For Those About to NaNoWriMo….

I never did the NaNoWriMo. It’s a terrific idea. It started in 1999 but I didn’t hear about it for a long time. By then, I’d established my writing habits, understood my preferences and was working full time for IBM and didn’t embrace the idea.For a long time, I believed there was one way to write and searched for the magic formula. The magic formula appeared to be research, plan, write, edit & revise, polish and publish. I’m being simple. The formula was much more complex.

So I worked hard on planning, researching, outlining. I created huge outlines, detailed drawings and maps, and entire histories of characters. After months and months of work, I’d have an enormous wealth of information, and nothing written. Discouraged, the next time I had an idea, I thought about it for a while. A scene came to me and I jumped in and started writing. I later discovered that others do that. As a process, it’s referred to organic writing, or being a pantser. I’m still refining my writing process but I’ve come a long, long, long way.

I admire those out there jumping into NaNoWriMo and salute you. Have fun.

The Progress Reports

“How’s the writing going?” I’m asked after a session.

“Did you have a good writing session?” another asks later.

“How’s the book coming along?” a companion queries me when I meet.

And I want to respond with a lot of information. I’ve written sixty thousand plus words. The book excites me. The ideas, characters and settings are all lively, energizing me when I sit down with it. That’s how it is on most days.

But some days, my writing sessions aren’t about the laptop’s clicking keys. Some days, I sit and talk to myself, or I’m walk and talk to myself. (Walking is a great way to write.) “Why did this happen? Because that happened. What did he do? What did she do? So what happens next with her?”

On those days, I’m likely to do a lot of spot editing and polishing, re-reading what was written about one of the story lines to find the path and generate enough light to look ahead to ‘what’s next’. Paradoxically, these are often the most exciting and enjoyable sessions because I’m solving a problem, and I also see clear progress of the novel being written. It’s all coming together. I’m assembling the puzzle, I’m learning the fuller story, and gaining greater understanding of my characters and the setting. I’m fortunate to write another 800-1,000 words on those days.

These sort of days prove, it’s not about the word count.

On all writing days (which is about three hundred sixty-one days of the year), though, I answer the questions with the same non-committal, almost laconic manner, “It’s going good.” I know they’re being polite and supportive. It’s like asking, “How is your day?” A full report isn’t expected, just a general summary, brief, if you please. We’re all just being polite. I hold back for the blog posts to wax more enthusiastically, but even there, I restrain myself. I’m just one of seven hundred gazillion writers posting and writing, gluing my sanity back together and casting the tea leaves, trying to make something out of the voices in my head who urge, “Write this down.”

But sometimes, when I’m writing, I can’t help myself, and I laugh out loud at what I thought or wrote. Nobody looks up, because, you know, I may look harmless, but I might be crazy. You can never tell.

They don’t know that I’m just a writer. I leave my badge at home.

Doya Ever…?

Writing like crazy….

Well, actually thinking like crazy and developing background information to help me advance my understanding of what the hell’s going on in ‘my’ novel. I don’t know if I claim it as much as it has claimed me.

But, as frequently happens with me, this noodling about background sprouts tangent ideas. Writing about another intelligent race (the Milennial) and their complexities (the Lavie (which are their elders) gain weight and lose their limbs, becoming a food source for the larvae), my writing brain comments, “Boy, there’s a terrific short story in that.” Naturally, an argument commences between the novel writer in residence in my brain and the short story writer.

Does this ever happen to you? You’re writing one piece but another suddenly calls and makes an inviting proposition?

Naturally, I said no. The short story writer in me has less traction. I enjoy short stories, love reading and writing them, but I enjoy the novel form more. I tilt toward the novel. So I tell the short story writer, “I appreciate the idea, but we need to stay focused.”

“Come on, it doesn’t need to be long, just twenty-five hundred, maybe five thousand words.”

“I said, no.”

“But it’ll be easy. You can knock it off in a couple days.”

I laugh. Writers are always making such promises. “No.”

Pouting, the short story writer sulks away. “You’ll be sorry someday,” I hear him muttering. “You’ll see.”

The novelist doesn’t let me dwell on that. “Excellent,” he enthuses. “You dispatched him with aplomb. Now, on to the Profemies and the heritage left behind their departure….”

A Vicious Compulsion

A question often asked between writers is, why do you write? Strangely, I don’t encounter it from non-writers. Non-writers seem to understand that I’m a writer. Writers (and potential writers) want to understand why.

The flip answer is that I must. I’m compelled by nature or desire. Sometimes I think it’s an escape and an addiction. Writing about other characters, worlds and situations permits fight from my life blues. Those are shallow answers.

In truth, I follow a few cycles. One cycle is that I enjoy reading. Reading entertains and educates me. Reading fertilizes thought and wonder and introduces me to new mysteries and solutions, and helps me keep growing. Reading is enjoyable, and I admire writers that can tell stories. I want to emulate them. So that cycle is that I read and I want to be like those who wrote what I read, so I write, and then I read more.

The second cycle cascades from that first cycle. The thought, that would be an interesting story initiates the second cycle. Headlines, images, comments, trends and observations all trigger that simple five word thought engine.

‘That’ is often just a concept, though. Behind the concept are complicated questions to link it all together through words. The questions are about characters, motivations, situation, setting, and dive into emotional and logical issues of the story, and then dealing with the novel challenges of pacing, structure, arcs, climax, denouement, along with grammar and punctuation, and ‘truth’. The story must be truthfully told in that it must be faithful to the premise created and the established parameters. If I’m going to lie to the reader to create an ending, I have to establish early that I’m lying. This is the gospel that I developed as a reader who was disgusted after discovering the writer lied to me, or left something out, or didn’t really end the story.

All of this requires thinking. Gosh, I love thinking, especially the abstract thinking embraced in the promise of, “What if…?”

It’s this process that compels me to write. Once a character merges into my thinking, and their situation and setting evolve, it’s difficult to just dismiss them. I prefer embracing them and asking all the questions about them and what’s happening, pursuing them until this mystery is resolved and told in a story.

I suppose I can think through those things without writing it down or typing it up. (In a Steven Wright aside, why do we ‘write down’ but ‘type up’?) To put that another way without the distraction of those expressions, I suppose I can think through those matters without recording outcomes. Perhaps this is where the compulsion actually begins, to add the answers to these questions to the stories being told.

Sipping coffee, my preferred stimulant, and reflecting anew on the process and compulsion, I grasp how I see it as a painting. I grew up drawing pictures, sketching and later painting, breaking off from career paths involving art because everything I created was too mundane and traditional. Now I can glance back and understand that I was impatient and restless. Whereas I should have attempted new directions, I merely stopped and sought other creative avenues. In writing, though, I’ve found the challenge to improve and find new directions to be invigorating and stimulating, puzzles to be solved.

In a sense, puzzles summarize what it’s all about for me. I enjoy Sudoku and logic problems, and when I was employed or in the military, I enjoyed solving problems, and organizing processes. Writing envelopes all of these facets for me.

After that writing and thinking, then, I come back to the kernel of my personality that I tried denying, that I write because I must, because I need a creative outlet. Were it not writing, it would need to be something else.

It is a compulsion.

So here I am, at the computer again with my QSM, ready to write like crazy…one…more…time.

A Beautiful Thing

Writers, poets, musicians and artists all know this, I think, but I write to express my feelings to and for myself. I share it on the blog to find some validation and to give others encouragement, so I’ll share this today.

I’m riding the wave. The wave is when the work in progress is fully comprehended and effortlessly reached, providing a calming high. I’m buoyant and yet introspective, but I don’t mind being like that because I’m happy. Writing is going great. It’s constantly with me but I see that as a beautiful, wonderful state.

My friends probably wonder about my absence. I haven’t been out for beers for over a week. My wife probably thinks I’m losing some cognitive functions because I drive to the wrong place. I can’t and don’t explain that I’m still writing in my head. The story is so rich and real, I don’t want to disturb it, but just write and write. I also know that my enthusiastic descriptions of what I’m doing, what’s going on with me, and what’s happening in the novel tends to create an EGO state for her – eyes glazing over. Only other creative people, involved in their own realms of endeavor, can truly understand. I get that. It shades my existence with loneliness because I can’t share with all these others, these non-writers, non-musicians, non-artists and non-poets. They just don’t seem to get it. But then, I’m not social, so I don’t hunger with the urge to socialize, and it amuses me to watch others engage in that drive.

There are other drives I don’t have that others display. Hunting, dancing, hobbies, making money. Thinking about them and striving to gather insights into those activities and their influences on the people and societies is part of my writing enjoyment.

It’s been a long ride on this wave. I wonder when it’s going to break, so I’ve resisted writing about it, fearful my mentioning it will jinx it. Even as I finished writing this and I read it again, I think, do I really want to put this out there? This wave is so strong, I’m still with Handley on the bridge, peering over her shoulder and spying on her thoughts and actions, and contemplating what’s happening with Pram, Richard and Brett. This wave is strong.

Oh, the coffee is drained. Two thousand words have been written and edited, and ninety minutes have elapsed. A weather storm is approaching so there are real existence matters to attend. Selfishly, I hope we don’t have a power outage, that the storm isn’t strong, because I don’t want the wave to break. I know how shallow that seems, that in this world of life and death, I’m thinking of myself and my writing. I laugh at myself, mocking my priorities.

But of course I hope others safely survive, that the damages aren’t too great, that when they are great, people are able to rebuild and continue on. And of course, I understand, death is a natural part of life. Yet, even in those wishes, hopes, and acceptance, the writer within thinks of the scenes, emotions and dialogue, and imagines the emerging stories….

Writing really is a sickness.

But it’s such a beautiful thing.

Cheers

Sat Down to Write

I sat down to write today after a pleasing session yesterday. The baristas had gifted me an extra espresso sized serving mocha in addition to my standard QSM. I sipped it down, delighting in the melange of mingling flavors, and I remembered 

A new character’s name is Ckyl. Came to me last night.

A scene I wrote in my head about the starship, River Styx, and its occupants and description.

And more details about tachyon syndrome.

Changes to Chor. I’d focused on sex and sexual preferences and choosing or accepting sexual identities, but I’d not considered some of the other matters available to my future people. So I’d overlooked that Chor is a cat person.

And Pram wonders why becoming a cat person is a popular choice. People don’t want to be dog or bird people, although he’d encountered some of them. He knew of a few who went the centaur route (with one also managing to incorporate a unicorn appearance). A small society of humans had transgened themselves into dinosaurs, and another group into dragons, and there are small knots of gnome, fairy, demon, and leprechaun peoples, but cat people were far the most popular and most frequently encountered. He was pleased, though, because he remained unique. There were a few Titans out there, and a cyclops, and a couple of Hercules pretenders, Minotaurs, Hulks, and Avatars, and super-heroes from ancient comic books, but he was the only Colossus, even after all these years.

Pram had not asked Chor about why she was a furry human Siamese with diamond blue eyes and a lazy, busy tail. Asking people about their choices is impolite.

Okay, now that I remember those things, my imagination is fired up. Time to write like crazy, one more time.

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