Writerly Ways
Nov. 22nd, 2009 05:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
cornerofmadnessYeah definitely will be going back to update this nano to the later end of the 1920's. What are strange time period it chose to be. Also i'd like to buy some description for 500, Pat. No clothing, no houses, nothing really has a description. Okay the police station's exterior and the dive bar do but that's it. geez.
still this nano felt different. It felt like the first time. Until the Ice Melts and Beneath the Torn Sky have something in common. They wrote themselves in a linear fashion and easily. I really haven't had to wrestle with them. My first and my current are coming out of this the closest I've ever had to having a working novel. Now Splinters of Cold Iron and Silver is working its way there now too but the other two may never become more than a shell. I think Placid et al will have a lot to say once nano dies away.
There were actually THREE pep talks this week instead of two but I'm not including them all. One was by an author who had been on my flist but her extreme politics made me back away in a hurry. Also, her talk was just bewildering and not too helpful so here are the two I liked.
Greetings, fellow novelists!
So, now that you've been writing for a few weeks, here's my question. Have you started to realize what you've gotten yourself into? Is the realization accompanied by a creeping sense of panic?
If your answer is no, rock on. But if your answer is yes—if your novel has gotten more complicated than you ever thought it would—if you're not sure you've got what it takes to pull this project off—then I'm here for you today with a message, and the message is: don't panic. Don't panic! No one would ever do anything great if they knew at the outset what they were getting themselves into. And I happen to know, at the core of my soul, that you can do this. How do I know? Because I've been there, many times. Sometimes it feels like my permanent state of being. And you know what? I've learned that I'm capable of a lot more than I generally think I am—and you are, too.
A lot of people who don't write novels don't really understand what it's like. They think that something easy to read must have been easy to write. What a lark! How fun to just let your imagination run wild and jot down stories all day!
I suppose there's nothing wrong with these people. Doubtless, there are thousands of occupations I don't appreciate the complexity of. For example, doesn't it seem like it would be fun to be the weatherman? But, then, everybody expects you to predict unpredictable events, and when you get it wrong, everyone thinks you're a bozo. Plus, you probably have to sit still in a chair for ages every day while people do your makeup and spray smelly things into your hair.
Here's what it starts to be like for me somewhere in the midsection of a novel:
(1) I've written the beginning, but I'm pretty sure it's a pile of crap.
(2) The end, when I even dare to contemplate it, feels as far away as Uranus.
(3) The prose I'm writing right now, here in the middle, sounds like a stiff little busybody who's sat down too hard on a nettle.
(4) I've discovered that my plot, even if it's an engaging plot, has sections that are not engaging to write, and I'm bogged down in those doldrums sections, when all I want is to move on to the exciting parts that are just ahead —but I can't, not until I've written the parts that will get me there. Boring!
(5) The house is strewn with post-it notes on which are written about a gazillion important reminders of things I must somehow remember to find a way to weave into the novel at some point, although, where, I can't imagine. Some of the post-it notes are written hastily in a code I have since forgotten. ("He is temperamentally sweet, but dangerous, like Jake." That would be very helpful, if I had the slightest idea to whom "he" refers, or if I knew anyone named Jake.)
(6) Worst of all, whenever I take a step back and try to examine objectively this unstructured mess that is half created and half still living in my head and heart and hope (and on a gazillion post-it notes)... I get this horrible, sinking feeling that my novel isn't actually about anything.
Does any of that sound familiar to you?
Listen. Learning to write 50,000 words means learning a whole pile of skills, but they're learnable skills, and you learn them by writing. One of those skills is finding your own technique for dealing with all the voices that are constantly telling you, in one way or another, what a bonehead you are and how bad you are at this and how doomed your project is. I'm not saying don't listen to the voices. Go ahead and listen to them— if you try to ignore them, sometimes they only scream louder. I'm only saying, don't believe them— and, most importantly, don't let them decide how you spend your day. Maybe laugh and give them a hug and say to them, "Yes, you're sad and lonely and desperate for my attention, aren't you? Well, thank you for visiting; stay as long as you need to; but, by the way, I think we're going to have to agree to disagree. Because I know I can do this, and, as it happens, you can't stop me. Want to sit with me at my desk while I show you what I mean?"
Self-doubt and fear are just part of the process. Those voices are never going to go away. Write anyway. Take a breath; go for a walk; look at the stars; listen to OutKast and shake it like a Polaroid picture; and then, sit down and write anyway. Incidentally, I think the fastest I've ever written 50,000 words was in about eight months. I don't actually keep track of word count, I just keep track of whether or not I'm making progress, and I think that's what NaNoWriMo is about: getting into the habit of making progress. And progress is something every writer needs to define for him- or herself. Throwing out the last twenty pages you just wrote can involve just as much progress as writing three new ones. So try not to beat yourself up if your novel makes it clear to you that you're going to have to shift your goals.
Breathe. Be kind to yourself. Don't panic. Take risks. Make messes. Decide every day that in your writing toolbox, next to the fear and self-doubt, you are also going to keep at least one tiny little seed of faith. That's all you need to keep going—one mustard seed. Keep tight hold on that faith, and keep writing.
-Kristin Cashore
Lindsey here, Community Liaison for NaNoWriMo.
Last week the love interest in my novel did something kind of abhorrent. He drugged the neighbor's dog and blamed it on his girlfriend. I couldn't believe he did that! It was a completely unauthorized move. But once it was done, there was no undoing it. All the things I had planned for him to do and say in upcoming scenes were all wrong—suddenly my knight was a first-class jerk. Even if I went back and deleted the scene, I'd still know what he was capable of. (It seems I have a "no take backs" approach to my characters.)
So I did what any overly emotional, sleep-deprived writer would do: I broke up with him. And in doing so, I kind of broke up with my novel, too. This started having all kinds of adverse affects on my life. I lay awake at night, puzzling over how my good guy went so bad. I couldn't get to work in the morning for all my distracted agonizing over what to do. I was getting out of the shower with shampoo in my hair, leaving the house in my slippers, and dazedly driving to the grocery store instead of to the office. My character was everywhere, begging to be heard, asking to be redeemed. My word count was getting further behind with each passing day, and I was well on my way to being haunted by an imaginary being. But he didn't feel so imaginary; I'd brought the story to life, and those characters, and that world. It was just dangling there in limbo, derailing my focus and turning me into a bit of a loony.
Though I still had no fix in mind and was far from forgiving his behavior, I returned to the scene of my character's crime and gave him a second chance. And you know, the apology that poured forth was fairly epic. His girlfriend forgave him. It was so good that even I forgave him. In fact, this foray into his dark side has done some really great things for the depth of his character. He is less jerk and more badass. The novel has righted itself and everyone seems back on track for the rest of the story to unfold.
In this coming week, if you find yourself mired in a dead end, bored stiff by your protagonist's lackluster performance, or generally feeling that your plot is tripe, don't despair; you actually have the answer. Don't do what I did and shelve your novel. You'll probably go nuts. And you'll have to live with the knowledge that there is a half-dead story out there, haunting you with its zombie characters and shadowy half-world, just waiting for your pen stroke to set it straight. Because that's all it takes: returning to the wreckage and committing yourself anew to the phoenix-like resilience of this world you're writing.
I'll see you at 50K!
Okay getting back to it
Lindsey
44572 / 50000 words. 89% done!
still this nano felt different. It felt like the first time. Until the Ice Melts and Beneath the Torn Sky have something in common. They wrote themselves in a linear fashion and easily. I really haven't had to wrestle with them. My first and my current are coming out of this the closest I've ever had to having a working novel. Now Splinters of Cold Iron and Silver is working its way there now too but the other two may never become more than a shell. I think Placid et al will have a lot to say once nano dies away.
There were actually THREE pep talks this week instead of two but I'm not including them all. One was by an author who had been on my flist but her extreme politics made me back away in a hurry. Also, her talk was just bewildering and not too helpful so here are the two I liked.
Greetings, fellow novelists!
So, now that you've been writing for a few weeks, here's my question. Have you started to realize what you've gotten yourself into? Is the realization accompanied by a creeping sense of panic?
If your answer is no, rock on. But if your answer is yes—if your novel has gotten more complicated than you ever thought it would—if you're not sure you've got what it takes to pull this project off—then I'm here for you today with a message, and the message is: don't panic. Don't panic! No one would ever do anything great if they knew at the outset what they were getting themselves into. And I happen to know, at the core of my soul, that you can do this. How do I know? Because I've been there, many times. Sometimes it feels like my permanent state of being. And you know what? I've learned that I'm capable of a lot more than I generally think I am—and you are, too.
A lot of people who don't write novels don't really understand what it's like. They think that something easy to read must have been easy to write. What a lark! How fun to just let your imagination run wild and jot down stories all day!
I suppose there's nothing wrong with these people. Doubtless, there are thousands of occupations I don't appreciate the complexity of. For example, doesn't it seem like it would be fun to be the weatherman? But, then, everybody expects you to predict unpredictable events, and when you get it wrong, everyone thinks you're a bozo. Plus, you probably have to sit still in a chair for ages every day while people do your makeup and spray smelly things into your hair.
Here's what it starts to be like for me somewhere in the midsection of a novel:
(1) I've written the beginning, but I'm pretty sure it's a pile of crap.
(2) The end, when I even dare to contemplate it, feels as far away as Uranus.
(3) The prose I'm writing right now, here in the middle, sounds like a stiff little busybody who's sat down too hard on a nettle.
(4) I've discovered that my plot, even if it's an engaging plot, has sections that are not engaging to write, and I'm bogged down in those doldrums sections, when all I want is to move on to the exciting parts that are just ahead —but I can't, not until I've written the parts that will get me there. Boring!
(5) The house is strewn with post-it notes on which are written about a gazillion important reminders of things I must somehow remember to find a way to weave into the novel at some point, although, where, I can't imagine. Some of the post-it notes are written hastily in a code I have since forgotten. ("He is temperamentally sweet, but dangerous, like Jake." That would be very helpful, if I had the slightest idea to whom "he" refers, or if I knew anyone named Jake.)
(6) Worst of all, whenever I take a step back and try to examine objectively this unstructured mess that is half created and half still living in my head and heart and hope (and on a gazillion post-it notes)... I get this horrible, sinking feeling that my novel isn't actually about anything.
Does any of that sound familiar to you?
Listen. Learning to write 50,000 words means learning a whole pile of skills, but they're learnable skills, and you learn them by writing. One of those skills is finding your own technique for dealing with all the voices that are constantly telling you, in one way or another, what a bonehead you are and how bad you are at this and how doomed your project is. I'm not saying don't listen to the voices. Go ahead and listen to them— if you try to ignore them, sometimes they only scream louder. I'm only saying, don't believe them— and, most importantly, don't let them decide how you spend your day. Maybe laugh and give them a hug and say to them, "Yes, you're sad and lonely and desperate for my attention, aren't you? Well, thank you for visiting; stay as long as you need to; but, by the way, I think we're going to have to agree to disagree. Because I know I can do this, and, as it happens, you can't stop me. Want to sit with me at my desk while I show you what I mean?"
Self-doubt and fear are just part of the process. Those voices are never going to go away. Write anyway. Take a breath; go for a walk; look at the stars; listen to OutKast and shake it like a Polaroid picture; and then, sit down and write anyway. Incidentally, I think the fastest I've ever written 50,000 words was in about eight months. I don't actually keep track of word count, I just keep track of whether or not I'm making progress, and I think that's what NaNoWriMo is about: getting into the habit of making progress. And progress is something every writer needs to define for him- or herself. Throwing out the last twenty pages you just wrote can involve just as much progress as writing three new ones. So try not to beat yourself up if your novel makes it clear to you that you're going to have to shift your goals.
Breathe. Be kind to yourself. Don't panic. Take risks. Make messes. Decide every day that in your writing toolbox, next to the fear and self-doubt, you are also going to keep at least one tiny little seed of faith. That's all you need to keep going—one mustard seed. Keep tight hold on that faith, and keep writing.
-Kristin Cashore
Lindsey here, Community Liaison for NaNoWriMo.
Last week the love interest in my novel did something kind of abhorrent. He drugged the neighbor's dog and blamed it on his girlfriend. I couldn't believe he did that! It was a completely unauthorized move. But once it was done, there was no undoing it. All the things I had planned for him to do and say in upcoming scenes were all wrong—suddenly my knight was a first-class jerk. Even if I went back and deleted the scene, I'd still know what he was capable of. (It seems I have a "no take backs" approach to my characters.)
So I did what any overly emotional, sleep-deprived writer would do: I broke up with him. And in doing so, I kind of broke up with my novel, too. This started having all kinds of adverse affects on my life. I lay awake at night, puzzling over how my good guy went so bad. I couldn't get to work in the morning for all my distracted agonizing over what to do. I was getting out of the shower with shampoo in my hair, leaving the house in my slippers, and dazedly driving to the grocery store instead of to the office. My character was everywhere, begging to be heard, asking to be redeemed. My word count was getting further behind with each passing day, and I was well on my way to being haunted by an imaginary being. But he didn't feel so imaginary; I'd brought the story to life, and those characters, and that world. It was just dangling there in limbo, derailing my focus and turning me into a bit of a loony.
Though I still had no fix in mind and was far from forgiving his behavior, I returned to the scene of my character's crime and gave him a second chance. And you know, the apology that poured forth was fairly epic. His girlfriend forgave him. It was so good that even I forgave him. In fact, this foray into his dark side has done some really great things for the depth of his character. He is less jerk and more badass. The novel has righted itself and everyone seems back on track for the rest of the story to unfold.
In this coming week, if you find yourself mired in a dead end, bored stiff by your protagonist's lackluster performance, or generally feeling that your plot is tripe, don't despair; you actually have the answer. Don't do what I did and shelve your novel. You'll probably go nuts. And you'll have to live with the knowledge that there is a half-dead story out there, haunting you with its zombie characters and shadowy half-world, just waiting for your pen stroke to set it straight. Because that's all it takes: returning to the wreckage and committing yourself anew to the phoenix-like resilience of this world you're writing.
I'll see you at 50K!
Okay getting back to it
Lindsey
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no subject
Date: 2009-11-22 10:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-22 10:59 pm (UTC)and that reminds me I need to go read your long wip. I keep meaning to and I forget. I'm bad.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-22 11:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-23 02:01 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-30 10:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-30 10:19 pm (UTC)And welcome back