Last week, I hit a wall. For the very first time ever, I got this awful sick feeling my stomach, and suddenly my draft that I’d been writing with glee turned terrifying. I knew what was supposed to happen next. I had the whole story outlined. But suddenly, I was filled with so much doubt that I freaked out–am I writing the wrong story? Is my plot original enough? Will anyone give a care about my character, or is he too boring?
Commence hair pulling.
And for the first time ever, crying. Real, actual tears over words. I know I might sound spoiled, but up until that moment, writing had only ever been fun (and slightly obsessive) for me. I’d had plenty of moments where I knew I was writing crap. That the story didn’t make sense, or the words were awkward, or whatever truth crossed my mind. But I’d always been able to forge ahead regardless. To brush off the question marks and write.
What changed?
Well, it’s taken me about a week to figure that out. First, I fired off pages to a CP, and then had lengthy discussions with my always-supportive agent, but I couldn’t seem to find peace. I was about 3/4 of the way through my manuscript, and I couldn’t decide if I should change the plot lines or not. Every alternate idea I worked through had potential, but didn’t grab me. In fact, with every new option I explored, I freaked out more, until I was in full-on writer distress.
This was a new thing for me, and bewildering, and shameful–why was I so stressed over writing? I mean, it’s just a stupid story, right? Just words on paper? Only it’s not just writing anymore–I have obligations to other people. I’m trying to get traditionally published. I have something to lose. And without realizing it, I’d let all of that pressure (most of it from myself) creep in and create doubt, until I couldn’t even remember how I came up with my story in the first place. As I sat in the car with my husband outside the train station Friday morning (cue dramatic music), crying over everything and feeling lost, I realized that I’d forgotten how I discovered my character in the first place–and in turn, how I create stories.
I’d forgotten MY PROCESS. *cue hallelujah chords*
Everyone has a unique process for discovering a story. For me, story creation involves striking on a wonderful character who keeps my attention and defining that individual’s character arc. This allows me to create a plot that suits the character’s growth over the course of the novel. My stories are what you’d call character-driven. In many ways, I work from back to front. And that’s how everything in the story ends up contributing to the character’s outcome, from theme to individual plot points.
In my zeal to force a new plot-line, something more interesting or unique, I’d forgotten that the solution also had to suit my character’s arc, and that’s why nothing seemed to fit. Once this thought occurred to me, I briefly revisited the theme, premise, and character arc for my story–and discovered something else about my first draft: it wasn’t terrible. It might not be right in the end, but I’m not at the end yet, and deciding before I finish is pure crazy. That’s the other part of my process I’d forgotten: FINISH YOUR DRAFT.
It’s almost like I’d entirely forgotten that my previous books ever existed in draft form. And that they changed quite a bit over multiple drafts, and with multiple rounds of input. No first draft is perfect–that’s why it’s called a DRAFT. I’ve written a few books at this point. I should know this. But the basics were all too easy to forget.
So for all of you writers out there, this is your reminder: Remember your process. Finish your draft. Don’t worry about what comes next. Cross that bridge when you get there.
It’s the first week of July’s CampNano. Which means a lot of people are obsessing over word counts. If you aren’t familiar, CampNano is a month-long writing challenge that happens a few times a year, wherein you can partner with your writing buddies and harass each other to complete a writing project. It’s like team sports for writers. And it’s FUN. Trust me on this.
But back to the word counts. What is word count? The number of words you’ve written. The goal that keeps you tossing in your sleep. The bane of your existence.
Word count can mean any one of these things to me on any given day. But more often than not, I tend to write a lot. My word count uses me up rather than holds me back. Sometimes, I stare at the screen so long I know I’m destined for glasses. Thanks to my ability to word vomit, I’ve established a reputation for big word counts, and my lovely Twitter buddies (I mean that. They’ve lovely. No sarcasm) have coined the term:
Pulling a Melanie, ie: writing a boatload of words in a short time frame.
Yeah, I’m proud of that. But I also wonder why–why is it that the words pour out so quickly? Not because I’m a jerk and I like to pat myself on the back, but because I really sympathize with those who struggle. Those for whom word count is a four letter word (that makes no sense but stick with me here).
A few weeks ago, I was at the NJ-SCBWI conference, and I was lucky enough to have lunch with Lauren Oliver. She said something that really stuck with me, and which I believe is the answer to the question: how do I write so fast?
Practicing writing every day helps you build a tolerance for solving problems — Lauren Oliver
Yep. That’s me in a nutshell. I spent a decade designing products in every category of the market. With each new project came a whole new set of problems, and I had to solve dozens of them just to finish a single sketch. And we often sketched hundreds of concepts for each project. That’s thousands of decisions a week.
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| A typical product design sketch wall |
So, there’s no big secret to pulling a Melanie. Basically, I’m used to making a lot of decisions, very quickly, and I’m comfortable changing direction on a moment’s notice. I am not made of magic–but practice IS magic. The more you write, the better you will write. The faster you will write. So even if you’re not opening Word, crack open a journal every day. Jot down your thoughts about a problem you’re facing in your story (this is stupid and I hate this are acceptable notes!).
Stick with it, and the words absolutely WILL take you somewhere. Granted, we all write at different speeds. But I do believe you can maximize your own performance by practicing the very thing Lauren Oliver highlighted–build your tolerance for the craft. Then, hopefully, word count will become less of a focus and more of a side effect.
Aaaaand, it’s June. WHAT? How did that happen? For me, the time warp through spring was induced by writing like crazy, the school year ending, and most importantly, attending BEA and NJ’s SCBWI conference for the first time! Prepare yourself. This is a story best told through pictures.
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| Best part of ANY pub gathering–catching up with friends! Ella Schwartz, Heidi Schulz, Jen Malone, Me, and Rebecca Sutton. Our cool green lanyards were even cooler in person. And seriously, I could have just gabbed with them all day. |
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| But I had to go run around the floor grabbing swag like this Pigeon puppet from the Mo Willems series! |
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| I also had to go take breaks periodically to sort through the sometimes ridiculously thick books I’d been given to decide what I wanted. Tips: There’s a bag check downstairs. Use it, but really, who needs more than two bags of books? Try to be picky. |
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| I also roamed around with friends, taking pictures of stuff like this to show my kids (It’s a Pokemon. Don’t worry, I didn’t know either, but I was offered the opportunity to have my picture taken WITH it.) |
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| To cap things off, I sat in stunned silence with a group of equally confused attendees and listened to some earnest yet inexperienced actors quote Shakespeare’s Star Wars. And then Leia hula-hooped. It was a glowing LED hula-hoop, naturally. After that I had the opportunity to sit down with my lovely agent Pete Knapp and talk my face off, which was awesome! |
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| Fast forward to NJ-SCBWI a week later in Princeton, NJ. I was lucky enough to receive a tote signed by illustrator/author Peter Brown, who started the conference off with an incredibly well timed, self-deprecating speech dedicated to his Mommy. |
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| Again, the best part was hanging out with my writer buddies, like fellow MG writer Ronni Blaisdell! Awkward selfies are the BESTEST! |
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| Believe it or not, I also learned some things too, instead of coming home with twenty pounds of books as at BEA. One of the best sessions I attended was run by Lexa Hillyer of Paper Lantern Lit (a literary consultant & story architect), wherein she produced this rather special diagram on 3-act plotting. Now, I’ve studied 3-act structure before, but this was the first time I heard someone outline it so specifically for novels (especially MG/YA novels). Study it. Google 3-act structure. You won’t be sorry. |
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| I also attended an incredible workshop run by Sudipta Bardhan-Quallen on creating realistic contemporary characters. Besides wowing us with her streamlined and easy-to-digest presentation (Prezi.com), she also took us through all of the techniques for building characters that your readers will connect with, from the character’s qualities to their dialogue to their actions, in incredible detail. I’m reserving some of what I learned in this session (as well as Lexa’s) for future blog posts. |
And then the conference was over, and I drove home in a daze. I absorbed so much information and met so many people in the past week that I don’t know quite how seasoned authors do it all the time! I know many of you might be in the position of trying to decide on a conference or event to attend. FYI, BEA is a tradeshow, not a conference. Go there if you love (free)books, and walking around all day, and gabbing in a busy, fast-paced environment. SCBWI conferences, however, are great places to meet other writers, find critique partners, and network with people in the publishing industry. Most regions have their own chapter and conference, and based on my experience, it’s a good place to start (especially if you want the opportunity to pitch your work to agents/editors).
Now that I’ve gone to both, I think I’m on the look out for a craft weekend or retreat that’s more focused on writing and less on breaking into the industry. Although I will likely still attend BEA and a regional conference every year–this year, I spent Sunday afternoon lunching with best-selling author Lauren Oliver and chatting with her about craft, and story-telling, and the way of writing. And let’s face it, you can’t beat that.
As fiction writers, we strive to create truth on the page. We invent characters and settings, plot twists and mysteries, all the while hoping that our readers will believe the beautiful lies we have spun–because truth is what touches us. Truth taps into our emotions, allowing us to relate and learn. Truth unites us, readers and authors alike.
What’s interesting is that sometimes, the fictions we create are so painfully real that we question the propriety of truth in fiction–we question whether or not Tris should have been sexually assaulted in Divergent. We question Amy’s near-rape in Across the Universe. These moments are hard for readers, but they are hard for authors, too.
As authors, we are drawn to the darkest moments of our character’s lives. We want to see and hear and feel what they feel, but we also want to share those experiences with respect. Because the stories we weave are not fiction for everyone. For some readers, what we have written is their truth.
I’ve always thought it was appropriate and important to portray dramatic circumstances from real life. I support authors who take on the tough moments and show them with passion and respect. I just didn’t realize that I am one of those authors, not until this week.
For those of you who don’t know the story behind my first novel for middle grade, the plot centers around a girl whose little brother is battling cancer–neuroblastoma, to be exact. My life was first touched by NB five years ago in Brooklyn, when a neighbor friend of mine disclosed that her son had the deadly disease. Through their family, I became involved in Cookies for Kid’s Cancer, helping launch the initial year of fundraising (NB occurs in such a low % of the population it is not a lucrative field for pharma and relies on donations).
This week I learned that my 4yo’s classmate has been diagnosed with the disease. This is shocking and terrible and heart-breaking news. This child is only three years old. She doesn’t deserve this. And even though I know how random and sudden this disease can be from my book research, I was stunned by the news.
At first I felt something like guilt, for having written a novel that portrays this real person’s circumstances. But then I went back and read the book. And I saw that the story I told is true, but it is also kind and respectful and hopeful–and I felt a renewed sense of obligation as a writer to share these stories with the world. Even when it hurts to do so.
Neuroblastoma came into my life five years ago, and it has come again, so I am taking the hint from the universe. I remain dedicated to helping discover new and better treatments for NB and childhood cancers. If you want to learn how to help, too, just follow the link. And hug your kids today. Then hug them again.
One of the things that always fascinates me about a great book is the simplicity of the underlying story. I mean, the characters and plot components may be super complicated, but the story itself usually boils down to a simple one-liner that’s easy to take in and enjoy.
For example, my favorite book of last year, Shadow & Bone. This book is a layered, nuanced tale set in a fantastically rich folkloric setting–but the story really boils down to a girl who must choose to accept herself in order to master her powers and determine which of two men she really loves. It’s a story of the heart, no matter its setting and secondary details–those bits make the story come alive, mind you, but the story at heart is simple and RELATABLE.
Here’s where I come in. I have too many ideas. Upon reading that last sentence, some of you may say, GIVE ME A BREAK, but just wait–stay with me! Having too many ideas can be a problem. Secondary plot lines can add richness, or they can cloud the waters. There is a very fine line between the two states.
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| A typical project room wall in Product Design |
I struggled with the same challenge as a designer. I recall one particularly long day in the project room rather early in my career, when I’d been sketching cell phones for hours without striking on one my project manager really liked. My sketches were hot, the lines crisp–but something about the designs just WASN’T WORKING. Finally, my project manager (a very sweet car designer with a great flair for cutting to the quick of things) took me over to the project wall for a talk. Melanie, you have too many ideas, he said. You only need one idea in each design. One design, one idea.
One design, one idea.
This notion was genius to me–and still is. Here I was, killing myself weaving three different concepts into one sketch when I could just make three quick sketches instead (which would come more easily from the lack of complication). I’ve been thinking about this concept in regards to writing these days, and I think the same mantra can be easily applied to storytelling:
One book, one idea.
I’m trying to let myself embrace the idea. It’s much harder to risk 50 or 80 thousand words on the effort (as opposed to a ten second sketch), but every time I read an excellent book I find the same theory put to work–great books tell a great story–ONE great story. So tell your story. Tell just that story. Tell it from your unique point of view, in your unique voice, and let that ONE story shine.
I almost titled this post, My TBR Pile is Out of Control, because, well, IT IS. When I’m writing a first draft, I don’t read very much on the side. I know some writers who read every day, or every night before bed, but when I’m in the throes of a first draft, I have to keep my eyes on the prize so to speak. Other books can be a distraction.
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| My current May TBR pile (plus ebooks) |
There are times, however, when I pause during drafting to read a book because I need an injection of voice–or a slap in the face, ie: look at how awesome this is and are your words even close to this good? Believe it or not, that kind of slap motivates me. It’s really important to keep your goal in focus as you write–your goal being to produce something that’s good enough to go on a shelf next to these other published books. Therefore, the published books MUST be faced, and wept over, and admired.
But other than those moments, I tend to hoard reading for when I’m not drafting. Generally, I read a ton of books while I journal a new idea. Each book does something in such a spectacularly awesome fashion that reading them while developing my own idea challenges me to address the awesome at a planning stage. Then I draft. When I’m done, I toss that puppy at my CPs from a moving vehicle and drive straight to the library/bookstore/home to read another avalanche of books.
This accomplishes two things: first, binge reading provides separation from the story I’ve been working on (distance that will make revision much easier); second, re-immersion into other people’s craft highlights all of that awesome I’m trying to achieve yet again, so that when I DO begin my revisions, I’m ready to push myself even harder.
So that’s why I end up reading and writing in shifts.
Do you do this, too? Or not? And if you have any awesome books to add to my May TBR pile, let me know!
This April is the first time I’ve ever taken on the Nano challenge–which, for those of you who are like whaa?, is a month-long novel-writing challenge wherein you partner with other writers and harass each other to produce enough words to qualify as a novel in ONE MONTH. Yes, that is a crazy idea. But for lots of writers, writing under pressure works.
I sort of unofficially Nano-ed last November, which is when National Novel Writing Month occurs each year. I happened to be writing my MG novel at that time, and so I tagged onto other people’s writing sprints and enjoyed the company. During April, the same organizers run CampNano, a more flexible version of November’s challenge, wherein you can set any goal, and my fabulous critique group decided to sign up together.
I wondered what it would be like to write under pressure. Would I enjoy having other people know exactly how much I wrote each day? Would I get crushed by a mountain of guilt if I skipped a day? Would I feel guilty if I wrote TOO quickly?
Today is Day 11 of the CampNano challenge, and I can say that without a doubt, writing with friends is the best. Even if you skip a day, someone else in your group rocks the words, and you feel better. When you hop on Twitter looking for motivation, it’s pretty much a guarantee that someone else in your group will also be looking for a sprint.
And let’s face it–I’m a sucker for charts.
And Camp Nano makes some pretty wicked charts of your progress, which appeals to the OCD writer in me who shouts, I MUST REACH THIS BULLS-EYE!
What’s the key to enjoying this process? To actually getting something other than a boatload of disappointment out of a challenge like writing 50K words in one month? Here are a few tips on what has helped me so far:
- Pre-planning: I’m writing the second half of my YA space western, so for me it was key to plan out the wa-zoo. I have rough outlines, but I also have a hundred pages of journal material ready for reference if I get stuck. Sometimes, just reading my notes about a character spurs a scene that’s moving too slowly.
- Scheduling time: My writing time varies. I have two little nuggets at home, plus travel for spring break to contend with, so it’s been crucial to pick a writing time the night before each new day and stick to it. This involves being honest with family and friends about the crazy thing you are doing.
- Writing one word at a time: Even with most of the story planned out, I still hit transitions where I’m like, AND THEN WHAT, MELANIE? Well, I try to step back for a second and say, what else could happen here? Is there a character we have not seen for a while who would change the course of this scene? Is there another challenge or surprise I could pile on top of my MC? These are the moments when you can’t worry about the outline too much. Follow the interesting words, wherever they lead. Sometimes these unexpected moments turn out to be the best thing ever.
- Cheering everyone on: As a designer, I competed with other creatives in a pretty cut-throat environment. It’s taken me a year to believe that writers are NOT like that. The more I cheer, the more you cheer–for reals! It never fails. Even at a low moment, someone random will pop up on Twitter, cheering for the words I’ve cobbled together, and that’s just plain wonderful. And I find that celebrating someone else’s good news always brings a smile to my face–and often times, sends me racing to the keyboard.
So, I thought I was being super clever when I tagged a bunch of query tips as #Qtips during WriteOnCon last week . . . and then I found out that people actually tweet about using Q-tips. As in, they tweet about jabbing cotton swabs into their ears, people! Therefore I apologize for using such a disgusting hashtag, and give you a round-up of the tips I tweeted below:
If there’s one thing a career in product design prepared me for, it’s generating boat loads of ideas. So much so that I love brainstorming, and will often do so even when I’m not asked to–resulting in my friends saying, Jeez, Mel, will you just let me tell you about getting my finger stuck in the so-and-so without telling me how to fix it? (My husband would warn you never, ever to go shopping with me either, unless you want to learn more about the plastic junk on Target’s shelves than you ever wished to know.)
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| Brainstorming sheets outside a project room, circa 2005. |
But anyway, back to what you do want to learn from me: how to come up with better ideas. As a designer, and now as a writer, I use concrete methods to generate alternatives. Because, honestly, alternatives are what you’re really after. Anyone can dump their hero into the ocean and then come up with a solution as to how he’s rescued. But is your solution original? Intriguing? Funny? Astounding?
In order to come up with alternative ideas, and find solutions that have the zing of originality, here are ten things you can do to get your brain thinking along a new track:
1. Dictionary Hop: Flip to a random page in the dictionary (or any book), and stab at a word. Use that word to inform your scene. How does the word flutter change your plan for rescuing the hero? What about the word brocolli? This might seem silly, but encouraging your brain to take a lateral leap can get you off the boring linear track of thinking, and lead you to a fresh new idea.
2. Change your Goal: You’re focused on rescuing the hero. How about you shift your focus to a different plot point–like introducing a new love interest. How does that change how he gets rescued?
3. Combine Goals: Similarly, you can take your current goal and pair it with an opposing goal: saving the hero + having him get caught by the bad guy = a rescue that turns out to be a worse fate than drowning.
4. Manipulate Your Setting: How does your setting feed into potential rescue scenarios? How is your setting unique–what surprises lie within?
5. Reveal a Secret: What do we NOT know about your character that might change the way he handles his predicament? Is there a secret you’ve been building towards that can reveal itself, flipping the scenario on it’s head so that the situation we thought was a disadvantage is now an advantage?
6. Introduce a Mystery: Can something bizarre happen within your scene? Is there an element that goes against nature or the expected, that introduces a new layer of mystery (or ties into an existing mystery), giving our hero new options?
7. Read Nonfiction: Seriously, the weirdest stuff happens in the real world. Sometimes it’s super helpful to step away from your fictional world and flip through a non-fiction book (or watch an hour of NatGeo. Did you know that a blue whale’s heart weighs a thousand pounds?).
8. Check your Themes: What are the themes running through your story? Is there a way that your themes inform the solution? Even an abstract theme can feed into the way you address your setting and characters to reach the outcome.
9. Expect the Impossible: Ask yourself what the most impossible solution might be for your problem. Then explore what your world requires to make this a possibility–you might be closer to a solution than you think.
10. Take the Simplest Path: Sometimes, a simple solution is the answer. Note: not a boring solution, but not a ten-stage rescue that takes three chapters to unfold. Is the rescue even the point of your scene? Or is there something else you want the reader to focus on? If so, the rescue itself should be simple and intuitive. Don’t resist the practical just because it makes sense. Sometimes, even writers have to make sense.
Since I posted a bunch of pictures of my revision process, I’ve had quite a few questions as to what the heck I am doing with all of my brightly-colored post-it tabs. As in, the tabs you see here, along the edge of my manuscript:
So here’s a bit more information on my revision system, and why I do the things I do:
- Print the MS for a fresh look: I can and do make edits on the screen as I’m working on a draft. But for a full-scale revision, where I’m assessing all of the different aspects of the novel at once, I print a hard copy. I then DO NOT alter the digital MS until ALL REVISIONS are complete on paper. This takes self control, people. But it is *so* worth it. By the time you finish editing on paper, you’re ready to hit the keyboard again.
- Color-code for frequency and balance: I use different colored tabs to track different characters, or thematic elements, or plot lines, so that I can physically see how they are distributed throughout the MS. If I have forty pages with no orange tab, I know I’m missing an opportunity for greater continuity in the story. I usually only track elements that are targeted for revision (there are a dozen different post-it colors available).
- Group for organization: I put different types of notes on different edges of the MS. You can see the colored flags on the right margin. The left margin has flags of another color–these are things I need to come back to, stuff I still need to address or can’t figure out. Once I deal with those to-do flags, I remove them. My actual edits to the MS are on the page or on post-its along the bottom edge, that way they stay out of the way of reading the MS.
- Edit on Post-its for freedom of thought: Writing on the MS bugs me. If I get an edit wrong, and cross it out, and re-edit, only to cross it out again, I have a mess. So I edit on post-its. I can use a million post-its if I want to. They’re cheap!
- Transcribe notes for further polish: When I’m finally done with my ten million post-it notes, I’m ready to transfer all of these hard-won revision jewels into the computer. And as I transcribe my notes, I of course react to them, and tweak them, and by the time I’m done I’ve not only revised, but polished those changes.
This system works for me because it evolved from my work in product design. Back in those days, I planned huge research reports and strategic line assessments, and I used a similar revision process. I’d print out mini-slides of my presentation, make notes on them, and then edit the document. My interns really loved me for this (ie: they wanted to kill me for having to print out slide miniatures for 500pg presentations). But I find the process invaluable now.
So, as you revise, take note of the systems that appeal to you. Do post-its make you happy, too? Or do you love the layered files in Scrivener? We each have our own crazy habits–the key is in figuring out what works for you.
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