I also have a suggestion that seems to be working well for me. Since I’m paranoid about losing files I make frequent backups. I’m trying a little editing as I go but rewriting something I’ve lost never seems to be as good. Then I decided that I would just make a dated backup each time I write. If I delete, edit or fall asleep on the keyboard and replace the entire file with “fffffffffffffffffff” then I still have a usable version somewhere. Storage is cheap these days.
At the end of the day, assuming I made changes, I email myself my story draft. This way I have them stored forever and ever in my gmail account, which Google backs up for me and I don't have to worry about it ;p
I don't have a 100% method, but the vast majority of the time, I will write dialog for a scene first. I do this with no speech tags. And I let it sit for several hours. If, after I go back the piece, I can't figure out who's talking, I usually tweak until it feels more in character. It's very important to me to get a really good understanding of how a chapter will flow before I start painting it with details.
After I've done that, then I will go back and start to fill in with tags and details. And then, after I've forced myself to finish a draft no matter how much it reads like garbage, the fun, for me, begins. Because that's when I really start to edit and make changes and move things around. I always find I'm more enthusiastic about working on a piece once I have the minimum done, and I have a solid block of text to work with and change.
For instance, here's an example of my draft 1 (sorry, I don't have any L&C stuff on hand since I haven't written L&C since 2005ish, so this is for something else):
You said you didn't like driving, so I drive.
So, you don't think I'm a bad driver then?
What's a little whiplash between lovers?
You're totally avoiding the question.
(he laughs)
What?
Nothing, Mere. Nothing at all.
Sure.
Which ended up like this after many edits:
"You said you didn't like driving, so I drive," he said as she blew through a probably-should-have-stopped yellow light that shifted red just as her rear tires entered the intersection.
"So, you don't think I'm a bad driver then?" she said. She took the exit onto the highway, forcing herself not to push the SUV too fast. The car lurched anyway, and her body swayed against the door. Stupid, top-heavy SUVs.
"What's a little whiplash between lovers?"
"You're totally avoiding the question," she said.
"What question?"
She gritted her teeth. "Am I a bad driver, or aren't I?" she said. She cut onto the highway, narrowly avoiding the little Geo chugging along in the middle lane as she pulled in front and then swung into the fast lane. The Geo honked, and she snarled.
He chuckled, the sound of it soft and light and buried by the pounding rain. The laugh ended in a wince and a grunt, and he thumped his head against the window, but he smiled anyway.
"What?" she said.
"Nothing, Mere," he said. "Nothing at all."
"Sure," she said.
It's a slow, layers by layers method of filling stuff in, but I've found it to really work for me.
