Showing posts with label advice. Show all posts
Monday, November 17, 2014
The One Piece of Writing Advice
There is a lot of advice out there for writers. Rules, guidelines, tips. Most of it has some merit, but if you were to follow every little suggestion it would be very constricting and frankly would rob you of a lot of the fun of writing.
But if you were only willing to follow one piece of advice, what would it be? Is there one piece of advice that trumps all others?
The sensible and reasonable answer is that it depends. It depends on what kind of writer you are, what your personal strength and weaknesses happen to be, what your goals are. Each writer is different, each writer may require a different blah, blah, blah.
And that is all very true, but putting all sense and reason to one side, I say yes, there is one piece of advice which if you follow, ignoring all others, will still improve your writing immeasurably (or measurably if you happen to be particularly adept at measuring things).
That piece of advice is this: Finish it.
Not to be confused with how to write a first draft or the best way to get over writer�s block. Purely from a desire to learn how to write better, to get the stuff in your head across to the reader in a way they find engaging and interesting, and to improve your storytelling in print form, this is by far the most helpful approach, and probably not for the reasons you think.
It isn�t the easiest, though. That feeling of wanting to give up or that what your writing isn�t going to be worth the effort can be very strong.
There are a million reasons why you should hit delete and start again.
A million doubts that are most probably all true.
Everything you suspect about the story, about yourself as a writer, about the reaction of prospective readers, most likely an accurate assessment.
But you don�t make something better by knowing it�s not good enough. And you don�t get better by knowing what needs to be done. You only get better by doing it. Practice, even without guidance, will return dividends.
Because no matter how unsure you are about the mechanics of writing, you are an expert on the art of storytelling. You�ve been experiencing the art form since you were a child. On a daily basis. Books, TV, movies, jokes, anecdotes, gossip, it all informs your art, whether you�re aware of it or not.
So you have this deep reservoir of knowledge then surely when it tells you what your writing isn�t very good you should listen and dump it, right? Abandon ship. Run for the hills.
Well, here�s the thing, if you stop halfway then it�s very easy to convince yourself of whatever conclusion you�re in the mood to make. The stories going nowhere; it�ll be embarrassingly bad; you�ll just have to start again anyway. Stop writing, bullet dodged. It almost feels like an accomplishment.
But a strange thing occurs if you persevere. If you push through that feeling urging you to go and do the dishes, the laundry or whatever, and you write an ending, any ending, one of two things will happen. Either it won�t be as bad as you feared, which is great and a good confidence boost, but also quite rare. Or, more likely, it will be pretty bad.
Just rubbish.
Only, when it�s on the page and not just an assumption in your head, all that anxiety and worry that you're wasting your time dissipates.
You�ve already wasted your time, no point worrying about it now. Instead you can start to see exactly where it goes wrong. Some of what you wrote will make sense, other bits clearly need to go. Your innate sense of what�s good and bad will kick in properly. Not on a hypothetical version of what you might write, but on the actual words in front of you.
And while it�s true that what each person needs to learn is specific to that individual and their personal style, the best person to analyse and improve your writing is you. And the best way to do that effectively, especially early on, is to force yourself, grimly, teeth-clenchedly, to write all the way to an end. Only then can you properly assess what you have produced, not what you might produce or what you should have produced.
Finish it, even when all common sense tells you to go bake a cake instead (when you don't even know how to bake a cake). Finish it.
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Monday, October 6, 2014
Different Rules for Different Writers
Readers do not treat all writers the same. This may seem obvious but a reader does not approach the latest best-seller from a well-known author with the same mind-set as they would a writer who has no track record. This means well-known authors tend not to be held to the same standards as someone trying to get people to read novel number one.
Not that those standards are necessarily better or worse, they�re just not the same.
However, much of what we think of as good writing and good storytelling comes from the books we read. And most of these books are from the established authors we all know and admire.
But if they can write in a way that less experienced writers might not be able to get away with, is it worth using these authors as role models? And exactly what, if anything, can we learn from them?
As readers we don�t necessarily look for stories that are immediately clear and direct. We are willing to undergo some confusion or vagueness if we feel it�s headed somewhere worthwhile. With an established author, especially one whose work we�ve read before and enjoyed, we at least know they are capable of delivering. That doesn�t mean they will deliver (many a great writer has produced a dud) but a little assurance goes a long way. We are at least willing to risk it.
With a novice writer there is no such assurance. That doesn�t mean the story won�t end up being a great read, but you�re going in blind and hoping for the best. The risk is greater. Stick with it and you�ll see it all comes together in the end, the novice writer will claim, and for some this will be true. For most it will not.
Most readers won�t want to take the risk. Time is precious, and who wants to read 150 pages before realising what they�re reading is a big steaming pile of hooey?
This is where the basic dos and don�ts of writing come in. Show don�t tell, strong opening line, likeable characters, avoid cliches, avoid adverbs, a first chapter that engages quickly... these are the sorts of guidelines new writers are advised to follow.
None of these are essential to telling a good tale, but what they do do is provide a little assurance that the writer is in control of what they�re doing, and a little assurance goes a long way. If a reader feels they know what�s going on and they like where things are headed they�re more likely to keep reading.
Thing is though, that may not be what the writer wants. They might want the reader to be unclear on exactly what�s happening or what a character�s motivations are. The kind of books the writer likes might not spoonfeed the reader in the way the writer is expected to.
Indeed, if you read books by bestselling authors with a large fan base you might find that they�re books can be very different from the received wisdom. Ponderous starts, tangential riffs that go nowhere, an age to get the plot going. And it�s not like people aren�t aware of these deficiencies. Critics will point them out, fans will blog about it and teachers will use them as examples of poor writing. And yet they will still sell in the millions.
This tends to be especially true for books written once the author has had a really big hit or two, or well into a long running series. If you look at their earlier books they will usually be much more likely to follow the kind of rules and guidelines aspiring writers are familiar with. So if they�re capable of writing like that, why don�t they keep doing it? Laziness? A deterioration of talent? Dementia?
The simple answer is because they don�t need to. The purpose of writing in that particular way is for the benefit of the reader not the story. It�s more enjoyable to write in the way you feel like writing rather than in a prescribed manner. Nobody jumps through hoops because they love hoop jumping. It may turn out that the story comes to you in a way that fits the traditional model, but it may not. And remoulding it isn�t always the most fun thing to do.
An established author has the luxury of not having to prove their credentials. If they�re big enough even people who have never read their books will be aware of those credentials. It may displease some readers to have to struggle through the first few chapters before figuring out what�s going on, but they�ll do it. And every time someone does that and finds the effort to have been worthwhile, then they�ll give that author even more latitude in future.
Of course, fail to live up to expectations and eventually you�ll run out of goodwill. But that can take years sometimes.
Getting to that point, though, has to be earned. It means sometimes having to be a little more analytical than you might want to be. A little less enigmatic, a little more precise.
And while you won�t be able to write like your literary heroes write straight away, it�s worth checking out their earlier work which might not be quite so self-indulgent. Of course if they�ve been around a long time the style of their earlier books might not be in vogue anymore, but at least you can be assured that even they had to the toe the line a little when they started out. And a little assurance goes a long way.
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Monday, September 8, 2014
When A Scene Isn�t Working
There comes a time when you have to face facts. You�ve tried to convince yourself that scene where your main character goes back to her old house and stares at it for four pages is a good scene, an important scene where the reader learns things they need to know, but... it just isn�t a very interesting scene.
You know this because none of the people who�ve read it have ever said anything good about it. Quite a few have said bad things about it. And most have not mentioned it at all. You could take their silence as a sign they�re okay with it, but do you really want to write a story that�s just okay?
So, something�s got to change.
You basically have two options. You can cut the scene completely, or you can make the scene better.
With the first option, it�s rare to be able to lift out the scene and that�s it. Sometimes it is possible, if the scene was unrelated to the plot and just a fun interlude of some sort, but mostly it will either have to be replaced with a new scene, or the information contained in the old scene will have to be worked into the rest of the story somehow.
Personally, I think a brand new scene works best (although it requires more work). If things happened in the old scene that are pertinent to later events and you try to squeeze that info into other places, it can end up feeling like heavy-handed exposition.
You cut the scene where Sandra meets Debra and finds out about the new shopping mall being built in town, and you go straight to the scene where she�s having dinner with her husband. But instead of getting straight into the action, you now have half a page of:
�So where were you this afternoon?�
You know this because none of the people who�ve read it have ever said anything good about it. Quite a few have said bad things about it. And most have not mentioned it at all. You could take their silence as a sign they�re okay with it, but do you really want to write a story that�s just okay?
So, something�s got to change.
You basically have two options. You can cut the scene completely, or you can make the scene better.
With the first option, it�s rare to be able to lift out the scene and that�s it. Sometimes it is possible, if the scene was unrelated to the plot and just a fun interlude of some sort, but mostly it will either have to be replaced with a new scene, or the information contained in the old scene will have to be worked into the rest of the story somehow.
Personally, I think a brand new scene works best (although it requires more work). If things happened in the old scene that are pertinent to later events and you try to squeeze that info into other places, it can end up feeling like heavy-handed exposition.
You cut the scene where Sandra meets Debra and finds out about the new shopping mall being built in town, and you go straight to the scene where she�s having dinner with her husband. But instead of getting straight into the action, you now have half a page of:
�So where were you this afternoon?�
�I went to see Debra. You�ll never guess what she told me...�
There�s no point cutting a scene that isn�t working only to add a summary of the scene that didn�t work. If you cut you have to really cut.
The second option, improving the scene, is usually the best way to proceed, although writers are resistant to making the kinds of changes required. A few line edits and introducing a chatty waiter aren�t going to be enough.
You have to really go back to basics and work out what you�re trying to do with the scene and come up with a completely new approach to getting that message across. I�m not saying there aren�t ways to tweak the current version into working, but once you�ve spent so much time with Version A, it�s going to be very hard to see it any other way than how it already is. You�ve been honing and trimming and getting it just so for so long that being able to see it fresh will be nearly impossible.
Far easier is to go back to the start of the scene and start again. Take into account where the characters were just prior to the beginning of the scene. How did that affect them? What mood are they in? What are they hoping will happen now? And then the first time a choice needs to be made, if you went left in Version A, go right in Version B. The more different you make it, the easier it will be to come up with fresh ideas.
And it�s important to remember if Version B ends up being even worse than the original, that doesn�t make Version A any better. It still doesn�t work, it�s just that Version B was worse. So, time to start working on Version C...
There�s no point cutting a scene that isn�t working only to add a summary of the scene that didn�t work. If you cut you have to really cut.
The second option, improving the scene, is usually the best way to proceed, although writers are resistant to making the kinds of changes required. A few line edits and introducing a chatty waiter aren�t going to be enough.
You have to really go back to basics and work out what you�re trying to do with the scene and come up with a completely new approach to getting that message across. I�m not saying there aren�t ways to tweak the current version into working, but once you�ve spent so much time with Version A, it�s going to be very hard to see it any other way than how it already is. You�ve been honing and trimming and getting it just so for so long that being able to see it fresh will be nearly impossible.
Far easier is to go back to the start of the scene and start again. Take into account where the characters were just prior to the beginning of the scene. How did that affect them? What mood are they in? What are they hoping will happen now? And then the first time a choice needs to be made, if you went left in Version A, go right in Version B. The more different you make it, the easier it will be to come up with fresh ideas.
And it�s important to remember if Version B ends up being even worse than the original, that doesn�t make Version A any better. It still doesn�t work, it�s just that Version B was worse. So, time to start working on Version C...
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~*~
This post first appeared in November 2012. Summer's over so there will be a new post next week (assuming I can think of something to write about).
Monday, May 5, 2014
Digging for Writing Advice Gold
Advice, for writing and for everything else, is situational. In some cases it applies, in some it doesn�t.
When a concisely phrased suggestion fits perfectly with what you�ve been trying to work out it can be mind-blowing. Everything suddenly slots into place. You know exactly what you need to do. Not only does it seem to give you the answer to the problem at hand, it can change the way you look at the world in general.
But advice, no matter how apropos, never applies to everything. The camera never lies, love conquers all, honesty is the best policy, they all have their exceptions and so does every other piece of wisdom.
When it comes to writing, most advice comes with an example that seemingly proves the point. A famous novelist, a best-selling book, a well-know quote will solidify the recommendation. This is how you do it, look how well it worked for others.
But you don�t have to write every day. Putting in 10,000 hours won�t automatically make you an expert. Doing what you love doesn�t always make you happy. These things can and do help, but they are never the sole reason for success. And in some cases they can actually make things worse.
Writing every day can easily lead to burn out.
The 10,000 hours rule is just another way of saying practice makes perfect, and not a guarantee of stardom.
Turning your passion into your job can rob you of your love for it.
That�s not to say these things won�t help you become a better writer�at certain stages on the path to becoming a published author a change in focus and approach can help push you onto the next level�but there are no secret methods for turning lead into gold.
You have to dig up your own gold ore and then you can figure out how to refine it for yourself or you can look around to see how others approach the refining process. But that initial lump of rock with bits of gold in it, that has to come from you.
If what you�ve dreamed up is interesting to enough people it doesn�t have to follow any particular template in order to become successful. There are plenty of examples of blockbusting books that are widely mocked and derided for being not very good. Doesn�t stop them from selling.
Equally, a dull or uninspired tale will fail to spark much interest even if you follow all the advice out there and make it grammatically beyond reproach.
So how do you know if you should be applying the concepts that every writing blog (including this one) puts in front of you?
Consider that even those who have mastered the form, who have had great financial success and won awards, still manage to put out huge clunkers. Novelists, filmmakers, artists of all types rarely manage to maintain a string of endless winners. Most have hits and misses.
These are people who have all the mechanics in place and a proven track record. They don�t have any issues with the technical side of creating and they even have an audience eagerly awaiting their work. And yet they can produce a flop that makes no money, and often do.
Because there is always an unknown quantity in this equation. The reader, the viewer, the audience, will always have their own judgement on the subject.
You may think a joke is funny, but if you say it out loud and no one laughs then you have to take that into consideration. Doesn�t mean you can�t find it hilarious, but that isn�t going to be enough if you planned on being a comedian.
No advice is going to magically fill your pockets with gold coins. You have to produce your own raw materials to work with, but what you can do is find ways to make the process smoother and less stressful.
Ultimately it isn�t the end product that advice will help you with, it�s the process of how you get there. And while the audience will decide if what you come up with is any good, you get to decide if your route could have been better.
This means that when you consider advice on writing, instead of looking at the finished book and wondering if people are going to like it (something you can�t really know), you should rather focus on how satisfied you are with the process of writing it.
Was it a struggle to get finished? Did revisions take longer than you had hoped? Did you lose momentum halfway through?
This is where other writers� experiences and suggestions can come in very useful. What worked for them won�t necessarily work for you, but it�s worth trying because you can very quickly tell if your process improves. And the only judgement that matters is yours.
Bear in mind that doesn�t mean you won�t have to persevere with a new approach to appreciate its full effect�you should at least give it time to feel comfortable to use�but if it isn�t improving your process in the way you want to improve it, then that�s reason enough to not use it.
The actual story�the premise, the characters, the plot�will depend on your imagination and inspiration (and possibly indigestion). You can fiddle with the technical aspects but by and large you will have to depend on your innate storytelling abilities. But making the process as enjoyable and rewarding as possible is something you can definitely learn from others, and worth trying if you�re finding the work heavy going.
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Thursday, September 12, 2013
How to Learn Story Structure Without Even Trying
Guest post by K.M. Weiland (@kmweiland):
Here�s a secret about story structure that you may not have realized: You already know it.
Many authors are intimidated by the mere thought of structure. As if writing isn�t already enough of a juggling act, now we�re expected to also make certain our plot fits into some nebulous framework. It can be daunting, to say the least.
But here�s the great thing about structure: it�s neither nebulous nor difficult to learn.
Here�s a secret about story structure that you may not have realized: You already know it.
Many authors are intimidated by the mere thought of structure. As if writing isn�t already enough of a juggling act, now we�re expected to also make certain our plot fits into some nebulous framework. It can be daunting, to say the least.
But here�s the great thing about structure: it�s neither nebulous nor difficult to learn.
If we view structure through the lens of the classic three-act approach, we can break it down into ten easy steps (which I discuss in depth in my book Structuring Your Novel: Essential Keys to Writing an Outstanding Story). Once you get a handle on these steps, they�re easy to understand, easy to work with, and they allow us to purposefully mold our stories into their optimal shapes.
That�s the solidity of structure.
But what about this supposed simplicity?
Learning structure easily
Let�s make a little friendly wager. I�m going to bet you that, even if you�ve yet to learn anything about story structure, you�re probably already writing stories that adhere to it.
Say what?
That�s what I said too. I dismissed the whole notion of structure as a lot of hooey until one day I realized I was instinctively structuring all of my stories.
That�s right: instinctively.
Story structure is hardwired into the human brain. Most of us intuitively understand what makes a good story: the hook in the beginning, the rise and fall of action, the importance of major plot points, and the gallop to the climax. We�ve been learning structure all our lives. From that first board book Mom and Dad read us at bedtime to our Saturday morning cartoons and right on through every novel we�ve read and every movie or TV show we�ve watched�we�ve been learning story structure via osmosis all our lives.
Not only are we learning structure without even trying, we�ve been learning it without even knowing it. How cool is that?
Learning structure purposefully
Say what?
That�s what I said too. I dismissed the whole notion of structure as a lot of hooey until one day I realized I was instinctively structuring all of my stories.
That�s right: instinctively.
Story structure is hardwired into the human brain. Most of us intuitively understand what makes a good story: the hook in the beginning, the rise and fall of action, the importance of major plot points, and the gallop to the climax. We�ve been learning structure all our lives. From that first board book Mom and Dad read us at bedtime to our Saturday morning cartoons and right on through every novel we�ve read and every movie or TV show we�ve watched�we�ve been learning story structure via osmosis all our lives.
Not only are we learning structure without even trying, we�ve been learning it without even knowing it. How cool is that?
Learning structure purposefully
But we can (and should) take this several steps further. In order to maximize this inherent understanding of story�and to make our wrangling with those first drafts about a thousand times easier�we need to quantify our instinctive knowledge.
Once I started studying structure, learning its ins and outs, and solidifying in my conscious brain what my subconscious already knew, my writing process was revolutionized. Suddenly, I understood why certain things worked and others didn�t. I was able to look at plot problems and immediately see the solution, instead of just trying to feel my way to a workable answer.
Our subconscious brains are powerful. But until we understand how to use that power, we will often have a difficult time harnessing it.
Learning structure organically
Once I started studying structure, learning its ins and outs, and solidifying in my conscious brain what my subconscious already knew, my writing process was revolutionized. Suddenly, I understood why certain things worked and others didn�t. I was able to look at plot problems and immediately see the solution, instead of just trying to feel my way to a workable answer.
Our subconscious brains are powerful. But until we understand how to use that power, we will often have a difficult time harnessing it.
Learning structure organically
Once we have an understanding of the basic parts of story structure, we get to jump right back into the �not even trying� stage of our learning. Read books. Watch movies.
Tough assignment, right?
But don�t just read and watch. Instead, read and watch with purpose. Pay attention to how other authors play out the aspects of structure in their own stories. Try to get a sense of the timing. Watch for the way the characters� arcs shift around the plot points within the structure.
Re-read and re-watch some of your old favorites. Since you�re already familiar with how these stories play out, you can gain an even better perspective of their structure as you anticipate plot points yet to come.
The only rule of good storytelling is write a story that works. When we study the stories that work for us, we deepen our already innate understanding of story structure. The deeper that understanding, the more likely we are to write that power into our own books.
Tough assignment, right?
But don�t just read and watch. Instead, read and watch with purpose. Pay attention to how other authors play out the aspects of structure in their own stories. Try to get a sense of the timing. Watch for the way the characters� arcs shift around the plot points within the structure.
Re-read and re-watch some of your old favorites. Since you�re already familiar with how these stories play out, you can gain an even better perspective of their structure as you anticipate plot points yet to come.
The only rule of good storytelling is write a story that works. When we study the stories that work for us, we deepen our already innate understanding of story structure. The deeper that understanding, the more likely we are to write that power into our own books.
K.M. Weiland is the author of the epic fantasy Dreamlander, the historical western A Man Called Outlaw and the medieval epic Behold the Dawn. She makes her home in western Nebraska.
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If you found this post useful please give it a tweet and don't forget to visit K.M. Weiland's very helpful website Helping Writers Become Authors. Her books Outlining Your Novel and Structuring Your Novel are available now.
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