Well, we’ve been having an interesting discussion in one of my facebook posts, about beginning to write, find an agent (or publisher), what editors and agents actually do, how to overcome timidity, etc., etc.
This then led to people asking other questions about the more mechanical aspects of writing—what software do you use? (anything that lets you put words on the screen and move them around, though in general terms, your choice is limited to Beastly Word (Microsoft) or Scrivener (well-intentioned, but it basically does stuff that I normally do in my head, so not real useful (to me; I know many writers who swear by it)).
I can tell that one branch of the discussion is about to branch out into personal choices about how to organize what you write (some people—well, the majority, I suppose <cough>—write from one end of a book to The End, so organization is probably not a real problem.
Me, I write in small pieces, where I can see something happening and when I don’t know what happens next, I just save that file and start a new one. (Well, I save everything every few minutes, as I HATE losing work…). This results in a Whole Lot of files (looking back, one of my books normally has from 280-350-ish separate files by the time I’m done), with the accompanying problem of being able to find a specific piece of the book when I want it.
Basically, I code each file with a word that indicates which book this is (I often have more than one going…), followed by a symbol that indicates the year and date on which the file was begun, and a brief mention of who the main character(s) in the scene are, and a couple of words that will remind me what this file actually is.
As an example, the file I’m working with tonight is titled:
“JAMIE10=.53 Roger, Jenny and Hunter – Breakage, tadpoles, feckit”.
JAMIE10 is A BLESSING FOR A WARRIOR GOING OUT, the = means that the year is 2024, and “.53” means I began it on May 3rd. The main characters in this scene are Roger, Jenny (Jamie’s sister) and her grandson Hunter (aged 2). I’ll remember at least one of the key words <g>—in this case, it was “feckit”—so I can find the right file when I need it.
(Oh—the numbers below the heading are word count progress points (how many words did I get in a session with this file?) So this one took me three days (I was doing a lot of other stuff at the same time)).
Having found it, I figured I’d share at least the beginning….
JAMIE10=.53 – Roger, Jenny, Hunter – Breakage, tadpoles, feckit
1005
460
271
Roger couldn’t help looking over his shoulder. The house behind him was fragrant with nut-bread and pudding-cake, and he thought he could still smell the mouth-watering aromas floating from the open windows.
The possibility that Claire would not only have left the house on Baking Day… “Laundry Day, yes,” he muttered, “but not Baking” … and had then decided to walk the mile-plus distance to the Murrays’ cabin in the afternoon heat and managed to do so without making any noise or announcing her intent was far-fetched, but guilt knew no reason, and he glanced behind him once more as he turned onto the trail.
His stomach growled at the lingering thought of cinnamon-sugar biscuits, but the trail behind him stirred only to the distant croaks of the ravens who lived in the trees near the overlook with the spectacular view of Roan Mountain [check]. Automatically, he thanked God that Ian Murray hadn’t chosen to fall off that.
“On the other hand, if you had fallen off that, we wouldn’t be having this particular conversation…” But the trail steepened and he saved his breath for climbing.
Jenny Murray was sitting on the porch, feet dangling, instructing Tòtis in the art of winding wool, while keeping a watchful eye on small Hunter—also known to his family as Weejit—who had a panful of tadpoles and was chasing the hapless froglets with both hands.
“Dinna put that in your mouth, ye wee eejit!” his grandmother called, looking up from her wool.
“Fwog,” Hunter said reasonably, and tried again to put his capture in his mouth. The panicked tadpole leapt out of his hand and landed back in the pan with a tiny splash, causing Hunter to say, “Oh, feckit!”
“Don’t say ‘feckit’!” His mother and grandmother chorused together. Rachel came out onto the porch, drying her hands on her apron.
“Roger!” Her face lighted at sight of him, which warmed his heart and he smiled back.
“How are ye, bonnie lass?” he asked. She was blooming, from the gentle swell of her pregnancy to the roses in her cheeks.
“Well today, I thank thee,” she said. “The urge to vomit at sight of food has left me. Though the thought of swallowing a tadpole… Hunter, if thee cannot leave those creatures alone, they must go home to their creek. Is this a sick visit, a mhinister, or may we do you some service?”
…..
Excerpt above from A BLESSING FOR A WARRIOR GOING OUT, Copyright © 2025 Diana Gabaldon
(The scene does go on, but on to various bits of plot that I don’t want to share just yet.)
Please visit my official webpage for A BLESSING FOR A WARRIOR GOING OUT (Book Ten of my Outlander series of major novels) to access more excerpts from this book, and information about it.
Visit my Writer’s Corner webpage for more information about how I write.
Credits: I found this photo of a Greenfrog tadpole on Wikimedia Commons. It was made by Brian Gratwicke and posted under the following license terms:
This file is licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license. You are free:
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This excerpt webpage was last updated by me, Diana Gabaldon, or my Webmistress, Loretta on November 8, 2025, at 9:00 a.m. (Central time).