Vroom Vroom

I'll be in London for two weeks.

Yes, I will be writing.

No, that is not the point of the trip.

The blog is closed until December. Good writing and happy Thanksgiving!

Resolution Reboot

I've decided to put NaNo on hold. I've decided to put the claymation on hold. I've decided to put my collaborative feature on hold. I've decided to put my teaching internship on hold. I've decided to put my "zombie" manuscript's third draft on hold. I've decided to put my seven half-finished stories and my three ready-for-final-edit stories on hold. I've decided not to take any more classes this year. Just keep the one job I have. Talk to my friends a little less. I've decided to put my second spec TV script on hold, my first TV pilot on hold, and my second edit on last year's TV fellowship application script on hold. The short movie script I've "finished" for Xmas filming is on hold. My newest short film script is, too.

My plate is currently so full that the super-expensive, important, favorite food is about to rot beneath the pile of other stuff.

This past year, I met my New Year's resolutions, and I'm proud of that.

--Blogging. I started this blog in order to interact with other writers, which hasn't happened all that much... but along the way, I've become much more focused in and articulate about my process, which has been an immense help. The blog has been a success, at least for me as a writer, and I plan to continue it.

--Finishing a novel manuscript I could be proud of. Even though I haven't edited it to my satisfaction it IS entirely down on paper, follows a coherent plot, and is worth taking someplace--even if I'm not at the end of the road with it yet.

--Applying to the T.V. Fellowship. I was scared, inexperienced, and who knows how successful? But I did it! I met the deadline, and got a full spec outlined, written, and edited.

--Applying to grad schools. This is still in progress, but going strong (thank God).

The aim in 2008 was to dedicate myself to writing. The aim in 2009 was to find start finding a place in the writing community. The aim for 2010 is to begin a focused effort to specific goals.

When writing first became my priority (as a college grad, not student), I had a hard time finding projects that felt right. But now I'm overwhelmed by ideas I love. The problem is, I've been hopscotching around, doing as much as I can on all of them, never truly feeling proud and finished with one.

So my aim this year is, in short, to finish things. That means working on one or two projects at a time, toward one goal at a time.

Right now, my goal is to have the strongest grad school application I possibly can. That means the only things I'm *not* putting on hold are the things I need to do to meet that goal. So, I've got two stories, four essays, and a play to write, as well as school forms to fill out. AND THAT'S ALL (I swear).

just another brick in the adobe

The last couple days have been packed with procrastination, and I'm sick of how that feels. Today is NaNo catch-up day.

I'm fine in terms of the official word count, but I'd planned to write 2.5K each day for the month, in order to get an entire draft done. Since my drafts seem to be better when composed in condensed time-frames, I figured NaNo would be the perfect opportunity to get a long-held and long-loved idea (finally) down on paper.

NaNo's upsides:

--It's easy to explain a group project like this even to people not especially into writing. And since lots of lay-people are doing it, it doesn't seem impossible or silly for me to try, too--even to people who otherwise forget I write.

--Lots of support. I never thought the forums would help me as much as they have. Hearing about other "nobodies" working to stack up high word-counts and struggling with the day to day drafting process has been great. And the counter at the top of my page--even joining the site at all--has given me a sense of accountability.

NaNo's downsides:

--Because the support and fellowship of NaNo are what brought me to it in the first place, I feel tied to the NaNo timetable; meaning, this is a November project, and it doesn't matter that this November is an incredibly stressful time for me.

--I don't know if such a speedy draft is best for this particular project. On the one hand, speed seems to work well for my writing in general--or at least, it has in the past. On the other, this level of speed doesn't allow for a "perfect" first draft..which, in a project like this, that I've already outlined and thought about, seems a shame. I wonder if a slower first-go might result in a better finished project? Maybe I've outgrown the need to silence my inner-editor by burying her under a mountain of words? Maybe I'd be better off letting her speak a bit during my drafting?

I'm not sure if keeping to my old NaNo inspired style of speed drafting is a way of refining my process or of crippling it....

The Gastault of SHUT UP

I haven't looked at my one finished and semi-polished manuscript in months.

It's not that I haven't been writing; in the meantime, I've "finished" a T.V. script, am going through the first draft of a feature script, "finished" a number of short stories (I was going for fifteen of them, but didn't quite make it), started shooting my clay-mation, and am a third through another manuscript's rough draft.

But this summer, sometime between falling in love (with a person, not book) and taking a beat-down at workshop, I've stopped toying with it, and started avoiding it. Not because I've lost faith in the manuscript, but because it suddenly feels too daunting. The notes for "fixing it" (Draft 1,000,000) are sitting on my desk, and the actual work is buried someplace on my hard-drive.

Yesterday, though, while I was at jury selection (sadly for my research, I didn't actually hear a case) I picked up a short story I'd written a couple months ago. It'd gotten on the page without plotting and without me stopping. When I'd finished the draft, something about it had felt right...

But I decided to put the story away for a bit and forget about it. I've been re-considering my editorial process, and I didn't want this potentially good story to get ripped apart. Yesterday I finally read it, for the first time. Though there were major problems (mostly, the plot is herky jerky), it was a great read! I loved the first half especially. And it had been long enough that I actually didn't remember the story at all, which was fantastic.

I think in editing my manuscript, I cut all the life. I tried so hard to follow the "rules" and only show the "interesting bits" and strengthen the plot, that I edited out the *story.* So with this piece ("Cherub") I'm going to be much gentler.

My process with it now is:
1. Figure out all the characters' arcs.
2. Edit the plot using five-act structure (make sure, mostly, that all the pieces are there, so that the ending is comprehensible).
3. Clarify the most awkward/confusing bits of writing
4. Show it (off?) to a trusted professor
5. Done!

I'm an analytical person, so I like to know why everything works the way it does. But the conscious mind only understands so much--a person can know much more than they can articulate. I've got to start trusting my experience, training, and taste, and forget about justifying everything in the courthouse of my frontal lobe. This story doesn't need to prove itself to anyone--it doesn't have a chance at "perfection," but it does have a chance at being itself.

Beyond this particular story, the hope is: once I've got new editorial confidence and method in place, maybe I won't feel so daunted by the task of infusing life back into my complicated plot-piece of a manuscript. Maybe, in fact, it'll feel natural. And this manuscript will still be something that can connect.

Steppin Up

Yesterday, my collaborator and I made our version of a step-sheet.

We started out with a long walk in which we argued about pacing (Me: FAST! BIG! Her: SLOW! UNDERSTATED!), and character (Me: specific motivation! Her: theme!)

Talked about the few scenes we'd discussed previously and wrote one-sentence summaries for each, which we put on note-cards and taped to a foam-core board.

Looked at them and tried to put them into a three-act structure. Found out we were writing a detective story.

I said: don't detective stories follow five-act structure? And, as a tv writer wanna-be, five act is actually sort of my thing.

We brainstormed for a while, and made a lot of random cards and finally (FINALLY!) found a solid, interesting, specific motivation for our main character. He came to life!

I went back to an old plotline we'd liked, and a five-act version of it sprung out of my mind. It worked!

We re-configered the cards on the board so they were in five acts.

Act by act, we talked about what happened to the main character. At the end of each act, he had to make a decision.

In my head, and a book on mystery writing (I *think* it's based on the act structure in You Can Write a Mystery by Gillian Roberts, but if not--someone please correct me?) the five-act structure for mysteries is:

1. Problem/Decision
2. Easy solution--FAILS!
3. Discover *real* problem
4. Figure out how to solve it
5. Solve it! (or not)

We went through all five acts, and got extremely happy with our main character's journey/the A-story. YAY!

We went back through each act and planted clues that would later be important, or added scenes with characters that had slipped out of sight for a time (for instance, the love interest is kept from the hero for the length of an act, and we'd almost lost sight of her. Likewise, one character is important at the end, so we had to show him for a bit at the beginning).

I wrote it all down in a word document, and we had a forty-scene, five-act stepsheet.

Wow, a whole movie officially plotted, and it only took five hours.

The plan now is: we each have three scenes from the first act (the entirety of the first act, put together) that we're writing today. Tonight we'll put them together and see how they look. Talk about how we felt the first act went, and if we have any changes we want to make to the second and third acts before we assign and write them. At the end of the third act, I have the feeling we'll have a major plotting session again to hammer out every little detail of the fourth and fifth acts, which are bound to change in the drafting process. Then we'll write the rest, and celebrate that we'll have a FULL DRAFT OF A FABULOUS SCREENPLAY!

So, it was a hard, exhausting, but definitely productive day. My favorite kind.

Farty Arty

I was in a high school art room all day, making the BIG BUCKS, and trying to throw together five new scenes for my stop animation.

The process with this movie has been long and convoluted and fascinating, but the most unexpected thing about it is how conventional the whole route to production has been.

1. Premise
2. Brainstorm the plot and character arcs
3. Sketch out the characters (literally in this case, since I had to build them)
4. Build the characters (again, literally)
5. Build the backdrops
6. Test shots
7. Change lighting/location to work better, tweak the characters
8. Write the entire script
9. More test shots
10. Storyboard (20 pictures/3 minute movie!)
11. Revamp the storyboard to add scenes that actually show the characters' inner lives
12. Revamp the script
13. Build new sets/add props

Still need to:
14. Finish all props (ie, make rain. Claymation rain)
15. Finalize lighting and equipment (ie, wires for all the dangly things)
16. SHOOT!
17. Edit the visuals
18. Record sound effects
19. Write soundtrack
20. Record soundtrack
21. Final edit
22. Production icon.

Have I left anything out?!

Now, albeit, I haven't done everything in conventional order...which has cost me a lot of time and effort, but which is unavoidable in a learning experience like this. The point is: I've since learned the conventional process is probably the fastest way a newbie can get from point A to point B still all in one piece

I'd figured that because this was a three minute short, it could be throw together--in other words, that it wasn't a real movie. Figured, this was a week, two-week process. It's been months! My only "excuse"? Hubris...

But, on the other hand, I LOVE IT! Making things with my hands again, thinking in visuals, being on the path to a *finished* product, as opposed to a draft (even a "final" draft! Everyone knows those are never final...). This is right. It's for me. And even after going through this long, convoluted process, I love my vision, and believe I can do it justice. I still know: this is worth it.

Efficiancy and Efficacy

Instead of four separate scenes, each with one goal and one major piece of information to impart, how about one scene that includes it all?

Instead of a setting with two people or four, between a child and a servant, why not a mob scene or a huge fight or the imperial family?

Scriptwriting while doing nanowrimo is a schizo experience.

In nanowrimo, 12,500 words is not enough to establish that two people love each other, and that another's death is a big deal. In scriptwriting, one page is always better than two, let alone five, let alone TEN.

More on this later--I don't understand why some mediums seem so much more efficient than others...or, maybe, it's that *I* am more efficient in some mediums than others...

Creative Calisthenics

My strengths:
--dialogue
--action
--ambiguously moral characters
--HUGE plots/premises

My weaknesses:
--interior monologue
--recognizable heroes/villains
--description.

I have the feeling my weaknesses stem from three causes:

1. natural tendencies/taste (hey, I was the archetypal Buffy-verse fan-girl for god's sake--no surprise my stories are packed with talking, fighting, and ammorality).

2. script-writing. In college, most of my focus was theatrical writing, and it (especially television) speaks to me in a way prose doesn't.

3. agent blogs and "how to" writing guides. Reading them has made me so fearful of boring the reader or padding a story or babbling that I've become much MUCH too harsh with my editing. This isn't a new revelation; I gave up reading "how to" books six months or so ago, and agent blogs since mid-summer.

Agents seemed, to me, to give off the impression that they're judges, arbiters of taste, and that my job is to please them. Which requires following the rules and keeping them entertained and blah blah blah. Now, I don't mean that agents feel this way, but rather: in my insecure, people-pleasing, out-of-touch way, I gave up my own agency (!)--my artistic identity and destiny--and tried to pass the responsability of my work to agents by listening to them to my work's detriment. I got scared of making my own rules and going my own way, and tried to use theirs, go theirs. I put them on a pedestal, and ruined my last novel.

Which I'm still coming to terms with. I've spent God knows how long on the edits, and it turns out my rough draft may be better.

So, in my quest to turn that into a good novel instead of a wordy script, I've decided to write in an entirely different way for my NaNo project.

The premise for my NaNo work is something I've wanted to "find time" for since early summer, and I love working on it.

And:
Unlike my previous manuscript, this one is in first person, and only has one main character.
It has clear villains, though they aren't black-hearted black hats (of course)
There is as much description and internal monologue as I can stuff in.

I've already learned that I have much more latent/instinctive knowledge about plot structure than I'd realized, that internal monologue and scene description aren't as frightening or foreign as I'd thought, and that "prep" becomes busy work relatively early in the writing process.

Of course, it's only the middle of week one, and I'm only about 10,000 words in...but so far I've been very pleasantly surprised with what "playing to my weaknesses" really means. Whether or not this manuscript ever comes of anything, it's doing wonders for my confidence and my sense of self as a writer.

doomed if you don't

Sure, I started NaNoWriMo on time like the consceincious little A-student I am, but it wasn't that great. 1.5K in, and writing it out was a chore.

But yesterday I decided to try and get back to my personal quota-- 2.5K/day. Which meant I was supposed to have five thousand words down by close of business yesterday. I packed them in.

About half were inserted between words that were already there: long digressions about the characters' feelings, backstory, sensory detail, BLAH BLAH BLAH. The other half were mostly centered on meals; a picnic lunch and cold-leftovers for dinner. But it was FUN. And I'm actually pretty excited by what I have down.

Here are the great things about writing a long ass novel:

-- There's room to play.
-- Going inside the narrator's head is fair game.
-- It's ok not to know where you're going until you get there.
-- Or, conversely, it's ok to know where you want to go and let the path wander in no kind of straight line.


For me, writing yesterday was all about the way space can loosen inhibitions and waken the imagination. My story felt new and alive.

And the shorthand of saying: "I'm doing nano" is sure nice, too.

Ok, yeah, I'm a convert. Sometimes being a follower is kind of nice. Going on the warpath: at least not having to martial the troops gives a grunt more time to enjoy the journey.

Novel Revelation

I've tried to read manuscripts before--whole ones, from people who have been working on them for loooong periods. And I've been burned.

The ones I've read have been by people who have never written anything before, and who don't think of themselves as writers. Not to say they weren't dedicated; after all, they'd drafted AND revised a novel-length manuscript, and gone to the trouble of taking a local class/joining a writing group/finding a critique partner.

BUT their manuscripts have generally not read like books. Reading one and commenting on it could become a huge chore, because they weren't novels, they were fictionalized reports. Usually, they'd come from a very smart person in an interesting field, who wanted to write an account of their work without breaking confidentiality or ruining their security clearance. So while the facts were often fascinating, there was little word play, few actual scenes, and tons of barely integrated facts.

What these people *really* wanted was to process their experience, and used fiction to do it.

Which, I suppose, is what all writers do to a degree; they work through things using their fictional characters and fictional situations. The difference isn't whether writing CAN be therapeutic, because it always CAN be--it's whether therapy or understanding is the aim, or if storytelling is.

And though therapeutic writing *can* be powerful and interesting, it's not especially suited for novel-length stories. At best, it lacks momentum, and at worst, it's inaccessible to anyone outside the writer's head.

Which is why reading the manuscript I'm "critiquing" now is such a revelation. I can only hope this is how my own manuscript reads: like a story. Sure, it's a draft, and there are flaws. But it's got the *flavor* of a book; this is the story of the most important and defining period of a fascinating man's life, and he's living in his own world, telling his own story, as opposed to operating in a pale shadow the writer's. This feels like it has its focus on the *audience* as opposed to the writer.

I started reading it yesterday, and I'm finished now--because it was *fun* to read. The story exists in its own world, with its own characters, and I love both the place and the people; when I'm gone from them for too long, I start longing to go back. That's artistry, as well as craftsmanship, and that's why this feels like the beginnings of a professional effort, and not an amateur one.

So, in a nutshell: is the difference between professional and amateur storytelling the difference between a story existing for the audience's pleasure and benefit as opposed to, for the author's?