Tag: characters

Learning From Writing

I’ve been working on the yard this week. It’s a personal Möbius strip. Cut the front grass, edge, weed, trim. Cut the back grass, edge, weed, trim. Weed, trim, and edge the side yards. Trim back the neighbors’ trees and bushes. Begin again.

I know, it’s my choice to have a lawn and do all of this. I can hire others. I can zeroscape. I’ve considered both. Or I can let the lawn go to hell.

We don’t use weedkillers or anything artificial on our lawn. The weeds multiply. Out come yellow dandelions. We accept them because bees and butterflies love them. I leave the dandelions when I pull the weeds. Well, mostly. I try to keep them at a reasonable number.

I like the yardwork. In a world where projects take so long to accomplish and we rarely see tangible results, the yardwork provides me with satisfaction that I did something. I also like being outside, and sweating, exerting myself, and feeling the sun and wind. It’s great.

Yardwork also frees my writing mind. Not much thought is required for yardwork, and that lets me think about writing and the work in progress.

I had a surprising epiphany about all of that yesterday. I thought, I don’t understand people. I don’t get their thinking. I struggle to understand their motivations.

I know these aren’t simple questions. Adrenalin rushes and endorphin highs contribute to the pursuit of our fixes. Financial gain, self-esteem, respect, and admiration can contribute. The need for revenge provides some stimulus to people, as does immaturity and warped views and skewed memories. Motivations are complex formulas.

I thought, I don’t understand people, and that’s what I like to write. When I write, I can explore the characters’ inner worlds. I can study their thinking and moods, relationships and memories. My future technology lets them have augmented memories and enhanced communications. Technological capabilities blend with organic skills to blur the lines. Personal scanning technology lets measurements of micro-changes in another person’s temperatures, heart rates, pupils and other biological indicators help detect lies. In more sophisticated people, these things can and are masked to trick others through technology.  Sometimes, it’s like a technological chess match.

Writing about these characters help me learn. From them, it’s reaffirmed that humans are complicated. Matters such as truth and motivation are rarely black and white subjects. Skills like memories, self-awareness, and interpersonal communication vary immensely among people, but also in ourselves. We’re not always the same person today that we were yesterday. Allegiances waver. Certainty wobbles. Hopes sink and rise.

Now, with that cleared up for me, I have my coffee. Time to write like crazy, at least one more time.

3

Off-kilter

My writing world is a little off-kilter this morning. I’m again doubting that the muses and characters know what they’re doing. I suspect they’re conning me.

The muses and characters agree about what’s to be written, what’s happening, and what’s to come next. “Trust us,” they purr.

I’m jaundiced about their plans. “Seems like we’re going around in a bac.”

“A what?”

“Bac. ” I spelled it, “B.A.C. Big-ass circle.”

“Writers,” one muse mumbled to a character (Brett), who nodded back with an eye-roll. They didn’t care that I’d witnessed this, implying a disrespect that I didn’t like.

“We know what we’re doing,” another muse said, like a young mother speaking to her mother about the way she’s raising her child. “Just follow our guidance.”

“I am,” I said. “If you could let me in on a little more, I’d feel more comfortable about I’m typing.”

Several muses and characters unloosed scoffing sounds while another muse said, “We don’t want to burden you with too much.”

“I’m the writer here,” I said. “Shouldn’t I know where the story is going?”

“You do know,” one muse said.

“Yes, you know how it’s ending, don’t you?” said another muse.

Handley, a character, “Nothing personal, but we don’t want to give you too much to juggle. You already seem a little strained by the novel’s direction.”

“It’s more than a novel, it’s become a series,” I said.

“Exactly,” Handley said. “And there’s a great deal more material available that we could give you, but you seem tired of writing this.”

“Yes,” a muse said. “You’re weary of writing this, doubtful of the content, dubious of your skill and talent, and worried that you’re pulling a Wonderboys.”

I clamped my lips tight for a second before speaking. “None of that’s germane to this conversation. While that’s all true, that doesn’t change that right now, it seems like you guys are leading me in a — ”

“Big-ass circle,” a muse said. “Yes, we know.”

Realizing that I wasn’t going to win this discussion, and that the muses and characters weren’t going to tell me more until they thought I was ready for it, I finished my walk, purchased my coffee, and set up to write.

Time to write like crazy and see where the characters and muses take me. Do you know that the muses have never told me their names?

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After the Revelations

This is not how I thought writing would go.

I had a romanticized, glamorized vision about the writing process and a novelist’s life. I thought I would be dictating the story, making it up and writing it down. Instead, here we go again. Philea finishes her wide-ranging tale and brings it back to the moment where it split away,  and joins two other paths. One path was forged by Pram when he told his part of this story, and the other path was forged by the six primary characters on the Wrinkle.

I’ve been waiting for this re-connecting. I’d seen and heard, experienced, if you will, what they were going to say and do once they came back together. Honestly, Philea’s side-trip astonished me. She went into a life that I didn’t know existed. It’s also surprising that it startled her as much as it startled me.

But, at last her side-trip is done. It’s time for those long-awaited next scenes. But before I go into writing those scenes, I need to soak in what Philea and the other characters experienced. She and Pram shared more examples of parallel life-experience-reality-existences — a LERE, their shorthand for other Now events that that lived (or are living) and share with the rest trapped in this cycle.

They’re trying to understand what will happen to them. They’re attempting to take a piece of information and fit it in with other pieces of information to create a substantive, believable cause and effect tale for what they’re enduring. That’s human nature, to fill in the gaps, color them with some form of logic or explanation, and make it all whole.

I feel for them, pitying them, because I know that’s not their nature. That’s not what they’re living. Even as they draw closer to the truth, sometimes even stating it in incredulous terms as a possibility, the six don’t always agree on the verbiage or logic. The logic argues against their standard expectations about reality, existence, and the arrows of time. Besides, not all of their experiences will support the truth, in their minds, because they don’t remember everything that they experience. Remembering more answers less by introducing more complexity and gaps. At this point, I think all readers will understand that.

So listening  to — hah, typing — my characters’ struggle to resolve these new fragments of information, I really feel for them. The passages of their thoughts and dialogue that I’ve typed leave me oddly reflective.

That’s a first, raw, impression. On greater thought, it’s not leaving me oddly reflective. Instead, I’m taking what I learned through my characters’ learning, and applying it to my existence, here in the real world.

We’re all pieces. We see ourselves as pieces that comprise a whole. Yet, few of us ever fit fully, completely, and comfortably. And when one of us goes, we struggle to see the new whole, because we remember the whole that we knew, and lament its changes. We search for answers and rarely find closure and resolution. We remain wondering.

With these notes softly echoing in my mind, I sip the final dregs of cold coffee and end my day of writing like crazy.

4

Cringe Writing

Philea continued to dominate my recent writing sessions. During yesterday’s effort, she took me down paths that had me cringing. It wasn’t the sort of stuff that I generally write. It was contrary enough to my normal voice and style that I considered whether it should be continued. I wondered if she’d breach the series’ borders and was taking off into the wrong direction.

This prompted a guidelines review in my post writing walk. They were good reminders.

  1. Write like crazy. I’m still finishing this book and series. (The series is Incomplete States, and this novel, the fourth, is Good-bye, Hello.) Basically, open the doors, portals, floodgates, valves, lit the fuse, whatever metaphor works, and let it go. Editing is for later, when it’s all done.
  2. The characters are allowed latitude to explore themselves and the story. This has the additional benefit of allowing me to explore the story and characters.
  3. I’m an organic writer. While I know where I expect to end up, the paths I follow are being created as I go. That’s the same with the characters. A compass is used to keep us going in the correct general direction, making corrections as necessary.
  4. Let the readers decide. Readers bring all kinds of conceptions and ideas to stories they’re reading. They find their own interpretation of truths and myths, and apply them. They won’t all enjoy the same books, or even the same parts of a book.

That last point, about readers deciding, emerged from early critique groups. I’d noticed several biases develop in a writing group. Not surprising, as they’re all readers before they’re writers.

  1. Some like to be told everything. They don’t want any gaps in what was said or happened. They don’t want it to be abstract. Others prefer that their imagination fill in the gaps, or that, this is like life, and we don’t always know all of the answers.
  2. Some writers/readers like a leisurely style. The want to slow down and breath in the atmosphere.
  3. Some prefer style over substance, or substance over style. 

I tend to write in a very active voice. It’s my preferred voice. But, I use multiple POV (sometimes first person, but third person dominates). In giving latitude to characters, I notice some of them don’t like a direct, active voice.

After thinking about that, I realize, well, of course. I don their skins and minds when writing from their POV. When I do that, I try staying true to them and their voice. Just like real individuals, they have styles of observing, thinking (and applying knowledge and lessons learned), interacting, and taking action. They carry emotional and physical baggage. These traits direct their voice when the story is being told via their POV.

This wasn’t something I developed on my own. I’m always developing on other writers’ shoulders. This specific point came through an epiphany I had while reading J. Franzen’s The Corrections about fifteen years ago. I later cemented my impressions while reading Wally Lamb, Michael Chabon, Louise Erdrich, Tana French, Kate Atkinson, and others.

Of course, in a qualifying pause, I change up styles to reflect pacing and tension. I use shorter sentences and words in confrontational scenes, epiphanies, fights, and arguments. That brevity contributes to a more direct and intense feel, speaking for myself — yeah, it’s my blog post, right, so who else could I be speaking (or writing) for? — as a reader and a writer. Your preferences might vary.

As a reader, I’m not married to any one style. I like enjoying books and taking what I can from every one of them. Many books end up surprising me, and I like that most of all, as a writer and a reader.

So I cringed and wrote Philea’s part about Holes and The Stipulations. I won’t predict whether it’ll make it into the published version.

Time to get back to writing like crazy, at least one more time. 

 

 

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Startled Again

Once again, the characters knew what was happening. Following the action, I typed.

While all were heading for the same ending, the characters took different paths. Where they frequently demand attention for themselves like hungry little kittens, today, the characters were coordinated about who should go when. “Start and type this chapter,” one said, and that was done. “Continue with this chapter,” another said when the first was finished, and that was done. Meanwhile, the revelations made and the other characters and points they introduced surprised me — again. They talked about things that I’d never considered, leading me into directions that caused me to say, “Wow.”

Two thousand words later, after intense typing, I told them, “I need to stop.” My ass was asleep, for one. My coffee remained, cold and oily, and my stomach announced it was empty and required something be put into it. But beyond those prosaic matters, I wanted to revel in the characters’ revelations. It’s embarrassing and humbling to make this admission, but it’s like I’ve been reading some terrific book, but strangely, it’s the one I’m writing.

I should put that in quotes, as it honestly felt like I was transcribing what I saw and heard. It’s surreal. I suppose I should be jaded by this process by now, but it still strikes me as a surreal experience. It still amazes me. It’s still fun.

I know that I’m not the only writer who experiences writing in this manner. I’m probably the only one who regularly gushes about it in blog posts. I have read other posts where the blogger is skeptical that my sort of process happens. They doubt that I can’t know what the characters know. That’s writing, though, a different process for all of us.

Enough. Done writing like crazy, for at least one more day.

2

The Intersection

I dreamed about my work in progress last night, specifically about the story-line now being addressed. My mind, being what it is, inserted me sometimes, so that I was part of the story. My mind, being what it is, would see that I was dreaming about my writing and including myself as a character, and then try to untangle me from the fiction being written. “I’m the writer. I’m not supposed to be in this story.” That would lead to dream-confusion among the dream participants (dreampants?) about what was going on. It was really…interesting.

Which, after awakening to think about it, demonstrates an intriguing intersection between who I am and how much I put of myself in my writing. Even when I deliberately decide to have a character do or speak in ways that I wouldn’t, that choice is based on what I’d be doing. My characters are composites of other people, but I’m essentially imagining how those folks would respond. I don’t know, though. I don’t have a secret window into their lives. I guess at what they’d do, twisting their responses into madness and lies, and courage and hypocrisy, betrayal and honor, all based on what I think I’ve heard them say and do, and the character’s arc. You all know how unreliable we are as witnesses. We color it all.

But in there, in the intersection between my dreams and imagination, and my choices and decisions, is where my writing takes place. Sometimes it’s a large intersection – or even a roundabout, with too many cars traveling too fast, all trying to change lanes and enter and exit at the same time – and other times, it’s two small animal paths meeting in a quiet field. Whichever intersection it is, I sort it and write.

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

2

POV

Writing from multiple personal points of view as I like to do is a fascinating exercise. Each character has a different interior voice and private agenda. Less than putting them on, I marinate in them.

It’s engaging to explore them as their personalities emerge and these voices and agendas become stronger. The longer I marinate (write from their POV), the move they develop.

I have broad strokes about each. Kanrin is quiet, patient, and thoughtful. He likes to wait for more information before saying anything, and is careful about what he says. Richard is verbal, veers toward narcissism, and often becomes petulant, childish, and jealous, characteristics that make him unpredictable. Pram has less complexity and is action oriented. Not being able to act drives irritation and anger in him, facets that the others know about him, which cause them to worry about Pram and distrust him. (He knows it, and that angers him more.) Handley is younger and more mellow, with simpler needs, and Brett is a weary, older human who just wants to have a beer, chill out, and let the universe pass by.

Then we have Philea.

Philea is a scientist. Today’s writing unexpectedly took me through Philea’s thinking about chi-particles, qubits, unitary transformation, and quantum superpositions. Philea, a character that I supposedly created, is far more intelligent than me. I struggle to follow her thinking and put it into words.

I say I supposedly created Philea because it’s possible that she exists elsewhere (in another time or dimension), and what I’m writing as fiction is being channeled from another life elsewhere. That’s one possibility; another is that I’m just crazy. A third is that I have created Philea, and trying to think like her forces me into deeper focus and thinking, which can be done for a short period, but is ultimately unsustainable for me.

I’m agnostic about which of these are the truth. Perhaps they all are, in that I created her, which actually generated another universe of existence (sound familiar?), which then evolved, and is now feeding my thinking from her through a channel from that universe. Pondering it is fun, challenging, and harrowing.

Philea’s thinking has worn me out. Enough writing like crazy for today.

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Roll Call

Have you ever been writing and have to pause to take a roll call about which characters are where and what they’re doing during a scene?

“Let’s see, Kanrin, Richard, Handley, Forus Ker, and Brett are in here (the lounge on Wrinkle). It’s Richard’s POV. Handley (burger and tots) and Kanrin (chicken sandwich and coffee bulb) are eating. Forus Ker is standing and staying mute. Brett is sitting and drinking beer. Philea is in the command section (next chapter). Pram is in the cargo area (about to go Hulk) (two chapters away). Anyone missing? Nope, that’s the seven. The rest are all elsewhere.”

Okay, now that I have that straight….

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My Character & Me

It’s apparently spring in my novel, because I’m experiencing a revolt. No blood has yet spread across anything. I don’t think it will. We’re pretty civilized here. Civilized people don’t kill one another to get their way, except in fiction…right…?

The main character and I are wresting with what’s going on in the novel. He’s moving into this new direction. Heavily dependent on technology, he insists on exploring how the loss of personal technology influences his behavior. He has become mentally, physically, and emotionally weaker. Although he’s staying fit and slender, he’s aging, and his energy level is drooping. He does not have the level of control with which he’s accustomed to living.

But he’s not seeing that in his people. Without technology, individuality is sprouting. His people see and hear better than him. Many have higher energy levels. Some are becoming bullies. While bullying had been psychologically and socially influenced over the course of time from now until the future, and diminished through socializing, technology in their recent history, those safeguards and safeties were removed when their nanotechnologies were removed.

Other emerging trends among his force are disturbing him. Binge drinking is becoming a problem. Without their sexes and free of their technology, people are becoming sexually active. Promiscuity is flowering. That’s causing jealousies and attachments that can affect discipline, good order, and the chain of command.

These changes, and how this unit copes with it, is the story, he insists. That’s what he believes should be written. I disagree; I sought more of an adventure story. I add elements of adventure, threats, and conflicts to increase that sense of adventure, but he keeps dragging me into psycho-analysis.

I dreamed about this problem last night. In the dream I was a military member on shift again. I’d been lazy and hadn’t completed the shift checklist. Hell, I didn’t know where to find it. I hadn’t inventoried the COMSEC materials, read the log, closed out the last log for the Zulu day, nor started another one, and shift change was coming on fast.

Anxiety suffused me; WTF was I going to do? 

Well, I started scrambling to make it right. But I was quickly sidetracked with my environment. It was disorganized, and poorly planned. I was appalled. Although I knew I was running out of time, organizing that place developed into my primary priority. Of course, once I did that, I developed a focus. Having a focus revitalized my energy level and determination, and wiped out my anxiety.

Pondering the dream this morning, I developed understanding that it wasn’t about my life, but the novel in progress. That bifurcation I experienced was causing anxiety because I didn’t know what the character was coming up with next. And, I’d developed him as a strong individual. I didn’t like seeing him losing his way.

Ah, hah, I understood, oh, there we go. This is about writing the novel in progress. My conflict with my character  —

Let’s put this more correctly. The change of direction in the novel from my original intention bothers me. With that, I’ve lost focus and energy. Thinking about this – because I write to help me think – I think my character is correct.

I know from reading others that many writers wrestle with characters taking over. Some dismiss it; they’re the writer, they’re in control, and they decree what gets onto the pages. I live and work through my characters on the pages. We’re partners more than master and puppet. Perhaps it’s due to my organic writing style, which, on reflection, can look as complicated as layers of spider and cobwebs. And it’s not like I haven’t been down this path before. I often begin with an idea that grows into something else.

Although it makes me uncomfortable, I’ll probably write what the character wants. Then I’ll edit it down to find a compromise we can live with.

Characters; they can be the worse.

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

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The Character and Me

I often develop relationships with my characters when I’m writing a novel. It’s not surprising for them to be with me at a movie. Sometimes, as I respond to something, I always think about how they would respond, as an exercise to better understand them.

This arrangement leads the characters to be vocal about what’s going on. When I struggle through a scene, it’s not surprising to discover that the character is doing something that they believe is contrary to what the would do. It’s an odd, true north alignment. I created, or discovered them; I believe I know them best. Yet, they will reject a path that they feel is wrong for them. Their rejection is displayed through a work slowdown.

That’s not what transpired this week. I was writing, and going along fine. Yet, several things that the character did or said bothered me. The writing didn’t suffer. It flowed with no problem or stoppages.

I considered this today while I was walking. Although I was surprised, and I shouldn’t be, the character explained why he wasn’t bothered by what was happening. His explanation opened an entire rue of thinking about the situation. I’d been thinking about that situation in terms of plot, story arc, and activity. The character has been reacting to how it affected him. 

I was pretty astonished and pleased. His explanation to me opened a new paragraph and facets of him and the situation that I’d overlooked. It’s exciting and stimulating.

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

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