The most common narrative conflict we see in fiction today is what is know as Person Vs. Person. You have your protagonist working with/against your antagonist and the two play off one another creating the narrative conflict throughout the arc. This generally ends with one or more deaths/incarcerations what have you.
But there are other forms of narrative conflict that don't involve an antagonist.
There's the old standby Person Vs. Nature, which is generally exemplified by books like Hatchet and short stories like To Start a Fire (which I read in Middle-School and still haunts me to this day). For those of you not familiar with the term. It's generally a protagonist thrown up against the elements. So a blizzard or a scorching desert. It's a person vs. the jaguar stalking them through the night. (Though there are personified examples of person vs. animal where the animal definitely feels like a definitive antagonist).
We also have Person Vs. Self, Person Vs. Society, and others. They important thing is that it's a protagonist thrown up against something/someone. So, to simplify this:
Conflict = the Protagonist VS. Something/Someone
That's it. That's conflict. Now, the truth is, not all fiction utilizes the antagonist as a person or a beast, or monster. Some fiction works quite well without an antagonist. It utilizes some other sort of conflict to get the job done.
I tend to steer away from centralized antagonists in my work. Not consciously, mind you. While my stories do tend to have a villain, that character may not actually be the antagonist of the story or they may not have much of a presence within the story. There's nothing precisely wrong with that. There are going to be misdirects, on occasion, when it comes to identifying the root of your story's conflict.
A trilogy I was working on last year had elements of different narrative conflicts with no unifying antagonist, and I was having some trouble sorting out why, as I'd plotted the damn things. It only later occurred to me while writing book three, that the antagonist had been a steady presence all along. I just hadn't put two and two together. Now, that said, that still wasn't the driving conflict.
The best example of another author who does what I call an "ephemeral antagonist" is JK Rowling with Voldemort. He is a felt presence throughout the series. His agents are everywhere, his name on the lips of those still around convinced he's gone for good. He's a cloud over the proceedings. No one can deny he's the series antagonist, but conflict isn't always driven by his hand directly. It's generally a consequence of his presence, but not necessarily because of direct actions he may have taken.
I generally feel that antagonists can be the "Man behind the curtain". Pulling strings, always present, but on screen for a short amount of time while still maintaining maximum impact. Because of this, conflict tends to feel more self-driven on the part of the protagonist. You can get away with false leads and even pseudo-antagonists that mask your main villain's purpose. It's not just about conflict driving the story at this point.
We talk about plot driven stories VS. character driven stories frequently, and we should. But you also need to ask yourself, what kind of conflict is driving this story? The underlying thread should remain the same through the story and it should boil down to a single concept.
If I boiled down that trilogy I talked about earlier, it'd be pretty simple. The protagonist really just wants her father to be proud of her. That's her overriding desire, the conflict is that he's dead and that's never going to happen so she keeps striving higher and higher. The other conflicts are secondary to that goal. So the conflict at the center of it, is not with the antagonist really, but with Self. This is a common thing to see within YA narratives really, as they tend to be about Growth regardless of genre. So while you may have these characters going through all of these things, their core conflict is going to be Self and on occasion Society with villains thrown in to give you something to focus rage on.
Figure out what your core conflict is, that thing driving you character forward, and then build your narrative arc from that. This is why many people will tell you to start your story near or at your inciting incident, as this is what the conflict comes from. It's going to inform everything else that happens, and will be reflected in the ending of the book. If you can do that, your resolution is going to feel a lot stronger, more earned.
Don't be afraid of not having an personified antagonist in your story. Not every story is going to have a mustache-twirling villain to focus on. Sometimes, it's just the wind howling outside the window. It's the crushing weight of an immovable force. Conflict is core to narrative. So if you're struggling with your story, go back to the conflict.
Showing posts with label writing advice. Show all posts
Showing posts with label writing advice. Show all posts
Friday, May 19, 2017
Sunday, February 19, 2017
Show and Tell
I'm going to go out on a limb here and say that the first piece of writing advice most of us have ever gotten was that grand chestnut, "Show, don't tell." It's repeated in near constant refrain and here's the thing: It's only half-right.
This particular piece of advice crops up for two reasons. One, it's an easy shorthand for describing a pretty common problem and two, it's easy to remember.
But writing is not that simple. The advice is well-intentioned, but it has an inherent flaw. That is, that one is always supposed to show and never tell. And that's simply not true. There is a balancing act between show and tell. Show too much and prose drags, your pacing slows and readers can get...bored. Tell too much and the story move too fast, there's nothing there to stick to the ribs.
You can't take the advice as gospel but merely as a reminder to be more conscious. There is a time for you to show the moonlight streaming through the window and a time for you to say, the moon is full. (80% of the time I see people touting this bit of advice, they use that "moon glinting" quote. Like...all the time.)
Different genres have different linguistic styles. Different authors will have different styles within those genres. I write MG differently from YA and Adult and I certainly write historical differently from contemporary.
There's another term you may have heard through the years, purple prose. This is, in my opinion, showing gone wild. It's elaborate, extravagant, over the top. It's taking a page and a half to describe a picnic table before finally telling me that the table is on fire. It's saying a thousand things, burying the really important things in the morass of your descriptions.
When description begins to interfere with pacing, you know there's a problem and when your pacing is moving too quickly, you know you have room for description.
I know that seems ridiculously simplistic, but it is that simple. So here it is again.
If the pace of your story is moving too quickly, you need to add description.
If the pace of your story is moving too slowly, you need to cut description.
Or, to put it another way.
If the story is moving too fast, stop and show.
If the story is moving too slow, start telling.
That's it. That's the big secret. You know what else can speed up or slow down a story? Dialogue. But it still comes down to how you're writing that dialogue. Is it descriptive or is it pointed? Is it between two people or six? Complex ideas, complex sentences, they slow down the reader. Short sentences are fast.
And it all goes back to show vs. tell. This craft of ours has a thousand nuances. You can learn every rule, every word and piece of punctuation and you still won't have mastered the craft. Because the greater part of mastering this craft is finding your voice. Voice is a mixture of show and tell. It's your personal recipe of mannerisms and broken rules, how you show and how you tell that combines to create your voice.
Finding that balance, that recipe, is hard. It can be even harder when you're being torn in a thousand directions. When you're being told that there is the one true way and your way doesn't match. There is no one true way to write. There are elements. There are rules. And you have to decide if you're going to incorporate them, follow them--or not. Keep writing. Find your own way. Find your way.
Show and tell.
This particular piece of advice crops up for two reasons. One, it's an easy shorthand for describing a pretty common problem and two, it's easy to remember.
But writing is not that simple. The advice is well-intentioned, but it has an inherent flaw. That is, that one is always supposed to show and never tell. And that's simply not true. There is a balancing act between show and tell. Show too much and prose drags, your pacing slows and readers can get...bored. Tell too much and the story move too fast, there's nothing there to stick to the ribs.
You can't take the advice as gospel but merely as a reminder to be more conscious. There is a time for you to show the moonlight streaming through the window and a time for you to say, the moon is full. (80% of the time I see people touting this bit of advice, they use that "moon glinting" quote. Like...all the time.)
Different genres have different linguistic styles. Different authors will have different styles within those genres. I write MG differently from YA and Adult and I certainly write historical differently from contemporary.
There's another term you may have heard through the years, purple prose. This is, in my opinion, showing gone wild. It's elaborate, extravagant, over the top. It's taking a page and a half to describe a picnic table before finally telling me that the table is on fire. It's saying a thousand things, burying the really important things in the morass of your descriptions.
When description begins to interfere with pacing, you know there's a problem and when your pacing is moving too quickly, you know you have room for description.
I know that seems ridiculously simplistic, but it is that simple. So here it is again.
If the pace of your story is moving too quickly, you need to add description.
If the pace of your story is moving too slowly, you need to cut description.
Or, to put it another way.
If the story is moving too fast, stop and show.
If the story is moving too slow, start telling.
That's it. That's the big secret. You know what else can speed up or slow down a story? Dialogue. But it still comes down to how you're writing that dialogue. Is it descriptive or is it pointed? Is it between two people or six? Complex ideas, complex sentences, they slow down the reader. Short sentences are fast.
And it all goes back to show vs. tell. This craft of ours has a thousand nuances. You can learn every rule, every word and piece of punctuation and you still won't have mastered the craft. Because the greater part of mastering this craft is finding your voice. Voice is a mixture of show and tell. It's your personal recipe of mannerisms and broken rules, how you show and how you tell that combines to create your voice.
Finding that balance, that recipe, is hard. It can be even harder when you're being torn in a thousand directions. When you're being told that there is the one true way and your way doesn't match. There is no one true way to write. There are elements. There are rules. And you have to decide if you're going to incorporate them, follow them--or not. Keep writing. Find your own way. Find your way.
Show and tell.
Wednesday, August 24, 2016
On Major Revisions
To start, I'm going to talk about a novel I wrote in college. It was experimental and told from multiple first-person POVS, twelve, actually, if I'm remembering correctly.
Yes, I said twelve. What I was aiming for was a story told patchwork, the heart of which remained the same while the rotation of narration deepened the understanding the reader had for the events, the city and the continual refrain that everything and everyone was connected. It was also high fantasy, starred a central POV and the other players were all tangential to this singular focus, adding to the whole.
It was ambitious, slightly insane and completely unsalable. My lit. department professor who was overseeing the project (Independent Study because I'd taken every single other writing course our college offered. All of them.) compared me to Cormac McCarthy in tone. I furrowed my brow in confusion, having never read the man's work (and still haven't) and moved on. This book, and all of it's madness, sat in a drawer resigned to obscurity.
One day I was bored and feeling masochistic, so I pulled this story back out and started to look at it. I could still feel what I'd felt when I started working on it and I still wanted that overarching concept of everything is connected, to move you through the book. So, I put on my writer hat and I rewrote it completely into omniscient third. This entailed some straight up retyping of whole chapters (which helped revise them anyhow), some find/replace on the word "I" and an overhaul of the ending, lengthening of the first act and changes to character's fates.
It was painful, tedious, work. But I could not be more happy that I did it. A more recent novel, (which I talk about more extensively here) has gone through stages. My very first draft, at the tender age of sixteen, was in third person. The revision later was in third and the revision after that was multiple first. Oddly, the format stuck on this project. There's a single "strong" central POV and the others rotate around that one in a set pattern that focuses on deepening your understanding of the events, highlighting the differences between worlds and more importantly, giving a greater focus on the main character.
That was the goal, in any case. I had major revisions on that novel at least three times. I cut entire chapters this last time around (and it's still longer than it was when I started), changed a character's gender (oddly, this was the least difficult change to make) and literally had to print out the entire book, part it out by scenes and rearrange the entire timeline.
These kind of revisions can seem incredibly daunting. I know, I've been there. But the important thing to remember going in to major revisions is:
Yes, I said twelve. What I was aiming for was a story told patchwork, the heart of which remained the same while the rotation of narration deepened the understanding the reader had for the events, the city and the continual refrain that everything and everyone was connected. It was also high fantasy, starred a central POV and the other players were all tangential to this singular focus, adding to the whole.
It was ambitious, slightly insane and completely unsalable. My lit. department professor who was overseeing the project (Independent Study because I'd taken every single other writing course our college offered. All of them.) compared me to Cormac McCarthy in tone. I furrowed my brow in confusion, having never read the man's work (and still haven't) and moved on. This book, and all of it's madness, sat in a drawer resigned to obscurity.
One day I was bored and feeling masochistic, so I pulled this story back out and started to look at it. I could still feel what I'd felt when I started working on it and I still wanted that overarching concept of everything is connected, to move you through the book. So, I put on my writer hat and I rewrote it completely into omniscient third. This entailed some straight up retyping of whole chapters (which helped revise them anyhow), some find/replace on the word "I" and an overhaul of the ending, lengthening of the first act and changes to character's fates.
It was painful, tedious, work. But I could not be more happy that I did it. A more recent novel, (which I talk about more extensively here) has gone through stages. My very first draft, at the tender age of sixteen, was in third person. The revision later was in third and the revision after that was multiple first. Oddly, the format stuck on this project. There's a single "strong" central POV and the others rotate around that one in a set pattern that focuses on deepening your understanding of the events, highlighting the differences between worlds and more importantly, giving a greater focus on the main character.
That was the goal, in any case. I had major revisions on that novel at least three times. I cut entire chapters this last time around (and it's still longer than it was when I started), changed a character's gender (oddly, this was the least difficult change to make) and literally had to print out the entire book, part it out by scenes and rearrange the entire timeline.
These kind of revisions can seem incredibly daunting. I know, I've been there. But the important thing to remember going in to major revisions is:
Have a plan.
This is usually called a "Revision Plan", easy enough to remember. Before I started chopping, changing and so forth and first had to know where the hell I was going. I mean, you don't start driving without knowing where you're going, do you? Well, you might, but not in this instance. Your revision plan is your road map. A guide to show you where to go. I could continue with this, but I think you get the drift.
How do I know where I'm going?
This is where CP's, beta readers and your helpful neighborhood Batman...writer friends, come in handy. It can be difficult to judge something you've gotten close to, and I had the good fortune of having let both of the books referenced sit for a few years before I took another look at them. This let me look at them with less bias. More of a reader/editor perspective. I was able to get a better picture of what was wrong because I was no longer so close.
If you are still close, you're going to need an outside perspective. Take your notes/their notes, compile them and start making a list of the things that will need changed. I usually put my revision plan in my document at the end, and then reference it as I go, but it can be a separate document, a notebook, on a whiteboard over your desk, pinned to the wall--whatever and wherever best suited to you.
This is not a sprint.
Revisions aren't even a marathon, they're a decathlon. Revisions require you to utilize all of your skills in order to finish. Pace yourself, have your CP/reader/kidnapped friend read your chapters, scenes, etcetera along the way. It's important to check in, make sure you're still headed in the right direction. Think of your CP as the robotic GPS voice, gently and loudly reminding you to turn left.
And then, when you forget, giving you an alternate route.
It's scary sometimes. You might feel like you're in over your head. Like the book is going to consume your soul and sell you off to the elder gods, but that's why writers work best with community. Take a break from the book. Take whatever time you need to get through the process, and that end, celebrate the fact that you have a book that's so much stronger than it was before.
Wednesday, August 17, 2016
What the Heck is a Series Bible?
Nothing like starting on book two of your freshly minted series only to end up in a hail of uncertainty as you dig through your previous book for information you swear was in there. Like, for instance, what color so and so's eyes were.
No one wants that. "What can I do to prevent that fate?"
Well, I'll tell you, you can start working on a series bible! IE, a document that contains all of your cannonical information in one place, organized and accessible.
Everyone has their own way of organizing information, obviously, but here are some pretty easy tips to follow. Obviously, you can use the word processor of your choice, and for those of you with a love of spreadsheets--have at. (I am not one of them).
I usually start mine with character information. I use bolded headings and easy searchable terms.
So, for example:
Jane Smith ALIASES:
BORN:
MOTHER:
FATHER:
AGE AT BOOK 1
BASIC DESCRIPTION (eye color, hair color, height, figure, etc): Broken down by appearances, age, etc.
OBJECTS ALWAYS ON PERSON:
Characters are listed under headings like MC, REGULAR CAST, MINOR CHARACTERS, FRIENDS, ANTAGONIST, PETS, etc.
I try to note relationships as they relate to my MC as well as interior relationships, secrets and the like.
After character information, I include a timeline. Timelines are essential. I find myself constantly asking "When did that take place again? What year was it? What month? What time of year?" It's so much easier to be able to scroll through a timeline.
Mine are set up generally like this:
TIMELINE
YEAR : BOOK - MONTH, SPECIFIC DATES (IF ANY)
I generally keep all of my plotting details in the timeline, as it keeps those details organized. So, for instance, if I'm planning to reveal someone's parentage in book six, I can drop that in the timeline. I can also then go back in and determine where foreshadowing elements need to go. Book titles, as I come up with tentative ones, also go in here.
This basic timeline is of course separate from a more intensive timeline I sometimes work up for individual manuscripts. I generally only need one when I have a lot of traveling going on and am working over a long period of time.
I also keep my synopses, query letters, pitches and the like in this document (organized by title), or at the very least, in the same folder with this document. Character reference images and the like could also be placed in a separate folder within the folder (I like keeping things sorted to the nth).
The important thing to remember is to continue to update this document when editing your manuscripts. A series bible won't help you at all if it's two drafts out of date. No one person is going to need the same information in their bible, but this should at least give you a good place to start. Just remember, compile now, save yourself heartache later.
Trust me on that.
No one wants that. "What can I do to prevent that fate?"
Well, I'll tell you, you can start working on a series bible! IE, a document that contains all of your cannonical information in one place, organized and accessible.
Everyone has their own way of organizing information, obviously, but here are some pretty easy tips to follow. Obviously, you can use the word processor of your choice, and for those of you with a love of spreadsheets--have at. (I am not one of them).
I usually start mine with character information. I use bolded headings and easy searchable terms.
So, for example:
Jane Smith ALIASES:
BORN:
MOTHER:
FATHER:
AGE AT BOOK 1
BASIC DESCRIPTION (eye color, hair color, height, figure, etc): Broken down by appearances, age, etc.
OBJECTS ALWAYS ON PERSON:
Characters are listed under headings like MC, REGULAR CAST, MINOR CHARACTERS, FRIENDS, ANTAGONIST, PETS, etc.
I try to note relationships as they relate to my MC as well as interior relationships, secrets and the like.
 |
| Here's part of Liadan's Series Bible (with plot relevant details redacted) |
After character information, I include a timeline. Timelines are essential. I find myself constantly asking "When did that take place again? What year was it? What month? What time of year?" It's so much easier to be able to scroll through a timeline.
Mine are set up generally like this:
TIMELINE
YEAR : BOOK - MONTH, SPECIFIC DATES (IF ANY)
I generally keep all of my plotting details in the timeline, as it keeps those details organized. So, for instance, if I'm planning to reveal someone's parentage in book six, I can drop that in the timeline. I can also then go back in and determine where foreshadowing elements need to go. Book titles, as I come up with tentative ones, also go in here.
This basic timeline is of course separate from a more intensive timeline I sometimes work up for individual manuscripts. I generally only need one when I have a lot of traveling going on and am working over a long period of time.
I also keep my synopses, query letters, pitches and the like in this document (organized by title), or at the very least, in the same folder with this document. Character reference images and the like could also be placed in a separate folder within the folder (I like keeping things sorted to the nth).
The important thing to remember is to continue to update this document when editing your manuscripts. A series bible won't help you at all if it's two drafts out of date. No one person is going to need the same information in their bible, but this should at least give you a good place to start. Just remember, compile now, save yourself heartache later.
Trust me on that.
Monday, August 15, 2016
On Atmosphere II
I realized I actually wanted to expand on my post about atmosphere so...here goes. Part two!
So, I showed you some examples of building atmosphere in my first post, but let's break that down a bit further. I'm going to show you the same kind of setting with different atmospheres. Given the time of year, let's go with "School" as a springboard, shall we?
I.
For every click of my heel against the cracked linoleum, I could feel what was left of my summer spirit slipping away. The buzzing of the soul-sucking fluorescents set a low level headache beating away behind my eyeballs. It was the same old hallway, in spite of my upgrade to Sophomore, and it would be the same old, dirty, hallway until the school burned down or I managed to graduate in three years.
I could feel flame itching at my fingertips just at the thought.
II.
The pounding, torrential drumbeat on the classroom roof should have made me drowsy, but it was hard to fall asleep in Mr. Brooke's class. Every gesture, every excited scramble of chalk to board was full of frenetic energy. His vibrant blue shirt struck out from the green blackboard, chalk smeared on the rolled up cuffs. If anything, the rain added to the urgency of the lesson. Driving it forward with it's steady patter. I'd been worried at first that taking Advanced Maths would be a mistake, but Mr. Brooke's always made me feel on the cusp of discovery. He made me feel smart.
III.
It was with some small embarrassment that I plucked my teacup from the air where I'd left it. I'd not considered the levitation would last quite so long. In spite of this error, Professor Rawley seemed suitably impressed with my progress. I had not, at least, lost my touch over the summer break. I had been quite worried that I might. It was one thing, after all, to practice my skills in the safe harbor that was Last Star Academy and entirely another to practice where mortals might see me. Really, I would have to attend summer camp next year. It was far too long to go between practice.
I captured a bit of sunbeam to read by later (far better than a candle for under the covers) and finished packing up my things just as the bell tolled for tea.
______________________________
Okay. So, obviously there are more differences between these pieces than simply atmosphere. It's pretty clear that they're genres and voice are different as well. I tried to stay within the same YA range, however, to make it easier to show you the differences.
Our first one uses phrases like, cracked, soul-sucking, dirty, etc. Which tells you right off that the character is moody, dislikes school and also sets up this very clear picture of a dingy, older school building that hasn't quite been cared for properly. In a brief set up, you know what this place looks like, what it feels like. You know what it sounds like. I find that adding in one or two senses in the initial set up really helps sell your atmosphere.
I used sound in the second one as well, but in a different fashion. This one is more upbeat, with bright color and words like vibrant and frenetic, highlighting the character's feelings. While there aren't many details about the room itself, you at least get the feeling of the room. The character feels happy, safe.
The last example is pretty obviously some kind of magic school. It's also a bit more upbeat, and again, while there is little description of the room itself, it's not entirely required to set the mood. This comes off as a more lighthearted character, and a brighter outlook and mood overall.
The other thing you should notice is sentence length. Pacing. The speed of your story is going to change the mood too. Overall, when it comes to the mood, the atmosphere of your story, this is really where all of your different skills come together. You have to understand how each story element works in order to properly set the mood. Word choice, tone, pacing, voice, character...it all feeds back into the atmosphere. Every word you write will feed back into atmosphere.
But getting it right? Definitely worth it.
So, I showed you some examples of building atmosphere in my first post, but let's break that down a bit further. I'm going to show you the same kind of setting with different atmospheres. Given the time of year, let's go with "School" as a springboard, shall we?
I.
For every click of my heel against the cracked linoleum, I could feel what was left of my summer spirit slipping away. The buzzing of the soul-sucking fluorescents set a low level headache beating away behind my eyeballs. It was the same old hallway, in spite of my upgrade to Sophomore, and it would be the same old, dirty, hallway until the school burned down or I managed to graduate in three years.
I could feel flame itching at my fingertips just at the thought.
II.
The pounding, torrential drumbeat on the classroom roof should have made me drowsy, but it was hard to fall asleep in Mr. Brooke's class. Every gesture, every excited scramble of chalk to board was full of frenetic energy. His vibrant blue shirt struck out from the green blackboard, chalk smeared on the rolled up cuffs. If anything, the rain added to the urgency of the lesson. Driving it forward with it's steady patter. I'd been worried at first that taking Advanced Maths would be a mistake, but Mr. Brooke's always made me feel on the cusp of discovery. He made me feel smart.
III.
It was with some small embarrassment that I plucked my teacup from the air where I'd left it. I'd not considered the levitation would last quite so long. In spite of this error, Professor Rawley seemed suitably impressed with my progress. I had not, at least, lost my touch over the summer break. I had been quite worried that I might. It was one thing, after all, to practice my skills in the safe harbor that was Last Star Academy and entirely another to practice where mortals might see me. Really, I would have to attend summer camp next year. It was far too long to go between practice.
I captured a bit of sunbeam to read by later (far better than a candle for under the covers) and finished packing up my things just as the bell tolled for tea.
______________________________
Okay. So, obviously there are more differences between these pieces than simply atmosphere. It's pretty clear that they're genres and voice are different as well. I tried to stay within the same YA range, however, to make it easier to show you the differences.
Our first one uses phrases like, cracked, soul-sucking, dirty, etc. Which tells you right off that the character is moody, dislikes school and also sets up this very clear picture of a dingy, older school building that hasn't quite been cared for properly. In a brief set up, you know what this place looks like, what it feels like. You know what it sounds like. I find that adding in one or two senses in the initial set up really helps sell your atmosphere.
I used sound in the second one as well, but in a different fashion. This one is more upbeat, with bright color and words like vibrant and frenetic, highlighting the character's feelings. While there aren't many details about the room itself, you at least get the feeling of the room. The character feels happy, safe.
The last example is pretty obviously some kind of magic school. It's also a bit more upbeat, and again, while there is little description of the room itself, it's not entirely required to set the mood. This comes off as a more lighthearted character, and a brighter outlook and mood overall.
The other thing you should notice is sentence length. Pacing. The speed of your story is going to change the mood too. Overall, when it comes to the mood, the atmosphere of your story, this is really where all of your different skills come together. You have to understand how each story element works in order to properly set the mood. Word choice, tone, pacing, voice, character...it all feeds back into the atmosphere. Every word you write will feed back into atmosphere.
But getting it right? Definitely worth it.
Sunday, July 10, 2016
On Under-Writing VS. Over-Writing
You know what advice you get every time you start edits on your novel? It's CUT. Cut this. Cut that. Cut had. (Some of these are generally true, like seriously go through and cut every other that, you probably don't need them.) But for those of us who start with bones and work outward, this advice is more often than not--wrong.
In a world that seems full of advice for those that over-write, those that pound out 100K word-plus first drafts and then trim, squeeze and massage their books into a shape that makes the most sense, the under-writers are left feeling a bit out of place.
I didn't even know there was a word for the way I wrote until a week ago when a writer friend pounced on me and said, "I just read this article about the difference between under-writers and over-writers."
It was like a lightbulb went off. I understood why so much of the editing advice I'd seen just didn't jive with the way I wrote.
Because I am not an over-writer. I do not start with hundreds of thousands of words. My first drafts are short. Lean. Sparse. Like a desert spotted with small oasis of information. The advice, while good for those who do write that way, doesn't work for me.
I was left constantly thinking I was somehow doing it wrong. That my method of writing, the thing that worked for me, was wrong. Eventually I just stopped caring about that and found my own ways of working through the editing problems an under-writer faces with their manuscripts. I would go through my drafts, flagging scenes that needed development, and sure, there were generally some cuts made but when I write a second draft, for every 500 words I cut, I usually add in another 1500 or more.
One good example of this is the first draft I wrote of my most recent WIP, Bloodlines. That first draft was 40,000 words. Done. Dead. The new draft, with savage cuts, changes and alterations? 85,000 words. This is a pattern I've repeated with nearly every book I've ever written. Drastically short initial drafts that then fill in as work through the edits.
And it's not a wrong way to work, it's just a different way to work. For me, the idea of writing down hundreds of thousands of words, knowing that I'll be cutting half, seemed--odd. Not right. Because it wasn't right for me. My first drafts are bones. The skeleton the story stands on. Edits are the part where I start adding in meat and flesh (to continue this rather macabre comparison), painting in the finer details. For those of you out there that are like me, those of you who don't over-write, there's nothing wrong with working this way.
Yes, there will be things you cut. Yes, there will be things you change. But your end word count should be higher at the end of the draft than it was when you started, not lower.
Another example would be this book I wrote that, for the first time ever in a first draft, broke 100K words. I was shocked. Confused.
And then I realized, it's two books. Not one. TWO. I broke it apart, rewrote both drafts and was left with book one at 73K and the other at 84K. I believe one started at somewhere around 60K and the other around 40K. I added, I cut, I prodded, poked and finagled. But the massive cuts you generally see advised never happened.
Whatever way you write, if it works for you, keep doing it. And if you, like me, are an under-writer, you are not alone. You aren't writing the wrong way. You're just, different.
In a world that seems full of advice for those that over-write, those that pound out 100K word-plus first drafts and then trim, squeeze and massage their books into a shape that makes the most sense, the under-writers are left feeling a bit out of place.
I didn't even know there was a word for the way I wrote until a week ago when a writer friend pounced on me and said, "I just read this article about the difference between under-writers and over-writers."
It was like a lightbulb went off. I understood why so much of the editing advice I'd seen just didn't jive with the way I wrote.
Because I am not an over-writer. I do not start with hundreds of thousands of words. My first drafts are short. Lean. Sparse. Like a desert spotted with small oasis of information. The advice, while good for those who do write that way, doesn't work for me.
I was left constantly thinking I was somehow doing it wrong. That my method of writing, the thing that worked for me, was wrong. Eventually I just stopped caring about that and found my own ways of working through the editing problems an under-writer faces with their manuscripts. I would go through my drafts, flagging scenes that needed development, and sure, there were generally some cuts made but when I write a second draft, for every 500 words I cut, I usually add in another 1500 or more.
One good example of this is the first draft I wrote of my most recent WIP, Bloodlines. That first draft was 40,000 words. Done. Dead. The new draft, with savage cuts, changes and alterations? 85,000 words. This is a pattern I've repeated with nearly every book I've ever written. Drastically short initial drafts that then fill in as work through the edits.
And it's not a wrong way to work, it's just a different way to work. For me, the idea of writing down hundreds of thousands of words, knowing that I'll be cutting half, seemed--odd. Not right. Because it wasn't right for me. My first drafts are bones. The skeleton the story stands on. Edits are the part where I start adding in meat and flesh (to continue this rather macabre comparison), painting in the finer details. For those of you out there that are like me, those of you who don't over-write, there's nothing wrong with working this way.
Yes, there will be things you cut. Yes, there will be things you change. But your end word count should be higher at the end of the draft than it was when you started, not lower.
Another example would be this book I wrote that, for the first time ever in a first draft, broke 100K words. I was shocked. Confused.
And then I realized, it's two books. Not one. TWO. I broke it apart, rewrote both drafts and was left with book one at 73K and the other at 84K. I believe one started at somewhere around 60K and the other around 40K. I added, I cut, I prodded, poked and finagled. But the massive cuts you generally see advised never happened.
Whatever way you write, if it works for you, keep doing it. And if you, like me, are an under-writer, you are not alone. You aren't writing the wrong way. You're just, different.
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