Progress

I think I’ve turned another writing corner. I turned one when I decided to forego full-time employment if possible in favor of writing. It turns out that was a serious commitment to living a life that would support the writing, but it wasn’t actually a serious commitment to writing, although I did get the first novel polished, and planned the second novel and the second play. I wouldn’t be here if those things hadn’t happened.

But the last three weeks or so (since my Aug. 20 commitment) have been a revelation — and I’m not sure what exactly changed. (And yes, I wish I knew why it took more than a year to get here.) I commited to write 500 words per day minimum on the novel, and it started pouring out of me, every day, and instead of looking for ways to avoid writing, I’m looking forward to getting down to it. I’ve learned just how quickly I can get through my commitment, and how seldom I’m actually ready to quit at that point. I’m trying not to think about what’s changed too much — I don’t want to jinx anything.

I wish I could figure out what caused this time to be different. I’ve certainly said I’d write every day before. I don’t remember, but I may even have said I’d write X amount every day before. And I avoided it over and over. Maybe there’s something to this “zone” business — in 2000, I lost about 50 pounds in about six or eight months, mostly because I was in the right place in my head to do it. (Note to self — see if I can find that place again!) This feels like the same thing, only I’m not sure I’ve really hit my stride with it yet. It’s not buzzing yet — and that whole summer when the weight was coming off, I felt a certainty that almost hummed behind everything.

Another difference from before — I finished the first novel in part because I was taking a community ed class and I had to get up once a week and read chapters in front of my classmates. No penalty accrued for not having done it, beyond the embarrassment of having to appear empty handed week after week (and I made myself go). At the moment, I’m working the nights that class is offered, so the only impetus I have to actually get it done is myself. At the moment, that’s enough.

Two other things — 1) I happened to pick up a book yesterday, Pressfield’s “The War of Art,” on the recommendation of a friend, and it’s right on the target about resistance (read “block”) and actually doing the work. I was afraid when I picked it up that I’d get lost in thinking about the theoretical and start having trouble with the practical (read “allow myself to resist” again), but I wrote 2359 words today so I’ve decided not to worry too much about that.

Second — A bunch of things I enjoy doing have become more enjoyable, because I’m doing them after I write, and I’m no longer beating myself up for using them to avoid writing. I’d had no idea how much crap I was giving myself. The rewards just keep on coming.

How I Write Quickly

It’s been 13 days since I set my 500-words-a-day goal and so far I’m averaging 538 words of the new novel daily. This column is partly supposed to be what I learn about writing from writing, and here’s what I’ve learned — I can write pretty quickly when I want to. (In fact, most days my quota has taken less than an hour to put on paper. Granted, it’s first draft, but then, so is this blog — which seems to be in more or less readable English most of the time.)

Here’s an idea I’ve found useful for writing quickly. As you know, I’m a planner-in- advance where writing is concerned. When I write nonfiction articles, I list the main topics, and beneath them, the main supporting points. I do this from the time I conceive the article idea right up till the moment I start writing the piece, jotting down everything I can think of that I want to include as it occurs to me.

I do this right in the electronic document I’m ultimately going to write the article in, moving it down about 5 or 6 blank lines below my written text when I finally begin the writing. I come up with an introduction (which many writers, including me, will tell you can be the hardest part!) and then start segueing into my topics and points. When I’ve covered one, I delete it from the list and the next one is right there waiting, and usually the combination of it and its predecessor suggest the transition between the two. When I run out, I’m done, and I’ve usually managed not to forget any of the points I originally wanted to make. (I’ve done this for most of my more than 120 articles, all of which got published.)

Two things are key here — first, examining the list before I start writing and establishing some kind of logical order to it — transitions are much easier when A leads to B and so forth. Second, I need to have listed my point thoroughly enough that I don’t wonder what I meant by it when I look at it later. Points can be a simple as “quote from so and so about conference sales” or as specific as “mention that many HR executives firmly believe in the old adage about criticizing privately and praising publicly” — as long as, when I read it, I remember exactly what point I wanted to make.

I did the same thing with the first novel and now the second. I work from chapter outlines. (I have a software package I use for novel and play development that helps foster these.) They’re generally specific enough to include all the characters who will appear in that chapter, what they’re going to do, what they’re going to feel, what thematic point I’m trying to support, and what will be set up for the next chapter by the action in this one. Sometimes they include specific actions — “so and so sells a house.” Sometimes they’re much less specific: “think of something that will show that so and so is afraid of X other character, but makes the reader think the fear will prove groundless.”

When I start on a new chapter, I cut and paste the chapter outline into my Word document, re-read the last couple of pages I wrote to get a feel for how the new chapter should begin, and start. I delete the ideas from the notes sections as I write them, and when they’re gone, I’ve made the point/set the scene/established the action this chapter needed. I’ve avoided going off on tangents (although I sometimes jot down something on a post-it note to include later or elsewhere). I’ve kept my story structure solid by having an action line, an emotional line, and a thematic line firmly in front of me (and therefore in mind) as I’ve written. Best of all, I know what comes next — crucial to avoid block, for me anyway.

This has proven freeing, and rather than squashing creativity, has actually helped spark it, as I’ve pointed out elsewhere. Usually the surprising revelations come in the area of characterization. (I discovered one of my characters’ peculiar method for keeping people from trespassing in her yard while following an outline - it just hit me.) I don’t have to worry about keeping the three big balls in the air because I’m looking at them on the screen in front of me. So my characters can come out and show me new aspects of themselves, which they quite often do.

Editing and the New Novel

Sorry I haven’t posted on Serious Writer but I’ve been seriously writing. I’ve never been a “do this much every day” kind of writer, which has had both good and bad results, the main bad result being it takes too long to finish projects. I reached an impasse around chapter 19 in my novel plan. I decided maybe the way out of it was to start writing the book, and revisit the plan when I got close to where it breaks off. So I set myself a daily word limit, and I’ve actually kept it. (No one is more amazed than I.)

I’m also tracking the improvements I make in it along the way in a sort of “editorial checklist.” A number of good books on editing your own fiction exist out there — eventually I’ll cover them in a review here. But having been a professional writer for years (nonfiction), I know where a lot of my weaknesses are. Between that knowledge and the criticism I’ve received from others about my fiction work, I have a pretty good idea what to look for. So I’m making a list as things occur to me, or as I correct something I catch midstream. That way, when I go through to do an edit, I don’t have to mentally remember everything I’m supposed to be checking for — it’s all on the list. Maybe this could work for you too.

Good Advice About Illuminating a Central Problem

This comes from Louis Catron’s “The Elements of Playwriting” but I think it applies to other forms of fiction writing too. He begins with the concept that the idea for a play can stem from a character, a situation, or a theme — whatever idea that strikes your fancy. Then you flesh that out, then focus on the other two elements so you have a well-rounded concept. (For example, if you want to write about a situation, you flesh that out, then focus on its characters and theme.)

This is the set-up for one of the best-written pieces of advice about writing I’ve ever seen, which is:

“You could write an essay telling readers your conclusions… but plays show. Tell yourself that your play can never state the problem directly — a good guideline is to assume the characters do not know the thematic issue or problem and therefore can’t speak it clearly — so you search for actions.“

That is wonderfully expressed, and if you keep it in mind, it will keep you from committing the cardinal sins of having your characters explain themselves to your reader in a way that nearly always sounds artificial, or of having them behave as though they’re conscious they’re supposed to be illustrating an idea, which will immediately render them false. It will add subtlety — a powerful influence — to your writing.

Novel Prep I - An Exercise

I’m in the midst of outlining my next novel. With my last one, I used a combination of paper/pen and, ultimately, writer’s software to accomplish this, and I’m doing the same thing this time around. I make some progress in the software (which I’ll talk about in another post) and then during my breaks at work I sit with a notebook and flesh it out.

I have a SLEW of writing books, as I’ve said elsewhere, most of which I haven’t read yet. So as I was walking past the writing-book bookcase (floor to ceiling, six feet wide, and they don’t all fit there) the other day, one of the titles leaped out at me, and it spawned what has turned out to be an interesting exercise.

A Good Book About Writer’s Block

In the spirit of preventing writer’s block by being able to spot signs in myself of giving in to it, I occasionally read books on the topic. I read a good one today — albeit a pricy one, as it’s apparently out of print. (Amazon has it listed for about 50 bucks.) It’s called “Break Writer’s Block Now,” written by Jerrold Mundis. It was concise, sensible, jelled nicely with some of my own thinking on the subject, and expanded my thinking in other areas. I can’t remember what I paid for it, but whatever it was, it looks like it could be well worth the price.

I actually did the exercises it recommended (usually I don’t because I just feel silly) and, while I didn’t feel them to be earth- shatteringly revealing at the time, they did prove his point (where applicable), and give me a blueprint to expand on (likewise).

I’m not so much looking to break block as remove obstacles to productivity. To that end, I’ll keep working on his suggestions for a while and see what develops. I’ll keep you posted.

Cashing a Check

Just a note.  I cashed a check — payment for writing — yesterday. First time I’ve done that since the magazine I worked for got taken over by its new owner (thus putting me and the rest of its former publications staff out of work). Feels good. I’ve been commissioned for two more articles immediately and an indefinite number after that.

It’s not fiction, though — so I still have a way to go.

Seeing the Multiple Purposes to a Novel’s Action

All writers should read a lot, and they should cultivate the habit of reading both for pleasure and for seeing what works and what doesn’t.

For example, Gone With the Wind was a wonderful read. I read it for the first time when I was 12, and my sixth-grade teacher, once she realized that THAT was why I wasn’t paying attention in math class, left me alone for nearly a week to plow through the book.

But for the writer who’s paying attention, it can also teach something about structuring a plot. For example, Scarlett can’t ultimately decide to leave Tara and go to Atlanta to try to seduce Rhett (and ultimately marry Frank Kennedy when Rhett turns out to be in jail) unless Margaret Mitchell (the author) effectively removes several moral and practical obstacles. The moral obstacles are Scarlett’s parents, who are never going to let her compromise herself to save the plantation — so her mother dies and her father’s mind becomes weak. Now, for the reader, these are both tremendously emotional events: Scarlett is devastated by them and I can’t imagine anyone putting the book down while reading about them. But for Mitchell, they made it possible for her main character to believably do what she later did — her own character saw no problem with them, and the outside societal influences that had previously halted some of her actions had been eliminated.

Note that Mitchell set this up previously when Scarlett first moves to Atlanta — she’s outside the direct influence of her parents, so she can commit some minor offenses and she’s careful to come up with buyable excuses for when reports of her conduct make it back home. But she doesn’t do anything that her parents would absolutely condemn — and by the time the need to do so arises, those obstacles have been removed by the author. (Plus, here the strong-willed, somewhat ruthless aspects of her character which we saw in the first half of the book now really start to come into their own — again, partly as a result of the newfound lack of a tempering influence.)

The practical obstacles are that no one else on the plantation will keep it going if she leaves, because they either don’t care or aren’t strong enough. The solution is Will Benteen, whom they take in and nurse and who stays on to work the plantation, thus freeing Scarlett from that role and allowing Mitchell to concentrate on how Scarlett’s efforts to keep herself and her family going change her character and influence her actions.
Not difficult to see, but for me, a budding writer then, a revelation — that things that happen in a story have a greater function than just being part of the emotional narrative, or events for characters to shape and react to. And, like well-written dialogue, the actions in a novel probably should have more than one purpose — either making something possible that will happen later, or making it inevitable, or making it more believable when it does, etc.

At any rate, evaluate writing for “needless” action — stuff we see that has no purpose other than to take up page space. Action, if it doesn’t move the story as outlined above, should at least illuminate characters and their relationship to each other. If a guy is going to pick his nose, someone else’s opinion of him should probably change because of it!

The Mapping Experiment

In my initial post, I talked about trying to figure out how to structure my second novel, and using as a model a bestselling novel I had read recently that was structured similarly. I said I was going to map the book and see what I learned, and I did.

I took a 17×24 piece of posterboard and a pencil and sat down with the book. On the left half of the posterboard, lengthwise, I did a chapter list. For chapter one — who gets introduced? How much backstory? Is that character’s problem presented or merely set up? How much dialogue? How many characters are introduced that are ultimately central to the story, and how many peripheral? And so on through all the chapters, and a pattern really did emerge.

Know Where You’re Going

I used to be plagued by writer’s block.

It actually made me scared to take the magazine job, because when I got hired, it was as assistant editor/writer, and I understood much of my primary function would be feature-writing. For someone who was, at the time, stuck on chapter three of her first novel (and who had been stuck there for more than a year), the idea of having to write on demand was daunting.

But I took the job anyway and here’s what I learned: I only have writer’s block if I don’t know what comes next.