Writing advice

You’re More Of A Writer Than You Know

by

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

So lately I was reading the FATE Core system. Yes, I read gamebooks, not just to play them, but because of a possible side game project. While reading, I put some other reading on hold as a gamebook is, well, a book.

This had me thinking about how much writing we do that we don’t think of as writing. You, a potential or current writer, may not see how much of a writer you already are.

If you write a report at work, people might not think of it as writing – including you. That thing may be 60 pages of prose, infographics, and careful phrasing, a virtual novella of workflows. Yet, some (including you) may not think of it as writing.

If you create a newsletter for your friends and family every month or every quarter, it’s writing. Sure, it’s got a zip file filled with cat pictures, but it’s writing. In fact, if you do a newsletter for your own writing, that’s writing.

If you’re a Business Analyst, a lot of what you do is writing. Feature sets and Scrum Stories, updates, and wireframes all involve writing.

Think of any of the above works – they involve enormous amounts of skills. One has to craft communications, pick words, create enormous amounts of writing. Creators format and organize and edit these seemingly “not-so-writerly” creations. They’re writing.

And of course, if you’re writing a game manual, then you’re a writer.

Which means there’s a very good chance you’re a writer right now.

Which means even if you think of yourself as a writer and do these things, you’re more of a writer than you know.

Which means a lot of things you do are writing. So if you feel you aren’t enough of a writer, or can’t be a writer, chances are that’s B.S. – you’re a writer. You just want to be more of one about specific works.

SO next time you doubt your writing, ask about all the things you do at work or at home. Chances are you’ve got less to doubt, do more than you think, and are learning more than you realize.

Now, use it to be the writer you want to be.

Steven Savage

Finishing Flawed Fiction And Processing Piecemeal Prescriptions

by

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

As I edit A Bridge To The Quiet Planet to get it ready for my awesome professional editor, I reflected on what I went through to write the book.  I see now this could have been faster if I hadn’t spent time editing as I went, chapter by chapter until the halfway point.  In short, I actually aimed for quality too early.

At first this violated my expectations.  Being into Agile, I figured that doing it piece by piece, making chapters available to prereaders, would result in better quality.  It’s something I’ve read about authors doing before, and I’d read several articles on how instructional writing (which I’ve done for awhile) can be released in modules.  Shouldn’t a story be something you can release chapter by chapter and get good feedback?

Not entirely.

Now I’m not saying it’s a bad idea to make fiction available to prereaders in parts, but I’ve come to the conclusion that’s of very limited value.  Here’s why.

Instructional and nonfiction works are often something we can break down – and indeed, should break down – into pieces that almost anyone could edit.  Yes, some may miss context or seem borderline useless on their own, but nonfiction is often very modular.  We process instructions, history, documentation, etc. in discreet chunks – we think step-by-step.

Nonfiction works are a lot like modular software or dishes where you can sample individual ingredients and get an idea of their combined taste.

But fictional works?  They’re different.

Fictional works are much more of a whole.  They’re intellectual and emotional and literary, requiring many modes of thought and feeling to appreciate them.  They often have mysteries and callbacks and references – indeed, deception is part of some some fiction writing.  Fiction is hard to evaluate apart from the whole of the work – to truly “get” it you need the whole experience a complete work.  Finally, as fiction involves imagination, you often discover your work as you write it.

Fictional works are like software that requires a lot of code to be done before it functions or a crude alpha before it can be evaluated.  They’re like a dish that you can’t appreciate until it’s done, or ones requiring careful tweaking to get “just right.”

I now realize that I could be delivering A Bridge To The Quiet Planet to you quicker if I’d decided, as opposed to editing chapter by chapter, I’d just run on and pushed myself to finish the thing and accepted it wasn’t perfect – maybe put out one or two chapters to get my groove.  Now that I have a complete work, all the edits are far more richer, far more revealing, far more coherent – and much of my best edits were made when it was done and I could see the whole thing.

When I write fiction in the future, I think I need to accept that my initial effort is basically going to be like a piece of alpha software.  Good planning and thought can make it a very good alpha, but my focus should be to get it done so I have enough to work from.  Many things in fiction writing only become apparent once you have the whole picture.

Again, I don’t think this means you can’t put unfinished fiction up for review.  I just think people need to accept the limits of such things – and ask what delivers the most value for them and the audience.

I also find this very satisfying to think of.  I can accept that fiction starts imperfect because of all its factors and charge ahead, admitting it won’t be perfect.  It’s just that when the imperfect version is done, the perfect version follows more easily.

(By the way that title took me forever to come up with so I hope you appreciate the attention to alliteration.)

– Steve

How I Write #4: The Writing

by

(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, www.SeventhSanctum.com, and Steve’s Tumblr)

So lately I’ve been reviewing how I write.  Let’s take a look at where we are:

When I write I usually get a big idea, then I review and record it.  I figure if it’s book worthy if it fits my goals.  Then, I work on an outline (in fact I usually work on that earlier as I’m inspired and want to evaluate the idea).

So how do I write?  I mean I’ve talked about getting up to the point of writing.  So when does it begin and do I actually get stuff done

The above activities set the stage.  I got an idea, I have an outline, I have drive.  All that’s left is basically cut loose.

In short, I kind of vomit onto the page.

Disgusting Metaphors Go!

Actually I’m being a bit facetious.  I have an outline, so it’s not vomiting onto the page, it’s vomiting into a very specific framework that lets the vomit flow into the right form.

I sit down, with my outline, and following the direction it set I start writing.  The Outline provides me enough information to know what to write, and I simply do it.  I rarely take the time to do any editing or revision unless I have to.  My goal is to get from A to B in that outline as best as I’m able, even if it’s kind of crappy, half-assed, or understandable only to me.

(In case you wonder, yes, sometimes I eventually throw things out.  But stick with me – this works)

So what’s the benefit to this?  Quite a bit:

  • * First it’s fast.  I can get  a lot done – and the Outline helps that.
  • * Secondly, it’s visceral.  It’s from the gut, the brain, the feelings, whatever part of me is currently engaged.  It’s near automatic.
  • * Third, it’s disinhibited.  The worst enemy a writer has is often themselves.  I’m too focused to get in my own way doing this.
  • * Fourth, it’s about writing.  My goal is not to do anything but get something done, so I avoid distractions, or hemming and hawing.

Now note that this method doesn’t work as well if you don’t have an Outline.  The Outline gives you a pattern to work with (so you don’t go off the rails) and making it keeps you rethinking your ideas (so they’re more instinctive to write).  Going with no Outline can result in this vomit method getting pretty incoherent.

Pacing Myself

I usually set a pace for me to write – based on the aforementioned Outline – on how much I’ll do within a certain time.  It doesn’t have to be good or coherent, but I cover a certain percent of an outline within a given time.

I usually block out the major tasks of my book in terms of months, and set writing goals by weeks.  This way I have the large outline of the book (done in X months) and specific, actionable goals (get 15% through the Outline in a week).

I need this pacing not just to set goals, but because the outline and the “vomit method” actually mean I can overdo it.  I’ve had huge writing binges of hours where the words are coming out, and after awhile I’m exhausted.  I have trouble remembering writing parts of “Cosplay, Costuming, and Careers” as I was at my desk for hours.  Well I think I was.

You can too easily burn yourself out doing this – and because the goal is to “get it done” you might not realize it’s happening.  A 10% decline in quality when you’re using the vomit method isn’t apparent, and you won’t notice you’re real tired until your quality is much, much worse, or the words just stop.  Setting the goals helps this . . . but you might just go a bit farther.

So I pace myself, but I’ve never found a perfect method.  Mostly it’s a mix of gut,pre-set deadlines, and guesswork.

That may explain a few things.

It’s OK To Change

Now even though I go and just vomit onto the page, I do occasionally revise the Outline itself.

At times (less and less as I go on) you may find that things didn’t quite work out the way you expected.  It’s OK to revise your outline if you realize things need to be restructured.  However I’d do that as a separate task or after taking a nice break from “vomit writing.”

I also have found that in a few cases of writing you have to write in detail to know just what order things should be within your outline.  You may, say, know when events happen in a chapter, but only later discover the order you tell them in may need to be done differently.  Sometimes orders aren’t even apparent until you start writing – which is fine (and has been something I’ve done deliberately because I had to read over a lot of research and it was easier to find a pattern while reviewing it and writing about it).

Moving On

So then I’ve got a book that’s really a fast-written dump of ideas into a reasonably planned outline.  It’s barely a book at all.

Which is why, after I finish up all that writing, it’s time to go editing.  That’s when a book starts to become a book.

  • Steve