Category Archives: Writing

Turning Your Rough Drafts Into Gems

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(I know it's not quartzite, but it's pretty.)

“Mom, what does sandstone turn into?”

My daughter recently finished a geology unit at school, and was quizzing me on the things she’d learned.

“Quartzite,” she said. “What does the sandstone need to turn into it?”

She didn’t really wait for me to answer. “Heat, pressure and time.” She launched into an explanation of the process, using her hands to illustrate the pressure transforming the metamorphic rock.

It got me thinking about writing. (Okay, most things make me think about writing.)

The process writers go through transforming a work from first draft to finished project is similar.

The writing process requires heat, in the form of energy, passion.

It requires pressure, in the form of revision. Putting each sentence under scrutiny, and making it do as much work as possible.

And it requires time. Time for writing. Time for letting a manuscript simmer. Time for critiques and revisions. Time to cultivate the next idea.

Remove any part of the process and you don’t end up with a finished project. You still have sandstone instead of quartzite. And what is sandstone, compared to quartzite? Weak. Brittle. Unable to stand the test of time.

I guess the takeaway is simple: trust the process. Provide the energy. Do the work. Give it time. You may just end up with a gem.

Endings Never Come Last

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For me, writing the ending of a story is the easiest. I think this is because it isn’t the last thing I write. In fact, I would go as far to say it’s the catalyst that gets me to write the story.

Let me break down my process, for the most part.

It’s the heightened physical reaction I get when I figure out the end of my story.

First comes the initial idea. Whatever it is, be it an interesting character, place, concept, or event. Doesn’t really matter which, as long as it’s interesting. Then I start writing. I just throw words on the page. Doesn’t matter if it’s clunky or chronological as long as I’m getting the words out. Then it happens.

Some might call it divine intervention. Some might say the muse spoke to them. Still others might swear that alien lizard people summoned them from another dimension to scry their inner-most secret plans. Me, I call them goosebumps. That’s right.

Goosebumps.

I get covered in them. It’s the heightened physical reaction I get when I figure out the end of my story. At this point I’m usually only two to three thousand words in. Put another way, that’s about eight to twelve pages into the novel. At that point, I have to write the ending or risk forgetting it.

After that, I’ll outline all the rest before I continue writing. Edit. Revise. Repeat.

I look for the goosebumps. I need the goosebumps. When I read the ending when I’m done writing it, the goosebumps have to be there. No goosebumps, no story.

There’s been a few times I’ve written through some ideas without a single bump. Not one raised hair. In those instances, I put the story down and moved on to the next story. That’s not to say that the goosebumps won’t come later. Better late than never. And since it got filed away (because we never throw things away), it’s easy to go back to it.
So when do you write your endings? At the end? Beginning? Or are you the Robert Jordan type and keep writing and writing and writing, without a care in the world for endings?

500 Club (2/16)

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Feel like you’re dragging today? Finding it tough to tackle that blank page? Sounds like you can use a little stretch, some creative calisthenics. A quick writing prompt will get you going in no time.

Here’s what to do:

  1. Write 500 words based on one of the two prompts below.
  2. Post it to your blog.
  3. Give us a small taste in the comments below along with a link to the full text.

And now on to the prompts:

1. Your Senses: Write 500 words focusing on the sense of touch.

2. Writing Challenge: Break outside of your comfort zone. Write 500 words from the point of view of someone unlike yourself. Examples: Little person, amputee, autistic, or deaf.

*Feel free to change the name or sex of the characters as needed.

And then we came to the end… UGH

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Endings are tough. They make or break your story. A poor ending can utterly spoil an otherwise serviceable story, while a great one elevates it, making it more than the sum of its parts.

I really, really struggle with this. Sometimes everything in the story comes together and your ending is happy, sometimes things fall apart and your ending is tragic, sometimes you’ve got an unsettling mix of the two. But that doesn’t change what the ending needs. That an ending must fulfill whatever you’ve set up on the first page is obvious — without that fulfillment, it’s not an ending at all. But when you’re writing an ending, you’ve also got to ask yourself: does this hit all the right notes? Does it leave the reader with resonance? Is it logical and evocative? Sometimes the ending just falls into your lap and comes out perfectly the first time you type it. But if you’re like me, most of the time writing a decent ending is a serious undertaking.

I don’t have any sort of easy answer for this. My best solution is to simply open a new file, copy the climax from the original file and paste it in, several times in a row. I put in page breaks between each ctrl+p so I don’t get visually overloaded, and then I riff. I write an ending. I scroll down past the page break and write a different ending. And so on.

It might take me six or seven tries to get close to what I want. But I find that if I keep myself noncommittal and open to possibilities, and write the most obvious thing just to get it out of the way and then ask myself a torrent of questions in the vein of: what else could I say here? Where else can we go? And what am I saying anyway? And how else could I say it? that eventually I’ll come up with something that resonates the way I want it to.

They say the definition of insanity is doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results. That’s why I subscribe to partial insanity instead. I write my endings over and over, changing them a little each time, until I finally get what I want. I wish I had a clever, EZ, lazy way to do it.

But I don’t.

Harvey Is Dying

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Harvey's namesake

There are few things that can bring a true writer down. A writer can write even when he or she doesn’t feel like it. A writer writes even when more questions are written then answers. A writer writes because that’s what writers do. That being said, I think I’ve encountered an issue to bring my word count to a trickle.

My computer is dying.

Harvey, my name for my laptop, has been a trusty workhorse for more than six years. From coffee shops to conventions, Harvey has been a companion to which I’ve spent countless hours. I’ve stayed up late into the night to help him through a few viruses. Updated him in timely matters. Kept him safe inside a nicely padded bag. When his battery finally gave out, I stuck by him and a close by outlet. And when the cord started to expose the wiring, I diligently taped it up.

Alas, now I can hear the death rattle in his spinning hard disk, drastically undersized compared to today’s standards. There were days when I had to wake him three or four times before he started to function at just a shadow of his former glory. His stop-stutter response to each keystroke or lagging cursor desperately trying to keep up with my tracing finger are signs I can no longer ignore. I must close Harvey’s screen for a final time.

He will be missed for there is no way I can replace him. At least not currently. Of my three stations I work between, he took the brunt of my creative time. The home computer offers little in the way of a quiet enough setting and I exercise stealth when writing at work, but neither offered me the mobility of network capability as Harvey. So how will I carry on?

I will be forced to drag out the ancient relics of pen and paper.

That’s right. Do today’s kids even know how to use these or what they were for? Well, my plan for the time being will be to write things longhand, and when the opportunity strikes, I’ll manually transfer it to the more well-known digital format. Sure, it’ll slow things down, but let’s look for that silver lining.

I can still write. Being I’m a writer and that’s what writers do, that’s a good thing. Two, while I’m typing it up, I get a chance to edit it. Almost like a second first draft. At this point I’m not fully in edit made, but glaring errors are hard to miss.

So I will soldier on. Maybe one day there will be a laptop to fill the void Harvey has left. It won’t be soon. (Unless anyone knows of some really good deals. *ahem*) Until then, I will write when I can, and what matters most to me. And to Harvey I offer a three key solute.

[Ctrl] + [Alt] + [Del]

Stuck in the Middle

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This week we’re talking about middles. Not middles as in waistlines. Middles as in that section of your novel that connects your brilliant beginning with your stunning conclusion.

Middles can get murky. They can catch you like quicksand and suck you down to oblivion. Stall you out like the doldrums. Cut you off at the knees.

Okay, enough dramatic cliches.

There are some telltale warning signs you’re headed into a swampy slowdown.

You might be in trouble if:

  • Your character stares out the window, thinking
  • Two characters pass the time talking about what’s happened up to that point, rehashing information they both know but are saying anyway for the reader’s benefit
  • You take up wide swaths of chapters describing the scenery in minute detail while your characters sits at a table doing nothing

Do you see a common denominator? No movement.

The key, I’m quickly learning, to getting through the murky middle is to keep your characters actively moving through the story. In order for them to do so, you’re going to need…

A plot.

I used to be a pantser. I would sit at the keyboard and wait for the story to land in my head and flow through my fingers. And too many times my novels fizzled about halfway through.

I had no plot.

And then I read Save the Cat, by Blake Snyder. And I learned how to map out my story before writing it.

Guess what? It worked.

I’ve written two manuscripts since I learned how to Save the Cat, and both times, I’ve zoomed right through the middle. My stories maintained their energy and the momentum carried them through to the conclusion. Yay!

Now, you might be shaking your head, thinking outlining and plotting aren’t for you. That’s fine. We all have our own processes. But the next time you find yourself stuck in the middle, you should consider evaluating where your character is, where you need him to be, and how to get him there before you write another word. It’s okay. Your character will wait for you. He’s not doing anything anyway. He’s just staring out the window.

500 Club (1/26)

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Another Thursday brings us another 500 Club! Scroll down for two more prompts waiting to be explored.

Here’s what to do:

  1. Write 500 words based on one of the two prompts below.
  2. Post it to your blog.
  3. Give us a small taste in the comments below along with a link to the full text.

And now on to the prompts:

1. Attracting Opposites: In 500 words, convincingly combine two opposite elements. Blend fire and ice, love and hate, or space travel and deep-sea diving. Pick one of those or choose your own, just make sure they’re extreme opposites and make them coalesce.

2. Things Out of Place: Write a short story about something out of place. Maybe stacks and stacks of book, but not in a library or book store. Or, a full working kitchen at the heart of a cave. Make it believable and make it in 500 words.

*Feel free to change the name or sex of the characters as needed.

500 Club (1/5/2012)

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New Year, new prompts. Let’s not get out of the habit of letting our creativity play. Make it your New Year’s Resolution. Start writing now!

Here’s what to do:

  1. Write 500 words based on one of the two prompts below.
  2. Post it to your blog.
  3. Give us a small taste in the comments below along with a link to the full text.

And now on to the prompts:

1. Finish this opener: Joe swore he’d never do it again, but here he was, standing out front with _______ in hand and unable to stop from going in.

2. The new year marks ends and beginnings. Write 500 words where the last line mirrors the first.

*Feel free to change the name or sex of the characters as needed.

Confessional Classic: 3 Things… for Arm Hair Raising Moments

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Christmas is just around the corner, and we here at The Parking Lot Confessional hope you’re spending the time you want with the ones who matter most. That’s exactly what we’re doing. Don’t worry, though. We haven’t forgotten you. This week and next we’re excavating some of our favorite posts to hold you over. In the meantime, be it Yule, Hanukkah, Christmas or Kwanzaa, may your celebrations be merry.

Originally posted June 17, 2011.

By far the best moments in writing happen when an idea strikes. It’s so electrifying the hairs on your arms stand at attention. If I’m not near a pen or computer when it happens, I scramble to get to one. More often than not I could remember them later, but why risk it? Just because I’m not diagnosed with ADD or ADHD doesn’t mean I don’t empathize with losing a train of thought to something shiny.

The most important thing to know about achieving Arm Hair Raising Moments is that you need to be open to them. You have to be willing to let your story happen. There is no crime in deviating from an outline or a rough character sketch. As soon as you can relax these expectations, you’ll be hoisting your lightning rod and ready for inspiration to strike.

Everybody is different. You put your left shoe on first. I, the right. So it goes without saying that methods of letting go will be different for each of us as well. What I offer is three things that work for me. Try them out, tweak them if you like. I won’t mind. Just find something that works and use it.

Remove yourself from
your usual environment.

I don’t mean leave town. A thirty minute walk around the neighborhood could easily do the trick as well. Although if leaving town is possible, by all means do it. Wherever you end up, be it down the street or across the state line, enjoy where you are. Don’t hold that unworkable scene in your head. Taking in something new will in turn bring in something new to the story.

I would suggest going by yourself though. That way you avoid getting caught up in someone else’s thoughts. Let your thoughts be your own and those Ah-ha! moments will follow.

Write something else.

There is no rule anywhere that states you have to stick to the same story until it’s through. If you feel you’ve hit an impasse, simply go with something else. Once you pull your conscious brain away, I believe your subconscious takes over for you. Next thing you know, the arm hairs are rising and you’re back to your original story.

Indulge in silly exercises.

Remember when you were first starting out writing stories based on prompts? Those long drawn out and seemingly pointless character sketches you did to improve your craft? I know you remember. Did you think that was only for the sake of honing your craft, and now that you’ve been doing this for a while, those aren’t necessary anymore?

Think again.

Those exercises will help almost every single time. Most of what you write won’t end up in the story, but that doesn’t make it useless. Some aspect of your character or plot will sneak in and raise your arm hair. Most definitely while you’re not expecting it.

And that’s the key to these Arm Hair Raising Moments. You never expect them when they happen. So why not create times for them to happen? I’m not advocating for anyone to ignore their writings. You still need to get your butt in the chair. It’s when the writing’s getting stale and in need of some fresh inspiration that we as writers need to shake it up. These are a few of the devises I use to do that.

If you have any suggestions, please share them below. I’m always up to trying something new.

Confessional Classic: A Lesson From My Dog

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We’re reaching back into the archives this week and next. I decided to do some cross-pollinating and reach back into the archives from my own blog, Amy Writes. Here’s a post I wrote a long time ago (in a galaxy far, far away) about a lesson I need to relearn today. And tomorrow. And pretty much every day. I hope you find it helpful. Happy Holidays to you and yours!

A Lesson from My Dog

I took last week off from blogging and…well…everything for two reasons:

  1. It was Spring Break.
  2. We decided to landscape our yard.

By “landscape our yard” I don’t mean we came up with a design and hired a crew to do the work. I mean WE landscaped the yard.

It’s been a week in the trenches. If we’d added barbed wire, we could have filmed a WWI war movie in our yard. Seriously. I’m not kidding.

And of course as I was digging and raking and scraping and planting and plugging and piping, etc., my brain was buzzing with thoughts about writing and creativity and life, etc., because…well…that’s what I do.

I learned a lot this week out there in the trenches. And the biggest thing I learned, I learned from my dog.

I have a really cool dog. If she should could talk (other than saying “mama”, which she can do), I’m pretty sure she’d tell me her favorite quote is from Winston Churchill:

“Never, never, never, never give up.”

My dog is obsessed with fetch. If she’s awake, she’s thinking about fetch. And if she could speak (again, other than “mama” <– I’m really proud of that one), I think she’d tell me she dreams of a world where humans do nothing but play fetch with dogs 24/7. It doesn’t matter if there isn’t a ball around. She’ll find a substitute. A toy. A shoe. Anything that can be thrown is worthy of being fetched. And she is always at the ready.

So, this week we’re out there in the trenches, digging and digging and digging and it’s just crazy work; and the dog is always there with the ball. I dig a hole. In goes the ball. I pull the ball out. In goes the ball. I throw the ball, dig really fast before she could get back, and…in goes the ball.

I should teach her golf. She has terrific aim. Hole. Ball. In. Voila!

We’d get frustrated with her, of course.

“No,” we’d say. “Go lay down.”

In goes the ball.

“NO. Not now.”

In goes the ball.

All day. Every day. All week.

That’s tenacity.  That’s endurance. That’s whole-hearted belief that at some point that ball is going to fly and fetch will be played.

If my dog could type (we’re working on that one), she’d have at least fifty novels published by now. I just know it. She has the tenacity it takes to stick with it. To not lose faith. To not stop at no.

Here’s another quote I bet my dog likes. This one’s from Amelia Aerhart:

“The most difficult thing is the decision to act, the rest is merely tenacity. The fears are paper tigers. You can do anything you decide to do. You can act to change and control your life; and the procedure , the process is its own reward.”

Tenacity and writing go hand in hand. Tenacity and creativity go hand in hand. Tenacity and life go hand and hand.

OK, and fetch, too.