Yes, that influence thing.

Now both Matt and myself have said on several occasions (not that this is some unique revelation, its just simple fact) that to be a good writer, you have to be a good reader. Read read read. Not just in terms of research (for the more technically minded out there) but in terms of the genre you’re writing in. If you write crime fiction, then logic dictates that you should read a lot of crime fiction, just to see what’s out there, and how to make yourself unique.

Yup, all well and good, right?

Insidious Tentacles

The one thing you must be absolutely aware of, at all times, is to not become so influenced that you essentially copy another writer’s work. Yes, okay, to a certain extent, this is unavoidable. If you take the point of view that there are no new stories, just new versions of stories then, yes, to a certain extent you are going to copy.

You may even have one or two favoured writers whose prose really clicks with you, and you may attempt to emulate their style. I have done this with my writing in the past. Some of my earlier attempts at writing funny stuff was greatly influenced by Robert Rankin, but that was more just his style as opposed to ideas. Another big influence for me has been Michael Marshall (a.k.a. Michael Marshall Smith), who I’ve had the pleasure of meeting on more than one occasion.

However, my latest project, which I have lamented about in previous posts, has driven me to a most disturbing (and slightly depressing) revelation.

Plagiarism

Yes. This is what I’m talking about. There is a huge difference I’d like to make here between copying (emulating) and plagiarism (uh, copying). Obviously if you write a story about a young farm boy named Lucas Airrunner wanting to avenge the death of his family by learning the ways of ‘The Power’ and taking on an evil galactic Imperium with the help of a pirate named Han Duo and his furry associate Munchbacca, then you’re clearly just ripping off some franchise I shall not name here. It’s perfectly obvious that you’re plagiarising. But where is the line? At what point does simply emulating a preferred writer’s style cross over into plagiarism?

I feel I should point out here that no matter who you are, unless you are a truly terrible writer, then you will have your own writers’ voice. I’m not questioning that. I have been told in the past that my own writers’ voice is particularly prominent in my work. I may post about that later.

But getting back to my most recent project, I’ve been having trouble nailing down how act two works. So I went back to the drawing board. There was a major subplot (why a group of people are doing what they’re doing) which remained murky. This is what I get for just improvising. So I went back to explore the reasons, and come up with some back story to explain. And I had one of those monumental realisations. One of those truly magic moments when massive chunks fall into place and it is as if all obstacles have been removed.

OK, so it may not have cleared up everything, but the revelation was enough that I felt I could write that as a self contained story, which would probably be novella length.

Yes, so far, so good. But there was something niggling at me, at the back of my mind, and it wasn’t just the usual self-doubt.

Then I had me another revelation, only this one wasn’t as welcome.

Over the past few years I have read a lot of Neal Asher. All of his major novels in fact. And yes, I do admit, I do love the world of the Polity he has created, in all of it’s epic, violent, monstrously huge glory. I will even go so far as to admit that it was reading his work, being influenced by it that led me back to this long dormant project, and paved the way for me to get enthused about it again. But this week I have seriously begun to wonder whether I have been too influenced.

Am I Plagiarising?

Well, am I? This is the question. Yes, as with all niche genre’s, there are only limited options for you in terms of your writing. How do you make Vampire fiction fresh for example (answer: Leave it ten years for this latest phase to die down, then write the opposite of what this phase has been about)? But how do you write new, fresh big scale space operas?

How can you tell if you’re plagiarising? Well, one obvious way is if you get a lawsuit from your favourite author. That would be a big clue. But perhaps the only clue you need is if you actually ask yourself that question. Am I Plagiarising? It can be a depressing thought, and if it only dawns on you in the midst of writing something, then short of scrapping it, you can only really exercise damage control. Or leave the project alone for six months, start work on something else, then come back to it with fresh eyes.

As long as you don’t just use this as an excuse to not get something finished…

Image courtesy of Chocolate Geek

This question was prompted by a book I’m reading, novel in a year, by Louise Doughty. The book is divided up into weeks, and every other week has an exercise. One of the early exercises is to sum up why you want to be a novelist, in one sentence. One sentence – that’s tricky.

The Love of it

I spent some time trying to think of some deep purpose to my ambition; something original, that might sound wise or insightful. But I kept coming back to the fact that I really like reading novels. I’ve always liked them. As far back as I can remember, I have enjoyed getting lost in another world. Novels are long enough to do that, and I find them much more absorbing than any other medium.

And what I enjoy, I want to emulate. Or, if not emulate (although there have been many authors I admire, I only want to sound like myself when I write), at least make my own version thereof.

My Readers Need Me!

No, I cannot pretend that I have some altruistic desire to share the pleasure I get from reading – to impart the same with my own work. In part, that would seem rather arrogant of me, I think. It’s not that I don’t believe that there are people out there that would enjoy my work, but I do not assume that the world is clamouring for a novel by Matt Roberts. And I don’t see it as my duty that I write for these people; that it would be a selfish tragedy to deny them such works of genius!

Apart from that, I do not require readers to want to write a novel. Without anyone to read it, I would likely still write it anyway.

Climbing the Mountain

The challenge might be another part of it, though. It’s a long old process, especially for those of us who can only write in small snatches. But I imagine a day when my novel is finally completed, and know that the relief and pride that come from such an accomplishment will be worth it. That is one of the things that spurs me on. Without relishing the challenge, I believe I would be consigned to writing quarter-finished pieces, constantly starting on the next project, but never finishing.

So, why do I want to be a novelist, in one sentence?
I want to become a novelist, because I love novels, and relish the feeling of satisfaction I’ll have when I finally complete my own.

Perhaps not amazingly profound, but true, and motivation enough. Have you ever taken the time to consider why you want to be a novelist, poet, shirt story writer, script writer etc.? I’d love to read your reasons!

Image courtesy of Markus Rödder.

Now it could be that I’m just tired if the thing. It could be that I don’t have enough material in my head. It could be that since I decided the point where I was going to stop, my brain has taken the cue and gone into early shut down.

It could be all three.

In any case it seems pointless to bash my head against a brick wall for now, and while I’m kind of in the middle of a section, it’s probably a better place to stop anyway. Besides, if I don’t write anything else until this novel’s finished my portfolio will look rather starved.

So, decision made, I’m settling down to thrash out a short story I’ve had gestating in my mind for a while and now feels ready for birth. I’m really going to go for it! Hack away ’till done. Edit ’till done. Boom! It feels refreshing just thinking about it!

Then, rather than dive straight back into the novel, I thought I’d do a little bit of world-building. I’m thinking specifically of the characters. These guys aren’t exactly writing themselves here, and I don’t think I’ve got to know them yet. Rather than wait for the second draft, I’ll get a better understanding now, and apply that going forward.

I’ll update with a post about exactly how I did that when I get round to it.

For now, I’m hoping that a change really is as good as a rest, and the shift in scenery will see my writing instincts wake up again.

What do you do when you feel yourself flagging?

Or can I?

There is a certain respect in which a writing project is never truly finished.  Barring getting published, which is a definite end, though part of me suspects that even if that were the case with me, I’d still do another redraft.  Because there is always room for improvement, isn’t there?  I’m not quite at that stage yet, where I can let a project go and see how it functions in the world, but I can feel myself getting close. 

It may be a little pre-emptive, but I thought I’d explore it in this entry. 

Finishing the Marathon

Aside from being a relief, it’s also a little exciting.  Knowing that a project is going to be finished, and that it’s going to be in the public domain, and the sense of achievement that comes along with that -  It’s a thrill!  It is however, just the first marathon of many.  Anyone who is serious about getting published needs to have an ongoing plan.  To thrash the writing/exercise metaphor again, you’ve completed your first marathon, but there are still so many to get through.  You can’t completely stop working out in between.

You still need more ideas, other stories to build, blank slates to fill.  Most probably, you may have to develop more ideas with the characters you’ve created, write a follow up book or series. After all, if your readers are familiar with the characters you’ve already created, they wont need to invest as much effort getting to know a huge new bunch of characters.  This works both ways, too.  If you, as a writer, have invested so much time in creating these characters and the world they live in, then you may feel reluctant to abandon them to it after just one project. 

Just Plain Lazy?

When I first started writing seriously, I was opposed to the idea of writing sequels for the sake of it.  I’ll be honest, I was naïve enough to think that it was lazy.  An easy get out.  This was of course before I pumped so much of my time, effort and energy into writing a full novel.  Once I’d written it, and done endless redrafts, my thinking was radically altered.  I kind of understood that it wasn’t laziness at all.  When you create a group of characters, and see how well they work, then you come to understand that they have far more potential than one book or series or whatever can give them. 

I know this isn’t always the case.  Some characters work really well for just one book, and that’s fine, but sometimes they can surprise you, and give you a lot more longevity.  This is what I discovered from the book I wrote.  The characters had other stories to tell.  It’s also the case of this series that I’ve written.  While it has at times been trying, and the thought of writing a second series fills me with a cold dread, there is a longer story here.  I know (roughly) how it ends, and depending on how well I can generate further ideas, there is a second, possibly even a third series in it.  But how do you prepare yourself for this?  Personally, I’m going to take a break.  Not from writing altogether, just from this project.  It’s been tough, because it’s kinda heavy, complex, and has a lot of science behind it.  My next project is going to be light, easy going, not as rigid and serious. 

Hopefully, my next entry will be the one where I can claim to have finished (aside from the final edit), and I’ll be able to give a better account of how it feels, to me.

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?

What’s so good about it? Well, it’s extremely dense, for one thing. That doesn’t sound like a pleasant read, but every page is chock full of science, social commentary and insightful character actions and thoughts. In this the density does not become a slog but the reason to continue. It’s engaging and there’s something to learn on every page.

Now, when I read a good book, it’s often an inspiring thing. Many is the Stephen King or Chuck Palanuik book that’s been finished with one thought echoing round in my head, “I want to write”! But Red Mars is one novel where the mountain looks too steep. I think of just the science alone, and I cringe at the hours, days, weeks that must have been involved to get that level of detail. Then there’s the social and political commentary. While the events that take place are easy enough to dream up, it’s the detail (again) of the characters’ comments, beliefs and ideals that intimidate. Not forgetting that the book spans some thirty odd years in the lives of completely believable characters. And this is the first book in a trilogy!

Now, I do realise that this is quite a bit of whingy hand-wringing on my part. In truth (and even though it’s been quite a while since a book has affected me like this), I shrugged it off fairly quickly. There will always be someone better than you (much, much better probably. No offence), but that doesn’t mean there isn’t a place for you and that you should give up. I’m saying “you” but I am of course referring to myself, too.

I guess I can keep it as an example of something to aspire to, even if I think I’ll never get there. An even better take home message, is that our writing is different, and should stay that way. I should not be intimidated (or even inspired) to alter my writing style in worship of another writer. I shall continue with my writing and let my style grow, not in isolation, but in its own way.

We could get a really terrifying list of books here, but let’s embrace that! What books have intimidated you, and why?

So, I have a potential problem here. But should I be bothered about the fact that I currently have no ending? My Mind argues with itself thus:

Yes! If you don’t know your ending, what are you going to work towards?
An interesting point. Presumably I’m going to want to foreshadow my ending with hints about how the story will be resolved. I will have to make sure my characters have all the right tools, and that everyone is at the right place at the right time.

No! That’s what other drafts are for! Besides, you want to give yourself enough freedom to make the story end naturally.
I see. Over the course of writing my story, I will likely form a more coherent set of characters. What I’ve planned for them in the end might not fit with the story and people that have evolved as part of the process. Then I’ll be shoehorning an ill-fitting climax to the finish of my story!

Yes! What if you get to the end and you still can’t think if an ending?
Oh, I didn’t think of that. I don’t want to stall at the last hurdle, do I.

No! But how long are you going to wait? And in the meantime, what, you don’t start writing?
Well yes, I have to start some time. Although not writing it at all has a certain appeal. It certainly seems easier…

Yes! No! What!?
You’re right. Forget I said anything.

Or something like that anyway.

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.