Onward

I remember when I wrote nearly every day. Not just a few words, either. About 800 words on days I worked, and 1200 or more on days I didn’t. It wasn’t magic that I ended up with several complete novel drafts (I think the count is seven? *counts on fingers* yep, seven.) I worked my butt off to get there. All but one of those novels was written in the last three years, too. (and the one that wasn’t, was completely re-written in that time.) Not to mention a bunch of fanfics, and Flame’s serial.

Part of the problem is that I do have such a backlog. I’m quite well aware I don’t need any more novels right now. I need to polish what I’ve got. But…ahh, there’s always a “but,” isn’t there?

But. I’m not sure what to do. And I can’t stand to keep tinkering aimlessly. I haven’t touched Taro in days, with the excuse that I’ve been sick. Yet I’ve been writing a bit (tiny bit, with lots of crossed-out words and sometimes paragraphs) on Fidelis. The real problem with Taro (beyond the fact that editing really does require more brain than writing, at least for me) is that my scene epiphany seems nearly impossible to apply to Taro.

Here’s how Jack M. Bickham (Scene & Structure) says it’s supposed to go: scene goal > conflict > disaster. Then sequel = emotion > thought > decision > action. (for a more in-depth explanation, I highly recommend the book.) He has all sorts of great ways to mix things up, but that’s the basic idea, and it seems a very good one.

Problem is, I can’t fit most of the scenes in Taro’s book into that pattern, and I’m not sure I want to. On the one side, JMB and Writer’s Digest and other respected writers who recommend JMB’s book, and my own sense of “yeah, that really looks good.” On the other side–a lot of Taro seems damned fine the way it is. I have friends who have read (writing friends, who understand the idea of editing) who don’t think I should change much at all. A bit at the beginning, punch up the climax, that’s it. On this side also are my rebellious muses, who feel they have sweated blood over Taro long enough, it’s time to get it out there and move on.

But I have tried. (see the wibbling here?) And despite what knowledgeable writer friends say, those I’ve sent Taro to have expressed No Interest Whatsoever.

I know Taro can be better. I’m just not sure I’m capable of making it better. Seems like the more I force myself to try, the more time I spend wandering the internet doing useless things.

All right. No more whining. What I need…is a plan. (and then I need to stick to it, which is a whole other kettle of fish…)

*returns from over an hour of internet wandering, talking to roommate, et cetera*

Yeah. I think maybe that plan had better include some enforced internet downtime.

Okay. I need to get Taro divided into scenes and printed out. Once I can get free of needing the computer every ten minutes (last plan was to pull a scene at a time to work on. That was made of epic fail.) I will get farther. I’ll decide what I’m fixing on a scene-by-scene basis and stop worrying about the whole until I’m done.

Then we’ll see, won’t we?

No, those aren’t here yet. But since I was so excited and didn’t want to wait, I picked up another I had lying around. One I couldn’t manage to get into last time around.

Boy, am I regretting that now. Because now, I’m going to have to go through Taro again after this fix. But…I finally get scenes.  Holly Lisle’s explanation never worked for me; I was missing a crucial bit of information.  Not that she didn’t say it–I didn’t catch it.

Now I do.  And I’m going to edit, and I’m going to fix, and then I’m going to explain what the heck I’m talking about.  Yes.

After I sleep.

affrèrement

So there.

When I was young and stupid, I thought the only way to learn to write was to write.

Okay, so I still think that. To a certain extent. But I’ve become a little more self-aware, and now I know that I can use all the help I can get.

I’m a pretty bright girl. I know the difference between “lay” and “lie,” I know a little bit about a whole lot of things, and I think algebra and physics are fun. But I also know that I tend to think so far outside the box that you can’t spot that poor box on radar from where I am. I’m the girl who took three pages to do geometry problems because I just couldn’t go at the theorems the same way everyone else did. I still got the right answers–it just took me six times as much work as my classmates put in.

Knowing all that, I’ve recently decided that it couldn’t hurt to read a few books on writing. I think I’ve talked about some of them here: Orson Scott Card’s How to Write Science Fiction and Fantasy (excellent), Nancy Kress’ Beginnings, Middles, and Ends (also very good, Nancy Kress has a way of explaining that gets through this dense skull), Monica Woods’ Description. (Yep, another great one. I should re-read it, though, since sleeping with it under my pillow isn’t helping.)

The point (yes, there is one) is that all of those mentioned are Writers Digest books. So when someone posted a link on one of my writers forums to the Writers Digest Book Club, I had to give it a look.

Wow. Four books for $11.99 (and shipping, of course). Still, $20 nets me four writing books, and I don’t have to buy anything else. I have to stick with the club for nine months, and they’ll send me those annoying little “We’ll send you this book if you don’t tell us not to” things, but I can handle that. No finding a stamp to refuse–I can go to the website to tell ‘em no. Now THAT I can do.

I’m very excited about the books I’m getting. Plot and Structure by James Scott Bell. So good I remember the title AND author. I got this one from the library a while back, and renewed it three times and read it twice before I reluctantly gave it back. Not only does the man make sense–it’s actually a fun read. (I wouldn’t call any writing book good if it were dull, no matter how much sense it made. But I wouldn’t call most of them “fun” either.)

I’m actually of the belief that I do pretty well on characters. But I’ve heard good things about A Writer’s Guide to Character Traits, and I just couldn’t resist getting it. Yes, this is my idea of a good time.

Write Faster, Write Better Anyone who writes, I think, feels like they waste a lot of time staring at a blank paper or a blinking cursor. At least, every writer I’ve ever asked has. And God knows I’ve been whining a lot lately about my muses going in six directions at once and I don’t have time to chase after. So here’s my answer. I’m hoping this helps.

Hooked This one has been receiving some attention on one of the forums I haunt. The gentleman reading it has posted some quotes that make excellent sense to me, so I’m giving it a shot. Hey, it’s either $5 or free, depending how you look at it. Worth giving it a try.

I wanted to get Writer’s Complete Fantasy Reference too, but I could only get four books in my introductory offer (only four? hmm, perhaps I’m the one netted, ne?) and I found this on the website of my local library. So I’ll order it later if it’s half as helpful as it looks.

I will, of course, praise or complain as I feel compelled, so if you care about my opinions (of course you do, or you wouldn’t have made it this far down the page, right?) watch this space.

Now I’m off to brunch with non-writing friends whom I love but will try to escape ASAP.

I really don’t know why they put up with me.

So remember how I was cussing out my muses for giving me teeny bits and pieces of Fidelis?

Yeah.  They’re at it again.  Only this time they seem to be willing to give me lots–if I just abandon everything else I’ve been working on and follow them.

Not this time.  With Fi they led me into a dark bog and left me.  Will o’ wisp bastards.   So not this time.  I’ll take notes and ponder it, but I’m not writing anything else till I get Taro edited and out the door.

Then…I’m beating them until I have an episode of Fidelis.  I am way too in love with that story to let it go just because they want to be assholes.