Don’t you love it when you’re writing a scene in your head, and you overhear some strangers’ conversation, and a word in it becomes a catalyst that accelerates and expands the scene you’re writing?
Oh, yeah.
Arrows & Cut-ups
After writing and editing yesterday, I came across an article about the book, “The Naked Lunch”. It’d been decades since I read it, so I researched it to refresh my recollections. And I was curious about how the Beat Generation came to have that name, so I looked it up.
Before that, I’d been thinking about how my “Incomplete States” trilogy reminds me of “The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant,” mostly on a reflection of the complexity and patience required to read through and develop the plot. Then, reading about Burroughs, I found descriptions of the “cut-up technique,” and that struck home with my trilogy’s structure. I don’t use a full cut-up technique of slicing two separate pages and combining them down the middle, but the vignettes – “routines,” as Burroughs called them when discussing “The Naked Lunch” – works as a beginning to explain my trilogy’s structure. My trilogy is a cut-up of lives and routines.
And of course, there’s a little bit of “The Chronicles of Amber” in here, too, and some “Foundation.”
After that thinking, as I wound down for the day, I played with my arrows of time again, creating and labeling new diagrams based on the original diagrams. That was a reassuring exercise, reminding me about time’s fluid nature, and the basic assumptions I used as the trilogy’s concept. The reassurance was needed because I’d veered toward panic about some decisions made when finishing the first novel. I want to be true to my vision, and not mislead readers, and I was afraid that I’d gone astray.
In the end, I felt satisfied that I hadn’t. Maybe I was just rationalizing that to myself. More likely, the stab of anxiety is a natural reflection of the challenge of coping with the trilogy’s complexity.
Onward. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.
In Retrospect
I suppose that the best part of finishing writing a novel’s first draft is that my coffee consumption will drop for a few days.
After the Fun
I’m at that point with the first novel in the “Incomplete States” trilogy that I’m almost finished.
Finished is as relative a term as happy. I’m finishing with the fun part of the novel, the writing process. Once the entire trilogy is completed, I’ll need to endure the work processes of having it edited, cover design, and the other accoutrements to publishing it as a finished work. It all reminds me a quote.
“I love being a writer, what I can’t stand is the paperwork.” ~ Peter De Vries
That about sums it up. I love discovering the labyrinths of logic and plot as I stalk characters from the story’s beginning to its end, although it sometimes feel like the characters are stalking me. Yes, there is satisfaction in capturing it all on paper on on a computer; capturing the words help me more fully develop what the characters are seeing and experiencing, and allows a fuller enjoyment.
But the paperwork also includes editing and re-wording, polishing and refining. I’ve learned to enjoy those aspects more, but I’d rather be writing. So ponying up to the computer to finish writing this tome is not that exciting. I know that I’m just finishing a phase of creating a novel and trilogy. More work is required.
Realization that finishing the first draft is nigh reminds me that I don’t have a celebration ritual. I don’t smoke a cigarette or sip a glass of champagne, or throw a party. Other than, “Yea, me!” posts like this, I don’t say anything to anyone in particular. If someone happens to ask, “What have you been doing?”, I might say, “Finished the first draft of a novel this week.” They usually respond, “That’s terrific. What’s it about?” “Well, shit, why don’t you write it and find out?”, I don’t say. I sort of mentally shrug, smile, and present a label. “It’s science fiction.”
I have studied touchdown dances to see if any of those will work. I’m not a demonstrative person, though. I prefer lurking under the surface like a crocodile, only coming out when forced by necessity. Lurking creates less social and emotional entanglements.
Playing with these thoughts more deeply, I conclude writers and other artists, like musicians and actors, might understand my state of mind. I think this because I think they more fully comprehend the process and the unsaid trappings beneath the process. Many people I meet either oversimplify what it takes to write and publish a novel and shrug it off as “No big deal,” unless you’re a name, or they gush too much about what an accomplishment it is. That renders me uneasy. Yes, I recognize the incongruity and paradox inherent in my state. Writers are more likely to just say, “Congratulations! Well done!” And that pleases me most.
What about all of you other writers out there? How do you celebrate — or react, or behave — when you finish the novel’s first draft?
Okay, time to get going and finish this beast. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.
Writing Weight
I have my coffee, and know my mission. I’m in position, and yet, I hesitate.
I know this neighborhood. Been here before.
It’s a big chapter I’m about to begin, a tipping point, the climax to this novel, and the setup to pivot to the next one. I’ve been thinking about this chapter and its scenes for weeks without writing anything, building all the bridges to it, and expanding and clarifying my vision of it. I hesitate to start it today because, it’s a big chapter, an important chapter. Looking into my magic writing mirror, I see a lot of hard work in it.
We have found the crux. I think of writing as fun and entertaining, a diversion from the mundane. The most mundane slice of life to me is the wedge we call work. Work is how I’ve come to see this chapter, so I’m avoiding it.
I’m also avoiding it because I expect so much of it for the rest of the novel. As written before this, I’ve burdened this chapter with a lot of weight. My ambitions, self-confidence, and determination all sag under that weight. That pesky question, can I do it, festers in my mind.
I think many writers go through this. I think this is where some crumble. This is like the big show because, hey, the novel’s end is in sight. Yowza. The end naturally carries greater significance and tension. This is the final exam, the championship game, the big moment. Everything else has led to this point. All these threads must be tied together. I began this manuscript in July of twenty sixteen. A lot of work, and energy went into creating this manuscript.
No, not true. I started this trilogy in July of twenty sixteen, and wrote the first novel, which is the second book in the series. That took from July of last year to September of twenty seventeen. I didn’t start the novel I’m finishing now until October of twenty-seventeen. That was less than three months ago, as I started it on October tenth. So, its three hundred-ninety pages and one hundred thousand words were quickly written.
As is often the case, I started writing in the middle of the tale I’m telling. I seized upon a concept, and visualized settings, characters, and action, and began. Then I approached the logic and the arcs. The answer to why appears a lot as I’m writing in that phase. In trying to answer the question, I figure out that I’ve started in the middle.
That doesn’t bother me. As long as I find a starting point and can create a beginning and an end to the novel or series, where I begin writing is immaterial. I suspect, too, that I’ll end up with several chapters from this one visualize. That’s the nature of my writing process.
And it’s funny. I’ve been through this before. Yeah, I know this neighborhood. I’ve written and finished nine, ten novels? Yet, I still experience this process. It’s fresh every time.
Okay, I’ve unburdened myself. Writing about my fears and doubts, and where I’m at, have again released them, carrying me to the point that I’m ready to write.
Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.
Messy Creativity
After yesterday’s writing like crazy session, I walked away preoccupied by the random messiness. It’s like, I’m baking a cake and have some of the ingredients, but I’m not sure which ones I have, and what else is needed.
Or, it’s like debugging code without knowing where you’re at in the program.
It’s like walking through a strange room in the dark with little idea about which way to go.
Yes, I’m a pantser when it comes to writing. I’m an organic writer. Unscripted, or semi-scripted. I suppose the outlining writing tribes would tell me, “Outlining can solve your problems.”
That’s perhaps true, but I like my messy creative process. It’s fun to be surprised by a scene’s direction. I have no doubt that writers that outline will say, “Having an outline doesn’t mean that you can’t be surprised by what you write and how a scene turns out.”
Okay, you have me there. I just like the messy process. That’s one possibility. The second is that I’m not patient enough to write an outline. I become too impatient. Likewise, perhaps I’m too undisciplined to use an outline. More likely, it’s all of these things. But I believe that after trying to write outlines first, and suffering, I just stumbled on this messy process, and find it works. In the end, what works is what matters.
Got my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.
Beautiful and Terrifying
In today’s writing metaphor, I’m weaving a trilogy.
I’ve been writing here in the coffee shop for two hours. I still have three-quarters of my drink remaining.
Sitting down to write, I opened a floodgate to the dam of words – sorry, another metaphor – and they gushed out. Again came an unanticipated scene, and a surprising pivot. With it came more tangible substance about the third novel, and what’s to happen in it. And with that, I began writing the third novel of the “Incomplete States” trilogy (previously known as “Long Summer”). Still have some to write with the first novel to complete the initial draft, though. I was reluctant to do it, and that’s when the weaving metaphor arrived.
Novel three didn’t have a working title. Creating the Word doc, I just called it Book Three. I didn’t want to slow down to think of a title. I just wanted to get those words into the computer. Between books one and three, I wrote one chapter in book one, and the kernal of a chapter in book three, about thirty-two hundred words total.
It’s been an excellent day of writing like crazy. It’s fucking exciting, even though it’s also sometimes beautiful but terrifying. I put it like that because I see and know the scenes and the arcs, but I don’t know the words and the details, and I worry that I’ll lose them before the trilogy is finished. It became such an intense experience that sometimes I needed to get up and walk around to vent enough energy to focus and type.
It’s fun and exciting, too, being in these stories with these characters, on vivid other worlds and starships. Sometimes, it feels like I’m there, experiencing it through them, and then returning to this life to record what happened. Crazy, right?
Yes. I guess that’s a side-effect of writing like crazy.
Total Sense
After finishing one chapter, I bought a fresh cuppa coffee and began the next chapter. I’m excited. I know what to write, although, again, imagination and characters have taken me into unexpected directions.
Mixed in with my thoughts about writing this novel are a host of other matters to attend. I’ve been procrastinating about them, and worrying about them, even as I urge myself, “Just fucking do it.” And then, without warning, my dream about the cookies, and the job interview (to sell cookies) comes into focus. Understanding blooms. I know what it means, and it surprises me, but also makes me happy.
It’s just fascinating how our brains and minds work on so many levels. Been a great day of writing like crazy. Just a little more to do today, and then I’ll call it.
The Writing Dream
I was in a busy, well-lit place that seemed home and office. Dozens of others were present, including my wife. People ) were milling around, talking to one another, examining my possessions – for it’s then that I realized it was my place – and offering desultory comments on my writing and past efforts. One odd-looking man, heavy, with slick, black receding hair and a black mustache and goatee on a bullet-head thrust onto a stout neck, was most outspoken. He mocked my collection of past writing efforts, done in the initial years in lab notebooks, saying things such as, “What is this stuff? What is it?”
I tried ignoring him as my wife talked to me. I was sitting at my computer at a table. Her comments confused me. I sought clarification. She was trying to talk to me about another manuscript of mine, telling me, “No, that other one. You know the one I mean.”
Finally, I stood. Walking over to the odd-looking guy, I said, “Stop talking about my fucking writing. You don’t know what you’re talking about. Don’t say another fucking word.”
He stumbled off, red-faced and shocked.
End of dream.
Arrows of Time
I enjoyed this PBS article regarding the arrows of time. The article points (sorry, couldn’t resist) to conclusions I achieved on my thinking regarding the arrows of time formed when a wave-function collapses, back in March, 2017, when I filled twenty pages in my lab notebook with scribbling, after doing several days of research.
Of course, my writing is predicated on thinking and conclusions physicists developed through decades of thinking. I was just building on the backs of others. This article helps with confirmation that the thinking is sound.
My writing and thinking was part of the development of the Chi-particle. A Chi-particle has imaginary mass and energy, and travels faster-than-light, gaining real mass and energy as it slows. It’s also a necessary device for “Incomplete States,” my current trilogy in progress. Book One (“Kyrios) is nearing completion, while Book Two (“Moment”), featuring space-pirates, is almost finished. That just leaves Book Three!
Lots of fun to think and write about these things.
Michael Seidel, writer 