Writer at Large

Okay, nothing to see here . . . Move along, move along . . .

Well, June has come . . . and gone. Script Frenzy has also come . . . and gone. 2,879 words completed out of 20,000. There's all sorts of reasons (and a few lame excuses) as to why, but I figure any number of words greater than zero is a good thing. And I did learn a few things along the way:

• The muse seems to enjoy working in script format. The entire time, though, I envision her hovering over my shoulder, with her wings slowly flapping, wearing a shirt that reads "What I want to do is Direct" (http://www.cafepress.com/hollywoodgifts/3022725).

• Sometimes I think it's possible to aim one's goals a little too high. Writing a good romantic comedy is even harder than it looks. One of the challenges of Script Frenzy was to start with an idea from scratch, and that's the one the muse chose. On the bright side, at least I got the idea started and learned several things in the process.

So, in the end, nothing to see here . . . Move along, move along . . .

I'm looking for surprises as I tell a story . . . my favorite writers say that in their best stories they didn't have any idea they'd turn out the way they did. It's a good lesson . . . not to plan a story ahead of time but just to gather what's important and start out on it.

Rick Bass
Passion and Craft: Conversations with Notable Writers

There's no doubt that my muse has a mind of her own. Of late, my efforts to tame her have consisted primarily of "We will write at least one page for potentially paying work before you can play." For the most part, it has worked. She's being difficult by not focusing on the novel I want to be finished, but I learned long ago not to force her into directions where she doesn't want to go.

One recurring thing she does is decide how the story ends, often before I'm even sure how it begins. This happened with Battlefield and now, again, with the novel version of Emerald Flight. In both of these cases, I've written most of the key final scenes in the book, so evidently she knows where the story needs to go—and she's making her wishes perfectly clear from the onset.

In a lot of ways, this kind of feels like writing without a net, not having the story completely mapped out. I suppose, though, that knowing how the story ends helps since I know ultimately where all the loose ends need to be tied up.

I have discovered that writing in this manner does allow the story to move and the characters to behave in often unexpected and revealing ways. I think it makes for a more interesting story, as terrifying as it to be working without the safety cushion of a detailed outline. As Robert Frost said, "No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. No surprise in the writer, no surprise in the reader."

I guess, in the end, that's really what it's all about.

Artists who seek perfection in everything are those who cannot attain it in anything.

Eugène Delacroix

The other day I was discussing writing projects with a friend and she said that her current story "needed work". I told her, half-jokingly, that's why first drafts were invented. (Generally, I strive to just get the thing done and then go back and fix it up in later drafts. Otherwise, I know I'll endlessly fiddle with the middle parts and never quite get it finished.) This then led to a discussion of "how things used to be".

During my younger days, I wrote many scripts, stories, and an entire novel(!) using typewriters (both manual and electric). I've discovered that word processors have truly spoiled us in terms of the writing process. In the past, I can remember scribbling notes on a page as it came out of the typewriter with corrections or things to address in the next draft. (I still have these boxed away somewhere. :-) ) And there was always the thought in the back of my mind, "Oh god, I need to re-type all of this again for the next draft!" That's just the way it was, but I think we might have taken more care with each word as we wrote, knowing this.

Word processing programs have taken a lot of the labor out of the work. Now, if I remember something I wanted to do earlier or need to adjust because of a later change in the story flow, I can do it immediately. The technological advantage is a major boon as well as a distraction. The line between first, second, and third drafts begins to blur as it's now so easy to scroll up or open a new window and edit as you go along.

The striving for perfection in our work is as admirable as it can be detrimental to ever completing a writing project. In the typewriter days, a draft was often final for no other reason than because we could not bear the thought of typing it all over one more time. Now, I think there's always the thought, "I can do one more pass . . ." Hence, many writing projects sit not-quite-finished.

So, what's the motivation to finish a project? Certainly, a paid deadline helps. :-) But what about for projects for which you don't have a signed check awaiting its delivery? (Of course, if the projects never gets completed and submitted, it's unlikely that there will ever be a signed check waiting at the other end.) I suppose there's always the persistent nagging of supportive friends and family . . . :-D

I knew I must write a novel. But it seemed an impossible thing to do when I had been trying with great difficulty to write paragraphs that would be the distillation of what made a novel. It was necessary to write longer stories now as you would train for a longer race.

Ernest Hemingway

When I have an idea for a story, I don't always know whether it's destined to be a short story or a novel. In general, they begin as short stories, but I get caught up in the idea and want to explore it completely and it begins to transform itself into a full-blown novel—with all the benefits and dangers that encompasses.

Past wisdom has been that writers should write (and sell!) short stories as practice toward eventually attempting novel-length works. Unfortunately, wide markets for short stories are rapidly vanishing (surprising, considering the average attention span of many people), so there are increasingly fewer markets for new writers to sell and publish their shorter work. Markets for novellas and novettes are nearly non-existent, so most writers end up having to make the leap between short stories to full-length novels (or, in many cases, series of novels—publishers seem to really like trilogies and longer series of books).

One maor issue is whether the idea can support a novel-length story. In many cases, it depends on the goal of the story and the intended audience. A lightweight idea can be sustained if the characters and situations are particularly compelling in same way. If characters are secondary, then the idea needs to pretty heavyweight, interesting enough in its own right to keep readers turning the pages. (In the science fiction genre, titles like Ringworld and Rendezvous with Rama come to mind in that category.)

Another problem with novels is that they take a long time to write. Even if the muse is cooperative, a novel-length work consists of a lot of words! It's definitely not for writers who desire instant gratification, unless they can find in the completion of a really good passage or chapter. That's probably the reason why so many people have half-finished novels sitting in their filing cabinets and hard drives.