This morning, I opened my blog to discover a writing friend of my mine had asked some good questions about my outlining process and if I could shed a bit more light on it. Knowing that my process will differ from anybody else's and that what I have to say will more than likely be read and discarded like a new pair of shoes that don't fit, I decided to do it. Why? Because knowledge is power, and the more knowledge that someone absorbs the larger the chance they may settle on something that might work for them—or if not settle on something that works, evolve that something into something that does, kind of like taking those shoes that don't fit and stretching the leather until it fits comfortably.

Writing is a constant evolution. I learn something new every time I sit down and place the tips of my fingers on their starting keyboard row. With outlining, it is the same. Definitely take this blog post with a large grain of salt as even I am still coming to terms with much of my craft's process.

Most people who visit here have read the Prologue and Chapter One from my first novel, Song of the Fell Hammer. I am loathe to post parts of my outline that extend beyond these two chapters because I don't want to spoil anything. But I will do my best, and my best—invariably—will simply lead to more questions.

Here is the beginning outline for Song of the Fell Hammer, including one extra chapter:

Prologue: Godwyn Keep, the faith center for the Kingdom, is under attack. Pontiff Garethe leads Pontifex Dendreth to prevent the theft of an important item from the Vault. They fail to stop the thieves, and the Pontiff is mortally wounded.

Chapter 1: Sorin, an apprenticing blacksmith, attends a church service in town; the pastor is not himself—he raves about a prophetic dream. Sorin becomes uneasy after noticing three shady men outside a local inn staring at him intently. Dragons migrate out of season toward the west.

Chapter 2: Sorin finishes a special metal project to deliver as a gift in town. His father, Arvel, asks him to return soon. Sorin stays too long and upon returning, smells smoke in the forest and realizes it might be coming from his home.

Now, imagine 40 more three-line "stanzas" just like the ones above. That is what my outline looks like. Each stanza shows the important elements of the chapter (the who, the what, and the action), those most important to push the story along. By writing those elements down and thinking my way through it, my novel doesn't slow in any one part really; instead the story has a gradual build-up.

You may ask that all important question, "Well, where does the fodder for these stanzas come from, Shawn?" I can only say that each chapter, in my mind at least, has a normal progression from what has come before to the point way down the line that I have already imagined in my head as the climax. That "build-up" I mentioned in the previous paragraph comes naturally and I doubt that can be taught. It, like so many other natural creative pursuits, can't be taught but it can be sharpened.

Once I have constructed the entire outline and I am satisfied that each point of view character has been given 1) enough play time, and 2) their story arc is complete and does have bearing on the outcome of the book, then I can start writing. But there is even another process I go through that helps me immeasurably and I'll try to speak to that also.

I've discovered my chapters range from 5000-6000 words. Every day, I write between 1500-2500 words, depending on the material and my mood. Normally I can write a chapter in four days but sometimes it can be three or five. That means, really, a standard work week per chapter.

On the weekends, I think about the next chapter I am going to write. No, I don't sit in front of a window and stare dreamily outside. I go about my normal weekend activities, which range from spending time with my girlfriend to exercising to enjoying a good meal or watching a movie. During the midst of these other activities, my mind is always focused on my book. I wish it were different at times—it can be extremely distracting to be staring blankly into space when someone asks what drink I want with dinner—but it is rewarding as I am constantly at work and at play with my story. It is during these times I think about the stuff I haven't thought of for the next chapter. Usually on Sunday, in the morning, is when the most fun work happens.

Because it is Sunday morning when I let all my thinking of the next chapter fall onto the page in a stream of consciousness manner. The bare bones of the chapter are already there in my outline—the one I showed above—so keeping to that I fill the chapter in. It can be bits of dialogue, extended conversations, setting stuff, pacing, etc. All of this comes out in a menagerie of blurbs and quick suggestions. I usually have three or four pages of this very loose chapter outline before I come to the chapter's end.

On Monday, I start writing to that extended chapter outline. I tend to have even more thoughts as I write it, and by the end of the week I am finished. And during the weekend, the process starts over for me.

The second part of the outlining process, the one I just recounted where I throw down ideas into the actual chapter file before I start writing it, is a part of the process I will not show. Just as Terry Brooks won't show his outlining process, it would be inane for me to show you guys the mess of the chapter's outline. It really is haphazard and would not help anyone become a better writer by looking at it. To see the jagged, unsmoothed parts of my chapter's outline would not help—just know I sit down and write little bits and pieces of the chapter's story I see in my mind and then work to meld it all together.

I think ultimately the most important piece in all of this is that the writer approaches the craft as a process and not something that just magically happens. And that isn't to say that magic doens't happen; the magic happens between the lines, but the construct is what takes discipline.

And as always, I am open to questions.