Writers in the Storm

Okay Orly, you say you're a pantser, and for the first draft, I agree you are. But then you happily flip into complete, committed plotter. All those post-its? Nope, I'd say you're a "hybrid-pantser."

Me, I'm pantser through and through. The idea of an outline, post-it notes on charts, even Laura's famous chapter spreadsheet, all make me want to get in the Athenamobile and drive away. Fast.

So how does my writing process work?

My characters present themselves. There are plenty, riding around in the carousel of my mind. Usually one will step forward and demand her story be told next. I spend some time with her, piecing together backstory, what she really wants–it's never what she tells me up front–and look at the potential for conflicts. Sometimes the hero appears first, or they present themselves together. If they're both interesting in their own right and seem screaming-wrong for each other, I'm interested.

I start running movie scenes through my head, about how they meet, what draws them together, how they see the good, and the bad, in each other, and how they fall in love. If I like the way those scenes come together, I start writing. (Aw, who am I kidding? If by this time I've fallen in love with my hero, I start writing.)

I'm typically a nighttime writer, which works great for my process. When I go to bed, I rerun the pages I just finished and play director, changing little, and big, things to make it better, adding snappier dialogue, modifying staging, bumping up the conflict. Then I just let the movie continue and fall asleep. That preps my brain to work on the plot while I sleep, and usually the next morning I have some revisions and ideas for the next scene or two.

Now, don't get me wrong. When I start writing a new book I know most of the pivotal emotional difficulties–er, blow-ups, arguments, inner conflicts– and the technology malfunctions and battle scenes (I write science fiction, give me a break!)-but not exactly how and where these plot points and pinch points will take place. I'm sorry, but if I knew how everything was going to play out, it would be boring to sit and type it all out. I love a good puzzle and fitting the plot, the emotions, and the conflicts together make writing exciting for me.

As for the actual, fingers-on-keyboard writing, I typically keep writing until the end of a scene or the end of a chapter, but I usually always know how the next scene will begin. I'm going to be digging my characters out of the hook where I stopped.

When I sit down again, I re-read what I wrote during my last session, add details and emotion and "dress the set." This process gets me back into the story so I'm connected when I begin putting new words on the page. After more chapters I start to think about adding a phrase or a scene in previous chapters to foreshadow or provide backstory. I'll write the idea on a post-it and stick it to the edge of my computer. Yes, by the time I'm ready to start the first whole-book-revision there are post-its all around my monitor, sometimes three deep. They've been in my peripheral vision and thought, and I begin layering in those ideas during the first revision. I'm a coward; I always start with the simplest revisions.

Then I usually end up taking some paper and pencil notes about timelines and chapter major events so I can find where to add my ideas. I have to admit that on more than one occasion I've let blue words flow while looking for half-an-hour or more for a specific scene. Those times I swear I should have kept track on Laura's spreadsheet and I vow to use it on the next book.

I used to hate revising, but on the last book I could see the story getting better and better through the revision process. I think that examining my revision process is actually improving my initial draft. I'm aware that I tend to be all about the facts in the first draft, ("But what is she feeling?" is a common comment) so I'm trying to layer in more emotions on those "morning after" re-writes.

Final revisions are all about evaluating and using comments from critiques and judges.

Before I send a manuscript off, I read it out loud. Yes, all four hundred plus pages. I catch weird sounding dialogue that looked great on the page, echoes, and always a cliche or two that made it past several pairs of eyes.

My process works for me, an untrained-creative-writer hard-science nerd who managed to get my college degrees without ever taking a writing class. Of course, once I began writing, I've taken a lot of classes to learn the tricks behind the magic. But everyone's process is different.

How do you create your magic on the page? What is the strangest component of your process?

About Fae

Fae Rowen discovered the romance genre after years as a science fiction freak.  Writing futuristics and medieval paranormals, she jokes  that she can live anywhere but the present.  As a mathematician, she knows life’s a lot more fun when you get to define your world and its rules.

Punished, oh-no, that’s published as a co-author of a math textbook, she yearns to hear personal stories about finding love from those who read her books, rather than the horrors of algebra lessons gone wrong.  She is grateful for good friends who remind her to do the practical things in life like grocery shop, show up at the airport for a flight and pay bills.

A “hard” scientist who avoided writing classes like the plague, she now enjoys sharing her brain with characters who demand that their stories be told.  Amazing, gifted critique partners keep her on the straight and narrow. Feedback from readers keeps her fingers on the keyboard.

When she’s not hanging out at Writers in the Storm, you can visit Fae at http://faerowen.com  or www.facebook.com/fae.rowen

Shannon Donnelly

Backstory—the background needed to enrich a story—is one of those things that can drive any writer nuts. How much is too much? When do you reveal more? When do you hold back? Too much backstory can sink a story—because you’re not moving the story forward. You’re giving background, and while that can be interesting, readers really want the story to keep moving. Too little backstory and you run the risk that character motivations may not make sense.

There are no right answers about how to handle backstory, but there are some tips to help you find a better balance between stopping the story dead for the background and having so little background that the reader is lost.

Questions to Ask Yourself—

1. Does the reader really need to know this? This is the first thing to ask. Does the reader really need to know the heroine’s puppy was stolen when she was six? Is this just a cool background fact, or is it a vital plot point? (As in the puppy comes back in the next chapter and he’s magical now.) This is a tough question to answer because you usually want to think, “Of course the reader has to know this.” Be brutally honest with yourself—do you just want to put this information in because a) you think you need it or b) you think it’s cool or c) you read another book that had this kind of background. Don’t let yourself be tricked by either bad structure in another book or the ability another writer has to make backstory work brilliantly. And when in doubt save the backstory for later.

2. Does the reader really need to know this now? The now is an important part of backstory. Sometimes you need to set the scene or the world for the reader. This is very important when dealing with history or alternate realties. The reader may need to know how magic works in your fictional world. Or the reader may need to know the importance of manners in another age. These may be vital to making the very premise of your story work—and so the reader needs that information right away. But…be careful with this. You may again overload the front of the book with too much. Again, when in doubt save the backstory for later.

3. Can you weave in the backstory with a just sentence or two? Careful editing is your friends. Go ahead and write those three pages of backstory. Go wild with it. Have fun. Then cut it out and save it and use just a sentence here or there. Think of backstory as colorful threads that you want to gleam here and there—too much color in one spot will blind, but a thread showing on this page and another on the next gives dimension to the story. And again…save those big chunks for backstory for later.

4. How long can you leave the reader waiting? This is a great device that requires foreshadowing. If you HINT at your protagonist having some history or issues from the past, the reader is going to start wanting to know more. Drop enough hints, set the trail with enough mystery, and the reader will then wade through any amount of backstory because now the reader is dying to know more. A backstory dump won’t work if the reader isn’t first set up to want this—in other words, if you just put in the backstory without any foreshadowing, the reader is going to wonder if the story was somehow derailed. The good news is you can weave this stuff in after your first draft is done.

5. Can you add the backstory with something else going on? Readers want conflict—they want the story to keep moving forward. Look at some of your backstory and see if you can have it come out at the worst time possible for your character. Instead of finding out in chapter one that your hero hates heights, have him find out in chapter ten when he’s standing on the edge of a cliff and it’s jump or die. If your heroine has some issues with her mother, maybe they can come out every time the two of them are on the phone and the sniping starts over long dead family issues that neither of them can resolve. Look to add dimension to every scene—every bit of conflict—by bringing in the character’s past to that scene. These again are places for those colorful threads of backstory. The caution here is don’t overdo this…and do foreshadow with hints (and hints means hints—trust your readers and do not beat them over the head with the same information over and over again because you worry ‘they might not get it’).

6. Is less more, or is more more? When you’re in the middle of any story and writing madly away it’s very easy to lose all perspective. Get the book—the story—done. Set it aside for a couple of weeks. Then come back with fresh eyes. Now you’ll be able to look at it to see if you need to add a touch more backstory—or if you need to cut back on the backstory. Is the scene dragging—pull out some of that backstory. Is the scene a little confusing—ah, time to add a touch more backstory.

7. Can you use dialogue to add backstory? This can be a great device—or a deadly one. Sometimes you need characters to add to the backstory—but this must be done in character and true to the character’s voice. The last thing you want is a character talking in plot exposition—that’s deadly. Nothing flattens dialogue more than making it all about exposition—either with backstory to setup the plot or backstory to provide motivation. So…make it about more. Layer in emotion to that dialogue. If you have two sisters who are arguing about something that happened between them ten years ago, let them use the kind of shorthand siblings would use—in other words, Theresa wouldn’t tell her sister, “Remember when you stole my beau from me and asked him to the dance.” That’s too “on the nose.” It’s using dialogue to add backstory but in such a way that the reader can’t believe it. So you change it up. Maybe Theresa says, “I remember what happened at the last dance—do you think I’m going to ever let you forget what you did!” Now the reader is also wondering what happened and wants to hear more—and the characters can get into it between each other with a slow reveal of the story (and a lot of tearing at each other). But here’s another place to go back to the earlier questions of does the reader really need this information—and does the reader need this now?

Above all, when in doubt save the backstory for later. You may find yourself pushing it off and pushing it off and pushing it right out of the story. It’s quite possible you may need to write three chapters of backstory because you (as the author) needed to write those scenes and know that information. It’s nothing the reader needs—and should be cut because it stops the story from starting (or slows it way, way down).

And if you really can’t decide about the backstory, find a couple of readers who can read a solid draft of the book and tell you places where the story slowed down too much—or where it was confusing. Those are the places to cut or to add backstory. And remember…backstory is when the story is now going back, not forward. Treat it as such and keep your stories moving forward as much as you can!

About Shannon
Shannon Donnelly’s writing has won numerous awards, including a RITA nomination for Best Regency, the Grand Prize in the "Minute Maid Sensational Romance Writer" contest, judged by Nora Roberts, RWA's Golden Heart, and others. Her writing has repeatedly earned 4½ Star Top Pick reviews from Romantic Times magazine, as well as praise from Booklist and other reviewers, who note: "simply superb"..."wonderfully uplifting"....and "beautifully written." She is also the author of the Mackenzie Solomon, Demon/Warders Urban Fantasy series, Burn Baby Burn and Riding in on a Burning Tire. She is currently working on her next Regency romance, Lady Chance.

If you’ve been a reader of WITS for some time, you’ve seen us joke about process envy on a number of occasions. What is it about writers that makes us so convinced someone else has the secret ingredient to the guaranteed-best-seller process?

Laura and I were brainstorming a couple of weeks ago and I mentioned how excited I was to be in the revision stage of the manuscript. I believe she said something along the lines of—and I’m paraphrasing here to protect innocent ears—“you’re crazy.” Anywhoo, that discussion turned into a process comparison between the 4 WITS bloggers and, voila, the "Process Throwdown" was born.

I’ll start.  :-)

A Pantser with Suspenders
I start with an idea. It could be a title, a first line, an object—something, anything that starts the creative pin-balling of ideas. For a few weeks the idea will bounce around in my head, I’ll mull and noodle and mull some more.

Then I start jotting down notes. Each project has a notebook of its own. I’ll write down character names and flush out character sketches; location ideas from city or state to what a room may look like; research notes; prop ideas (a teal 1957 Chevy pick-up for the current WIP, for example); phrases that inspired me from whatever novel I’m reading at the time; and, of course, plot ideas.

Somewhere in here I create a new word document for the manuscript. A shiny, white document (well, shiny and white in theory—my laptop screen is pretty spotty and smudged) that will become the first draft.

And I write.

I’d love to say I don’t look back once I’ve started, but truthfully, I’ll redo my first chapter two or three (okay, okay, four) times. But past that, I plow through the first draft. Plotting goes only as far as the next two chapters and usually happens on the treadmill or stationary bike (I had to dictate a note to myself once after a particularly exciting a-ha moment and then could barely make out what I was talking about from all the huffing and puffing, but that’s a story for another time).

Critiques on that first draft are filed until I’m done writing. That doesn’t mean I don’t glance through them to see if there are any major red flags, but I don’t stop to incorporate the changes. If I come across a plot problem or character defect, I’ll adjust moving forward and jot a note to fix accordingly in the earlier portions. But no looking back.

Now that I’ve pantsed my way through a first draft, I snap on the suspenders and … are you ready? … plot. [Note: There’s another post on plotting for pantsers here.]

Once the first draft is done, I do a beta read and take notes—no editing, just notes. Then I read a second time and write out the main points of each scene on color-coded index cards. Why color-coded? Glad you asked. One color for each of the different plot points. Those cards then go up on my wall where I can see the flow of the book and what’s missing. This is when I review all the critiques and feedback I’ve received and make additional notes on what areas need strengthening.

This is actually my favorite part. It’s a puzzle and I love puzzles!

And yes, I know … if I love this part, why don’t I plot before I start and skip the whole messy, why-the-hell-did-I-ever-go-down-this-hole first draft? Because that first messy draft is like standing and staring into the fridge or pantry and pulling out odd bits with only a vague idea what you’ll make with them. Then comes the magic—putting the ingredients together (plot points), adding the seasoning (layering details), and stir (revise, revise, revise) until perfect.

I’ve come to enjoy my process. Sure, there are times I wish I had a GPS to navigate through that first dark draft. But I love the adventure of wandering off on different trails and seeing where they lead.

Are you happy with your process or do you suffer from process envy?

About Orly

After years of pushing the creativity boundary in corporate communications, Orly decided it was time for a new challenge. Three women’s fiction manuscripts later (plus a handful of picture books), it’s safe to say she’s found her creative outlet. When she’s not talking to her imaginary friends, she’s reading or at least trying to ignore everyone around her long enough to finish “just one more paragraph.” Orly is the founding president of the Women’s Fiction Writers Association.

You can find her on Twitter at @OrlyKonigLopez or on her website, www.orlykoniglopez.com.