psychology

Resting In The Palm Of Your Hand

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com and Steve’s Tumblr.  Find out more at my newsletter.)

Several times when I’ve read about psychology, philosophy, and meditation I’ve seen people go about how you can’t really “grasp” things. You can’t truly hold an emotion because you live it. You can’t truly sieze on peace of mind because it disrupts piece of mind. These are things you experience, but they can’t be put into a box.

This is very frustrating to many people (at times myself) because we so want to grasp the idea, the feeling, the mental state. As soon as we do it’s gone.

This I have found is true of writing as well.

Me, I’m a planner, but as many of you have read over the years, when I overplann my work falls apart. I can have everything outlined and linear, have a schedule, and at that moment I am the most vulnerable. At some point you have so much plan and schedule, you don’t have a book or a story – the plan predomnates, the schedule dominates.

When I back off, I’m suddenly more in touch with my work. I feel it because I’m not trying to control it.

When I back off, the ideas flow. I’ve loosened the flow of ideas as opposed to immediately channeling them.

As I’ve said earlier, I think it’s important for an author (or any artist) to stay in touch with their work. From creating it to editing it, rereading it to blue-sky dreaming, it helps to stay in touch. It ensures it’s a part of you, not something you rip out of yourself and throw into a plan.

We must touch our work, but not sieze it so powerfully as to loose it. Instead, it’s like letting something rest in the palm of your hand – it’s there, you’re in contact with it, but you’re letting it be.

It may be painful and tear through us. It may be something that makes us think graceful thoughts or feel subtle emotions. But we need to let our creativity be itself enough that we can manifest it as books, songs, games, and more.

Steven Savage

Plots, Pants, And Flows

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com and Steve’s Tumblr.  Find out more at my newsletter.)

Writers have heard this over and over again.

Some people are plotters, detailing out their stories before writing.

Some people are pantsers, charging ahead writing with little or no outline.

Some people are “plantsers” walking a line between both.

Though these are convenient ways to classify writers, they’re limited. These classifications are much like the classic and oft-mocked D&D alignment chart – interesting originally, but restrictive in the end. Are any of us one of the above all the time, in all of our writing?

As of late I’d struggled with my latest novel – I tend to more of a “plotter,” but it hadn’t quite worked for me. At the same time, pantsing or “plantsing” didn’t work for me either. I felt disconnected from my work, my writing lacked an intimacy.

This had rarely happened with my nonfiction work. Indeed, it seemed I could step into that work with ease for the most part. This wasn’t surprising, as I’ve done mostly nonfiction the last decade – a second novel being a challenge presented no surprise.

So as I meandered towards a solution, I decided to replot a troublesome chapter. This suddenly awakened my imagination, that intimate connection with one piece of my work to the exclusion of all else. Everything felt alive.

Then, I took a look at authors I knew with both challenges and lacks of challenges. Those who had trouble with their works had lost a connection with it, from not liking it to fearing audience reaction to not caring. Writers with few troubles felt an intimate connection to their work – it could be love of characters or joy in “mechanizing” a story, but it was intimate.

My rewrite of a single chapter felt more intimate. That told me what I’d been missing – I’d let so many things distract me from my work. Replotting a chapter reconnected me.

Looking at my past works I could see when works had been easy, I had a sense of intimacy and connection. I had made books on potentially boring subjects and had been absolutely enjoying it. I write many worldbooks and those involved a well-polished system, and it’s fun.

So let’s stop thinking about pants, plotting, and “plantsing.” Let’s ask what methods keep us connected to our works and intimate with our goals. Maybe one time we plot, maybe one time we “pants,” and another time we do something else.

If you’re not feeling connected to your work, then it’s time to switch up how you do things. Who knows, you might invent an new way to classify writers we can all misuse . . .

Steven Savage

The Angel Is In The Action

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(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com and Steve’s Tumblr.  Find out more at my newsletter.)

We’ve often heard it said The Devil is in the Details, which is certainly true in writing. We can plot and outline all we want, but when one truly writes, that’s when we find out just how many unexpected details and findings can bedevil us. Writing is often overwhelming when we dive into a work because there’s so much we have to think about.

Worldbuilding is a prime example. No matter how much you plan, you’ll quickly ask questions, find holes, or create problems for yourself. Worldbuilding is challenging, and not everyone embraces it with the same (masochistic?) fervor as some.

Characters are another example. We’ve all had writing experiences where characters made up their minds to be different. These moments are delightful, but not so blissful is the realization 70% of your plans got tossed out.

Language is yet another example of bedeviling details when we write, in nonfiction or fiction. As you write, you keep putting yourself in the shoes of the audience – and we may find that we’re not wearing the right shoes. Creating something is a hellish chance to find that you’re not speaking to the proper audience, or you don’t know that audience as well as you’d like.

Our own outlines may cause us problems. We can see a beautiful map, a wonderful path, and then writing it down only brings out many confusing questions and issues. For some of us, the best laid plans don’t even get set down before they go wrong in our heads.

Any moment like these can derail us, confuse us, and make us despondent. We’re writing and our own writing is making us miserable.

A break may be in order, but let me suggest this – if the Devil is in the Details, then let’s keep going. The Angel is in the Action, as it were – moving forward we find salvation from our problems.

If we address the problems we find as best we can – even if taking a note to fix it later – we go on, accomplish things, and can revise work later. We may even find the problem can be revised elsewhere in our work.

If we keep writing, we’ll accomplish work, achieving both our goals and having a reminder of just what we can accomplish. By continuing to write, even when harassed by our own fear of details and fine points, we at least move forward and maintain our confidence.

If we work around our problems and fears and challenges, we may find we don’t even have to deal with them. Sometimes a retrospective reveals our fears weren’t an issue all along.

If nothing else, completing a work or a piece lets you revise it from a point of surety – even if you’re sure it’s not that good.

We don’t really learn something until we do it, and that includes fixing our stories or overcoming issues of missing detail. If we let the Devil hiding in the details get to us, we forget that it’s our work and we have the power to fix problems. Powering through, keeping going, lets us leave him behind, lets us find our Angel – be it a new idea, a solution, or a workaround.

Take action when writing frustrates you. Keep moving forward – even if it’s in circles. Maybe take a little break, but don’t let the Devil whisper in your ear you can’t do it. Find the Angel in your actions.

Steven Savage