About noon today, I finished the first draft of Lola's story. What had been four pages of story that Lola told her daughter became 65 pages or a whole section of the book. It has been hugely fun to write because I knew where it started and where it ended and amazing ideas and characters happened in between.
Now I am sitting in the gap. Do I move on to Carla's story? Or do I go back to the main plot? I reread some of the main plot today and it's good. It's been several months since I've looked at it and I was pleased that it holds together.
In some ways it seems quite complicated to also do Carla's story (she's Frankie's sister and Lola's other daughter), but she's an important piece of the story so far so what happens to her next will be telling. But I don't know her yet. I don't who she is or what has happened to her.
So I am sitting in the gap, in the white space between the words, in the silence between the notes, in the skin between the eye lashes. I need to show up, stay put, and wait. Wish me luck.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
Monday, December 26, 2011
Being specific
He waited a while. Then he left.
He waited 10 or 15 minutes. He wasn't sure as the phone got no reception. Then he walked away.
One of the many distinctions between good writers and beginners is the specificity of their language. Any time you can be more specific in the plot or the description or the dialog, consider it. She had dark hair or she had dark chocolate hair? He wore long pants or he wore tan Dockers? He walked down the road or he walked down the dusty road seeking out the occasional shadow?
Notice that I say "consider it," not "do it." Because the other side of the issue for beginners is using too much specificity.
He ate his burger with ketchup, mustard, pickles, lettuce, tomato, and onion. And on his fries, he put extra salt and ketchup.
This kind of detail doesn't tell me anything special about this character. Of course, if there isn't anything special about him to know, then I don't need any detail. But if there is, how can you show me? Thus, the details can't be specific for their own sake, but to show us or tell us something. Here's another example:
He took the lettuce out of the burger and folded the lettuce so that it was the exact size and shape of the patty. He then cut the burger into 4 quarters. She wondered if he had a secret way to measure them for they seemed exact. Then he took out a towelette, washed his hands, and proceeded to eat the sandwich with his knife and fork. "I'll be you think I'm weird, don't you?" he asked.
The details here tell us a lot. He's precise, he's fastidious. Just the man she wants to do the job of killing her husband.
You may not want to worry about specificity when you're drafting. Now that I write every morning, I spend the first few minutes reading the paragraphs from the day before. While I'm not editing, I will note a place where I can be specific. This morning I added this detail.
Before: She dried off in front of the window, watching the women in the garden below.
After: She dried off with the only clean towel in the bathroom, watching the women hoeing in the garden below.
See what comes alive in your writing when you add a few specifics.
He waited 10 or 15 minutes. He wasn't sure as the phone got no reception. Then he walked away.
One of the many distinctions between good writers and beginners is the specificity of their language. Any time you can be more specific in the plot or the description or the dialog, consider it. She had dark hair or she had dark chocolate hair? He wore long pants or he wore tan Dockers? He walked down the road or he walked down the dusty road seeking out the occasional shadow?
Notice that I say "consider it," not "do it." Because the other side of the issue for beginners is using too much specificity.
He ate his burger with ketchup, mustard, pickles, lettuce, tomato, and onion. And on his fries, he put extra salt and ketchup.
This kind of detail doesn't tell me anything special about this character. Of course, if there isn't anything special about him to know, then I don't need any detail. But if there is, how can you show me? Thus, the details can't be specific for their own sake, but to show us or tell us something. Here's another example:
He took the lettuce out of the burger and folded the lettuce so that it was the exact size and shape of the patty. He then cut the burger into 4 quarters. She wondered if he had a secret way to measure them for they seemed exact. Then he took out a towelette, washed his hands, and proceeded to eat the sandwich with his knife and fork. "I'll be you think I'm weird, don't you?" he asked.
The details here tell us a lot. He's precise, he's fastidious. Just the man she wants to do the job of killing her husband.
You may not want to worry about specificity when you're drafting. Now that I write every morning, I spend the first few minutes reading the paragraphs from the day before. While I'm not editing, I will note a place where I can be specific. This morning I added this detail.
Before: She dried off in front of the window, watching the women in the garden below.
After: She dried off with the only clean towel in the bathroom, watching the women hoeing in the garden below.
See what comes alive in your writing when you add a few specifics.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Love this
The Road to Mastery
Unconscious incompetence
Conscious incompetence
Conscious competence
Unconscious competence
-anonymous
Thursday, December 22, 2011
Blog post on income writers can expect
A writing friend, Cheri Lasota, sent a link to this blog to me. I found it most interesting and it certainly is a recommendation for picking a genre to write in and continuing to write and write and write.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Drafting or polishing?
In one of the monthly writing groups I lead, Molly mentioned that she was working with a writing buddy who was making a lot of specific suggestions. She liked the buddy's suggestions and so had turned her efforts to polishing the stories she had already written, rather than continuing to draft new material. This sparked a very interesting discussion in our group about when to draft and when to polish.
I've come to believe that it depends on what kind of editing and polishing we're talking about, and it depends a bit on how experienced a writer you are.
The two processes are different. Drafting requires a level of thinking, mulling, imagining, arguing, feeling that editing does not. For many of us, this is why it is so much fun. But it can also be scary for this isn't about control but expansion, it isn't about perfection but about making a mess and maybe even some big mistakes that will have to be undone.
For myself, I do rework some things when I'm drafting but they have to do with content. Like this morning, I couldn't remember if I'd made it clear that Cassie was a redhead and I wanted that identifying characteristic to be enough for the reader to know who had been in the accident. So I went back and reworked the physical description of that character the first time we meet here. I could have made a note to do it in a revising or editing time, but it seemed simpler to find it and fix it while I was thinking about it. Then I scrolled back down and went on with the scene. When something seems to be part of the content of the writing, that falls into drafting for me.
Editing is about grammar, punctuation, word repetitions, clumsy sentences, saccharine sentences, style and mechanics issues. And that's left-brain, what's-the-rule kind of work.
I don't recommend mixing these too closely. It's too hard to do a good job on either one if you're trying to do both at once.
In Molly's case, I was concerned that she would fall into the pit of perfection, of getting one story just right. That's not a good way to write a book, or learn all the many marvelous things there are to learn as a writer. Instead, most of us need to keep drafting for a good, long time, and then turn to the editing side of ourselves.
I've come to believe that it depends on what kind of editing and polishing we're talking about, and it depends a bit on how experienced a writer you are.
The two processes are different. Drafting requires a level of thinking, mulling, imagining, arguing, feeling that editing does not. For many of us, this is why it is so much fun. But it can also be scary for this isn't about control but expansion, it isn't about perfection but about making a mess and maybe even some big mistakes that will have to be undone.
For myself, I do rework some things when I'm drafting but they have to do with content. Like this morning, I couldn't remember if I'd made it clear that Cassie was a redhead and I wanted that identifying characteristic to be enough for the reader to know who had been in the accident. So I went back and reworked the physical description of that character the first time we meet here. I could have made a note to do it in a revising or editing time, but it seemed simpler to find it and fix it while I was thinking about it. Then I scrolled back down and went on with the scene. When something seems to be part of the content of the writing, that falls into drafting for me.
Editing is about grammar, punctuation, word repetitions, clumsy sentences, saccharine sentences, style and mechanics issues. And that's left-brain, what's-the-rule kind of work.
I don't recommend mixing these too closely. It's too hard to do a good job on either one if you're trying to do both at once.
In Molly's case, I was concerned that she would fall into the pit of perfection, of getting one story just right. That's not a good way to write a book, or learn all the many marvelous things there are to learn as a writer. Instead, most of us need to keep drafting for a good, long time, and then turn to the editing side of ourselves.
Monday, December 12, 2011
The instructive nature of reading bad fiction
In the course of my editing work, I read quite a bit of bad writing. Much of my work is non-fiction and it's relatively easy to clean up and polish the writing if the thinking behind is sound. Bad fiction is another category entirely because so much goes into writing a good book. It's not just a strong feel for the mechanics of English, which are helpful but can be easily fixed. It's more knowing what makes a good story and balancing a whole series of components.
A good novel or memoir requires more than dramatic events. One reason novels and memoirs based on the life of someone often fall flat is that much of our lives are mundane, which isn't very interesting. On the other hand, and stringing together just the dramatic moments doesn't completely satisfy because that isn't realistic. Many less experienced writers don't take the heart that fact that the narrative arc, that crucial plot component, is more than big happenings. It's about making a choice, a decision that alters everything, sometimes for the protagonist and more often for everyone involved. If you can't identify that choice or those decisions, your novel may not hold.
A good novel or memoir requires a clear division between the major characters (only a few) and the minor players. Gone is the 19th-century tendency to fill novels with dozens and dozens of major players. While it is possible to have lots of characters, we only want cursory details on those that aren't major..
Back story should be brief and absolutely to the point. The information should be something we really need to know about the main character and his decisions. Again, we do not want back story on minor players. Often, we don't even need to know their names.
Omit facts and data from back story or from dialog. Readers don't care about a lot of facts. They're reading fiction for enjoyment, not for education. It's important to give sufficient facts so that the reader believes the author knows what she's talking about but beyond that, skip it. Even if your novel concerns the intricate dealings of a the financial world or an engineering firm, readers want plot and character, romance and danger. They don't care about the percentage of a loan.
Avoid verbs of attribution other than "said." No commenting, pleading, querying. If you absolutely must, it's okay to have a character "ask" but the question form of the dialog should carry that.
Learn what passive voice is and avoid it like the plague.
Limit indirect speech to a tiny percentage of your text. If it can't be dialog, maybe you don't need it at all.
Of course, there are exceptions to all these ideas but if you follow them most of the time, you'll write better fiction.
A good novel or memoir requires more than dramatic events. One reason novels and memoirs based on the life of someone often fall flat is that much of our lives are mundane, which isn't very interesting. On the other hand, and stringing together just the dramatic moments doesn't completely satisfy because that isn't realistic. Many less experienced writers don't take the heart that fact that the narrative arc, that crucial plot component, is more than big happenings. It's about making a choice, a decision that alters everything, sometimes for the protagonist and more often for everyone involved. If you can't identify that choice or those decisions, your novel may not hold.
A good novel or memoir requires a clear division between the major characters (only a few) and the minor players. Gone is the 19th-century tendency to fill novels with dozens and dozens of major players. While it is possible to have lots of characters, we only want cursory details on those that aren't major..
Back story should be brief and absolutely to the point. The information should be something we really need to know about the main character and his decisions. Again, we do not want back story on minor players. Often, we don't even need to know their names.
Omit facts and data from back story or from dialog. Readers don't care about a lot of facts. They're reading fiction for enjoyment, not for education. It's important to give sufficient facts so that the reader believes the author knows what she's talking about but beyond that, skip it. Even if your novel concerns the intricate dealings of a the financial world or an engineering firm, readers want plot and character, romance and danger. They don't care about the percentage of a loan.
Avoid verbs of attribution other than "said." No commenting, pleading, querying. If you absolutely must, it's okay to have a character "ask" but the question form of the dialog should carry that.
Learn what passive voice is and avoid it like the plague.
Limit indirect speech to a tiny percentage of your text. If it can't be dialog, maybe you don't need it at all.
Of course, there are exceptions to all these ideas but if you follow them most of the time, you'll write better fiction.
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
the ideal with its yeah-buts vs. the possible
Yesterday I had lunch with a long-time client, a psychologist and trainer who has written 5 very successful books on low self-esteem. I've edited all those books. We hadn't seen each other in a while and we got caught up, including stories from her travels around the country teaching her method and selling her books, which are self-published. Then after a lull as we finished our sweet potato fries, she said, "I've haven't been writing."
I was surprised to hear this for she had told me about a year ago that she was done with writing. At that time, she'd been having fun writing a mystery novel with a psychologist detective but had become ill and felt she had to choose to do her professional work of therapy and training with the energy she had. So I hadn't asked about writing projects and didn't expect she would have any.
I asked her to tell me more. It turned out that with the return of her health, she felt too guilty about an incomplete professional writing project (a recovery version of her method) to write for fun. She had written many pages on the professional book but was overwhelmed by the task of completing it. She had plenty of material and felt confident in her writing skills. She even had time and energy. But she didn't have the right kind of time--she wanted 3-4 hours a day for as many days in a row as she could get. And she couldn't see a way to write the book because that wasn't really available to her.
I told her of my experience with finally giving up that need for my own writing and letting an hour a day or even less suffice and move me forward. I told her I still go on retreat and have long periods to write (and that she could do that too as she controls her own schedule). She listened and we talked about it a little more. I didn't push too hard. Just said that maybe with some rearranging, she could finish the last professional book by June and really be done with that part of her career. She said she'd think about it, and knowing her she will.
It is easy, I think, for those of us with creative inclinations and other work obligations to get stuck in needing the ideal with its yeah-buts and if-only's. However, if we can find a different place to come from (how happy creating makes us, how meaningful it is, how relaxing it is, what kind of a contribution to the world we can make when we are happy), then that idea has less of a grip on us and we can welcome the possible, even if it isn't perfect.
I was surprised to hear this for she had told me about a year ago that she was done with writing. At that time, she'd been having fun writing a mystery novel with a psychologist detective but had become ill and felt she had to choose to do her professional work of therapy and training with the energy she had. So I hadn't asked about writing projects and didn't expect she would have any.
I asked her to tell me more. It turned out that with the return of her health, she felt too guilty about an incomplete professional writing project (a recovery version of her method) to write for fun. She had written many pages on the professional book but was overwhelmed by the task of completing it. She had plenty of material and felt confident in her writing skills. She even had time and energy. But she didn't have the right kind of time--she wanted 3-4 hours a day for as many days in a row as she could get. And she couldn't see a way to write the book because that wasn't really available to her.
I told her of my experience with finally giving up that need for my own writing and letting an hour a day or even less suffice and move me forward. I told her I still go on retreat and have long periods to write (and that she could do that too as she controls her own schedule). She listened and we talked about it a little more. I didn't push too hard. Just said that maybe with some rearranging, she could finish the last professional book by June and really be done with that part of her career. She said she'd think about it, and knowing her she will.
It is easy, I think, for those of us with creative inclinations and other work obligations to get stuck in needing the ideal with its yeah-buts and if-only's. However, if we can find a different place to come from (how happy creating makes us, how meaningful it is, how relaxing it is, what kind of a contribution to the world we can make when we are happy), then that idea has less of a grip on us and we can welcome the possible, even if it isn't perfect.
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