Following the Headlights: Illuminating the Path of Your Book
Four ways to work with headlights when you're working on a book
What’s new in my writing room: I’m working on a short-story collection, my first. It’s been great fun to take a five-month class on the topic and read published collections to study how they’re curated by the writer. I’m still thrilled that my third novel, Last Bets, was selected last December for Kirkus Reviews' Top 100 Best Indie Books of the Year! Kirkus reviews thousands of indie books, and less than 1% receive a coveted starred review (which mine did). Of those, only 100 are selected across all genres for the “Best of” list. Kirkus is (to many) the Michelin Guide to industry book reviews. A star is like a Michelin three star award. A Best of is way beyond!
I’m drawing from my two decade teaching career for this post: what makes a book work, in the end? Are there predictable stages a book goes through on the way to final draft?
I'm a systems lover, which I find totally in synch with being a creative person. I love following a map as well as following my nose. When my tolerance for being lost in the woods grows thin, I want a path. So I study other writers’ journeys for clues. And my past students were reliable teachers.
In the end, though, I wanted to know more than just the dependable steps that brought their books to the finish line. I wanted to know: What actually made writing the book satisfying to you, in every way?
Yes, I know not all of you dear subscribers to this newsletter are committed to long-form work. Keep going with your stories and essays, please. But if a book is in your plan, maybe my research will help.
Following headlights
A lot of writers—some of my favorites—feel that books are manifested in a kind of magical way. There’s a whole movement out there called Headlight Writing, perhaps based on E.L. Doctorow’s famous lines, “'Writing a novel is like driving a car at night. You can see only as far as your headlights, but you can make the whole trip that way.”
Even if it’s not a novel, following one step that leads to the next can work for many writers. You know this step, you write it or work on it, then the next step appears. I’ve done this with my short stories, for sure—and it’s exciting. Although short stories are less of a commitment than a book, I find the headlight method just enough risk to be creative and fun.
But I’m also a fan of formulas, that map we might make ahead of time. Writing ideas on index cards then sorting them into an order of scenes or chapters. Making an outline or storyboard. Committing to a practice of this many pages a day, this many days at the desk, with rewards to follow.
Whichever method creates trust—in the book, in yourself as its creator, in the idea that’s worth following—it is right for you. When I really trust my idea, I can follow its headlights easily. I don’t need to see the whole plan, the map. But when I am unsure of my ability—I’m trying something very new and risky—or I’m uncertain if the idea will pan out, it helps to have some kind of structure to my writing time.
When I think back on the 15 books I’ve published in my career, I realize most of them were mapped because the trust wasn’t there. The final two were not. They were definitely headlight following books, and I feel they are my best.
Back to my research with students: Here are the four ways of creating headlights worthy of following that were most common. They gave these writers the trust to continue. They became maps for those who want measurable steps along the way, road signs in the foreign landscape. They were lights that shone on the next idea to follow.
Headlight #1: visioning
A large number of the writers I spoke with said they spend upfront time visioning the book. This is headlight following before you begin to write seriously.
Many did this on paper, some just in their heads: taking notes, jotting down ideas and impressions, deciding favorite food of characters or a setting they can see. Sometimes this included talking about their ideas with friends and writing buddies.
All of it is testing the waters and building trust, I find. And it works as long as the energy is not dissipated by too much sharing.
I found the most successful writers took this visioning a step further: more than just thinking, jotting notes, or talking, they actually "saw" the book in their imagination. They visualized the end result. What it would feel like.
Some saw the book as a completed manuscript, a stack of papers on their desk. Others saw it in published form, on a bookshelf. It's an ancient principle: As above, so below. As you vision, so shall it be. It's the basis for visualization, used in professions from sports to business.
Practically, here are the steps they took: they spent time visiting bookstores and libraries. They looked at what else was out there, imagining their book in comparison—how would it be different? They thought about an ideal reader and what this reader might want from it. They drafted a mock cover of the book—complete with made-up testimonials by famous writers. They made a book collage,. They created a visioning statement for the book, asking, What's this book really about?
All of these are a kind of headlight, shining in the dark. When one of the lights lit up something exciting, they were off and running.
Headlight #2: thinking it out
Some of my students are more comfortable with the action step of thinking. This is a planning step, designed to give them a complete roadmap before they begin. It’s the widest kind of headlight, perhaps. And books do benefit from planning, because they are so large and take so long. Often the thinking lets them be less intimidating.
My students planned via research, character sketches, drafts of scenes ("islands" or free writes), interviews, outlines, and storyboards.
Most of my early books demanded this. I had not the level of trust to travel without knowing exactly where I was going. I’d start a writing notebook for each project and I’d free write ideas and notes in it every day. I’d collect my research. I’d outline my chapters on index cards that became a storyboard.
I was intrigued with visioning, an action done internally, but outer planning made me really believe I could manifest the book. Seeing my thoughts for the book on paper, creating as much written material as possible so I had plenty of choices if I got stuck, gave me confidence to get serious.
Having plenty to work with creates a bulwark when you don’t yet know if you can do this thing. You can lean on the accumulated pages and ideas. It’s impressive, even if your book ends up going in a different direction as the trust builds and you can follow the headlights less fearfully.
The only down side, I learned, to this option is that it can can take months, even years, before it’s really fun.
Headlight #3: structure comes first
When I wrote nonfiction books—my first writing path was as a food journalist—I had to create the structure first. Structure came before writing. I had to know the flow of my books, how my theory or thesis would be presented and developed, before I wasted time on the actual words.
I found this approach very reassuring. It was efficient, more so than the endless thinking. I often worked under contract so there was a deadline and it felt like any other kind of job where you had to deliver on time. I began with outlines but often got bored. Storyboarding became my main tool for this step, eventually, even though its less linear form made me nervous until I began to trust the book and my ability to write it.
My nonfiction students were most comfortable with this option. That the book made sense to readers was paramount. More important than the writer feeling creative. Like I said, it became like a job. The goal was to create a pathway through the material that a reader could smoothly follow. A world that can be entered fully and populated with witnesses who are also able to enjoy it.
I created at least eight books this way. It eventually dried me up, creatively, which is why I switched to fiction. But it did its work: I developed enough trust in myself as a writer to leap.
Headlight #4: refining to perfection
Many of my students who are skilled wordsmiths go right to this approach. The words have to be perfect along the way. They refine and refine as they go, making sure everything in chapter 1 is in place before they breathe life into chapter 2.
It’s possible to retro-fit your book, starting with language and moving in reverse to structure and content. It is very satisfying to the love of prose, but it’s a long journey and sometimes harder work.
I certainly am a writer who loves this last step best of all, because I worked as an editor for several decades and know words are a make-or-break element in successful books. If a writer has no love, skill, or tolerance for refining, the book doesn't usually make it to an agent, much less publication.
But the headlight of refining over and over can also dim. Rather than illuminating a larger world and next steps to follow, we may begin to forget where we’re going.
I recently read an amazing story that was so well crafted, the prose blew me away. But after two read throughs, I still couldn’t say what it was about. We got plenty of incredible details and setting and character information but did we care, in the end? Not really. It was a snapshot, a beautifully refined one. To me, it wasn’t yet a story.
So easy to get immersed in refining and word choice. Important to keep our eyes on the road ahead as well so that we don’t miss the point of what we’re trying to create and just begin talking to ourselves.
Which is best?
I can’t answer which headlight will shine your way through your book. I’ve used them all and find, again, that trust is the key. I’ll take more risks, be more willing not to know what’s on the road ahead, if I trust my book idea and my own ability to manifest it.
And even though I’ve listed these four options as distinct, they tend to not live separate from each other, for most writers I talked with. I move through them all, grabbing whichever option I need depending on my level of confidence.
So, there’s not one way for everyone. A book does not often travel a straight path. But it's helpful to know what you’re doing, what approach you’re immersed in. So if it starts to not work, you can shift to another.
Your weekly writing exercise
This week, test an approach you haven’t tried. For more about the idea, read this article on following the headlights from Medium.
Share your insights and questions with our community.
Shout Out!
Feel free to send me your publication news for this part of the newsletter, where I like to give a hearty shout out to writing friends and former students who are publishing their books and encourage all of us to pre-order or order a copy to show support of fellow writers and our writing community.
If you are a former student and will publish soon (pre-orders of your book are available now), or have in the past two months, email mary[at]marycarrollmoore[dot]com to be included in a future Shout Out! I’ll keep your listing here for two months.
I’m a lifelong artist, and I love to inspire and support other creative folk, which is why I write this weekly newsletter. My goal with these posts is to help you strengthen your writing practice and creative life so it becomes more satisfying to you.
I’m also the author of 15 books in 3 genres. My third novel, Last Bets (Riverbed Press), was published in April, after becoming an Amazon bestseller during pre-orders. My second novel, A Woman’s Guide to Search & Rescue, was published in October 2023 and also became an Amazon bestseller and Hot New Release from pre-orders. For twelve years, I worked as a full-time food journalist, most notably through my weekly column for the Los Angeles Times syndicate. My writing-craft book, Your Book Starts Here, won the New Hampshire Literary Awards “People’s Choice” in 2011 and my first novel, Qualities of Light, was nominated for PEN/Faulkner and Lambda Literary awards in 2009. I’ve written Your Weekly Writing Exercise every Friday since 2008.sk it where it thinks you are. Write some notes to yourself about your next steps.
This is so timely. The steps resonates with my thought process right now as I try to find my way in my second novel. But sometimes it feels like Google Maps is taking me on a lot of winding back roads when I'd prefer to be on an interstate... Lol!
Thank you, Mary! This is very inspiring. I've often wondered if I have a book in me, even though most of my life has involved writing. I tend to alternate between the "purple passion" of recording as quickly as possible what's flowing to me and the editorial refining of what I've written, which eventually leads to another inspired flow. This happens no matter what I'm writing: a letter, email, "job aid" handout, academic paper, or a publication for work.
I like your idea of dedicating a journal to each writing project. At this point, I'll have to ask myself, "If I'm to write a book, what will it be about?" and just begin by writing in the journal. Years ago, the homework for a summer writing class was simply to write for 15 minutes/day without stopping--and end with a piece we could share and, hopefully, publish. The first day I set a timer and began writing what was on my mind. I was surprised when the timer went off and I was deeply into writing about something I'd never even thought of before and did not want to stop. I wanted to know where it was going. I can do this in the journal, like turning on the headlights to see what's there.