Every book that ever moved someone started as an uncertain first sentence. Your first draft isn't meant to be brilliant; it's meant to exist. Once it exists you're ahead of everyone who never started. Here's what actually helps between that first sentence and a finished draft.
How long should your book be?
Length isn't arbitrary — readers and retailers have expectations by genre, and landing far outside them makes a book harder to sell. Use these as targets, not rules:
| Category | Typical word count |
|---|---|
| Novel (most adult fiction) | 70,000–100,000 |
| Fantasy / science fiction | 90,000–120,000 |
| Thriller / mystery / crime | 70,000–90,000 |
| Romance | 50,000–90,000 |
| Young adult | 55,000–80,000 |
| Novella | 20,000–50,000 |
| Memoir | 60,000–90,000 |
| Non-fiction / self-help | 40,000–70,000 |
| Children's picture book | 500–1,000 |
A useful way to read that table: pick your number, divide by how many words you can write in a sitting, and you have the actual length of the project in sessions. An 80,000-word novel at 800 words a session is 100 sittings. That's daunting as a number and entirely doable as a habit.
Choose one tool and stop researching
The tool matters far less than the habit, but the wrong one creates friction every single day. For most authors it comes down to two:
| Microsoft Word | Google Docs | |
|---|---|---|
| Strength | Formatting control on long manuscripts | Simplicity and access anywhere |
| Works offline | Yes | Limited |
| Collaboration | Workable | Effortless — good for beta readers |
| Industry norm | Most editors and publishers expect .docx | Exports to .docx fine |
| Best if | You're preparing a manuscript for print | You write across devices or with others |
Either will get you to a finished book. Whichever you pick, back it up somewhere that isn't the machine you write on.
Draft first, judge later
The most common reason a manuscript stalls isn't lack of talent or time — it's editing while drafting. Rewriting chapter one for the eighth time feels like progress and isn't.
- Write forward. If a scene isn't working, leave a note in brackets and keep going.
[fix the timeline here]costs you five seconds; rewriting it now costs you the session. - Finish the draft before you show anyone. Early feedback on an unfinished draft tends to redirect the book rather than improve it.
- Track words, not hours. Hours reward sitting there. Words reward output.
Build a habit that survives a bad week
Consistency beats intensity. A writer producing 500 words four times a week finishes a novel in under a year. A writer waiting for a free weekend finishes nothing.
- Same time, same place. Removing the daily decision removes most of the resistance.
- Set a floor, not a ceiling. "300 words minimum" is achievable on your worst day — and on your worst day is exactly when the habit matters.
- Stop mid-scene. Ending a session knowing what comes next makes starting the next one far easier.
- Miss once, never twice. One skipped day is a day off. Two is the start of a stall.
When you get stuck
Most blocks are one of three things, and they have different fixes:
- You don't know what happens next. That's a plotting problem — step away from prose and outline the next three scenes in single sentences.
- You know what happens and don't want to write it. Usually a sign the scene isn't earning its place. Consider whether it can be cut or summarised.
- You think it's bad. It probably is — first drafts are. That's what editing is for. Keep going.
What "finished" means
A finished first draft is not a good book. It's a complete one. The story reaches its end, the argument concludes, the gaps are marked even if they're not filled. That's the bar — and hitting it puts you in a small minority of people who ever start.
From there the path is clear: edit it, then publish it, then help readers find it.