Preparation

by Catherine Dilts 

Gardening and fiction writing both begin with a dream. In writing, it’s the spark of a story idea. In gardening, the dream is often born in the depths of winter, with a yearning for warm days and neat rows of green things. For either of these dreams to come true, you have to prepare.

What might sound surprising is that the preparation phase in gardening is not about seeds and plants. Not quite yet. Before ever putting a shovel in the ground, you plot out a garden. Measure your gardening space. How much room do you have? How many plants can you grow in that space? What variety will produce the number of tomatoes you hope to harvest? Will you really pick and use cilantro or dill? A certain amount of planning is prudent.

Fiction writing requires preparation, too. Writers have likely heard of the Panster versus Plotter techniques. Pantsers start on page one and just write, letting the story flow under its own steam. Plotters outline their story, like a driver marking their route to a destination on a map.

I have learned through trial and error that I need to outline heavily. Otherwise, I write myself into a corner. I spend hours returning to the beginning of the story to install the clues and red herrings needed in a good mystery. Outlining helps me avoid that.

Most writers aren’t 100% a Pantser or Plotter. Every Pantser I’ve talked to does have, at bare minimum, an idea of where the story is going. And although I tediously outline my stories from beginning to end, they frequently diverge from that carefully crafted path, taking a surprising and unplanned route.

Preparation to plant a garden or write a story can be agonizing for me. But tossing a handful of random seeds onto the ground will be unlikely to produce the vegetables I want. Likewise, throwing words onto my computer in any kind of order usually results in an unreadable mess.

Once the preparation is complete, and I have a map for the garden or the story, the next part of the work starts. Now the real fun begins.

(Note on photo: With preparation, I was able to start a second crop of lettuce in late August after harvesting zucchini.)

Messy middles and beyond

 I have enjoyed both Charlotte's and Donis's posts this week, and boy, can I identify. Every comment and experience they related made me smile. I too am a "mostly" pantser, who never outlines at the beginning because that would be a boring way to write a novel and the outline would just get thrown away anyway. Not only do I like the surprises that my imagination comes up with along the way, but the richness, depth and direction of the novel comes to me during the writing. If I were following a pre-conceived outline, all that would be lost. It would feel like "paint by number" writing.

I do, however, sometimes have to lift my head above the parapet to see where I'm going. As new ideas come to me for upcoming scenes, I scribble them down so I won't forget them, and they act as an outline of sorts for the next few scenes. Sometimes I have to brainstorm or change direction to get myself out of a dead end (or more likely a tangle).

The "messy middle" is where I have to brainstorm the hardest. Sometimes it's the halfway point, but more often it's the two-thirds mark. The first half of the book is devoted to throwing balls up in the air – piling up the complications, challenges, and question marks. By the middle I usually have quite a few balls swirling in the air, and not only do I have to remember them all, but I also have to start thinking about how to tie them together and catch them all in the right order. My messy middle is not so much a dearth of things going on as too many. Not so much stagnant as overwhelmed. How on earth do I get from here to the end? In less than 200,000 words!

I love Charlotte's very helpful suggestions about techniques to spice up a sagging middle. I've used several of them. When I'm feeling overwhelmed and bewildered, one of my techniques is to list all the balls I can think of – the things that need to to revealed, the questions that need to be answered, the loose ends that need to be explained by the end of the book (bearing in mind I don't know what that end is). And then I brainstorm ideas, jotting the ideas as they come to me, exploring what would happen if?, and if this then that... Keeping in mind the basics of our genre. Avoid exposition, build from small to big, keep the action on the page, etc.

As I brainstorm, I'm also guided by a few questions that help to make the story authentic and alive. 1. What would logically happen next, or what would this character do next? Note: I sometimes do the opposite, just for spice. 2. What the worst thing that could happen? 

I have now made it through to the end of my current first draft and have done some tidying of loose ends (those balls that would otherwise land on my head), checked for major plot holes, and made sure the whole thing makes sense. I'm now at the stage of hating the book. I suspect every author goes through this stage at some point. I'm tired of it and can't see the forest for the trees. It holds no surprises or excitement for me, and so I am afraid it won't for the readers either. If a writer is on a deadline, as I am, we don't have the luxury of shelving it for a few months to get some distance from it. Now is the time to let trusted beta readers look at it with fresh eyes and tell me if it's as bad as I think it is. If so, hopefully they'll have some ideas for rescuing it.

In the Weeds, or the Tale of the Pantser

Donis here. I've passed the middle of the manuscript I'm currently working on, and as usual, I'm a little bit lost. I know just where I want to go, but the question is how to get there. As I've mentioned many times over the years, I am a pantser. That means I do not outline my novels before I begin writing them (I write by the seat of my pants, if you haven't yet figured out what that means.)  

 I was told once by a mystery author friend (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 in my long history. 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 never once followed an outline to the end. The characters don't allow it.

 I have also simply started writing, usually at the beginning, but I’ve started in the middle and at  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.  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 first draft is done. Then it's time to go back in with a machete and start cutting and rearranging.

Often if I'm a bit lost in my story, I simply pick a path at random and get to writing. If that path leads to a dead end, I try another. Even on the dead ends I find all kinds of interesting material I can use someplace else.

I like being a pantser rather than an outliner because I enjoy surprising myself as I go along. I don't mind hunting around for my path a bit in the middle of the first draft because often I find a delightfully original way to go that I hadn't thought of before. But really, whatever works best for each author - and for each book - is the way to go.

Progress

When last we met, Dear Reader, I was in quite a funk. My nephew was in the hospital on life support and here in the Phoenix area we had suffered through several weeks of temperatures above 110ºF. As of today, my nephew has made it through, is off the many machines that kept him alive, and as of last report, may be able to go home to recuperate as early as today or tomorrow. 

As for the weather... No good news there. We've added two more weeks of over 110º. The forecast for Phoenix today (Wed.) is 118º ( I live in Tempe, on the outskirts of the Phoenix metro area, where it's only supposed to get to 116º) However, we've been given some hope that by this weekend we'll drop below 110 for the first time in almost a month! I'll rejoice when that day comes

In the meantime, I'm still working on my latest MS, and have nearly reached the middle. My critique group has been discussing the value of creating a detailed outline before even beginning to write. It's the old plotter vs. pantser debate. 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. 

I have never yet faithfully followed an outline, but I can see that disciplined outliners often are able to write much faster and tighter than we wanderers.

 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.

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.

_____________

*Camp Scott, now closed. For those of you old enough to remember, this is where the young campers were murdered in their tent, years after I was there.

Getting to the end

 As usual, I loved Douglas's Monday blog. When my turn on Type M looms and I have no idea what to blog about, I read the blogs immediately before mine and very often, presto, an idea. Or at least something to spin off of.

He was talking about starting points. That blank page that confronts us authors at the beginning of our 300-page journey into the unknown. Full of possibilities, secrets to be unearthed, and terrors to navigate. Then he described on how he navigates the journey.There is no right way to write a book, no shortcuts or guidebooks that guarantee an easy, successful trip, despite their promises. And if there were, what a bore that would be. Writers are often asked two questions: where do we get our ideas, and what is our writing process? People are interested to learn that ideas do not land on our page perfectly formed but rather they are spun from snippets here and there – a conversation overheard on a bus, a news in brief in the newspaper – created much as an oyster forms a pearl from an insignificant grain of sand. 

Our process is whatever works for us to get from that blank page to the words "the end". Some writers are compulsive outliners, others sketch out the high points and major twists ahead of time, but leave the details for first draft. As incredible as it sounds, a great many simply jump in and start to write, with only the vaguest idea what the story is about and who is in it, but not the faintest idea where it's going or how it will end. I am mostly of this latter school, knows as pantsers. As in we fly by the seat of our pants. This is a wild-west style that allows the imagination the greatest freedom but also brings the most terrors. Douglas is quite right - when terror strikes, you have to trust yourself. I usually remind myself that I have written xxx number of books before and in each case have managed to figure out how to end them.

Which brings me, finally, to the point I was going to make in this blog. The ending point. If you and your editor have done a decent job, the end should be neat and only as long as it needs to be to finish the story. I don't mean "tied up in a perfect little bow" neat. I mean it should answer the crucial question(s) posed in the book and tie up most but not all the loose ends. If too many questions are left dangling, the reader feels frustrated and unfulfilled, but if every little question is answered, there is nothing left for the reader to ponder and answer on their own. It all feels too clever and contrived. It also leaves the reader with no curiosity about what may happen in future books.

In most mystery stories, the crucial question(s) to answer is Who dunnit, and will justice be served? It's a rare mystery that doesn't at least tell the reader at the end who the killer is. In most cases, that would leave the reader throwing the book across the room. Very occasionally, the author leaves a hint of doubt and a hint of a possible alternative, so that the reader can weigh the evidence for themselves. Risky, but intriguing! 

The question of "Will justice be served" leaves a lot more leeway. Sometimes this means the killer is not only revealed, but the evidence exists that will convict them. But there may be times when, on balance, justice is served by letting the killer go free. Mysteries that explore that vast gray area between right and wrong, between good and evil, are the most compelling and meaningful of all. When the reader asked themselves, What would I do?

 

A writer's mind

 I really enjoyed Type M newcomer Douglas's post on Monday. I'm fascinated by the way the creative process works and the way we writers, each in our own silos, mostly self-taught through trial, error, and sheer pig-headedness, discover common ground. Like me, he is a "by the seat of the pants" writer, with all the thrill, anxiety and frustration that entails. 

Three points in particular resonate with me. First is that drafting an outline is a colossal waste of time, because I never follow it. Sometimes by Chapter Two, I get a better idea that lures me off the planned route and into the brambles, and by halfway through the book, my story bears almost no resemblance to the one I had outlined (nor the proposal sitting on the editor's desk). Other times it is a subtler, inconsequential detail that draws me slowly off course, altering the shape and meaning of the story completely by the end. 

For example, in the very first scene of my recent work in progress, THE DEVIL TO PAY, I introduced a dog. It was a whim; my intention was to liven up the scene and shed light on the characters. Those of you who know me and my work, know I love dogs. So before long the dog was popping up in various scenes, and suffice to say, it took on in central role in the mystery. And in the underlying theme.

The second point I identify with in Douglas's post is the curse of the blinking cursor. Writing without an outline means you don't know where you're going and what comes next, and frequently the mind goes blank. Which way to go in the brambles and how to get to the end of the story? Indeed, is there a story at the end at all? In my case, the cursor doesn't blink because I write my first draft long-hand, but you get the idea. The page, not blank but scribbled over with multiple false starts, stares up at me in stubborn, empty silence. Long walks, arguments with the characters, lots of "what ifs?" as I unload the dishwasher, until finally some little idea breaks through the logjam and I see a way forward, at least for a short distance.

I confess I have learned to do some short-term outlining once I find this break-through, because usually a few plot ideas tumble into place, which I have to jot down before I forget them.

But the point I liked most in Douglas's post was the idea what despite all this hair-tearing and self-doubt, there's something thrilling about not knowing where the story is leading me. It's like being on an adventure. I think if I knew where I was going and how it would end, I would be bored. What's the point of writing the story? There would be no sense of exploring the unknown, no tingle of excitement, no ahah! moment when I realize who the killer has to be and how they'll be caught. And at the end of it all, finally, the delight when I realize what the story is about. 

Ready, set, go!

I've been amused by the recent posts by my fellow bloggers, all along the lines of Happy Holidays, here's what I did with the family, why I didn't do any writing, and so on. I confess that because my last post was due on Christmas Day itself, it didn't get posted at all. I had a house full of family, a seventeen pound turkey to cook, and more family coming to help eat it. I was too busy even to take photos. So here's my first holiday photo of the blog. This is only one table of two. I call it The Aftermath. 

But I was most intrigued by Aline's post about starting her new book, to which I said "That's exactly me!" In fact, I think that so often when I read Aline's posts that I wonder if we aren't secret identical twins with different accents.

I have been researching my next book for almost three months, reading cheerful tomes on domestic violence and trolling through the internet to learn about shelters, police response, therapy groups, etc. As I read, the characters in my drama slowly began to take shape in my imagination and some key plot possibilities emerged. But I kept stalling on actually getting down to write. New Year's Day was my drop-dead deadline. Like Aline, I am mostly a pantser and once I have a couple of opening scenes, I start the journey, knowing that if I planned ahead, I would be seduced by the first intriguing fork in the road and be off in another direction anyway. If anything, trying to follow a plan would only frustrate and bore me. I do think ahead in fits and starts, but I like the surprises my imagination comes up with and I like not knowing how it's all going to work out.

But it is also terrifying to be lost in the wilderness, not knowing where I'm going or whether I'll ever get there. This is the curious paradox that I think pantsers find so addictive. The journey is both thrilling and terrifying. Rather like plunging down a ski hill on the very edge of losing control. And, keeping with that metaphor, there I was on New Years, poised at the top of the mountain with my ski tips pointing over the abyss, gathering my courage. Finally there is nothing for it but to push off. Put pen to paper and start the first scene. Which I did on January 4. It's a brand new Inspector Green novel: I am bringing my favourite detective back after an absence of almost six years. So on January 4 I started feeling my way down the mountain and now have four scenes written, with ideas for the next three that emerged out of the writing of the last one. The story is picking up momentum.

The skiing analogy breaks down somewhat at this point, unless the mountain is very high and the path very circuitous. Because although at the moment I am gliding along and enjoying it, I know at some point the descent will slow, even reverse, and I will grind to a halt, forced to plod along and even climb again with great effort. Stories bog down and become mired in dead ends when one is a pantser. More and more forks crop up, with no clear path forward. The one principle I keep in mind (which is the same in skiing) is: choose the fork that promises momentum. The Goldilocks fork. Not the Black Diamond run that plunges me to the finish line too fast and recklessly out of control. Not the Bunny Hill that lulls me effortlessly down through each safe and predictable turn. But the Intermediate hill that keeps me close to the edge of my skis, gripping my poles and screaming curses into the wind.

I've got a long way to go, but each day I try to put myself back on that mountain, picking up where I left off and feeling my way down through the open spaces and dense woods, the cliffs and the bogs. I've got about eight months to go and 85,000 more words to write, but it's exciting to be starting the journey. 

Farewell to 2019

It's the end of another year. This time it's also the end of a decade.

I would like to think that I'm not only older but much wiser. But I keep forgetting the lessons I thought I had learned.

This year I forgot the lesson I should have learned about saying "yes". I have this superstition about not answering the door when opportunity knocks. I'm always afraid that I will miss a chance to do something that would be life-changing. As superstitions go, this one isn't irrational. For example, I found a publisher for my Lizzie Stuart mystery series because I said "yes" when I was invited to take part in a mystery/detective fiction conference in New York City -- and then "yes" (or, at least, a hesitant "okay") when I was asked to lead a tour group on a walking tour of Harlem (a place that this Virginian had never been). A friend who knew Harlem came along. . . and, as it happened, a criminal justice professor from the Southwest was in New York, came to the conference, and joined the walking tour. While we were engaging in shop talk, we both admitted that we were would-be mystery writers. It was he who later passed on a tip about the crime fiction imprint that a Southern publisher was launching. So, you see, if I had said "no" my mystery series might never have been published. That's why I am superstitious about not saying "yes." But this year I should have thought more about what I could get done.

That brings me to that other lesson. We all know that one -- assuming that life will go along as one planned with calendar in hand. That there will be no snow, no household emergency, no two-week cold, no . . . this month, it was Harry, my cat. A bacterial infection and not eating. One weekend when we make an emergency trip to a vet clinic, the following Monday when I had to take him to his own vet because he wasn't eating. He got a shot and a couple of days later was eating again, but had a cold. Now the cold seems to be over. But I'm stopping to play when he wants to because I relieved that he's healthy again. Life happens and writing schedules fall by the wayside.

The third lesson is about staying organized while juggling multiple balls in the air. Being organized ensures that you don't waste valuable time trying to find something -- an article, a book, a website -- that is crucial to the project. Once, for a week or two this year, I was on the verge of being organized. Then I had to get to work on something that was more urgent. But what I should have learned is that I need to make the time to be organized. I have gone beyond the point of knowing what is in my stacks of papers. Before 2020 begins, I need to go through those piles and make sense of them.

But there was one lesson that I'm glad I didn't learn. I have been trying to be more productive by forcing myself to plow ahead even when I'm not happy with what I'm writing. This year, I missed a real deadline for a nonfiction book and deadline or two I had self-imposed while my agent waited for the thriller I'm writing. But all of my false starts have produced results. I've been digging deeper than I intended for the nonfiction book and made some fascinating discoveries. With the thriller, a few days ago I had an idea that solved my POV problem. Instead of a book written from the points of view of four characters, I am now down to two. These are the two characters who have the strongest voices and the clearest views of the events in the book.

 So I'm going into 2020 and the new decade, older and slightly wiser.

Happy New Year to my Type M mates and to all of you who join us here!