by
Scott D. Parker
First things first: I’m not quite finished with the book. I expected it’ll happen this weekend. Likely on Saturday (seeing as how I’m writing this on Friday).
The second Gordon Gardner investigation now stands at 77,400 words and 70 chapters. For the most part, the first 85% of the book played out exactly as I planned it back in October. That enabled me to get this first draft out of my head in an efficient manner. Only at the end, ironically, did things slow down. The main reason is that the little nuances that happened along the way slightly altered how the ending finale took place. The set-up was there, but the variations needed ironing out. So I slowed down. Irritated me, but I kept forward momentum.
By now, this is my ninth manuscript to complete. A few things have emerged that seem to indicate my preferred writing style. (A quick aside: I wrote my first book in 2005-06. I’ve written eight since May 2013. It’s these latter eight I group together.)
Endings Are Fluid - This current book is a case in point. So far, about six of the recent eight books all had endings I didn’t see coming. Only THE PHANTOM AUTOMOBILE and the forthcoming Lillian Saxton novel had endings I saw ahead of time and wrote toward.
I Can Crank Out First Drafts - Having a road map for my books means I can drive the speed limit or faster. I don’t have to worry about what happens next. I know what happens next. Sometimes, new things pop up. I address them and then get back on the road. A book is a whole lot easier to work with when you have it on paper in front of you. Then, you’ve already told yourself the story and you can fix things.
Writing With a Full-Time Job is Doable - Granted, I've learned this my entire fiction writing career since I've yet to have the opportunity to write full-time. But it's still nice to know that I can bring home the bacon and still produce a book.
Writing From a Theme is Interesting - I specifically tried a new technique with this book: write from a character perspective and have a theme I’d like to explore. The next thing about this is that I was able to shape scenes to fit the theme. I think it helped drive home the central idea.
I Suck at Titles - I have no idea what this book will be called. Right now, it’s “Gordon 02.”
I Like the Plan-for-a-Month/Write-for-a-Month pattern. I’ve now down it twice this year and it’s worked very well. It may be my new standard.
That’s about it for now. So, for y’all who did NaNoWriMo, did y’all learn anything about yourself or your writing process?
Showing posts with label evolution of a writer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label evolution of a writer. Show all posts
Saturday, December 5, 2015
Friday, January 10, 2014
Back to the Future...
By Russel D McLean
I've talked about rejection before, I'm sure. But its on my mind as I sit here in my brand new office, having finally completed the move that began in November. I'm in a new city, in a new flat (after living for a month in The Literary Critic's old place, we've now found ourselves a Gothic Monstrosity that really is quite marvelous). I've spent the last few days working on the 5th McNee novel (this is the one that ties up a number of ongoing threads - is it the actual last in the series? Goodness only knows, but it certainly takes some themes that have been dangling over the books and finally lays old ghosts to rest) but I've also been unpacking some final boxes.
One of those boxes contained a lot of old rejection slips.
Someone of them are disheartening. Phrases like, "just not exciting enough" and "show don't tell" pop up frequently, especially in the early part of this millennium. But I clearly learned from them. There are three that say, "Submissions have now closed" or "this imprint will be closing" which shows just what good timing I have when it comes to most things.
But then there are others, like a letter from a respected SF editor who says that he doesn't think I would fit on an SF list but should try to go more literary. He gives me a number of names and then those names, when I find the letters, give me names, too. None of them think I'm quite there yet for their list, but they're all massively enthusiastic. Its intriguing to read, and makes me wonder if I should re-do that old "sf" chestnut someday. In fact, I'm already churning over in my mind what I would do to it, now. And I think the result would be a stronger book, although I have to wonder if its the kind of book I am capable of writing. That's always a worry for me, of course. Can my ambition match my ability?
Certainly it wasn't the case with a manuscript that went out to an editor (oh who am I kidding, it was a script, he was a producer - - and he asked for it based on an outline) that came back ripped to shreds and doodled over with crayon. At the bottom of the script is a handwritten note that reads, "As you can, my kids didn't like it, either". It still makes me go ouch. But I can take comfort from the fact that apparently the guy's a bit of a pariah, now. So there's something.
But what I'm thinking looking through the box is how much I've changed as writer over the year. Every rejection taught me something, made me grow. Every piece of advice - the well meant ones, of course - has stayed with me and guided me on my journey. I was not ready to write at 18, 20, 23. At 24 I got a break but there are still a lot of rejections between then and the publication of The Good Son to remind me that you don't just leap from not published to published, from bad to good. You make mistakes. You refine your approach. You soak up the world around you. You find your voice.
And you don't let it stagnate.
I'd like to think that in another ten years, I'll look back at stuff I'm doing now and see the change from here to then. I'll be proud - I'm still proud of a lot of what I produced back on those days, even if I'd never actually allow it to be published in that state... yes, the people who rejected me were mostly right to do so - of my work, but I'll be able to see how I've evolved and changed.
Hopefully for the better.
I've talked about rejection before, I'm sure. But its on my mind as I sit here in my brand new office, having finally completed the move that began in November. I'm in a new city, in a new flat (after living for a month in The Literary Critic's old place, we've now found ourselves a Gothic Monstrosity that really is quite marvelous). I've spent the last few days working on the 5th McNee novel (this is the one that ties up a number of ongoing threads - is it the actual last in the series? Goodness only knows, but it certainly takes some themes that have been dangling over the books and finally lays old ghosts to rest) but I've also been unpacking some final boxes.
One of those boxes contained a lot of old rejection slips.
Someone of them are disheartening. Phrases like, "just not exciting enough" and "show don't tell" pop up frequently, especially in the early part of this millennium. But I clearly learned from them. There are three that say, "Submissions have now closed" or "this imprint will be closing" which shows just what good timing I have when it comes to most things.
But then there are others, like a letter from a respected SF editor who says that he doesn't think I would fit on an SF list but should try to go more literary. He gives me a number of names and then those names, when I find the letters, give me names, too. None of them think I'm quite there yet for their list, but they're all massively enthusiastic. Its intriguing to read, and makes me wonder if I should re-do that old "sf" chestnut someday. In fact, I'm already churning over in my mind what I would do to it, now. And I think the result would be a stronger book, although I have to wonder if its the kind of book I am capable of writing. That's always a worry for me, of course. Can my ambition match my ability?
Certainly it wasn't the case with a manuscript that went out to an editor (oh who am I kidding, it was a script, he was a producer - - and he asked for it based on an outline) that came back ripped to shreds and doodled over with crayon. At the bottom of the script is a handwritten note that reads, "As you can, my kids didn't like it, either". It still makes me go ouch. But I can take comfort from the fact that apparently the guy's a bit of a pariah, now. So there's something.
But what I'm thinking looking through the box is how much I've changed as writer over the year. Every rejection taught me something, made me grow. Every piece of advice - the well meant ones, of course - has stayed with me and guided me on my journey. I was not ready to write at 18, 20, 23. At 24 I got a break but there are still a lot of rejections between then and the publication of The Good Son to remind me that you don't just leap from not published to published, from bad to good. You make mistakes. You refine your approach. You soak up the world around you. You find your voice.
And you don't let it stagnate.
I'd like to think that in another ten years, I'll look back at stuff I'm doing now and see the change from here to then. I'll be proud - I'm still proud of a lot of what I produced back on those days, even if I'd never actually allow it to be published in that state... yes, the people who rejected me were mostly right to do so - of my work, but I'll be able to see how I've evolved and changed.
Hopefully for the better.
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