writing

Traveling epiphanies

One of my favorite ways to connect with mywriterself is to travel, and my favorite vacations are ones that are busy. Many people prefer spending a week relaxing at the beach or cruising a new social scene, but I enjoy vacations where I’m exploring nature and/or history. It’s not unusual for me to plan an itinerary where I overnight in several different places.

My especial favorites are national parks, ancient ruins, and working cathedrals. For me, there is no way to feel closer to the divine than to stand on the rim of the grand canyon or to walk through the ruins at Tintern Abbey. I want more than anything to tour the Holy Land and to see the older placeseastern and westernwhere civilization was born.

But I’ve had epiphanies closer to homestanding on a beach, walking a city street, hiking a trail, running around a lake, taking a drive on a country road.

During travel I reopen the mental space (no computer, no phone, no TV) to contemplate the vastness/smallness of the world, of human experience, of something mystical binding it all. Sometimes I feel like if I reach out just a little further I’ll come to an understanding, and it’s in this nearness where I find the urge to write, the urge to capture a feeling of insight that passes almost as quickly as it comes.

I don’t think I write whole novels in this poetical-spiritual headspace. My novel writing is a little too practical for that. But I do hope that somewhere in the climax of each book, a reader will feel that epiphany, that glimpse of understanding that inspires me to write.

After all, isn’t reading a novel simply another form of travel?

Where have you traveled and found inspiration?

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Alaska, inspiration, travel

Crank it out

The reason most people fail instead of succeed is that they trade what they want most for what they want at the moment.

I’ve tried to find this quotation’s author so I can give proper attribution, but my attempts on the internet keep coming up “unknown.” I first heard these words when the boys track team where I used to coach had it put on the backs of their long-sleeve T-shirts. Shortly thereafter, the girls team had their own shirts made with the same quote. So many years later, I still have these shirts the teams gave me.

It’s obvious how this quote relates to track and field. When you’re competing, or when you’re working out, or when you’re supposed to be working out, there are so many temptations to slack off, give up, or simply doubt yourself. Athletes who work through these temptations tend to find greater success. I would think it’s obvious this quote also relates to pretty much anything else in life. If you want something badly enough, you have to work at it no matter how you’re tempted to slack off in the now. You must always remind yourself of why you’re working.

In my case, my goal is to be a professional writer. Over the course of my writing my first manuscript, I wasn’t sure of this goal. I didn’t need the motivation of a potential writing career because I was writing to get a masters degree, and I had a built-in structure of deadlines through my graduate program. I began my second manuscript after graduation, and I was doing pretty well until I hit a major life-hurdle and stopped writing altogether. Returning to grad school for another degree helped me get that manuscript done.

But somehow things are different for my third. It’s partly simple maturity, but I’ve also finally come to the conclusion I want to be a writer.

It used to be that the stars would have to align, the earth had to fall silent, and several muses needed to be singing in order for me to write. I required huge chunks of hours at a time because it took forever for me to warm up to write and then struggle through plotting. It wasn’t worth my effort to start a writing session that didn’t result in one or more complete chapters.

Now, with a little one in my care, this is impossible. It was close to impossible before, which is why I took a very long time to finish my first two manuscripts. Somewhere along the way someone told me if I wrote a page a day for year, I’d have a manuscript. This made sense, but I just couldn’t do it.

In the last month or so, I’ve been getting up extra early every weekday to write. Some days I only do crank out one pagebut this is the goal. Some days I write a page of notes, either of ideas or research. Many days I get more than one page done. This is working for me, but the trick is that I don’t give in to the million other easier things I could be doing at the computer (or to sleeping in). I save those for the reward when my page is done.

I know that I’m capable of getting more words done in a day, but for now it’s still a little hard with the toddler pulling me away to “go play marbles” every three seconds. I’ve always done my best work under pressure, and I hope someday soon to sign with an agent and begin the deadline process with a publisher.

Do you have any special ways you’ve tackled the temptation to give up what you want most for what you want at the moment?

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inspiration, writing process

A poem’s essence in a novel

Two characters in my work-in-progress (a YA sf/f/mystery/thriller thing) take a class together in which they have to write poetry. She’s pretty good at it, he not so much.

So poems are on my mind, and since I’m just over the 10,000-word mark in the work-in-progress, it means I’m taking a step back to evaluate my plotting and dream up new plot twists (if you were paying attention to my plotter vs. pantser post, you’d know this). Part of stepping back is looking at favorite things I’ve read and written. Since I used to teach British Literature, I have these two poems, two of my faves of all-time, saved on my computer.

Emily Bronte’s is a fairly straightforward poem of mourning. Philip Larkin’s captures, for me, the very profound feelings I’ve had visiting old, spiritual places here and abroad. Each poem has the essence of somethingBronte’s “divinest anguish” and Larkin’s “serious”nessthat, given their contexts, I feel in my own writing. If only I had a comparable gift with words, I might be published already.

Do you have a favorite poem that speaks to you so strongly you feel it echoes the essence of what you write? If you’re a reader, not a writer, do you have a favorite poem whose essence is something you find in the novels you gravitate toward?

If you’ve never thought about your favorite poem this way, maybe you should.

Either way, I’d love it if you shared your favorite poem. I’m always looking for new things to speak to me.

 

Remembrance

by Emily Bronte

 

Cold in the earth, and the deep snow piled above thee!

Far, far removed, cold in the dreary grave!

Have I forgot, my Only Love, to love thee,

Severed at last by Times all-wearing wave?

 

Now, when alone, do my thoughts no longer hover

Over the mountains, on that northern shore;

Resting their wings where heath and fern-leaves cover

Thy noble heart for ever, ever more?

 

Cold in the earth, and fifteen wild Decembers

From those brown hills have melted into spring-

Faithful indeed is the spirit that remembers

After such years of change and suffering!

 

Sweet Love of youth, forgive if I forget thee

While the Worlds tide is bearing me along;

Other desires and other hopes beset me,

Hopes which obscure but cannot do thee wrong.

 

No later light has lightened up my heaven,

No second morn has ever shone for me:

All my lifes bliss from thy dear life was given-

All my lifes bliss is in the grave with thee.

 

But when the days of golden dreams had perished

And even Despair was powerless to destroy,

Then did I learn how existence could be cherished,

Strengthened and fed without the aid of joy;

 

Then did I check the tears of useless passion,

Weaned my young soul from yearning after thine;

Sternly denied its burning wish to hasten

Down to that tomb already more than mine!

 

And even yet, I dare not let it languish,

Dare not indulge in Memorys rapturous pain;

Once drinking deep of that divinest anguish,

How could I seek the empty world again?

 

 

 

Church Going

by Philip Larkin

 

Once I am sure there’s nothing going on
I step inside, letting the door thud shut.
Another church: matting, seats, and stone,
And little books; sprawlings of flowers, cut
For Sunday, brownish now; some brass and stuff
Up at the holy end; the small neat organ;
And a tense, musty, unignorable silence,
Brewed God knows how long. Hatless, I take off
My cycle-clips in awkward reverence,

Move forward, run my hand around the font.
From where I stand, the roof looks almost new-
Cleaned or restored? Someone would know: I don’t.
Mounting the lectern, I peruse a few
Hectoring large-scale verses, and pronounce
‘Here endeth’ much more loudly than I’d meant.
The echoes snigger briefly. Back at the door
I sign the book, donate an Irish sixpence,
Reflect the place was not worth stopping for.

Yet stop I did: in fact I often do,
And always end much at a loss like this,
Wondering what to look for; wondering, too,
When churches fall completely out of use
What we shall turn them into, if we shall keep
A few cathedrals chronically on show,
Their parchment, plate, and pyx in locked cases,
And let the rest rent-free to rain and sheep.
Shall we avoid them as unlucky places?

Or, after dark, will dubious women come
To make their children touch a particular stone;
Pick simples for a cancer; or on some
Advised night see walking a dead one?
Power of some sort or other will go on
In games, in riddles, seemingly at random;
But superstition, like belief, must die,
And what remains when disbelief has gone?
Grass, weedy pavement, brambles, buttress, sky,

A shape less recognizable each week,
A purpose more obscure. I wonder who
Will be the last, the very last, to seek
This place for what it was; one of the crew
That tap and jot and know what rood-lofts were?
Some ruin-bibber, randy for antique,
Or Christmas-addict, counting on a whiff
Of gown-and-bands and organ-pipes and myrrh?
Or will he be my representative,

Bored, uninformed, knowing the ghostly silt
Dispersed, yet tending to this cross of ground
Through suburb scrub because it held unspilt
So long and equably what since is found
Only in separation – marriage, and birth,
And death, and thoughts of these – for whom was built
This special shell? For, though I’ve no idea
What this accoutred frowsty barn is worth,
It pleases me to stand in silence here;

A serious house on serious earth it is,
In whose blent air all our compulsions meet,
Are recognised, and robed as destinies.
And that much never can be obsolete,
Since someone will forever be surprising
A hunger in himself to be more serious,
And gravitating with it to this ground,
Which, he once heard, was proper to grow wise in,
If only that so many dead lie round.

 

 

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Church Going, Emily Bronte, favorite poems, Philip Larkin, poetry, Remembrance

Plotter versus pantser

I don’t know how standard these terms are outside of my writing network, but for those who don’t know, a plotter is someone who plans or outlines their story ahead of time and a pantser flies by the seat of their pants, so to speak, and makes things up as they go along.

Some people are die-hard plotters or die-hard pantsers, but in my experience most writers are some parts each.

I’m probably one-third plotter and two-thirds pantser. I’m working on my third novel now, and although I’ve approached the actual execution of my ideas differently in each case, my creative process is still pretty much the same. I plan a little and then let the rest come as it comes.

For example, in my first novel, I knew the main character would be a young man in a Moses situationhe was born on the side that lost a war and without his knowledge was raised to be the elite of the side that won. I knew he had to have a Jean Valjean story of remarkable redemption. I knew that his planet’s population would be descendants of a space-travel accident, and that they would, one thousand years later, have split themselves into three societies of distinctly different moral codes.

I did not know at first the true nature of my character’s special sci-fi ability (what? you’d say, if you read the novel, his secret ability is the central concern of the story), or the circumstances of his family members he lost because of the war (what? the whole story is about reuniting them). I did not know of the existence of the secret societies or admiralty intrigue or extra-terrestrial beings that basically drive the entire plot. I did not know the ending or how to get there, only the nature of the choice the character would have to make.

With the basics of the characters and world-building fairly set, I come up with an inciting incident, and from there start writing. As I get a little ways into the story, it’s like turning a casual acquaintance into a dear friend. Spending time with my story brings us closer, and plot twists present themselves. So, basically, I begin plotting my story in earnest after I’ve written chapter two or three, and by this time I’m pretty sure I’ve figured out the ending. I’m always planning several steps ahead, but I’m hesitant to chart a firm course all the way through because I know that most of my best ideas come with timein the shower, in the carand only as I think through the consequences of the chapter I’ve just finished writing.

The consequence of pantsing much of the plot is that I have to do major revisions. A story must build to its climax, and since I never know exactly where I’m going to end up, I have to go back to the beginning and make sure the road is clear from page one. I do at least as much work revising as I do the original draft, and that works for me.

So, are you a plotter or a pantser? Has anything worked for you that might help another writer like me?

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pantsing, plotting, Prosorinos, revising, writing process

STORY-inspired plot chart

One of the most importantscratch thatTHE most important book I’ve read about writing is Robert McKee’s Story.

McKee’s book is based on his famous seminars he delivers world-wide and is actually for screenwriters, but his advice is completely relevant for novel writers. On his website, he says his alumni have won 35 Academy Awards (160+ Nominations) and 164 Emmy Awards (500+ Nominations). The dust jacket of my hardcover copy says works written, directed, or produced by his alumni include Batman Forever, Beauty and the Beast, E.R., Forrest Gump, Friends, Law & Order, Saving Private Ryan, Seinfeld, Sesame Street, Toy Story, and the X-Files, and my copy is something like eight years old.

Two important concepts I took from the book are the “gap” and “two goods/two bads.” Essentially, the “gap” opens up when a character takes action they expect to yield a certain result, but the reality turns out differently. Two goods/two bads refers to character choices, which are only meaningful if the choice is between two equally strong goods or two equally strong bads. To really understand these concepts, read the explanations and examples in McKee’s book.

Reading Story led to my creation of a “gap chart” for my first manuscript (science fiction set on a faraway planet). My main character, Aiden Carter, is an ambitious eighteen-year-old on the fast track to the equivalent of the presidency. His skeleton in the closet is his mother, who frequently breaks the law against charity. Here is the very top of the chart:

Plot advances	What Aiden expects	What happens instead	Possible choices/ consequences	Decision/new direction	What is risked
Aiden Carter cheats in a track meet, next morning called to “principal’s” office.	Fears either a punishment for cheating or questions about his collapse on the track.	Questioned by the military government about his mother, Hannah Carter.INCITING INCIDENT	TWO GOODSTell truth-avoid getting in trouble. Lie-protect mother from prosecution.	Lies.	University honor status.
Aiden walks home.PROGRESSIVE COMPLICATIONS BEGIN	Hannah Carter is safe. (because his lies will protect her)	Hannah Carter is arrested anyway.	TWO GOODSDon’t testify-possibly prevent her conviction. Testify-save his own career.	Testifies.	Hannah Carter’s life.

This chart goes on for twelve more rows with Aiden taking actions and having his world react unexpectedly, which then causes him to take more actions where more and more is risked. It is that far-right column that gives the story it’s drama. My “What is risked” column progresses from “university honor status,” through things like “his identity,” “his secret power,” “his life,” “the entire planet.” As you go further down my risk column the stakes for Aiden get higher and higher until the largest possible thing is at stake.

I made this gap chart after I had written the manuscript. It helped me see my story in a way that was much more useful than a mere outline of the plot. It’s one of the most important writing exercises I’ve ever done.

For me it had to be part of the rewrite, but a different writer might benefit from doing this exercise at the outset. Some entry soon I’ll write a few words on the plotting vs. pantsing question.

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chart, gap chart, inspiration, Prosorinos, Robert McKee, Story