April Davila's Blog, page 9

Avoiding Detail Overload in Our Writing

A while back, I wrote a post about how details are the key to writing ourselves out of cliché. I shared my take on what a cliché is and how we, as writers, can weed them out.

The very first response I got to that post was from a reader who said he has been accused of using cliché descriptions but who countered with the argument:

I [would] rather hear: easy reading & page turner, instead of “long and unexpected way to describe a deranged mind. Figurative but way too long. Almost put it aside”

I have to admit, there is definitely something to that.

Detail Overload

If you’ve read my blog for any length of time, you know I’m a big believer in not finishing books that don’t grab you (check out my post on 3 Reasons It’s Okay to Stop Reading That Book if you’re curious). On occasion, I will admit to tiring of a book because of the unending descriptions.

So I wanted to write a post about choosing our details wisely to avoid detail overload, which can be just as bad for a story as a boatload of clichés.

Trust One Detail [image error]

[image error]In The Artful Edit, by Susan Bell, she quotes , master editor, as saying  “…trust one, well-chosen detail to do the work of ten.”

I love that quote because it supports the idea of digging deep for telling details, while at the same time removing any excess that would weigh a story down.

A teacher of mine once said something similar. She said that on our first drafts we should go ahead and drop in all the hyperbolic language we want, to likewise write in all “sky blue” and “fire engine red” clichés that come to mind. It doesn’t matter on the first draft. Those tired images can work just fine as place holders. But when we go back, we should try to edit our writing down to just one perfect adjective. Cut the rest.

That same teacher encouraged us writers to think outside the normal descriptions we already have in our heads. Light doesn’t just shine. It can smooth, dance, and scrape. Consider the homunculus pine tree or the lank marsupial. One of the more fun parts of writing is putting words together in unusual ways, then editing, editing, editing.

We Don’t Have to Suffer

On my first meditation retreat in 2009, the teacher gave a talk about the difference between pain and suffering, and I was NOT getting it. Pain and suffering. They go together like chocolate and peanut butter. To be in pain is to suffer. We suffer because we are in pain. End of story.

The Lesson

After the talk, I joined a small team of meditators in the kitchen for work duty. I stood, knife in hand, as the head cook poured out a box of onions and told us to start dicing. I wasn’t even done cutting the first onion when my eyes began to water.

By the second onion, tears were streaming down my face. I sniffed and heard the woman next to me do the same. The man on the other side of the table turned away and wiped his eyes with the inside of his sleeve.

Pretty soon, I could hardly see for the tears streaming down my face. My eyes burned. They stung. The discomfort quickly edged into pain, yet I found myself giggling at the absurdity of us all standing there, knives in hand, sobbing over onions. The other veggie choppers began to laugh as well.

I was in pain, and I was not suffering. I was, in fact, having fun.

We Don’t Have to Suffer

As writers, we struggle to shut out distractions and find our focus. We deal with writer’s block. We argue with inner critics who seem intent on shutting us down before we even get started. And we do all of this with the hopes of putting our precious work out into the world where someone (somewhere) will not appreciate it.

Writing can be hard. It can even be downright painful, but I’m here to tell you, you don’t have to suffer. I recently published a free guide titled Write More, Suffer Less: 4 Ways Mindfulness Can Help You Be A Happier, More Productive Writer.

In it, I share four ways that mindfulness has helped me in my writing life. The ideas are simple but powerful, and I know you will find them as useful as I have.

Click here to download the guide.

Hang a Lantern on Your Plot Problems

Back when I was doing final revisions on my first novel, I found a small plot hole. It was nothing major, but one of my beta readers noticed it (thanks Summer!) and I couldn’t decide what to do about it. It wasn’t a big enough issue that I wanted to rewrite the whole book to make room for it, but I did feel like it need to be addressed. Believe it or not, I found my answer in a book.

[image error]

I was on vacation a few months before that, reading “Where’d You Go Bernadette” by Maria Semple, and something caught my attention.

No spoilers, because you really should read it – it’s wonderfully charming and funny – but in a letter from one character to another a mom is complaining about her daughter’s school. It’s not the first time this character has voiced dissatisfaction with the school and a reader MIGHT start to wonder why didn’t they just switch schools.

Hang a Lantern on It

To address the “why don’t they change schools” issue, Semple drops this little gem:

So why didn’t I switch schools? The other good schools I could have sent Bee to…well, to get to them, I’d have to drive past a Buca di Beppo. I hated my life enough without having to drive past a Buca di Beppo four times a day.

And then the story moves on. It’s the only mention of Buca di Beppo in the whole book. That’s all the explanation we get – and it totally works. Brilliant. Semple took something that was a bit of a hole and, instead of revamping with long backstory, she just hung a lantern on it, like: yep, that’s there, moving on.

(Side note: my writing buddies and I often use this phrase, “hang a lantern on it,” and I realized when I sat down to write this that I didn’t actually know how it became a thing. I mean, it seems obvious enough – if you hang a lantern on something, you bring light to it – but a quick google search revealed that it became a common turn of phrase in the 1980s when it was used by Chris Mathews, a former chief of staff to Speaker of the House of Representatives, when he suggested that politicians needed to get ahead of bad press by admitting and defining their problems by “hanging a lantern” on them. The Internet said it, so it must be true.)

Turn a Problem into an Asset

Then, I was thinking about those hanging lanterns when I sat down with the kids to watch “Tangled.” For those of you without children, it’s Disney’s take on the Rapunzel story.

The guy who pulls the long-haired princess from her tower is wanted by the local authorities and there must be eight or nine times in the movie where we’re reminded of this fact by a wanted poster. But the poster bit doesn’t feel repetitive because every time we see one, the dude’s nose is different. It becomes a running gag.

What I realized as I was watching it was that the gag completely distracts from the fact that they needed those wanted poster beats in the story, and they would have gotten very boring if the story creators had tried to pretend the repetition wasn’t an issue. Instead, by turning attention toward the posters, they created a story element that worked really well. It’s super silly, and emphasizes the character’s vanity.

Finding Somewhere to Hang My Own Lantern

So I took a lantern to my own story. I found a way to say: “yep, that’s not quite explained in full,” and then moved on (and if you read it and didn’t notice, then I’ll say it was a successful fix – if you haven’t read it: click here.)

Writing Brain and Editing Brain

The older I get, the more I recognize my writing brain and my editing brain as two distinct parts of myself.

Writing Brain

My writing brain is creative. It has all kinds of crazy ideas. This is the brain I need engaged when I’m working on a first draft. My writing brain is also highly sensitive. It can clam up in a heartbeat if it doesn’t feel enthusiastic support (and I mean stupidly enthusiastic).

This is why I don’t tell anyone what I’m working on until I have a first draft down on the page. When I have, in the past, shared an idea before it was a draft I have inevitably gotten discouraged. I don’t fully understand why, but it has to do with the energy I feel around an idea. Somehow talking about it dissipates that energy like a bubble popping and turning into stringy bits of soap scum.

But I can also get discouraged by my own damn self. My inner critic is loudest when I’m working on a first draft. And man, does it get loud. Thankfully, my mindfulness practice has helped me to tame that little voice. I’ve gotten quite good at acknowledging it, dismissing it, and continuing on with my writing.

It’s kind of like a little voicemail I’ve set up in my head. When my inner critic comes calling I just say “Thank you, but I’m not accepting criticism at this point. Please call back at a later time.”

Editing Brain

Once I have a draft, then my hyper-critical editing brain takes over to help me make it better. I like to envision that my inner critic has been sitting in the corner, dejected and impatient, and then I turn to her and say, “let’s do this” and she gets so excited.

My editing brain is mean. I need it to be mean. I need it to read my work with the assumption that it sucks and then help me to see where I can improve it. Thankfully, she is really good at this.

She is also super tough. I am most resilient when I’m in editing mode. I can discuss the work with other people, hear their thoughts, take their feedback (usually) and hardly even cry at all (most of the time).

They Don’t Get Along

To be productive as a writer, I have to keep these two parts of my brain as far apart as possible. That’s why I tend to write through an entire draft without editing, then let it rest for a while, then take another pass at it.

If I’m in editing mode and decide to scrap something (say a chapter or scene) and have to rewrite from scratch I have a hell of time. I write a sentence and my inner critic tells me its crap, so I delete it. I do this over and over until I gradually re-engage my writing brain and tell my inner critic to sit down for a bit.

Even with shorter pieces, like this blog post or freelance work, Ideally, I need a night between writing and editing. I usually write the first draft, let it sit overnight, take a more critical pass at it, and then either repeat the process again, or call it done.

If you’re interested in learning more about how to be the boss of your own brain so you can write more effectively, check out my Sit Write Here coaching program. By integrating mindfulness practice into my writing training, I help writers overcome writer’s block and build a regular habit of writing so they can finally finish their book.

Working With Beta Readers (Bonus Round)

A while back I wrote this blog post on 7 Tips for Working With Beta Readers, and I recently had a conversation that inspired me to add a few more thoughts on the topic. Consider this a bonus round.

The conversation was with a client who, since going through my Sit Write Here coaching program, has continued to attend workshops with me. He told me he was feeling a little frustrated because his beta readers were taking a long time to get back to him with their feedback on one of his projects (he has a few in the works).

I suggested he reach out and touch base with his readers, to gently ask how it’s coming and to schedule a time to talk with them. Well, he did, and every single one of his readers had more or less forgotten that they promised to read the manuscript. One even asked the writer to re-send it. Ug. To have waited months for feedback and realize that a reader doesn’t even have the draft was super frustrating. Understandably.

Set Expectations

Before you send a draft to a beta reader, be sure to ask them if they have time to read it and GIVE THEM A DEADLINE. You don’t have to be a hardass about it, but say something like, “I’m hoping to start doing edits in about two months. Would you have time to read it in the next six weeks and then we could get together to discuss it sometime during the week of (be specific)?”

Writers often feel funny giving deadlines to beta readers if they themselves are not on an official deadline, but if you don’t put a time frame on these things they can stretch out for years. Years!

When you ask, always give them an out. Tell them that if this timeline doesn’t work for them, you will almost certainly have more drafts that need feedback in future. I like the phrase “I can save you for a fresh read a little further along in the process.” Because the truth is, most people will be excited to be asked and you don’t want them to think they’re missing out if they don’t have time right now.

Build in Cushion

If you do happen to have a deadline from an outside source, make sure to build in ample cushion. For example, if your editor wants your edits in three months and you need a month to do the work, don’t tell your beta readers two months. Tell them six weeks. Because something always comes up. And if nothing comes up then lucky you, you’re ahead of schedule.

Follow Up

When you send the draft, reiterate the deadline. I always like to hand (or even send) my beta readers paper versions, because it’s nice to read on paper and printing out hundreds of pages is a pain. I always include a little thank you note on the top of the manuscript, reminding them of when we will meet to discuss it.

Then, a few weeks before we’re supposed to meet up, I drop them an email to ask how it’s coming. Often this is the point at which they actually start reading. That’s why I do it a few weeks ahead of time.

People are busy, but they do want to help. Meet them half way by being super clear about your timeline and then reminding them along the way (once or *maybe* twice – don’t check in more than that, and DO NOT start talking story – not yet).

When it comes time to actually sit down and hear their thoughts – refer back to this post for my suggestions on how best to navigate that part.

Good luck!

Talkin’ ‘Bout the ‘Trich

My husband told ChatGPT to write hip-hop lyrics about ostriches in the style of Dr. Dre and Snoop Dogg. It wrote a whole song in a matter of seconds:

Verse 1 (Dr. Dre): Yo, check it out, we’re talkin’ ostriches, These big ol’ birds, they’re so conspicuous, With their long necks and their skinny legs, They’re lookin’ at us like we’re some kinda kegs.

Verse 2 (Snoop Dogg): Yeah, you know what’s up, we’re talkin’ ’bout the ‘trich, The king of the desert, he’s a real pimp, He’s got feathers like silk and a strut like a king, He’s a badass bird, he’s the real thing.

Chorus: Ostriches, ostriches, they’re so fly, With their big ol’ wings and their beady eyes, They’re the kings of the desert, they’re so sly, Ostriches, ostriches, they’re the real guys.

Verse 3 (Dr. Dre): You might think they’re slow, but they’re really fast, They can run like the wind, it’s a real blast, They’re the tallest bird in the whole wide world, And when they’re struttin’, man, it’s like they’ve got a girl.

Verse 4 (Snoop Dogg): And don’t even try to mess with their eggs, They’ll peck you up and leave you for dead, They’re the rulers of the desert, they’re the real kings, Ostriches, man, they’re the real thing.

Chorus: Ostriches, ostriches, they’re so fly, With their big ol’ wings and their beady eyes, They’re the kings of the desert, they’re so sly, Ostriches, ostriches, they’re the real guys.

Outro: So there you have it, we’ve talked about the ‘trich, The king of the desert, he’s a real pimp, With his long neck and his skinny legs, He’s the badass bird, he’s the real keg.

Any musicians out there interested in putting this to music?

PS – when I told my husband I was going to share this with y’all, he made the image at the top of this post using DALL E. Here are a few of the other images it/he came up with.

Fear of Judgment

Worrying about how people will respond to our writing can be paralyzing. In fact, it’s number two on my list of things that masquerade as “writer’s block.” And make no mistake, fear of judgment is a powerful thing, even for those of us who insist we don’t care what people think. When it comes right down to it, we usually do care (and that’s a good thing – if only because it can help keep us from getting sued).

Memoir

Where I see fear of judgment crop of the most is with my clients who are working on memoir. Generally people don’t decide to write about their lives because everything has been perfect and uneventful. No. They’re writing about some really hard things: death, abuse, addiction. And these things rarely happen in isolation. They involve others who might not want to be a part of a public narrative.

To deal with fear of judgment in memoir you have three options:

Get permission. Talk to the people you’re writing about (or let them read a draft) and get their buy-in. This has the added bonus of creating opportunity for reconciliation. Get comfortable with the fact that there will likely be blowback. (Even if you start with #1, you might end up here.) Be as honest as you can in your account of the story and (when you’re ready to publish) consult a lawyer.Wait for ’em to die. This works best if you’re writing about someone significantly older than you, but even then, it’s not ideal. Start with #1 if you can.

Now for the stories we make up…

Fiction

There are two ways fear of judgment pops up when writing fiction.

The first is that you’re worried people will recognize themselves in your characters. This is an easy fix. Just give the fictional character a significant characteristic that doesn’t match the real person. If the person you’ve modeled your character after is fat, make your character thin. If they have beautiful hair, make the character bald.

Here’s the weird thing: people will see themselves in your work in ways you can’t even anticipate. They will see themselves as the hero (even if you used them as a model for your villain) or they will insist that they always do that thing that one character does (clicking pens, popping gum) so they must have been the inspiration. It’s unavoidable. Practice saying “it’s fiction.”

The second way fear of judgment gets in the way of fiction is that we’re worried about how people will react to what we’re writing about. Maybe your story touches on a delicate subject (such as abortion or gun violence), or maybe you fudged an historical detail (for example you’re writing a story set in 1842 and reference a book that wasn’t published until 1843). It’s called artistic license and you’re allowed, but it doesn’t mean you won’t hear from readers.

There’s an easy fix for this too. Create a document called “Author’s Note.” Every time you feel the need to defend yourself to your readers, write up your defense in this file.

In my latest project, I actually did reference a book that hadn’t yet been published at the time my story is set (it was too perfect not to use, and it was published just months later), so I wrote up a little blurb for my author’s note: “You might notice that the book I referenced in part three…” And you know what? By the time I actually got to a finished draft I had cut that whole part anyway, but writing up a little blurb about why I was making the choice helped me to get over the fear of potential judgment and keep writing.

Identifying Fear

Once you realize you’re dealing with fear of judgment, these are the steps you can take. The biggest challenge with this form of writer’s block is that it can be difficult to even recognize. That’s where mindset comes in. When I work with my clients in my Sit Write Here coaching program, I start by teaching them mindfulness techniques that can help them figure out why they sometimes avoid their writing. Sometimes it’s fear of judgment. Sometimes it’s that they’re trying to write in the wrong format. In my work, I’ve come up with 10 things that often masquerade as “writer’s block.”

To learn more, click here.

Cultivate Your Voice as a Writer

Your voice as a writer consists of the specific ways in which you tell stories. It’s made up of the words you choose, the way you structure your sentences, the overall tone of your prose. It’s what makes your writing uniquely yours. I like to think of voice as the way writing sounds in my head as I’m reading: snarky, timid, informative. So that’s what voice is, but how do we cultivate our voice as a writer?

Practice

I know, I know, that’s not what you wanted to hear, but this is one of those instances where there’s no way around it. You have to practice. In fact, finding your voice as a writer is the BEST argument I’ve ever heard for keeping a journal and writing every day.

I don’t usually go in for all this “you have to write every day” nonsense, because I feel like it puts a lot of pressure on writers, which can be crippling. You don’t have to work on your novel/memoir/essay/poems/etc. every day, but you should seriously consider doing at least a little writing in a journal (paper or digital) every day.

The reason is that when we write for ourselves, with no expectation of publication of any kind, what we are doing is simply connecting our brains to our hands. We have a thought, it comes out onto the page or screen, and the more we do that the better we get at actually capturing our thoughts in writing, the way we think them, the way they might come out of our mouths if we were using our actual voice.

Enjoy the Process

If you’re new to journaling, I’d invite you to pair it with something you already do: that morning cup of coffee or tea, your bedtime routine, anything. After a while, it will just become a habit, a daily way to improve your ability to authentically capture your thoughts on the page.

Have fun with it. Buy a nice journal. I love the Nanami Paper journals (yes, $28 is a lot to pay for a journal, but the pages are super thin, so it holds 480 pages in a slim bind with faint lines – it’s a work of art). I write every day and one of these lasts me about two years. I also have a nice fountain pen that was a Christmas gift from the kids one year. As writers, we don’t have to buy a lot of gear, so I say splurge. If you spend $50 on two years of journaling, that’s money well spent, an investment in your voice as a writer.

And Then What?

What you do with that writing doesn’t matter AT ALL. Delete the file. Burn the pages. Stack the journals up on your shelves. I keep all my journals, but I don’t know why. For years I told myself that I was keeping them so I could go back and mine them for material some day, but I’ve been journaling regularly for decades have only once, recently, gone back to read anything I put down. I just like having them.

More than a record of my life, they are my daily practice as a writer. Seeing them on the shelf is a reminder to me that actually, yes, I have put sh*tton of work into honing my skills as a writer. And those are just the pages that no one will ever see.

What do you think? Do you journal regularly? Do you have another method for developing voice? Would love to hear your thoughts.

How to Write Faster

One of the best lessons I learned by doing NaNoWriMo was that I can absolutely write faster than I ever thought I could. All it took was one simple thing to quadruple my writing speed. Who knew?

Any Writing is Good Writing

Years ago, when I first started getting up early to write before work, I would be super proud of myself if I got 500 words in before the kids woke up. That took me about an hour. Not terrible. Hey, I was writing. Even 100 words a day adds up. But I now know, I can write faster.

These days, I’m writing about 2,000 words an hour.

Write Faster

I discovered that I could write at that pace during NaNoWriMo. There were days when I just didn’t have much time and I had to write fast, so I decided to try what the NaNoWriMo kids call a “writing sprint.” Basically, you just decide to write a certain number of words in a set period of time, and do it. For all you runners out there – think of it as interval training.

For me, a good goal was 1,000 words in 30 minutes. I would scribble my end time on a post-it note and stick it to my computer screen. Then I would write. About fifteen minutes in I would feel my shoulders slump and I would want to stop, but I would push on until I hit my predetermined end time and you know what? I hit my goal every time. It was awesome. Then I would get up, stretch, make some tea, use the bathroom, and go again. It really does feel like sprinting, and the breaks are important for catching your breath (so to speak).

Training

After writing like that for a couple of weeks, I found the pace much easier to maintain. Those sprints were excellent training. These days, I’m writing about 2,000 words in an hour without really stressing about it. It’s shocking to me, but true. I simply trained myself to write faster.

The trick at first is to not give a damn about quality. Those first few sprints are hard. It’s best to not even look at what you just wrote. You have to completely silence your inner critic. Just tell that little voice in your head to shut up for 30 minutes.

If 1,000 words feels like too much, start with less. Maybe do a test run to see how much you’re currently writing in 30 minutes, then add 100 words to your goal for tomorrow. You have to find a word count goal that is obtainable, but pushes your limits. You should feel a little stressed while you’re doing it. That’s how you get faster. Maybe start with 500 words in half an hour. Then, next week, try 700 words in the same amount of time.

More Words

As I got used to the faster pace, I found that my brain anticipated better. The words came easier and with fewer glaring blemishes. It’s all still first draft material, but it’s not as ugly as it used to be. It will require less editing.

Of course, the main benefit of writing four times faster than I used to is that I’m hitting my goals more quickly. A draft of 100,000 words would have taken me 200 days of writing before. Now I can bust that first draft out in 50 days of writing. Less than two months. That, in itself, is encouraging and gets me super excited about writing.

How fast do you write? Maybe it doesn’t matter to you at all. Or maybe you think 2,000 words an hour is child’s play. I would love to hear your thoughts on it.

Track Your Writing

When we’re working on a longer project, like a novel or memoir, it can be easy to lose sight of how much work we’re actually doing. I see this happen in two ways.

The first group of people *think* they’re writing, but really all they do is think about writing. Very few words make it on the page.The second group of people actually do write consistently, but as the months and years go by they *feel* like they haven’t done enough work.

For both groups of people (or if you’re not sure which category you fall into) I highly recommend tracking your writing. So let’s talk about how to do that. I categorize my methods under low tech (pen and paper) and high tech (Scrivener).

Good old pen and paper.

You can easily track your writing by physically noting how much you write each day (word count or time). Maybe devote a page in your journal to this running list, or maybe it’s just a sheet of paper you keep on your desk.

A while back, when I was pushing to finish a draft of my second book, I set a goal for roughly how many words I wanted in each chapter and colored in a square on a piece of graph paper for each 100 words. (read that blog post here) I used a different color for each day so I could see at a glance how much I was writing. Here’s what it looked like:

There was something so satisfying about coloring in those little squares.

Use Scrivener to Track Your Writing

For the more tech savvy, you can track your writing in Scrivener. The software has two ways to keep yourself honest.

The first is the daily word count function. You enter your desired word count and your target date and the software tells you how many words you have to write each day (it even adjusts if you miss a day). You can read my full how-to for the Scrivener Project Targets here. This is great if you’re focused on word count. Here’s what it looks like:

If you’re more focused on BIC time (butt in chair), I suggest using Scrivener’s Project History function. In a glance it shows you how much you’ve written daily. I looks like this:

And no, I didn’t write 14,156 words in one day. I copied and pasted a chapter from another project. I don’t use this chart to assess word count, but it’s great for showing me which days I actually opened my project and worked on it. Even if the word count is negative, which sometimes it should be when I’m editing, I know I got some good BIC time (or not – you’ll notice I didn’t open the project for five whole days, Aug 24-28).

Keeping Yourself Honest

The whole point with these types of tracking systems is to be honest with ourselves about whether we’re actually doing the thing we say we want to do.

The only thing you have to do before claiming the title of “writer” is to actually write. If your project takes years, it takes years. Just keep writing. And if you realize that (as much as you want to be a writer) you’re not actually writing, then it’s time to take a look at why. Maybe check out my Sit Write Here writing coaching program and book a time to chat with me about how I can help. (I love helping.)

Happy writing, my friends.