The Off-Road Vehicle Mind vs. the Paved Story Plan
By Therese Walsh | December 1, 2015 |
photo by Phil and Pam Gradwell
I’ve been blogging about my journey as an author-in-progress since Writer Unboxed began nearly ten years ago. I have two published books now, and if you’ve followed this site for a while you know that neither was particularly easy for me to write/rewrite. I’ve often thought that it would get easier at some point — that I would figure out something critical and use that insight to march forward into a new script with confidence.
It wouldn’t be accurate to say that nothing’s changed over the last decade, because much has. I understand why I write what I write, for example. That helps.
And then there’s my process.
When I conceived of the story for book #3, I worked through a very specific, complex backstory, and eventually used that to create a detailed synopsis for the fore-story. Using a synopsis is an approach I’ve never tried before with a first draft, but it’s something that’s worked well for a few of my author-friends. And I felt good – great, even – about the story itself.
And you know what happened, right? Take a guess.
Hello, block. I couldn’t write much of anything beyond the first few scenes. Some part of my mind had its leaden brain-foot on the brake pedal of my creativity. Sure, I could write a bit. But I found that whatever I did felt wronger than wrong. The cutting-room floor soon had far more scenes on it than my manuscript had in it. The act of writing began to feel like the worst chore imaginable. Weird when I still cared about the story, still wanted to tell it, still cared about the characters.
What was going on?
A journey in which every step is planned is not a journey at all, but a tour.
What finally instigated some real progress was to veer away from my planned synopsis. Mind you, my backstory and the story’s ultimate destination remained the same, but I was no longer heeding the pre-conceived plan. This character’s perspective (say this, have her do that) turned into that other character’s perspective (let him say what he’d like, just be sure he gets to destination Z by the end of the chapter).
I had gone off-road with the plot.
I think my inability to stay on the paved path ties in with boredom. I don’t like predictable stories as a reader, and I don’t seem to like them as a writer, either.*
*Oh, look, antonyms for boredom include pleasure. This might explain why every time I sat down to write I felt like jabbing my eye out with a pencil. Note that even my method of self-torture had become boring.
An air-tight plan might be great on one level (yes, this story will work), but it leaves me uninspired on a more fundamental one (who cares, not me; what’s on TV tonight?). I need for the characters to develop on the page, through interaction with other characters, through interaction with their environments. I need for ideas to evolve dimensionally and that only happens for me in the course of writing a draft. My subconscious mind likes claiming some of the work of story, then handing it up to my conscious mind later like a gift. And I appreciate those gifts, maybe more than anything else in terms of the process itself.
Maybe the gift of knowledge from this book will be that I need to treat the writing of a novel like a journey rather than a tour of places already scoped out. Because I, too, want to turn over that rock, check out that side road, talk to the locals and find the best pub not yet discovered. I want to be excited to learn what comes next as my characters explore the territory I have yet to imagine. That, for me, is what makes the telling fresh and authentic, and keeps me connected to the story – as a reader and a writer.
Are you ever uninspired by your own story plans, even if you love the story itself? Why do you think that’s the case? What do you do to combat that block?
Therese Walsh (she/her) co-founded Writer Unboxed in 2006 and is the site’s editorial director. She was the editor of WU’s only book, Author in Progress, and runs the Writer Unboxed UnConference.
Her second novel, The Moon Sisters, received starred reviews and was named one of the best books of the year by Library Journal and Book Riot.
Learn more about Therese on her website, and sign up for her newsletter to be among the first to hear about any new projects.
Nice metaphor. I need a road map, but love it when I’m surprised by things my characters say or do.
Thank you! Reminds me of a funny post I saw recently. “When I die, bury me in my Jeep, because I’ve never been in a hole it couldn’t get me out of.”
I like your off road approach to writing and agree whole heartedly. Also grateful for your work here on Writer Unboxed. It’s a creation that keeps on giving to writers like me. Thank you.
That’s a great comment, Lorraine, thanks for sharing. (I used to own a Jeep, too.) So glad you’re enjoying WU, too.
Therese,
I love the distinction you make between a journey and a tour. You reminded me of my trip to Scotland with my husband (if he were a writer, he’d be a plotter for sure). I related to “…let him say what he’d like, just be sure he gets to destination Z by the end of the chapter.” I’ve been making loose maps of my scenes, noting where they start, where they turn and where they end. Seeing how the players hit these marks has become something of an adventure. When I hit the unmovable block, it’s usually because I’ve veered away from the story (that is, entirely off the map) and I have to reel myself back in. Your post reminds me that a map will get you in the neighborhood, but won’t show you all the secret hidey-holes and byways. Striking a balance is always the challenge for me.
The secret hidey-holes and byways are the best places, aren’t they? I think those places are often filled with ideas from the subconscious.
I also block when my version of character isn’t in line with my characters’ evolving selves. Again, I feel the subconscious mind is much wiser, and has its brain-heel hovering near the brake at all times for me.
A million times YES to everything you said here. I have to walk a very fine line between planning and exploring and often step firmly over to the exploring side. This sometimes means more cutting later because my wanderings led to nowhere, but if I stick to the plan everything comes out sounding flat and contrived.
If we had a conversation about our writing process, I suspect we’d be finishing each other’s sentences.
Yes ‘contrived’ is exactly it. And the characters feel cardboard, right?
Exactly!
Yeah, I need a map before I begin writing, and I know my starting and ending point, even some of the high and low points, but I need the freedom to meander, take detours, explore interesting locales. The book I wrote with a map worked out better. There were lots of surprises along the way, but the book I started without a map with just the start and end points is like the image of the car you posted, except it’s still stuck in the muck. My solution … write a different book. LOL. But I still think about those story-people stuck in the car so the story itself won’t let go of me. One of these days, I’ll need to get a crane to get them out, wash and clean the car, feed the people and give them a roadmap. There’s still hope. They haven’t sunk to the bottom yet.
Maybe writing triplets, or a whole tribe ;). We must have been typing our replies together, Vijaya. If someone told me I’d written “I know my starting and ending point, even some of the high and low points, but I need the freedom to meander, take detours, explore interesting locales,” I would believe them without question. It matches me feelings on writing perfectly.
Happy exploring today — hope you find something exquisite and unexpected!
Arrr! It matches me feelings, too, matey. ;)
Vijaya, I had that experience with my first book. I pantsed the whole first draft. Then I had to completely rewrite it. I hope you’re able to find that crane, and rescue those characters. If they’re still calling for help, there’s still hope, right?
Smile. As much as I would love to answer your questions in detail, it would be much easier to simply point at different paragraphs of your post. Someday we’ll have to take a long walk, a journey if you will ;) to piece together how we became writing twins, at least in terms of core motivation and process. But of everything you said, this is what resonates most strongly — “I need for the characters to develop on the page, through interaction with other characters, through interaction with their environments. I need for ideas to evolve dimensionally …”
I’ve essentially gone through a similarly tortuous process as you with not one, but two, concepts for a follow-up to my debut novel. Recently I returned to the first attempt, set aside some months back. In the interim I’d come to realized the spark was still there, personally and professionally. What had derailed me was an attempt to nail down all the pieces so cleanly that I’d become trapped by the recipe rather than exploring the ingredients set before me.
This time I’m returning to my instincts. I begin with a clear image of one or two main characters – where the story opens for them, where they end up, and key moments that shape them in between. From there I travel with them, drafting their experience along the way. In writing my first novel, about halfway through the first draft I did finally compose a list of scenes, along with snippets of dialog and crisp images in each. I’m not sure it would qualify as a synopsis, but once constructed I did follow it faithfully, I think by then I could do so because it offered its own creative rewards, such as weaving together seemingly disparate themes and fleshing out secondary characters who by then had entered the story.
But at the start of the process, there has to be more for me to discover, a few (dozen) stones unturned. That’s what keeps me interested. That’s why I write.
Thanks for sharing your post today. It comes at a good time. Be well, Therese.
“What had derailed me was an attempt to nail down all the pieces so cleanly that I’d become trapped by the recipe rather than exploring the ingredients set before me.” Yes. This!
What you describe in terms of process re: the second half of your story is my experience with a second draft (and etc…). I know the characters well enough by then that I can become more mechanical about the plot without hobbling anyone.
Speaking of hobbling, I look forward to that walk. (Bad segue, sorry.) Salem cemetery, maybe?
Oooh, a cemetery! That could work. Someplace among nature for sure, offering more meandering space ;).
How about this: You can get from town to town by taking the freeway. Everybody takes the freeway (lots of traffic, though). The scenery is not inspiring, but you’ll get there directly.
Or you can get off the freeway and go via local streets. You’ll see a lot of interesting things, and you may get diverted, but if you keep heading in the general direction of that next major scene (er, town) you will eventually arrive, and will have lots of good photos to show people (you can sort them later).
And if you get too lost you can always use GPS (i.e., structure) to get reoriented.
Yes, love it. Thanks for expanding on the metaphor, James.
this is a timely post, as I have just set aside my YA WIP out of a feeling of malaise and general self-loathing about where it’s gone in this draft! I love my characters, but may have been too prescriptive with them. Meanwhile, I am writing the first draft of a middle grade novel, and all I really knew was what was going to happen at the first quarter, middle, crisis and climax markers. The rest has been a meander and it has been a joy. Am hoping that a few weeks away from the other book will give me some well needed perspective and let me loosen my grip on the proverbial golf club…
I feel you, Wendy. I hope the time away helps you gain new insight into what’s happening with that story. Maybe the characters have other plans?
I feel your pain, and have definitely experienced the whole plan-it-then-lose-the-mojo thing.
But I’m determined to try to push through it at least once, since I think planning will be the key to me getting more books written more quickly – something that’s been a real pain point for me. I think the trick will be leaving enough room for discovery along the way. We shall see…
We’re in the same metaphorical boat–err, car. My primary motivation in creating a synopsis in the first place was to make the process move along at a more reasonable rate. I hope it goes well for you, Keith, and that you’ll pass along any wisdom you discover along the way.
Had to reply, Keith, just for your “We shall see …” closing. That phrase has become my mantra for this whole writing adventure. I can scarcely finish any declaration, large or small, about my work without adding “we shall see” at the end, a final open-ended footnote. It occurs to me now the phrase ties quite nicely with the idea of leaving the door open to something new, and possibly even better.
We shall see … ;)
I am still working on my debut novel (nope, not even close to seeking representation but closer than last year). My process seems to be a mind-map method. I have characters. I have settings. I have plot and a couple of subplots. Now I’m weaving them together.
It is a lot of extra work. I do cut scenes, placing them in a dead-end file. Just the other day, I bumped up my twist ending to become my climactic scene and now I have an ending that feels more true to the story. Some days the story feels too complex for my skill set yet, as I try to braid three timelines.
But, I wouldn’t have my process happen any other way because on those days when a blog column or a crit partner hit a nerve with their writing or an idea pops in my head while driving, that radiant flash of energy and inspiration is manna. And it’s amazing how those characters take on a life of their own.
It sounds to me like you’re doing everything right, Lisa. Write on!
I can relate! I have to write without boundaries. That said, I need to “tent pole” the climax and ending and work toward them. Instead of elaborate outlines, I try to end each writing session with an idea of what is to come next, so it isn’t hard to start the next day. Works for me. Boom!
I like the way you put this, Susie — tent-poling the important parts. Even when I pantsed draft one of my first book, I had a firm ending in mind.
T,
Inspiring article! I’ve been hitting roadblock after roadblock (something about checking for refugees) and I think it’s about time I went off road. Do some four-wheelin’. Your piece was just what I needed to read. As always, thanks for the words. Have a cuppa. :)
Thanks, Mike! Enjoy the trip!
Hey, Therese:
Interestingly, I read this post after reading an interview with Steven James, whose Story Trumps Structure is a book I’ve been yodeling about almost nonstop since I first read it.
Steven believes both pantsing and plotting can lead you astray, and instead offers guidance on how to write organically — letting the story evolve through attention to the natural behavior to expect from your characters (believability), close attention to cause-and-effect, and then realizing the necessity of surprise despite being anchored to credibilityy and causality. As long as your surprises emerge naturally (instead of springing out of thin air), you can keep moving through your story as though it’s happening as you write.
That said, I’m in research/planning mode myself right now, and though I’m not wedded to any specific plot or ending, I am dedicated to making sure I understand the richness of my material and use it to full advantage.
So call that the pre-trip planning: reading guidebooks on what lies along the planned route, and being willing to take beguiling detours, with the real plan of every day being to find something new.
Good luck with #3!
Research is my favorite off-road vehicle.
Adding Story Trumps Structure to my to-read list, though I think Steven will be preaching to the choir with me. (Does his work jive with Lisa Cron’s approach? It seems that it might.)
Hey T, Excellent stuff. I haven’t been in new-draft-mode in a while, but it all still resonates for me. I’ve always known a lot of big-picture end-game stuff on every story I’ve written, but what comes along the way is what keeps me going. As Lisa said above, the epiphanies and unexpected connections, the pieces that shock you when they click into place–it’s manna.
Reading your work, I feel all of this. Not that they don’t both feel intricately and tightly woven, but there’s something so organic about them. It’s like we’re with you, discovering the gooey dark center of a delicious dessert. Both books are so ethereal, they impart the feeling that they had to have happened organically.
So I’m sorry that it’s difficult for you. I’m sorry that it takes extra time, that the process isn’t pretty. But the world needs more T Walsh storytelling. So I will be there for my friend whenever I can be, and cheer her onward, down the dark and twisty but organic trail to the delicious center of new book by a favorite author.
You’re the best. Thank you for this, Vaughn.
Therese–
You provoke a number of thoughts in me with your post, and chief among them has to do with Writer Unboxed. You must have asked the question yourself: to what degree is this hugely ambitious online project implicated in the blocks and boredom I experience with my writing? To what degree are the daily demands and satisfactions related to WU in competition with the long-distance running required in drafting, and then refining novels?
I ask for this reason: Your situation can be seen as a Technicolor, widescreen version of how social media makes demands these days on all writers.
And here’s another thought: As an unapologetic pantser, I appreciate your distinction between journeys and tours. I would add this: tours usually involve groups large and small, whereas journeys are taken by individuals.
For me, though, the second half of a novel-writing journey is always better when shared with another person. That would be an experienced and honest editor. Not a crowd of fellow travelers, and not a roomful of people praising and/or criticizing. Just that one smart person who can see what the writer can’t.
Barry, asker of the tough questions… Yes, I ask myself that about WU v. fiction on a regular basis. I do have wonderful people on my team, though, who’ve recently stepped up to help.
I know that I don’t have enough ‘rabbit hole’ time built into my life, where I can disappear into my story world for days, weeks, even months at a time. That’s something I’d like to change in 2016, because there’s an aspect to writing long-form fiction that is, for me, like writing poetry — less forethought, more trust in the underground and time to capture each instinct. (That lack of rabbit-hole time is, in part, why I wrote a synopsis this time around, thinking I’d be able to hen-peck at the manuscript when I could. You see how off-roading it will only get me so far in terms of a solution to my issue.)
I’m the same. I like to outline and plan my story ahead. Kind of like laying down the foundation, the groundwork. But I’ve learned to listen to my character’s and let them take it from there and tell the story. Their story.
“Their story.” Exactly! Thanks, Lidy.
Therese, I love when you say “My subconscious mind likes claiming some of the work of story, then handing it up to my conscious mind later like a gift.” Sometimes I think all writing is subconscious. Author Brenda Ueland likens writing to a river: “The river will begin to flow through you.” She believes “every word must come out of freedom” in order “to be alive.” I’m reading Steven James’ “Story Trumps Structure” now and loving it.
Love that Ueland quote, Paula, thanks. And I think you might be right about all of it coming from the subconscious, at least fundamentally. Otherwise how would it be able to weave things together the way it does, right? Have you heard the story of Brunonia Barry’s first draft of The Lace Reader? Huge twist in that story, and it pretty much appeared on the page without any conscious thought on Brunonia’s part. In fact, after she wrote the scene, she stopped writing for a while, began to feel she didn’t know what she was doing at all. And then she went back, looked at the scenes she deleted, and realized they all actually belonged.
You’re not alone. And I love the way you put it, that it’s a journey not a tour. Nobody ever climbs on a roller coaster expecting a tame ride. And nobody ever voluntarily opens a book for the expectation of boredom. Life is too short to waste tickets for both the reader and the writer.Especially the writer. That’s not the reason we write.
I write partly I think to organize, analyze, and ultimately understand overwhelming feelings churning inside of me. But I have a control freak that needs to feel safe in this storm I’m unleashing on her. The control freak part of me is very good at making outlines, projecting deadlines, and er… controlling everything. However, I also have an adventurer that refuses to wear a raincoat and mocks compasses and umbrellas. She’s the brave soul seeking answers part of me that I secretly admire. My adventurer feeds on impulse and goes on her joyful way pulling the cringing control freak from her corner and plunging into the storm convinced that what they’ll find and what’s on the other side is so worth the journey. The adventurer knows instinctively that although she has a direct line to god in this story world, the characters she meets along the way have their own free will and important stuff to do and say, and will never kneel to the organized religion of the control freak. But the adventurer also knows without the control freak’s sense of direction anarchy would ensue and she’d wander like Alice in Wonderland lost forever down a rabbit hole. I need ’em both, my control freak and my adventurer to make it to that well earned bittersweet spot where I can deservedly type THE END.
We sound similar, Bernadette (why does this not surprise me?). Have to ask, do you find your control-freak side less active in the evening? When do you write?
You know, I used to find my muse came out to play at night. And I had to trigger her with music.Back then the control freak didn’t have much .control of the situation as the adventurer liked to tie her up and run off with the muse. But due to a day job with an erratic schedule my control freak for the survival of creativity has become much stronger and learned to organize things I only used to put on paper, mentally. Impressions or snatches of story have always seeped into my head at random times and I would lose them to the air if my control freak didn’t write ’em down. But now I’ve learned to keep mental files of those snatches and impressions.Due to my control freak’s growing discipline I can pull them up pretty much at will and also coax the muse out to play with both the adventurer and control freak pretty much at will. As my control freak has become more efficient so has my creativity, I believe, become more malleable and honed. I used to kinda scorn my control freak in the face of my creativity. Not any more. I appreciate what she brings on board and realize she is just as much an important part of the creative process as her wilder cohorts. We’re all a team.
What a great attitude and evolved system, Bee. Wish I were there!
Maybe crashing and burning is the way to go. I rarely speed. I’ve never gotten a ticket. The time I was in a hurry(a funeral), the cop who pulled me over was also having a sad day so he wouldn’t give me a ticket. I’m just not getting enough back from my roadmaps. Must reroute.
(Speaking of road trips, ahem. ;-) )
Thanks for helping me feel normal–or at least as normal as a writer can feel.
Therese, thanks for the peek into your process. And we’re all waiting for number three. (No pressure.)
I start out with a car and a road (which is the inspiration, some intuitive glimpse that I always let ferment before writing a word, until it’s double or triple in size. It has to haunt me.) Then I check the map–the highways and the back roads, pretty carefully. As for the car I defer maintenance on it, particularly the steering gear and tie rod ends. And the tires are mismatched. All on purpose. (The driver has been known to, figuratively, be a little intoxicated.)
I fold the map, then mind-bend the guardrails into paper mache. So if the view over there interests the characters we blast through fields and creeks for a while. Yes, I’ve reserved a room in the hotel I hope to reach. But I carry a credit card, because the ending the characters need may not have come up on google.
When we cross tracks out there, let’s have a picnic and sip each others’ scenes. Until then, here’s to ya!
Sounds idyllic. See you out there, sir.
Therese, I’m with you. If I know exactly where I’m going with the story, I might as well be writing one of the nonfiction pieces I write every day to pay the bills. I’m allergic to outlines so, even for my day job, I avoid them unless the client asks for it. With nonfiction I know where I’m going with the piece and usually what the conclusions will be. But when I do happen upon an unexpected bit of information that adds a new perspective, that’s when the neurons light up. The same holds true for writing fiction. Otherwise, as you said so eloquently, it leads to boredom.
This in spades: “Oh, look, antonyms for boredom include pleasure. This might explain why every time I sat down to write I felt like jabbing my eye out with a pencil.”
Yes, Densie, so true. I write nonfiction as well, and I need for there to be a distinction. Maybe boredom wouldn’t be such a big issue for me if the fiction were short. Maybe. But when you’re talking about spending–in my case anyway–several years with a piece, you have to be excited about it. And I’m not excited about blueprints.
Well, this certainly has produced a long string of comments… And I come along to add to it.
YES. I agree wholeheartedly with the concept of journey vs tour. I really do not want to travel the well-worn highway.
When I start a historical novel I know a couple of things for sure. The time, the place, the historical significance of the time and place.
I know the protagonist, having chosen him/her for what I want the story to say.
I have an idea of the overview of the story. Nothing detailed. Just a vague idea of where it belongs in the historical timeline.
BUT
I know the exact ending. Not the exact scene, but exactly how the story ends. Always ironic, not always happy.
Recently I began a parallel novel to follow the same story through a different protagonist. I love the concept, I love the theme, I love the character. But it is a twice-told tale, and I simply cannot write it. There are no surprises.
Next…..
So intriguing to hear “Always ironic, not always happy.” I’m intrigued!
I understand your boredom with the tale-from-two-protagonists, but it’s an interesting concept to tell the story twice. Maybe if you could turn it inside out ala Gregory Maguire, make the story new again somehow…
Thanks for the interesting comment!
Hey, Therese. Your post is timely because I’m edging up to writing a sequel to The Vampire Kitty-cat Chronicles, and I’ve tinkered with the notion of nailing down events before getting started — but that’s gone nowhere fast. So I’m revving the engine, puttin’ ‘er in 4-wheel drive, and heading toward the end on a journey that will take me . . . where? Can’t wait to find out.
I look forward to hearing about the journey from down the road. Good luck, Ray!
Wonderful…yes, yes. To so many of the comments, too! I think I really love the dichotomy of Bernadette’s control freak and adventurer, as I find I swing back and forth between trying to plan it all out neatly and wandering off the road when I spot something intriguing. Certainly, I imagine if I left it all to the control freak we’d never leave the house: we don’t have the right equipment, or the right weather forecast, or… By now the adventurer is either dozing off or plotting to climb out the window without her. It’s tricky to find the right balance, but perhaps the real challenge is just being patient with the process, with the journey, worrying less about whether we’ll all get there. At least that’s how it goes for me. But yeah, it sure isn’t speedy.
David C, I’ve noticed your yodeling about Story Trumps Structure! Time to move getting and reading the book from a “one of these days” list to the “soon” list.
I love the idea of a control freak and an adventurer, too. I think my adventurer is a little sulky, though, a lot stubborn, and not at all willing to work with the freak. The freak, of course, is just doing her freak-thing, trying to be Perfect, oblivious to her annoying nature and the fact that she’s actually the entire problem.
This made me laugh–you have to love the freak: she certainly does mean well! And she’s very useful when revisions roll around. As Bernadette said in her reply, we need the whole team.
T, it’s funny in light of your post, but today my big task was to take a bunch of scattered notes on scene possibilities, time frames, historical addendums and some character elaborations for the collaborative novel I’m working on—set in the 1930s—and make a reasonable scheme for the book’s further work. Because I lean (or stagger) more toward the pantser point of view, saying these are scattered notes is putting a tuxedo on a wolverine. They are more impressionistic asides, thought lunges and “what about thisses” that have gone back and forth between me and my co-writer.
But so far we’ve been able to patch together a “you write this scene and I’ll follow it with this one” format, with an all-cuisine menu of scene/character/plot notes for the writer who isn’t writing the current scene to mull over. The notes also have a lot of tangents that could or could not be pursued in further chapters. But we do actually feel like the work is fairly controlled, and is moving toward its conclusion, which is mapped out, though in pencil. (Hmm, maybe rather than saying I’m a pantser, it’s I’m more like I have one leg loosely lolling in wrinkled pants, and the other outside of the well-pressed pantleg. Oh, that sounds vaguely perverse. Never mind.)
Anyway, this work is a fairly organic process for us. But as with many organic products, these notes can also rot quickly if they aren’t eaten or frozen. At least they make good compost.
Your writing never fails to make me smile, Tom. Very interesting about your working with a partner, too. I hope to hear more about that down the road–or off the road, as the case may be.
You know Therese, I had a very similar experience. For whatever reason, I resolved to do a proper outline and stick to it. And I did, despite my characters running away from it at every turn.
And it was boring and even painful. About halfway through, I pitched the outline and let my characters run free like little wood nymphs. And then they were happy and I was happy and the story I think was better.
Although outlines aren’t my style, I do like to do a beat sheet after the first draft is done. It helps me to keep track and also shows me where I have gaps in the story. Outside of that, it’s organic all the way.
Great post. :D
Yes, painfully boring. I have a completely different set of rules after the first draft, too. To lean on Bernadette’s ‘adventurer’ and ‘control freak’ model, the control freak is welcome–even needed–for the second draft and beyond.
Thanks for your comment!
Therese,
I so love reading about other people who think like me. I cannot write from an outline, and never will. When I begin my novels, I have a general idea how they will end, and maybe one major conflict, but the rest remains a mystery to me. I often look back over pages I’ve just written, and surprise myself with events that I had no idea would be a part of my book.
Keep up the writing – keep doing what works for you!
Thanks, ShennonDoah. I’ll be singing your song the rest of the day… :-)
Love how you summed this.up. I have been wanting to expand into other genres, but get stuck after a few chapters (or pieces of chapters). I like the road trip analogy, because who doesn’t like to go on a trip. BUT I also like taking detours and explore the side attractions you’ll see along the way. Makes the trip more interesting.
Tracey, I’ve often thought about experimenting in other genres in this way — off-roading much more of the story. Even if it never became publishable, the work could make for an interesting exercise.
Thanks T. This is great stuff.
It reminds me of McKee: “Give the reader what they want, but not in the way they expect.”
Even the best plotted novels — I think of The Way of Kings — stray off the beaten path because of try/fail cycles. And, honestly, even the most rigid pantser will need to deviate from pantsing and bring some order to chaos. In either case, honing the expectations of the reader so that they can envision a parallel, weaker ending than the one we deliver is exactly off-roading as you’ve described.
Often it’s when I stick to my tried-and-true methods that a story becomes weak. If it doesn’t surprise me, the author, it will never surprise my readers.
Great stuff.
Love this McKee quote, thanks, Lance. Maybe it’s also true that we need to give the author something s/he wants, but not in the way s/he expects, to keep said author from becoming bored with the process. And maybe it’s also true that story benefits from this, because we’re able to create better/more authentic/more organic/more interesting developments while in the thick of a draft–when we’re deep down that rabbit hole, invested in characters and their journey.
Ooooh! There we go. I’m going to be chewing on that for awhile…
Catching up on reading blogs today, so I know I’m late to the comment party, but…
THIS—> “My subconscious mind likes claiming some of the work of story, then handing it up to my conscious mind later like a gift. And I appreciate those gifts, maybe more than anything else in terms of the process itself.” Yes, I’m totally there, and not just in drafting mode. I’ve been out of it because I’ve been editing a MS I’ve been thinking about, researching, writing, revising, and editing for three years. During this last edit I was still finding parallels in the different storylines I don’t remember putting in there on purpose. So fun!
Erin, isn’t that the best? Easter Eggs, storyteller’s edition.
Therese, I love how you’re able to reflect on your process and your journey with so much grace. Thanks for sharing what you’ve learned! I’m still figuring my way through a lot of this, and it helps to see where others have tread. :)
You’re so kind, Kristan, thank you. Sometimes my off-roading mind gets stuck, and I don’t know why, and these posts help me to at least figure out the mechanics of what’s going on. So thank YOU for bearing with me as I walk around in the mud and file a report. :-)
I’ve heard so many pantsers say this; you’re definitely not the only one! I’ve written five manuscripts so far. I plotted one down to every last detail, pantsed one with nothing but a concept, and decided for the other three that somewhere in the middle is my favorite way to do it. Those all had a skeleton structure with no meat on the bones. I knew the basic points I wanted to hit, but let myself get to them however it struck me as I was drafting. That, to me, is the best of both worlds. I get the safety net of knowing where I’m going, but all the fun of figuring out how to get there. :)