Wrestling the Sloth

Tomorrow is one month since I temporarily set aside the work in progress to re-evaluate the plot. Since then, I solved the problems that held me up (more remain, but they’ll be surmountable in context), gained a firmer grasp of my characters (thanks to some excellent advice on Robert Gregory Browne’s writing blog, specifically here), written a flash piece for Patti Abbott’s current challenge, watched a lot of playoff hockey, gone to several events leading up to my daughter’s impending high school graduation (congratulations, Bink), watched some baseball, spent a weekend in North Carolina, bought new windows for the house, and written a grand total of 1500 words.

Considering I like to write 500-1,000 words a day when drafting, 1500 isn’t much for a month. Usually pretty good about getting my ass in the seat, I have manufactured—er, I mean discovered—excuses—er, I mean reasons—to evade writing on all but a small handful of days.

I’m not sure why this is. I’ve been busy in the past and managed to compartmentalize everything so it didn’t interfere too much with writing time. It could be due to my continued ambivalence toward this project. It’s a good idea, and I think it has potential to be a good story. Of course, I thought all my previous efforts were good, too, and publishers have lined up in droves not to buy any of them.

I can also see where this book has potential to suck if it’s not done right. I don’t remember thinking this about the others. One maybe, and I’m still not sure about that one. This WIP is somewhat of a departure for me, as I’ll spend more time away from the actual primary plot than usual, developing a subplot or two, creating a more detailed fictional world, and going into more depth with my protagonist’s personal life. I’ve seen all of these things work in the hands of other writers. Unfortunately, they’re all better writers.

I’ll draft a page tonight. And tomorrow. Two each on Saturday and Sunday, Stanley Cup finals or not. By then I should be back in rhythm. As the Beloved Spousal Equivalent says, I’ll eat the elephant one bite at a time. The end result will either suck, or it won’t. If it does, no harm done. I’ll have learned something, even if it’s only not to let my ambition overreach my talent.

I Need a Plan

I tried. I really did. People have told me for years. “Be more of a pantser,” they’d say. “Don’t plot so much. Surprise yourself.”

I knew I couldn’t sit down to write not knowing what would happen that day. Endings of stories often come to me immediately after the beginnings, sometimes right after the premise. Once the ending actually came first. I thought the “headlights” system would be a good compromise: plot only a few chapters ahead. (I call it the “headlights” system in deference to Patricia Highsmith, from whom I stole it. She used to plot that way, and used the analogy of a car’s headlights. You can only ever see a little bit ahead, but follow them and you’ll get all the way to where you’re going.)

I’m 21 chapters into the WIP. Three more are plotted. It’s an unholy mess. The time line is off. One subplot is missing. I’m trying to introduce it after the fact, but this requires going into already drafted chapters to insert information that should have been there in the first place.

I hate writing first drafts. I only get through them by building momentum and letting the narrative take over as I go, so I’m essentially typing up a story that is already fully formed in my head. All that’s left is the manner of telling. The events are already there. Writing without a definite plan of where I’m going is like trying to tie my shoes wearing mittens.

Tonight I’m getting out the index cards and capturing what has happened so far. Tomorrow I’ll start working on what comes next. The general form of the story is in my head, as well as where it has to wind up. I’m going back into my comfort zone.

I wish I could write something longer than a few thousand words without a detailed plan, but it’s time to admit I can’t. Thanks to everyone who encouraged me to give it a try. I can see why you enjoy it. I can even see how some stories probably should be written that way.

Just not by me.

The Underpants Gnomes

South Park once did a wonderful story about Underpants Gnomes. Tweak, the boys' new friend, was constantly wired on caffeine from the coffee his coffee shop-owning parents kept pumping into him. (Yes, they would do that. This is South Park we're talking about. Besides, if you read past the Underpants Gnomes premise, what's the problem with a ten-year-old caffeine addict?) Since Tweak never slept, he was awake to see the Underpants Gnomes march into his bedroom every morning at 3:30 and steal his underpants. Everyone thought he was making it up, until he got Kyle, Stan, Kenny, and fat ass Cartman wired with him one night, and they saw the gnomes themselves.

South Park being South Park, the boys followed the gnomes back to their underground factory, where the master business plan was unveiled.

Step 1. Acquire underpants
Step 2. ???
Step 3. Profits.

When one of the boys asked what Step Two was, the head gnome said they hadn't figured that part out yet. This struck me as hysterically funny, as I was currently working for a business with exactly that plan.

Unfortunately, that's how I plot stories. I get a good idea. Not just an idea I think is good; everyone I mention it to likes it. They immediately ask how it comes out, and I tell them. They like that, too. Then someone always asks how I get from the idea to the conclusion.

Asshole.

That's where I am now with the soon-to-be work in progress. I have the premise, and it's good. The ending needs to be tidied up, but it lays fine, too. The catch is in how I can get the cop to solve the crime without making the story too linear, or going to the opposite extreme and having to depend on divine intervention like a meteor or an earthquake or having the solution come to him in a dream. Letting the threads play out without letting them become so tangled I can't tie them together is the most vexing part of writing for me.

A couple of writers whom I respect recently told me to let it happen. Get to know the characters, find some event to kick off the story, and go wherever they take me. Sounds like a lot of fun. I swear on my stack of Raymond Chandler novels to try it sometime. It's just that nothing is more intimidating to me than sitting in front of a blank computer screen, not knowing what comes next. My first drafts aren't much fun. I enjoy the crafting, the refining, getting the tone and humor just right, adding little things that don't really move the story along as much as they make the story—I hope—worth reading.

So, once again, I'm plotting everything out in relatively detailed fashion. My problem is that my endings usually come to me, unbidden, as part of the premise. The writing of the book is how to get from A to Z. I never know how I'll describe getting from Point C to Point D until the time comes, but at least I'll know where Point D is. Maybe next time I'll try the Patricia Highsmith method, and plot only a few chapters ahead. Then, after that, I'll wing it and let the story comes as it may.

Really. I mean it. I'll try. I'm already getting short of breath just thinking about it.