Have been jumping around forcing myself to write the actual story parts of the book. It's tough going because my mind doesn't want to stay with this type of work and I keep suddenly getting up and going to do something else.*
This has made me realize that I've gotten to a point where I need to work out a good map for the story world. I've been sticking to vague general layouts in my head, but I need to pull them together on paper and get them nailed down--including distances and direction--because I can't get this thing grounded properly until I do. I also need to get specific sites in my head for some of these scenes I'm adding, for the same reason: proper grounding.
Today I made myself start filling out the big conversation between the MC and the main secondary character, the one that's the "reveal" for the book. As I did so, I had to go back to side documents where I'd moved freewriting and background work, and had to copy and paste bits over into the main document. As I did that, I admitted to myself that the reveal seems stupid and gimmicky and hokey, and I noticed that the side pieces give the "reveal" heft (in my mind, anyway) that makes it not seem quite so stupid.
I also see no way to work those side pieces into the ms** without doing what's been in the back of my mind all along, which is suddenly cutting, after 20 or whatever chapters, to another POV character. And not only that, but doing it in second person.***
I have avoided committing to anything about this part of the book because it's an extremely terrible idea to suddenly snap into another POV and voice, especially so late, after the reader's quite firmly entrenched in the MC's POV and voice. And it's most especially a terrible idea to do it using second person, which requires an even greater leap from the reader--a leap which quite a few readers are never able to make. But this growing feeling that my crucial plot information is stupid and hokey has driven me to go ahead and let this one breakout chapter go the way it wants to go, against all sane self-advice. If nothing else, it'll eventually help me see what absolutely has to be there, that might be worked in in other ways. And maybe if the book gets published I can put the chapter online, if it's totally messing up the book's flow.
*On the bright side, my teeth have never been so well flossed.
**Because there's no way my characters would discuss all this in any depth, much less the depth that would make the reveal seem less gimicky.
***The reason it's in second person is because that's the way it came out and that's the way it wants to be. Later, another option might be to try putting into first person and letting it be an extended monologue disguised as dialogue. However, it has resisted going this direction so far--hence, the side document storage rather than placement in the full ms.
Showing posts with label description. Show all posts
Showing posts with label description. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Very busy. An interesting thing happened, though. I've been spending hours and hours thinking about other people's work, and I'm at a point in the semester where most of that thinking is teasing out different story threads by looking at scenes and pieces to see what they say about character/thematic arcs. I have found that when you're writing organically and have a decent grip on your characters, this stuff naturally rises to the surface and starts to fall into place--if you keep your eyes peeled and stay focused on the work and not on finishing/publishing. You can begin to figure out that your character starts out ___ way, and since you like him and know what you want for him, you understand that by the end he's going to be ____ way. And you can use that to put your book together.
So I've been thinking about this stuff, literally, for hours and hours, over days and days, for many different characters not my own (but that I like and sometimes also love). I've been picking out the main idea a scene or snippet gives the reader, and thinking, among other things: what does this tell us about the character, and where does it go along his/her arc?
Last night I finished up late, no time to work on my own stuff, but I wanted to clear my head and just pull up my ms and write something--not for the purpose of making progress, but just to touch base quickly with my story world and my people. I opened the file, and decided to see if I could pin down anything about a transitional piece I haven't written yet, one that takes place near the end.
I can't remember if I blogged this, but during another mind-clearing session last week, I took some more structural ideas a writer friend had been talking about from The Plot Whisperer, and made a list of all my scenes, written and unwritten. I wanted to see if I could get anything useful out of laying TPW ideas over what I had, and trying to see my ms in those terms. When I did this, nothing changed much in a concrete way, but considering my ms in terms of the story points that Alderson emphasizes made me think about the ms in a slightly different way that I think will provide energy to the story.*
While I was doing all that, I also got more specific about the part that leads from the middle to the end, and added a small transitional scene to the list: Two of my guys prepare to leave, and this other character comes out trying to follow them.**
So last night I decided to see if anything came to mind about that scene--maybe what the two guys would say to each other, or what would happen when the other character came out. I ended up sketching out a "moment."*** I'm pretty big on "moments," and I felt one was needed here to set the main secondary character in our minds before he heads off into the ending. And a moment is a perfect thing to write when you don't have much time and can't get into the flow of story.
I knew this guy was just sitting there, on a rock or stump or wall or something, waiting for my MC so they could leave. That's the "moment"--we see him as the MC is approaching him. I knew what the secondary character's intentions were, going into the ending sequence, so I thought about his hands, his face, the way he sat, his general attitude, and I was playing around with the best words to evoke all that. And as I played with it, I started realizing how different he was from the way he started out at the beginning. All the words to describe him were different, everything evoked in the beginning was the opposite from what was being evoked here, near the end.
I suddenly saw very clearly that this was the end point of his arc. He started out ____ way, but now he is ____.
I suddenly saw very clearly: all my middle-of-the-book scenes that need to accomplish a plethora of story jobs also need to do this: step by step, they need to show how story events make the guy change from what he is in the beginning when the MC first considers him, to this guy who is sitting here now, at the end.
When the middle scenes do that, they'll have nearly the last bit of power and grit that the story's been needing to give it traction and momentum all the way through.
My mind only made those connections because it's been thinking about and looking for the same types of patterns over and over for days if not weeks, in other people's work. That's why, when I was just putzing around with a paragraph of description before quitting for the day, my mind automatically dove in to tease out the same patterns in my own ms.
Another funny thing: this morning I was thinking about the way the character sat on that rock/stump/whatever, the way he held himself, etc., and I thought: this guy knows who he is. Then I remembered sometime back in a fuzzy distant past asking myself what this character wanted--what made him leave his old home and take off into the unknown. Back then I thought about it, and had a dim feeling that he left because he didn't know who he was. I didn't like that; I was very doubtful and suspicious of the feeling, because "He wants to know who he is" is a vague, unhelpful, generic goal. It doesn't tell you anything. It's like an answer that fills in the blank on a junior high English test. I felt that it was really true about him, but I also felt that it was probably just a side thing you understand about your character, and I proceeded under the assumption that as I wrote more, his problem and his longings would take on some texture and depth.
But no, there is it: he starts off shapeless, soft, unformed, naive, passive. And by the end he's firm, solid, knowing, capable, competent. In the beginning, he doesn't know who he is. By the end, he does.
And now that I think about it, he also....acts. He's sitting there waiting because he's made the decision to leave and he is about to act on it. And he will. That's why he'll be there in the climactic scene and in the very final scene, too, with my MC. And...ahem...it's also why he'll be able to influence the story outcome and present the MC with his climactic choice.****
So, there you go.
And now, back to work. On other people's stuff.
*This is what happened when I looked at my beginning-to-middle transition in TPW terms, too.
**And then he gets his eye gouged out!
***I don't know the technical word, but that's what I call it. It's where you stop, like a freeze frame, and give the reader something, hit them with it strongly so they absorb it. A moment can be as tiny as emphasizing an idea by using white space via a new paragraph, or it could be a whole page of description.
****Which I haven't quite nailed down yet. But I will, if the creek don't rise, a meteor doesn't strike, and I don't get hit by a bus.
So I've been thinking about this stuff, literally, for hours and hours, over days and days, for many different characters not my own (but that I like and sometimes also love). I've been picking out the main idea a scene or snippet gives the reader, and thinking, among other things: what does this tell us about the character, and where does it go along his/her arc?
Last night I finished up late, no time to work on my own stuff, but I wanted to clear my head and just pull up my ms and write something--not for the purpose of making progress, but just to touch base quickly with my story world and my people. I opened the file, and decided to see if I could pin down anything about a transitional piece I haven't written yet, one that takes place near the end.
I can't remember if I blogged this, but during another mind-clearing session last week, I took some more structural ideas a writer friend had been talking about from The Plot Whisperer, and made a list of all my scenes, written and unwritten. I wanted to see if I could get anything useful out of laying TPW ideas over what I had, and trying to see my ms in those terms. When I did this, nothing changed much in a concrete way, but considering my ms in terms of the story points that Alderson emphasizes made me think about the ms in a slightly different way that I think will provide energy to the story.*
While I was doing all that, I also got more specific about the part that leads from the middle to the end, and added a small transitional scene to the list: Two of my guys prepare to leave, and this other character comes out trying to follow them.**
So last night I decided to see if anything came to mind about that scene--maybe what the two guys would say to each other, or what would happen when the other character came out. I ended up sketching out a "moment."*** I'm pretty big on "moments," and I felt one was needed here to set the main secondary character in our minds before he heads off into the ending. And a moment is a perfect thing to write when you don't have much time and can't get into the flow of story.
I knew this guy was just sitting there, on a rock or stump or wall or something, waiting for my MC so they could leave. That's the "moment"--we see him as the MC is approaching him. I knew what the secondary character's intentions were, going into the ending sequence, so I thought about his hands, his face, the way he sat, his general attitude, and I was playing around with the best words to evoke all that. And as I played with it, I started realizing how different he was from the way he started out at the beginning. All the words to describe him were different, everything evoked in the beginning was the opposite from what was being evoked here, near the end.
I suddenly saw very clearly that this was the end point of his arc. He started out ____ way, but now he is ____.
I suddenly saw very clearly: all my middle-of-the-book scenes that need to accomplish a plethora of story jobs also need to do this: step by step, they need to show how story events make the guy change from what he is in the beginning when the MC first considers him, to this guy who is sitting here now, at the end.
When the middle scenes do that, they'll have nearly the last bit of power and grit that the story's been needing to give it traction and momentum all the way through.
My mind only made those connections because it's been thinking about and looking for the same types of patterns over and over for days if not weeks, in other people's work. That's why, when I was just putzing around with a paragraph of description before quitting for the day, my mind automatically dove in to tease out the same patterns in my own ms.
Another funny thing: this morning I was thinking about the way the character sat on that rock/stump/whatever, the way he held himself, etc., and I thought: this guy knows who he is. Then I remembered sometime back in a fuzzy distant past asking myself what this character wanted--what made him leave his old home and take off into the unknown. Back then I thought about it, and had a dim feeling that he left because he didn't know who he was. I didn't like that; I was very doubtful and suspicious of the feeling, because "He wants to know who he is" is a vague, unhelpful, generic goal. It doesn't tell you anything. It's like an answer that fills in the blank on a junior high English test. I felt that it was really true about him, but I also felt that it was probably just a side thing you understand about your character, and I proceeded under the assumption that as I wrote more, his problem and his longings would take on some texture and depth.
But no, there is it: he starts off shapeless, soft, unformed, naive, passive. And by the end he's firm, solid, knowing, capable, competent. In the beginning, he doesn't know who he is. By the end, he does.
And now that I think about it, he also....acts. He's sitting there waiting because he's made the decision to leave and he is about to act on it. And he will. That's why he'll be there in the climactic scene and in the very final scene, too, with my MC. And...ahem...it's also why he'll be able to influence the story outcome and present the MC with his climactic choice.****
So, there you go.
And now, back to work. On other people's stuff.
*This is what happened when I looked at my beginning-to-middle transition in TPW terms, too.
**And then he gets his eye gouged out!
***I don't know the technical word, but that's what I call it. It's where you stop, like a freeze frame, and give the reader something, hit them with it strongly so they absorb it. A moment can be as tiny as emphasizing an idea by using white space via a new paragraph, or it could be a whole page of description.
****Which I haven't quite nailed down yet. But I will, if the creek don't rise, a meteor doesn't strike, and I don't get hit by a bus.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Busy with school starting and family stuff going on. WIP will have to fall by the wayside while I bear down on family and writing-related obligations.
Right now, the WIP seems to really suck, anyway. I haven't read any of it for real (like, sat down and tried to read straight through as a reader instead of a writer) in a long time, so I don't know if it sucks in the real world or not. But in my head, it's like a blob of unflavored gelatin on the sidewalk. I look at it and I think: Bleh. Bleh, bleh, bleh.
So what I've been doing instead is trying to find the right place for the bad guy's winter camp/home. It's been gnawing at me that this isn't settled, because I can't properly write the scenes that take place there until I have a feel for it.
Also, I want to find the right place for the final confrontation.
I did flesh out some of a falling-apart-shoe related piece. I'm now thinking I need pieces like this in order to write a book that works, because they're simple and character-driven and there's no larger questions to consider about what the reader would be expecting or wondering about. If I write too many scenes where exciting stuff happens that moves the plot forward, I get bored, and eventually confused, uninterested, and disconnected. Like now. Pumped-up fictional life-or-death drama is just not real enough for me to stay related to, not when it's scene after scene after scene.
So I'm going to lay off the writing--unless I get a craving for it--and instead make sure that every day I focus on something about trying to get strongly connected to the ms again. Which means stuff like finding settings, thinking about how these people got here, and trying to understand what their daily routines and lives really look like, from inside their bodies and heads. Much of this type of thinking can be done behind the wheel of a car, so I don't know how often the actual file will get pulled up.
Right now, the WIP seems to really suck, anyway. I haven't read any of it for real (like, sat down and tried to read straight through as a reader instead of a writer) in a long time, so I don't know if it sucks in the real world or not. But in my head, it's like a blob of unflavored gelatin on the sidewalk. I look at it and I think: Bleh. Bleh, bleh, bleh.
So what I've been doing instead is trying to find the right place for the bad guy's winter camp/home. It's been gnawing at me that this isn't settled, because I can't properly write the scenes that take place there until I have a feel for it.
Also, I want to find the right place for the final confrontation.
I did flesh out some of a falling-apart-shoe related piece. I'm now thinking I need pieces like this in order to write a book that works, because they're simple and character-driven and there's no larger questions to consider about what the reader would be expecting or wondering about. If I write too many scenes where exciting stuff happens that moves the plot forward, I get bored, and eventually confused, uninterested, and disconnected. Like now. Pumped-up fictional life-or-death drama is just not real enough for me to stay related to, not when it's scene after scene after scene.
So I'm going to lay off the writing--unless I get a craving for it--and instead make sure that every day I focus on something about trying to get strongly connected to the ms again. Which means stuff like finding settings, thinking about how these people got here, and trying to understand what their daily routines and lives really look like, from inside their bodies and heads. Much of this type of thinking can be done behind the wheel of a car, so I don't know how often the actual file will get pulled up.
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Yesterday I wrote a new piece of dialog where a secondary character spoke up on her own and made the exchange come to life.
Today I realized the ending of that dialog went off track because my MC would be too worried to respond as lightly as he does. So I started to redo the end of the dialog, but blanked out because a) I'm tired, and b) I need a stronger understanding of the scenes that happen right before it in order to have a grip on exactly how worried he is.
So instead of doing that, I wrote a couple paragraphs describing a pair of pants.
Today I realized the ending of that dialog went off track because my MC would be too worried to respond as lightly as he does. So I started to redo the end of the dialog, but blanked out because a) I'm tired, and b) I need a stronger understanding of the scenes that happen right before it in order to have a grip on exactly how worried he is.
So instead of doing that, I wrote a couple paragraphs describing a pair of pants.
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Hmm, so I'm thinking that every writer may have a different base "layer" that they tend to start with when writing a scene. Some people tend to need a plot to build from, some need a setting; I generally just need characters or even just a strong feeling from a character I don't know yet. If I think about it, I see that I most often start with a base layer of either internal thought or of dialog. Then I flesh out and layer on physical grounding, setting, and last of all, plot. (not all the time, but more than other ways of working.)*
So it occurs to me that this may be something to consider, when I get to a "stuck" place. Maybe mixing it up a little and starting with different layers than I'm used to can help when I get in a writing rut. Like, say, if something's not coming easily, maybe I could back off and approach it from establishing setting first, or getting a physical bead on where everybody is and what they're doing. Or maybe I could start with an action.
I mean, I do do all these things, but maybe I could do it more deliberately sometimes to see what happens--to see if it gets the story moving and helps me reconnect. Something to think about, anyway.
*When I work, the thematic stuff may already be close to the surface in that initial layer of internal thought and non-plot-driven dialog, just because internal thought and non-plot-driven dialog are already halfway tapped into the character's growth and change. Something to think about is whether plot-driven writers tend to have to work harder to get to that layer of thematic depth and resonance than someone who starts closer to character. Is the thematic engine of a story as visibly close to the surface, if your mind works first in terms of "what's happening"? Is it harder not to lose track of? Maybe not; maybe I just have trouble recognizing theme in plot because of my own writing weaknesses.
So it occurs to me that this may be something to consider, when I get to a "stuck" place. Maybe mixing it up a little and starting with different layers than I'm used to can help when I get in a writing rut. Like, say, if something's not coming easily, maybe I could back off and approach it from establishing setting first, or getting a physical bead on where everybody is and what they're doing. Or maybe I could start with an action.
I mean, I do do all these things, but maybe I could do it more deliberately sometimes to see what happens--to see if it gets the story moving and helps me reconnect. Something to think about, anyway.
*When I work, the thematic stuff may already be close to the surface in that initial layer of internal thought and non-plot-driven dialog, just because internal thought and non-plot-driven dialog are already halfway tapped into the character's growth and change. Something to think about is whether plot-driven writers tend to have to work harder to get to that layer of thematic depth and resonance than someone who starts closer to character. Is the thematic engine of a story as visibly close to the surface, if your mind works first in terms of "what's happening"? Is it harder not to lose track of? Maybe not; maybe I just have trouble recognizing theme in plot because of my own writing weaknesses.
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
Printed out first 40 or so pages and started going over them. (Yes, again.)
Concerns:
Do I find myself skimming as I read because it's not grabby enough--or because I've read it three million times already?
Is it too fairy-tale-ish in tone?
Does it get too glib in Chapter 3? (I already know the answer to this one: Yes.)
Non-concerns:
It flows okay.
Most of the backstory could possibly be in the right place for now.
Most of the description isn't tripping me up.
Things to think about:
That girl character needs to be a human being, not a piece of cardboard.
Maybe look at fairy-tale-overtone words (princess, palace) and consider whether any other terms will do.
Hmm. I think developing the girl character (even though she's a hundred yards away and doesn't say anything) will also do away with of much of the glibness, and maybe even some of the fairy-tale overtones. Not sure what to do exactly, though. Must think.
Concerns:
Do I find myself skimming as I read because it's not grabby enough--or because I've read it three million times already?
Is it too fairy-tale-ish in tone?
Does it get too glib in Chapter 3? (I already know the answer to this one: Yes.)
Non-concerns:
It flows okay.
Most of the backstory could possibly be in the right place for now.
Most of the description isn't tripping me up.
Things to think about:
That girl character needs to be a human being, not a piece of cardboard.
Maybe look at fairy-tale-overtone words (princess, palace) and consider whether any other terms will do.
Hmm. I think developing the girl character (even though she's a hundred yards away and doesn't say anything) will also do away with of much of the glibness, and maybe even some of the fairy-tale overtones. Not sure what to do exactly, though. Must think.
Thursday, June 25, 2009
There's not going to be a lot of writing today. Today is more of an arranging-things-in-your-head sort of day, because I think I might have gotten a grip on what I'm doing, for now. In the big picture, anyway--enough to save the file under a new name (cuttingthecrap2) and cut a bunch of stuff, and split the chapters up and give them names. Also, I've divided the story into parts. It looks like Part Two will pick up where the old version began, in the middle of action. I expect there will be a Part Three, where the direction of the story changes.
Part One is the part I'm doing now, and it's going to have a different feel from the other parts because it's not all action-y (to me, anyway. To me, it's setup). I expect it to be about a third of the book, but we'll see. Looks like it might be a hundred pages or so (or will be when it's double-spaced)--but we'll see about that, too. Right now it seems to be eleven chapters, and I've got the main points of Chapter 4 in mind--that's the chapter I've been hung up on for a few days. At the moment, I can see the entire arc of Part One, which is encouraging. Of course, having a vague idea in your head and actually writing it in a compelling manner are two completely different things, but at least I see a path ahead instead of being lost in a cloud.
Now what I've got to do is:
a) Keep up my interest, because I get bored writing stuff where I already know what's going to happen, scene by scene.
b) Keep up the emotional story and not skim along doing whatever sounds good plotwise.
c) Keep my chapters on track and not get off into description and backstory and explanations.
I wonder if I should go ahead and start double-spacing. I usually don't start double-spacing till I feel driven to, but with the organizational changes, I'm sort of feeling the need. It will help when I have to print out and read, because I single-space for readthroughs*, and the more format changes from what I've been working on, the better.
*I also change fonts and margins.
Part One is the part I'm doing now, and it's going to have a different feel from the other parts because it's not all action-y (to me, anyway. To me, it's setup). I expect it to be about a third of the book, but we'll see. Looks like it might be a hundred pages or so (or will be when it's double-spaced)--but we'll see about that, too. Right now it seems to be eleven chapters, and I've got the main points of Chapter 4 in mind--that's the chapter I've been hung up on for a few days. At the moment, I can see the entire arc of Part One, which is encouraging. Of course, having a vague idea in your head and actually writing it in a compelling manner are two completely different things, but at least I see a path ahead instead of being lost in a cloud.
Now what I've got to do is:
a) Keep up my interest, because I get bored writing stuff where I already know what's going to happen, scene by scene.
b) Keep up the emotional story and not skim along doing whatever sounds good plotwise.
c) Keep my chapters on track and not get off into description and backstory and explanations.
I wonder if I should go ahead and start double-spacing. I usually don't start double-spacing till I feel driven to, but with the organizational changes, I'm sort of feeling the need. It will help when I have to print out and read, because I single-space for readthroughs*, and the more format changes from what I've been working on, the better.
*I also change fonts and margins.
Wednesday, June 24, 2009
Casting about for some firm ground to stand on. Checked the shelves next to my desk for books that I know have strong plot structures and people moving around learning stuff.
Almost randomly opening Nancy Werlin's Double Helix, I'm at Chapter 29. I say "almost randomly" because I want to be near the end since I know there's quite a bit of information being learned there.
So, in Chapter 29 the MC has just entered a room with another character, where the MC is, er, learning stuff. The chapter is very short, nearly all dialog with the characters sitting facing each other. But this is interesting: it ends in the middle of the conversation. The scene isn't over, but NW chooses to end at a critical moment of learning something--or really, just after, because the conversation goes on for a line or two after that. Then Chapter 30 picks up in the middle of the conversation, which continues with nobody having moved from where they are, and after four or so pages the MC leaves the room, and the chapter ends on a hook/revelation about something else.
One notable thing is that the conversation is about plot. It advances the plot. It's not about character or world-building, but answers questions the reader has been wondering about, in a surprising way.
Now: almost randomly opening Lian Hearn's Across the Nightingale Floor to somewhere near the front, where I know there's a lot of moving from place to place going on. I think I'm actually in Chapter 1--these chapters are big-@ss long, with lots of breaks. The MC has been journeying with another major character. Lots of description and world-building. They stop at an inn, and during the night the MC overhears a conversation and learns something. MC and other character move on the next morning. Much description and world-building. Characters stop to look at terrain, and have a conversation where we learn backstory. More traveling, another night passes, characters move on. More backstory given in narration. Another night stop, another day of travel...
Already there's a problem, because when I have this much backstory and description it's boring and doesn't work. In ATNF, it's not boring and it does work. I don't know why. I'm not sure I can figure it out. Maybe because, as I thought in previous discussion with WF re. colors, Lian Hearn's affection for backstory and description comes through?
Except that I do have affection for my backstory.
Man, I don't know. I don't think I've learned anything except that I'm not Nancy Werlin or Lian Hearn. I already knew that.
Side note: To me there's a big difference between LH's ATNF and her Harsh Cry of the Heron, and I'm wondering if she outlined the latter but not the former. To me, ATNF doesn't feel outlined, but HCOTH does. (I'm referring to making outlines before starting the book, not using outlines during writing or revision.)
Almost randomly opening Nancy Werlin's Double Helix, I'm at Chapter 29. I say "almost randomly" because I want to be near the end since I know there's quite a bit of information being learned there.
So, in Chapter 29 the MC has just entered a room with another character, where the MC is, er, learning stuff. The chapter is very short, nearly all dialog with the characters sitting facing each other. But this is interesting: it ends in the middle of the conversation. The scene isn't over, but NW chooses to end at a critical moment of learning something--or really, just after, because the conversation goes on for a line or two after that. Then Chapter 30 picks up in the middle of the conversation, which continues with nobody having moved from where they are, and after four or so pages the MC leaves the room, and the chapter ends on a hook/revelation about something else.
One notable thing is that the conversation is about plot. It advances the plot. It's not about character or world-building, but answers questions the reader has been wondering about, in a surprising way.
Now: almost randomly opening Lian Hearn's Across the Nightingale Floor to somewhere near the front, where I know there's a lot of moving from place to place going on. I think I'm actually in Chapter 1--these chapters are big-@ss long, with lots of breaks. The MC has been journeying with another major character. Lots of description and world-building. They stop at an inn, and during the night the MC overhears a conversation and learns something. MC and other character move on the next morning. Much description and world-building. Characters stop to look at terrain, and have a conversation where we learn backstory. More traveling, another night passes, characters move on. More backstory given in narration. Another night stop, another day of travel...
Already there's a problem, because when I have this much backstory and description it's boring and doesn't work. In ATNF, it's not boring and it does work. I don't know why. I'm not sure I can figure it out. Maybe because, as I thought in previous discussion with WF re. colors, Lian Hearn's affection for backstory and description comes through?
Except that I do have affection for my backstory.
Man, I don't know. I don't think I've learned anything except that I'm not Nancy Werlin or Lian Hearn. I already knew that.
Side note: To me there's a big difference between LH's ATNF and her Harsh Cry of the Heron, and I'm wondering if she outlined the latter but not the former. To me, ATNF doesn't feel outlined, but HCOTH does. (I'm referring to making outlines before starting the book, not using outlines during writing or revision.)
Thursday, June 18, 2009
I was complaining to writer friends about a story I read that had a lot of colors in it. Like, the story used quite a bit of color in descriptions. Just plain old colors (red, blue, yellow, green, purple, orange) to describe plain old things (table, chair, door, hat, wall, floor). It bugged me because that's the kind of writing I see in picture book mss by people who think they're writing for kids when they're really writing down to kids. "Miss Tilly put on her yellow hat with the purple flower and went out of her brown house with its red chimney." I had it drummed into my head at an early age (writing-wise) that you never, ever put colors that don't mean anything into a PB ms because you're treading on the illustrator's turf. Maybe it made me a little paranoid about colors, but in general it helped my writing, because from the beginning of my career I zeroed in on colors as things that clog up the story without adding anything: what does the word mean, what does it add, why's it there? It helped me because basically that's what you need to do with every single word you put on the page.
To me colors are mostly wasted words, because the specific words don't do anything. I like to use "dark" rather than "black" or "brown" because "dark" conveys a mood. Color words don't make me feel anything, usually. If you make the color fancier, like "azure" or "magenta," it still doesn't convey anything to me. I wonder if it does to other people, maybe people who are more visual thinkers.
But anyway, the ironic thing is that as soon as I shot my mouth off to writer friends about the way this story used color, I turned back to my ms and the first thing I see is this:
Under Simon’s feet the winter wheat was alarmingly sorry-looking. Where there should have been a lush ocean of spring growth, there was only brown soil dusted with sparse bits of green.
I almost never use color, but there it is, right after I've derided somebody else for doing it. I thought, whoa. I mean, I'm not going to change it, but it's interesting that I'm falling back on color here because I'm trying to describe something specific. Not something in my head, but pictures of wheat winterkill I've seen on the Internet. I don't know what this means. Maybe it's not important. I notice that just a little farther on in the ms, maybe a page or two down, I'm describing something that is just in my head, and since I haven't actually got a picture of it, I'm all about getting across a feeling from the description, not a specific image. So, instead of colors, I'm playing around with words like...checking...
fluttering
billowy
overflow
ripe
shapely
Hmm. I did use a couple of colors. Red. White. But looky here! You can read the above list and get a very good damn idea of mood and feeling. Red and white don't tell you sh*t. Huh.
Well, I don't have any conclusions to draw. Just noticed it, and thought it was interesting.
To me colors are mostly wasted words, because the specific words don't do anything. I like to use "dark" rather than "black" or "brown" because "dark" conveys a mood. Color words don't make me feel anything, usually. If you make the color fancier, like "azure" or "magenta," it still doesn't convey anything to me. I wonder if it does to other people, maybe people who are more visual thinkers.
But anyway, the ironic thing is that as soon as I shot my mouth off to writer friends about the way this story used color, I turned back to my ms and the first thing I see is this:
Under Simon’s feet the winter wheat was alarmingly sorry-looking. Where there should have been a lush ocean of spring growth, there was only brown soil dusted with sparse bits of green.
I almost never use color, but there it is, right after I've derided somebody else for doing it. I thought, whoa. I mean, I'm not going to change it, but it's interesting that I'm falling back on color here because I'm trying to describe something specific. Not something in my head, but pictures of wheat winterkill I've seen on the Internet. I don't know what this means. Maybe it's not important. I notice that just a little farther on in the ms, maybe a page or two down, I'm describing something that is just in my head, and since I haven't actually got a picture of it, I'm all about getting across a feeling from the description, not a specific image. So, instead of colors, I'm playing around with words like...checking...
fluttering
billowy
overflow
ripe
shapely
Hmm. I did use a couple of colors. Red. White. But looky here! You can read the above list and get a very good damn idea of mood and feeling. Red and white don't tell you sh*t. Huh.
Well, I don't have any conclusions to draw. Just noticed it, and thought it was interesting.
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