Tuesday, April 09, 2013

I Dared Myself to Write a Story on Line!


Reprinted from FFC archives June 1, 2009

My favorite part of Malcolm Gladwell's book Outliers is his theory that it takes 10,000 hours to become an expert.  I feel validation for one of my long-held beliefs: writing--good writing--is all about the seat of the pants in the seat of the chair. Mrs. Hawkins, my creative writing teacher in high school, insisted this simple act was the golden ticket to quality. I believed her then; I believe her now.   I just didn’t manage to do it for a long, long time. 

Ron Carlson's book, Ron Carlson Writes a Story, offers another piece of the puzzle: how process, the act of “ just doing,” eventually leads to product. Carlson shows us what he means by letting us sit on his shoulder as he puts together his story. He maintains that working through a story one sentence at a time, putting down what you know about the story rather than worrying about what you don’t, is a viable path.

When a friend shared with me that she's decided the best way for her to work is to sit down and "let it  happen,"  it resonated. This is exactly what Carlson does. He says "process" is the key, finding your own way to get words on the page.   Here's the way I do it.

1. I type or hand write everything I know about the idea that’s been growing in my head.  

Are characters clear, defined, and have their own problems and attitudes? Are they in opposition with each other? Do they fulfill a purpose in the story? What is each one's purpose?  
Does the sequence of events set up an inevitable, yet unexpected ending? Are there set-ups and pay-offs throughout the story? Are the transitions from scene to scene clear? Does the plot support the emerging theme in the best way it can? 
Is the setting defined or purposefully undefined? Can the reader SEE what's going on, like it's up on the big screen? How do time and place contribute to theme? 
Does this story have the ability to resonate with the reader on both a personal and universal level? Is it compelling? Have all the other elements been put into service to enhance and clarify the theme? 
Have all the clich├ęs and borrowed images been purged to the best of my ability? Do the sentences act as real sentences? (Tell the reader something specific) Have I said things twice that don't need to be said? Have I pared away all useless language? Changed most of the general words like "it" to meaningful, concrete nouns that clarify and enhance?
Whether I've become one of Malcolm's experts is highly debatable, but this I can say for sure: 20+ years of writing practice has enriched my life beyond measure. Striving to be good at something is its own reward.
I do whatever part of “getting it down” feels right as a first step, whether it's a full-to-the-end draft, notes, outline, or brainstorm. This varies with the trigger, the dawning of an concept in my brain, what it is: a title, a plot, a character, an incident, a theme.
2. Whatever I end up with, plot, free-writing, or notes, I work from there.
If it's mostly a plot, I make an informal outline, filling in the blanks, the who-what-when-where-how-why of each scene in the outline. I remind myself that scenes, scene-sequences, chapters, parts, the whole story, should have answers to first five questions somewhere in the text. I try to identify the possible theme, the “why,” but often I have no idea.If, instead of coming up with a loose sequence of events resembling an outline, I've sat down, told myself to “go,” and put together a draft based on what pops into my head, I search for what my subconscious is telling me, look for possible scenes-segments-acts, and ask myself what scenes have I missed, what might be the theme given what I have typed out in front of me, what the spine might be etc. I also consider the order I've placed these scenes in. Does it make sense? 
If I've come up with notes and brainstorming, and this is my most common way of proceeding, I write a quick draft. Sometimes I do a little research about the "where" or the "what" before I write that first draft, but often I just go.
3. If the story's got something compelling about it, all the above converges, in the first, second, or third draft, I find myself with a decent working draft. Then it's time for me to do some kind of analysis. These are the things I look at:
Character
Plot
Time and place
Theme
Language
4. I rewrite.
At this point, I look for intelligent, kind, but honest readers to find flaws and re-enforce the story's strong qualities. I want them to tell me what works and what doesn’t work. 
I let the comments of others guide me in decisions, but I've learned to trust the little voice in my head. My purpose often trumps someone else’s take on the story.
I read the story aloud, have a friend proof-read it, and proofread it myself.
7. I submit it to, hopefully, the right markets.

8. Then I start a new story.

As an experiment, I am currently writing a story online at my Words in Place Blog.  I started last week, making myself get the seat of my sweatpants into the seat of my chair every day.  Check out my progress beginning with May 27th "Dare Ya!"
Here's the line up from first draft from one of my writing prompts posted above on EDF's Flash Fiction blog under "Writing Prompt." 
Dare Ya!
Dare Ya Two!
Second Day, Third Fly-Thru
Second Day, Fourth Look
Third Day, Is this ever going to turn into anything?
Third Day, Another run-What does the structure look like?
About the old guy coming through the door
So I today I've got to keep going... I'm working toward my 10,000 hours and don't have a minute to lose.  Check over there later if you aren't bored to tears!


Tuesday, April 02, 2013

Talent and Skill: Do you have it or not?


From the FFC archives, reprint from May 15, 2009

I am not a patient person. Never have been. And when in the past (a rolling, long-ago past) I couldn't master something immediately, I assumed I had no talent and no skills and I gave up.

No talent. No skills.

These are two distinct attributes. Having talent is terrific and it certainly makes following your passion rewarding, but talent is only half the formula.

Having skill is absolutely necessary (watch American Idol if you don't believe me). But getting these skills isn't an immediate process. And if you're talking about becoming an expert at anything, you're talking YEARS of practice. That's where patience comes in.

Robert McKee (the writing coach whose book STORY is an excellent resource) said that all we can do is to "take out our little bit of talent," push it around every day, apply our hard-earned skills and hopefully, that will result in something worthwhile. I'm sure I don't have that quote exactly right, but you get the gist. It takes both talent and skill to become good at anything and skill takes patience.

Last night when I went to bed I was miserable. Things at the end of my current work-in-progress were not working out. The whole thing felt stupid and, heaven forbid, CORNY. In the old days, I would have felt doomed. I would have thought of quitting. I would believe to the depths of my being that my writing sucked. And I sucked.

But this morning, I remembered I have developed a skill-set to help me solve the problems in my story. 

Hmmmm. Imagine that!

I read about two or three pages in the middle, did a little editing, and suddenly I knew how to solve the story problem at the end. My mind was asking questions that only an "expert" would know to ask.

I moved away from the computer and started to scribble notes of what exactly had to happen for the whole story to make sense. I was so shocked at how easy it was, I started doubting it would work. But in typing the notes, I’m sure it does work. And it isn't corny. Maybe a little corny, but I still have time to fix that. Wow, it's working!!!

I'm not saying here that what I do is brilliant or even interesting to anyone else. But it is to me. To see that I will allow myself to make mistakes, to go on tangents, to think I suck, and then get back to work. To take out my "little bit of talent" and my years of practice, and actually be able to have answers, know what comes next, delight myself with a surprising ending, that for me, is success. And when I discover the NEXT problem, I will have skills to solve that too.

This idea of having patience--and I suppose, FAITH IN THE WRITING PROCESS--is a gift to me. A gift I've given myself over the years by focusing on learning the skills I need to do what I want, and letting my little bit of talent take care of itself.