We're running a bit late.
Writing fiction is hard. Bringing to life a series of manufactured events with pretend people in a world that only exists in your head—it’s a kind of mental origami that takes years to master.
Just about any beginning writer eventually figures that bit out. And figures out that they need to learn at least some of the basics somewhere. The net seems the perfect place. Doesn’t it? There are any number of web pages, blogs, and forums to read about this sort of stuff.
The problem is, much as I love the net, and much as there are great sites about writing, a writer needs more than that to grow quickly, so that their first stories will suck less and suck for a shorter period of time.
In other words, you’ve got some prep work to do.
Sounds suspiciously like “homework”. Why should I do these things?
Don’t worry. I’m not going to go the creative writing class route and suggest assignments like describing a bowl of fruit or a writing dialogue between a man and a woman walking a dog. I personally am not convinced such assignments help much with story synthesis.
If you’re a writer, none of what I’m going to be advising you to do will be boring. Some of it may be painful, especially towards the end of the list, but it will be neither boring nor useless.
Trust me… I’ve written with and without the prep work. The prep was the difference between starting a story with
The constant rain of the Seattle winter made the air moist and heavy like a wet blanket.
and starting a serial with
Phineas Zene’s landlady had given him the ultimatum that morning, and between being homeless and pawning his cello, he’d rather be dead. …
It was the difference between
Sa ‘Jia watched her teacher, the elegant and mysterious Master Liu-Ho, sketch aerodynamics formulae on the whiteboard with a light and practiced hand.
and
The Third Princess of the Second Imperial Court of Hang-sing shifted restlessly in the afternoon summer heat, sitting in a regal, if uncomfortable, lacquer chair. On her lap rested a small wooden pallet on which lay linen paper, and her pale hand, holding a graphite stick, rested upon it. She watched her tutor, Master Liu-Ho, writing upon the black Western chalkboard. It was bad enough to be using the chalkboard, but that paled in comparison to what the Third Princess had asked Master Liu-Ho to teach her for the last five years. …
And it was the difference between an SF story laden with information dump, and something with nearly none at all.
Mind you, even the improvements are still rank amateur stuff, and they’re pretty awful for all that. I have a long ways to go before I’m publishable. But they are all still markedly better than their predecessors.
I think you can improve rather better than that.
On with the motley.
6 Pieces of Fiction Writing Advice Often Ignored
1. Read books about writing.
Actually, I think a lot of you pass this bar. But there’s a surprising number of people who don’t even bother picking up The Elements of Style and slept through grammar in middle school. And then there are writing books that are fluffy and useless, just like Stephen King says.
But let’s be honest: many of us are not natural storytellers like Stephen King is. Most of us don’t even start out knowing what a story is. This is not a good place to be. I suggest folks get out of there as soon as possible.
And yes, with a book, and not with a site or a blog, or at least not only with a site or blog. Because the good books are coherent, comprehensive, and focused at levels that writing websites, no matter how good, are not.
If you must read a minimum number of books, here are my recommendations.
- Either do a grammar class or read through 50 pages of Strunk and White’s The Elements of Style. I think you want the latter.
-
Dwight Swain’s Techniques of the Selling Writer. One of the few good,
compleat books about storytelling. The table of contents sucks though; have a highlighter handy.
2. Read good books.
Less of you pass this bar, but a good amount of you still do. Good writers are also good readers—because by reading good books and reading good writers, you learn what good writing is. When you read something that thrills you or moves you or makes you want to stalk the author for his autograph, you know there’s gold in them thar hills and you need to know what it is.
That said, if you went through 1. Read books about writing, you will have in hand the basic tools you need to analyze someone’s writing. Otherwise you’re going to have a much harder time learning from reading—although you can still do it.
The pool of good books can include classics you remember from English Lit, but you should also go modern (please, please, please). And if you’re going to write in a genre, explore that genre by reading widely and deeply in it.
This applies even if genre = mainstream for you.
There’s more to mysteries than Sherlock Holmes. There’s more to Sherlock Holmes than the household name. There’s more to fantasies than elves and unicorns, and there’s more to romance than sex, and there’s more to SF than Asimov and Blade Runner.
If you don’t know what “more” is, you can’t develop from it.
3. Read the blogs of mean but qualified people.
You should still read the blogs of nice and qualified people. But you should never shun mean and qualified. And “mean” is rather an unfair word; “pulls no punches” is perhaps better. They’re the ones who’ll tell it to you straight.
You need straight. And you need to be able to take straight, or you’re not going to learn much at all, or be able to deal with agents and editors who will always give it to you straight. There are reasons why Miss Snark is so popular.
I also recommend reading the Clarkesworld posts in Nick Mamatas’ blog. For instance, this gem:
I’d recommend, when you have an idea for a story, thinking about it in the following way: “Okay. I have this idea. Now what can I do to entirely turn it inside out and write it backwards, so that it can become something new.” Take your concepts and fight against them…do the opposite of every urge and impulse you have!
Someone said that this is like telling people to channel George Costanza.
It’s not. It’s like telling people that the speed of light is a constant. It’s a basic principle of storytelling—one so basic that it’s rarely mentioned in any list of rules.
This exercise of reading “mean folks” is more than just about learning (though it is in large part that). It’s about learning not to take things personally, and to get used to the snark.
Because, you know, the snark speaks truth. Otherwise it wouldn’t be snark, it would just be stupid.
4. Rip apart and analyze a story or novel.
I don’t just mean read it and take notes. Or read it and write a review or an essay about it. Or even to take a lit class that covers it in detail.
I’m talking about taking things down to the nitty-gritty. I’m talking about retyping a story or a chapter or even an entire book. That technique, more than anything else, will force you to step through the story and think about what went into it.
And what you learn will be very personal to you, because this isn’t stuff you learned latently by reading someone else’s words. This is stuff you figured out on your own—and you get more involved than you did in 2. Read good books.
Currently I’m doing that with The Speckled Band, in case you want to see what happens to your head while you’re retyping and thinking. The experience is intense, to the point where I need to take a week break between simultaneously retyping and writing down everything that comes to my head.
(You’ll have an easier time of it, of course, since you won’t be writing down your experiences for an audience.)
5. Find some way to read a slush pile or equivalent.
For those who don’t know what a slush pile is: words fail me.
Now, it’s probably not going to be easy to find a real slush pile to read, although if you get a chance to, you should leap for it. I just happened to be lucky. Perhaps you will be lucky, too.
Attach the phrase, “in a manner of speaking”.
Because the slush pile is undoubtedly the worst of this list in terms of pain—but also the best of this list in terms of sheer amount of learning. For instance, you will learn—and you will learn well—what types of beginnings make you (and by extension agents, editors, and importantly, readers) want to shoot yourself in the head. And what kind of endings entirely betray you as a reader.
You will learn that there’s a number of manuscripts out there that start out well—and fall apart about 50, 100, 200 pages in. And then know that the beginning is not the end of effort. You will see numerous, nay, fulsomely copious, examples of how things don’t work. This is, in some ways, more valuable than examples of how things do work.
You think you know these things already. Trust me, you don’t until you’ve slushed.
You’ll want to stop after about two hours. Keep going. A week or two is good.
6. No one else can tell you how to write.
This isn’t meant to be some empowering statement encouraging you to rebel against good judgement.
This is meant to be a warning that there is no magic fairy dust, no tried-and-true recipe, no ancient and compleat formulae for the writing process as it applies to you.
And by writing process, I don’t mean storytelling or grammar or any such manner of thing. I’m talking about how you write—do you need to outline? Do you just go forwards and write? Can you juggle multiple projects at once, and how many? Mornings or nights? Goal-orientated (X words per night) or task-orientated (Jenny and Brad must be chased by werewolves to Hrothgar Point tonight)? Do you start with a character, a situation, or an idea?
Even the question of where you write best applies. (I write best in bed. For instance.)
Unfortunately, there are no divining mechanisms that can take your answers to some quiz and tell you what writing process fits you well. And there are no methods passed down through generations of high Tibetan lamas that can rewire your brain to work the way your favorite author works.
You’re left with trying everything and picking up the pieces after the ones that don’t work explode. Experiment and repeat; you’re developing the writing theory of you, not the writing theory of Neil Gaiman, or Warren Ellis, or Heinlein. You probably shouldn’t try to pigeonhole yourself one way or another until you’ve tried both (or all six).
For me, this was the hardest lesson to learn.
Because, once upon a time, I wanted the easy way out too.
17 Comments
Good post, and I’m happy to say that I’ve managed to not ignore the six things you posted. Do I get a cookie? (preferable chocolate chip, but I’ll take oatmeal in a pinch)
Colby, yup. Num: http://flickr.com/photos/basheertome/2126251562/
Very good tips. Thanks for posting. What happens when writing is just a hobby for me? and not enough time to learn all about the intricacies of writing? But I love to write and your post is a good read, Keep posting.
Hi there. Just to say that in my browser (IE7) your far right column has vanished :(
HI Jena,
Writing’s just a hobby for me, too. I make no money from it, although I’m planning to (when I’m publishable) submit around and abouts—it’ll remain hobby money for taxes. Plenty of writers, even published ones, hold down a day job at the same time, because writing does not bring in cash, usually, unless you’ve been doing it a while or do a lot of non-fiction on the side.
It’s a matter of making the time. For instance, reading a book is not a big deal. If it is a big deal, writing is not going to go well for you. Analyzing a short story—pick one maybe 4000 words; The Specked Band is a hair under 10,000—will help you quite a bit. I suggest visiting Clarkesworld for your stories to digest.
Yes, you may have to cut out some writing time, and some other time—I watch no television that I don’t get a hand of via DVD, because it just wastes time otherwise. But if you want to write well, then you have to sacrifice time to learning to write well.
You’ll also have to sacrifice time to writing a lot, later on. And sacrifice time to critiques. Etc. No one ever said writing was easy who knew what they were doing.
Or you could choose not do these things. You can ignore these “rules”. It’s not right or wrong to; but you’ll pay one way or another. But if you just like to write stuff that makes you happy, who’s to say what you can or can’t do?
Though I do suggest trying to make the time before concluding that reading a few books is too much to do, or taking the time to digest one story.
veinglory, thanks. Curses, IE7!
If you have time, can you check if the second column has simply floated down to the bottom of the page somewhere? If so, I can fix it fairly easily. If not, it’ll take a bit more effort. :)
Thanks for telling me!
Thanks for the reminders. I wandered into fiction writing through a newsletter for my psychology practice, a newspaper column and some fun with short stories. I finally ventured into novel writing and passed through some if not all of the rites of passage you mention. I think I may have some remedial work to do to make sure I didn’t miss something. Being organized is not one of my chief skills. I appreciate your putting these suggestions in a row for me.
Joe Langen,
Author- The Pastor’s Inferno
Yes, Arachne, the way you presented it, I can’t help but agree. It’s just that I’m so “lazy” to do these things( summarize a book or critique it) but. I do read. I usually read 2-3 books in a month.
Don’t writers have “writing freedom”? - similar to the “academic freedom” in schools? Write anyway you want ? I once read a very “unconventional” pocketbook (grammar not standard), but I enjoyed it .
Like in grammar class, they say that don’t start a sentence with the “And” word,…but when I write, I want to start a few of mine with “And” .
Anyway, thanks so much for the detailed answer. I appreciate it a lot. If I want to do writing perfectly, then I have to undergo the pains.
Thanks too for the ad.
Oh, I inadvertently posted two comments, kindly delete the first one. Thanks.
Hi, have just discovered your blog through ECard, and wanted to say I like it, I’m not a writer, but I do enjoy writing for my blog.
Keep up the great work
Hi Jena,
No one’s ever going to be a perfect writer. :) Keep that in mind. But we can all improve.
And yes, writers of fiction, and even of non-fiction, do sometimes play loose with grammar—but most of the time, they do follow the rules. Because you still want people to be able to read your stuff and, more to the point, you want the act of reading to be so smooth that they pay attention to the important things—like story and style, as opposed to “why the hell did this insane person not use periods, commas, or heck with it, paragraphs?”.
(Also, not following grammar can lead you to not writing what you mean. See Eats, Shoots and Leaves.)
“Writing freedom”—yes, there’s writing freedom. But there’s also connecting to the audience. Most writers want to tell a story to someone, or want to communicate something to somebody else; writing incoherently usually doesn’t work to that end.
(Note: there’s a difference between writing incoherently because a writer doesn’t know better, versus oddities like legit stream of consciousness stuff—often pulled off because a writer does know better, and thus knows how much to bend the rules without them completely breaking into utter lack of coherency.)
If you want to neither tell a story to someone else, nor communicate someone else—if someone else plays no part in your equation at all, then these rules hold less meaning for you. Being coherent may not mean anything at all.
But it does mean that your writing will not be pleasing for others to read, or to derive meaning from.
Most writers are communicators at heart.
That’s why writing is hard.
Hi Joe — thanks for stopping by! I’m glad you find these suggestions useful.
I admit that I partly wrote this article for myself as well—to remind myself of certain things. Especially (at this point in my writing) #6.
Anca, glad you found me. :) And thanks for the kind words!
Of the things that were brought along with the dawn of the new century, I like blogging most of all. Because writing is something that people should experience somehow, whether it’s blogging or whatever. I think it’s exciting. A little scary at times, but still exciting.
If you write, you’re a writer. Period. Don’t let anyone tell you different.
Yes, You have a good point there. Real writers want their message to reach the intended recipient. Most often for me, I just write to “de stress”, like to unload some stuff in my brain or I will go nuts. lol… and if someone find my thoughts worth reading, then , that would be good. But I write really for myself…(Isn’t that a bit selfish?) .
Anyway, I will have to follow your advice if I want to write a novel.
In regards to #2, reading good books is a good exercise when you know what to look for. But one thing I discovered from writing and my photography experience, reading bad books is much better.
The reason I say this is that sometimes I still get carried away by good writing that I forget to pay attention to the techniques and styles.
It is much more productive to take what you know about writing and then see how you can improve a bad book. If you don’t know how to improve on a bad book, then how can you learn from reading something so well polished that your writing skills can’t even make head or tails of it.
It’s like learning to be a wine connoisseur when you think all wines taste the same.
Hi Don!
Reading bad books or going through a slushpile as in point 5—either is good. For me, the slushpile was better. The examples are so much worse. :)
But at the same time, you need to read the good as well. And pick out what doesn’t work, even in the best of books.
And read all kinds of good. There’s no such thing as all wines tasting the same when you read a wide variety—which is why a lit class is usually valuable. A wide range of styles is usually covered.
Perhaps you can’t tell exactly what is right. But you can tell when it works—and you can, especially with point 1, pick out why. I don’t buy the “it’s so shiny I can’t parse it!” idea, because if you actually deconstruct something in detail (point 4) every glaring thing, good or bad, comes out.
Basically, you could read only dung. And then write dung. I’ve seen it happen in some of the lower pits of fanfic hell. You don’t want to go there.
Just dropping by… and reading new posts..Happy blogging.
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