My Writing Process (with pictures)

19 May 2013 3 Comments

by PartlyPixie in Becasue You Asked, Getting it done, NaNoWriMo Tips, The Novel, Writing Tools Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Over time, I've often been asked a lot to talk about my writing process – the nuts and bolts of what I do when I sit down to write. And so far, I've resisted doing so, partly because I don't really know if I have a writing process, and partly because its a very self-conscious thing to do, to pay attention as you write and figure out what is it exactly that I do?

So I have been watching, very coyly and indirectly, so as not to frighten myself into doing strange things like starting to smoke a pipe or drink absinthe merely to seem more writerly. And I've been able to piece some of it together.

But I have to clarify that this is not how I *always* write, it's how I write when I feel like writing this way – particularly when I need to feel more professional. In truth, it's probably how I write only 30-50% of the time. I've logged more words and writing hours in the last year flopped on the sofa with a cat next to me and marathons of Buffy the Vampire Slayer in the background than I have at a desk.

So if you want the CliffsNotes version of how I write, here it is:

Choose caffeinated beverage and preferred seating area. Commence writing.

There. If this is enough for you, feel free to go about your day.

Anyone looking more for the full monty, let's keep going.

And by no means should anyone try to replicate my way of doing things. This is what works for me, and everyone is different.

I normally stop on my way home from work at a coffee shop to get in a few hours of uninterrupted writing time before obligations of home (cat, laundry, friends, Netflix) can drag me in and distract me, and I've made a point of posting pictures (like the ones here) of where I'm writing over at the Facebook page if anyone wants to follow along.

Today, I don't particularly feel like getting dressed in real clothing, so I'm working at The Desk at home (more on The Desk another day). I chose a pot of hazelnut black tea, and gathered my tools, which are always nearby in my bag – I select purses for being iPad-and-notebook friendly.

When not at home, I choose a cafe with wi-fi and plenty of comfy seating. I prefer places where people go to study, places with 50¢ refills and quiet music on in the background. Though sometimes, I opt for a moody bar and whisky, if the writing demands it.

I usually start with checking in with the outside world – Facebook, twitter, a cursory glance at my email, sending a text or two I needed to send, maybe returning a quick phone call, just to clear off my to-do list, or to get used to the idea of sitting and working. I'll use this time to play a small game of some kind if I'm feeling reluctant or if my mind is busy from the day. Sometimes I stare at people or out the window. I fidgit, and I daydream, I listen to a song I've been humming all day.

I like to put in my headphones whether I'm at home or out, even if I don't play anything on them. Few things say “don't bother me” in the same way. I generally listen to music to set the mood of my writing. Sometimes I listen to ambient noise of brain wave stuff, or I'll have nothing at all and pretend to work while I take notes on the juicy conversation at the next table.

After maybe twenty minutes, I begin. The caffeine and routine have worked into my system enough and I'm ready. Even if I'm not ready, I get to work. The time I spend working – weather it's a few hours or thirty minutes is mine, and I do what I want as long as it's toward the ultimate goal of having written, or having expanded my little writing empire online.

Some days I like to start with fountain pens and notebooks. I like to write by hand when I feel an extra reluctance, or when I need to ease into a scene, write lists of things to think about or do, or just to feel the weight of a pen in my hand. Some things need to be hand written first, and others need the clarity of typing them out, the secure feel of consistent font.

Most of the time, I write on my iPad. Ever since I got it last march, it's my favorite thing ever. I keep a notebook at my elbow for quick notes and brain drains while I work, and I write whatever is going to be written that day. Sometimes, like today, it's a blog entry. Other days, I have a flash of insight and want to get to work immediately on a scene or a new idea.

Sometimes it all snaps together like Legos. Sometimes it's like building with old wooden blocks that are warped and rounded at the edges, and I know it's rickety and needs a lot more work. But I have made the shape I want, and at the very least I can build it again out of sturdier stuff.

Sometimes I write snippets from several different scenes, scattered across several files. Sometimes I write one long, contiguous piece, and sometimes I rewrite something that still doesn't feel right to me.

But no matter how it goes, if I've sat down to write, writing gets done. There is no other option.

Generally, I get around 2,000 words done. Sometimes more, rarely less.

Unless I'm trying to reach a monthly goal like last year, I don't worry about how much I do. Some scenes need to be written slowly and with care, they need my full attention on them like a friend in crisis. Other scenes are easy and fall out in large chunks of words and scarcely need more from me than to be the one to write them down.

I allow some distractions while I work. I respond to texts and messages within reason. If someone I know comes in, I'll stop to chat. I'll update Facebook, or tweet. I let myself research until I find what I need to continue with the story (and since my current novel involves a lot of history and phrases from other languages, I do a lot of quick googles in the middle of a thought). If possible, I do research on my iPhone to ensure I don't fall into a information hole. But if I do get sucked in, it happens. I just pull myself out and write more.

I do my best to not stress about these kinds of things, the interruptions and blips, and to trust myself. I'm a writer, I am writing, and as long as that keeps happening, I don't worry much over the small things like how much or little I can use from my day's work. It's all building the shape of what I want, each day getting closer.

Best fortune cookie ever.

There is one thing I never let myself do: I don't look up writing advice in my writing time. Its better to have a big sloppy rough draft done than have wasted another hour or day reading about how to do it. If I need encouragement, I'll look for it later. Writing time is for writing. Period.

If I get stuck, I switch tasks, or stare out the window more, or just muscle through it and write bad, awful, terrible prose.

Some days I leave cranky and irritated with how it went, other days I feel empowered and ready to take on the next step. Sometimes it's like I'm lost in a fog with no compass and an inner ear problem, other times I can see the sprawl of my plot like a view from space.

But my day is always better if I've had time to write.

This is all how the process goes – when there is a process. I strive to never be chained to one way of doing things, but to be fluid with life – there isn't always a coffee shop or desk nearby when I need one.

I've been known to write some of my best stuff curled on irowboat's sofa while he played Arkham City or Tomb Raider next to me. I've been known to whip out my pen at parties, and to seek out corners in bars to get some notes down.

It all boils down to this gem of advice:

If you've come all this way with me, awesome and congratulations.

Now go write something with your own process, and don't give mine another thought.

 

Month Six Reflections: Writing Every Day Is The Wrong Goal

23 Jun 2012 5 Comments

by PartlyPixie in June, Writing Tools Tags: , , , , , , , ,

We all know the routine, the advice, the universal cat o’nine tails writers flagellate themselves with, the guilt monster that chases us each time we shrug writing in favor of movie night. It’s like the knowledge that we should eat our veggies and sleep more, and while we’re at it say our prayers and floss and don’t rely on the sniff test to make sure our clothes are clean.

But there it is, everywhere, in every writing blog and most books, hovering like the words of some deity above each laptop, waiting to punish us with guilt when we do not obey, pointing accusingly like a Monty Python hand from the sky.

Write every day. No matter what.

I’ve never been a believer, myself. I tend to go with what works, what leads to the least guilt and the most results. Writing every day seems like Santa, something we all believed once, but no longer.

And yet, I see my dear fellow writers sigh and feel guilty and get all blocked up because they haven’t found a way to follow this fairy tale advice.

After six months of writing a novel each month, I finally feel I have some room to talk. And as anyone can see, I don’t write every day.

So, my lovelies, let’s break this one down.

To write every damn day means that we never fall ill, or have an impromptu date night, or sleep in, or have kids or family need our attention. To write every day, the rest of life must take a back seat, no matter how full and interesting it becomes.

And sleep happens whether we want it to or not, eventually. That end of the candle isn’t a good one to burn all the time just to fit in a few words.

Making the goal of writing every day means one thing for sure: you’re setting yourself up to fail.

I know, lots of people will argue with me. That is okay. If you are able to write every day, and that is how you get things done, then great. Keep doing that.

For the rest of us, I want to ask a different question:

What is writing every day supposed to achieve?

As far as I can tell, it’s probably advice that has been reverse-engineered from the habits of productive writers. These writers love their craft and stories, they know there are bad times and good. They enjoy the process of writing, and they do it most days.

But it probably looks like they write every day. So, to any wannabe writer, the advice goes: write every day.

Again, I ask, why? Why are we writing, what are we wishing to achieve?

If we merely are seeking to practice writing a’la Writing Down the Bones, then writing most days is good, without structure or specifics. The goal is to process our lives, to write, to learn who we are as we write. But then, practice can move into doing, into using the skills developed for stories and poems and novels.

If we are wanting to write a novel, or a short story, or a blog, then the goal changes.

But instead of a day to day account of what we ought to achieve, it is better to shift to a goal-specific mindset. Set a goal, set a deadline, work until that goal is achieved by your deadline.

Most likely, this will result in writing most days. And without the weird guilt of not writing, and wondering why it is so hard to get those fingers moving. And without that guilt, there is no extra resistance and good-for-nothing self talk to wade through to get to writing the next day.

And when something comes up, we go do that, have fun, then come back to writing.

Our minds are smart. They know that writing every day for the sake of it isn’t doing what we really want. We want to be authors and poets, we want to be producing, or editing, or to write the words “The end” at the finish of a shitty (but done!) first draft. We want to know we are writing toward something. If we aren’t, our mind will stop us and move to something else, something that feels productive.

We want to know that our writing is making us more of what we want to be.

It is how we function as humans. We need to accomplish, to finish, to start again. We need to feel that progression as we work, or else work becomes meaningless. Without the end goal of having most of our teeth as we age, we wouldn’t brush them every day either.

A goal is there to be conquered. Conquer it, then let out a long battle cry and dive in again.

Believe me, it will build us up. It will make us what we want to be, whther or not we even knew what that was when you we started.

So ask yourself what you want to do with writing.

Set big goals. Conquer them.

Or set small goals (just not so small that they seem meaningles). Conquer them.

Give yourself enough time to finish that you can make course corrections, in case some big stumbling block happens in the middle.

Write on, friends. I’ll be pulling another 30,000 word miracle this week, because life is interesting and full. But the goal is the same, and the result will be me prevailing.

 

Bitching About Outlines

16 Jun 2012 5 Comments

by PartlyPixie in June, Slightly off Kilter, The Dreaded Rant Tags: , , , , , , , ,

If you’re here expecting a little rant about the necessary evil of outlines, but how I’ll persevere to get better at them because that’s what Real Writers do, you’re in the wrong room. Go look at some lolcats or something. Or feel free to stick around, but remember that I already told you this won’t end how you want.

Outlines are evil..

Something has gone wrong this month. And last month. The words just aren’t happening. I have a good premise, great characters, and even some good plot twists. My shitty first drafts are not nearly as shitty as they were in January.

Everything should be going well.

But they aren’t.

I decided to try sketching out a loose outline instead of my usual style of “readysetgo!” I found the idea in some book or other and thought it would be great material to blog about.

I wrote a loose outline for last month. Then, proceeded to write anything but that story and research myself to death, only to end up writing thirty five thousand words in that last week.

This month, again, I wrote an outline, thinking it might help me avoid fatigue. Now, when I sit to write, I end up staring at the outline and trying to figure out what to write next. I try to understand the ending before I’ve even gotten there. Then, I put the outline aside and stare at my screen… And the perfectionist voice starts to chime in.

“Oh you think you want to write that ending, do you?”

“Gee, this story looks a lot like those books you read over and over last year. Can’t you find something else to do?”

“If your story is going to be this predictable, then why don’t you go research some of those college degrees you could have? I hear there’s a shortage of economics professors.”

“Is writing making you fat? Your butt looks kind squishy,”

“I mean really, how many more times can you write a story with a love triangle, anyway?”

I’ll spare you the rest – you get the idea. I’ve been stifled, fighting myself as much as I fight for time to fit words in. Hell, I’ve barely even blogged; it takes too much energy to fight the perfectionism monster just to get fiction in, and for the first time in a while, I can’t find the off button.

It didn’t even occur to me until today that the outline could be the problem. I write to find out what story I’m telling. I like plunge in, letting my hands type on, under the complete influence of my writing mind and my intuition. The story is alive and breathing, it worms into my skull and I am excited to get back and find out what is going to happen next.

The outline already tells the story. It’s dead, it’s theoretical, it holds no mystery at all. I know it all needs to be written, but the joy of it has been bled out by even a rough little list of events leading to an ending. It’s all there, no point in me doing a damn thing. I skip straight to second-draft mode where I obsess over details and flesh out the story and write much tighter prose. I freeze up. And I hate it.

The outline must die.

I suppose it could be argued, especially since I rallied against ignoring the perfectionism monster previously, that I ought to employ the same tactics and keep the outline.

But why? Because outlines are so damn great? Because that’s what Real Writers do?

Some people have likened outlines to the storyboards film directors use to have a rough idea of how to shoot the movie. They say that writers need that kind of thing too. Yes, great, but the last time I checked the film was already written. The two processes cannot be compared.

Another argument for outlines is that is saves time in the writing of the story. This, at least for this writer, is demonstrably untrue. I wrote 50,000 words in a week in march, outline free. It even had a beginning, middle, end, central conflict et al.

And as for what Real Writers do, I’ve done a helluva lot of research on this, on blogs and books and interviews and other things, and the only thing Real Writers do consistently is write. A lot.

Therefore, anything that prevents me from writing a lot makes me less of a writer.

And I made a new rule as I watched my pretty little outline catch fire and curl into black and orange soot.

Burn away everything that makes you less of what you want to be.

I feel better now.

Slaying Sacred Cows

13 Mar 2012 4 Comments

by PartlyPixie in March Tags: , , , , , ,

Day Thirteen: 19,555 of 50,000

This is a good month to slay a sacred cow.

What I mean by a sacred cow, is that story we’ve been wanting to write for years. You know the one. Maybe it’s even the story that made us want to start writing. It’s a perfect idea, one we must do justice to, one that has to be written perfectly from the very start of it because it’s sacred, untouchable.

And it goes “moo”.

I’ve started this particular sacred cow maybe fifty times in the last fifteen years. Every time, I know it’s wrong, I’m not good enough, I suck. But in my mind it’s such a beautiful idea, that I can’t bear to mar it with actual words and plot. I mean, what if it turns out to be a totally awful idea, and I lose my vision? What if I’ll never be a good enough writer to do it justice?

The good thing is, I’ve been practicing this story for a long time, so I have a good chance of writing it fast.

The bad thing is, it’s kept me from writing other stories. Any time another idea comes close, I shut it down. I’ve got to save my great writing for this One Story, this Great Story, this sacred effing cow.

This month, after my illness, I found myself in the unique position of being utterly behind, and with the irresistible reward of an iPad when I finish this month’s book. There’s no time to do anything but to just do – full steam ahead, no chance for doubt or remorse. No chance to stop and think at all, actually.

So when I realized this was going to be crunch time, I decided it was a perfect time to slay the Moo Beast.

The issue with sacred cows is that they have to abide by the same laws as everything else we write. They require really shitty first drafts, edits, weeding out of ideas, and the possibility of being totally worthless at the end anyway. It’s what happens when ideas hit reality  - they have to get real, and real means flawed. No matter if we write that perfect story now or in twenty years, we’re still going to have to risk sucking at it.

So, write it. Write it when you don’t have the time to worry about perfection.

That’s what I’m doing, and so far it’s working. I really don’t have time to think about how much this isn’t perfect and beautiful and gorgeous the way I always imagined it should be written. And that’s a good thing, because it’s always better to have it written, even if it sucks. And it just might – I haven’t taken the time to notice.

My sacred cow is: A man finds a girl nearly frozen to death in the woods by his house. He takes her home and warms her up, and she turns out to be a mystical being who sacrificed everything to be with him.

Your turn.

What’s your sacred cow?

Musing Upon Shitty First Drafts

22 Feb 2012 12 Comments

by PartlyPixie in February Tags: , , , , , , ,

Day Twenty One: 37,279 of 50,000 words

I write fast. And messy. It’s how I’ve learned to do things.

It’s because at heart I’m a classic overthinker; if I don’t get words on the page before I have a chance to analyze what I’m doing, it doesn’t happen. Perfectionism is the middle name of my little editor gremlins. We talked about perfection earlier in this blog, so I won’t backtrack until I have something new to say on that matter…

But my message is this – get it down on the page fast and dirty. Fix it later.

This is what is commonly called a Shitty First Draft.

I know we talk about this a lot as writers. It’s such easy advice to dispense. We tell each other that Earnest Hemingway himself said it: “First drafts are always shit.”

But really, don’t we all think we don’t really need that advice? I mean, surely each individual, if they’re diligent enough and go slowly enough, and are gifted enough, it will all be genius from the start. Right?

We’ve all had that feeling of sitting down and writing a perfect or near-perfect short story. The Muse was in a good mood that day, and gave you a gift. Shouldn’t all writing be like that?

Well, I’m not published. Yet. But if you even wonder how I do this – keep up the word count, write sometimes 10,000 words in a day – if you want to do something similar, you’ve got to let go of your standards and write.

It took me seven NaNoWriMos to figure it out. Last year in the middle of skipping around and following the tangled ball of yarn that my plot was becoming like a kitten on crack-laced catnip, I realized:

Wait… This is how things get written. You fucking write them.

That’s the moment I decided to try the theory out for realz, and this 12 novels project was born.

(As a side note, muses are fickle bitches. One day they help you spin gold from dust motes. The next day they’re cheating on you with the no-talent hack down the hall.)

So you can be assured, each month as I post my word count, it’s all one big Shitty First Draft. Sometimes, I get a few lines of prose I treasure, or a bit of dialogue that makes me squirm in glee. Other times I skip scenes I don’t feel like writing all together, leaving a note like

***Something bad happens. Damon wakes up in a warehouse.***

Because I don’t have time or words to slog through a scene I’m not ready for. Hell, it may not be a pivotal scene anyway. What is necessary is the next chapter, the one that tells what he does after things fall apart, when he has to fight off the vampires and find his way, barefoot and bleeding, back home.

It’s all one big Shitty First Draft.

Stories meander, they give me characters I have to chase around because they change constantly, I write scenes I won’t ever use at all – but every time I write, shitty or not, something valuable, priceless is happening.

Because as if by magic, my sucking is sucking less.

And I’m getting a confidence that when I sit to write – muse or not – I will get more story down on the page. Even if it’s a pained 500 words and I walk away feeling like a zombie and things like that last post happen.

(And I’ll always post my zombie posts, just so you guys know I’m not doing this like it’s pie. It’s not. It’s work.)

So now, my friends. Get your word processors up, put your inner editors to bed, drink a few shots of liquor…

And write shit. Absolute total garbage. You have my blessing.

And if you happen to write something beautiful, creative, imaginative and instantly publishable?

I suppose we can forgive you.

Eventually.

No matter what, it’ll get you where you’re aching to go. I promise.

Day One

01 Jan 2012 1 Comment

by PartlyPixie in January Tags: , , , ,

2,008 of 50,000 words 

 The first day is usually the worst day for me.

I might be saying that because this is the first day, and I spent a long time deciding what to write. Ask me again at day fifteen, and I might say that the middle is the worst day because I’m getting stuck.

But for today, starting has been difficult.

I spend a lot of the first day staring at a blank page, shifting through the internet, fighting with myself. To start, I need a character I want to spend time with – any little clue is good enough; a scene, a gripe, a name. I sit and stare at the page and listen hard for the next character ready to be written.

It’s a little like getting a cat in a cat carrier. They run around and spread out their legs to hang on to the side, and hiss and growl and bite, and just when you finally get them in the box they disappear in some quantum physics-like maneuver and are running under the bed, and you’re wondering if you should call the vet and reschedule.

But eventually they get in the carrier and you slam the door down and they howl and protest and you wonder if you’ve made a mistake because of all the noise they’re making.

That’s how the first day usually goes for me.

I know that once I’m past these first few thousand words, I’m stuck with the character. I’ll be living with this person for at least a book and I need to like them, even if we don’t see from the same angle on everything. I have to sit and stare at the screen and interview them, see if they have what it takes to survive a story I’m writing. I sit and figure out where they don’t want to be – I ask what would upset their way of life, usually something small that will get bigger with time.

I start there – right when things start to go wrong.

Then, usually at the eleventh hour of the first day, I stop staring and get to typing.

It’s usually not great prose (otherwise known as a shitty first draft). I’ve learned over the years of NaNoWriMo to not be bothered. Words are words.

And a beginning is a beginning.

Hold on to something – this is really happening. 12 novels, still 12 to go.

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