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.

Raw Meat

Have you read Zadie Smith's White Teeth?

It's her debut novel. *Published* when she was twenty-five. God knows how old (young) she was when she wrote it.

White Teeth is so wonderfully written-- the style is beautiful and clear, the characters unique but recognizable, the world fleshed out and fascinating.

What the fuck?

Of course this makes me want to blast all my own writing into oblivion.

Of course, this makes me want to inhale the whole book in one sitting.

Of course, this makes me consider giving up writing forever.

The stranger thing, though:

I've read her third book (she's written three so far), On Beauty, and wasn't all that impressed. Yeah, it was well written, but it wasn't anywhere near as special as White Teeth (it often felt downright pedantic). And the critics didn't exactly slobber all over her second novel, The Autograph Man (which she could only write after a period of writer's block).

Her writing is so *SO* chock full of talent and skill in White Teeth, it shocks me that she *could* even misstep, or let her writing crust over in the way it has.

This just goes to show: raw instinct is just one tool in the writer's arsenal, but it's an essential tool. Humanity is essential to good writing.

i know they know i know everything they know

That's it, I'm done with the writing group.

They've got lots going for them-- it's a group of smart, analytical, soulful individuals. Unfortunately, their sensibilities don't mesh with mine.

I experimented with doing things the way they thought best, but their suggestions didn't work for me. I experimented with following "the rules," but that led to a bunch of twisting and stressing and cutting and altering in ways that weren't actually organic or better for the story.

The truth is, when it comes to my work I really should follow my gut.

That's not to say that input and suggestions aren't valid-- I'll keep on experimenting, keep on writing for the *readers'* eyes as much or more than for my own, and keep on asking other people what they think of my work.

BUT, I've spent weeks trying to make a few suggestions work, because those suggestions *sounded* right. It's been like banging my head against asphalt, but I keep banging because that's what I do.

Until I re-read the chapters in their original sequence today and realized they were *better that way.* They *still* make the most sense, have the best flow, and the most interesting pace in that order. My work of the last few weeks hasn't been for nothing-- those chapters are stronger now. BUT, they're strongest when they play off of each other in the way that originally felt right to me.

It's not that I didn't work to get that order, either-- I switched a lot of things up, and eventually decided that structure was best. Then I showed the chapters to a bunch of people, who had a bunch of different opinions. Like I said, I used the opinions that *sounded* correct. And the head-butting commenced.

This is what I learned:

-- this is *my* work. And though I like to think of it as a craft, it's art, too. It should be an expression of *my* taste, *my* sensibility, and *my* vision. Art is interesting because of the humanity in it-- it's ok to keep my personal humanity in my art. There *can* be some magic.

-- other people are *advisers*, not teachers. What they say is interesting and often accurate, but as the creator, I know my work best.

-- because I like to brainstorm with others, play off other people's ideas, etc, I'm very influenced by the people I work around, or show my work to. Therefore, if *I'm* still struggling to understand a piece, I should protect it and keep it to myself until I have a solid vision of my own.

-- instinct is smart, at least as smart as the brain. Listen to it!

this DOES relate to writing

Thanks, Mom.

Thanks for telling me dreams are important. Thanks for believing in me even though all you've got are my assurances that I know what I'm doing. Thanks for supporting me even though there's no guarantee that everything will turn out O.K.

Thanks.

Ripping a New One, or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

I mashed two novel scenes into one new one a few weeks ago.

The new scene contained all the necessary information, and it *sort of* had momentum, but it was obviously cobbled together.  There was a lot of redundancy, and it was impossible to read without asking questions like: which character is standing where?  Who is talking to whom?  Who heard what?

I *hated* working on this scene.

1.  I had already polished those old scenes until I loved them-- seeing them all in ruins was difficult.

2.  I had read every word in the old scenes ad nauseum *before* I'd started working on the new scene.  I was growing bored and frustrated.

I polished the new scene as best I could, and ignored it for a few weeks.  Ignored that it didn't make any sense, ignored that it was a thousand words too long (a lot for a spare writer like me), ignored that it was just plain ugly.

I was Frankenstein sending the creature out to die.  

But today I got so desperate not to work on my specs, that I worked on the scene.  I gave up my loyalty to the old stuff.  I went in with as few preconceptions as possible.  Instead of rules, I had goals.

Some goals were plot related (so-and-so has to do such-and-such *now*), and some were hook related (do I *have* to start with dialogue?  How will the reader know what the setting's like?  Am I piling on the layers and info too deeply?)

--I cut everything that wasn't necessary to the *new* scene.  Forget if a line was cool, or it had worked well at some other time, in some other version.  Chopping wittiness is painful, but it's also a relief.  When you have so many babies to care for, you feel lots of love, but you feel lots of responsibility, too.

--I stopped imposing the old scenes' rhythms and structures on the new scene.  The old scenes were pretty much in tatters by today, anyway, which helped me totally break them apart.  But I needed to drop *all* my loyalty to the old stuff, and start over from scratch, so that my new scene would have real momentum, a cohesive feel, and the logistics would be logical. (ie, just because Thing B followed Thing A in the old scene, didn't mean it didn't work better the other way around in the new scene).

In short, I loved both my old scenes.  Both made important story and character points, and both were interesting.  However, neither ultimately worked in my novel's structure.  

Easy, I thought-- I'll mash them together, because two small good things can just mesh into one big good thing, right?  Nope.  In order to find what I really needed from those scenes, I had to give up *all* loyalty to them.  My loyalty had to be with my new scene *entirely*.  That meant letting my new scene dictate its *own* structure, let the dialogue and the character movement play out how it would in this *new* moment, and cutting everything extraneous, regardless of how polished and perfect it seemed.

I had to be confident enough that I could do *better* than I had with my old scenes.  And as of today, I think that confidence is justified :)

UPDATE:

So, despite my resolution to only work on the specs, I've obviously been revising my novel some more. 

I don't think I can just work on one project at a time!  But at least if I limit myself to two, I'll either work on one or the other and won't spread myself too thin.

as seen on tv

Amanda the Aspiring TV Writer has new television fellowship links up on her blog:

Disney:
http://www.abctalentdevelopment.com/programs/programs_writings.html
(deadline 7/1)

WB:
http://writersworkshop.warnerbros.com/
(deadline 7/25)

These fellowships are the fastest/gentlest way to go from lonely scribbler to TV God. Go for it!

WHAM! BAM! No, thanks Ma'am

My (constant) struggle: how big is too big?

I love melodrama, action, HUGE EMOTIONAL moments. Other people see those things (especially lit people, as opposed to drama people) as over-blown.

Everyone says: start your story with a bang! The only caveat they give is: don't make it such a big bang that you can't follow it up.

No worries about that caveat, because my first whammie is always a ho-ho compared to the wedding cake that is my climax.

BUT, I think that ho-ho might already be a little too much to handle.

Case in point: my first manuscript chapter starts with a dog-fight in which one dog is killed. ALSO: three named characters are introduced, there's a gambling-fraud angle, a weird-science angle, a strange-world angle, and an illicit flirtation.

Too much, even for 10-12 pages?

I especially *hate* starting with a dog-fight.

On the one hand, the fight itself is necessary for the story, gives an early warning that this is a manuscript with a lot of explicit action, and tells you right off-- the dog owner is a *bad* guy.

On the other hand-- animal cruelty in the first few pages? REALLY?! George Pelecanos did it in Hell to Pay, but I don't need a sh*tload of agents turning me down to know I don't have the same leeway as George Pelecanos.

I've heard it's good to start with straight action, not to get bogged down in details, and not to center the action in emotional drama (ie, the action = argument) b/c it's concerning characters who we don't yet know.

I've also heard you've got to start with either the hero or the villain, to lock someone into the story. Starting with a side-character as an unknown writer is shooting yourself in the foot.

As I'm structuring my first fifty manuscript pages now:

1. Dog-fight! Intro: villain, inciting incident
2. Argument! Intro: hero, arch-villain
3. Weird situ! Intro: subplot character, see the hero/villain in action
4. Arch-villain in trouble! Intro: arch-villain, but in sympathetic light
5. OH GOD! First major action sequence. End-ish of Act 1. Point of no return for the hero.
6. And SHIT! Complete end of Act 1. Arch-villain rachets up the stakes

It was previously: 3, 4, 1, 2, 6, and there was no 5. The momentum in my current sequence is much better, and it introduces the most important characters more immediately.

Still not sure, though-- is this way best? Have the conflicts gotten too big, too fast?

Occupation: God

UPDATE: Nathan later scrubbed the word "hobby," because of outcry in the comments.  He writes, "I only meant the word 'hobby' as in something that one does that is not one's career, not as something trivial."

But Nathan, writing *is* my career.  Maybe my ventures will fail and I'll have a very, very quiet career-- and yes, that thought is frightening.  But regardless of who signs my paycheck, writing is my *real* work! 

Nathan Bransford put up an interesting post yesterday about "Writing as Identity."

He said that writing's a hobby.  Sane, sensible people do it because it's "fun."  The people who let the world know THEY ARE WRITERS! are crazies.

Usually, I love his blog-- it's informative while being supportive and unpretentious, and he can be extremely insightful.

HOWEVER, I found this post condescending as hell.

I call myself a writer for many reasons, and writing means a lot of things for me-- the most important of which is definitely not "fun."

1.  Definitions and labels don't exist in a vaccuum.  The point of labeling yourself anything (mother, writer, project manager, whatever) is to give a quick and dirty sketch of the context in which you want your audience to see you.

So, if I'm introduced to someone at a family reunion, I say "I'm so-and-so's daughter/mother/aunt/sister/cousin." Because *that* is the view of myself that provides the best context in that situation.

If I'm talking to people about what I do to pay the bills, I tell them I'm a [day job].

But if I'm talking to people about how I think, how I view the world, what my *career* (as opposed to job) goals are, then yes, I tell them I'm a writer.

Because I see writing as my career, and as an ambitious, career-oriented person, writing is thus the lens through which I view the world.  In many ways, the details of my life wouldn't make sense if I didn't let someone know that I'd chosen those paths in order to further my writing career.

2.  My writing is more than a hobby for *practical reasons*

I actually *tried* to keep writing as a hobby, something I did on the side, and for fun.  Yes, many writers-- even booker prize winners!-- are able to work 9-5, keep up an active social life, *and* write to their full potential.  But I can't.

And once I realized I couldn't have all those things at once, I had to re-evaluate my priorities.  For me, writing came out on top.  That doesn't mean I don't pay the bills, and it doesn't mean I abandoned my friends.  It *does* mean that I rearranged my life so that writing is at the center of it-- where (for me, at this point in my life) a career *should* go.  

That meant that I had to move to a cheaper place, even though it meant living in a basement in a new state.  I had to find more flexible work, even though it meant I made less money and got no insurance.  I had to enforce boundaries with my friends and family, knowing they didn't really understand.  

And instead of the immediate gratification of a paycheck or a ton of fun time with my friends, I got to sit alone in my apartment, learning to write by trial and error.

BUT, it was the best decision for me-- the only decision for me.  Since I've decided that writing comes first, I've been happier, more fulfilled, and more *myself* than ever-- even though every practical aspect of my life has gotten tougher.

3.  Writing *can* be fun.  But I don't write *for fun*.

Writing is challenging, involving, rewarding, satisfying.  Creating fascinating, authentic-feeling and cohesive worlds is *incredibly* difficult-- though it can also be exhilarating, fun.  I think some people *are* called to certain jobs-- and not just creative ones.  People are called to be priests, to be engineers, to be parents, to be doctors.  

Being "called" sounds so mythical, but I think it's just about knowing when something is *right.*  It's like finding "the one" in love-- you've got to be open, and you've got to be in the right place at the right time, and you don't get to skip the intros or courtship.  Finding your calling doesn't mean you'll be naturally gifted or that you can skip the work-- but it does mean that you're certain the work is worth it.  

I was lucky-- I found my calling early.  I was unlucky-- it's writing.  

In some ways, rearranging your life around a calling is like rearranging your life around your children-- would you think someone was crazy or strange if they moved to a less comfortable but more child-friendly place, took a less lucrative but more child-friendly job, and limited their social life to what was supportable in light of their child-rearing responsibilities?  Of course not, because that's a totally normal, healthy thing, *regardless* of how the child "turns out."  A parent's priority is their child, and once you know about the child, everything makes sense.  Including the fact that they don't view their child-rearing as a "hobby," and that "fun" and financial rewards aren't the point.  

Without writing, would I be me?  In many ways, to many people, there would be no difference.  But would I be fulfilled?  Definitely not.  No, I wouldn't actually shrivel up and die-- but that's what it would (did!) feel like inside; when I tried to close off the part of myself that needs to write, life felt empty and so did I.

Yes, I struggled for a long time over calling myself a writer, and I don't assume all people need or want to know that tidbit about me.  However, calling myself a writer has nothing to do with whether I've made money at it (some, not much), whether *other* people consider me a writer (who counts?), or how "good" I am at the craft (how good is good enough?  and how can anyone tell?).  

I call myself a writer because it gives my friends and family insight into how I run my life, the choices I make, the needs I have, and how I approach the world.  I call myself a writer because most of the time, that's the shorthand, the label, that fits me best.

Be Gentle!

UPDATE: Ok, so I didn't entirely ignore the blogosphere :)

I think I've officially exhausted and psyched myself out.  

So:

- I'm ignoring the blogs.

- I'm ignoring the how-to books.

- I'm quitting my writing group (though I may join a new one for scripts.  uuuugh).

- I'm hiding my writing from *everyone*.

- I'm forgetting about the whole query process, b/c my novel isn't fully revised.  It isn't even *mostly* revised.  AND, it's not my focus at the moment.

I've got to buckle down and get solid drafts of both my T.V. scripts b/c it turns out I'm going to France in two weeks, and won't be back until June!  Not quite as exciting as it sounds; I'm visiting family with my father.  But I know I won't have a lot of time/inclination to work on T.V. scripts while I'm there, and afterwards-- whooo, the fellowships will be upon us.

So, I took the day off yesterday.  My goals are modest.  And the only input I'm listening to is my gut's.