I know, I know, I’ve blogged about this before, but it’s always worth repeating, because we writers are often our own worst enemies.
Sometimes I get so into the groove of writing or revising one of my projects that I just keep going for weeks on end, and let other things fall by the wayside. Which is fine, especially if I really want to make a significant dent in my progress. Thing is, sometimes I do this for a little too long, and I’ll either burn out or I’ll lose track of other important things.
So this past Saturday, instead of doing any writing, we went on a short road trip down the coast to Half Moon Bay for brunch and a little bit of shopping, and followed it up with watching the first two Star Wars prequels. We hadn’t seen The Phantom Menace since it came out, and neither of us had seen Attack of the Clones. [Our post-movie thoughts: TPM had promise but suffered from horrifically bad dialogue and lifeless acting; AotC was miles better and actually quite enjoyable, if overlong and with a few questionable plot choices. We plan on watching Revenge of the Sith sometime this week. Noted, we’re watching these for a panel we’ve devised for BayCon in a few weeks!]
Taking a day off from writing is always a good choice, for multiple reasons. One, every now and again it feels good not to have to worry about hitting a self-imposed deadline or word count. I’m allowed a fun day off now and again, right? Two, this is a perfect time for me to switch from Writer/Editor Brain over to Reader Brain. Time to kick back, enjoy a story. Be moved or inspired by a novel or movie. Three, I get to be social with other people, including my wife. Four, it reminds me that even though I might find the writing process thrilling and immensely enjoyable, there are other things out there that are equally as enjoyable. Like going to the local zoo!
Well, hello to you too!
I think I’ve managed to get the the point in my life where I’m okay if I take a day off now and again. Writer that I am, I’ll most likely still think about whatever I’m working on, but in a passive way, making mental notes for later. It’ll still be there when I get back in a day or so.
I’ve been writing the first complete rough draft of In My Blue World in short daily bursts of around a thousand words on 750words.com over the last month and change, and I’m actually kind of impressed at how far I’ve gotten in such a short time. After writing various disconnected scenes earlier in the year, this is my first start-to-finish attempt. There’s still a lot more to go, new and old scenes inserted, as well as revision, but I’m quite happy with it so far. If I plan this out correctly, I might have a new book to push by the time Worldcon rolls around!
Meanwhile, here’s Take 2 of the opening of the story. Hope you enjoy it!
***
I’d been looking forward to this vacation for months, and now that it was here, it occurred to me that maybe I should have been better prepared for it. I had on the wrong pair of hiking boots and my feet were aching something fierce, and they we had a mile to go before we reached the cabin. I’d also made the mistake of taking the newer backpack, which ended up being slightly bigger than expected, and its corners were digging into my kidneys.
Not that I was going to let all that ruin their time at our grandmother’s cabin, of course. Once we got there, we could kick off their shoes, relax in one of the deep chairs on the open porch, and do absolutely nothing at all. After four months of dealing with online clients and impassive management, it was high time for me to forget about the goings-on in the world. Me and my sisters had planned this trip to the cabin since late last year, and now that time was here, and I wasn’t going to let anything ruin it.
The path loomed ahead of us, a slow but seemingly unending incline heading up the side of the mountain. To one side were the steeper foothills, and to the other was a gentle slope downwards to the large lake in the valley. Even though I should be watching my step and keeping an eye out for any unexpected animals popping out of the brush, I couldn’t help but glance leftwards to the lake. I’d been camping down there as well in the past, spending hours in the water, swimming with her family and friends. We’d be making multiple trips down there in the next few days.
Grandma’s cabin, on the other hand, was equally as fascinating. About halfway up the mountain, the path leveled off at a meadow, with a few wooden cabins lining the edge of it, just inside the tree line. There was always something mysterious up there. Grandma Patricia always kept weird things there, things from her old life as a hunter. She’d taught all three of us girls, showing us how to catch, clean and cook fish and fowl and other things that ran around these deep woods. We knew how to survive in the wilderness for the next few weeks.
That tear in the universe, though…that was definitely unexpected.
“Dianaaaaa…” Katie whined, dramatically dragging my name out. “Are we there yet?” She made a production out of slogging up the final hill towards the meadow, dragging her feet and hanging her head. She hung onto her boyfriend Greg as if he was the last shred of life force left in her. Greg said nothing, but I was sure his eyes were rolling right then.
“Almost,” I said.
“You are so lazy,” Allie laughed, hitching up her backpack and darting up the hill with a renewed burst of energy.
“Stay close!” I called out, but it was no use. When my youngest sister set her mind to it, there was nothing to hold her back. In the process I sped up my pace to catch up. Katie responded with another groan and trudged along. “Allie, how many times do I–”
“Oh, wow…” Allie had suddenly stopped short. “What the heck is that?”
My heart jumped, thinking she’d just found a dead animal, or worse, a sick animal, and sped up to join her. I sidled up next to her and stepped out just a tiny bit ahead, her hand out just in case. “What did you see?”
She pointed in a vague direction of the path ahead. “That! What is that?”
“Where? I don’t know where you’re–”
“That… shiny thing.”
I glanced up the path again, and sure enough, she could see something flashing. Something small but bright. A reflection of sunlight against something, perhaps? Even Katie and Greg had stopped to take a look at this point, and neither was quite sure what they were looking at.
“That’s too bright for a reflection,” Greg said. “Unless it’s a mirror.”
Katie shook her head. “That doesn’t look like a mirror. That–”
Her words were drowned out, as the air as torn in two.
The point of light sputtered and sparked to life, becoming as bright as the sun. I shielded my eyes and swore, blinking away tears and pulling my sisters back. The point of light began to grow; it expanded from a point to a line; a thick line of light, dripping with god knew what kind of plasma energy. And it wasn’t a smooth expansion, either. It was jagged, as if it was hacking away at the air and hitting resistance. Each time it ripped upwards, another growl of thunder filled the air. It expanded until it was human height, and stopped.
The silence was terrifying.
Then the girl stepped through the tear, screaming unrecognizable words in a strange accent. She held a glowing sword in her right hand and a thread of green light in her left palm.
“Ah!” the girl cried. “Krozarr!”
The wisp of light in her left hand burst into a bright green sphere, and she pushed against the tear. Pushed down on it with all her might. She growled more words that we couldn’t understand. The tear responded with just as much resistance, though it was no longer thunder… it sounded like heavy boulders sliding against each other.
Finally, with a final push, she closed the tear she’d just made and all was silent once more. The girl shook the globe of light out of her hand and it dissipated. The tip of her sword dropped to the ground. She stood there, panting from exhaustion.
She turned around, and saw all of us, watching her.
One of my favorite things so far in writing In My Blue World has been creating the rules of magic in this universe. It’s very similar to the process I used when I wrote the trilogy, and it asked the following questions:
What kind of magic do I want my characters to use?
Why would they use it?
What are the limits of its use?
Sounds simple, yes? But the trick here was to remember: every use of magic must have its reason, and it must have its balance. In the trilogy, every time Denni used some kind of psychic force, she had to do it for a reason (usually to protect others), and it had its balancing effect (Saisshalé would respond in kind). This was to show that there was always a price to pay for their actions.
For In My Blue World, I essentially follow the same rules: Zuzannah (aka Zuze) comes from a universe where magic is a natural occurrence and is used in everyday life. What kind of magic do I want her to use? She uses this magic energy equally as a creative and destructive force; one of her abilities is to make ‘a tear in the weave’ of the multiple universes so she can jump between them, but for every tear, she must also ‘reweave’ it. Why would she use it? She uses it to temporarily escape from a stronger foe. She also uses it to return and face him once more, when she is more prepared. What are the limits of its use for her? Weave-tearing is an extremely rare ability and uses up a hell of a lot of power in the process. She only uses it when absolutely necessary. The level and process of magic she’d used in her initial escape was so high and unfocused that it rendered her unconscious for two days.
Using these rules helps me focus on how the plot should unfold. When she’s in the reality of our other characters, her magic is still there but it works differently. When she returns to her own universe, her original powers return. The other characters are also given the same rules: they are introduced to this magic as well, but with their own costs specific to them.
This is why I say that this kind of worldbuilding is often my favorite part of writing a novel. It’s not just about coming up with neat ideas that I can play around with throughout the novel — though that is a major plus and a hell of a lot of fun — it’s about laying the groundwork for how everything works. It’s a balance in and of itself, and quite often it suggests more of the plot than you initially expect.
No, really, I type fast. I just don’t know what to write at the moment. Honest!
Speaking of calling it, I’m putting an end to my ongoing test of whether or not I can write a novel longhand. It just doesn’t seem to be working out the way I’d like. I’ve tried it with at least three projects over the past couple of years, and if I’ve learned anything, it’s this:
I write longhand much slower than I type.
I haven’t tested my typing speed, but I know it’s at least 70 wpm, if not faster. [This doesn’t include my frequent misspellings; apparently the word “available” is the hardest one for me to type fast. Thanks to my Day Job for pointing that out.] I’ve never written longhand fast, because if I went any quicker it would be illegible shorthand.
I judge the pace of my novels as I write them. When I get into a writing flow, I connect with the pace of the story. I connect with the fast action scenes and the deliberately slow dramatic scenes. I’ve written novels on the PC for almost twenty years now, so I’ve gotten used to this process. And because I write longhand so much slower, I have trouble adjusting to the flow of the story. I’ve attempted this multiple times with a handful of projects, and each time it’s lasted maybe a few months before I give up and restart the whole thing on MS Word.
I’ve been thinking maybe this might be one of the reasons why I’ve been having so much trouble with the Apartment Complex story, and why I’ve been having no trouble at all with In My Blue World. I started noticing it again when restarted Can’t Find My Way Home the other night. I was frustrated and straining trying to write it in my notebook, but as soon as I restarted it on Word, everything started flowing seamlessly.
So. Does this mean I’ll give up longhand? For novel projects, yes. I’m still using it for my personal journal and other mini-projects, but for now, my novel writing will remain on the PC or on the laptop.
I’ve been putting a lot more books in my Did Not Finish pile on GoodReads lately, and to be honest, I’m not feeling too worried about it. It’s not that the books are bad (though there have been a few), it’s more that they’re just not my thing.
I’ve found that for me, one of the most common reasons for not finishing a novel is that trying to get through it is a chore. They’re either far too verbose, far too infodumpy, or just in a really irritating style. There are also the Everything/Everyone Is Horrible novels that I really don’t have time for in my life right now.
When I was a teenager it used to irritate me that I would lose interest in a book. Granted, a good handful of the assigned reading when I was in high school was dry as a bone (George Eliot’s Silas Marner remains one of my least favorite books for its desert-level dryness); others were Written to Make a Point (like William Golding’s Lord of the Flies, which dropped metaphors on you like Acme™ anvils). Both are my least favorite styles of writing. It actually put me off reading for entertainment for quite some time.
Yes, this, coming from a writer, right? This is why I focused more on storytelling in different mediums, like comics, movies and television. It wasn’t until I was in my late 20s that I figured it was time to actually read novels for entertainment again. Once I got back into the swing of it, my personal library expanded exponentially.
Thing is, I found that I was trying to read everything, whether it was enjoyable or not. There were very few books that I wrote off as DNF; I kept a hold of them for years, trying to read them again at a later time.
Nowadays I go by my book ownership rules:
If I just bought it new, it needs to be read within the year.
If I’ve bought it but haven’t started reading it in over a year, I push it to the top of my To Be Read queue. If I don’t think I’ll get to it anytime soon, however, it goes to the donation pile.
If I’ve owned it for ages and enjoyed it in the past but don’t think I’ll be reading it again, it goes in the donation pile.
If I’ve gotten a quarter of the way in and it’s just not doing anything for me, or if it’s more irritating than enjoyable, it’s not worth finishing. [Note: This is not to say I toss books at the slightest irritation. It takes a lot for me to give up on a book, so I give it a serious go before giving up.]
I donate the books to the Friends of the SF Public Library at their book store over in Fort Mason. I’m totally fine with not making any money back, because these end up getting sold at their store or at their Big Honkin’ Book Sale they have a few times a year. I might not have liked the book, but hey, someone else might!
I’ve found that sticking to these four rules works out really well, as it helps me get through my towering To Be Read pile quickly. Time’s too short to force myself through novels that are more of a chore than a joy. Plus it leaves me more time to check out new writers!
As mentioned on Wednesday, the Apartment Complex project (and by extension, the College Campus story, as they’re both in the same universe) have been put on the back burner. Not trunked, just put aside for now. I’ll get back to them sooner or later.
So, what’s the difference between trunking a project and putting it on hiatus? Well, for me, anyway, trunking is when I’ve all but made my peace with it and given up. It can be for any reason, really: loss of interest, failure to find any kind of strong plot, or growing dissatisfaction with the project overall. I’m okay with those outtakes doing little more than just taking up space on the bookshelf next to my desk. Every now and again I’ll think about them, but I won’t do any more writing on it.
But what about putting projects on the back burner? There’s many reasons for that as well. I don’t want to give up on them, not just yet. They still show promise, they just need a hell of a lot more work than I’ve given them. More often than not I put them on hiatus because I’m stuck. I did this with The Balance of Light, and I’ve done it with a few other projects as well. I need to distance myself from the project for a bit so I can get a clearer head. Maybe I’m diving far too deep into the project and I’ve lost direction.
Or worse, maybe it’s that I’ve got some really cool ideas for it, with a lot of nothing in between. That’s the main problem with the AC project.
How does one make this decision, whether to put it aside or to put it away?
I suppose it’s different for every writer. Personally, if every moment feels more like a chore and I’ve lost all excitement about it, chances are I should trunk it. I’ve trunked stories that at one time I really wanted to write, but the spark just isn’t there anymore.
On the other hand, if every moment feels like a chore but I still think the idea is worth working on, I’ll put it aside. I’ve found over the years that these projects fall into one of two columns: either A) I just don’t have the emotional and/or intellectual energy to dedicate to it, or B) The story is far from coherent in my head. The Balance of Light was in column A, while AC is in column B.
If I’m at either point, it’s best for me to back away and get my shit together.
Either way, it’s moved to the ‘Backburner’ subfolder on my PC. I’ll get back to it soon enough. Sometimes it’ll take a few months, sometimes it’ll take years.
It’s 8:21pm on Tuesday the 17th, and I’m officially calling it: The Apartment Complex story is on hiatus. On the back burner. Put aside for a bit.
It’s been three and a half months of thinking I could write the damn thing. I’ll get some really good work done, and it’ll work for about two weeks, and then it’ll crash and burn. Each and every damn time.
It’s not that it’s a story I can’t write. It’s definitely not that I don’t enjoy the story.
It’s that it’s not yet ready to be written. There are still far too many gaping holes in it. I don’t quite know what it needs, and just throwing more words at it isn’t helping. Nor is trying to restart it again and again. And trying to make myself believe it’s just a rough patch definitely isn’t helping.
I’ve decided, it’s time to call it. It’s at the point where I’m just wasting my time now.
So. Now what?
As it happens, I’m actually doing just fine with In My Blue World, so I’m going to continue with that as my 750Words project. I’m really enjoying writing that one and I’m having minimal issues with it so far. I’m glad I started that one, because that one’s saving me from feeling the “OH GOD I SUCK” that every writer gets.
Which gives me the evening writing session to do…what project?
Good question. I’ll have to think about that.
At least I’m finally starting to go through my spiral-bound notebooks that have been collecting dust.
On Tuesday evening I finally had a breakthrough with the Apartment Complex story!
Two, to be exact! One, I have a title for it! Though I’m not sharing it just yet… it’s a special word in the conlang of this story that means ‘bonded friend’ and ties in with the main theme of the story. I’m going to play around with it, tweak the spelling and the pronunciation, double-check it with Google Translate to make sure it isn’t a word in another language, and reveal it when it’s ready.
Secondly, on the same evening, I finally sussed out what style the story needs. That had been the main hang-up all this time; I knew I was doing it wrong, but it took me multiple tries to figure out which style was right for it. And ironically, it’s the same style I used in the trilogy — rich in texture, world-building and characterization. It’s definitely an ensemble piece; given the theme, it kind of has to be. SO! Now that I know how to write this damn thing, I can forge ahead!
I have to say, I do love it when I get those breakthrough moments. Getting to that point can be the biggest pain in the ass ever, but once I hit that moment, it’s worth all that hard work.
The other day I was thinking about how my writing influences have changed over the years. My current influences — the works of Makoto Shinkai, the novels of Haruki Murakami, numerous YA authors like Rachel Hartman, Susan Dennard and AM Dellamonica, and genre authors like Yoon Ha Lee, Ann Leckie and Becky Chambers — are quite different from the influences I had about twenty years ago when I was first writing the trilogy.
In addition to that, some of my old influences don’t seem to inspire me all that much anymore. I find that particularly interesting. It’s not to say their works haven’t stood the test of time; it’s more that what amazed me about them doesn’t seem to catch my eye now. I’ve moved on to other styles and stories.
Sometimes I wonder if it’s partly due to the way time moves on. What was breathtaking to me then seems a bit old hat now. It could be caused by oversaturation — after all, Hollywood is certainly known for making a eight hundred different flavors of the same Explodey Action Film, right? Or it could be overindulgence — I stopped reading dark fantasy and cyberpunk a long time ago when it just didn’t excite me anymore.
But there’s always that one thing, the make-you-stop-in-your-tracks book or film that changes the game completely. The Matrix is definitely one good example. Your Name is another one (for me anyway). Becky Chambers’ The Long Way to a Small Angry Planet and Ann Leckie’s Ancillary trilogy are also very good examples.
That seems to be the only constant for me over all these years; the books and films that don’t just blow me away but make me rethink my own writing processes. These are stories that are told, maybe not from a fresh or unique perspective, but are so different from the status quo, that it reminds me: you don’t have to play by the rules, you know. They’re stories, like Your Name, that are so intricately woven with life (yet done so unobtrusively) that I’m emotionally and spiritually moved by the level of detail put into the work.
This constant is what influences my writing the most.
And the amazing thing about all of this is that, maybe five or so years from now, my influences will have evolved even more by something that hasn’t even been written or filmed yet. Something will pop up that will make me rethink the whole game all over again.
Welcome to Bridgetown 