by Mary Sutton / @mary_sutton73
There seems to be a trend of posts on various blogs this summer. Namely, “how do you write?” posts. Do you outline? Are you a pantser (just write the story)? Somewhere in between?
I’ve come to the conclusion that there isn’t really a word for how I write.
Last fall, I tried the outline thing. I wrote a 10-page narrative summary of my plot. From that, I generated a detailed outline of scenes, written on “note cards” in my writing app of choice, Scrivener (if you’ve met me, or seen my life, you know why I can’t use physical 3×5 cards – oy, the mess I’d have later). Then I wrote the book. It was my NaNoWriMo project for the year. I completed it, and I was very proud of myself.
Then I let it simmer for while, as is my wont, and read it over.
It sucked.
Okay, that’s too strong. It felt flat. Lifeless. On to round two. I added scenes, beefed up others. The word count ballooned from 75,000 to 107,000 (way too long, but hey, second revision, I wasn’t going to censor myself).
That was better, but there was still a spark missing. Hmm. These are characters I loved (my Laurel Highlands cast). I liked the core story. I was missing – something. I didn’t know what.
Then I got a phone call from the absolutely wonderful Hank Phillippi Ryan. I had sent her something else to read and get her opinion on whether or not it was worth reworking (my failed Black Orchid Novella project – a resounding yes, by the way, but I digress). We got to talking plot. Hank’s not an outliner, and if you read the Jungle Red Writers blog, she is quite upfront about the fact that she usually has no clue “whodunit” before she starts. I said something about twists and how there are only seven plots in literature.
“I’ll go further,” she said, “I think there are only two: a stranger comes to town or someone goes on a journey.”
Two? How am I supposed to work with two? How do I make variations on two?
Two ways, Hank said. The first is voice. That’s all you. Second, whenever you think “and this is what should happen next” ask “but what if it didn’t?”
Light bulbs started to go on. I went back to the novel. Looked for every part where the story went pretty much as a police investigation “should” happen. And asked, “what if it didn’t?” While the technics of the ending stayed the same, “whodunit” changed completely. The story came to life again.
The next change was a supporting character. “Too weak,” readers said. So I went back and made her story more complicated. Again, lots of changes. Richer story.
On another blog, author Wendy Tyson talked about how she doesn’t really plot the first draft. She just writes it – and works out the plot in revision. James Scott Bell recently released a book about “writing from the middle” – you find the story’s “mirror moment” and write out – and back – from that. (Side note: If you haven’t read any of Wendy’s books, you really should.)
That, folks, is me.
It’s like mining a giant block of stone from the quarry. The story is in there somewhere. I just have to chip away until I find it.
Outliners will say this is a very laborious way to write. You may spend lots of time writing stuff that ends on the cutting room floor. But you know what? A good 30% of that story written to an outline ended up on the cutting room floor. Either way, there are cuts. So why shouldn’t I have some fun in the process?
That novel, Every Other Monday is Murder, eventually evened out. It took five revisions, but it’s almost ready for it’s last step on the way to submission. And I like it. Beta readers like it. I hope the independent editor likes it. Yes, it was a labor intensive, outwardly haphazard way to write. It’s taken the better part of a year (and I consider myself a “fast” writer).
But it worked.
I’ve already got 20,000 words and a series of scenes for the next book. I started somewhere in the middle and I’m feeling my way out from there. I will note that this approach is for the crime fiction and I’m much more linear when writing Hero’s Sword. Different type of story, different approach.
So kudos to writers who can plot every detail of a mystery. Me, it seems I’ve got to figure out “whodunit” right along with my characters. But that’s okay.
Because if I’m surprised at the answer, that means the reader should be too.