The thing about writing, that thing (with just one weird trick, done to death, man is that horse beaten) that nobody (everybody) tells you is that it’s simultaneously the easiest thing to do, and the hardest. Putting words on paper is easy. Crafting a story is less so. Working the kinks and bugs out of a draft less so than that. And so forth, literally ad nauseum.
And while it’s not purely internal, which is to say, each writer doesn’t necessarily have to re-invent the wheel (there are numerous guides of greater or lesser notoriety, to include our humble offerings), that sure seems to be in large part the method employed. I’d love to be able to write like certain of my friends. And, to an extent, I could. I could force myself into a specific mold such that all the correct boxes were ticked at the proper times. I’d almost certainly end up with something that could charitably be called a novel (or literary vector of choice).
It would almost certainly kill my peculiar voice, though. Or at least mute it to the point where the story would be wooden and unpleasant to read, regardless of how polished and pretty.
Much of what I do as a writer seems geared toward (slowly) chipping away at the learned behaviors and detritus of years in order to reveal the clean, streamlined process by which I best produce (and mostly easily (though I can’t for a second believe that those are necessarily conjoined (apologies for the nested parentheses (apologies for the apologies…)))) *cough*
Now, as far as your process goes, you’re likely (I hope) farther along than I am. And if you aren’t (I hope you are. I’m a pretty low bar, as standards go), there are any number of techniques available, many of which I’ve even discussed in previous posts. Some at length. Some simple ones are the Pomodoro technique, deliberately crafting a physical space conducive to creation (I’ll spare you pics of my office. Children. And toys. So. Many. Toys.) as well as the never-popular Pulling the Internet Plug, followed by the (absolutely necessary) Butt-in-Chair Time. And read. Read, read, read.
Now, understanding how your own soul shapes the words that flow out of your imagination into some semblance of order on the page, I’m going to be less helpful. Sarah claims that no genre is safe from her, and I’m inclined to believe it. I find myself ranging all over the fantasy and scifi spectrum (barring hard SF. I don’t have the background, and right now the time/energy to gain it). I know writers who’ve made their nut in a specific subgenre, and others who’ve spent years shaping a specific world before turning to something else. Or not.
Essentially, what I’m getting at is experimentation. This applies not only to process, and genre and subgenre, but also to technique. Wednesday, Sarah wrote on making your characters real. I don’t know that I can speak to that, as the people I write are people, regardless of how much or little they’ve chosen to reveal to me (ungrateful cusses. *looks around* but beloved cusses, with many excellent qualities). World are similar. I follow my characters around with an invisible camera, relating their shenanigans to the reader.
One significant trick I learned from Dean Wesley Smith is focusing on a specific writing technique for a story. Make sure you get the sensory information into every page. Whether it’s a mention of the odors you characters smell, or the vivid colors around them (or drab, if that’s the way you roll, you dystopianist, you), or the moan of the chill wind between the weathered slats of the abandoned homestead in which your people are sheltering for the night, give the reader anchors for their imagination. And then, let the reader know the character’s reactions. That low moan, that sends a prickle up the spine of your hero, that recalls the hunting cat that terrified him as a child.
As I stated above, these things aren’t *hard* per se. Deliberate practice will teach you what you need to learn, and build upon the skills you’ve acquired to date. The hard part is something likewise peculiar to you, the individual writer. It may be that you simply don’t have the time or energy because of your stage of life. *cough* But these things change (the only true constant in the universe) and so will your process. Now go forth, and blast away until you understand how you best work. Then blast some more.