To Write It

"My partner listened quietly, as he always does when I tell him all the details of the things I've seen. He knows I have a need to tell stories. But whenever I say them out loud, there is something missing for me. To really tell a story, I need to write it. It's then that I understand what it is that I'm really trying to say. I find the deeper meaning--and the deeper satisfaction.

The same is true of many others..."

`

Elizabeth Berg, a preface to encouragement

in Escaping Into the Open:

the Art of Writing True

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I am one of those others.

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It's why I write. And why I dream of sharing my writing with others, aim for publication, so that I may understand myself, and thus be truly understood by you.

That Snowflake Method

If you're a novelist, chances are you've heard of The Snowflake Method, Randy Ingermanson's proven suggestion for design and creation of a novel. I'd heard of it myself, but had never done much to check it out. Until over the weekend, anyway, when the new year and writerly goals hung all around me like so much... well, snow.

I have two novels-in-progress now, would you believe? (Would you think me crazy?) There's A Gradual Goodbye, near first-draft completion, that I've shared snatches of here and there. I'd wanted to finish by Christmas, but holiday demands were so full and draining, I couldn't. But I'm close, ready to just push on through.

The newest WIP, tentatively titled Celebration, is the one for which this character wouldn't let me rest. The voice became too loud, too strong, to sate with jotted notes in my notebook, so I swallowed doubt over starting another and cannonballed in. I wrote 9 pages and 2300 words in one afternoon, so I know that was the right thing to have done.

But this leaves me with two projects, see? As if it's not overwhelming enough to have one unfinished manuscript. And with the very real need to complete both stories, with no delay, I knew I had to try something more formal than my standard wing it method. Maybe I could give outlining--even if on some very small level--a try. That's why I began some online research, and it's how I gave The Snowflake Method a real-good looksee.

I haven't committed to the complete method. I relish the creative freedom that comes with flying by the seat of my pants as I write. I fear full outlines and formal formats would hinder me. But as I read down Randy's suggestions, Step 3 highlighted seven very crucial points (follow link and scroll). These are points any writer should work through (and revisit) as they craft a novel. (Randy recommends filing the info for each character, but I've found it incredibly helpful with just my protagonist.)

1) The character's name
2) A one-sentence summary of the character's storyline
3) The character's motivation (what does he/she want abstractly?)
4) The character's goal (what does he/she want concretely?)
5) The character's conflict (what prevents him/her from reaching this goal?)
6) The character's epiphany (what will he/she learn, how will he/she change?
7) A one-paragraph summary of the character's storyline

I think spending some time addressing these key points will help me keep both my protagonists and their stories straight, and ensure I'm headed in the right direction with each. I hope for that, at the very least.


Have you tried The Snowflake Method? Tell me about your level of success.

Do you think the points listed above would be helpful to you?

What about other methods?

Why Now?

It's been months since our paths last crossed. She hasn't so much as acknowledged me, nor I her. Time has passed, life has been lived. I've been busy. Somewhere, somehow, she's been existing just fine on her own. And so I wasn't expecting this contact, so sudden.

I'm not sure what she wants from me.

No, that's a lie. I know exactly what she wants from me. Time. My undivided attention, all my guts and emotion. But I can't give it to her. I don't withhold it to be mean, because I do care. It's just that I have so much going on. Life won't slow down for me, let alone for her. And what, does she want me to drop my family? Forget about my commitments? My kids and their schooling, our home, social and church lives, and I'm trying to write a book, for goodness' sake. Now is not the right time.

You're going to think me so heartless when I tell you her story. She's recently divorced after a long, broken marriage. Ohh, and she feels so much guilt. So little worth. She has nothing, but can't see everything is within her grasp. She needs guidance, support, I admit, and she's chosen me, Lord knows why, to help her through.

Well.

She's going to have to be patient. It's all I ask. Because I already have a novel-in-progress, and she'll just have to wait until that story's finished.

Then I'll write hers.



Why is it new fiction ideas dig in and plant roots when you're in no need of raw material?

Whenever, Wherever

I'd wager to say most (if not all) writers do whatever it takes get a thought written down just as quickly as it's come to them. Agree? It's part of this affliction we have called Writer's Brain.

Yesterday as I showered, exciting ideas and new plot points for my WIP were swirling through my mind. I couldn't wash and rinse fast enough, since I knew I had to get them noted. And so when I was finished, I ran the fifteen feet to my laptop and started clacking away.

Enter my husband.

He found me perched at my desk, wet hair plastered to my head, loose towel draped around my body.

"Tell me you're not writing straight out of the shower."

"Indeed," I said. And I kept going.



Have you ever found yourself writing (or doing what you do) under strange or funny circumstances?

I Promise

This is my mom, Deb.*

`

Notice the gobs of books behind us? This is one shelf of many at my parents' house. She could open a used book store; we tease her about it all the time.

`

My mom is the one from whom I got my love of books. A paperback was never far from her reach, and that kind of thing gets impressed upon a kid. It didn't hurt that she took my sister and me to the library frequently, as soon as we were old enough to appreciate it. I remember lugging home as many books as the library would allow, and relishing every one. The feel of the cool, smooth pages in my small hands. The musty, used smell. I love all of it. I love books.

`

It's also my mom who has encouraged me to write for as long as I can remember. Even as a young student, when I probably didn't attribute much to the idea of "being a writer," she'd pore over things I wrote for classes... There was one essay, Plaid Pants, I wrote about the polyester outfit she "forced" me to wear in the early 80's, when I was 5 years old. Ugh, it was horrible. You could feel my pain in that short blurb. Then, and other times, she said, "Janna, you should be a writer."

`

Somewhere along the way I started to feel the same. I never had an English teacher who took me under her wing, or helped cultivate my talent: It's something I found on my own. But my mom was always there with encouragement, kind of helping me unearth my potential.

`

Then, last year, a childhood friend of hers published a novel based on his boyhood. She was touched by his recounting of the growing up years, set in the area she was raised, during the telling of which my uncle (and Mom's brother), it seemed, filled the fictional role of the main character's buddy. She appreciated her old friend's talent, saw his achievement, the fact that he'd done it; written a book and seen it to publication. And she felt it. I think she understood everything my desire represents.

`

"Promise me, Janna. Promise you'll see your dream happen." And I did.

`

So see? Now I have to do it. I have to keep writing. I have to follow it through. Because I promised her. And because I promised me.

`

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Have you made a promise? To yourself or someone else? If not, I suggest you do. It goes a long way in lighting one's fire, in holding oneself accountable.

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And I wish you the best.

`

*This is one of my favorite pictures, taken just a couple months after her "surprise" double-bypass... She'd gone to the hospital one Friday afternoon, feeling "off" but suspecting what was happening - though she'd always, always been healthy, and by Monday morning she was having open-heart surgery. She was very blessed, and is now heart-healthy.

Last Night

My girls had been tucked in, misterwrites wasn't home yet, and my time was my own. I had a tough choice to make. I wanted to write, because I hadn't had the chance all day. But I also wanted to watch some of my favorite shows (read: the only ones I ever catch on a regular basis).

So I considered my options carefully. Writing needed to take precedence, because I'm determined to make a huge effort with it this month. But man, I really wanted to watch The Office (so ridiculously hilarious!) and ER (sucked me in this season). It's such a massive decision. Will my world slow to a crawl if I miss an episode? Will my mind implode if I don't write the next section of chapter two?

During my gut-turning deliberation, I remembered how my husband always asks why I watch "crap shows." (Just for the record, it's the hour-long dramas he refers to.) This question is usually preceded by my distress over a fictional storyline (or that Law & Order sound: dng dng). He doesn't understand the draw. And, for awhile, I didn't either. But then an episode of ER hit home. The plot was so wrenching, the characters so riveting, that as I blubbered for breath and blew my nose, it dawned on me. It's the emotional ride.

And what's a writer if not one who enjoys an emotional ride?

I like it when shows (movies, what have you) make me feel: Elation over a victorious moment, indignation over circumstance, a tickle down to my funny bone. Just like a good book. And allowing myself that ride opens up possibility, shows me potential. It all comes down to, as I've mentioned before, what goes into our reserve of thoughts and feelings, for our writing. So, in essence, I could treat watching ER as research. Or, I could forego the new episodes, draw on my previously-acquired reserve, and write.

What did I do? What anyone this day and age would do, of course.

I plopped in front of the tv with my laptop on, WIP open. It was the best of both worlds.

Writing: What It's All About

Last week I got some much needed time away from home and its demands. Absorbing my freedom, I headed to the library with my alphasmart Sally, and copped a squat at one of the quiet tables. I succeeded in losing myself to the work in front of me, and completed the two projects I'd been unable to tackle before then.

First was a book review, for Christina Meldrum's Madapple, which I'll be posting here on June 16th, in connection with Blog Stop Book Tours. I can't wait to share those thoughts with you!

I also tackled what will be the latest intallment for my column. I have to polish it a bit, but it's not due until the 20th. Woo hoo! I can't wait to see it in print - it's always such a rush.

Anyway, I can't tell you how my time away to write rejuvenated me. That session served to boost my creative side. My thoughts were flowing and I felt such a relief at being able to express them. There's nothing like it, that feeling of accomplishment when you've written something and written it well.

How does writing make you feel?

Interview With A Novelist

Please, humor me by clicking on this YouTube link. Funny, funny stuff. And so apt for we writers...