Category: writing

The System Connections

I took an unplanned writing break. One of those things called death interrupted the usual progression.

A family member died. It was expected, sooner or later. The sooner seemed to be getting closer but it came as a surprise. She’d been hospitalized with flu, pneumonia, congested heart and lungs, things complicated by her Parkinson’s disease. We were originally certain, this might be it, but that morning the doctors said, “Hey, she’s doing better. She can probably leave the hospital in two or three days.” They were wrong. She left that day, but she was no longer alive.

I shut down the writing component in my brain. I know this about myself: the writing component demands a lot of energy. It puts me in another place, but removes me from the moment. Being removed from the moment means that my patience and empathy become compromised. That wouldn’t do. So, shut it down, I ordered.

The writing component was kept shut down for three days. I was given writing time but chose not to indulge it. I knew what it would mean. I took the time to think of life and other matters instead of writing.

What I didn’t expect were the side-effects. I slept miserably, tossing and turning way more than the usual. I also didn’t dream, or didn’t recall any dreams, and I seemed a lot hungrier. I never felt rested.

I imagined the chemical and physiological reasons probably contributing to my side-effects. The drugs my body releases through the creative process and writing. The highs achieved, the flow of neurotransmitters and their interactions, and why writing is an addiction.

I kept the writing component off until today. Notifications of the death are completed. Grieving has commenced and progressed. Funeral and burial arrangements have been made.

When I turned the writing component back on, it was a deluge. Whoomp. I was slammed with words and thoughts to write.

Interesting experience. Fascinating, to me, at least. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

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How Cool

I’d finished my writing and was doing my post-writing walk. Going up Main Street, I passed the Starbucks. A woman was reading at a table. I glanced up, stopped, and stared.

Yes, she was reading my book.

I was pleased.

She looked at me.

“Sorry,” I said. “I was trying to see what you’re reading.”

She glanced at the cover. “I just started it last night. I’m not familiar with the author.”

It took a lot for me to reply, “Well, I feel I should warn you that I’m the author so that you don’t accidentally insult me. Now that you know, you can deliberately insult me.”

She said, “No way. Are you really?”

“Yes. You probably got the book from one of the little libraries around town.”

“No, my friend gave it to me. Maybe she got it from a little library. She finished reading it and thought I would enjoy it.”

We chatted a little longer about the book and the little libraries, and my other novels. I didn’t know her or her friend. I walked away thinking, “How cool is that?” I was so pleased and engrossed, I almost walked in front of a car.

That would have definitely not have been cool.

7

Olympic Gold

Sometimes when I’m writing, I think about taking a break from the process. 

I’m thinking about that now, thinking, when I finish the first draft of this quadrilogy, I might take a break.

Yes, I’m almost at the end, and I’m tired of writing it, so it’s natural to think, I want a break. Focusing on the moving parts and the characters’ activities is intense and takes intellectual energy that straps my other energies.

Then, I realize, yes, I’m tired of writing that series, a series I’ve been working on since July of 2016. Not long, you say? Yes, but this is the first draft, and there’s work to be done on other projects. I deliberately choose not to work on other writing projects to focus on the complexity. I want to write them.

Then there’s the madness.

The madness is the standard writer’s angst about what has been done and what remains against the filter of, does this fucking work? Will others read it and think, “This guy is an idiot.” Worse, they’ll say, “He’s a talentless, pathetic hack.”

These words, coming through me from imaginary others, are wearying. I combat them by assuring myself that I don’t know if that’s how others will react, and reflect on why they might think that way – what makes me worry that they might think that way. 

It’s complicated, this writing business, done alone in shadows. Sometimes the shadows grab us, and tear us down.

But then, in saner, stiller moments, I read what I’ve written, and find myself engrossed by it, and pleased. Then I encourage myself, “There’s probably other nuts out there who like the kind of fiction you write because they share your taste in fiction.”

I hope to hell that’s true, I answer myself, but I don’t really sound convinced. I sound more like a person who left a job interview and answers, “How did it go?” with, “I think it went pretty good.”

Yeah.

Others will say, “Wow, you wrote a book. You wrote four books in that time, four books as part of one series? That’s amazing. Congratulate yourself.”

Well, yeah, that’s all nice, thanks. But that’s like getting to the Olympics and not winning a medal. See, a goal has been set. It’s not enough to write a draft, but to get it edited, published, and out there, and then have others read it, and enjoy it.

That’s the Olympic gold.

Yes, I can settle for less, but why limit myself? I’m putting time and energy into writing these novels. Yes, I’m afraid that others will not like many aspects of it, but there’s no reason for me not believe that I can’t take home the gold. Dare to dream, right? Put that dream out there in front of you, and try.

Others will say, “Hey, that’s beyond your control. You’re putting needless pressure on yourself.”

Yes, I tend to be my worst critic, that I know. (Maybe others are staying politely quiet.)  I know my flaws, shortcomings, failures, and mistakes, and can rip them off without a breath to think. Plus, you know, I’m a little down with health issues affecting friends and family. That is another variable in the equation.

I’d been writing like crazy for seventy-five minutes before taking this break to gain some distance, perspective and sanity. I’m hungry, and I’m thinking about sandwiches, and pie. I’ve only drunk about twenty percent of my cup of coffee, having put my head down and fingers to the keyboard. Stop, or go on? I ponder, decreasing the amount of remaining coffee by another twenty percent.

My stomach wins. It always does.

It always gets the gold.

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Ray Said It

Saw this today in passing and love the sentiment. I feel this way, that without writing, reality would reduce me to a blithering idiot (yeah, just stop what you’re thinking right now). I feel that I’m addicted to writing, but that’s okay; I feed it, and it feeds me.

To paraphrase Ray, time again to write like crazy, and get high on words and ideas.

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Post Writing Writing

Yesterday was an excellent writing session. I walked away still writing in my mind. I’d reached a natural ending point for the chapter, but was then left mulling, what happens next? Meanwhile, I had other chapters in mind to write. Most of them were bridges, pivots, and place-holders.

Bridges, pivots, and place-holders are my terms. Someone in literature has probably developed more formal terms, but it’s how I see it, and I go with it. Action scenes often come in flashes, and I write them fast, to capture the lightning. Then they’re edited.

They’re not linear, though, and they’re often not connected to the main body of action at that point. That’s where a bridge or a pivot comes into play. A bridge links two or more action scenes; a pivot turn from one course of activity (or thought, or string of events) to another.

Then there is the place-holder. That’s a poor name for it. This piece of the novel is explanatory material, as exposition, dialogue, of stream of thought, for what has happened, and what the characters think is going to happen. My characters can’t be trusted in this regard. Some are like me, and try to analyze what’s happened to this point and predict what will happen next, but they’re woefully under-informed, so it’s garbage-in, garbage-out.

As I walked after writing yesterday, an audacious twist struck me. It so surprised me, I laughed out loud as I walked along the street. The energy of the idea made me walk faster as the flash scene developed, and then the structures of the pivot, bridge and place-holder scenes jumped into being. By the time I sat down with my coffee to write this morning, I just needed to recall what I wrote in my head on the previous day. The biggest challenge of today’s writing session was keeping up. I’m a fast typist, but not fast enough to keep up with thinking.

Again, I ended up spent, in a good way. I’d stopped at a natural point once again, but a lot of words and scenes remained to be written that I’d already written in my head.

I love it when this happens, but it’s not always like this. I take advantage of it as I can. Eventually, knowing myself and my writing habits, I’ll reach a point that I won’t really know what to write. Then I’ll walk away to think about it. I’ll hopefully begin writing in my head again, because lightning often does strike more than once. If not, I’ll read and edit what I’ve already written. That usually triggers a natural flow of more words.

Meanwhile, the sessions of the last two days are a little different than usual. I’m reaching the end of the novel, and the series. That awareness causes a different tension in the writing sessions as I actively ask myself, is this really going to be the end? Will the ending work?

In such sessions, my thinking and writing focus narrows and sharpens. Even as I do that, other potentials for this series hang on the horizon, because that’s the nature of creativity and my writing process. Ideas rarely stand alone. It’s more like the classic process of thesis, antithesis, synthesis triad.

I’m careful not to look too closely at what’s on the horizon right now. Number one, I want to finish and publish this series of four books. Number two, other projects are in the wings.

This one must be completed so I can go on to them. I’m done writing like crazy, at least for today.

 

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Back When

Back when I needed  a new character, I cast a net for who they were. I found he was male, and a scientist. I named him Professor Kything in honor of the communication technique L’Engle employed in “A Wrinkle In Time.”

I didn’t know much about my new character. I’m an organic writer. I knew he would grow into something, but when I introduced him, he was a minor character, essentially a cardboard prop at the moment.

He grew, though, as my primary hero encountered him. As I developed a description, he became based on a person I used to work with. A senior research and development engineer, my co-worker managed to be smarmy, arrogant, and condescending in almost every encounter with me, usually with a smirk. Since my new character was evolving into a major villain, remembering this former co-worker was very helpful. He was supposed to be a deep thinker, but the certainty of his own knowledge kept him from thinking too deeply. He was dismissive of others instead of working with them to advance ideas, and he was conceited, a womanizer, and a liar.

Most of my characters aren’t based on one person. They’re typically composites of others I know (including me), so this guy, being based on one person, is different. When using composites, I generally think about how one of the composites that I know would react in the situation. That helps me stay consistent, even when the person I base them on is inconsistent and unpredictable, which translate to the same for my character and their behavior.

My cultured dislike for the fellow behind Professor Kything works well for this villain. I’m posting about him today because he was active and smug yesterday, crowing about how much smarter he is than others, and he’s going to be exposed today for the fool that he is.

Sweet.

Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

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Flashes

You ever been doing something innocuous, like cleaning the cat box (and thinking, I would be rich if cat crap was worth anything) when writing flashes strike?

Happened to me today. Suddenly, scenes fill me. Gaps are bridged, with the story advancing on multiple fronts, like a creative offensive has been launched in my head.

Everything else is squeezed out for time to make room for dialogue, settings, and action scenes. It’s a struggle to keep up, like I’m in the center of several movies playing simultaneously. An impetus to rush off to write seizes me.

But the creative explosion wasn’t limited to writing and the current WIP. Writing is the largest beneficiary. While scenes for the current work in progress proliferate, so do a multitude of new ideas for other concepts in play, and fresh ideas. Catfinitions, those silly ideas involving cats and weak word play, pour in. Ideas for organizing and cleaning spring up like weeds after a rain. My overall energy levels surge. I feel powerful, confident, excited, and optimistic.

Got my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

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Squirrelly Writing Session

Today’s writing session was weirdly structured (or unstructured). I’d write a few pages in the novel, and then my brain would squirt some random idea out. Like a dog addicted to chasing squirrels, I’d pursue that idea until the squirrel was gone, edit what I’d written, and then resume writing.

I attribute the randomness to conversations with friends yesterday about quantum mechanics and brains (and consciousness), and dreams I had last night. But even with the squirrel breaks, it was a satisfying and engaging day of writing like crazy.

Time to stop writing like crazy for today and squirrel off to do something else.

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The Writing Processes

I enjoy reading about other writers and their processes. I’m primarily reading for ideas that I can incorporate or adapt into my processes, but I’m also curious about others’ takes on their creative processes. I’m often amused when people insist that writers must outline, or something like that. I tried outlining; it didn’t work for me. I felt that outlining drained the fun and creativity from my writing processes.

I was thinking about this today because I reached a pivot point. Writing organically, I’m journeying without a map. I like journeying without a map. I feel like an explorer crossing a new continent. Explorers decide, “There’s the sun; we’re following this river and heading that way for now. Let’s see where it goes.” I adapt that as, “There’s the ending; we’re following this path heading that way for now. Let’s see where it goes.”

Sometimes, as accounts of explorers will tell you, wrong turns are taken. Blind paths that lead to nowhere are followed. Yet, it’s not a loss, because they’ve expanded their body of knowledge.

That happens with me and my characters, too. They take a turn none of us expected. I don’t just follow then, though. I stop and ask, “Wait a moment. Where is this going? Are we sure we want to follow this path?”

As I’m also a non-linear writer, I’ll sometimes take a few days to write about other aspects while I think over the new potential path. By non-linear, I mean that I don’t write the novel in the order that the story is told, nor in the order of its final finish. I’m usually filling in expository bridges between action scenes during these periods. Action scenes, being sharper and more intense, come quickly, like a flash flood. In fact, I call it flash writing. A sudden inspiration strikes. It follows the general sense already created, so I let the flood happen. Other flash floods often occur in sequence as these major points are seen and grasped. After writing down their essentials, I edit and polish them, add details, and make changes for coherency and consistency.

By that point, they’re raw pearls. I want a necklace. Bridge scenes help me strand them together.

Sometimes, I make huge leaps. There’s an epiphany, and I spring forward to write it before I lose it. This is when I most feel like the novel already exists, and I’m just taking dictation.

Meanwhile, I write posts like this to help me understand what I think. As I thought about this little post and wrote it, my subconscious mind thought over the new piece and offered me some tent poles.

That caused a short interlude here as I explored the tent poles. I came to see how this new piece wasn’t all that new, but a latent piece I’d previously ignored. Indeed, I’d made a small reference to it once, back in the first volume’s first quarter. I’d flash-written some scenes without thinking about how to strand them together, but subconsciously, pieces were being put together. I just needed to remain persistent, let my mind work, accept what it gave me, and go for it. That, I think, sums up the whole writing like crazy philosophy.

I’ve got my coffee. Its smell helps me focus, its caffeine stimulates my creative energies, and it’s a component of my writing session routine. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

4

Beginnings and Ends

As a writer, do you ever thing that every day is a new beginning and has a new end? Yes, but isn’t that true for everything? Once you’re done for the day, you start again tomorrow. Problems arise when you don’t start again.

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