Now however, I face the second challenge when it comes to The Enemy. I have to write new stuff. From scratch. Gulp.

Out of Shape

So, as I mentioned in my last post, it has been a long time since I actually wrote anything. Even longer since I generated new material. There is something much safer about editing isn’t there?  The ‘hard work’ has already been done (though some may disagree)  Editing isn’t as stressful. Let me go back to my overused exercise analogy. Editing is like doing a familiar workout. It can still be tough, but you know the routine, you’re familiar with it. Generating new material is like starting an entirely new workout. You might have some rough idea of where it’s going to go (especially if you’re one of those planners, and not an improvisational writer) but it’s long, it’s tough, and it’s very daunting.

Well this is where I am right now. I’ve come to the end of what’s familiar, and I’m staring at this massive blank expanse before me.

Where do I go?

The man with this plan is Jez Nicholson. It's probably not a writing plan, but a writing plan could look like this! Click for original photo.

This is the major flaw in being an improvisational writer, isn’t it?  I do have some idea of where the story is headed, but there is that unfortunate gap between where I am now in my writing, and where I have more concrete ideas. And I need to fill the gap. How to do that though?

Easiest option would be to just put it to one side and hope it writes itself, right?

Well we can’t do that, can we?  Or should I say, I…

Options Options

I was going to make another list here but honestly, I couldn’t think of one. Making mental notes and brainstorming are my usual processes, but I’m not sure how well they’d work here.

So I guess I’ll have to plan, right?  It would have been so much easier if I’d done this in the first place. But how do you do this?  The planners amongst you will no doubt scoff, and mutter things like ‘I told you so’ and ‘this is what you get’, but even planners can’t (surely) plan out every beat that a story goes. Sometimes you’ll reach a point where you have point A, and then Point B, but no bridge to get you there. The simplest advice is probably just to go straight from point A to point B (especially in script writing). It’s that maxim again isn’t it?  Start a scene as late as you can, and end it as soon as you can. Short, snappy, to the point.

Which is very good advice, which I should probably follow more often. But sometimes, just sometimes, you can’t do that. Sometimes the void is too big.

Filler

I’ve never been a fan of filler, neither in content and especially not as a writer. If it isn’t interesting to write, then its not going to be interesting to read, is it?  But the filler needs to be written. The in-between bits. And the challenge is to make it interesting. And this is I think the problem I have with my piece. I know where I need to get to, but to get there, the characters have to make a rather uninteresting journey. ‘Make it interesting!  Throw some curveballs in there!’ you might scream. If you’re partial to sporting metaphors. Thing is, I have so many random curveballs in the narrative as it is, throwing in more will only complicate things further.

So, I am not so much offering half baked advice this week, more asking for it. How do I proceed, dear readers?

But far from the grandiose oppressor, it’s often the little things that really get in the way of putting words on the page. That’s why I’m taking a more personal look at three things that stop me from writing on a day-to-day basis (or maybe from week to week).

Scary image courtesy of u-JU.

So take my trembling hand as we prepare to….

Feel the Fear!

1. Finishing. “What? Wait, that’s wrong. He can’t mean finishing, surely. It’s starting that sends the shivers! The blank page, the fingers hovering over the keys, the awful blinking cursor! Oh God, hold me!”

   Well, yes of course. But this terrifying beast has grown to such unnatural proportions that it’s poison has seeped back in time to the project before the one I’m scared of starting. You see, so scared am I of starting something new, that I will put off finishing my current project, in the hope of spending more time in it’s comfortable, familiar embrace.

2. Editing. This is where the real writing is, right? The sculpting of the raw and clumsy words you penned in your first draft. It should be a joy, and to be honest, it is, once I’ve got over the fear.

   The problem here is that I will often put work away for a month or more before I make that first edit. It helps me forget what I’ve written, and so approach it from a more objective viewpoint.

   But whilst locked away in a drawer, trying to be forgotten, it festers and rots, and as the time approaches I become fearful of the ghastly thing I will awaken when I slide the drawer open. What if my writing is so terrible, that I can barely bring myself to read it for the shame? What if it’s beyond repair? What if all that time was wasted?

   Of course, these are silly questions that I know all the retorts to (time writing is never time wasted, and editing even less so, for example. That’s where the learning happens after all), but who said that fear was a rational response to something?

3. Finding my Place. Now we’re really getting day-to-day. Picture the scene – you’re writing your tale on the dead of night (there is probably thunder and lightning and stuff); you’re on a roll, words gushing out everywhere. But you’re so tired. Surely midnight was only five minutes ago, not two hours! So you drag yourself up and shuffle off to bed.

   But throughout the night you toss and turn, strange visions of work left half finished haunt your dreams! What if you can’t pick up on the threads you left behind? You might forget what was going to come next (and it was so good, too); you might write poorly, unable to replicate the wit and flowing sentences you penned before bed.

   In the morning things feel better, as they often do. But when you next approach that story you decide to take a little browse on the web. Then you make a cup of tea, thumb through a nearby magazine, jot down some ideas for some other projects. Anything, in other words, than face the possibility of not picking up those threads.

Now that we’re all shaking and in a cold sweat, let’s calm down an reflect on what’s really stopping us from writing. Your fears may be different from mine, but I’ve no doubt you’ve got some, and the answer to those fears is probably the same as the answer to mine as well. It can be boiled down to this simple phrase:

Just do it.

Nike should start making pens.

In almost all cases fear is simply a nasty trick you play on yourself. That phrase, “there is nothing to fear but fear itself” endures because it is so insightful. Fear is a mask you design – a frightful visage to hang on those things that make you nervous. Face the fear, and that mask is removed, often revealing that there was nothing there at all.

Do just do it. Just write. And you’ll find your fears were unfounded. Sure, you may still be scared the next time, but keep pushing, and eventually those things won’t frighten you anymore.

I’d like to continue the fear fest, so what are some of the little fears that prevent you writing on a day-to-day basis?

Ultimately though, these things are just excuses. To be honest, there should be nothing better for me when I’m tired and distracted than to do a bit of writing. For a start, I always feel better. My mood lifts knowing I’ve made a tiny step towards completing my project.

Second, I actually feel energised! This should be the perfect cure for my weariness!

That’s not the only thing that has prevented me from writing so far this week (admittedly, it is only Tuesday as I write this. but I didn’t do much in the way of writing last week, either). That thing was starting something new. That something new was this blog post! I do it most weeks, of course, but I simply did not know what to write this week. Yesterday, I just put it off.

A blank page! Oh, the horror! Won't someone think of the children?

The cure for this? Just write anyway! Case in point, I sat down and started freewriting, actually writing down, “I need a new blog post. What can I write about?” as a starter, and then riffing on my current feelings about writing. This blog post is the result.

Admittedly, this is no masterpiece, but there are a few lessons to take home, even here.

1. Any reasons you have for not writing at any one time are likely to be excuses. The best way to find out if this is true is to pause, and actually ask yourself (out loud if it helps, and doesn’t get you strange looks), “is this an excuse?” Before you’ve finished the question, you will already know the answer.
2. As we’re asking ourselves questions, the next one should be, “would writing, right now, actually make me happier and more energised.” If the answer is yes, you’d better get over it and get some writing done!
3. If you’re thinking, “but I don’t know what to write,” see point number one. More usefully, just try writing anything, even if it’s a short piece of writing about why you’re not writing(!) Write what you did today; pick an object you see out the window and write about that; pluck a word out of thin air and use it to start a sentence. I am always amazed that anything can come out of this kind of exercise, but it often does. What you definitely don’t want to do is get out of your routine, or out of the habit.

So there it is – no excuses, no time-wasting, no habit-breaking. Done.

Of course, there is always a degree of hand-wringing self-doubt, but because I write so little, novel writing is a very lengthy process. There is so much more time for those pesky “what if”s to sneak in and resume their steady excavation of buried fears.

I have decided to write the first quarter of the book, stop, probably work on something else for a month, then read and edit before continuing with the second quarter. This is a carefully considered plan that allows for the fact that I will take a long time to write it, and therefore allows me to

• work on other things
• remind myself what’s happened so far
• review what will happen going forward

But…

What if it’s no good?

I haven’t read any of it back to myself yet. What if it’s completely useless? Well, this one is not such a mystery. I have pretty much accepted that the whole thing will be rubbish. That’s what happens with a first draft, so fine, whatever. Although I’m sure my first read will be a dispiriting event, at least I will have something I can work with. More concerning is…

What if I don’t know how to edit it properly?

Seriously, what if I can’t make it better, or everything a I do makes it terrible in a different way? This one does give me butterflies, I have to admit. I imagine sitting down to read it and finding that there’s not enough; that I have to pad it out where everyone else has to cut (cutting, I have no real with by the way).

I imagine that it reads too fast, that the pacing is all lopsided, that entire pages are devoid of detail, or are simply uninteresting; that I can’t build a scene, I can’t describe a place or a person, I can’t give someone a convincing voice… Can’t, can’t, can’t. On and on. And people say there’s no such word.

Which is an odd thing to worry about now that I think about it. I have never ever had a problem editing longer work from anyone else. In fact, I have found editing a much more enjoyable experience than writing sometimes. Again, I think the fear is that there won’t be enough there, or that it’s so bad that the whole thing has to be rewritten. Neither have been a problem when reviewing someone else’s work.

What if I never finish?

Yes, there is always the fear of abandonment. I am bucking everyone’s advice by deciding to stop at a “convenient” place and pick it up later. Maybe instead I should go on a little longer, or break a little sooner, so I can continue in something of a flow when I return to write fresh pages.

I will probably do that – it sounds like a good idea. But refusing to work on it for weeks could still lead to a catastrophic stall and so the fear remains. I shall have to leap straight in with both feet when I write the next part.

Well, I’m glad I got that off my chest anyway. It does help sometimes to acknowledge your fears, but I think that’s quite enough for now. Dwelling on them too long can be dangerous. If you have something niggling doubts why not share them yourself in the comments?

Now, this is not to take anything away from the other authors and their advice, but the original list by Elmore Leonard really is a cracker, so if you only read one, then read that one (the article opens with it). Some of the other authors gave a few quick answers, and some answers are more lighthearted. That’s not to say you shouldn’t read them, of course; I really recommend you do. And don’t forget part two, either.

I’ve read the lot and there are some really insightful comments in there, plus a few that crop up more than once. I’ve decided to pick out my favourites and create a top ten for myself. I haven’t credited each author, simply to avoid cluttering the list, and again I must stress that you should read the whole article in full.

Top ten tips and rules for writers by published authors

1. Write. Sounds ridiculous, but it’s true; just get the hell on with it.
2. Editing is everything. Cut, cut, cut. And if it sounds like writing, rewrite it; style is the art of getting yourself out of the way, not putting yourself in it.
3. Finish the day’s writing when you still want to continue, or are in mid-flow, even mid-sentence. That way you can jump right in the next day.
4. Read. Widely.
5. Never use a verb other than “said” to carry dialogue, and never use an adverb to modify the verb “said”. If the reader can’t tell how something was said, rewrite your dialogue instead.
6. Read it aloud to yourself – especially dialogue. Rhythm is important, and if it’s difficult to read out loud, it might be difficult to read full-stop.
7. Give it to someone else to read. These should be a trusted few, as also advised by Stephen King.
8. Do it every day. Don’t wait for inspiration, write anyway. By the way, although this sounds like the best idea ever, I don’t do it. But at the very least you should establish a routine.
9. Put “finished” drafts aside for a while.
10. Be without fear. Or know that you are afraid, but barge through it to the other side.

These are my favourites, you may feel differently. Let me know your favourites from the article, plus any other tips you’ve heard authors give, in the comments below. You can also give your own tips if you like.

So, one failed experiment later, I am in slightly more comfortable territory, and am looking at ways to plan out my novel. One site I have found especially useful (I have pretty much decided to base my plan on the advice there) is Larry Brooks storyfix.com, and especially his ten part story structure series. What I now want to do, is get an outline of each of the four boxes he describes and what happens within them in my story.

Now, to be clear, none of what Larry says here is rocket science. Nor is it even new or unfamiliar. This structure is recognisable in most novels I’ve read and certainly in any good film I’ve seen (they are shorter, and so it’s much easier to see the structure). But having it all written down and elaborated on by someone who knows is really useful, and I’m sure it’s going to save me a good deal of head scratching.

Can you plan too much?

Yes. I really believe you can. And spoil the enjoyment of writing your story in the process. How much is too much? Ah, now there I cannot help. I have a strong feeling this will be down to the individual. My rule of thumb at the moment is to pay attention, and if it feels right to write, or if I know that any more planning is just procrastination, then I’m done.

Another couple of points I’m keeping in mind, just to keep things loose are:

Keep the details sparse

I think I’ll keep a separate document for working things out. This is because I tend to think my way through problems best by writing through them. This tends to create a lot of disorganised detail about various parts of the story, which is great, but not something I want cluttering up my outline, and probably something I don’t want to look at too often once the ideas have solidified.

Instead I will keep my outline clean by giving each major scene or part of the story a title, just to remind me what goes in it. I probably won’t go as far as naming every single scene, but the important ones will certainly get this treatment. Filling in the gaps can be done (to a certain, as yet undetermined extent) later.

Feel free to change it

The problem with writing down a plan (and probably a big reason for so called “organic” writers hating them), is that it makes things feel permanent. This does not have to be the case of course. I will keep my plan open at all times when writing so that I can change it on the fly should I think of another scene that can go in. I will also plan regular reviews if my plan so that I can change it in light of something I have written, and to check that I still like where it’s going.

So that’s the plan for the plan. I will of course, let you know how I get on. In the mean time I’d love to know your thoughts on planning and what methods you use. Please use the comments section below.