For those of you who sometimes delve into articles or books regarding the art and practice of creative writing, you find a myriad of different ways in which writers go about drafting a story.
Some start with an idea -- a kernel shed from a dream or other inspiration and then jump headlong into it without a clue as to where they might end up. I refer to this as base jumping without the parachute. An exhilarating experience, I might add, and one that I have enjoyed on occasion, but is not what I typically do. Further, this tends to end up becoming a dead end, more often than not.
Others will spend a great deal of time taking an initial idea and then working through considerable research, character "studies", detailed outlines, etc. This is often more the case in speculative fiction where the writer needs to develop an entire world along with its associated pecularities (world building, and creating extra-terrestrial beings and the like), but also occurs in historical fiction as well. Also, not what I tend to do because more times than not that almost always stifles the creative genius part of it and the story never happens.
Then there's the "in-betweeners", those who start with an idea, stew on the notion, perhaps come up with the one-dimensional character background of the protagonist and the antagonist, develop a general storyline and then jump into it with at least a notion that they might end up somewhere good in the end.
There are variations on these three categories to one degree or another, but essentially that is the way of things. You can guess into which category I fall.
As an "in-betweener", I start off with an idea, puzzle upon it for a brief instant, and then if the notion seems "page worthy", then I start developing in my mind, first, a possible storyline. From there I will come forth with a protagonist with a problem or a desire and an antagonist who is only too willing to thwart the solution to the problem or the fulfillment of the desire. Basic character conflict, stuff. From there, I might do a little bit of outlining on paper, or perhaps merely within the confines of my hyper-active mind, and then start in with the first line. And I find this works the best for me. The creative part of me gets moving while the part of me that wants to make sure I am not wasting my time (I hate wasting time) gets a little comfort in knowing that the new story might actually have a fighting chance of surviving through a complete rough draft.
What I find occurring is a process of "body-building". I'll sit down and start cranking the words out, and that feeling of jumping from the cliff hits me (but atleast I have a parachute -- I know where the story is generally going to lead because I put some thought into it). Those primordial words and phrases, those crude sketches of character, of action, of dialogue splatter upon the page, then gel and harden as the story is constructed. Eventually, I find myself with a completed story in the very roughest of terms. It is merely a skeleton of a story, mostly action and dialogue. Scant description of the setting is in place, very little deep characterization has come forth, and the purple prose is almost non-existent. But at least I have a rough draft, something to go with, and even though it is just a skeleton, at least it is the structure of something vaguely resembling the remains of a human being (or maybe a walrus). Somewhere in the middle of all this I will do some research on various things just to make sure what I am trying to portray in the story is plausible and reasonably fits within the bounds of physics or other tenets of reality (this is especially true if I happen to be writing a hard science fiction piece -- which does not happen, being that I am more of a fantasy writer with a decidedly absurdist bent to things).
Then comes the second draft ... sometime much much later in the future. I usually set the rough draft aside for some time (weeks, months ... perhaps years) just to get a little emotional detachment, but also mainly to begin looking at the story from a critical standpoint. I want to determine at this point things like what settings, characters, and objects need to be described either thoroughly or more thoroughly than I had barely managed to do in the rough draft. I will also begin formulating more dimensions (beyond the three) to the characters -- their personalities, their motivations, their associations and interactions with other characters in the story, etc. This second draft will also have a bit more detailed research, if necessary, to make sure that things are correctly depicted as they should be. I call the second draft the musculature where I am placing the meat on the bones of that skeletal first draft.
Once done there, I might then again, let the story sit, but probably not for quite as long as I would have after the first draft (after all, I don't want the meat to spoil on the bone). In the third draft, I am at this point still refining such things as description of setting and characters, but with greater emphasis on drafting the purple prose -- placing metaphor and simile, and looking more towards using exact words to replace those initial rough draft, crude/general words. And I will also look at things such as the overall theme and the milieu of the story just to make sure I am correctly (at least from my standpoint as the writer) evoking the emotional response I want to instill in the reader. The third draft is the guts of the story -- more precisely the stomach, intestines, heart, and lungs, etc.
It is a fleshing out of the story until at this stage I have something that resembles a living breathing organism (human or walrus). There will at this point still be further revisions beyond the third draft. After all, the thing's going to need eyeballs and toe nails, and a little hair on its backside. So further revisions are necessary. And it truly is the detail work, the tedious going over and over again of the body that really makes the story something worth publishing. True, the skeleton of the idea was the foundation, the framework, but that fine stitching of skin over the muscles and organs, that pinpoint accuracy of using just the right word in the right sentence in the exact scene is what takes the idea to the point of being worthy of seeing the light of day, of being taken out for a walk around the grounds. And so with each little application of eyelashes and armpit hair I work it until the story is almost nearly perfect (at least as perfect as a human or a walrus can be), until eventually, one day what was once just a skeleton suddenly takes its first breath ... and I yell out (at least in my head) the immortal words of Dr. Frankenstein, "It's alive!"
Friday, February 24, 2012
Monday, January 23, 2012
Which came first ... the writing or my life?
It is Monday evening, and I am just about up to here with work. Don't get me wrong, as the owner of a small business existing in a struggling economy, we need to work, to generate a profit, to make money and pay the bills. But by the end of this weekend I was just about to blow my top.
Why?
Well, it's like this. Finally, after going through the slow business period of the holiday season (my line of work is not terribly busy during the holiday's, hence revenue goes down -- perfect timing, too, as I would like it to be up so I can have plenty of money to buy Christmas presents), the new year started a little slower than usual. It is now roaring along at top speed. Good thing, right? Well, yes, because we need to generate revenue so everyone gets paid (especially me). But what this leads to, since the year started out slow, is that the clients are starting to come around and shoot work at us with a vengeance. This is combined with the fact that the tax preparation season is upon us. I do have an accountant for the business, but she can't do it all. I have to do some of the prepping for it before giving it over for her to do the number crunching. So, sudden influx of work after being incredibly slow, plus tax preparation, equals almost zero time for writing. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
I am writing, mind you. Heck, I am writing right now in drafting this blog. But I need more. I am an addict and I need bigger highs. And all this other stuff ... this ... these things we collectively throw into the basket we call life is getting in the way.
Which begs the question: Which came first ... the writing or my life?
One can realistically argue that it is necessary to do these other things in order to survive, to eat, to provide for my family, to fund a retirement, etc. So life outside of the writing must go on. Without it there can be no writing (chiefly because the electricity would be shut off that runs the computer I am typing on).
But there is the other side. The yearning of the human soul side of things that says, what is the point of living if one cannot pursue happiness? Happiness to me is writing, creating, placing words upon the page in such a fashion that it is literally musical.
So how do we balance things? For me, at least this weekend, it begins with the germinating seeds of revolution. In fact, this very weekend I spent most of it working on reports, closing out assignments, working on taxes, and by the time I hit Sunday afternoon, I was mentioning to the "Genius" (read, the wife) that I was about to revolt. And that is exactly what I did. At approximately 3:30 p.m on Sunday the rebellion ensued. I stopped working and started writing. What's more, I wasn't even writing (or rather re-writing, mind you) my novel. I was working on a couple of different short story projects. Although I should have been working on the second draft of the novel, so shoot me.
The basic truth of the matter was that my mind yearned to do more than simply be. To simply exist is not enough, especially if one has an artistic bent. Scratch that -- it is not human to simply exist, to survive, to eat and sleep, and just make a living. What would be the point? A person must be more than what they do to earn their keep. Some choose painting. Some choose charity work. Others are missionaries. And then there are those like me who like to write. It is my way of contributing positively to humanity. It is the essence of the soul. So, if all one does is work, work, work, the soul is neglected. If it is neglected too long ... viva la revolucion!
I present this to you. One must work to eat. True. But one must create to live. How you find the time is up to you, but find it. Even if there is a ton of things to do. There are five loads of laundry to wash, a ton of dishes, fifteen thousand reports to generate, three billions widgets to manufacture. Stop!
Take a break! Even if you are in the middle of the assembly line building widgets. Take a moment and do what is important to your soul. Even if it is just thirty minutes, do it!
"But I have so much to do!" you yell at me. True, you do. But if you take the time to nourish the soul, you will be reinvigorated and, hence, that much more efficient in completing those three billion widgets. And your attitude will be much better, because you got to do what you like to do. Heck, despite the thirty minutes, or three hours, you lost doing what you enjoy (in my case, writing), you may even find your widget making productivity increase and thereby erase the time lost.
It is necessary to do this, you know. Because if you don't, sure enough ... viva la revolucion!
Why?
Well, it's like this. Finally, after going through the slow business period of the holiday season (my line of work is not terribly busy during the holiday's, hence revenue goes down -- perfect timing, too, as I would like it to be up so I can have plenty of money to buy Christmas presents), the new year started a little slower than usual. It is now roaring along at top speed. Good thing, right? Well, yes, because we need to generate revenue so everyone gets paid (especially me). But what this leads to, since the year started out slow, is that the clients are starting to come around and shoot work at us with a vengeance. This is combined with the fact that the tax preparation season is upon us. I do have an accountant for the business, but she can't do it all. I have to do some of the prepping for it before giving it over for her to do the number crunching. So, sudden influx of work after being incredibly slow, plus tax preparation, equals almost zero time for writing. All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.
I am writing, mind you. Heck, I am writing right now in drafting this blog. But I need more. I am an addict and I need bigger highs. And all this other stuff ... this ... these things we collectively throw into the basket we call life is getting in the way.
Which begs the question: Which came first ... the writing or my life?
One can realistically argue that it is necessary to do these other things in order to survive, to eat, to provide for my family, to fund a retirement, etc. So life outside of the writing must go on. Without it there can be no writing (chiefly because the electricity would be shut off that runs the computer I am typing on).
But there is the other side. The yearning of the human soul side of things that says, what is the point of living if one cannot pursue happiness? Happiness to me is writing, creating, placing words upon the page in such a fashion that it is literally musical.
So how do we balance things? For me, at least this weekend, it begins with the germinating seeds of revolution. In fact, this very weekend I spent most of it working on reports, closing out assignments, working on taxes, and by the time I hit Sunday afternoon, I was mentioning to the "Genius" (read, the wife) that I was about to revolt. And that is exactly what I did. At approximately 3:30 p.m on Sunday the rebellion ensued. I stopped working and started writing. What's more, I wasn't even writing (or rather re-writing, mind you) my novel. I was working on a couple of different short story projects. Although I should have been working on the second draft of the novel, so shoot me.
The basic truth of the matter was that my mind yearned to do more than simply be. To simply exist is not enough, especially if one has an artistic bent. Scratch that -- it is not human to simply exist, to survive, to eat and sleep, and just make a living. What would be the point? A person must be more than what they do to earn their keep. Some choose painting. Some choose charity work. Others are missionaries. And then there are those like me who like to write. It is my way of contributing positively to humanity. It is the essence of the soul. So, if all one does is work, work, work, the soul is neglected. If it is neglected too long ... viva la revolucion!
I present this to you. One must work to eat. True. But one must create to live. How you find the time is up to you, but find it. Even if there is a ton of things to do. There are five loads of laundry to wash, a ton of dishes, fifteen thousand reports to generate, three billions widgets to manufacture. Stop!
Take a break! Even if you are in the middle of the assembly line building widgets. Take a moment and do what is important to your soul. Even if it is just thirty minutes, do it!
"But I have so much to do!" you yell at me. True, you do. But if you take the time to nourish the soul, you will be reinvigorated and, hence, that much more efficient in completing those three billion widgets. And your attitude will be much better, because you got to do what you like to do. Heck, despite the thirty minutes, or three hours, you lost doing what you enjoy (in my case, writing), you may even find your widget making productivity increase and thereby erase the time lost.
It is necessary to do this, you know. Because if you don't, sure enough ... viva la revolucion!
Friday, January 13, 2012
You've come a long way baby
A whole year has gone by! As the twitterers (or would that be tweeters) might say ... OMG, where have I been?
The last post was over a year ago, and for all two of you out there paying attention to this blog ... well, what can I say. Been busy? Dog ate my homework? I didn't have enough bus fare? The man was dead when I got here!?
No excuse at all, really. I just got distracted with other things in life. Bought a new home, moved my small business, got another dog (three now and counting), did some traveling, and I have been working on my novel.
Oh yeah, did I mention I was working on my novel? Besides everything else that goes on with the daily routine, I 've been working through the completion of the rough draft and now I am about halfway through the second draft. Even that has been, to say the least, time consuming, but unlike many of my contemporaries, I rather enjoy the re-writing and editing process. It is that moment when I am putting meat on the bones of the skeleton, so to speak. And the novel is "beefing up", that's for sure. Actually, it is starting to look like it is on steroids.
But in recent times of working through the process of re-writing, I have come to think about this blog and realized that it has been neglected. And so, like other things that I had to put on the back burner throughout much of 2011, I have decided to exert myself and place renewed vigor on this blog.
Considering where I have been and what I have been doing in the past year, me posting a blog now after all this time means something. It means, it's time to get to work.
The last post was over a year ago, and for all two of you out there paying attention to this blog ... well, what can I say. Been busy? Dog ate my homework? I didn't have enough bus fare? The man was dead when I got here!?
No excuse at all, really. I just got distracted with other things in life. Bought a new home, moved my small business, got another dog (three now and counting), did some traveling, and I have been working on my novel.
Oh yeah, did I mention I was working on my novel? Besides everything else that goes on with the daily routine, I 've been working through the completion of the rough draft and now I am about halfway through the second draft. Even that has been, to say the least, time consuming, but unlike many of my contemporaries, I rather enjoy the re-writing and editing process. It is that moment when I am putting meat on the bones of the skeleton, so to speak. And the novel is "beefing up", that's for sure. Actually, it is starting to look like it is on steroids.
But in recent times of working through the process of re-writing, I have come to think about this blog and realized that it has been neglected. And so, like other things that I had to put on the back burner throughout much of 2011, I have decided to exert myself and place renewed vigor on this blog.
Considering where I have been and what I have been doing in the past year, me posting a blog now after all this time means something. It means, it's time to get to work.
Monday, December 20, 2010
The Power of Positive Positing Propels One to Publication
It's been a while since I posted an article, and this time it was not because I was writing like a rabid dog gnawing on the dead postman's leg either. I just got really busy with the paying job and the writing slowed down a bit.
Well ... that's not entirely what happened, but it was a good excuse at the time (October-November).
Actually, let me start from the beginnning (which is something that supposedly a writer should never do). You see, way back in the summer when I had that big spurt of creative energy, and I had started cranking out all sorts of new stories, I also started looking at the brave new world out there for writers. Let me tell you, things have changed since the last time I tried to submit anything to a publisher.
Now, I am not going to tell you that old man story that starts with, "When I was a boy we used to walk ten miles in the snow just to get to the school bus .... " Nothing like that at all. Actually, what occurred was that the last time I submitted anything for publication we did have the internet and computers, etc., but online publications weren't present as a large and viable market for publication. Now, there were some things in their infancy back in the nineties (sounds like ancient history, right?), but nothing like what I am seeing out there now. The opportunities for would-be writers and those of us still just starting out have exploded exponentially. In fact, there seems to be so many that it makes my head hurt just trying to sift through it all. Not that I am complaining, mind you. Because it was just a few short years ago the opposite was true. Especially when it came to genre fiction, such as fantasy, horror, sci-fi, which is where my twisted brain tends to go creatively speaking. Now it is out there in droves and I think it is great.
So, that's what got to me thinking (back in August-September) -- thinking positively, that is. I looked at the target-rich environment and just knew that if there was ever a time to get published, it was now. Further, I made it a goal to work at what I had in my brain and push myself because I was determined to have something make it into publication before the end of the year. I even set things up in my mind as if my writing was like my business. The creative process became like an assembly line. I would think of an idea. Then I would write the draft. Then I would edit it and polish it. Meanwhile another idea would come into my brain. And then I would write the draft of that. And then edit and polish. And then another idea, and another draft, and more editing. Meantime, I was pushing (and I am still pushing) the various drafts of various stories at my formal critique group to get their feedback on the stories (allowing them to be my rather skilled and knowledgeable focus group) -- to see which stories were working and which ones were meant for the trash. And then once I had corrected whatever my critique group suggested on the various stories that appeared to have some merit, then I started actually doing the one thing that tends to derail some would-be writers, and that is to submit for publication.
Well, what do you think happened? I got started with my assembly line of stories, and I had only gotten about a half-dozen stories moving along to where they were actually being submitted to various publications, most of which are online e-zines, when I came across a genre-based e-zine that was putting out a contest. I submitted one of my stories and after a very long wait (practically until December -- and I had submitted the story in early October), I received the news just a week ago, which is the real reason why I put off writing a blog. I wanted to bring good news to the table and it was taking a little bit of time to receive it from the contest presenters (not their fault -- they're just very busy people). I wanted to bring a little hope to those of you who might be wondering if it really is possible to become a published writer.
Well, Virginia, yes, there is a Santa Claus -- as the line goes.
The story I submitted received third place in the contest and was published on the e-zine's website, electronic rights worldwide. The publication, Anotherealm.com. In my estimation a semi-professional e-zine, but the stories I've read on their site are professionally done and on a creative level with any other story I have seen in an actual (or virtual) print. The e-zine gets high marks in the industry and has been written about in certain books as a good place for beginning writers.
So, I will state the obvious ... I am thrilled.
And it all goes back to one thing: the power of positive thought and applying that thought toward moving forward with publication.
Keep writing and never, never, never give up.
Merry Christmas.
Well ... that's not entirely what happened, but it was a good excuse at the time (October-November).
Actually, let me start from the beginnning (which is something that supposedly a writer should never do). You see, way back in the summer when I had that big spurt of creative energy, and I had started cranking out all sorts of new stories, I also started looking at the brave new world out there for writers. Let me tell you, things have changed since the last time I tried to submit anything to a publisher.
Now, I am not going to tell you that old man story that starts with, "When I was a boy we used to walk ten miles in the snow just to get to the school bus .... " Nothing like that at all. Actually, what occurred was that the last time I submitted anything for publication we did have the internet and computers, etc., but online publications weren't present as a large and viable market for publication. Now, there were some things in their infancy back in the nineties (sounds like ancient history, right?), but nothing like what I am seeing out there now. The opportunities for would-be writers and those of us still just starting out have exploded exponentially. In fact, there seems to be so many that it makes my head hurt just trying to sift through it all. Not that I am complaining, mind you. Because it was just a few short years ago the opposite was true. Especially when it came to genre fiction, such as fantasy, horror, sci-fi, which is where my twisted brain tends to go creatively speaking. Now it is out there in droves and I think it is great.
So, that's what got to me thinking (back in August-September) -- thinking positively, that is. I looked at the target-rich environment and just knew that if there was ever a time to get published, it was now. Further, I made it a goal to work at what I had in my brain and push myself because I was determined to have something make it into publication before the end of the year. I even set things up in my mind as if my writing was like my business. The creative process became like an assembly line. I would think of an idea. Then I would write the draft. Then I would edit it and polish it. Meanwhile another idea would come into my brain. And then I would write the draft of that. And then edit and polish. And then another idea, and another draft, and more editing. Meantime, I was pushing (and I am still pushing) the various drafts of various stories at my formal critique group to get their feedback on the stories (allowing them to be my rather skilled and knowledgeable focus group) -- to see which stories were working and which ones were meant for the trash. And then once I had corrected whatever my critique group suggested on the various stories that appeared to have some merit, then I started actually doing the one thing that tends to derail some would-be writers, and that is to submit for publication.
Well, what do you think happened? I got started with my assembly line of stories, and I had only gotten about a half-dozen stories moving along to where they were actually being submitted to various publications, most of which are online e-zines, when I came across a genre-based e-zine that was putting out a contest. I submitted one of my stories and after a very long wait (practically until December -- and I had submitted the story in early October), I received the news just a week ago, which is the real reason why I put off writing a blog. I wanted to bring good news to the table and it was taking a little bit of time to receive it from the contest presenters (not their fault -- they're just very busy people). I wanted to bring a little hope to those of you who might be wondering if it really is possible to become a published writer.
Well, Virginia, yes, there is a Santa Claus -- as the line goes.
The story I submitted received third place in the contest and was published on the e-zine's website, electronic rights worldwide. The publication, Anotherealm.com. In my estimation a semi-professional e-zine, but the stories I've read on their site are professionally done and on a creative level with any other story I have seen in an actual (or virtual) print. The e-zine gets high marks in the industry and has been written about in certain books as a good place for beginning writers.
So, I will state the obvious ... I am thrilled.
And it all goes back to one thing: the power of positive thought and applying that thought toward moving forward with publication.
Keep writing and never, never, never give up.
Merry Christmas.
Wednesday, September 22, 2010
Left Brain - Write Brain
It's a peculiar thing that goes on in the human brain. One side covers the wild stuff involving creativity and emotions (the inner child stuff), and then the other side is the cooly calculating, logical part (like a Vulcan, for those of you who are Trekkies -- well, actually, a Vulcan may act logical put really they are highly emotional beings who through extreme rituals and years of training have disciplined themselves to control their emotions ... anyway, I digress). So, there are two parts of the human brain (who knows how many parts there are to a Vulcan brain). And it seems to me that they work hand-in-hand quite well when it comes to writing.
Really? You say! Yes, I say, but only after considerable amount of extreme rituals and years of training does it work well. You see, the best thing about writing is that the first thing one must do is simply put words to paper. Don't really think about it, just start babbling on and let your fingers do the walking (or the talking, I guess). That's the creative side of the brain that is unleashed to dash across paper (or the computer screen) with bountiful passion. It's not important that you just created several dozen typos or even purposeful mispellings, or that you have a couple of dangling participals. Just write what comes to mind, and don't stop.
Now the logical part of the brain will always want to come in and put a stop to all this silliness. It's like your mom when you were ten telling you can't do this and you can't do that. Sheesh! And this is what catches up a lot of writers. Catches me still to this very day if I am not careful about it. In fact, sometimes I feel like I have two different people arguing inside my head whenever I write. Sometimes I feel like Cybil, for crying out loud!
And that's where the years of training and extreme rituals come into play. That's why I sometimes now use a kitchen timer to force myself to write quickly so that I can get a good chunk of words down on the paper because it forces the inner child to rebel against the inner parent. But even before I started doing that, I oftentimes in the past found myself first thinking a little about what I wanted to write, and then I would just fall into it. At first, the words would come out slowly as the logical part of my brain kept interrupting, but after about ten minutes of that nonsense, I found myself in a zone of sorts and the flood gate of creativity opened. The logical side settled back and just let the creative side go with it until exhaustion (mentally, anyway) kicked some several hours later. In fact, when that does happen, I tend to lose all track of time altogether. I'll sit down one morning, struggle for about ten to twenty minutes, and then poof ... it's high noon and the Genius (the wife) is staring at me wondering when I am going to pay attention to her.
So, there's this battle that often goes on between the two sides of the brain, but still, it does work well when it comes to writing. Because once the creative side finishes that rough draft, that's when the logical part of the brain stands up and looks at the creative side and says, "Are you finished now? Have you done enough damage to people, property, and participals?" At which point the creative side, panting and sweating, nods in the affirmative and then promptly passes out.
And this is where the logical part seizes the moment. For it is the logical part that casts a critical eye on the mess that has been made of this completed first draft. It is the logical part of the brain that takes the purple prose and makes it bleed red all over the paper by editing the you know what out of what has been done even if it means getting rid of whole paragraphs, no matter how beautifully written, all in the sake of making a cohesive, flowing, and grammatically correct piece of literature. The logical part might be considered evil in some corners of the writing world, but I hold it in high regard. Although my creative side loves the beauty of the words it has slathered all over the place, the logical side makes it flow smoothly, intelligently, cohesively. Without it, no one would ever see the end product in print because it wouldn't be fit to read. So, although many would-be writers despise the editing process (which is what the logical part of the brain does best), this is actually an important, if not the most difficult part. But I assure you, with a little patience (of which even I sometimes am in short supply), a lot of red pens, and a critical eye on what's been done, the editing process is just as important to writing as the creative process. It's what gets us from the left brain to the write brain and back again ... and then hopefully, it gets us a by line.
Really? You say! Yes, I say, but only after considerable amount of extreme rituals and years of training does it work well. You see, the best thing about writing is that the first thing one must do is simply put words to paper. Don't really think about it, just start babbling on and let your fingers do the walking (or the talking, I guess). That's the creative side of the brain that is unleashed to dash across paper (or the computer screen) with bountiful passion. It's not important that you just created several dozen typos or even purposeful mispellings, or that you have a couple of dangling participals. Just write what comes to mind, and don't stop.
Now the logical part of the brain will always want to come in and put a stop to all this silliness. It's like your mom when you were ten telling you can't do this and you can't do that. Sheesh! And this is what catches up a lot of writers. Catches me still to this very day if I am not careful about it. In fact, sometimes I feel like I have two different people arguing inside my head whenever I write. Sometimes I feel like Cybil, for crying out loud!
And that's where the years of training and extreme rituals come into play. That's why I sometimes now use a kitchen timer to force myself to write quickly so that I can get a good chunk of words down on the paper because it forces the inner child to rebel against the inner parent. But even before I started doing that, I oftentimes in the past found myself first thinking a little about what I wanted to write, and then I would just fall into it. At first, the words would come out slowly as the logical part of my brain kept interrupting, but after about ten minutes of that nonsense, I found myself in a zone of sorts and the flood gate of creativity opened. The logical side settled back and just let the creative side go with it until exhaustion (mentally, anyway) kicked some several hours later. In fact, when that does happen, I tend to lose all track of time altogether. I'll sit down one morning, struggle for about ten to twenty minutes, and then poof ... it's high noon and the Genius (the wife) is staring at me wondering when I am going to pay attention to her.
So, there's this battle that often goes on between the two sides of the brain, but still, it does work well when it comes to writing. Because once the creative side finishes that rough draft, that's when the logical part of the brain stands up and looks at the creative side and says, "Are you finished now? Have you done enough damage to people, property, and participals?" At which point the creative side, panting and sweating, nods in the affirmative and then promptly passes out.
And this is where the logical part seizes the moment. For it is the logical part that casts a critical eye on the mess that has been made of this completed first draft. It is the logical part of the brain that takes the purple prose and makes it bleed red all over the paper by editing the you know what out of what has been done even if it means getting rid of whole paragraphs, no matter how beautifully written, all in the sake of making a cohesive, flowing, and grammatically correct piece of literature. The logical part might be considered evil in some corners of the writing world, but I hold it in high regard. Although my creative side loves the beauty of the words it has slathered all over the place, the logical side makes it flow smoothly, intelligently, cohesively. Without it, no one would ever see the end product in print because it wouldn't be fit to read. So, although many would-be writers despise the editing process (which is what the logical part of the brain does best), this is actually an important, if not the most difficult part. But I assure you, with a little patience (of which even I sometimes am in short supply), a lot of red pens, and a critical eye on what's been done, the editing process is just as important to writing as the creative process. It's what gets us from the left brain to the write brain and back again ... and then hopefully, it gets us a by line.
Friday, August 20, 2010
Free Fall Writing (Read: Base Jumping Without A Parachute)
It's been a few weeks since anyone heard from me in the blogosphere. But I am not ashamed about it at all. True, I should be a little more "involved" with posting these little snippets of "wisdom" from a writer-in-progression (or regression), but I have a valid excuse.
The fact of the matter is, I have been writing ... alot! Just not in the blogosphere.
Okay, so here's the straight skinny, boys and girls, and I think it is well worth talking about whether you are a beginning writer or someone in the middle (like yours truly), or a finely-tuned, thoroughbred, Pulitzer Prize winning author.
Back in early July, I was already humming along with numerous story ideas. I even started in on the story about that elephant-shaped mountain in El Paso that we all hiked up to on Independence Day weekend. But then something happened that was rather serendipidous or perhaps even synchonicious (is that a word? I'll have to look that up ... but anyway, you know what I mean). You see, there was a member of my writing critique group that seemed to be struggling with finding the muse, and I was concerned a bit about her. Also, I was looking at the time constraints I had for my own writing and wanted to find out more on how to compose flash fiction. So, one day when work at the office was blessedly mellow (which is very unusual), I left the office in the charge of the genius (read: beloved bride) and I sauntered off to the bookstore.
My intent was to find a "how to write" book for my struggling-with-writers-block friend and also something for me that would enlighten me about this flash fiction writing craze that had come about in the last few years. Flash fiction, by the way, really isn't something new. It's just a new name for something that's been around forever. Back in the old days we used to call flash fiction, short shorts ... meaning, short stories that are usually around 1000 words or less. Someone in the beginning years of the twenty-first century decided to call it flash fiction and the term caught on and took off from there. Now the flash fiction concept sort of appealed to me, having spent a great deal of time writing a couple of novels that would take anywhere from several months to several years to bring them to near completion, all to have them end up sitting in a box in my closet. Flash fiction would be something that works well with someone like me who often jokes about having ADHD (I really don't), and certainly has very little time to write (being that I have a full-time, demanding small business along with a family and a life for crying out loud).
So, anyway, I digress ... but not really. You see, I figured, why not do some really short pieces and see where things go. Writing a story with fewer than 1000 words would make for some quick pieces and might work well with my tight schedule. Sure, it would be challenging to squeeze plot, description, characterization, and purple prose all into a very tiny box, but I was up for the challenge.
So, there I was in the bookstore, and I came across this book in the writers reference section called "Take Ten". And it had all these little exercises where I was provided with a scenario for a story, or a first line for a story, or the basic premise of a plot, or a rudimentary outline for a particular character, etc., and then I was given multiple options or "twists" to plug in with these various scenarios and premises. And to add to all of that the entire book was set up like a game or a contest of sorts where once I had randomly picked one of these exercises, I was given only ten minutes to write a story based on what had been picked.
This intrigued the creative side of my brain, but threatened the logical side (read: the critic). The creative side said, "Cool, this could lead to all sorts of neat little story ideas and would force me to do these stories quickly because I was racing against the clock." But the logical side of my brain said, "Uh, what are you talking about? Ten minutes to put something together without any thought put into it. You're out of your mind. Writing a good story takes planning and careful meditation on the story background, the characterization, the subtle weaving of simile and metaphor. Forget about it!"
But for the first time in a very long time, the creative side of my brain rebelled and cast off the chains which the logical side of my brain had shackled it with, and I bought the book. I was going to try it, by God, and the logical said of my brain be damned.
So, I went home that night and started looking through the book. I picked out one of the exercises that looked to me, at first, like it might fit with my genre of science fiction. It was one of these premises about writing a story about time standing still and everything and everyone freezing in place like they had, well, been turned to ice. I thought, excellent! Let's do it! This is right up my alley!
I set up the alarm clock, turned on the computer, picked my excercise ... and jumped.
It was like running off the edge of a cliff and plummeting thousands feet. Logically, I knew what this was about, this feeling I was feeling. Writing is best done when the creative side is allowed to free fall without a parachute ... but not to a certain death. Quite the contrary! That base jump into complete unknown creativity was the most life giving and exhilarating experience a writer can have. It was a rush. And when my alarm clock went off, I was amazed at what I had come up with in less than a thousand words. It was a very interesting story that, surprisingly, had nothing to do with science fiction or fantasy. Instead, it was a mainstream flash fiction piece about a surprising revelation uncovered amongst the relationship of long-time friends. It actually came out better than I could have expected. I even eventually presented it to my writing critique group, and they really liked it (and they weren't just saying that to make me feel good, either, as they are actually my harshest critics).
After that little experience, I did several more of these exercises. In fact, within the course of two weeks, I had written ten very interesting and very coherent pieces (at least I think so). Not all of them turned out to be flash fiction pieces, but the process of base jumping, of free fall writing, sent me into creative overdrive that has barely slowed since mid-July and I am currently at 18 new stories within a matter of just a few weeks all without causing dreadful harm to my business or my family life. In fact, the genius is actually quite content because it gives her time now to do what she likes .... painting.
As for my fellow critique group writer who is having writer's block. I have a little book for her and I am not so sure I am going to wait until Christmas to give it to her, either.
The fact of the matter is, I have been writing ... alot! Just not in the blogosphere.
Okay, so here's the straight skinny, boys and girls, and I think it is well worth talking about whether you are a beginning writer or someone in the middle (like yours truly), or a finely-tuned, thoroughbred, Pulitzer Prize winning author.
Back in early July, I was already humming along with numerous story ideas. I even started in on the story about that elephant-shaped mountain in El Paso that we all hiked up to on Independence Day weekend. But then something happened that was rather serendipidous or perhaps even synchonicious (is that a word? I'll have to look that up ... but anyway, you know what I mean). You see, there was a member of my writing critique group that seemed to be struggling with finding the muse, and I was concerned a bit about her. Also, I was looking at the time constraints I had for my own writing and wanted to find out more on how to compose flash fiction. So, one day when work at the office was blessedly mellow (which is very unusual), I left the office in the charge of the genius (read: beloved bride) and I sauntered off to the bookstore.
My intent was to find a "how to write" book for my struggling-with-writers-block friend and also something for me that would enlighten me about this flash fiction writing craze that had come about in the last few years. Flash fiction, by the way, really isn't something new. It's just a new name for something that's been around forever. Back in the old days we used to call flash fiction, short shorts ... meaning, short stories that are usually around 1000 words or less. Someone in the beginning years of the twenty-first century decided to call it flash fiction and the term caught on and took off from there. Now the flash fiction concept sort of appealed to me, having spent a great deal of time writing a couple of novels that would take anywhere from several months to several years to bring them to near completion, all to have them end up sitting in a box in my closet. Flash fiction would be something that works well with someone like me who often jokes about having ADHD (I really don't), and certainly has very little time to write (being that I have a full-time, demanding small business along with a family and a life for crying out loud).
So, anyway, I digress ... but not really. You see, I figured, why not do some really short pieces and see where things go. Writing a story with fewer than 1000 words would make for some quick pieces and might work well with my tight schedule. Sure, it would be challenging to squeeze plot, description, characterization, and purple prose all into a very tiny box, but I was up for the challenge.
So, there I was in the bookstore, and I came across this book in the writers reference section called "Take Ten". And it had all these little exercises where I was provided with a scenario for a story, or a first line for a story, or the basic premise of a plot, or a rudimentary outline for a particular character, etc., and then I was given multiple options or "twists" to plug in with these various scenarios and premises. And to add to all of that the entire book was set up like a game or a contest of sorts where once I had randomly picked one of these exercises, I was given only ten minutes to write a story based on what had been picked.
This intrigued the creative side of my brain, but threatened the logical side (read: the critic). The creative side said, "Cool, this could lead to all sorts of neat little story ideas and would force me to do these stories quickly because I was racing against the clock." But the logical side of my brain said, "Uh, what are you talking about? Ten minutes to put something together without any thought put into it. You're out of your mind. Writing a good story takes planning and careful meditation on the story background, the characterization, the subtle weaving of simile and metaphor. Forget about it!"
But for the first time in a very long time, the creative side of my brain rebelled and cast off the chains which the logical side of my brain had shackled it with, and I bought the book. I was going to try it, by God, and the logical said of my brain be damned.
So, I went home that night and started looking through the book. I picked out one of the exercises that looked to me, at first, like it might fit with my genre of science fiction. It was one of these premises about writing a story about time standing still and everything and everyone freezing in place like they had, well, been turned to ice. I thought, excellent! Let's do it! This is right up my alley!
I set up the alarm clock, turned on the computer, picked my excercise ... and jumped.
It was like running off the edge of a cliff and plummeting thousands feet. Logically, I knew what this was about, this feeling I was feeling. Writing is best done when the creative side is allowed to free fall without a parachute ... but not to a certain death. Quite the contrary! That base jump into complete unknown creativity was the most life giving and exhilarating experience a writer can have. It was a rush. And when my alarm clock went off, I was amazed at what I had come up with in less than a thousand words. It was a very interesting story that, surprisingly, had nothing to do with science fiction or fantasy. Instead, it was a mainstream flash fiction piece about a surprising revelation uncovered amongst the relationship of long-time friends. It actually came out better than I could have expected. I even eventually presented it to my writing critique group, and they really liked it (and they weren't just saying that to make me feel good, either, as they are actually my harshest critics).
After that little experience, I did several more of these exercises. In fact, within the course of two weeks, I had written ten very interesting and very coherent pieces (at least I think so). Not all of them turned out to be flash fiction pieces, but the process of base jumping, of free fall writing, sent me into creative overdrive that has barely slowed since mid-July and I am currently at 18 new stories within a matter of just a few weeks all without causing dreadful harm to my business or my family life. In fact, the genius is actually quite content because it gives her time now to do what she likes .... painting.
As for my fellow critique group writer who is having writer's block. I have a little book for her and I am not so sure I am going to wait until Christmas to give it to her, either.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Stories Everywhere
I am often asked where I come up with story ideas. Yes, even the wife (read: genius) seems to wonder just where I come up with some of the ideas for various stories. I mean, I write science fiction and fantasy. It's a lot of mythical creatures, totally made-up aliens, technological gadgets that (so far as we know) have not yet been invented, and far off places that either don't exist or we do not currently know of their existence.
So where do the stories come from?
For the typical mainstream writer, they can often draw from their own real life experiences; a sort of fictionalizing of their real life, so to speak. Others, through vicarious observation, draft stories of things that happen in everyday life, but to other people.
But us writers of scifi/fantasy? Where do the ideas come from without having to re-shape an old episode of Star Trek that we watched in 1992?
And no, I am not a frequent user of peyote or any other psychedelic drugs, natural or synthetic. I was, however, once accused of "smoking something" by one of my fellow critique group friends for coming up with a particularly bizarre fantasy that everyone in the group loved (despite the bizarre backdrop and details of the story), but no, drug free except for the multi-vitamins in the morning. The genius has me taking about three thousand different supplements every morning, sheesh -- wait a tick, maybe she's behind the whole ... naah, couldn't be her doing, I've been this way long before she came along and brightened my days.
No, I have always been this way, coming up with neat little ideas that spring into my mind at the most inconvenient and surprising moments. Inconvenient in the sense that they often happen while I am in the midst of a business-related deadline. Surprising in the sense that they come out of nothing, really. I am not even thinking about doing a story on anything, and then like Emeril "Bam!", there it is.
So there must be only one conclusion I can draw: I am the victim of a rather overactive imagination, I .... uh, imagine.
I really don't know how it was that I became a victim of my imagination. It just happened. Perhaps it was all those years growing up in a small town without much in the way of actual replicas of toy guns or swords (my brother and I oftened fashioned these things from sticks and stones), and many of our school friends lived in another town several miles away, so we had to come up things to amuse us other than mindlessly sitting in the front of the television (although there was plenty of that, too).
So, there it is, a victim of imagination, and so now everytime I turn the corner something sometimes inconvenient and frequently surprising hits me up along the head. Shortly thereafter, I am no longer paying attention to what is going on around me, but rather immersed in a story line to go along with what just happened to me when my imagination once again victimized me.
Here's a perfect example of what I mean by all of this. Last weekend, after much discussion and debate, the genius and I decided to take a short trip to El Paso, Texas. I know what you are saying ... "El Paso? Why would you want to go there?" I will tell you. We had some good friends recently move there and being the tightwads that we are, we decided a vacation where we could crash on their sofa-bed was a lot cheaper than one requiring a reservation. Just teasing about the latter part. Actually, our good friends had moved out there, a younger couple with some wild notion of taming the world by starting out with El Paso. I "imagine" they figured if they could make it there they could make it anywhere (I thought that place was New York?). But anyway, I digress. So, we head off to El Paso for a visit. They're a nice couple and fairly active and adventurous ... and then we come along. From the moment we are off the plane we hit the ground running, and we're off to the Franklin Mountains. My understanding is that these mountains are some sort of southern cousins of the Rockies and they're right there on the edge of El Paso.
And then up we go hiking 1700 meters toward the top of this ridge where, of all things, is this rock formation that looks like a gigantic elephant sprawled out on its belly overlooking the arroyo below. And the whole time we are hiking, we are chatting and carrying on like the fools that we are, toiling in the heat that is July in west Texas, just having a great time.
Now from far away, it looked like any other uplift of granite or basalt or whatever mountains are made of, but as we journeyed upward and closer, it did look very much like an elephant was up there; a gigantic, gray elephant with a trunk that was partially resting on the ridge, but the last bit of the trunk was curved upwards and pointing to the sky.
And that's where my imagination chose to strike at me. Caught me in its clutches at my most vulnerable ... sweating, tired, bum left knee wobbling. Definitely a predatory creature my imagination is as it always seems to sense weak prey and cull it from the herd at just the right moment.
We made it to the top, stood upon the elephant's trunk, and even found a cool spot in a small cave to rest and admire the view around us. But on the way back my brain was already working overtime. I remember even being asked on the way down why I was so suddenly quiet, and I simply replied that I was "contemplating". But my companions were surely thinking that I was quiet due to exhaustion (after all, we were working on our third hour of hiking at that point). And perhaps I was exhausted, physically, but my mind had been consumed by my imagination.
By the time we were done, it was clear to me that the elephant on the ridge was merely sleeping, and that if someone were to go up there and climb on top, the elephant might just wake up, take a look around, and perhaps then cause a little mayhem. Later, as we all continue down to the bottom of the mountains, and then returned to El Paso to enjoy dinner and conversation, the story line further developed in which fictional characters became involved in waking the elephant and this led to a "rocky" adventure (sorry, I had to do it) involving magical gems, daring thieves, and an avalanche that wiped out an entirely made-up city.
Will the story turn out to be published? Will it turn out to be an award winner? Who knows? Who may even care? For me, it is more the journey than the destination when it comes to writing. I enjoy the process, and somewhere along the way something surprising just might happen ... like it did in the west Texas town of El Paso.
So, now you ask me, how is it that I come upon story ideas. They are everywhere. They are all around you and me. The key is in letting yourself be vulnerable enough to become a victim of your imagination.
So where do the stories come from?
For the typical mainstream writer, they can often draw from their own real life experiences; a sort of fictionalizing of their real life, so to speak. Others, through vicarious observation, draft stories of things that happen in everyday life, but to other people.
But us writers of scifi/fantasy? Where do the ideas come from without having to re-shape an old episode of Star Trek that we watched in 1992?
And no, I am not a frequent user of peyote or any other psychedelic drugs, natural or synthetic. I was, however, once accused of "smoking something" by one of my fellow critique group friends for coming up with a particularly bizarre fantasy that everyone in the group loved (despite the bizarre backdrop and details of the story), but no, drug free except for the multi-vitamins in the morning. The genius has me taking about three thousand different supplements every morning, sheesh -- wait a tick, maybe she's behind the whole ... naah, couldn't be her doing, I've been this way long before she came along and brightened my days.
No, I have always been this way, coming up with neat little ideas that spring into my mind at the most inconvenient and surprising moments. Inconvenient in the sense that they often happen while I am in the midst of a business-related deadline. Surprising in the sense that they come out of nothing, really. I am not even thinking about doing a story on anything, and then like Emeril "Bam!", there it is.
So there must be only one conclusion I can draw: I am the victim of a rather overactive imagination, I .... uh, imagine.
I really don't know how it was that I became a victim of my imagination. It just happened. Perhaps it was all those years growing up in a small town without much in the way of actual replicas of toy guns or swords (my brother and I oftened fashioned these things from sticks and stones), and many of our school friends lived in another town several miles away, so we had to come up things to amuse us other than mindlessly sitting in the front of the television (although there was plenty of that, too).
So, there it is, a victim of imagination, and so now everytime I turn the corner something sometimes inconvenient and frequently surprising hits me up along the head. Shortly thereafter, I am no longer paying attention to what is going on around me, but rather immersed in a story line to go along with what just happened to me when my imagination once again victimized me.
Here's a perfect example of what I mean by all of this. Last weekend, after much discussion and debate, the genius and I decided to take a short trip to El Paso, Texas. I know what you are saying ... "El Paso? Why would you want to go there?" I will tell you. We had some good friends recently move there and being the tightwads that we are, we decided a vacation where we could crash on their sofa-bed was a lot cheaper than one requiring a reservation. Just teasing about the latter part. Actually, our good friends had moved out there, a younger couple with some wild notion of taming the world by starting out with El Paso. I "imagine" they figured if they could make it there they could make it anywhere (I thought that place was New York?). But anyway, I digress. So, we head off to El Paso for a visit. They're a nice couple and fairly active and adventurous ... and then we come along. From the moment we are off the plane we hit the ground running, and we're off to the Franklin Mountains. My understanding is that these mountains are some sort of southern cousins of the Rockies and they're right there on the edge of El Paso.
And then up we go hiking 1700 meters toward the top of this ridge where, of all things, is this rock formation that looks like a gigantic elephant sprawled out on its belly overlooking the arroyo below. And the whole time we are hiking, we are chatting and carrying on like the fools that we are, toiling in the heat that is July in west Texas, just having a great time.
Now from far away, it looked like any other uplift of granite or basalt or whatever mountains are made of, but as we journeyed upward and closer, it did look very much like an elephant was up there; a gigantic, gray elephant with a trunk that was partially resting on the ridge, but the last bit of the trunk was curved upwards and pointing to the sky.
And that's where my imagination chose to strike at me. Caught me in its clutches at my most vulnerable ... sweating, tired, bum left knee wobbling. Definitely a predatory creature my imagination is as it always seems to sense weak prey and cull it from the herd at just the right moment.
We made it to the top, stood upon the elephant's trunk, and even found a cool spot in a small cave to rest and admire the view around us. But on the way back my brain was already working overtime. I remember even being asked on the way down why I was so suddenly quiet, and I simply replied that I was "contemplating". But my companions were surely thinking that I was quiet due to exhaustion (after all, we were working on our third hour of hiking at that point). And perhaps I was exhausted, physically, but my mind had been consumed by my imagination.
By the time we were done, it was clear to me that the elephant on the ridge was merely sleeping, and that if someone were to go up there and climb on top, the elephant might just wake up, take a look around, and perhaps then cause a little mayhem. Later, as we all continue down to the bottom of the mountains, and then returned to El Paso to enjoy dinner and conversation, the story line further developed in which fictional characters became involved in waking the elephant and this led to a "rocky" adventure (sorry, I had to do it) involving magical gems, daring thieves, and an avalanche that wiped out an entirely made-up city.
Will the story turn out to be published? Will it turn out to be an award winner? Who knows? Who may even care? For me, it is more the journey than the destination when it comes to writing. I enjoy the process, and somewhere along the way something surprising just might happen ... like it did in the west Texas town of El Paso.
So, now you ask me, how is it that I come upon story ideas. They are everywhere. They are all around you and me. The key is in letting yourself be vulnerable enough to become a victim of your imagination.
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