Anyway. I touched upon the subject of fluidity, and different approaches that could be made regarding back story. Now personally, I favour having a rigid back story. The Canon so to speak. It may sound like a drag, sorting out the back story before you get to work on the actual writing, but if you have it all laid out beforehand, you can speed through a story faster. I guess a rigid back story is like a safety net. It’s always there, so you know that there’s something. I’m not saying you have to have all the minutiae written out for every character, but a definite outline I always find useful. Quite handily, I opted out of a rigid back story in my most recent effort, and went for the alternative.

Fluidity

What if you write more on the fly? Is it really that bad to come up with the back story as you go along? It can offer a little more freedom with characters and how they behave if you don’t have a set-in-stone back story for them.

I’ve written about improvisational writing in the past, and the dangers it can pose, and fluidity here is somewhat similar. Of course, with back story you do have to have some sort of loose framework. Enough structure that allows you to navigate, and fill in the gaps as you go. Being fluid with the back story can also be an advantage. For example, if you have a rigid back story, what if you hit a plot point that cant be resolved with that? I’ve hit this problem before, and I have gone to huge lengths to write around it, creating implausible scenarios and adding maybe thirty-forty extra minutes of screen-time (this was a screenplay idea I was working on) in order to try and get myself out of this hole. If you work with a more fluid back story, then you will encounter this problem far less frequently.

Fluidity, see?

Dangerous Waters

See, the water represents a fluid backstory, and the ice is a rigid backstory, but then it can get all fragmented and... nevermind. Fantastic image from George Grinsted (click for more)

There are of course dangers here. Especially if you try to move between the two. There isn’t much middle ground, and if you’re not careful, your back story can get fragmented all over the place. Making even minor changes can result in a ripple effect, which can result in having to rewrite huge swathes of material later down the line. Or it can open up huge plot holes. TV shows do this all the time. By either introducing siblings to main characters that have never been mentioned before, or completely changing a characters backstory, just to get some new plotlines going. Heroes did this a lot, which is one of the reasons it tanked.

On the other hand, it can allow you to experiment. Writing is after all about experimentation, is it not? Until a piece of writing is actually published, it can always be altered, and improved upon. If you do hit a wall in the narrative, then you can return to your back story and experiment. I’m not saying that you should completely change a particular character’s back story (unless its an emergency, I’ve had to do that in order to give a character, you know, motivation), but making small changes here and there to experiment can be helpful.

Above all, Experiment

Yes, I am aware that I have somewhat contradicted myself, but sometimes you have to. You may just experiment as a thought exercise, just to open up new avenues, or you may need to in order to get past one of those trouble plot issues. Sometimes even the most rigid of back stories need to be changed. Or at least clarified. I know that the few major back story changes I’ve made in my own work have been for the better. Also, remember that it’s your work. Unless you write non-fiction, it’s your world that you’re creating. You’re not going to rewrite the holocaust (unless you need to) so, as ever, experiment…

Well, I’ve hit a bit of a snag with this.

Unfortunately, not all crossroads in life are clearly marked. That's deep that. Image courtesy of Mark Smallwood

There are dangers to this kind of writing.  Both Matt and I have discussed this before, but I’d like to take a direct look at the dangers myself here (since I have recommended freeform writing in the past) 

The Dangers

Danger One of course is ending up with a hulking great brick of a manuscript – a tangled mess of various ideas which don’t really gel together and require massive amounts of redrafting.  This is obviously where having a plan comes in really handy.  Even if you have just a most basic outline, then it can help.  I discovered this while thinking about my first book.  Now this I have completed, and have redrafted many times.  But I have fiercely kept some material which I liked almost from draft one, and since the project has evolved, it doesn’t really fit together.  Now, do I work some magic and smooth it over, or do I amputate the (admittedly less mature) material in another huge overhaul?  I can’t even bear thinking about that.  But I’ll go into that more in danger three.

Danger Two is that you may get to a certain point and not know how to progress.  This is the danger that has hampered me with my newest project.  It’s the new book I was writing, which inspired me to write about improvisational writing in the first place.  Yes, I had a vague idea of where the whole story was going to end up, but having completed part one, I’ve stalled.  I have to get the story from point A to point D, but I have no idea where points B and C are, or what happens there.

So how to remedy this?  Brainstorm?  Come up with a plan?  Some writers would suggest that you do the latter option even before you start the project.  But what if, like me, you have all this material already?  You have the start, and you have the destination, so take some time out and plot out the journey.  Yes, that is the sensible option. 

But how about something more radical?  More out there?  More… foolish?  This struck me while thinking about it.  How about scrapping the destination altogether?  Yes, I knew where this was going, but that was when the journey first started.  Since I started writing, and new plots and characters developed, this ultimate destination seemed to get further and further away (which results in Danger One of course).  So screw the original plan and pick a new destination. 

As I said, very very foolish. 

Danger Three is multi-booking.  How do you see this project working out?  Now, I’ve never been a fan of trilogies for trilogies’ sake.  That was of course until I dove into my first book and yes, I get it.  Spending so much time, effort, energy, blood, sweat, tears and other less mentionable bodily fluids mapping out characters and situations, you can get attached.  And obviously, once you’ve gotten attached it can be hard to let go.  ‘Hey, I don’t need to!’ You might say, ‘I’ll just write another book with these characters.’ 

Which of course can be a blessing and a curse.  Obviously, if your aim is to get published, then it’s good to have ideas for more books down the line.  And let’s face it, its easier to write a second or third book in a world you’ve already mapped out, with characters you already know.  Publishers like this too, because if the first book is a success, then there is a pre-built fan-base for the second and so one.  But the curse of it?  How much do you plan out for the series?  Now this depends on genre.  With crime fiction, I’m guessing it’s a little simpler.  Establish your detective/detectives, then throw new cases at them every book.  I don’t think like that though.  Unfortunately, I’m all about the bigger picture.  It’s the one area where I will plan out in advance. 

So you have an idea for a multi-book storyline.  How much of it do you throw in to that first book?  If I can briefly divert into film territory here, film trilogies can do this a lot.  The first film in a trilogy can essentially act as stand alone (Lord of the Rings, The Matrix, Back to the Future), while films two and three will often be one story split across two films, which you can’t really watch without having seen the others.  Can you do the same with books?  Well it’s a different medium isn’t it?  A film you digest in a few hours, a book can take anything from a few days to a few weeks.  So there is less room for (seemingly) extraneous material, especially in that all important first book. 

So how do you deal with this?  Personally, I have tended to map out the story for book two in a series (and even begun writing it) before the first book is even finished.  Yes, this is stupid, and pointless, and can definitely hinder you if you want to go mad and ditch the destination as I suggested in Danger Two.  But really, if you do have a multi-book idea, then you do definitely need to chart it out.  In detail.  Have an overarching plot that runs through all the books, and then introduce smaller plots that emerge in a book by book basis.  You cant just freeform a multi-book plot.  Trust me, I’ve tried in the past and it blows up in your face. 

Cul-de-sacs

Sometimes you just have to throw things out. Image courtesy of Sharon Drummond.

So this is where I am.  I am hitting dead ends everywhere, and am failing to see a way to progress.  Part of me deep down (a sick twisted part of me that I really shouldn’t listen to) is telling me that to take a time out and do some actual planning is dumb, because it’s time being wasted on planning, when I could be using that time writing.  But then, if I’m not doing the writing in the first place… 

Another part of me is telling me to just bin everything and start from scratch.  It’s all well and good moving chunks of text around to try and get them to all fit so you can open up a way forward, but it doesn’t help in really pushing me to progress.  Whereas if I got rid of all of those blocks, I might be able to see a path. 

A third part is telling me to take a step back, breathe, and next time I start a new project, make it something small and simple, two girls sitting on a beach or something.  No aliens, no government plots, and no multidimensional creatures intent on destroying the universe.

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.

I would think of Star Wars, and how Mr. Lucas started with the middle three chapters of the story (and we’ve seen what difficulty he had in trying to start from the very beginning. Born from midichloreans indeed); and I watched Akira, noticing how the vast bulk of the story actually happened in the past. Backstory was everything.

It would follow then, that a large portion of my writing time would be spent on fleshing out the backstory, and making it compelling. It was, after all, the backdrop to the story; the motivation for the characters; the very reason for the events in the story proper to now take place. Complete all this, and my story would take care of itself.

Well, okay. Maybe. But I don’t think that way now, and in truth, I never tried it out this way either. Of course backstory is important, and especially in a film like Akira, where the situation is basically, “what happened before might happen again”. But I would argue that the really important parts of your backstory, the ones that make your premise possible, you already know. The rest is for texture and theming; still important of course, but I’m not keen on spending pages and pages writing complete histories for each of my characters. And I don’t think it’s necessary.

With the story I’m currently writing, I’m taking the same approach to backstory as I’m trying with plot (see this article from Craig). I’m not entirely making it up as I go along, I have a very rough idea, but for the most part, I’m experimenting, having fun just making stuff up, and seeing what feels right. That stuff stays, the rest goes. I’ve got to be careful, of course, when I plant the seed of a potential plot development or character backstory, I’ve got to be aware that’s what I’m doing. I’ve got to remember I’ve done it, and think about where it can go, what other connections can be made. Otherwise I’ll just end up with a birds nest of ideas. I think as long as I keep my wits about me I should be alright, but I’ll keep you posted.

Any tips or discussion around backstory? You know what to do!

But something happened last week, I don’t know what it was really, a strange congruence of idea and inspiration, that magic sense of things just falling into place. Not only did I have the opening of this book all mapped out, but I actually managed to write it all down in one sitting too. Two hours of pure straight up writing. Now I’m not saying all of this to brag, far from it, but it made me think about how daunting it can be to start a new project (especially if you- and by that I mean me- have so many unfinished projects lying around the place). Of course there is the initial excitement of formulating the idea, the skeleton of the story, the origins of your main characters, and letting them set out on their journey, but what is the ultimate destination? Where are they headed?

Some writers I’m sure know exactly where a project is heading. They have the whole thing mapped out, and know what they’re going to write. Personally, I’m more of a seat of your pants writer – when it comes to longer projects anyway – and often I’m not sure exactly how a project is going to end. This has its own dangers of course. Multiple books, the dreaded trilogy (I detest trilogies), books hundreds upon hundreds of pages long. You may also – in the editing – be required to cut huge reams of material that simply don’t fit in once you’ve reached the end and have to go back for your redrafts. However, it can also be exciting, in a way, letting your characters take you through their lives, on the paths that feel natural to them, seeing them succeed or fail, sometimes even die. I used to be really precious about all my characters, never wanting any of them to come to any harm, but this creates a cast of dull superhumans who can conquer any problem. Once I’d readjusted my thinking of that, I am now all too happy to kill off or maim or destroy my characters (perhaps a little too gleefully in some cases)

I guess this all falls under the umbrella of improvisational writing. This new project that I’ve started, I know roughly how the main plot strands start, I’ve some vague idea’s of where they may cross each other, may interweave, but other than that, I’m going to see where it takes me. Provided of course that I can continue to write! Maybe you don’t see it as such a big deal. Hey, maybe all writing is improvisational, at its most base level, but I would like to think that this isn’t always the case. Especially with shorter fiction. Generally (I personally feel) a short story is like a moment, an episode that drops you into a situation, takes you through it, pulls you out. There are other posts here (courtesy of Matt) dealing with shorter fiction (MUCH shorter in some cases!) and that is a challenge in itself. Creating a complete whole in a few thousand words. This is why I find it much more difficult to improvise with shorter fiction. There aren’t that many other paths to go down. Not that there is anything wrong with that, it can be far more fulfilling to create and complete a fiction in an afternoon, in one sitting, than to have a long winding road ahead of you which ultimately leads to a destination you can’t quite see. I personally just enjoy the journey.