Anytime I speak to a group, any group, I get asked about my writing process. Sometimes when I’m out with my wife, Sue—at a restaurant, taking a walk around town, at the movies—I get stopped…and asked about my writing process. So maybe you’re wondering, What’s James Patterson’s writing process?
I write a fifty- to eighty-page outline. For every book.
I write three or four drafts of every outline.
I write with a pencil. I like being able to erase things and I’m pretty good at admitting when I make a mistake.
At this point, I can’t imagine writing on a computer. It’d be like starting all over again as a novelist.
I’m sitting at my desk now. There are several sheets of lined paper staring at me, mocking me, laughing in my face. They’re covered with my terrible handwriting. I’m staring back at the lined pages and the terrible handwriting.
The pages are staring right back.
They never blink.
They show me no mercy.
I have a thick folder of ideas somewhere in this office. The cover on the folder is pretty clever. It says IDEAS.
When the time comes for me to consider a new novel, I’ll take down the trusty-dusty Idea folder.
I slowly leaf through it, page by page. I usually consider five or six different ideas for each book. I’ll flesh out one or two of them.
I live with the idea, go on car rides to nowhere, pondering the idea, trying to shape it into a story I’m excited to work on. Then I start to scribble an outline.
One of the great things about working on several books at the same time is that I’ve rarely experienced writer’s block (except right after Jane died). If a chapter isn’t working, I just move on to the next chapter—or I move on to another book.
I know, I know; some writers reading this are rolling their eyes. Or throwing up. What can I tell you? That’s what I do. You be you.
When I write a first draft, I try to get the bones of the story down on paper. I don’t worry about the language. It’s a lot like the way some painters and illustrators work. They do a rough outline, and if they like it, they fill it in, change things, add, delete. I’ve always felt polishing scenes too early makes it hard to delete them even if they should go. You start thinking, Oh, I can’t throw out that chapter. Oh, I love those two sentences. Oh, man, I love that word choice.
What you should be thinking is That doesn’t belong in the book, toss it. When I’m writing a second or third draft, I’ll scribble at the top of chapters Be There. I’m trying to remind myself to be in the scene, to feel the scene. If I don’t feel it, how can I expect the reader to?