No further questions
Last-minute interviews, difficult conclusions and creeping self-doubt are all in my February writing update.
There’s a reason I’m sending this to you right at the very end of the month, namely because in contrast to a quieter January, February has been intense, as is to be expected when the deadline for handing over a first completed draft of the book which I’m happy with is now just 31 days away…
As a reminder, I’ve been setting myself monthly targets of 10,000 words over the past few months to reach the grand total of 60,000 by the end of February, giving me the whole of March to play around with structure, format everything and bring out the red editing pen to scrub out anything that isn’t remotely interesting.
Here’s how that’s going…
Exiting interviews
I intended to finish speaking to everyone I needed to speak to for my book in February, for the reasons stated above. After throttling the free version of the transcription app Otter.ai for a good number of months, manoeuvring meetings around on Calendly, and making use of Zoom’s recording features, I can finally mark that administrative behemoth as conquered.
Yes, eventually I will have to go back and sort out further paperwork around permissions, but that’s to be left for March, the month of forms and editing.
Any last words?
The majority of my book quotes individuals far more experienced than me on the subject of autism research, but the conclusion - which I am currently writing and had planned to finish by the end of this month - must be written by me and neatly summarise everything which has come in the book before, and I’m not entirely keen on repeating myself.
Google has been of some reassurance in telling me that reminding readers what’s been discussed in the book is helpful (and genuinely the whole point of the conclusion), and that a structure has been useful. Therefore, I am finding going over past chapters to find key takeaways and problems in need of solutions particularly helpful.
I am learning though, that a conclusion to a book might be just as hard to write as its opening.
The inner critic
I’m quite surprised that up until this point, the usual internal monologue which tells me all the words I’ve written are a steaming hot pile of garbage has been quite subdued. Perhaps the routine and admin described above did a good job of distracting my inner critic.
Now, though outstanding tasks are thinning out ahead of next month’s deadline, and it feels like the inner critic finally has more space in my brain to question whether anyone will actually read - or even buy - something I’ve written. My difficulty in succinctly summarising the book in the conclusion only adds fuel to the fire.
Thinking about it some more, I suppose the advantage here is that the work is non-fiction, and it’s harder for my inner critic to rip apart my writing when we’re talking about educational content about real-life issues. This is in comparison to the 10-year-old dystopian novel idea still rattling around in my brain which requires a lot more creative thought and imagination, which is a lot more subjective than objective fact.
Of course, I’ll also have a fantastic editorial team at my publishers who will polish up the final draft - however bad that may be.
With the deadline being next month, it won’t be too long before you can make up your own minds (no official publication date as yet, but I get the sense it’ll be sometime next year, given where I’m currently at in the production process).
See you at the end of next month, when - hopefully - I can tell you the Book Accountability Project has been a success, and a final draft of my book on autism research will be waiting in my editor’s inbox.
Brilliant progress. Well done