Greetings everyone!

Over the past few years I’ve had the
pleasure of corresponding with many of you, but recently I’ve been unable to
keep up with all the questions. I thought the best way to stay in touch would
be a blog post that gives in-depth answers to the questions I get most often.
Sometimes the real difficulty as a reader is not knowing the details of what is
happening – or if anything is happening at all! I’ll do my best to give
clarity, and hopefully dispel any misgivings on that last point.

Let’s begin. Perhaps the question that
(understandably) gets asked the most is:

Q1. Why on earth is book 2 of The Wakening taking so long???

In short,
there are three reasons. The main reason is the length of the book, the second
is a delayed start due to the post-release demands of book 1, and the third is
the personal challenge of settling into a writing career. I think this question
deserves a detailed answer, so I’ll give each part a good chunk of space.

Q1,
part 1. About the book

The sequel
to Dawn of Wonder has grown into an exceptionally long book. At around 415,000
words, it’s longer than anything by epic writers like Jordan, Rothfuss, Hobb,
Erikson, Feist, or King, and longer than anything by Sanderson except Oathbringer.

Most people don’t relate to word count, but unfortunately, page count isn’t a reliable measure because different layouts can hold anywhere from 200 to 500 words on a page, sometimes breaking even those limits. There are many books on the digital shelves reporting massive page counts when the audiobooks (which can’t be stretched the same way) are of average length. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with low word densities – they are easy on the eye – but it makes comparisons problematic.

It’s still possible to give some idea of page count using standard industry prints. If I use the word-density of popular mass-market paperbacks by Jordan or Hobb, book 2 would end up at around 1,280 pages. For interest, if I were to use the lower densities seen in the same genre, it would end up at well over 3,000 pages. I think that illustrates the problem with this metric. For better or worse, there is a page limit of 1050 with the best indie printing option, so I’ll be confined to the more expensive 6×9 format which fits more words on the page.

If word count still means nothing to you, a few benchmarks might help: Novels take over from the shorter novellas at 40,000 words, and most novels are between 70,000 – 110,000, averaging around 90,000. Fantasy novels, according to most publisher references I’ve looked at, tend to be 90,000 – 120,000, occasionally reaching past 180,000 words. Publishers don’t generally like such long books because the profits are small. Recently, a few well-known fantasy authors have published several books over 250 000 words, occasionally passing the 400,000 mark. But there are not many of these, and they fall into a very small category of extraordinarily long books. A volume of 415,000 words – my current manuscript – contains more than 4 ½ average novels.

I had
originally intended to get the book out in two years, but when it more or less
doubled in size, it also began to develop a breadth that required far more
world building than originally estimated. I’d always thought of book 2 as the
lightest of the books in the series, a fast-paced adventure, but not an epic
world-building project. It was supposed to be something of a break for its
author. But book 2, it appears, had plans of its own. The difference between
what I set out to write and what the story has grown into has taken me entirely
by surprise. I often feel a little overawed when I look up at this giant
towering over my desk, flexing its arms. Don’t get me wrong – I’m elated with
what I’m seeing, but it has meant a great deal more work than anticipated.

Well, if it is so long, isn’t it bloated? you might ask. Bloat isn’t the reason for the size. I’ve actually done a great deal of trimming. It’s big because there is A LOT that happens. This is the length that allows the reader to dive into the adventure and journey with the characters. It’s also the length that lets a tight plot breathe and gives space for us to see the world of the story awaken a little more. Just like a panoramic shot is the best way to capture some mountain ranges, long books are the best way to tell some stories.

It’s occasionally suggested that I split the book up, but as I’ve mentioned before, it just wouldn’t be right for this series. I feel that each of these books needs to complete a cycle. There’s a difference between ending with anticipation and cutting off in mid-stride. Splitting this book would feel like the latter. With a split, I would be able to reduce the waiting time to half, and each half of the book would still be longer than most epic fantasy novels. But length isn’t what makes a volume seem complete, and this one holds together well at its current length. When I even consider slicing the book apart, it’s as if it raises an eyebrow, steps forwards, and says, “Really? Let’s see you try that.”

Book 2 is also a vastly different kind of book to the first and has required more work per page. Apart from the fact that it’s a whole new culture in a section of the world that is quite foreign to me (unlike the settings in the first book that were easier to relate to and build from memory), I’ve also had to learn a great deal before being able to pen many of the sections. Some of this has been knowledge in various technical fields, but there are other aspects that have to do with abilities rather than research. An example would be learning to better represent female characters – which is crucial to the heart of the story. (This is the reason why I chose female leads for my thesis book).

Often the story that begins a series is a variant of the coming-of-age or coming-of-ability/identity themes. Authors are equipped to write them simply by having grown up – hopefully. But moving along with the story after this phase can bring about a need for skills or tools that might not have been necessary earlier on. Many of you have written to warn me about sequels that feel rough-hewn or work as “skinny bridges” to the next book, and it is one of the things that motivated me to grow the toolset instead of just hacking out the new and tricky shapes I wasn’t altogether equipped for.

The question about the time being taken is
sometimes asked like this: If other
writers can produce books in shorter times, why not you?

To make the question applicable, we’d need to eliminate short books, long books that don’t represent a standard you’d want to read, books from other genres that take less work such as children’s books, and authors with experience who have their whole production process set up.

But even then, the question implies
something that’s not altogether true, namely, that a competent or conscientious
author would write fast. Here are three quick examples I saw on my shelves. After
the Hobbit was released, Lord of the Rings, which is about 455,000 words long,
took 12 years to write and another 5 for all the changes and edits – 17 years.
The original Earthsea trilogy was
four years in the making, but the total length is just under 164,000 words.
That pace equates to ten years on my manuscript. The Last Unicorn, considered by Rothfuss to be the best book he has
ever read, took Beagle 6 years to write, though it’s not even 70,000 words
long. That would result in 36 years spent on book 2 of The Wakening. Beagle actually spent 18 years on his next book!

Before you worry that I’m settling in for a few decades of leisurely revision, let me say that I’m not making a case for extreme time frames, but I do recognise that some of the most competent authors, of whom there are many more examples, wrote very slowly and carefully when producing some of our best books. Time spent away from the manuscript on other things, even other projects, was undoubtedly part of the process – allowing new ideas to germinate, enabling them to return with fresh inspiration and clear perspective. But whatever the particular routine, it’s clear that, for them, it wasn’t a dash to the finish.

There’s no standard speed out there when
quality is the goal. Sometimes great books have been written in one unbroken sprint,
but it’s not common, especially not with long manuscripts. Rushing has produced
many a forgettable book – and I’m all too aware that I am not above producing
one of those. On the opposite extreme is something that takes so long to launch
that by the time the curtains open for the great reveal, most people have gone
home. So with the needs of the book and of the readership in mind, I am doing
my utmost to produce the best sequel I can as quickly as I am able.

Q1, part
2. About the stages since book 1

The initial release of Dawn of Wonder was in May 2015, but this being my first book, I learned a lot from the feedback. I began work on the sequel but was soon pulled back to the first book, revising, correcting, adding chapters and re-doing the no-budget graphics. The new versions of front and back covers just didn’t look right when trying to assemble them from stock images, so I worked with a 3D-modelling company to build Kultûhm and the stone giant according to the text, with film-style graphics. It took a long time (and a lot of money), but the result is an actual glimpse of a scene in the story rather than a loose approximation.

Here are the early and later stages in building the elements to match the text:

Around
this time, I found it necessary to put a few months into marketing – the
unpleasant side of being an independent author, but necessary if you want to write
full time. Just when everything settled down, I signed an audiobook contract
which led to a new vein of preparation and revision.

There
are certain unique requirements for audiobooks. A well-known example is the
need for speech attributers. When looking at a page, a new line lets you know
when speakers have changed, but when listening, the modification of a narrator’s
tone or accent isn’t always enough to convey the switch of speakers, especially
when the two in conversation have similar voices or accents. You can end up
getting completely lost, not knowing who is speaking, hence the need to revise
with this and other points in mind.

The work on
book 1 finally ended when the last format (audiobook) was released in Feb 2016.

The rest of 2016 and 2017 were put into the
manuscript of book 2. After a good start to the following year, problems with my
work environment became intrusive (mentioned in the previous 2 posts).
Accordingly, I drew up plans for a home renovation which could be done quickly
and without my involvement. Some of you will be smiling pitying smiles at my
naivety. No, it wasn’t quick, and I wasn’t allowed to stay out of it. After
three months of disruptions, it was starting to look as if I’d given the
contractors lifetime employment. The money was vanishing and the house wasn’t
appearing. I was heading for bankruptcy and homelessness. In desperation, I dived
in and finally ended up managing the whole project, regularly pushing 90-100
hour weeks to hurry things along. In the end, it took almost 3 times longer
than promised and would probably still be going if I hadn’t taken over.

In all, I’ve had around 2 ½ years to work on book 2, meaning that if it had been similar in length to book 1, it would probably already be on the shelves.

Q1, part
3. About settling into a writing career

I didn’t know that second-book syndrome was actually a thing until I experienced it. (A Cloud in Her Eye, though it had to be finished before book 2, was actually started after it, so it’s always felt like a third book.) I thought the writing of a second book would be easier than the first. It’s not the case. With the first book there’s no pressure. With the second, there was more pressure than I’ve ever known for anything else.

It’s a
little like pacing behind the stage curtain, trying to memorise lines that were
just handed to you. You can hear the eager murmur of hundreds of voices on the
other side of the cloth, and the stage manager keeps telling you to hurry up
because they’re about to start and he wants to kick off with a roll of the
kettle drums. You consider asking him if it’s possible to swallow kettle drums,
because if he interrupts you again he’s going to find out. Then someone parts
the curtains to look for her mum and there’s a sudden shushing of the crowd.
You stare at your page, hovering over the first word, realising with an
upwelling of doom that you can no longer read English. Death by mortification presses
in, and just as you steel yourself for one last desperate attempt, the stage
manager pops up and says, “Kettle drum roll?”

Even though anticipation is good, it comes at a price. The pressure of second book syndrome has shipwrecked many an author’s follow-up. I get a constant stream of messages begging me not to let the same thing happen to this series. Reading about the issue has helped a great deal. Knowing that it’s real is the first step towards dealing with it. I’ve found getting over it to be similar to the process of acclimatising. At first, the pressure robs you of your ability to focus, leaves you dizzy and even nauseous. Concentration is a fraction of what it was. In the early stages, it was nearly impossible to return to the same stillness in which I wrote book 1. But slowly I’ve adapted and grown used to the new normal.

The new workspace has had a far bigger impact than expected. Perhaps, because of my forest-mountain-horseback childhood, the feeling of space has helped to unlock my imagination and uncramp my thoughts.

I recently moved an old school desk up to my library loft where I’ve started working. This is what it feels like: (without the all-too-likely fog of ravenous mosquitoes)

I’ve always
loved heights – almost as much as climbs required to reach them. This little
raised perch in the library gives just enough elevation to make it feel like an
escape, a secret place where long hours of work are actually invigorating.

It took time to adapt to the pressure – and it’s been a dynamic adaptation because, every day, the pressure is a little more. Even early on, I was getting emails from people saying they would never buy another book from me because I made them wait too long. Apparently anything over 18 months is considered unacceptable by some readers. (This is where page count is my enemy because books a third of the length, that can be written in a third of the time, are often stretched over 800 or more pages, making them appear similar in length.) When you’re sweating blood at the keyboard, messages like that are profoundly counter-productive, having a similar effect to a hail of bricks – and I often get several in a week. While I really do understand the frustration behind those emails, I know it doesn’t help if I let that kind of feedback dictate my state of mind. At first it did, and it slowed me down by creating a panicked haste that completely undermined creative focus. But I’ve got better at shrugging off the bricks and carrying on.

Since starting work in the new library, I’ve finally settled down and discovered that quiet place again. I’m not only able to write with clear focus for long hours, but I wake up every morning looking forward to it. This acclimatisation, aided in no small part by the workspace, has been a central part of the battle for the sequel.

Q2. What does your routine look like? Is there a problem with work ethic?

I can see where this question is going. If
there’s no one to watch over a writer, wouldn’t he fill his days with tele and YouTube
and social networks, writing it off as “research” because he’s learning about
stuff – people and places and cool ways to frighten cats and other things which
might come into a scene one day – proving that it was all an investment.

As with several friends who work for
themselves, driving myself to burnout is far more of a problem for me than a
lack of motivation or a bad work ethic. Following a fairly severe burnout, I settled
on an average of 8 or 9 hours a day on the manuscript. Beyond that, the
creativity starts to lose its freshness. Occasionally, when on a roll, I’ll
work much longer, but that can adversely affect the next day.

Writing isn’t like any of the other jobs I’ve
done where I can maintain 14-hour days for months without dropping standards.
Writing doesn’t just leave you tired, it leaves you empty. Pulling out words
faster than you can regrow them results in half-formed, mediocre prose, no
matter how fiercely you urge yourself on. There are times an author is bursting
with inspiration, writing for days or weeks almost without sleep, but nobody
sustains that for long without serious consequences. It’s usually the project
that suffers the most.

My weeks are structured to squeeze out the greatest volume of good words possible without compromising the following week’s work. In the final stages of editing, I can push the hours because the work tends to be more corrective and less creative, but even then I’ve found there’s a need for healthy moderation. Rest is vital, so I always take off Sundays. Last year there were no holidays and almost no weekends off. The burnout was rough. I won’t be doing that again if I can help it.

Reading fills the majority of my spare time. I read a few hours every evening and listen to audiobooks during lunch breaks, when driving, cooking, or doing chores. I try to pour words in whenever I get the chance. I’m one of those readers who’s always busy with about 20 or 30 books at once. They cover technical non-fiction, history, and fiction in several genres – both the heavy and the light. Reading is almost always a form of study. There’s no aspect of writing that can’t be improved by reading.

Q3. Currently,
what is happening? The progress bars seem to have slowed down. Does that mean
you are working less?

No. The opposite, actually. Over the past three months, I’ve been going through hundreds of notes I’ve been making over the last year or two. One of them read something like “The two most important sections are rubbish.” It’s the kind of note you want to delete, burn, bury and forget. The chapters weren’t as terrible as my note suggested, but they failed to realise potential that was still locked away.

Originally, I’d opted for a version of the story that would reduce the length and writing time. During my house renovations, the story details that had been filling my thoughts settled, revealing a big picture that was wanting in places. Something magical was crying out to be released, something buried under the existing plot. The trouble with fixing it wasn’t just the weeks of imagination, research and problem solving that would be required, but the need to track all the changes through to the end of the book.

I fought the decision for weeks, arguing
that it would take too long, but eventually, I decided it had to happen. Three
evasive chapters were relieved of their posts and the gaps were slowly filled
with eleven new chapters that venture into some of the most mysterious and
dangerous places yet seen in the series. It was well over a hundred pages of
tedious work. These were without doubt among the most difficult sections to put
together but will likely end up being the most rewarding to read.

Something I’ve learned is that nobody wants to merely know what happens; we want to experience it. And unless the story is drawing us in, it isn’t really fulfilling its purpose. The majority of what I’ve been doing recently has been centred around just this, making the scenes bigger, the secrets darker, the threats more present, and the people more real. I’ve been replacing passages written in the early months of work, when my pace was being dictated by pressure.

I decided that this rewrite would be the one in which all the major improvements would happen. The improvements are additional to the requirements originally set out for the revision, so it’s not easy to display the work done by means of progress bars. I try, however, to give as honest a representation as possible. What’s important to realise is that because so much is happening in this revision, small increments indicate significant progress.

Q4. Is all this work
necessary? Aren’t you over-polishing?

These improvements aren’t about polish that will only be noticed by some, but about content that will be noticed by all. Nobody would vote for the old version.

Q5. Will the audiobook be released at the same time as
the ebook and paperback?

Yes. We’ll schedule most of the artwork and hardcopy formatting to coincide with the audiobook recording so the audio production doesn’t cause a delay.

Q6. Will there be hardcovers?

Yes, hardcovers will be available for all the
books, but there’s quite a bit of work that goes into the formatting, print
testing and so on. We’ll most likely get those done during the recording of the
audiobook.

Q7. When will it be released? Can you give us any kind
of estimate?

I’m not evading when I say I can’t give a date
yet. Unlike more seasoned authors, I haven’t done this often enough to know
exactly what lies ahead. There are even experienced authors who avoid giving
deadlines. It’s a point in quality, not a point in time I’m aiming for, but what
I can say is that I want it to be finished just as much as anyone, so you can
be assured that I’m trying to reach that point as soon as possible.

Q8. Translations?

They will definitely happen, but not before the next book is released. Hopefully, by the time the third and possible fourth books appear, the translations will begin catching up. That’s what we’re aiming for.

Q9. What about a shorter book, something around the
main series?

I’ve considered that, but I’d rather give full
attention to the main series. Maybe later.

Q10. Can I join the Alpha and Beta readers?

I wish I could say yes. There’s a limit beyond which the lists are not manageable. We reached that limit some time ago and had to stop accepting any more. I should point out that if you want to be hit with the full experience of a book and get the maximum impact on first read, you don’t want to be a test reader. It’s only if you have a thing for being part of repairs, of digging for typos and other mistakes. For some, that actually spoils the read, so it’s definitely not for everyone.

Q11. I’m an aspiring author. Any advice?

Fantastic!

Before getting to the question, I should point out that there are authors with more experience who are better equipped to answer it, but I’ll give you the advice I was given, along with some points to consider.

Firstly, writers shouldn’t drink black coffee
like in the picture because it tastes horrible. Don’t do it. Your first two
hundred words of every day will come out bitter and bent with the anguish of a
tortured palate. Okay, okay all you true-connoisseur tar-drinkers preparing
fiery words for the comments section, I’ll leave your stained cups alone. Serious
advice then. Here we go.

Read a lot and write a lot, but don’t just read to see what happens next, and similarly, don’t just write to tell what happens next. Read slowly and carefully to understand how language can be used, how the story was told, how characters were brought to life. Mull over delicious sentences that just tickle the ear and get a feel for what makes good writing spark and flicker to life. If you’re reading a bad book, there’s a great deal to learn there too. I sometimes frown at a page and think, “This is awful. And it reminds me of something I wrote.” I recognise many of my own mistakes by encountering similar mistakes elsewhere. It’s the perspective thing – it’s always more difficult to have perspective on your own work, so it’s really helpful when you can see your efforts through the words of others. (I give you full permission to learn from my mistakes.)

It’s also important to learn about writing. Lifting the hood and staring with great concentration at an engine won’t get you far if you can’t name a single part beyond the spark plug. There are many great guides on writing out there. Study a few of them – and I really mean study. I’d also advise getting a firm grip on grammar and punctuation, not because I was an English teacher, but because it’s more or less impossible to find good prose that isn’t also structurally sound – and editors are not going to rewrite every sentence. There’s a difference between bending rules we know, and pretending to bend them because we haven’t the foggiest notion of what they are. Nobody is fooled.

You don’t need to learn everything at once.
Learn as you go. It’s probably the only effective way you can learn.

When you write, enjoy it! Don’t lose sight of
the sense of magic in the process, and if you do, fight to get it back. But
then – brace yourself for this – be willing to hear and learn from the comments
of readers. You might not always agree with the feedback, but one thing is
certain: if you’re arguing with criticism, you’re not learning from it. If the
division between what you agree with and what you don’t is the same division
between complements and criticisms, there might be a problem. Critical feedback
is golden if it helps you improve – and all of us have room for improvement. Comments
that are overwhelmingly negative, however, are just destructive, so make sure
you get balanced feedback, even if you have to ask for it. But don’t scrape the
veggies into the bin when nobody’s looking. They’ll do you good.

This is just a thimble of thoughts, but if you’re serious about writing, buy a few how-to books and get stuck in. And persevere! There’s work involved, but the whole process can be a thoroughly rewarding one.

Q12. Anything to ease the waiting? Can we have A Cloud in Her Eye?

It was never the plan to release Cloud before book 2, but when people started asking for it, I decided there wasn’t any point in holding it back. So we’ll release it – all versions together – around the middle of July.

Cloud is a very different kind of book to anything in the fantasy series, but it was my training ground for certain character aspects of book 2, so it might prove interesting if you’re keen to see a different angle of what’s gone into the making of the next instalment of The Wakening. No, these aren’t characters that will be incorporated into the fantasy series in some altered form, but they should prove entertaining companions in their own right. While book 2 is very long, Cloud is very short, around one tenth the length of book 2, just crossing the line from novella to novel. That was partly due to university requirements, but as with book 2, this is the length that feels right for the story. It’s a quirky little tale with some unexpected turns.

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Back to the library loft

I’ll post again when book 2 reaches the next stage, but for now, I’ll be pretty much consumed by the manuscript of book 2. As before, I do apologise for not being more communicative. I have only have so many words in me per day, so the more I put into correspondence, the less I have for the book. And I think everyone would prefer that the book takes precedence. Until the next stage then …