The Writer's Junkyard

I've started a new manuscript and to my surprise, it was a challenge putting words on the page. I found myself struggling with the perpetual dilemma--either going forward as a panster or as an outliner. For the last few years I've been a ghostwriter and prided myself on churning out prose like a machine. In order not to waste my client's time, we'd discuss the story and I'd put together a chapter outline. I cautioned the client that an outline was a place to deviate from but at least the narrative had direction.

If this worked well for me as a ghostwriter, why not an outline for my book?  Honestly, I tried but my story became a jumbled mess. I had several challenges, the first being world building. Although I'm writing about modern Denver, a place I'm very familiar with, the issue was, what to tell? How to capture the ambiance of the city without bogging down into a travelogue? And the plot involved characters from a social environment outside my experience--conniving politicians, treacherous gangsters, and overworked, cynical police officers. Writing a thriller set in space or one involving vampires and werewolves, no problem. Readers in that genre are quite willing to suspend disbelief. But write a story, even in obvious fictionalized form, about the contemporary world and the bar to hold the reader's trust is much higher. Plus, writers often talk about the "white room," a scene where characters are little more than disembodied voices. I had the opposite problem, the creative space in my head was like a junkyard, crammed with pieces of research and ideas that I'd accumulated. There was so much detail that I got overwhelmed and my word count stalled. 

I tried the technique of writing chapters as separate episodes instead of chronologically. I found myself wrestling with the story timeline and the risk of devoting too much attention to secondary characters in a way that would derail my original plot. So I took the advice that we published writers give to newbie scribes, and to quote Pablo Picasso: "Inspiration exists, but it has to find you working."

Thus self-chastised, I returned to my proven strategy of sitting at the keyboard and proceeding from beginning to end. Before I knew it, I was ten chapters in, a quarter of the way through this new book. Spoiler alert. Expect lots of murder in the near future.

Out of Season

 

I have this silly morning glory plant that thinks it's a perennial. It's not. It's an annual. It thinks it's purple, too, instead of the usual bright blue. But there it is. Against all reason and the laws of nature. I'm amazed and I love this tenacious little rebel.  

This glorious little flower and Barbara's post put in mind of writing out of season and under trying circumstances. I have no idea how I managed to write when I had little children and a truck-driving husband who was gone a lot. After Don bought the truckline, everything was easier. Our joke was that after we were married twenty years we decided to try living together. 

Becoming a writer requires a great deal of tenacity. I think that's why I developed a quota system: five pages a day, five days a week. As I grew more successful the challenges of raising kids were replaced by the reality of 21st century marketing demands. There is always something that threatens to sabotage my writing. Email is simultaneously a blessing and a curse. 

Looking back, I don't know how I survived without Google. It's a pleasure to find quick answers to research questions. I used to rely on interlibrary loan. It involved lengthy delays and when a precious book arrived I would get suckered in to reading the whole thing. I read a whole book on fitting horse collars just to get one paragraph right for Come Spring.  

My microfilm collection is extensive. I use it to write academic stuff. I even have my own microfilm reader. It's not a printer, so I have to take some reels to our university library to print out hard copy. 

One of the biggest traps of becoming serious about writing is insisting on writing under ideal conditions. It simply has never happened for me. I would love to say I always write in the same place, at the same time every day, but in fact the only thing that's stable is my output.

For me, the quota system works for first drafts. Barbara and I both do a first draft in longhand. When I transfer this to the computer, the requirements are different. I type in a chapter a day, try to incorporate my notes, and straighten out plot issues. 

I have a peculiar method of outlining after I've written a chapter in longhand. I type a summary of the chapter with the setting at the top, the page span, and most important, the chain of events.

Ah, that chain of events. If nothing is actually happening in this summary, nothing is happening in the novel. It's deadly dull.  

This outline is printed on pink paper. Pink for promise. I tack each chapter on a cork strip. The pages are then replaced with yellow ones, because the light is beginning to dawn and I try to fix the mess. When these pages are replaced with blue ones, it means I'm going after language. This manuscript is now true blue. As good as I can do. 

Like my little morning glory it's my own way of doing things. Despite all logic or reasoning. 

Confronting dull as dust

More thoughts on Sybil's and Aline's posts, both of which resonate so vividly with us all. It's so nice to feel we writers are not alone in our madness.

I have a twist to add to Aline's seven stages of writing. In my case, the desperation stage usually hits when I realize not only do I not have enough plot thrills and twists to fill 300+ pages, but the 64 pages I have written are as dull as dust.

I write two different types of books – my Rapid Reads novellas which are about 20,000 words, and my regular mystery novels, typically 90,000. The Rapid Reads have several constraints, including a linear storyline with no flashbacks or subplots, and a limited number of characters. I suspect we all cheat a bit on the subplot bit; they are, after all, often an integral part of the main plot.

Writing my full-length mysteries, I used to be a pure pantser writer, putting pen to paper as soon as I had the opening scene in mind and moving forward as each next scene came to me. Hence I never had an idea where I was going, how long it would take, and where I would land up. Everyone who writes this way knows how terrifying it can be. Periods of desperation, inspiration, and elation oscillate throughout the whole first draft. As I've evolved into more complex plots with several points of view, intersecting storylines and flashbacks, however, I've discovered that flying purely by the seat of my pants doesn't work too well; I need to keep track of where things are going and make sure the different storylines mesh. So I have developed a hybrid pantser/plotter style. I still don't know where the whole thing is going nor where it will end up, but I can see a half dozen scenes ahead and know what needs to come next.

I credit this change to my Rapid Reads experience. Because in the beginning, the publisher required a detailed chapter outline before sending the contract, I learned to think the story through from beginning to end, with each step along the way. I didn't enjoy it, but I discovered with a linear, 20,000 story, it was fairly easy to do. And it does make writing that first draft a much smoother, less terrifying process.

This is where the "desperation because this story is dull as dust" problem rears its head, however. What looked in the outline to be enough story to fill 20,000 pages turned out to be plodding and flat. Outlines do not give you the sense of drama that is needed to sustain interest. "And then he talked to the police and learned..." looks as if it should fill a chapter, but much more conflict is needed. Not just obvious, simple conflicts, like the cop doesn't want to talk to him, or the cop is dating his ex-wife, but an unexpected twist that adds a new dimension to the story and often takes it on another path entirely. Which is why I never liked outlines in the first place. Inspiration comes to me when I am deep in the scene, when a character says or does something, and I think "ahah! that's a way cooler idea!"

I am at that stage in my current Rapid Reads project. Halfway through, and aware that I need something to spice it up. The joke among crime writers is this is where you drop another body down the chimney, or send a woman through the door with a gun. But merely adding random twists will not always make a book more intriguing – we've all read books where we rolled our eyes and said "oh not another car chase, or explosion, or even dead body." The truly great twists come out of the story that came before and affect the characters on a powerful personal level. They need to deepen the tension, raise the suspense, and confound the characters as well as the readers.

A neat trick. Finding that perfect twist is the challenge of this "dull as dust" stage. I fret and argue and reread and ask "What if? What else? What is the worst that can happen?" And sometimes I just carry on, hoping the inspiration will fall into my lap somewhere down the line. Sometimes it only comes during the rewrites. All I can do is hope that eventually it does. Stay tuned.

The Fork in the Road

When last we met at this spot on March 22, Dear Reader, I (Donis) wrote about reaching the middle of my work in progress. I was feeling like I had veered off into the weeds and was having to slog my way around a bit in order to find my way back onto the road. In the two weeks that have passed, I have managed to get back onto the highway and get moving again. So here I am, speeding along nicely, when much to my discomfort I come to a fork in the road. Which way should I go?

You may wonder why I don’t have a map. Well, I did, once. Kind of. But my map no longer leads me to where I want to go. I was told once by a mystery author (who also happens to be a lawyer - a significant detail, I think), that before she begins writing, she outlines each and every one of her novels to the tune of at least one hundred pages, and never deviates therefrom.  One Very Big Name of my acquaintance never outlines at all, or even has much in mind when she begins her mammoth novels.  She writes dozens of seemingly unrelated episodes, then arranges them in some sort of order and cobbles them together with new scenes and segues.  This technique may sound pretty slapdash, but it seems to work for this woman, since she could buy and sell us all.

I have done both.  Each book seems to be a whole new order of creation for me, and demands its own unique method of coming into being.  I’ve been known to outline before I begin when I think that would help me clarify the direction of the plot in my own mind.  I have also simply started writing, usually at the beginning, but I’ve started in the middle and the end, as well.  More than once I’ve begun a novel on the fly, and then gone back and created an outline because I’ve gotten myself into a muddle and can’t quite figure the way out. It’s not like this has never happened to me before, and I must remember that miraculously it always works out. As I write the first draft, my beginnings never do match the end, for somewhere in the middle of the story, I changed my mind about this character, or this action, or this story line. I try not to waste time by going back to the beginning and fixing it to fit my new vision. No, no, that way lies madness. I can get (and have gotten) caught up in an endless merry-go-round of fixes and never reach the end. I just have to keep going until the book is done.

When I was a pre-teen, I spent several summers at Girl Scout Camp, way out in the woods outside of Locust Grove, OK. One of our activities was something called a Penny Walk. We would hike down a long, maze-like path through the woods, and every time we came to a fork in the trail, the point-girl would toss a penny to decide which way to go.  Every walk was different from the one before, yet we always found our way back.

So I hope to construct this new novel like a penny walk, and every time I come to a fork in the road, I’ll make a decision which way to go, and trust that it will lead me home.

Confronting that vast empty space

Hah! It worked. Barbara here, and actually on time for my Wednesday Type M blog post. Two weeks ago I posted that I was always forgetting because I had a very casual relationship with the calendar and the days of the week, so I had vowed to put an alert into my electronic calendar. The result? Here I am.

I might add that I am also looking for any excuse to avoid my current writing project. I have not yet reached the "cleaning the refrigerator" stage, but that might yet come. Writing first drafts is incredibly hard work, especially when you are staring out over that vast expanse of emptiness, knowing you have to fill it with roughly 90,000 words, and knowing a deadline hovers overhead, ready to crow in your ear or peck at your heels.

The first in the Amanda Doucette series

As part of the original contract for this novel, signed over two years ago, I had to dream up a title and "synopsis" for the book, along with those for the two previous books in the contract. At the time, that third book seemed awfully far away, and every writer knows a synopsis for a hypothetical book three years out usually bears little resemblance to the book that eventually gets written. Better ideas come along, or the idea, hastily dashed off, does not stand up under closer scrutiny. Furthermore, I am mostly a fly by the seat of my pants writer who finds outlines tedious and confining and who prefers to leap in and see where things go.

So here I am, with the two previous books in the Amanda Doucette series written – the first released in last September and the second due out this coming September – and running out of excuses to confront the third book. I have a title, PRISONERS OF HOPE, that is not likely to change and I know vaguely what theme I want to explore and probably who will get killed to kick things off, but Ive been keeping my options open in case better ideas come along in the writing.

About a month ago I leaped into the opening scene and wrote forward for about forty pages before hitting a wall. I did not know where this story was going, I didn't know what the characters should do next or why anyone should care. I have three main characters to play with (and a dog, but she doesn't get to tell her own story), which is one reason the pantser approach is such a challenge. One of the tricks I devised for unlocking a stalled story is to check what one of the other characters is up to. So I bravely soldiered on with my second character, until he too hit a wall. I fussed and fretted, took long walks, cleaned the house (well, sort of), and finally realized I had to brainstorm ahead. In other words, sketch out a dreaded outline, at least to get me out of this dead-end into which I had stumbled.

Georgian Bay, the setting of Prisoners of Hope

As soon as I started looking ahead and applied myself to the overall picture, I realized I needed to boot one character out of the story, at least temporarily. Her presence was clogging up the scenes and dialogue between the two more important characters through the first forty pages. Secondly, I changed my mind three times on who needed to die, all in the interests of generating juicy suspense and creating lots of questions. Then I brainstormed the next twenty scenes in rapid succession, ending up with an outline of what will likely happen in the next hundred or so pages. That is all I need for now. By page 150, I should be well into the story and lots of characters and subplots will be milling around, providing fuel for my imagination for the next 100 pages or more.

This morning I printed out my outline and wrote the first two scenes in it. Everything went fairly smoothly and what a relief it was to have something to remind me where I was going and why. I'm not saying I will ever learn to love outlines or even that I will actually follow this one if a better idea flies into view, but at least I am moving forward in the maze with some confidence that I am not in a dead-end.

I will keep you posted on how it all works out for me. How do other pantsers feel when they confront that vast empty space and realize they are lost?

Neither a pantser nor a plotter be

Barbara here. I really enjoy following Rick on this blog's rotation schedule, because he always gets me thinking, which inspires me with blog topics when I am down to the wire. He and I have walked a similar writing path and hence share many experiences and insights. I too have a stack of full-length novels on my resume as well as three novellas. Rick and I have the same publishers for both. Thankfully, I don't write advertizing copy but I do write short stories and indeed have just finished one entitled The Lighthouse for a cross-genre, Poe-inspired anthology put together by horror/ dark fantasy writer Nancy Kilpatrick and eclectic, "anything goes", mystery writer Caro Soles. Look for nEvermore! from Edge Publishers later this year.

Short stories share with ad copy the same economy of words and powerful punch. Each word has to count, and there is no space or time to waste. Like poetry, short stories have to make every word and action the most perfect choice it can be. They are rigorous training for any serious writer.

Like Rick, I have confronted the issue of outlining at various times over the past 20 years. Or its variant, synopsis writing. Generally, publishers love them and writers hate them. Publishers want evidence that you know what you're doing and will produce a credible story at the end of the day. Some writers – the sort who outline fanatically – do know what they're doing, but some of us are straitjacketed by outlines, have little idea where we are going, and prefer to just let ourselves loose on the page. It's always terrifying, but after ten published novels (and numerous "practice novels") I've learned to trust that it works. No doubt it is not the easiest or most comfortable way to write a novel, but for some of us, it's the most creative way. I've often joked to incredulous readers that if I don't know where I'm going, how can the reader possibly know?

However, as Rick mentioned, the publisher of our novellas wants a detailed chapter outline before the contract is signed, so I have learned to do those. It helps that these novellas have a single point of view and a simple, linear plot. And they are short. No back story or flashbacks, no interwoven subplots, multiple story lines or three hundred pages of unwieldy plot. I start at the beginning of the story and brainstorm to the end before I write the actual prose. Things may change in the writing and characters may surprise me, but the bones of the story are there to act as guideposts throughout the writing process.

I have just today finished the first draft of a brand new, full-length novel in a new series. In this project, everything was an unknown. The characters were all strangers to me, the setting was unfamiliar, and for the first time I was writing an amateur sleuth adventure thriller instead of a police procedural, so I had none of my usual signposts to follow. Although I normally write multiple point of view, in this novel I was writing scenes not only from three points of view but also with three simultaneous story lines coverging towards the final climax.

It was terrifying. Incredibly hard work. I found I couldn't simply let myself loose on the page, because I was weaving a story involving multiple threads, so not only did I have to ask myself what would this character be doing next, but what are the other characters doing at the same time? I've never been one for lists or charts or coloured index cards, but I found myself keeping a file of notes on my ideas as the plot progressed. Notes on what I thought might come next and on problems I had to fix in the story I'd already written.

And I found myself doing mini-outlines. Not of the novel from beginning to end, but at pivotal points in the story, I would take stock, brainstorm forward three or four scenes, and jot the scene ideas down. When I'd written those, I'd imagine the next few. In fits and starts, I made my way to the end of the novel. Part free form, part outline. Now that it's done, I feel it was creative but still controlled, and I am ready with my file of notes for the rewrites.

Perhaps this will be the new style for me, one of the truly diehard pantsers. Neither a panther nor a plotter be, but a manageable hybrid of the two. We shall see.