beliefs & Mindset 🧠
1. There’s no such thing as, “I don’t have time.”
I have yet to meet a writer—kids or no kids, full-time job or freelance—that feels they have enough time to work on a book. I certainly didn’t, with a nursing toddler and a roster of clients. And yet, you keep daydreaming. And wondering. Until one day you realize…
2. You and only you can tell this story.
The funny thing about stories is that they don’t appear out of thin air. They’re cultivated, from a seed of an idea through a conversation with a friend or a song on the radio. And then you analyze similar-sounding books and movies, thinking that surely, someone has had the same idea.
And sure, there are similarities, but it’s still not exactly the way you would write it. So you:
3. Draft a few scenes.
…and realize that you are a shitty writer. Because (shocker!) no one rolls out of the womb with an innate talent for writing. So you…
4. Start getting to know your characters.
A story isn’t a story without someone to root for. My college RPG days taught me to build a character profile, but you can do this by simply answering four questions:
Who is my protagonist?
What do they want?
Why do they want it?
What’s going to happen if they don’t get it?
Then, you can:
5. Write an outline.
Because inspiration can only take you so far. I thought I was being clever by fashioning my own outline (which led to a smattering of scenes written out of order). If I had to do it again, I would use Jennie Nash’s Inside Outline.
Goals & Habits 🎯
6. Set writing goals.
The average word count of a fiction manuscript is 75,000, or:
1,000 words written for 75 consecutive days.
500 words written for 150 consecutive days
250 words for 300 consecutive days
Once you see the arithmetic broken down by days, it’s easy to understand how months can stretch into years. But like all new habits, it’s best to be honest with what you can deliver on, and increase your word count from there. All the while keeping in mind…
7. The first draft always sucks.
My editor Lisa Rose compares writing the first draft of a book to chipping off the side of a mountain. It’s hard work! But after it’s done, it’s still just a giant slab of rock. You have to hone and polish the stone and eventually, if you’re good, you get a rough approximation of the Statue of David.
8. …and if you make it through, celebrate the win.
This is when you start believing that this experiment might actually become something more than just a passion project. Naturally, your friends and family are curious about how you’ve spent your time. So they ask to read a copy. And you quickly discover…
9. 95% of feedback is useless.
Even if you Google “beta reader questions” and give them a form to fill out, they will mostly ignore it and fixate on typos and mundane details. It’s not their fault—even the most avid readers only see finished books with covers on the shelf of a Barnes and Noble, not in-progress manuscripts. So you get the idea to…
10. Hire an editor.
Except you’ll discover none of them wants to touch your book with a ten-foot-pole. This could be for a few reasons. They want time to work on their own stories. They hate yours, but wouldn’t mind the cash. Or they make a snap judgment based on a 30-minute conversation that it’s not worth the effort to get your story in the right shape according to their standards.
It’s your “Aha!” moment to discovering…
DIY & Exercise 🏋🏻
11. It’s a relationship, not a transaction.
To believe that an editor (or coach or critique partner or agent) is going to buy into your book from the first draft is a recipe for disappointment. It requires mutual accountability and trust and your willingness to make revisions to your plot; as well as their willingness to coach you.
Until then, roll up your sleeves and pick up a book on plot structure. Except…
12. There is no such thing as a perfect framework. Study them all.
You’d think with all the writing books out there claiming their way is the best way, someone would call them out. Instead, we hoard them all, hoping and praying the next one will be the one that takes our story to the next level.
Some are better than others, obviously. Here are the ones I reference regularly.
13. Send a newsletter. (Or post on social media. Pick your marketing poison.)
Not everyone’s going to want to read your book, but you will quickly tire of giving individual updates. Even if most of your followers are people you already know, it will get you in the habit of reflecting on your own work, plus give you a break between revisions. Because if you sit with a story long enough, you’re going to…
14. Start hating your characters.
I knew my protagonists became real people when my iPhone started auto-correcting to their names. Don’t panic when you’re revising a scene and start hearing your character scream, “That’s not what I would do it at all!”
15. Just because you outlined it doesn’t mean you have to follow it.
You’ve read the craft books and filled out your beat sheets. And yet—something feels off. So you write it again. And then rewrite it. And pretty soon, you’ve written six versions of the first two chapters and can’t make your mind and what the hell is going on?
Health, Wealth, &
Relationships 👨👩👧
16. If you don’t have a regular movement practice, now’s the time to start one.
I constantly tell my writer friends that most of my best insights come from sitting on the yoga mat. There’s something beautiful about not knowing the answer; and putting the question in the background mode of your brain—emerging the next hour with a sliver of perspective.
Of course it doesn’t have to be yoga. Go for a walk, lift weights, sign up for a dance class. The point isn’t to be a world-class athlete. The point is to suck so badly that when you sit at your desk to write; you feel like a genius.
17. Initiate regular check-ins with your partner.
Because they’re probably irritated with your continual disappearing to write for hours on end. Note: It’s not that they’re not supportive, it’s because they want to support you, but don’t have the slightest clue how. At some point, you will need to renegotiate agreements about childcare and jobs and domestic support in the mix and it’s better to do it now before irritation transforms to resentment.
18. Keep track of your financial runway.
This is also the stage where you might dial back your client work, or explore the options of taking a sabbatical from your day job. Think of your manuscript like an early-stage startup—you’re still trying to achieve product-market fit. So it’s important to give yourself space to create, while also being mindful of how much you’re spending and bringing in each month.
My husband is the personal finance guru in our house, and these are his favorite books on the subject.
19. Invest in success.
While you can certainly live like Henry Miller in Tropic of Cancer, there are certain things make my writing practice a little more comfortable. Here are some of my favorite products and subscriptions.
20. Make friends with other writers.
By now, you should feel comfortable discussing your book. Maybe you stumble on your words when people ask for a summary. But if you’ve been diligent about writing every day and publishing a newsletter or regular updates to social media, it shouldn’t feel as terrifying to call yourself a writer.
And occasionally, they introduce you to other people who are also writing a book—some in the beginning stages, others further along in the journey. Be open to conversations. Get curious about why they’re telling their stories.
Handling Writer’s Block 🤯
21. Ask yourself, “What am I trying to say about the world with this book?”
Because at this stage of your writing, it should be less about you, and more to do with your reader. Which is why…
22. If you haven’t settled on a genre, now is a good time.
Let me be clear: I hate labels. But readers are inundated with book recommendations, and genres help agents understand how to sell the book to a publisher, as well as give the publisher some semblance of an idea of where your book will sit on the shelf of a store. This is important even if you’re planning to self-publish (because Amazon asks you to assign a genre to assist with their search algorithm).
Can’t decide? Choose 3-5 of your favorite books or comps. Write down everything you like and dislike about each, and how your book will add to the conversation those authors started.
23. Start the drafting process. Again.
But this time, you have a frame of reference (by way of your genre) and much more knowledge about how to build a compelling plot. This time, you notice a subtle difference—the word count is less than before, but the words are crisp and more polished.
Now you’re getting somewhere.
24. Share sooner than later.
Remember those writers you talked to earlier? Now you have a built-in group of critique partners. So share a few chapters of your work-in-progress and…
25. Promptly shut it down.
You will quickly discover that writers less further along in the process will put you on a pedestal and lament about their lack of progress, and more established writers will project their past problems onto your manuscript. Again, this isn’t their fault—most of us aren’t trained to give feedback in a way that doesn’t make the recipient feel like a sack of garbage.
Seeing The Bigger Picture 🏞
26. Cultivate an (even smaller) group of trusted critique partners.
By now, you should know of people who give feedback you can take action on—they’re critical but kind, and share your goal in making your story the best it can be.
At the same time…
27. Pay it forward.
Just because you received a soul-crushing critique doesn’t mean you have the right to dish right back. I follow the Toastmasters sandwich approach:
Accentuate the positives
Choose ONE thing that can be improved—and follow it up with questions instead of statements.
End with what you liked best