Book Writing – If I knew the rules, I would probably have to break them

Note: This past weekend I participated on the ‘Great Science Writing, Part 1 – How I found that story‘ panel at the annual National Association of Science Writers conference in New Haven, Connecticut. This post grew directly out of that session and the response to it.

There was a large box from Bellevue Literary Press waiting for me when I returned home from New Haven last night. Inside were 10 finished copies of Written in Stone, my first book and the culmination of four years of work. I had not spent all of that time writing it – it was only 18 months ago that the book began to take shape – but the seemingly endless hours spent boning up on paleontology and blogging stories about fossils precipitated the idea-rich “primordial soup” from which the more derived book idea eventually emerged.

To some extent, Written in Stone is a product of my own stubbornness. There are plenty of books about evolution, fossils, and the history of science – nearly all authored by more august and respected writers than myself – and it took a long time for me to devise an original approach to these topics. I was not dealing with a small story or a handful of historical characters, but a tangled mass of intertwining and squirming ideas. My early attempts at corralling this squishy set of concepts were absolutely atrocious, but I felt the urge to keep trying. I was endlessly fascinated by the life of the past and the scientists who studied it, and I knew there had to be a way to do justice to both in the same book.

Ultimately I decided to use the history of science to introduce readers to the intricacies of life’s history, but settling on a narrative flow for a book is only the first essential step in composition. Translating that idea into something tangible requires that authors navigate the hurry-up-and-wait pattern of book publishing, hammering out page after page of the manuscript at some points and anxiously waiting for edits at others. Getting through these periods of frenetic activity and tense lulls requires a strong sense of determination, but what else does an author need?

An acquaintance of mine is working on their first book. The book is very different from mine – for one thing, theirs is a work of fiction – but my friend and I still regularly chat about the nuts and bolts of writing. On multiple occasions they have asked me “How did you learn the rules?” All I can do is laugh and say “I didn’t.”

I have no formal training in journalism or science writing. I haven’t even read The Elements of Style. ( – shock, horror – ) I am a writer because I was an avid reader first. I got my start reading books like Carl Sagan’s The Dragons of Eden and Stephen Jay Gould’s The Lying Stones of Marrakech on the cramped bus rides across the Rutgers University campus. What I read fueled my desire to write. At first I was so enthusiastic about content that I didn’t give much thought to style, but as I continued to feed my bibliophilia I started to pick up on the different techniques used by my favorite authors for weaving disparate ideas, personalities, and events into a single narrative. I took in whatever I could, and my enthusiasm for science drove me to practice writing each day on my blog. Fortunately for me, what started as a blip on the web transformed into a small platform which I have used to jump over to magazines, newspapers, and – of course – books.

Given my start on an alternate track, I don’t think about book writing in terms of rules. Instead I think of the authoring process as using a variety of techniques to weave particular elements together and overcome specific obstacles. A given technique may work well in one context but not in another, and each writer has to stock their own toolbox and figure out how to appropriately use each of those tools. There are essential elements which are key to writing a good book – compelling characters, a clear understanding of the intended audience, and a strong storyline – but it is not as if a writer can follow a foolproof, step-by-step program to bring each of these aspects of a book into play. My friend always becomes very frustrated when I tell them this. Without universal rules or a common pathway to arrange the necessary parts of a book, they often reply, how are so many people able to do the same thing?

No writer experiences the book-writing process in the same way. Other than getting your ass in the chair to do the work – as Misha Angrist expressed on last Saturday’s science writing panel – there is no ubiquitous methodology which all writers must employ to successfully incubate their book projects. Instead I think it better to consider book writing as a succession of experiences which are common to the process despite being experienced differently by individual writers. Take writing an introduction, for example. Some writers get it out of the way first and use it as a way to outline the rest of the book. Others, like me, saved it until last to make sure that it properly framed the rest of the book. There is not a proper or improper way to go about this – if an introduction should be written, the author must figure out how and when to do it. The same is true of the often-discussed question of whether the author should include themselves in their own book. In some instances it is appropriate, while in others it is not, and it is up to the writer to determine how their presence is going to influence the story they want to tell. There is no simple formula which, when followed exactly, will produce a good book. From finding the time to work to deciding which parts of a story need to be cut, composing a book hinges upon the characteristics of the author writing it.

Perhaps this is why “How to write a science book” panels and lectures are so persistently popular. There is no single trick or secret which can be shared or passed on. A compelling idea, an agent, a publisher, enthusiasm, and determination are important components of the unweildy apparatus which produces books, but that’s like laying out all the individual parts of an automobile and telling someone to figure for themselves how they all go together. We keep talking about it because there is no simple answer. I can say what worked for me and what my experience was, but your mileage may vary.

Nevertheless, there is one recommendation I feel confident about making to anyone who is considering tackling a book, especially if they are a first-time writer. It is simply this: blog early, and blog often. I am not talking about setting up a temporary blog specifically meant to promote your book a month before it hits shelves. What I am advocating is establishing an online writing laboratory – a place of your own to experiment and exercise your writing skills on a regular basis. Despite the impression that blogs are puddles of vanity and opinion, they are simply bits of software which can be used to a variety of ends. Blogs can be used to polish your writing chops, organize ideas, create a personal database of material relevant to the book, and test out concepts on potential readers. All this comes with the added benefit of plugging into pre-existing communities of readers, writers, editors, scientists, and other interested parties. This type of networking – which is constantly going on thanks to the internet – is vital to anyone who wants to break into the science writing world at whatever level. I can only speak for myself, but I have used my blogs to do all the things I have just outlined, and I probably would not have been able to write my first book without the ability to practice writing among a vibrant community of scientists, writers, and science enthusiasts.

Writing a book is not something to be taken lightly. I think another of my co-panelists, Doulgas Starr, got it just right when it likened embarking on a book project to deciding who you want to date versus who you want to marry. Does your idea so enthrall you that you are willing to commit the time, attention, and care required to foster it, or is it more of a passing fling better suited to a 500 word freelance piece? Every author must face this question and take their own approach to the subject they have chosen to commit to. We might want to know the simple rules for how to make it work – a short list of bullet points to pin to the wall to guide us – but, ultimately, we must all find our own way.