Category: writing process

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So, where next?

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maxmann via pixabay

Okay, so it’s properly 2017 now. The tree and cards are gone, we’ve all gone back to work or school. It’s traditionally the time to look forward, make plans, set intentions and make resolutions for this New Year that we won’t keep.

No, this is the year of setting ourselves up for success rather than failure. Where last time I talked about footprints in the snow, this week is more about deciding where those steps are leading. What is the distant goal or mountain peak on which you hope to plant your flag? Without some end point, your journey is literally aimless.

However, your goal is not my goal. And that’s okay.

One writer might want to be a New York Times bestselling author. The next might recoil from that, but simply want to hold their book in their hands. Another writes only for their own enjoyment, to know themselves better or work through an issue in their history. And yet others want to make enough money from their writing to support themselves. Very different goals, needing very different tools and routes to success. Though it should be said that most writers want to be read by others.

A story comes alive in the telling.

That includes the stories we tell ourselves, that sabotage and undermine our conscious efforts to reach the goal. They usually boil down to fear, that protean trickster hiding behind a thousand faces.

I’m too______________
My stories are too _____________
The market is too  ____________

But this is fear talking, and that leads to fantasies that have no basis in fact. Writers succeed when they refuse to listen to this internal critic, that claims to protect you, even as it slams the door against the possibility of reaching your goal.

Fear keeps you home, anxiously listening for noises and wolves at the door, when you should be packing your bag and walking boots and getting out there. Remembering a big stick and wolf repellent of course, because a great antidote to fear is anticipating challenges and making a plan to overcome them. Success is not bestowed on a lucky few without effort. Success comes to those who stumble, fall, take a hit, and get up again ready to fight on.
Success comes to those who keep going.

What’s your goal?

 

compass-dream-worlds_mysticsartdesign
Mysticsartdesign via pixabay

 

I’m going to talk about writing because that’s my medium, but this visualisation exercise can apply to any creator.

Take a moment now to exhale, and get comfortable. Close your eyes and fly away into the future. Time does not matter here. You’ve achieved your ultimate writing (creative) goal. Breathe easily as you sharpen that picture of yourself and bring it into focus.

Maybe you’re watching the film of your book. You’re sitting in a bookstore, with a line of fans waiting for you to sign your latest book. Or you see your name on a book in Waterstones or Barnes and Noble, and smile to yourself. You get a letter from a fan, telling you how much reading your story helped them.

You’re typing away on a new MacBook in your ideal study, and your days as a wage slave are behind you. Or you are at a party, and when asked what you do you say confidently, “I’m a writer, and this is my latest project.”

Be specific. What project? Is it your current WIP or another book? How many people surround you? What are you wearing, what can you smell, touch, hear and see? Is the bubbly drink in your glass Prosecco or beer or soda water? Put in every vivid detail, and set no limits. Imagine it all, because this is where you are going. It’s Shangri-La, it’s the promised land, it’s your perfect idyll.

And it will only exist if you first create it in your mind’s eye.

We are artists and creators. We are the dreamers of dreams, and we deserve to dream for ourselves first. This picture is one to fix in your mind and come back to when things get hard, as they will. To fix it, or anchor it in your brain, it must be associated with a physical sensation. Pinch your left thumb and middle finger together firmly, while the dream plays in your mind’s eye like a bright, colourful movie.

You might be sitting alone on the side of a rough road, bleeding from being knocked down. But the memory of your happy future self is like a photo in your wallet. You can pull it out and remind yourself just why you’re out here, trudging this long and difficult path, risking pain and rejection and loss of faith. The anchor helps you recall it. Pinch your left thumb and middle finger together.

Breathe; time loops on itself, as you relive the memory of your future here in the present. The magic of creation is bringing into reality that which existed only in your own internal world. Dream for yourself, let your creativity flow in the service of a bigger goal, and it will give you the strength to get up and go on again. This is your true North, where your compass points.

Next time I will consider how to plan the route, but remember this.

The prize must be worth the journey. So dream your best dream.

 

blog, writing process

Footprints in the snow

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pexels

As each year draws to a close, we naturally think about taking stock. What did we do, what did we get, what are we still hoping for, good or bad. It’s been a hell of a year, on many levels. Sometimes the big picture is overwhelming, and we can only make sense of small things. Like tracking our own progress, footprints in the snow.

I recently read a Medium post by Dajana Bergmark, called Blueprint for a productive 2017 . I liked a lot in the post, especially the brain dump and the idea of prioritising your effort, because effort and time are finite resources. I never have enough, and I’m sure you’re the same. But the further I read, the less attractive it became, for me. I’m not good with organisers and ticking boxes, and forcing myself results only in abandoning the whole idea. I don’t want to throw the baby out with the bathwater.

Any system has to be customised to suit you. Take what you can use and leave the rest.

I’m a whole picture person who baulks at prescribed step-by-step plans in minute detail. Details matter, but at different levels for everyone. So, I look for a broad brush solution I can live with, then drill down only as far as I will actually implement. I wrote recently about making progress with writing, and seeing that at the level of a whole piece.  This is about a closer look at how things are moving forward.

I mentioned before that I took up watercolour painting as a complete beginner. I devised a simple list which allowed me to track progress without it being a chore.

Attend a beginners’ class (weekly for 10 weeks)
Complete at least one painting every week – from the class or a book
Date each painting and write 2-3 comments about technique on the back
File paintings consecutively in a portfolio

Just dating each painting proved to be an incredibly powerful tool. It allowed me to see my progress over time, which was very motivating. Committing to one painting a week, thinking about the techniques and writing a comment helped me move fast, even when the classes were over.

I was able to join an improvers’ class after a few months. Granted, many of the artists there were much more experienced, but that also spurred me to learn more and raise my game. But without my portfolio behind me, I would never have had the courage to consider that class.

But what if I don’t want to paint/write, or don’t know what to paint/write?

Painter’s block, creative block, writer’s block all yield to action. What works for me is to step away from the emotion, and simply get to work. That might mean opening a random page in a magazine and painting whatever is there. It might mean going to a writing prompt website, picking one, and writing. It might mean creating something else; a poem, a meal, a garden, an ordered and tidy room.

If I want to improve, that means practising my art, just as an athlete practises before the big game or competition. I can’t afford to do only what I want, especially when time is precious.

The water does not flow until the faucet is turned on.
Louis L’Amour

In other words, inspiration comes after initiation. Get warmed up, then get going.

Tracking my journey as a writer

This is very important, yet it must be simple. For writing, my 2016 list looked like this:

Attend a writing group regularly and produce work for it
Submit to at least 10 competitions
Revise my novel to make it ready for submission
Read 2-3 craft books
Write a weekly blog post
NaNoWriMo

Using a standard calendar that comes with Excel, I have noted what I wrote and when. For my blog, WordPress has analytics built-in. It is surprising how motivating it is to see a run of completed boxes. I guess the whole idea of star charts is not just for kids after all. I can see which months were better for writing than others. And I can course correct when necessary, which is why NaNo dropped off the list.

Yes, I achieved those goals. Feels good, too!

Each written piece is tagged and dated, and sometime soon I will compare the first and last, the group pieces with my other work, and so on. Now it’s time to think about next year’s goals, building on this year’s successes and challenges. I might build another layer of detail into my tracking, or commit to a number of words per week. I already know that writing every day is impossible with my current commitments, (because I tried it, and failed) so a weekly target is more realistic.

That which is measured, improves. That which is measured and reported, improves exponentially.
Pearson’s law

As long as we don’t spend all our time reporting instead of producing work, this could be useful. Making a beautiful map is not a substitute for making the journey.

My Very Easy Tracking Plan™ boils down to this:

Find a system that you can commit to over a long period.
Track your work, no matter how simply.
Finish your stuff.
Enjoy your achievements.*

In the end, it is producing the work and growing as a creative that matters. Not blog views, competition wins, external validation of some sort. That may come, and of course we hope it will. But the work comes first. Always.

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*We all deserve a gold star. Congratulations on doing the thing, whatever that was.

blog, Pat Aitcheson writes, writing process

What’s your ideal writing space?

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kreuzfeld via pixabay

Medium, the writing platform, recently hosted a competition. The prompt was to describe your ideal writing environment. If you look at Instagram or Pinterest, you can see endless pictures of beautifully arranged workspaces. The wood desk just so, with a new notebook, fresh wildflowers in a jam jar, an antique typewriter or a shiny new Macbook, perhaps some reading glasses and a cup of expensive coffee. You know the kind of thing. In a recent post on Medium, Nicole Bianchi shows us where some famous writers did their work, and adds inspiration on what a writing space should include.

I like to see gorgeous visuals, but my reality is far removed from that.

As I write this, my laptop is set up on the dining room table. Books are piled on the sideboard because the bookcase is crammed with more books, CDs and who knows what else. A vase of orange roses provides a colourful focus, and outside promises an orange/pink sky painted by the setting winter sun.

Sounds lovely, and it is. It’s also untrue.

There’s much more to see, but you would have to tune out the piles of papers and magazines, shoes that should be elsewhere, odd items of clothing and assorted detritus. (And no, I don’t always have roses.) It would require serious wrangling to get a perfectly curated image, which I could then share in the hope of convincing you that not only my desk, but my entire life is beautifully, artfully arranged. An image that whispers,  click the heart and make me feel loved.

I wrote before about wrestling beauty from a cluttered reality by focussing on what matters. Still, there is no doubt that I find ordered spaces tranquil and calm, and surely that releases energy to spend on creating things? Well, yes, and no. If I have to spend an hour clearing up before I start work, it will never get done. My brain will be hijacked by a hundred thoughts, resentments and distractions, and why can’t he hang it up? I’ve asked him a thousand times, so sick of being taken for granted…

And just like that, writing vanishes in a cloud of righteous procrastination.

The whole picture is one truth, and the edited highlights are another version of the truth. Maybe my untidy room is the first draft of the perfect writer’s haven. Here’s another truth.

My ideal place to write isn’t a tangible reality. Although, a corner of the spare bedroom might one day become that haven. First I’d have to tidy stuff, move other stuff, buy a desk… Maybe next year, when I can summon enough energy to go to IKEA. And then assemble the desk.

Instead, I think of my ideal writing space as a state of mind.

My mind needs to settle, cast off the mundane, edit out the noise. Like a deep pool, it requires stillness. Only then can I see past the surface, clear to the bottom. Only then can my characters reveal themselves and come to life, beckoning me on so that I can follow, hoping my fingers can capture their adventures.

That state of mind might come with silence, or with music. I use 8tracks as a source of instrumental music, because I find words distracting. There are lots of playlists for study and writing. I’ve never written in a coffeeshop; maybe that’s a challenge for next year. But if you like the sounds of background activity, then coffitivity offers different options for human white noise. What’s your ideal writing space?

I can’t wait for conditions to be perfect. The only time is now. My ideal place to write is away from the daily grind, just far enough to lose sight of laundry and unread books and washing up and tonight’s dinner.

Let me dive into imagination, and see what treasures are waiting there.

 

 

blog, Pat Aitcheson writes, writing process

How to edit your writing, part 4

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unsplash via pixabay

And on with part 4 of editing your writing.

part 3 here
part 2 here 
part 1 here

All the following are suggestions. You are the author, you are in charge of your words. Feel free to disagree, just make your choices conscious ones.

This time, a few thoughts on beginnings, middles, and ends.

Where do I begin?

Screenwriters are told to get in as late as possible. This means starting close to the action, but not without some context. Sure, we want to see some of the protagonist’s ordinary life. We don’t want a blow by blow account of how she gets up, showers, has breakfast, and goes to work. Writers are also advised to begin ‘in media res’ or in the middle of things. Action is a great opener, but being dropped in the middle of a battle when we don’t know who is fighting or why, is a mistake. We don’t care about the characters yet.

Prologues are sometimes used as a way to get round this problem of where to start. A little explanation, and then we can drop into the fight in chapter one. While prologues can be done well, the usual advice is to avoid them. Try writing the prologue, then seeing if you can cut it later, sprinkling the information through the story.

The first chapter is your chance to sell the reader on investing their time in your story. Literary agents have a number of pet peeves. Some are listed here on Writer Unboxed, which is useful reading. But think of yourself as a reader. Don’t you feel cheated by any of the following?

  • ‘it was all a dream’ then the character wakes up
  • nothing is really happening, plot is stalling
  • description and exposition rather than action
  • lots of characters introduced, with no context
  • character and place names that are (a) too similar or (b) unpronounceable

Make the first chapter count. Show the reader enough to make them curious, to wonder what happened next. That’s the goal of storytelling. Hook the reader with a flavour of your story, your Big Idea, and get them to turn the page.

Successful novelists may not follow these rules, but remember this. Every trad published author wrote a first novel, that had to interest an agent enough to read on. Every self published author has to get the public to read on. When you’re mega-successful, then you can relax. Until then, polish your opening, get feedback, and make it shine.

The soggy middle

Many writers talk about hitting a wall, five chapters in, 30,000 words in, wherever. The initial shine has worn off and the story is far from its end. Some jump ship at this point and chase the next shiny idea. I wrote about why it is vital to keep going and finish your stuff. Having a strong outline certainly helps, but plotters are not immune from an attack of the blahs.

I don’t like the term writer’s block. I think there are times when writing is easier, and times when we experience resistance. When we hit resistance, it’s time to use some different techniques. They might also help with NaNoWriMo, which is currently ongoing. (I’m not participating this year, but that is for a different post.)

Remember that it’s not necessary to write chronologically. For some writers, writing as a jigsaw puzzle works better, but in that case a clear idea of the story structure is needed – just like the picture on the puzzle box.

What to do when the story comes to a grinding halt? Some things that have worked for me, and some I haven’t tried yet, are listed below. I didn’t invent these.

  • Start writing that scene you’re avoiding. Promise yourself a little treat at 500 words.
  • Write all the backstory you have on your characters, starting with the protagonist.
  • Interview a secondary character about the protagonist.
  • Interview the antagonist. What do they think of the protagonist?
  • Write the end and work your way back.
  • Write a scene you are looking forward to, then write towards it.
  • Pantsers – try outlining, no matter how sparse. Think about the bones of the story.
  • Plotters – try asking the characters where to go next. Let go a little.
  • Write something else – an opinion piece, a poem. Bonus points if it is about a character.
  • Different creation- bake a cake, paint, draw, photograph something.
  • Get moving. Walk, run, garden, clean.
  • Try free-writing, like the morning pages from The Artist’s Way.
  • Use the ‘why?’ technique. Ask yourself why you have got stuck, write down the answer. Then ask ‘why?’ with that answer. Keep asking why, until you reach the heart of the matter. This works for life stuff too. About four or five cycles will usually be enough.
    • Why am I stuck? because I don’t know how to put Mary in the forest
    • why does she need to be there? because she needs to meet a witch
    • why does she need to meet the witch? because she needs a spell of invisibility
    • why does she need the spell? it will allow her to free her sister (the main story thread)
    • why can’t she get the spell from someone else? hmmm… hadn’t thought of that. How about, she has to sell the jewellery her mother left her, and buy the spell from the scary warlock in her village (who I can write as another interesting character). But while sneaking through the forest she is confronted by the witch, who can see her because she taught the original spell to the warlock, so they could meet in secret when they were lovers?? Now, there’s a bigger story to be told.

That’s one way past the resistance, opening up more possibilities by creating your way through.

sunset-1331088_1280
marcoreyesgt via pixabay

And that’s a wrap

Endings can be simple, or tricky. You want to leave the reader with a good feeling. You want the reader to miss the characters when they turn the last page, and tell others about the story.

Plot twist is one of the most difficult, but memorable endings if you can pull it off. Misdirection is the key, making the wrong answer plausible, and the correct answer understandable. This can be satisfying and prompt re-readings to spot the clues. You will need to examine your story carefully, to make sure that the clues and red herrings are in order. It’s easy to lose track through re-writing.

Avoid deus ex machina endings. Literally meaning ‘god from a machine’, it dates from the days of Greek tragedy. When there were too many problems to untangle at the end of a play, a god would descend from the sky and solve everything with a flick of his hand. The sudden discovery of a weapon, weakness, or other artefact that magically solves things breaks the contract with the reader, which is that you will repay their time with a properly satisfying story.

Circular endings can work, with the story retracing some element that was introduced at the start. It could be the same environment, the hero arrives back home but changed. For example, Frodo returns to the Shire. In The girl with all the gifts, the story opens and closes with Melanie, a classroom and Miss Justineau. The environment and characters, and their relationship, has changed.

Be sure that your ending follows genre conventions. A romance must end with happy ever after, even if it is qualified. Your story question must be answered. It’s best to tie up plot threads, though you might want to leave one open for the next book. Too many hanging questions breaks your reader contract, again. But it’s reasonable to leave some spaces for the reader to fill in, as long as they are not gaping plot holes.

Have someone else read the story. Ask where they got bored, or excited, or puzzled. It can tell you a lot about what is needed to improve the story.

Enjoyable stories leave you with the sense that characters have moved on and changed, even if they are going on to new adventures. And if you’ve done your job well, the reader is invested enough to follow your characters, and your writing, on into the future. That’s what we all want, isn’t it?

Writers want to tell you a story. And then, we hope we’ve earned the chance to tell you another.

blog, Pat Aitcheson writes, writing process

How to edit your writing, part 3

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image: unsplash via pixabay

And on with part 3 of thoughts and tips on self-editing.

All the following are suggestions. You are the author, you are in charge of your words. Feel free to disagree, just make your choices conscious ones.

Filter words

These words stand between the author and the reader, creating distance. If we want to deepen point-of-view, immersing the reader in the character’s mind and thoughts, these words should be cut away. Consider the following.

She started to run away from the man, and saw an alleyway coming up ahead. She ran into the alley, feeling her heart racing in her chest. She heard his footsteps behind her. She felt as if she could not escape, and deciding to stand her ground this time, she turned to face her attacker.

She ran from her attacker and ducked into an alley. Her heartbeat kept pace with the footsteps racing ever closer. He would find her, it was a dead end, no escape. She took a breath, and turned to face him. This time, she would stand her ground.

The words in italics describe the woman’s sensations and thoughts. The second example is not perfect, but we are much closer to the character and her reactions. It feels more immediate. Emma Darwin describes filtering very clearly in this post on her blog This itch of writing. Well worth a read.

Passive vs active voice

The boy was hit by the ball. (passive)
The ball hit the boy. (active)

Passive voice is disliked by modern writers. (passive)
Modern writers dislike passive voice. (active)

Passive voice uses the construction object-verb-subject. Sometimes it is the right choice, but usually starting with the subject, or active principle, sounds and reads better. As the examples show, active voice also gives a shorter, punchier sentence. Once again, the Hemingway app is your friend. You don’t have to accept all its suggestions, but they are often correct.

Reading aloud is the second way to find what works. Remember, the reader is essentially reading silently in their head. Anything that causes them to stumble, risks pulling them out of the story.

Flashbacks

If you have read craft books, or advice blogs, or lists of what not to do in stories, flashbacks are always mentioned. The truth is, writing rules are guidelines. You can do almost anything, as long as you do it well. That means you must know the rules, before you break them. A character muses, or remembers events from the past that have a direct bearing on the present. This is backstory, and it needs careful handling.The main thing is to take the reader with you. They must be certain of where and when the events took place. You can start with past perfect tense.

“She had not thought about that day in years.”

Then switch to simple past tense to describe the events.

“He looked so handsome in his tuxedo that night, and she couldn’t believe she was going to the prom as his date.”

At the end, signal that this past time is over.

“The telephone rang, pulling her from her daydream. She tore the photo in tiny pieces and dropped them in the bin, consigning them to the past where they belonged.”

A flashback should not be an information dump. Huge chunks of backstory are indigestible and stop the narrative flow. Find a way to work it into dialogue or action. Don’t let characters spend too much time introspecting either. It’s boring and rarely advances the action.

When two characters discuss the past they must avoid telling what the other should already know. But it’s a great opportunity to slip information (or misinformation) into the story, and show characters in action. Once again Emma Darwin goes into detail here.

Next time: beginnings, middles, and ends. See you there.

blog, writing process

How to edit your writing, part 2

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jarmoluk via pixabay

And on with part 2 of thoughts and tips on self-editing.

All the following are suggestions. You are the author, you are in charge of your words. Feel free to disagree, just make your choices conscious ones.

Crutch words

These words support our speech, giving us time to think. Actually, um, honestly, so, are all examples. You might find them when you write natural sounding dialogue. Good dialogue is not the same as natural speech. It’s natural speech, polished.

When we write, crutch words are those we use repeatedly, and often without being aware of them. I discovered that I use ‘but’ way too often, to start sentences and join clauses together. You can find them using a word frequency counter. Next, you need to search and destroy. Print the list, and highlight them individually in your document using the Find/Search function. Now you can consider each one separately, and decide if it stays or goes. Some more tips, such as using a word cloud generator, can be found in this post by Alyssa Hollingsworth.

If you cut out a proportion of and, that, when, but, and similar words, it will tighten your prose. It immediately becomes clearer.

Adverbs: friend or foe?

I read that when asked what she would change about the Harry Potter books, JK Rowling said she would remove all the adverbs. The first book in particular contains lots of adverbs that tell rather than showing. I am a huge JKR fan, and it’s interesting to see how her writing (and editing) evolved over the series.

It is an article of faith that adverbs should be killed off, but like all absolutes this is too extreme. Think of them as seasoning, to be added judiciously lest they overpower the whole. Often in rewriting, there is a better choice to be made.
‘Walked quickly’ can become strode, hurried, ran, or another word that conveys the exact meaning. When you can’t quite remember the word you want and the thesaurus isn’t helping, try this site for the word that’s on the tip of your tongue. Maybe English isn’t your first language, or it is but you’ve temporarily lost your words. This site is brilliant for those times.

Was/-ing

This is a favourite construction of mine, and maybe yours too. Perhaps this is because we naturally retell events this way, but good prose is more than natural dialogue.

While you need not banish was/-ing totally, minimising its use improves your prose. Consider the following examples – featuring adverbs (and a cliché for good measure).

She was walking slowly along the road, when suddenly he came into view.
She walked slowly along the road, and then saw him appear from nowhere.
She shuffled along, eyes scanning the road ahead. There was no time to hide when he stepped into her path.

Most times, the simple past tense, with or without a better choice of verb, will improve the text. If you overwrite and need to cut words, this is one good way to do it without losing the sense of your text. If you underwrite, better verb choice and more description might be needed. Search for ‘was’ and look critically at every instance.

Clichés

Overused phrases only hurt our brilliant prose. Be creative and find a new way to say it. This site allows you to paste your text and find any cliches that slipped in. At the end of the day, you know it makes sense.

Next time: filter words, passive voice, flashbacks. See you there.

 

blog, Pat Aitcheson writes, writing process

How to edit your writing, part 1

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senlay via pixabay

 

All writing is rewriting, and self-editing is integral to that process.

There are books available, and really good editors as well. I learned a lot from Morgen Bailey when she edited my novel, and I wanted to share some tips I picked up over the last year or two. I hope they will help you to edit your own work, because it’s an essential skill for every writer. I will split this into several posts with a few points in each, in no particular order.

Oh but I don’t need to edit, the publisher will do that for me

Well maybe, but if your work is littered with errors and things that need fixing, you’re not creating that first impression of a writer who knows what they’re doing. You may never have the chance to show what a great story you wrote. If you write short stories, or blog posts, or anything really, you are your own editor.

All the following are suggestions. You are the author, you are in charge of your words. Feel free to disagree, just make your choices conscious ones.

Read your work aloud

This is a great way to catch awkward dialogue, choppy prose and repeated words. More of them later. If you have a Mac, you already have text to speech. Go to System Preferences, open dictation&speech, and you can specify how your text is read. Play around with gender/speed/accent, choose the keyboard shortcut, and enjoy hearing your words. It is not as mechanical as you might think. While not perfect, how many of us can get another person to read our words?

If you read it aloud, and you trip over the words, the reader is doing the same in their head. Take notes. Rewrite till it flows.

Don’t trust the spellchecker

Homonyms can trip you up. These are words which sound the same but have different meanings, like hear/here, site/sight, red/read, write/right. Spellcheck won’t highlight them. If you are unsure about a spelling or meaning, you don’t know. Look it up.

Watch sentence length

In my first drafts particularly, I am inclined to write long, rambling sentences that go on and on, one action after another, explaining the events as I see them in a way that makes perfect sense to me because I’m writing it and I just need to get it all down before I lose my thread…

See what I mean?

Sometimes you want to use a longer sentence, and I certainly don’t mean that every sentence should be short. It can lead to choppiness. Be aware of the effect you want to create. Short sentences are punchy, great for blog posts, or action scenes. Longer sentences used skilfully create flow, slow things down, and build towards a climax.

“This sentence has five words. Here are five more words. Five-word sentences are fine. But several together become monotonous. Listen to what is happening. The writing is getting boring. The sound of it drones. It’s like a stuck record. The ear demands some variety. Now listen. I vary the sentence length, and I create music. Music. The writing sings. It has a pleasant rhythm, a lilt, a harmony. I use short sentences. And I use sentences of medium length.

And sometimes, when I am certain the reader is rested, I will engage him with a sentence of considerable length, a sentence that burns with energy and builds with all the impetus of a crescendo, the roll of the drums, the crash of the cymbals–sounds that say listen to this, it is important.”

Gary Provost

The application Hemingway can be useful. I don’t always agree with it, but it highlights passive voice, long sentences, complex words, adverbs, and so on. It gives a reading grade, and we do well to pitch our words at a level that most of our readers find easy to manage. It’s a good starting point, and there’s a free version.

Next time: crutch words, adverbs, was/-ing, and clichés. See you there.

blog, garden, Pat Aitcheson writes, writing process

A writer in her garden

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“start with a plan”

architecture-1246875_1280
jryanphotog via pixabay

No matter how detailed, or how loose, start with a plan. You cannot reach the destination without a goal and at least a few markers set along the way.

“bury the treasure well”

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Narcissi February Gold

The plot twist, the clues, Chekhov’s gun. They must be planted ahead of time, before anyone realises, while they are thinking of something else.

You of course, are following the plan. You know what is coming.

“right plant, right place”

 

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Hibiscus, Costa Blanca, Spain

You may fall in love with something gorgeous.

If it does not fit, you must either provide the right conditions for it, or put it somewhere else. Remember my space pirate last week? He awaits the right plot.

You may create beautiful prose, so lovely you weep tears of joy when you read it back. You need not kill your darling, this post tells you what I do with mine. Nothing wasted, in a garden as in writing.

 

“subtlety is underrated”

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Hydrangeas

A bold swathe of colour is lovely to see, but hard to pull off in a garden. It can also leave the plot looking a bit bare in other times and places. It works, if well supported by action elsewhere. Whether writing or gardening, a single bravura flowerbed or scene is not enough to sustain interest.

A quiet gradation with one plant leading gently to another can have great impact, as well as ending a long way from the starting point without jarring. Not everyone will appreciate the thought behind it. But some will, and it is satisfying to add another layer of meaning, to challenge your own skills.

“enjoy your harvest”

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Fruits of my labour

My garden’s variety of plants and purposes leads to this. Fruits and vegetables to savour, knowledge for next season, compost made from those that didn’t make it.

My story, long or short, leads to this. Plots, subplots, character arcs, the seeds of a sequel, must all culminate in a satisfying conclusion.

It’s hard work, but let’s not forget why we do it.

When our ideas come to life, it’s glorious.

 

blog, Pat Aitcheson writes, writing process

6 ways that writing is like gardening

pataitcheson22

(and 1 way that it isn’t)

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Temple gardens, Tokyo

 

Whether you are a fiction writer or a gardener, you must tend your plot. The more I write, the more I find parallels between my two loves, writing and gardening.

 

1    Find your plot

When we moved to our house, there was a huge lawn, some mature trees, but no garden at all. Even though we had less than no money, busy jobs, two children under three, and no family to help, I resolved to make a garden. I needed a place to wander around, to dig, to dream.

So naturally, I invested money I didn’t really have to get experts in and draw up a plan. Two plans, in fact. We combined the best of both. Yes, I was laughed at by those who didn’t understand why I then planted four saplings in the middle of the lawn.

I smiled to myself. I knew they were the basis of the secret garden. What secret? The doubters had to wait and see.

Gardens are particular to their position. I could plant anything here, but some will do well and some are definitely not suitable. I can’t grow oranges outside, but there are lots of other fruits that will thrive.

With a story, have some kind of outline and plan. Plant your flag at The End and work towards it, with as much detail as you wish. Plotter? Lots of details. Pantser like me? Vague notions contained within a loose overall feel.

The genre is the location where you will plant your story. Genre has rules about what can be included. You can break the rules, of course. You can add things that are not native to the genre, or mix genres. But it will need more work and clever execution to pull it off.

2    Do the heavy lifting first

It saves time in the end. Oh it’s tiresome, pulling nettles, raking out rocks, making compost bins. But future you will thank present you for doing it. Afterwards it will be much easier to get on with what you really want, which is creating.

If you don’t get that weed out now, it will have sturdy roots that weave through your precious plants. It may even choke them. Remember your ultimate goal, as you dig through heavy clay soil in the rain. Put anything you will need later in a holding bed.

Make sure that your story idea will really fit the location. Some stories are short, some are novels, and some are operatic, requiring a huge space to bloom fully.

Composting in this context, is letting all those little flakes and fragments settle in your subconscious while you get on with something else. Not every idea will find a place, but capture them and have them ready if needed. Notes are your friend, however you prefer to keep them.

Weeding out is only for the big things at this point. You might have a character in mind, but a space pirate does not belong in a light contemporary romance. Probably.

3    Prepare well

Now there is some idea of scope. A clear plot, a plan of some sort. The next step is research. What direction is the prevailing wind? Where are the shady, dry, wet or sunny spots? What plants are your favourites? Which plants will do best in which situation? It’s time to make some choices.

Those choices will shape the overall feel of the garden. Start with the bigger, more structural things. Allow enough space for each to fill out. Small plants can come later, when things are more developed.

If you’re a pantser, know that you might not have everything finalised, and that’s fine. Start with the main characters and the main plot points, and sketch out how they all hand together. Note any gaps.

Read up on 18th century lace production, or space ship propulsion, or whatever your story needs. If you have subplots, make sure they are included. They are your  second layer, benefiting from the first layer and supporting it.

Compost is equivalent to backstory. A fertile bed in which to grow your characters and nourish their roots. But no-one wants to see it, so it has to be worked in subtly.

4   Begin in earnest

Finally, start creating! A garden cannot be created in one go. The seasons take precedence, deciding that you cannot buy this or move that. Big plants like trees better go in first. If they’re wrong, it’s not such a big job to move or remove them.

For example, I planted a flowering cherry. It grew and grew. It had few flowers and so-so autumn colour. Well, since those things were its job, I cut it down after five years and replaced it with Acer griseum, which is much more attractive.

I bought what I could afford, which was not much. I bought small and opted to wait. I haunted bargain corners and market stalls. I had to be creative because money was a huge constraint. The garden started in one corner and moved out from there. It was done in short bursts and not in a logical order.

So, you’re gonna write a story. But where to begin? You could start with chapter one. Or you could start with a major scene that’s itching to get from your brain to the page/screen. Start anywhere, just begin. The outline is there to guide you, so that even if the pieces are out of sync, they all relate to a proper whole.

How does that work? This is an example of mine.

I wrote the start of my novel (planted the cherry tree) out of order (when the time was right). After taking some advice I added more detail (let it grow). It looked better, but it still didn’t do its job of hooking readers (so-so result). I really wanted to keep it, but reluctantly took more advice.

I realised it was backstory (kill your darlings) and used it as such (put it through the woodchipper). I took the useful pieces and slipped them into the story (compost and feed). With a stronger root system, my subplots thrived and my story was more cohesive. I wrote and rewrote a new chapter one that is a hundred times better (the Acer).

Acer griseum - Arboretum Robert Lenoir à Rendeux (Belgique)
Acer griseum, image via wikimedia commons

5    Refine and revise

A garden is never done, but it can reach maturity. At the end of each season I cast my eye over it critically. Seeing what worked, what died, and where the gaps are is fertile material for the fun part; buying more plants. Sometimes I don’t have to kill my plant darlings, for they simply die. That’s okay. It means they were the wrong plant, or in the wrong place. If it’s in the wrong place, maybe I can replant it elsewhere.

Some things get too big, and need cutting back. Others can be divided and produce new plants elsewhere. Impulse buys are part of my semi-planned garden. I started with big permanent things, and fill in with this and that, anything that catches my eye. Others take a measured view, sticking closely to their masterplan.

A story must reach the end, and then needs revision and editing. Pruning away the excess reveals the essential. A small addition may contrast with a larger element and bring it into focus. Darlings must be examined and dealt with ruthlessly, though sometimes they can find another home, as I explained here .

The plotter sees everything unfold as planned. The pantser has room to wander within the boundary, seeing what happens. Both may have to perform radical surgery, if the whole is not more than the sum of the parts. Sometimes, other people can see more clearly what needs to be done, so take advice you trust.

6    Enjoy!

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image: Bellingrath Gardens by tpsdave via pixabay

You worked hard, so remember to enjoy your achievement. When the garden looks good, walk in it, photograph it. Most of all, sit in it and rest. Look at the sky, at the birds, at the leaf colours and flowers. Dream.

Few people manage to finish writing a story, fewer still an entire novel. When you have let it sit for a while, read it again. Better yet, if you have a Mac, use the text to speech and have it read to you. Maybe you’ll hear something that text editing did not catch.

But best of all, you get to experience your story in a different way, one that links us back to stories told around campfires and in caves, since man first learned to speak.

But gardening is different from writing…

Writing lets me forget the world and live in my dreams.

Gardening gets me out of my head, and grounds me in the real world.

Reading stories lets me share somebody’s head for a while and forget the world.

 

blog, Pat Aitcheson writes, writing process

The one thing all true writers do

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image: diego_torres via pixabay

 

Am I a true writer yet?

There’s a ton of advice out there on how to be a better writer. Books, blogs, websites all have a few things to say on the subject. From my seat, I can see seven books about the craft of writing. Two are still on my TBR pile.

I subscribe to blogs such as Writers Helping Writers , Kristen Lamb and Writer Unboxed because I know what I know, and it’s not enough.

Yes, I have a copy of Stephen King’s On Writing. (That makes at least eight craft books.)

Am I a good writer yet? That’s a question I can’t answer, it is mostly down to others to decide. I know this much; I am not good enough yet and I could be better. I will be better if I continue to practise, but this alone does not make me a true writer. The one thing that has been a better teacher than anything else is quite simple.

Finish your stuff.

That’s it.

Simple and yet transformative, as all good advice should be.

Am I a cook if I never serve a finished meal? Am I a musician if I drop my instrument in the middle of a song, never to return? Am I a traveller if I sit down in the road before I reach my destination? Well, kind of… but not really.

Real artists ship.

Steve Jobs, Apple Computers.

Jobs meant that while it is good to have a vision, ultimately you must deliver a finished product.

Getting to the end can be hard. I wrote about my struggle with a story and I get it. Sometimes writing anything at all is the victory. But one day, when I am feeling stronger, I will wrestle that story to some kind of conclusion. Only then is it possible to edit, to look critically, to shape and improve.

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image: aumod via pixabay

Finish what you’re writing. Whatever you have to do to finish it, finish it.

Neil Gaiman’s 8 Rules of Writing

Leaving work unfinished means you never learn how to craft a satisfying ending. You never learn how to fix that sinking feeling that the story ran out of steam. You never learn that juggling too many subplots is exhausting, and trying to tie them all up is a nightmare.

You never learn what needs to improve, or build the skills to do the job right.

Yes, write more, read more, switch genres, switch locations, whatever it takes to get started. The most important thing to do then, is to grit your teeth and see it through to the end.

Marathon runners talk about the 25th mile. Whether they ran fast or slow, they push through because the end is in sight.

Don’t give up before the finish line, because beyond your resistance lies the prize.

A story is a journey that only makes sense when it reaches its conclusion.