In Treatment

I finished my outline yesterday, and felt really good about it.

--Good balance between plot and emotion? CHECK!
--Pushing the characters forward without going fan-fic crazy? CHECK!
--Good balance between lightheartedness and heart-string-jerking? CHECK!

It's taken me a long time, but the whole thing seemed to flow.

So far, my process has been:

1. Watched a million episodes of the show I wanted to spec.
2. Found a fun, exciting, show-consistent concept.
3. Analyzed the show's story structure.
4. Decided which characters would carry the A, B, C, and D plots respectively.
5. Made mini-outlines for the A, B, C, and D plots.
6. Wrote in-depth treatments for the A, B, C, and D plots respectively.
7. Re-did each of the mini-outlines (beefing them up a lot and focusing especially on the A-story act outs).
8. Wove them together into an outline.
9. Made sure the full-episode outline was structurally consistent with the show, and there weren't any obvious plot holes.

And today I started writing the treatment...which, to me, means writing the spec's entire story out in prose. The first act came easily, and was almost exactly the same as the outline--though I did fill in some vague spots. All was OK with the second act, too. The events came in the same order, and I didn't find any major logistical issues.

But I just finished doing the same for the third act, and now I'm worried, because that bit of the treatment didn't go so well. Did I lose sight of my concept? Did I spend so much time making A BIG INTERESTING BEAUTIFUL LIVELY plot that I buried my hook? It feels like there's a ton of stuff going on, but none of it relates to my main hook, and I think it'll muffle the punch of Act 4 and 5.

For sure, some (Act 3 and likely 4) events have got to be shuffled around. And I'm going to go back to my notes on the show, to make sure I'm telling my story at exactly the same pace and with the same (diffusion of) focus as the show writers do. It's a constant pull-push, writing a spec. On the one hand, I ask: is this a good story? So I try to go crazy with the creativity to make it better. But on the other hand, the question that's more important is: will this script be a good example of the show? Could it go on TV and fit in perfectly to all that came before and will come after?

The line between creation and mimicry is so tough to find! But the whole point of a spec is to display one's skill at finding that balance. Maybe some people have more trouble infusing a piece with their own voice? I know I have the most trouble with the mimicry aspect of spec writing--everything I see and hear automatically goes through my little Sasha-Filter and comes out seeming completely different from how it went in. Which can be a good thing--but which also means it's essential for me to try especially hard to stick to my bible--the show itself. So, while I'll be trying to write the best story I can, it's smartest for me to always refer back to the show whenever I'm in doubt.

Honestly, in the midst of all this treatment trouble, I'm considering re-writing my outline to copying an episode's structure exactly (I've even already got a particular episode in mind). Why not? At least it would keep me on a very short leash.

Aw well--that'll likely be my next step. I can't wait to get to the fun dialogue/action/writerly stuff...but there's no way the spec can be any good if the structure's at all off. I'm more anxious to write a spec worth something than to just get one done--no matter if it's taking a couple weeks longer than expected.

Play/Script

Two questions:

1. How visual should a play be? They've got to rely on the cheapest of tools, good dialogue. But I think visually. How can I put that in my script without stepping on the director's toes?

2. How big is too big, for a play? How many scene changes are too many? How many extras/characters? For a film script, my story is relatively small scale/low budget. But for a play...what's the proper scale?

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.

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.

the criticism dovetailed beautifully

I'm hoping NaNo will save my writing. I figure, with the high daily word quota and the rule against using pre-NaNo work, I'll be FORCED to blather a bit each day. Which will, hopefully, do wonders for my pacing.

It's awful; I'm so proud of the outlining and plot-work I did on my last manuscript, but now that I've gotten it as tight as it can possibly go, it turns out I've got to insert some breathing space. WHA?

How can that even be done? Where is there room for marshmellow gooeyness, and how can I find it? What do I even blather *about*? As it is, I figure you see everything you need to see, know everything you need to know...but everyone who reads it says it moves WAY too fast--they can't keep up, and they don't really want to. Wow, that's a blow.

And what makes it worse is that they all think my dialogue and language and even premise is really strong, that the problem is: the world I've created is an unfriendly one, that they don't want to be a part of. The characters are apparently all unlikeable, and the place is confusing, and things are flying around too fast.

The problem probably began in me constructing SUCH a tight, complicated outline, in me thinking like a scriptwriter and not a novelist. So while I'll have to re-edit for "story" (as opposed to plot) and GOD KNOWS what else.... I've decided to write a new manuscript using completely different methods.

That new method is: knowing the characters fairly well, knowing the premise fairly well, and letting the plot take shape. It might mean there is much less of a plot at all--but frankly, maybe novels are better off focusing on one thing well, as opposed to big screen style action.

So of course, I'm now wishing November first would never come. How am I going to go from analyzing the sh*t out of structure to just letting it flow?

In some ways this is an outgrowth of my summer-time decision: to be as authentic and truthful and even whimsical as possible. I think that vow was a good one; it brought out a lot more creativity and emotion--in my life, as well as my writing--than would otherwise have been possible. Now's the time for even more trust, even more wonder, even more serenity.

UUUUUUUUUUGH! I'll have to trust my own mind and the characters to take me through this novel, and that's tough for an over-educated over-analyzer like me.

i'm going 85 in a 25mph zone

Today, my class workshoped my manuscript's first chapter. This chapter has been my bane for nine months or so, and after having it workshoped four times, I figured this was it-- this was the chapter at its finest.

No.

Basically, they liked what was there, but were utterly lost because of what wasn't. They wanted context on the micro scale (clothes, setting, more speech tags) and on the macro (who is the protagonist?).

I'm crushed.

But after class, some of the students said things that really helped:

--The pace is too fast, and there isn't enough exposition. It reads like a script. A good script, but not a readable prose piece.

--My voice is strong, so I can afford to start a bit slower.

--Start with the main character-- which, in this case, is a virus.

--And read more Stephen King.

I've actually written the (slower) scene they want me to start the story with, and I've got a lot of the exposition in my head. But halfway through the critique, I just felt so lost and frustrated; everyone always says I'm a good writer, but that this isn't my best work. Than what the hell IS my best? I've worked my ass off on this thing!

But by the end of the session, it had become clearer. Guess I'm still too mired in the script mentality-- ie, speed is good, expos is boring.

I've got to commit 100% into this prose thing, or, at least I have to while I'm writing a prose piece. In my heart of hearts, I knew that was true, that I couldn't let go of my script-training; that's why I'm so excited to start my NaNoWriMo project and try a different way of structuring prose, a different focus.

Instead of plotting that one, stepsheet/movie style, I'm working on knowing the characters inside out, creating a VERY basic skeleton, and then working the story out as I go. It'll be much more character based, and have about 1% of my last manuscript's plot.

I'm still going to work on this one, I suppose, though mostly out of obstinance and spite. Hey, every artist has a different but equally valid reason for doing what they do :P

Bluestocking Bluebook

I take back most, if not all, of what I said about the class I'm taking. Since the first session, the instructor *has* seemed engaged, and though we mostly use texts I've already read, she's putting their ideas into a revision system that 1. makes revision seem digestible 2. will probably work.

Part of my problem was that I've been revising my current manuscript for so long that I've stumbled into each of her revision steps, albeit not in her order.

But during a panic attack over this story I realized: this is a good roadmap! *This* is why I took that class.

So here are the steps:

1. Re-read the piece, hardcopy, with no pen and no criticism.
2. Write a logline
3. Write a one paragraph (catchy) summary
4. Write a step-sheet
5. Go through each chapter (in the story's case, each act/section), and create a have/need map.
6. Section by section, turn all the "needs" into "haves."
7. Repeat steps 5-6 as necessary
8. Line edits-- make it pretty!

Analytical little me is going to have a field day with this one!

When Will the Storm Break?

This short story’s got a funny/interesting locked-in-a-room-together concept. But I’m a thousand words in and nothing’s happening. Plus, those thousand words have taken two days to write. What’s up with my pacing?


In terms of nothing happening: I think I’m used to novel pacing, where there’s room to go slow. And I think it’s also a problem that I don’t have an AWESOME central image for the story to hurtle towards (yet). Got to think on that, for sure.


In terms of my writing speed: Ok, ok, so I’ve been wondering if fast is really the way to go. Sometimes it is—mostly, I sometimes need to pound something out in one sitting. My TV script was like that, and I think a lot of short stories are like that. If I let them simmer too much I (a) lose the thread/tone/atmosphere (b) skip over the daily warming up because I’m so anxious to get today’s bit of the thing over with. If the whole story’s got to get done in a sitting, I’m forced to, yanno, actually sit for a while and work through the throat-clearing.


But lately I've also been cutting myself yards and yards of slack. It’s my real vacation time, and the last few weeks I’ll have before my friend leaves the country—I want to relish it. Obviously, I’ve got to write some (or I’ll go insane) but it’s important to savor life outside of writing—I can let myself get so consumed and that’s when I get anxious… and write badly (Catch 789 of writing well: past a certain point, the harder you press, the harder it is). All this means, though: I get a few hundred words down and skip on with my day. Not the best thing for pacing/momentum.


So: today I’m going to (1) think of a HAUNTING/BIZARRE/BEAUTIFUL image to center my story around (2) write it until it’s done.

Spackling and Sanding Helps the Topcoat Go on Fast and Smooth

I'm still working on my outline for the newest manuscript. At this point, I've got the general plot and characters down (though, frustratingly, I can't find the right name for my main character).

Exercises I've found very helpful:

-- Character bios. I've always found these corny, but telling the story of a character's life is actually really helpful. Also, a great warm-up.

-- Synopsis run-downs. I got stuck coming up with my act three, and it seemed that telling the story to someone-- or even writing it down for myself-- helped crystalize it.

Telling it like a bedtime story allows interesting twists or patterns or character traits emerge, for one. For another, that kind of storytelling makes it easy to leave out the boring bits and add to the fun ones. For me: verbal storytelling has been good to clarify the concept, or to give a very nutshell description, and written storytelling has great for summarizing the entire plot.

Now, I've got a forty-point "beat-sheet"/outline. Each "beat" is equivilant to 2-2.5K. That's part of my method for slowing down-- I don't want to micro-manage every word, because that leads to summation, bordom, and a WAYYY too fast pace. But I also don't want to go hiking without a trail.

Now, I want to make sure the supporting character's journeys mirror each other the way the lead characters' do. Then, I'll try to polish and strengthen each "Act" of the story, beat by beat (forty beats is too many for little hallow-headed me to tackle all at once). Finally, I'll make sure the balance and pacing feels right. Then-- by this weekend, if all goes right-- I'll start the rough draft!

(Interesting) side-note: I've reverted to three-act structure. When my storytelling got more naturalistic, and I knew enough about the characters/plot to go with the flow, the story broke into a "beginning," "middle," and "end."

NEWSFLASH: Love Conquers All

My current manuscript is a love story.

Yes, a happy, drippy, emotionally overwrought but moving and beautiful love story: two people who can only be happy together, kept apart.... until they overcome society and foibles and bad upbringings and all. Until suddenly-- heart/eyes/arms full-- they aren't apart anymore.

I've been very busy with synopsis and notes. Last week, I tried to write a scene just to see how close I am to "pages"-- it went very badly, but some good details and twists came out of it. So I wrote up character bios and thought about theme.

A couple days ago, my mother asked what the story was about, and I told her. Only instead of giving her the so-called A-story, I told her about the love story that had inspired the concept to begin with. She loved it, and I realized I had lost my way.

Not to say the work I did before was worthless-- no, it was vital. But I need to change the emphasis.

And I've had a personal tragedy this week (a death in the family). Honestly, I don't feel up to writing about fighting and killing and anger. Love and thwarted dreams and a slower pace feels right, for now.

Today, I sketched out an outline that's been percolating out of the raw material of my old synopsis and notes and outlines and bios. This feels right, though it still needs a great deal of refining.

My goals with this manuscript, as well as my prep for it:
-- Use more emotional climaxes and twists (as opposed to physical ones)
-- Savor each scene
-- Make it beautiful

The Materialist's Guide To: Post-Concept, Pre-Story

1) SPAGHETTI METHOD: throw everything onto the wall until something sticks.

During the brainstorming period, I tend to get most of my inspiration from mediocre movies, books, and television plots. The really great stuff just gets me down on myself, but the popcorn stories are great as jumping off points. Seeing someone else's mistakes or missed opportunities gets my creativity pumping.

Don't worry, by the time the idea or plot point is filtered through your themes, your concept, and your brain, it's not anything like the material that inspired it. The idea is to find what inspires you, and hang around lots of that stuff, throwing bits and pieces onto your mental dartboard until a bunch of cool stuff sticks.

2) CHARTS AND GRAPHS:

Once I've got a bunch of ideas for my characters, I divide up my outline into 1. Acts (I always use 5) and 2. Storylines (I usually have A-D, but with a manuscript like the one I'm working on now, a small E storyline could fill things in nicely.

With this manuscript, I'm aiming for 85K words. While each *act* should come out to roughly 17K words, each *storyline* isn't equal. The A-storyline should be much more important, and take up much more space than the E-storyline, for instance. For my current manuscript, the A-storyline gets about 27K, the B-storyline 22, the C-storyline 17, the D-storyline 13, and the E-storyline 7. That's a *rough* estimate.

I then make up an act-by-act, story-by-chart. The acts are the Y-axis, the storylines the X-axis, so that the letters at the top correspond to storylines, the numbers down the side to acts. Under each storyline/beside each act, I filled in the number of words (by thousand) per act/storyline. Some of the acts will have 5K for the A-story, some 6K. Some of the acts will have 4K for the B-story, some 5K, etc.

In this manuscript, the D-story is a foil for the A-story, and the C-story for the B-story. Therefore, in the acts where I thought the emphsis should be on the A story, I gave A 1K "extra" and D 1K "fewer" words. Again, this is *rough*-- more so I can keep my thread and remember where to put emphasis/what's important. If I plot correctly, however, the final word-counts *should* line up naturally.

3) WORKSHEETS:

So, now I know a bunch of random stuff I want to happen, and I know where my emphasis should be-- so now what? My A-story and my B-story are *by far* the most important: the other stories are countermelodies on the same theme. So, now I've got to think: what dilemma does my main character face in the A-story? In the B-story? The dilemmas are *thematically* linked, but are different in terms of plot devices, characters, etc. In my manuscript, for instance, my A-story is an action/political scheme, and my B-story is romantic... BUT, they are both about how to get what you want without subjecting others.

*Make sure that the dilemmas are *real.* They should be *unsolvable.* Otherwise 1. the story is boring to read 2. it has no heart 3. why are you bothering to write it anyway? Just to be pedantic?

In this manuscript's case, the A- and D-stories play with the same dilemma, and same with the B- and C-stories.

By now, I'm usually forming a narration in my head, because that's what I do. But if the spaghetti concepts aren't falling into place by now, you can also make a "Beginning, Middle, End" chart. Once you know the beginning and end for each storyline, a powerful middle shouldn't be too hard-- just think "what would make the end impossible to get to, based on this beginning?"

Once you have the beginning, middle, and end, think of a general bridge to get from one to another. These are short notes-- remember, this is for *you,* and you don't need to know every sign and stoplight right now-- you just need to know which road to take.

4) BACKBONE:

My first outline looks like this:

A-story
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.

B-story
1.
2.
3.
4.
5.

etc.

When I've filled out the *general, one-phrase* event for each storyline by act, I plug in the word-counts from my chart. Then I think things like: I wanted to emphasize the A-story in Act 3, because I want that story to hit hard there. But is my A-story, Act 3 plot-point strong enough for that?

This sounds insane, but it will usually work out-- especially if you've been trained to think in Act structure. Naturally, you'll have found a scary horrible plot-point for the A-story at the end of Act 3, and a resolution question for Act 5. You're so used to stories, you probably form narrations this way anyway.

BUT, the good thing about this method is it exposes weak plot points, and places where you might have let the tension go slack. For instance, it turned out my B-story, Act 4 was incredibly lame. Buried with the other plot points, it didn't look so bad, but when I saw I'd have to play with it for four thousand words I realized I needed to do some thinking.

With all those great speghetti concepts to shop from, the raw materials are probably good; I find that what usually happens here is that plot points need to be flipped, rather than abandoned or created.

SO: Now you've got a sketch of the entire book. You've transformed the theme into a (plot-)symphony, and know you've got:

1. a backbone strong enough for a novel-length manuscript (something I, a short writer, have trouble doing); and

2. great pacing.

Note: this is only the macro plotting-- the micro stuff is just as tough, and just as important... but it can wait until tomorrow :). Also, this is all based on the idea that you already know you're characters as well as you need to. Meaning: you know their strengths and weaknesses, and what journey they'll go on over the course of the story. For me, figuring that out goes with figuring out the theme, because characters usually come to me first. BUT, it's necessary to have specific "people" you're working with while plotting, in order to keep it cohesive.

Get in. Get out. Get going.

Pillars of the Earth and World Without End, both by Ken Follett, are desert-island books. The kind of books that you could subsist on for years (if necessary, God forbid).

They are in a naive, "He felt scared"/"She went home," style. They are set during the Middle Ages. They are about a cathedral being built and repaired (respectively). And they're riveting.

The plotting is magnificent. Each scene starts out with a feeling of dread (Ex. The little boys flocked to the hanging). The scene's beginning becomes its middle when the central problem is introduced (Ex. A pregnant girl has also come to watch the hanging-- of her noble lover).

The middle of each scene is a series of twists and turns as various schemes play out. Finally, a scheme is either beneficial for each of the scene's parties, or the POV character has run out of options-- that's the climax.

And at the end of each scene the POV character has:
1. a defeat or triumph
2. a new resolution for what to do
3. an emotional change

Once the scene has climaxed, it ends IMMEDIATELY. There are a couple lines of white space, and POP we're in another scene (once again, filled with dread).

The books have momentum out of this world; they're *never* dull, I *always* want to read on. The masterful plotting is part of it (and imagine: these are books in which not much actually happens. The characters are peasants or children or monks, who generally lead quiet lives). Plotting like that takes a lot of skill and a lot of talent.

But ending after a climax doesn't. I resolve to work at Follett-style plot structure, and use Follett-style white space.

Steady Clip

My problem is usually that my writing moves too fast, because I always keep the three BIG HUGE LIFE QUESTIONS in mind:

What is it?
Why do I care?
What's in it for me?

The problem isn't so much that I get bogged down; it's that:

1. I hate to flesh out the "boring stuff" (ie, any part of the story where people aren't fighting). So, when I get lazy, I just tack on the necessary info in the midst of the a fight. NOT GOOD. Weeding out those bits and pieces can be tough.

2. I want to tell EVERYBODY'S story AT THE SAME TIME. So my timelines tend to get *very* messy. Everything's happening all at once, but you can only read one person's POV at a time. Sorting out where and when everybody is existing is pretty tough, esp. when I'm keeping everything as trim as possible.

3. I know what everyone's motives are, but the characters often don't, and sometimes the readers can't decifer them, either. In my stories, people are constantly lying, or dreaming, or in deniel, and there are always a lot of POVs in play. Sorting out what everyone wants when, and who knows what, is pretty tough.

And what with all that sorting out of POV and motive and timeline and plot, it's tough to decide how much the audience needs to know when. My betas so far haven't been a whole lot of help, because everyone who reads my stuff seems to have a different threshhold for narrative ignorance. AAACK.

I've read the first seventy pages or so of my novel SO many times, I'm having a hard time looking at them anymore, let alone figuring out the pace or how fast I can dispence knowledge.

Time for another beta? Time to put the manuscript away? Time to buckle down, mainline coffee, and do some more copy edits? A three hour read-through, with no editing allowed (only note-taking)?

I don't know.