Zette's Take: The Art of Moving Ahead

Let's talk about moving ahead in a plot when you seem to be stuck. This is part of the material in my 2 Year Novel Course (now on hiatus). You will see references to the 2YN course in it, but ignore those and see if anything else helps you. I might post a couple more parts to this this week.

I hope it might help some of you.

Getting Unstuck, Part 1

What to do when it doesn't work

If you have reached a point with your story where you want to scream, tear up and erase everything remotely related to it and never write again, then the next three classes are for you. The rest of you can go merrily along in your novel creation, and worry about these next three if you hit a problem spot like I describe here.

If you are having trouble though, realize you are not alone. At some point every writer will hit that wall. For some people, it translates into Writer's Block, stopping work on every other project as well. It may not be possible to figure out which bit of writing is the culprit, because getting blocked on one story can freeze up the entire creative conduit. For others, it might result in a bad mood and a general dislike of writing, and a voluntary break from the work -- but in the end, the result is the same.

There are a number of factors which might have brought you to this stage. I'll go over some of them, but there can be personal reasons and no one but you can find those answers. It may be in the nature of the story you are telling -- either not interested enough or far too personal are two likely culprits. Sometimes recognizing the problem can be the best step to getting past it.

If you reach the point where you think you hate everything about your 2YN project, there are some things to consider which might help you move on as we prepare for year two. First is the realization that at some point you have to commit to doing the work, and not only apply yourself to the fun parts, but also determine to work through the difficult parts as well. Every novel has points where the story stops, the path becomes muddy -- even with a great outline -- and it's hard to decide which way to go, or how to get to the next important step.

The first thing to do is take a step back from the story and remember this is a single story, and work or fail, it will not be what makes your career. At the absolute worst, you'll realize this story is not the one for you. The chances are you will still have learned a few things about how to approach a novel which can help you in the future.

But let's suppose you aren't going to abandon the novel. You've only hit a bad spot, and there may be a way to get past it.

Problem 1: Trying too hard

2YN is a huge undertaking. For some, it is a first attempt at a complete, original novel. You may feel it lacks perfection, and you don't have a reason to go on. You can't make this work into the story you want to tell.

No story will ever be perfect. You cannot possibly recreate the vision in your head just by using written words. Accept this truth from the start, and then do your best to work within the parameters of the art.

Your 2YN story is no more or less important than any other novel you'll write. It's a learning experience, as all novels are. If you give up, rather than finish and fix the problems, you are not going to learn some of the things you need to.

Get the story written down. This is your most important job at this point. Don't worry about whom you are going to please. This is the first draft.

Problem 2: The time factor

In November, many people take part in NaNoWriMosm -- National Novel Writing Month, the hardest single event for writers (www.NaNoWrimo.org). A novel in a week or even the three day novel writing events are not as difficult because it's easier to keep your attention focused on intense writing for a short time. The actual word count is less important than the amount of work the person puts into it. Some people write faster than others, but someone writing 200 words an hour can be working just as hard at it as someone writing 1000. NaNo, even if the word count is about the same for the shorter events, is sometimes far more difficult for people to maintain.

This may be the problem you are facing with 2YN. It might not be the actual work itself, but rather the time it has taken to get here. I like to leap into a story as soon as I have a good idea of what I want and need for it. Not being able to do so with this class meant I had to find other projects to work on as well. And this, in turn took me farther from the initial rush of excitement that comes as a story idea emerges from the morass of possibilities.

There is something else to consider at this point. Sometimes when you get into professional levels of writing, what you write and when you write is no longer completely in your control. Publishers will expect you to write material to their timelines and often with their input on what you can create. Prepare to work under those conditions by not allowing yourself to be stopped now.

What can you do now to get moving again?

Go back over all the preparation work for the novel. Tweak it; play with the characters, re-examine the themes and read anything you may have already written. Do so with the intention of finding the spark that started you on the path to writing this story.

Don't worry about pleasing anyone but yourself. At this phase all you have to do is tell a story you enjoy.


And beforeI forget, I should mention that all three of the Silky books are now available at Smashwords for $1.99 each. These are YA fantasy, about which author Holly Lisle wrote:

"Exciting, complex and richly textured, with a world you'll believe and a protagonist you have to cheer for -- Silky is wonderful." Holly Lisle (Quote from original 1998 Embiid Publishing release of book 1)

Don't Rush

(I will be playing with the settings for this blog for a while. Just so you know.)


Some people write faster than others. This is just the way they work, and there is nothing either better or worse about it. There's the first truth authors need to realize because when you start judging a writer's ability by the speed at which they create, you are looking in the entirely wrong place. Only the story itself can be used as a judgment of worth -- and then sometimes it comes down to taste as well.

Now let's talk about the difference between writing fast and rushing through a story to publish it.

I almost always write fast first drafts. The important words are First Draft just in case you missed them. For me, the story unfolds and I move with the flow, sometimes caught up so much that I hate to step away. The first drafts are often sparse of description and may have a few illogical leaps I will work out later. I make notes in the manuscript as I write and keep going. It's far too easy to say 'I need to fix this stupid little problem now' and get stuck and never move on. I've found the answer to the problem often comes as I keep writing, because I now have a feel for where I want to go, and I can see what I need in the earlier spot to turn the story on the proper path.

But this still has nothing to do with rushing. Rushing comes after the first draft.

Whether you are preparing to send your manuscript to an agent or publisher, or you want to self-publish -- now is not the time to rush through the rest of the steps. You need to do more than a quick edit to clean things up. Now is the time to look seriously at your story and fix problems, not just the typos and missing punctuation.

Here's another little truth. No matter how difficult it is to write that first draft, it's still the easy part.

And even if you edit as you work, don't trust that the story is now perfect. You will be terribly embarrassed later. Don't take the chance.

The first thing to do is set the manuscript aside for a while. Go work on something else and get the story out of your head. Unless you have a deadline, there is no reason to rush ahead now. After at least a few days, go back and read it for what it is, not what you think is there. This is a huge part of editing, especially for those new to the work. You might get better at going straight from first draft to edit later, after you begin to recognize some of your problems, but at first it's important to step back.

Sometimes it's easy to fix things like grammar and punctuation; however there may be other problems which you shouldn't ignore. After plot, grammar and punctuation, the flow of the prose is an important place to focus. The best way to find prose problems is to read aloud. You can't trust the voice in your head for this task. When you read aloud, you are going to find yourself stumbling over lines which seemed fine until now. Those are the lines you want to look at and see if they need changing.

Don't give yourself an excuse for this one. No 'I hate the sound of my voice' or anything else as silly. So what? You are only reading to yourself, and you are doing it to be a better writer. Get over it and do the work.

I have found a free program which has helped me with those dreaded overused words which can often go unnoticed. Go here and click on tools and look at the Manuscript Analyzer.

http://www.christophermpark.com/

There is an on-line and download version. I use the download one because I don't want to have to go online every time. And besides, when you rely on something online, it's bound to be down at the time you really, truly need it.

I work through one chapter at a time, and do several rounds for each chapter, checking for each problem word using the 'find' function in Word. The analyzer gives you words like 'the' and 'a' which you can skip. Click on the frequent offender column and check those, too. I also do a quick check of the adverb section, too.

This program is probably going to point out some other words you need to try and cut down in the manuscript. One of the most common overused words for me turned out to be 'it' which I had not noticed until now. I knew 'that' was a problem, but 'it' took me by surprise, especially since the words appears more often than 'that' in many of the chapters.

I can see some of you wincing at the idea of going through each chapter several times. And this brings me back to the point of this little note.

Don't rush.

Don't tell yourself the work will to take too long. Focus, instead, on getting the story right, paragraph by paragraph, no matter how long and how many edits it takes. There is no reason to rush and every reason to slow down and do the best you can.

Every story that you put out will be read by someone who might become a fan. You owe it to that person to take your time and do the writing right. You must make your best impression with every piece you put out. You will grow as a better writer and my earlier stories are not as good as my later ones -- but I never stop thinking I can improve, so this is to be expected.

You can't rush the work and hope for the best, or think the editor or reader will overlook a few mistakes because the story is so good. There are far too many other good stories out there, and you are in competition with them all. Never take the easy way and think something is good enough. Make it the best it can be.

Sample Sunday: A Ride Through Hell and Back

The night brightened as lightning forked across the sky. I flinched, but at least, in the sudden flash of light, I could see the stranger moving ahead of us on the narrow trail. I had feared we'd lost him in the worsening weather. We'd been lucky he came along when the carriage floundered on the road. He showed us the path to higher ground, but even this narrow, hard-packed trail had turned to a mucky morass in the downpour. The road below had likely flooded by now.

My horse protested again and came to a sudden stop. I'd been leading the animal on foot for the last quarter mile, arguing with the animal the entire way. I yanked on the reins, even though I knew it wouldn't help.

"Let him go, Lauren," Janus said, slapping the beast on the haunch and nearly winning a hoof on his foot. "That damn horse is going to get us all killed!"

"You're free to go on without me." I pulled the horse aside so the other two could pass. We'd met a few hours before when we boarded the carriage and I didn't trust them much, even though I didn't actually want to be left behind, either. "I'm not leaving the horse. Once this storm passes, I have no intention of walking to the next town. We're in the middle of nowhere."

"Huh."

The trust was that I didn't dare get caught without transportation -- caught being the important word. I am a professional thief, though I hadn't told my traveling companions about my occupation. They were both larger than me and even the surly carriage driver appeared inclined to mayhem at the slightest provocation. A bag full of jewels, to which I could claim dubious ownership, might be provocation enough.

When the stranger came and helped extricate us from the mud, I had untied my horse from the carriage and brought him along while the driver turned the other two beasts free. Now the recalcitrant animal disagreed with me again, head shaking as he tried to back away.

I pulled at the reins, wishing I knew his name. I had -- well -- acquired him rather quickly this last dawn, right after I finished work in Acklin. I'd ridden all night to Bowith and caught the carriage post there, where people had thought I'd spent the night in a room at the Inn.

I wasn't getting far and if things didn't change, I might be forced to use my less reliable magical skills to get out of this mess. The only good thing about the weather was how the downpour would slow anyone coming after me as well. I just needed to stay ahead of the pursuit.

The farmer reached the top of the hill and stopped. I could see him outlined by frantic lightning rushing across the sky at quick intervals. I decided being at the top of the hill might not be wise, but the others trudged up the hillside. The farmer had said there was shelter nearby, which probably meant the other side of the rise.

I didn't want to be out here alone where robbers preyed on single travelers.

"Come along, you obstinate beast, or I'll leave you here to drown. I only need the blanket, you know."

The horse bared teeth at me: Just my luck to find such a bad tempered animal in a city full of fine steeds. I'd had enough of the creature. A glance showed the others nearly to the top of the hill where the stranger waited. I cursed and grabbed at the saddle, intending to loosen the cinch and pull the blanket free along with the small, leather bag of jewels I'd tied into the cloth. They might think I only wanted to make certain I had something for warmth when we reached wherever the farmer led us. Besides, unsaddling the horse was a kindness I would do even for this brute. I wouldn't turn the horse loose weighed down with something he might on a branch and never get free.

I had my fingers on the cinch when the animal neighed and took a step backward, pulling me down in the mud. Cursing under my breath, I glanced back to see if my companions saw this new embarrassment.

They still scrambled up the hillside where --

Where something other than a man now stood.

I thought what I saw an illusion in the first flash of lighting. I sat unmoving in the mud and stared, making myself not blink. The next flash of light confirmed the last. What stood upon that hilltop had a huge, horned head and massive arms. The next flash made the image twice as horrific, mostly because a second joined the first horrific figure. Then a third. I saw the glint of metal in their hands, and suspected they didn't hold nice farmer's hoes, either.

"Good horse," I whispered, taking hold of the stirrup and preparing to stand. "Damn good horse. You're right. We do not want to go up there."

I pulled myself up from the mud and muck and cautiously made certain I hadn't loosened the cinch after all. Those were Devildins, though I had thought no tribe existed in the kingdom. The sight of the creatures set my hands shaking and I had to fight away old memories..

By the time I got to the saddle, the first of my companions had almost reached the crest of the hill. Though no friends of mine, I couldn't just ride off

"Devildins!" I shouted, despite my better judgment against drawing attention. "On the hilltop!"

I spun the horse and raced for my life back down toward the flooded road. Better to drown rather than to fall to these monsters.

Someone screamed, spooking the horse and me. The mount nearly lost his footing on the slick, muddy trail and I had to grab tighter hold of the pommel. Another scream, but soon the sound of the storm covered whatever happened behind us. I fought the urge to look back. I didn't want to know or to see a scene replayed from my own childhood. I had nightmares enough.

I realized more Devildins stood on the trail between me and the flooded lowlands. They obviously intended to make certain no one got away. The storm had covered all sound of them.

The horse reacted far more quickly than I could have when the first raced forward. With a scream of terror and anger, he rose up, battering the Devildin with his hooves, while I held on. The animal went down with a grunt and the horse trampled the creature as we headed off the trail.

I wasn't as keen on that part since I couldn't see much around us. Horses didn't have exactly the best night sight, either. Soon we passed through a small stand of trees, branches trying to knock me from the saddle. I flattened myself to the horse's rain-slick neck, the hard pommel pressing against my shoulder as I held on. The enemy came after us with their wild, inhuman screams, getting too close, even with the horse rushing pell-mell through the trackless hillside.

A Devildin raced forward and caught my leg, nearly dragging me from the saddle. I kicked it in the face and nearly got free before claws dug into my leg.

I screamed as much in panic as pain. The horse, wise creature, took the sound as a sign that I really wanted to go quickly and he found the swiftest way down the hill.

He leapt straight over a cliff.

For a moment we flew. The Devildin screamed and let go of my leg, and I heard it hit with a dull thump against the stony outcrop. The horse hit the ground and went down on its forelegs with a gasp. We slid in the mud.

I don't know how I held on until the horse rose and stood motionless in the rain. Lightning flashed all around us. I shivered from both cold and pain as I twisted to see behind me.

And wished I hadn't. I could see, in the intermittent flashes of bright light, the Devildins lined atop of the cliff, with even more coming down the hillside at us.

"Run, friend," I whispered to the horse, wrapping the reigns tight around my hand and leaning forward. My leg, at least, didn't seem to bleed much. The boot had stopped the creature from digging the claws in too deeply. "If you have anything left in you, run for your life."

He tried, but he'd injured his right rear leg when we landed. He took several limping steps forward, shuddered to a stop and nearly went down. I had no choice but to do something daring.
 
A Ride through Hell and Back is on sale at Smashwords for $0.99
 
http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/44408

The one Writing Rule not to break

Here's a rule that, unlike other writing-related rules, you must never break:


You must be willing to learn.


And I mean to learn everything you can, not just things specific to writing. Everything you learn gives you a wider range of knowledge to draw on in writing. You know the saying 'Write what you know.' But really, the saying should be 'Write what you can learn.'


And you can learn at least a little about anything you put your mind to. That doesn't mean you are going to become a quantum physicist by reading a few low level books. However, you can learn the basics. Or you can learn how Egyptian's built and furnished their homes. You can find out how Paleolithic people made their stone tools and used them.


I can hear you. "I don't write about quantum theory, Egyptians or Paleolithic people. Why should I want to learn about them?"


Everything you learn makes you a better writer. It gives you a wider field to play in. Don't think of them as individual pieces. I can easily see a story that would talk in all three of those divergent pieces and more. How?


A science fiction story in which a ship, using quantum theory as part of its inner workings, travels to another world. The beings there are humanoid, with a technology on the level with ancient Egypt. Some humans from the ship become stranded there and in order to survive, they must go off by themselves. They must learn to become a hunter-gatherer people, and use stone tools to survive until rescue.


I could write that book. And I would use the Grzmek Animal Life Encyclopedia to help create viable alien creatures. I would use the dozen or so books on Egypt to pick out the pieces that would work, without re-creating Egypt itself. I would use the science books to help build up the basics of the ship. This would not be a hard science book, of course. My interest is not in how, but who. I could see a tale of trying to avoid contact with the native aliens, of misunderstanding, mistrust and fear.


I have seen so many writers lately who say they don't like to read and others who hate research. They have their imagination and they know how to use it.


Imagination needs food, and I don't mean just the latest television or anime you happen upon. If that's all you take in, then you are going to limit what you write. You don't have to give it up, like some people claim, but expand beyond those limited boundaries to places where you choose to go, not where they direct you.


I'll tell you something you might not realize: Learning what you WANT to learn is far more exciting than all the 'learn this, there will be a test' stuff you did in school. You don't have to worry about the grade. Sure, you want to get it 'right' in the book if it's something you are using exactly. If you are writing a historical book about Egypt, you are certain going to want to make certain you know about an ankh, aten, lotus, scarab and uta. However, if you are creating your own world in an Egyptian-like setting, you get to take as much or as little as you like and build on it. This works for science fiction and fantasy.


Sure, you could make up a world without knowing about Egypt and how they lived and built. However, the more you know, the richer your own imaginary world will become. Better still, there are ideas everywhere in nonfiction -- ideas you tap at the source, rather than picking them up second hand from some other story you read. When you start from a nonfiction source, you are far more likely to write something unique, rather than only being inspired by the latest book you loved.


However, that inspiration is important as well. Everything you read, watch and learn melds to make you a better writer. If you cut yourself off from a source of information, you are only hobbling yourself. So don't be afraid to read a history, science or other nonfiction book now and then. If you want to learn something, look for a simple book on the subject and if it still appeals to you, move up from there.


You'll be a richer writer for it.

Sample Sunday: For the Honor of the Hunt

For the Honor of the Hunt

By

Lazette Gifford

Rain pounded the bike's cab as I arrived at the edge of the wildwood refuge. I'd been wise to pull the top over before I left town and forgo the joy of the wind in my hair and bugs in my face. The intensity of the deluge took me by surprise, though, and I almost swept straight past the black and gold Andradora Police Force vehicle sitting at the side of the road. I abruptly braked, cursing when my bike slipped on the wet pavement. Careful, sister, I told myself. Careful. Not even this bounty is worth getting killed over.

But my headlong race from the city seemed to have paid off. I couldn't see another transport in sight, which meant I had arrived ahead of the pack. I would be the first bounty hunter in and I'd only have one competitor, somewhere behind me. Time to move quickly.


I found Milisin leaning against a stout, old bara tree. Her black Force uniform made her nearly invisible until she took one last drag off her cig. She ground the remains into the dirt, and stalked over to my bike, a formidable and unhappy woman.


I pushed open the cab and climbed out. Rain hit my neck with cold icy spikes and I grimaced at the bitter scent of wet bara leaves and dank, rotting vegetation.


"Hey, sister," Milisin said with a slap on my shoulder. I'd expected the blow and had already braced my legs. "Bad night for the bastard to show, eh?"


"Bad night and bad place," I said, tossing my waterproof pack over my left shoulder. I unlocked the rifle case and pulled my weapon out. An older model, but we'd had a long, good relationship together. "I hope he didn't think a little rain would keep him safe."


Milisin grunted agreement as she dug a comp out of her own pack and keyed the screen on, obviously in a hurry to get out of the weather. She leaned forward, shielding the screen as best she could from the falling rain. "Britta NiGwen, do you swear by the Laws of Andradora that you are a licensed Hunter in good standing, and you are fully cognizant of the danger and responsibility with which you now accept this Hunt?"


"I do."


"I, Milisin NiJulia, do entrust you with the hunt for one Pal Delphison, wanted on seventeen counts of murder. A bounty of forty thousand credits shall be paid for the delivery of the quarry, alive, to any Andradora Police Force station or patrol. A consideration of fifteen thousand credits will be paid if the quarry is delivered dead. Do you understand and agree to these terms?"


"I do."


"Then I do grant you leave, and luck, on the Hunt. Please place your palm on the scan for confirmation."


I shook water from my fingers and put my hand over the computer screen, watching the bar shift from red to green as the officials drew the thousand credit fee from my business account for the hunt registration.


"You want the bad news now?" Milisin asked as she snapped the comp closed.


I grimaced. "Let me guess. I'm not the first one in."


"Right," she said. She waved her hand toward the huge, black and gold vehicle. I could see a smaller, battered bike sitting in the mud to the right. Someone had hit hard times. "A loner went in ahead of you. Para's kid."


"Para's kid?" I echoed. She'd been a damn good hunter, before she went crazy and killed herself. "I didn't know she had a daughter."


"She didn't."


I had pulled the rifle to my shoulder and turned to Milisin with shock and disgust. "You've got to be joking. She had a son? And the government licensed him to hunt?"


"All perfectly legal," Milisin said, and then shook her head, scattering more water than a dog in a puddle. "We're part of the Inner Worlds now, you know. Can't discriminate against the males. His name is Teon Parason. He went in about fifteen minutes ago. You're number two -- and at least I can close the site before we get any others applying to go in there."


"How the hell did he get here so fast?"


Milisin shrugged. "Said he'd tracked Delphison to this area, but didn't know where he disappeared until we put the call out."


"Well, damn. I don't need some lunatic male with a gun in there."


"Two of them. Don't forget your quarry."


"Damn crazy men," I said. I double-checked my rifle to make sure I had registered tracer bullets in place. I didn't want any question on who bagged this one. "You have a picture of Para's boy? I don't want to confuse him with the other male."


"You don't? Could save us all kinds of problems in the future," Milisin said. Then she shrugged and pulled the comp up again. "About your height, thin, and long hair. No facial hair, and real pretty, if you know what I mean. Sure didn't get his looks from old Para."


She held the screen out and I glanced at the picture of Teon. No, he didn't take after his gruff, craggy-faced mother. I nodded and Milisin closed the comp yet again.


Pal Delphison, my quarry, stood a head shorter than me with a squat, muscled body, and had a full beard. A shame they weren't more alike. I might reasonably mistake them -- but I wouldn't do so on purpose. I had a reputation to protect, even with a bastard male Hunter in there trying to get my bounty.


"I don't get it," Milisin said. "Men could hold any job except those handling weapons. Do you know there are almost as many males in politics now as women? Hell, my next-door neighbor's husband is an exec, and he makes more than she and I put together. They can have any other job -- we don't need to give them guns besides! Why the hell did the IWC have to come in and screw things up for us?"


"Because we asked them to," I said.

(Coming soon to Smashwords, two story set)