Geri Schear's Blog, page 2

How to Start a Novel when You Haven’t a Clue

Over the last few weeks we have looked at the various elements that the writer uses as part of his or her process. Today, I want to start a guide for the perplexed. How to write a novel (or a long story or even a piece of non-fiction) if you don’t have the slightest idea what you’re doing.

Forget all the rules and all the advice you’ve been given so far and just start with what you know. Even if you don’t know who your characters are, what they want, or where the story ought to go. Famed author John Fowles had an idea for the book that became The French Lieutenant’s Woman. All he knew was there was a woman standing alone on a pier. Fowles, splendid writer that he was, waited until he knew more about the mystery woman before he began writing. Wise people might do likewise, but if that’s not your speed, you might try it this way:

Write the bit you have in mind. Let’s say it’s a car crash. That’s really all you know. You might imagine the time of day and the general location where it happens, but that’s about it. Just write what you know. You may find, as you go, that other details emerge. A young woman is bleeding. Who is she? Will she survive? That’s up to you.

Where do you go next? You have options, my friend. Here are some:

Just keep going. Write the story as if you were reading a book. Don’t worry about the details or the structure, you can figure it out later. Right now, just get it down. As you write, you may realise that you’ll need to go back before the accident to add some important information. Just leave a note to yourself so you can get back to that later. Don’t break your flow if the story continues to trickle out of your brain.

Go back a bit. It doesn’t have to be the beginning, perhaps it’s just the scene before. You have an angry man yelling at his family, complaining that they are going to be late. Late for what? It doesn’t matter. Just write whatever you have in mind.

Create a spider diagram. Again, just fill in the bits that you have figured out. Who are these people? Will they survive? Do they hit another car? If so, what happens to those people? A spider diagram will help you to see further afield than that one incident. The real story may not really begin until years after that accident.

List your questions. You don’t need to know any details; list the questions. The who, what, where, when, how, and why. What leads to the accident and what are the consequences of it? Fill in the answers as they come to you.

Create a timeline. Once you have some idea of the various events that happen in the story — keeping in mind the importance of cause and effect: I was injured in a car accent and my memory has been impacted, so that makes it hard for me to form relationships, for instance. Your timeline should be a series of “because this happened, then that resulted, which caused this to happen…” etc.

Be prepared to do the real work later. It’s not unusual to find there are problems with your timeline, or perhaps your characters don’t behave as you anticipated. You will need to do a lot of work in putting all the bits and pieces together, but, hey! you’re writing a book! It should be hard, or everyone would do it.

Don’t stop writing once you’ve started. If you wait until you have answers to all your questions you may never get back to the story again. Don’t worry about making sense right from the start. You can write a variety of scenes that don’t seem to fit together, but it will work eventually.

Hush. You may be tempted to tell others about your story, but don’t. Keep your mouth shut, and pour all your ideas, thoughts, and worries into the novel. Let your friends read it when it’s published.

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The Writing Process: Know Yourself

“Know thyself,” the ancient Greeks urged. Even today, we hear endless stories of people embarking on voyages of self-discovery. They are always voyages, have you noticed? It’s never a hike or a mountain climb. Frankly, I would have thought that the verb ‘spelunking’ would be more appropriate. (Spelunking, if you didn’t know, means exploring caves.) I think I should start a new trend: self-spelunking. What do you think? Will it catch on?

Over the years as a writer’s career continues, he or she will learn an enormous amount about themselves. But if you want to write, you need to know some important things about yourself before you start. Consider these questions and answer them honestly.

How good is your work ethic?

Do you generally work the hours you’re supposed to? Or are there times when you start late and leave early? How much time do you spend making / drinking coffee or chatting with your colleagues? If you are given a big project to work on, do you get started on it right away, or do you procrastinate until the last minute? How much of your own work do you offload to others? Have you ever stolen someone else’s ideas and presented them as your own?

If you behave like a lazy toe-rag with an employer, why do you think you’d behave any better when you’re working for yourself? As a writer, there is no place to hide. You cannot blame peers because you didn’t get your daily quota done. If you spend the time goofing off, then you will never finish writing anything. Also, if you steal other writers’ stories, you can expect to pay the price.

How well do you handle solitude?

If you’re not used to working alone, you may find this very hard to get used to. Some writers like to work in cafés or parks in order to feel they are not too cut off from humanity, but I wonder how much work they manage to accomplish. There are other ways of handling the discomfort of being so much alone. You can play music quietly as long as it isn’t too distracting. Leave a door or window ajar so you can hear sounds drifting in from outside or from another room. You can let your cat or dog stay in your work space with you. Of course, the downside to all these clever tricks is that they also serve as distractions. The best way to write, to really write, is to focus on the page and the words you are putting there. If you focus well enough, you won’t even realise that you are alone. Besides, you have all your imaginary friends to talk to.

Are you able to work independently?

Depending on your point of view, being able to work independently is either the best or the worst thing about being a writer. I love being able to focus exclusively on my project, to do my own research and to know exactly where I am with every detail. But a lot of people like being able to dump — uh, share — tasks with others. You can, of course, learn to be independent, but you must be willing to do so. Also, I confess, there have been times when I have asked other people to research various items for me. Most often it’s because the item falls into the category of things they already know about or are interested in. I know that if I ask BFF Jane to look up some obscure item of history (one time it was what post boxes in London looked like during a specific period), she won’t only get the facts, but will find a tonne of related data that I can find a use for. Those instances are rare, though. Most of the time, I prefer to do my own work, even the drudge work like mailing manuscripts — not that that is necessary these days.

There are writers who will use research assistants and I have no problem with that. But the actually writing part of the job belongs to the writer alone. I was once told that a certain best-selling author hasn’t written her own books in years. The publisher has them ghost-written and then releases them under the name of Ms Success. Since then, I’ve spotted another highly regarded author whose style abruptly changed a few years ago. Of course, perhaps his style simply evolved. Even if it transpires that either or both of these authors were currently relying on ghosts, they didn’t start out that way. They earned their reputation by dint of hard work and sacrifice.

How well do you handle failure and disappointment?

Being a writer isn’t all jolly japes and hanging out with the Clooneys. A lot of it is about failure. Even Stephen King was rejected many times before Carrie became a huge success. If failure cripples or frightens you, if believe that you are entitled to succeed, or if you have a history of fit-throwing when you hear the word ‘no’, then writing may not be the path for you. Yes, you can self-publish and ignore all the potential nay-sayers, but unless your work is very, very good, and you get very, very lucky, your success is hardly a foregone conclusion. The only caveat I can think of is having enough money for it not to matter.

For most of us mortals, though, success is earned by dint of hard work and refusing to be deterred by failure. It may take a long time. The cost may be higher than you’d like to think of in terms of personal relationships, wealth, and self-esteem. But the rewards, when they come, are worth it.

Do you have the ‘write’ stuff?

Even mediocre writers can become good in time, just as a very average pianist can manage to play a few easy pieces more-or-less fluently with enough practice. But let’s be honest: there’s a difference between being a hard grafter and a talented beginner. With all the best will in the unknown universe, talent cannot be learned. You can learn technique, and you can master many of the elements of the craft of writing, but you must decide early on if you have what it takes.

Many would-be writers were told when they were young that they were ‘born writers.’ Our essays were the ones read out to the class. If that is you, then perhaps you do have that write-stuff. But before you admit defeat, take heart from this quote from author Robert Benchley:

“It took me fifteen years to discover I had no talent for writing, but I couldn’t give it up because by that time I was too famous“. 

So, who are you?

Are you one of the hardy few who is too stubborn to quit? Do you spit in the eye of failure?

If, after reading the questions I posted, and if your answers make you feel uneasy, perhaps writing isn’t for you. But if, despite everything, you still want to write, then go for it. The self-discipline and focus can be learned if writing matters enough to you. So, my friend… does it?

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The Writing Process: Relationships

It should be obvious that even writers are obliged to treat other people with respect and kindness. Unfortunately, there are some who think that being a writer entitles them to, well, whatever they want. There are even those who have never actually produced a full work of fiction, be it ever so short, who think the world owes them something due to their, ahem, genius.

I’d like to think it’s the younger, more impressionable type of person who falls for this sort of thinking, but I believe we have all heard stories of those who throw their weight around in a, “Do you know who I am?” fashion. Not that such behaviour is limited to writers, of course. Compared with (some) actors we writers are almost saintly. Then again, we don’t have people flattering us from sun up to sun down. Mums don’t count, at least, not in this instance.

I once toyed with an idea for a story in which a novice writer sees one of her heroes, a literary giant, in a bookshop. He is behaving like a boor and she can’t decide if that should put her off reading his books. I never wrote the story because I couldn’t pin down how I felt about it. I still can’t. I can understand both sides of the argument too well.

One of the things that bothers editors, agents, and publishers most is when novice writers are abusive towards them. “Stop what you’re doing,” the cover letter says, “and pay attention to the greatest novel ever written…” Yes, people do actually write things like this.

Most of you reading this will be shaking your head and saying, “This is obvious. Even little kids know they should play nicely with others.” However, in this age of entitlement, it seems that many adults could learn lessons from five-year olds. I’m not just talking about actual or would-be writers, here, it’s everywhere in society. I believe in XYZ, and if you don’t, then you must be an evil or stupid person. Or as Paul Simon once eloquently put it, One man’s ceiling is another man’s floor.

Manners Matter

When I was still in single digits, I was taught both at home and in school the rules of etiquette. Don’t put your elbows on the table. Don’t push in front of others in a queue. Say please and thank you and may I. I’m not sure children are taught this any more. Judging by the behaviour of some adults, I don’t think such lessons have been taught for a long time.

Sometimes I wonder what the customs officials in New York made of Oscar Wilde when he — allegedly — said, “I have nothing to declare but my genius.”

Are manners old-fashioned? Perhaps. But treating people as you would like to be treated can never go out of style. No one likes a bully. That seems to have been forgotten by many people. Instead, today’s rhetoric is look out for number one. Add a belief in your own superiority and you have a truly toxic concoction.

Away with the fairies

We use this expression in Ireland for when people are lost in their own thoughts. I’m prone to such visits to the fairies; I suspect most writers are. Unfortunately, such episodes can be perceived as rudeness. We are figuring out a plot point, or trying to name our hero, and then someone points out that we have been holding up the supermarket line for ten minutes. Oops!

Listening to the call of the wee folk isn’t done intentionally, but it can still seem rude to other people. In Ireland, such lapses tend to be viewed fairly generously. “Don’t worry, love, it happens to the best of us,” is what I often hear. The fact that I am a woman of several decades probably helps.

Being caught up in one’s own thoughts is an occupational hazard for a writer. A snippet of overheard conversation or even just the way the light filters through the trees can set us off. This is one of the few examples of a writer behaving in an attention-getting way. Provided, of course, it isn’t done just for show.

The Margo Channing Philosophy

In All About Eve, the main character, Margo (played in the film by Bette Davis), says,

Funny business, a woman’s career – the things you drop on your way up the ladder so you can move faster. You forget you’ll need them again when you get back to being a woman.

Eventually, we all have to come to terms with our own humanity and mortality. You may treat other people with disdain, but there may come a time when you need them again. Don’t be so certain they will forget or forgive your previous behaviour. I’m not saying you should behave kindly because it’s in your own interests to do so, but because it’s the right thing. Which brings us to…

The Utter-Nutter Caveat

Several years ago, I read a chapter of my work-in-progress to the writing group gang. It was generally well received, but one individual took exception. I’m talking serious exception. The subject of law suits was bandied about. Why? Because one of my characters had the same last name as she. I must admit, I did know her last name, but I had forgotten it while I was writing. It wasn’t a particularly uncommon name either. The person in question was not buying it. I was trying to insult her.

Others in the group pointed out that a) the name was hardly unique to her, and b) the character in question was lovely. It didn’t matter. She demanded a copy of the chapter because she wanted a second — or third — opinion from someone she trusted. A couple of weeks later, she returned the chapter and said no more about it. She didn’t offer an apology or even an excuse. She expected things to carry on as usual. As you can imagine, I subsequently distanced myself from her and she quit the group not long after.

To the best of my knowledge, I had never treated this person with anything other than polite interest. She had joined the writers’ group because she wanted to socialise. She made it clear that she would have preferred if we had been a knitters group, or gathered to talk about angels. Yes, really. Writing was just an excuse to be there. What I learned from my interaction with her is that even if you behave as kindly and generously to everyone you meet, there will still be the bonkers brigade who cannot forgive that you can do something they can’t. They may not have any interest in writing, themselves, but that’s not the point. They don’t like anyone to be different, to be talented or, worst of all, successful. My advice: continue to be as kind as you would with anyone else, but watch your back.

Bridges burned

I often think that writers have it easy compared with actors. We can remain anonymous if we so choose. We don’t have to audition before a crowd of sceptics. And if our work is rejected, we can lick our wounds in private. That said, some writers can’t be satisfied if they don’t throw a strop. Some write the most appalling hate mail to the poor sod who rejected their story. Death threats, name calling, and abuse of every kind comes flooding out from these people like muck from a sewer.

How many of these darlings go on to be famous? I haven’t seen any statistics, but I suspect the number is extremely low. Editors et al talk to one another. If you think they don’t warn their colleagues about particularly toxic writers, let’s just say your naïveté is charming. Misplaced, but charming.

Treat people as you would like to be treated. More, treat them as you would like the person you love most to be treated. Even if you don’t do it to be a decent human being, remember Margo Channing: the people you meet on your way up the ladder will be waiting for you as you make your way down.

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The Writing Process: Influences

One of the things that really puts a crimp in the style of would-be writers is feedback saying a story is, “Too derivative.” Say the story is hackneyed, that the grammar is abysmal, or that the ending is flat, and we can understand what those things mean. We can work on fixing them. But what does too derivative mean?

It means what it says on the lid: it’s too heavily influenced by one easily-recognisable writer, or a specific style. It other words, sorry, Charlie, but it’s not original.

We all want our work to be original, don’t we? I mean, there are already well-known writers called Cormac McCarthy or JRR Tolkien, or Margaret Atwood. Why should we need another?

We don’t. We want writers who are clearly, unmistakably, themselves.

Young writers who are new to the craft do sometimes emulate their favourite writer. For me, it was Steinbeck. It took years for me to stop writing paragraphs of adjectives in the hope of sounding ‘arty’. In a way, clinging to a favourite author is a bit like a novice swimmer relying on water wings.

Most writers who produce stories that smack strongly of another, successful writer, do so purely subconsciously. If you have devoured every word that Roddy Doyle, for instance, ever wrote, then it’s not surprising that Roddy creeps into the things you write. Is that really such a bad thing?

Yes.

You don’t want someone to read your story and immediately think, “Oh, this is a knock-off.” You want readers to look for your books and stories because they stand out, because they are like nothing else on the bookshelf. So how do you find and develop your own unique voice?

Developing your own authentic style is one of the hardest things you will ever do as a writer, and to be honest I don’t know how any of us do it. Some people seem to be graced with the gift of a individuality right from the moment they start writing. Most of us, though, have to develop that voice over a period of years. Yes, I said years. But there are some things that can help.

Read widely. Try not to become enamoured of just one writer. It’s hard to avoid sounding like an echo of that person if you immerse yourself in their work alone. Better to read as widely as possible. Read as many different genres as you can. Read contemporary fiction. Read the classics. Read plays, short stories, novels and essays. Yes, I’ve said this before, but it’s important. The more broadly you read, the greater the likelihood that you will be able to develop a voice of your own. There may be whispers of this or that writer, but you will still sound like you.

Keep a journal. Get used to writing about the events of the day expressed in your own voice. Not only is this good practice, but you’re writing for yourself alone, not to impress anyone else.

Experiment. Write in a variety of different styles. Write in the first person, and in the third person. Write in the present tense and in the past tense. Try different things and decide what you like best. Keep in mind, though, that different stories may require different approaches.

Steal from actors. Have you ever seen different actors play the same role? I’m a Hamlet fan and I’ve seen the play and film versions about a dozen times. It’s fascinating how each actor who plays that part manages to make the role his (or her) own. Try to understand your characters as well as a great actor understands their role. Get under the skin, into the bone and marrow of the character and let them dictate how their story should be told. If your character is individual enough, your style will be too.

Talk it out. Try dictating the story. MS Word, for instance, has a dictation option built in. It’s not perfect, but it will help you to sound more like ‘you’ when you write. You can record on your phone or any other device that’s handy if you prefer.

Edit ruthlessly. “Kill your darlings,” as Arthur Quiller-Couch famously said. In my editing of this piece, I have cut about eight paragraphs and each one contained a phrase I liked. I didn’t cut them because I liked my writing so well, but because the phrasing was too showy, too ‘look at me!’ I want you, the reader, to take note of the content, not my spiffy sentences. So, yes. murder those little darlings, especially if they smack too much of someone else.

Don’t give up. Style creeps up on you. One day you will happen upon something you wrote months or years earlier and be amazed at how good and how you it is.

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The Writing Process: Imagination

Many years ago I met a man who was, I think, the strangest person I have ever encountered. I will call him Sam. Scary Sam, we called him. He even called himself that, with a chilling chuckle and a dangerous stare.

I met him at a seminar on writing. He sat quietly a few seats down from me, a bemused expression on his face. Afterwards, as I was discussing the process of writing with an acquaintance, Sam approached me. “I want to write,” he said. “How do I start?” Thus began one of the most frustrating and confusing periods of my writing career.

Sam had never written anything. More to the point, he had never read a novel, watched a movie or a play. He’d never watched a television programme, not even the news. The only things that he had ever engaged with was non-fiction, and even there his knowledge and understanding were tainted with conspiracy theories and his own peculiar brand of religion. He had, I discovered, experienced a strange and closeted childhood. He knew no fairy tales, no nursery rhymes. His world was purely black and white.

You’re probably asking yourself, as I did many times after I met him, why such a man would want to write.

“To tell the story of my life,” he said. I was later to discover that this was code for sharing his religion “with millions,” as he optimistically pronounced.

Take a moment, if you will, to imagine how useless I felt during that initial encounter. A blind man asking to learn how to paint would be nothing compared with this. How can a man with no imagination, no willingness to develop one, learn how to write? It didn’t help that Sam had been home-schooled, thus his relationship even with facts was dubious.

I had suggested that he read some short stories. Easy things. Stories that would give him an understanding of how to craft a work of words. He claimed that he couldn’t get on with stories. Stories were a fiction, and only the truth matters. I tried explaining that fiction can be as truthful as any non-fiction work. More so, in fact. Sam wasn’t having it. Stories, he told me, are just things someone made up. In other words, they were a waste of his time.

At that point, I suggested that he turn his attention to autobiographies. I reminded him that I am not a biographer, and recommended some classes on the topic that might suit him better. I wasn’t merely out of my depth, I was hovering over the Mariana Trench and sinking fast.

For a while, I heard nothing from him. Then he showed up one afternoon to show me some opening chapters he had written with some help from a ‘few’ biography teachers.

It took me a week to read those three, thin chapters. They were, what’s the word?

Bad.

Really bad.

The chapters contained little but contempt for his abusive father, for his spoiled sister, and for his weak mother. These were his descriptors; there were no scenes to clarify what he meant by these adjectives. There were no scenes, period. Indeed, ‘periods’ were infrequent, and paragraphs non existent. Chapter One read as an interminable, ghastly sentence. Chapters Two and Three were more of the same.

I tried to explain to him the importance of some action, even in an autobiography. I loaned him some books about grammar, scenes, and how to engage with readers. He seemed baffled.

“Are you saying it’s no good?” he said.

“I’m saying it’s a first draft. It will get better if you keep working on it.” He stared at me, his face blank. “It takes time to produce the sort of work that people will want to read,” I said.

He still didn’t get it.

At that point, and to my unutterable relief, he decided I could do nothing for him and he vanished into the haze that consumes all talentless hacks.

Despite everything, I still think of Sam as one of my failures. I often ask myself what I could have done differently, but I’m as confused as ever. In my wiser moments, I realise that I wasn’t the problem. It was Sam and his refusal to budge from his indoctrination. From his failings, I offer these insights:

If you approach a writer and say you want to write, don’t waste their time. Listen to what they tell you and try to take their advice.

Being a writer isn’t easy. It involves hard work and preparation. What sort of preparation? Learning the tools of the trade: grammar, spelling, the meaning of words and the subtle differences between synonyms. For instance, when to use child and when kid is better. Or whether miniscule or tiny fit the story and characters better. You don’t have to memorise a lexicon to grasp these differences, just read plenty of fiction. Think about what you’re reading; what works and what doesn’t. See the words the author uses and ask yourself if another one might have worked better. Look at how sentences are constructed, and what makes a paragraph.

In other words, do your homework.

Take constructive criticism. If you disagree with it, ask questions. If you’re still in doubt, get a second opinion, but be open to the possibility that you are wrong.

Learn from your mistakes. We all make them, and there’s no shame in it. Just pay attention and do better the next time. The biggest mistake is assuming you know better than everyone else, especially when they are very experienced and you are just a novice.

Most important of all is to develop your imagination. Read fantasy, science fiction, and books that challenge your sense of reality. Read all kinds of books, short stories, articles, essays and plays. The more widely read you are, the stronger your imagination will become.

Play with children. Watch how they engage with model trains, dolls, and other toys. Kids think nothing of a train travelling through the sky. Watch and learn.

Make up stories about people you see on the train or in the supermarket. Write down the really good ones: you may be able to insert them into a story.

Rewrite (mentally) plots of famous movies. Re-work endings. Create sequels. Imaging: Huckleberry Finn in middle age; Scarlet O’Hara married to Ashley Wilkes; Hawkeye Pierce at a medical convention twenty years after the Korean War ended. Perhaps he meets an old M*A*S*H* friend. What was that reunion like? Even great novels leave stories untold. Find them and tell them.

Writing is hard work, but imagination isn’t. Take yours out for a spin. You never know where you may end up.

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The Writing Process: Passion

I just watched an interview with tennis champion Martina Navratilova. She was asked what makes a person great. She replied, “Passion.”

She’s right. Without passion, there is no point in doing anything. I’m not talking about those daily chores that are essential to keep body and soul together, like working, grocery shopping, #cooking, cleaning. No, they aren’t fun, but we endure them because we quite like being alive. At least, it seems better than the alternative.

But passion for the things we yearn to do as opposed to the essential business of living, that’s the chili pepper of life. No one makes us write, play music or tennis, or paint. Those are the things we choose to do — or, you could argue, they choose us. We cannot imagine our lives without them.

Many years ago I decided to stop writing. I couldn’t fit it in to being a new mother, working full time, and having any number of other demands on my time. But like a missing chapter in a novel, its absence grated on me. I stuck it for a few months, then I caved. The need to write was too strong, and while I have gone through troughs of enthusiasm on occasion, the passion never really expires.

How, then, do you maintain the passion for something like writing or any other practice? Here are some things that work for me:

Start by writing down what you want to accomplish and why. When your enthusiasm lags over the following months (or years), you can remind yourself of what inspired you in the first place.

Break the big project down into manageable parts. There’s no point in getting overwhelmed by trying to do too much at once.

Reward achievements. A chapter finished is worth a new book or a movie, don’t you think?

Use positive quotes to motivate yourself. Google ‘motivational quotes for writers’, or look them up on Pinterest. Many writers websites have them, too. Find a handful that resonate with you and repeat them to yourself as often as necessary. Make them into art and hang them over your desk, or get a mug with your favourite line on it. Make them part of who you are.

Take regular breaks. No, the break shouldn’t be longer than the work period, but a five minute intermission in a 30-minute writing session is good. Also, a day off here and there is good for your health as well as your work.

Continue to learn about the art of writing. Listen to podcasts, read books, go to lectures.

Read books you love. Nothing is more inspiring than excellence.

Expand your friend and acquaintance groups with people who share your passion.

Explore your passion with a journal. Identify the things that delight you and the things that you find troublesome.

There will almost certainly be times when the passion runs dry. If you are in the middle of a personal crisis, that’s understandable. But think of lost passion as a symptom, not a cause, and resolve that cause however you can. If you’re dealing with serious life-changing issues, then they need to be your focus. Sometimes, though, clinging to the thing that makes your heart beat faster is the psychological life-preserver that will carry you through any number of disasters.

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The Writing Process: Commitment

I can’t think of any artist who could succeed with any sort of on-again off-again approach. Whether you paint, play an instrument, or if you want to run in a marathon, you have to be committed. Otherwise, your chances of success are infinitesimal. It comes down to this:

How badly do you want it?

I’m not talking about fame and riches. I’m talking about the work. I’m talking about producing a book (or painting or any other work of art) and knowing it’s good. If it’s weight-loss you’re after, it means reaching your goal weight and keeping it there. It’s about finishing a marathon, even if you come last.

These aren’t platitudes, they are realities. They reflect what might be the most important aspect of commitment: setting realistic goals. I’m not saying you shouldn’t strive to be the best you can, but that setting impossible standards is a sure-fire guarantee of failure.

Let’s examine that more closely. There is a difference between wanting to be the best you can be, and wanting to beat others. The first is a realistic goal, the second is not. Why? Because you can only control your own skills and behaviours, not those of other people. You can decide that you will write a book you can be proud of, just as you can decide you want to finish a race within a certain time. But you can’t force editors to publish your work, and you can’t force the public to adore your stories. In the same way, you can’t determine who in the race might be faster or slower than you. You control your own actions, no one else’s.

Therefore, the first rule is to set realistic goals, both short and long. For instance, your short term goals might be to produce X number of pages or Y number of words per day or per week. They don’t have to be good words or pages. They don’t have to make Hemingway weep with envy. You just have to get those words down. Make your objectives manageable. If you try to write an impossible number of pages a day, you are setting yourself up for disappointment. Make your goals a stretch, but achievable.

Long term goals might involve completing a project, or submitting X number of stories per week to different journals. They might be reaching your ideal dress size, or running 5k. It’s like the old joke about how do you eat an elephant — one bite at a time.

If you fail — and you may sometimes fail — don’t give up. Just try again even harder. This brings us to the second rule of commitment, be kind to yourself. If you are unwell and unable to reach your goals, then take your medicine, dispose of your icky tissues, and look after yourself. It’s okay. We understand. But when you’re feeling better, get back to work. A lot of things can interfere with your progress. Family issues, work problems, computers throwing a hissy fit. You deal with them and you continue.

Another thing that helps you to remain committed to your goal is to make the results as tangible as possible. A lot of people advocate positive visualisation. This involves imagining yourself holding your published novel, or crossing the finish line, or wearing that dress that’s currently three sizes too small for you.

I take it a little further. I see myself writing ‘THE END’ at the, uh, end of my finished novel. You could get a friend to photoshop a picture of you crossing a finish line, or looking svelte, depending on whatever your goal may be. Put that image over your desk, or on your gym bag, or somewhere that you will see and be motivated by.

Tell a friend. Let them know what you’re trying to do and encourage them to ask you for periodic updates. It will give you a sense of accountability for your efforts. You can also join a writers group or another type of support group. There’s nothing like to power of peers to keep you going.

Finally, reward yourself for reaching small goals. You finished a chapter? Buy a nice new pen (for signing autographs, of course). You reached a new milestone, treat yourself to a new plant, or a pair of gloves. When I was in university, I treated myself to something leather every time I earned a First. A leather jacket, a watch with a leather strap, a leather-bound notebook. I still have all of them, and they still make me smile.

Find something to make you smile. You’ve earned it.

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The Writing Process: Objectivity

Every writer I’ve ever met, including myself, seems to be a little schizophrenic. In the same moment we love our work and the way we see our stories unfold, but at the same time we are disgusted that our work isn’t better. If you weren’t confused before you started writing, you’d soon get that way.

Learning to be objective about our work is important, but incredibly difficult to do. If you love every word you write, think all your characters are amazing, and that your plot line is breathtakingly unique and surprising, well, first, you’re wrong, and second, you’ll never improve if you think your work is already perfect.

Another thing to be careful about is rushing to judgement. Reading what you have just written five minutes ago is seldom helpful. Yes, you may notice some typos or obvious mistakes like calling your character by the wrong name, but the essence of the piece will be exactly as you expect it to be. Therefore, the first rule of being objective about your work is…

Don’t be in a hurry

When you have completed a chapter or a scene, it’s human nature to want to re-read it at once and move on. Yes, as I said, you may find some minor errors, but a lot of the stylistic problems and clumsiness that plagues all first drafts will probably escape your critical eye. That’s why most writers leave a minimum of six weeks before they read what they have written. Some will wait three months. The intent is to let the story go ‘cold’. Set it aside, forget about it, and come back to it after several weeks have passed. Only then will you see more clearly how well your story stands up. You may be pleasantly surprised — or not — but at least you’ll have a clearer idea of how your work is going.

Ask yourself some questions

Select a random page of roughly 1000 words and see how many adjectives and adverbs it contains. There is no perfect number, but if you are running well into double-digits, then you need to evaluate how many you really need.

How many passive sentences are there? MS Word can analyze this for you. Again, a couple of such sentences may work — more if they are part of the pattern of speech of one of the characters — but ideally you need to use them as little as possible.

What do your sentence lengths look like? Ideally, they should vary throughout the page. If they seem fairly uniform, for instance: “I went to the shop. I bought some bread. I made toast. I called my mother…” well, you get the drift, they will make you cringe, and make your reader stop reading. Sentences need to be dynamic. Change the rhythm, break up the way they flow, and, while you’re at it, change the way the sentences look on the page. You don’t want hard blocks of text that all look identical. Occasionally, drop a short sentence on its own into a paragraph, so it will draw the eye.

Like this.

Are you showing us what is happening, or just telling? That’s not to say that there is no place for some telling, but don’t overdo it. Keep your exposition to a minimum.

Have you repeated the same word too many times in the same block of writing? If your character always walks quickly, then you may want to turn ‘walk’ into a more urgent verb. Hurried, or rushed, for instance.

Does the piece of writing accomplish what you intended? Does it make the heroine more complex, for instance? Does the hero come across as a bit wet? Are any characters redundant?

Be honest in your appraisal and ruthless in your editing. But… hold on to your first draft. When you have finished your novel or short story, you may find some parts of it that work well, albeit in another part of the work, or even in another story altogether.

Get a second opinion

Yes, time to extol the virtues of the Beta reader again. Having someone with a good understanding of literature, a critical eye, and impeccable honesty is worth their weight in gold. Entrust them with your work. Take their opinion seriously, and listen carefully to what they tell you. You may not agree with all of it, but don’t dismiss them out of hand. Even if you don’t make all the changes they suggest, you may find as you go on that those recommendations are more sound than you originally thought.

Take good care of your Betas. A thank you note, a steak dinner, or a nice bottle of wine, will always be appreciated. After all, with their help, you’ll become the writer you always wanted to be.

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The Writing Process: Focus

A certain alchemy happens when writers sit down to write. I don’t pretend to understand it. I’m just grateful that it happens.

It doesn’t start immediately. You have to have a thought about what you’re going to write. It doesn’t necessarily mean the entire story, perhaps it’s just one scene. You have an idea how it’s going to go but nothing specific. Then you start writing and something wonderous occurs. When your fingers stop clicking, you read back at those words and not only have you captured every detail you’d hoped, but you have added tension, a subplot, or a level of intensity to the character that you never even imagined.

How does this magic happen? I have no idea. Something to do with neurons and the subconscious, I suppose; at least, that’s what psychologists would say. I’m not a psychologist, I’m a writer, and so I know better than to put the process under a microscope. It’s enough for me to know that it happens, and that it’s largely beyond my control.

Despite that acknowledgement, I do know the elements that can help me access the zone.

It begins and ends with focus. If you’re distracted by watching the clock, by listening to what your children are up do, or by daydreaming about the big cheques that may lie in your future, you’re not very likely to succeed. You need to focus exclusively on the work. Here are some things that might help.

Manage your environment

Set the temperature so it’s comfortable. Make sure your desk and chair feel good, and that your lighting is just right. Minimise distractions. That means turn off the electronics: no X or social media, no phones, no TV. Get comfortable. You can use noise-cancelling headphones too. “Do not disturb” signs on the door may also help, depending on the rest of the household.

Select your time

Of course, your options here may be limited, but if possible try to work at a time when your home is quiet, and when you are less likely to be interrupted. A lot of writers swear by the first thing in the morning The idea is if you work when you first wake up, your subconscious is most easily accessed. I must confess, I tried this for a while, but I didn’t find it particularly helpful. I do better when I’m awake and relaxed. Still, you might be more successful than I have been.

Visualise your scene

Visualisation can be very helpful to writers. Watch the scene unfold as if you were watching a film. If you’re more an audio than a visual person, imagine someone is reading the story to you. I tend to do my visualisation at night. I let the scene play out in my head. Oftentimes, I waken with a clearer image of how the scene should play out. Letting my subconscious work while I sleep can stimulate all sorts of ideas.

Have a plan

It doesn’t have to be in-depth. You should know what characters the scene involves and what it needs to do, at least in general terms. It can help to have a general idea of how long the scene should be, whether you’re aiming for a paragraph or several pages. Try to keep your plan fairly loose so there is space for the magic to happen.

Set the scene then let it go

Just write. Don’t keep reading your previous sentences to see if they look magical yet. That isn’t focus, and it will prevent anything but the most prosaic work from happening. Just do the work.

Don’t be disappointed if it takes time to see the results you want. It will happen when you least expect it. In fact, that’s almost certain, because, like the arrival of Santa Claus, it only happens when you aren’t watching for it. Put the work first and make that your focus. Magic works on its own timetable.

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Consistency Matters for Writers

Last week I talked about starting a book series. One of the biggest difficulties writers face when they decide to write subsequent books in a series is consistency. Of course, that’s as true of writing a stand-alone book, as much as it is a series. Few things pull a reader out of a story as much as the author changing basic details they have already established. If the readers have been imagining a tall, blue-eyed hero through most of the story, based on your early description, and on page 199 you describe him as average height and brown-eyed, they’re going to be upset. And you should be upset too. There are plenty of things that can spoil a book. Why wouldn’t you want to fix them, to make your book the very best it can be?

Here are some of the consistency traps you need to be aware of:

Names

If your character is Marie on page one, she shouldn’t become Maria on page 90, unless you make it clear it’s one character’s nickname for her. Likewise, Mr Fairclough shouldn’t become Mr Fairchild as the story evolves. If the house is called Rosebud Cottage, it can’t turn into Rose House. Most writers I know toss aside such concerns. “I know my characters,” they say. “Only rookies forget important details like that.”

Oh really?

It’s human nature to forget things. Writing a book takes a long time, even years in some cases. You’d be amazed at how many mistakes even successful writers can make. For instance, I recently read a book in which the hero is shot. He returns fire and hits one of the two assailants. About three chapters later, we meet the assailants, and neither one has been injured. OK, maybe our hero was in error when he thought he had hit one of them, but that’s not what the book says. And, yes, it made me mad.

Details

So how have you described your hero? If he’s six foot tall with black hair and blue eyes that’s who he must remain, unless he has some reason to change his appearance. Even then, he can appear with grey hair and brown eyes, but his height can’t change. (I’ll allow the caveat for Sherlock Holmes who did sometimes manage to look shorter — see The Empty House — but only with effort.)

Dates need to be watched carefully because these, too, are easily forgotten. Be particularly careful of changing from US to UK date and vice versa. Also, remember that there are many spelling differences between the two countries, as well. Just remember, the smaller the detail, the greater the likelihood that you will forget it.

Places

It can be strangely easy to forget where your story is set, or to get mixed up about the geography. For instance, you set your tale in Columbus, Ohio and then mention it being on the border of Kentucky (that’s Cincinnati), or that it’s on the Great Lakes (Nope. That’s Cleveland.) You describe the place where your character lives as mountainous, but a cursory view of the terrain shows it’s completely flat. It’s not unusual for writers to mix up places with similar or identical names. For instance, in England there are two St. Ives, one in Cornwall and the other in Cambridge. It’s even more confusing in the US where many states use the same names for cities. How many Washingtons are there?*

Easy Fixes

All is not lost though. There are some simple ways of preventing / correcting these errors.

Have a clear image of the people and places in your story. One of my tricks is to find photographs of people who physically fit the appearance of the character. Generic photos of handsome men, old women, or girl-next-door types are easily culled from magazines or the internet. Save the images in a folder and refer to them as you need. Pinterest is good for storing pictures, but it no longer lets you attach notes to them, which is a problem. You might consider using MS One Note instead. Or print / cut out the pictures and post them on a bulletin board.

Keep an ongoing list. I have several. One is for characters. This includes their full names, their role in the story, appearance, peculiarities, and any other pertinent information. I also keep a list of the places where the various scenes occur. In addition to details about them, I sometimes use photographs here too. For some reason, many of us find images far more memorable than words.

If you have a sneaking feeling you have changed a character’s name during the story, do a MS Word search for the various spellings in the document. You can then do a ‘replace all’ to change the wrong ones to the right. If only life’s errors could be so easily rectified!

Another way to catch mistakes is to find a Beta reader you trust. If they are attentive, they will find the little boo-boos you missed.

Do you have any tips that you use to keep your writing on track? Feel free to share with us in the comments. Thanks for reading.

*There are 88 places in the US called Washington.

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