Getting Started—Keeping Going: Finding Time and the Words to Write

by Darlene Ryan

More winners! Congratulations to Susan E. who wins The Writers' Book of Matches and a Laura Secord frosted mint chocolate bar. And congrats as well to David Cranmer winner of copies of Twilight Falls, The Watchman, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo and a Laura Secord dark chocolate almond bar. Please send your snail mail address to me at darlene at darleneryan.com (change the "at" to @ of course)

Thank you everyone for joining us this weekend.

When I wrote my first book the munchkin was a baby, her father was working out of town, and I had to walk everywhere. Up hill. In waist high snow. In my bare feet.

Okay, so maybe I’m exaggerating a little. My point is I didn’t have a lot of time—or a lot of adult company which probably explains why,for a short time, Luis on Sesame Street started looking pretty darn cute. But I finished the book and it was published. I was tired all the time. I was either with the munchkin, doing laundry, or writing. But I finished the book and it was published. The key for me was setting a goal and working toward it every day.

I wanted to write that book more than I wanted to do just about anything else. More than I wanted to watch Law & Order—and I have a deep and abiding adoration for Jesse L. Martin—more than I wanted sleep. Every day I did something that got me a little closer to that goal. I wrote at least a page, even if I was sitting at the computer literally holding my eyelids up with one hand and typing with the other. I checked out publishers’ websites and prowled the bookstores and the library for books similar to mine, while the munchkin sat in her stroller and tried to launch her teddy bear over the shelves like some furry Evel Knievel.

If you have little people in your life—or maybe it’s aging parents—grab every chance you have to write. Carry a small notebook and pencil and scribble down ideas, lines of dialogue, scene descriptions everything, as soon as you think of it. Because with little people clamouring for your attention ideas disappear faster than Cheerios®. When you have more time, expand your ideas, write those scenes—either when everyone’s gone to bed or before they get up. I found that if you wait until you have time you’ll never get that book written.

Take a hard look at your week. Spouses and kids can bake potatoes, steam veggies and sprinkle some cheese over it all for a great supper giving you half an hour to write. You won’t really pine away to nothing if you don’t see the delectable Wolf and the next episode of American Gladiators. (Does anyone know if he has a poster, by the way?) And be honest: how much time do you really spend checking email? A few minutes here, a few minutes there can add up to enough time to write a page or maybe two. And in a year that’s an entire book.

But what happens if you find the time to write, but you can’t find the words? What do you do when you’re stuck. Call it writer’s block. Call it fear of failing or fear of succeeding. Doesn’t matter. You’re frozen in front of the keyboard. Now what?

Having a detailed outline is one way to keep from feeling stuck when you’re writing. But not everyone likes to use an outline and even those of us who do, can write ourselves into a hole.

The best way I know to get unstuck is to write myself out of the hole, after all, I wrote myself in. I know some writers who can think themselves unstuck. I have to do it with words. Sometimes lots of words. Most of what I write under those circumstances I don’t use. That’s not the point. If it’s your writing time you write. Even if everything you create is dreck. Pretty soon it won’t be. (And if it is, there’s always editing. See yesterday's post.) I keep writing, no matter how awful what I’m writing seems, until I figure out what my problem is and how to fix it. At one time or another I’ve used all of the following to get myself unstuck:

1. Decide what the next logical thing to happen should be and write the opposite.

2. Reveal a deep, dark secret about a character.

3. Change the point of view character. Or change POV all together—from third person to first, or from close third to omniscient third.

4. Put two characters together who have no connection and have them fight, share information, or get lusty.

5. Turn the main character’s best friend into her enemy.

6. Turn the main character’s enemy into a friend.

7. Kill someone—the main character’s source of information, his best friend, his mother.

And if none of these ideas work for you, there’s always chocolate. Just keep writing. Probably the best writing advice I ever heard came from Billy Crystal’s character in Throw Momma From the Train: A writer writes.

There are two giveaways today. One for inspiration and one for entertainment.

To inspire you: The Writers’ Book of Matches—1001 writing prompts and a Laura Secord frosted mint chocolate bar.

To entertain you: Twilight Falls by Lynn Viehl, The Watchman by Robert Crais, The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson and a Laura Secord dark chocolate almond bar

(Disclaimer: Lynn Viehl is a writing friend. Lynn gave me an advance copy of Twilight Falls. It's terrific. If I had problems with the book I'd say so. I received an advance copy of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo from the publisher. I couldn't put it down. Again, if I didn't like the book, no matter where it came from, I'd say so.)

If you'd like a chance to win one of these two giveaways, make a comment on this workshop (or just say “Hello” in comments) before eight PM eastern time today, August 3, 2008. The munchkin—who like Elliot Ness cannot be bribed—will draw two names from everyone who comments. The draw is open to anyone, anywhere, even if you’ve won something here before. Good luck.

For a list of more workshops to inspire you visit: Paperback Writer

Editing 101

by Darlene Ryan

Winners! We put all the names in my lucky Law & Order hat and we have two winners. Winner of The Right to Write and chocolate is Elise. Winner of Murder is Binding, Demons are a Ghoul's Best Friend and chocolate is Jen. Ladies, please email your mailing addresses to darlene at darleneryan.com (change the "at" to @) Thank you everyone for your comments. Come back tomorrow to talk about finding the time to write and for two more giveaways.

Step One:

Write the dang book. The entire book. All the way to the end. Finished. Done. Completed.

Step Two:

Go back and read Step One. Finished means the whole story has been written, not just the beginning and the ending, and some notes about the abyss known as the middle. All of it. It doesn’t matter how badly it’s written. You can’t edit what hasn’t been created.

So you’re working on the book. What happens if a third of the way through you suddenly realize Rick should be Rhonda? Or the cabin where you set the story needs to be by a river instead of a lake? Keep going making the change from where you are forward. From now on Rick is a petite blonde who hides tofu ice cream bars in the freezer and can’t walk in high heels, instead of a six foot three African-American with an addiction to Boston cream donuts. And from now on the cabin is next to a rushing river, swollen with the spring run-off, instead of a lake so still the surface reflects the trees like a mirror. On an index card or a notepad write a reminder: Chapters 1 – 6 change Rick to Rhonda, Chapters 2 – 5 cabin on river instead of lake.

Step Three:

Once a book is finished I try to take two or three days off before I start any editing. That breathing room helps me look more objectively at what I’ve written. When I’m ready to edit, the first thing I do is look at my notes and see what things I need to fix. This is the point at which I go back and give Rick a sex change, turn the lake into a river, and do any foreshadowing I forgot in my outline.

Step Four:

I like to do my actual editing on a printed copy of the manuscript—for some reason I catch more mistakes on paper than I do on a computer screen—but before printing anything I run a spell check to look for grammar and spelling errors. And I use Word’s Find feature to search for words I tend to overuse, like very, just and almost.

Because I’m always looking for ways to use less paper I print this draft out on what I call scrap paper—pages that have already been used on one side. Then I sit down with my copy of the manuscript, a pencil, and a notepad.

As much as I can, I like to make all my notes on the printed copy of the manuscript. The one exception is notes about any new scenes I need to write. I’ll mark the manuscript where a scene needs to be inserted, but notes about the scene go on my notepad. For example, let’s say I decide I need to add a scene at the end of Chapter 3 that shows Rhonda’s fear of heights. In the manuscript, at the end of the chapter I’ll write “A.” On my notepad I’ll write A again but with an explanation: Scene with Rhonda in the attic showing her fear of heights. If I need to add another scene it’s labeled “B” and so on.

Step Five:

Once I’ve been all the way through the manuscript it’s back to the computer to write any new scenes and type in all my revisions. When I’m finished I run spell-check again and print out a new, corrected copy of the manuscript. This copy I read out loud. It’s the best way I’ve found for catching mistakes. I make corrections on the pages as I read and then on my computer copy.

Step Six:

I only use this step when there’s something that bothers me about a book. Maybe it’s just one scene that reads “wrong.” Maybe it’s an entire chapter. I copy the pages into a new file and send it to my friend Susan with a whiny email that says, “This sucks. I’ve forgotten how to write and I’m going to Wal-mart to apply for a job.” In a couple of hours I’ll get an email back written in the same tone one would use with the very young, the very old, and the very deranged, with a reminder that a blue vest would not flatter my figure and a suggestion such as, “Do you have to kill this character?” or “The transition between scenes was a little abrupt.”

And I realize she’s right. (She always is and I always smack myself in the forehead and think, why didn’t I see that?) I fix the problem scene, make sure the pages are numbered properly and everything is formatted the way it should be, and then send the book off to my editor.

Now right before your manuscript leaves your hands or your computer on its way to an editor, you may be hit with the urge to read it just one more time. I know a writer who ended up re-reading the first chapter of her manuscript twelve times looking for errors.

(Okay, that was me.)

Have confidence in your ability and try not to give in to the feeling. The best advice I've ever heard about writing came from Billy Crystal's character in Throw Momma From the Train: A writer writes.

For a list of more workshops to inspire you visit: Paperback Writer

There are two giveaways today. One for inspiration and one for entertainment.

To inspire you: The Right to Write by Julia Cameron and a Laura Secord frosted mint chocolate bar.

And to entertain you: Murder is Binding by Lorna Barrett and Demon’s are a Ghoul’s Best Friend by Victoria Laurie and a Laura Secord premium white chocolate bar.

(Disclaimer: Lorna Barrett is a writing friend. She's done a great job with Murder is Binding, the first in the Booktown series. Even though I know Lorna--and her alter ego, Lorraine--if I didn't like the book I wouldn't say I did.)

If you'd like a chance to win one of these two giveaways, make a comment on this workshop (or just say “Hello” in comments) before eight PM eastern time today, August 2, 2008. The munchkin—who cannot be bribed, even with chocolate—will draw two names from everyone who comments. The draw is open to anyone, anywhere, even if you’ve won something here before. Good luck.

If you haven't checked out the Forgotten Books Project http://pattinase.blogspot.com stop by this coming Friday and read more about my favorite forgotten series, Meg O'Brien's Jessica James mysteries, and then look through the archives for more books you may not have read but probably should have.

Following the Maybes

Elizabeth Zelvin

I don’t write about writing as frequently as my blog sisters on Poe’s Deadly Daughters. Maybe that’s because my method doesn’t bear too much analysis. In the division between outliners and into-the-mist writers (or seat-of-the-pantsers, as some call them), I fall definitely—or mistily—into the category of those who don’t or can’t outline. Picking my way through a mist, with light shining only a little way ahead and no idea what lies beyond that bit of illumination, is an excellent description of how I write a novel. As I’ve said before, writing short—a poem, a story, a song, a blog post, or a letter to an online therapy client—is a whole lot easier than writing in the mist.

In a recent online discussion about how people write, I was interested to learn that for some writers, outlining means not a sheaf of pages that look like a Power Point presentation, but a collection of little notes. Using index cards or Post-its, they write signposts along the path of the story. For example: “The power fails, lights go out, covering up second murder.” “Journalist wrote a story about the developers.” “Protag and friends search boyfriend’s room for victim’s notebook.” “Roommate is bulimic, hears murderer while in bathroom throwing up.”

“Ohhh,” I said. “Is that outlining? I do that—or something very like it.” My examples are in fact notes from a manuscript later in my series. All of them were written during the writing of the first draft—not before, but during the process, as they occurred to me. Some of the events mentioned made it into the draft, others did not. The story took itself in different directions. But that’s exactly what these little-note outliners say happens to their stories. The outline is not inflexible, and it can’t be allowed to trammel the creative process. On the other hand, it is much harder to write not knowing what’s going to happen next, no less in the end, from moment to moment the whole length of 250 pages.

So what’s the difference between outlining and what I do? Is there a difference? For one thing, these notes by no means tell the story. They cover only those flashes in the midst that happen to catch my inner eye. When I think of a mist with headlights trying to break through and mysterious happenings hidden behind its veil, I think of a drive my husband and I once took along the Blue Ridge Parkway on a day so foggy that the Blue Ridge was invisible. It was very quiet, the damp air a heavy blanket muffling sound and movement. Once or twice we spotted a deer cropping grass by the roadside, undisturbed by the beam of our headlights glancing off it.

The note taking is like that. If the headlights fall to the left, I see a deer—make a note. There may be a bear to the right that I never see. Sometimes the note-thoughts come to me as I write, sometimes as I lie in bed thinking of yesterday’s writing and of today’s to come. Sometimes not just plot ideas but lines of dialogue and even occasional descriptive passages bubble up while I’m out running. That’s why I carry a lightweight digital recorder. I get it down before I can forget it and make the note when I get back to my pen and my Post-its.

But here’s the biggest difference. To me, “outline” means “commitment.” If I say I’m an outliner, I must have sticky notes, and each note must represent a bit of the story that I am committed to tell, even if the rule is that it’s okay to change my mind later. Every single one of my notes (including the true versions of the examples above) start with “Maybe.” “Maybe the power fails…” “Maybe the journalist wrote a story…” “Maybe the roommate is bulimic…” I’m not committed. But I don’t want to throw away what may turn out to be perfectly good plot points, certainly not just because of my lousy aging memory. Writing it down is like taking a quick photo of that deer at the edge of the mist. I’ve got it, and if I want to, I’ll use it later—maybe.

Building a Career

by Darlene Ryan

If you came looking for Sharon Wildwind who's usually in this space on Tuesdays, check back on Saturday, Sharon will be here then, interviewing mystery writer, Lyn Hamilton.

Since we’re almost a month into the new year I thought this would be a good time to talk about building a writing career. Think of this as a list of things I’ve learned the hard way, things your mother would tell you, except she’s not a writer.

1. Writing for a living is not the same as getting published no matter what. The desire to have your book in print—to be able to wave it in the face of all those nay-sayers who’ve delighted in telling you it was never going to happen—can be enough to make otherwise intelligent people act as though their brains just fell out of their noses. If what you want is to make writing your career, stop pouncing on every gimmick and dubious opportunity that pops up. Set goals. Make a plan. If you don’t take your writing seriously neither will anyone else.

2. Writing is a profession. Behave professionally. Trashing your agent, your editor, your publishing house, or that writer you know who just signed a contract with a lot of zeros, in any public forum, will come back to bite you. With pointy teeth. In a place that hurts a lot. A conference is a public forum. So is a book signing, a workshop and a critique group. So is a blog. When that big vein in your forehead starts throbbing think twice about where you blow off steam.

3. Writing is a business. Educate yourself. Agents, publishers, genres, trends, marketing-- find out the basics about all of it. Read. Take workshops. Go to book signings. Make friends with librarians and booksellers and other writers. Ask questions. It takes years, a lot of studying, a lot of hands-on work, and more than a few shocks to become an electrician. Building a writing career isn’t a whole lot different.

4. Other writers are not the enemy. The publishing business is not like a cake. If Sandy and Liz and Julia and Sharon and Lonnie get to a cake first it’s likely there won’t be anything left by the time I show up—especially if it’s chocolate. But if Sandy and Liz and Julia and Sharon and Lonnie all get book contracts it doesn’t mean there’s no longer anyone who wants my book. I admit I’m not that highly evolved a person that I haven’t felt some twinges of jealousy, or eaten half a cake when a writer I know signs with the hotshot agent or gets a multi-book deal. But the feeling doesn’t last. And it gives me the push to get back at it, so that next time I’ll be the one with the good news.

5. Published writers don’t have some inside knowledge that gets them published and keeps you out. There’s no secret handshake or special code we add to our correspondence. We don’t say, “The scarecrow walks at midnight,” when we meet an agent or an editor so they’ll know we’re part of the club. We just write. We write the very best book we can. Then we send it out into the world and start writing another one.

6. Write the book. This one seems so simple but it’s also what messes up a lot of writers. You have to finish the book. And that won’t happen if you never get past chapter twelve. “But there’s this voice in my head that keeps telling me it’s all a pile of dreck,” I’ve heard more than one writer say. It’s your head. Ignore the voice. Kick it out. Tell it to go do something anatomically impossible.

And that’s it.

You want to be a writer? Go write.

That’s what it takes.