aka fiction stages, a summary

A bit of introductions first: I am a writer in a now-obscure fandom (what can I say, I am boring and consistent). I have a perfectionist streak, therefore I take notes on how to be better and even try to follow them. I have been reading fan-fiction since the last century. I have even written a few since the beginning of this one. Let me summarise what I wish I’d known about writing back in the day. Namely: How To Rite Gud (Fanfic or not.)

To write well, first, we need to start somewhere and document the scene and the mood, no matter how brief or unpolished. (Because this is a fandom I know, I'm going to jump straight into an old school controversial tumblr ship as an example. Ready? Set? Go!) (Ohnoes!)

Harry slammed the door angrily. Snape's snide remarks were annoying as usual and oddly arousing. The other man exhaled and realised that he wanted Harry as well.

All right, so. Now we have a starting point. We have conflict. And we have some semblance of character progression. But wait, we're not done (I've read a lot of drafts as 'done', trust me! But how do we go beyond that?)

First things first. At the first pass-through at our rough draft, we will need to choose one protagonist, the one that will learn from the scene the most. Once we do so, we will stick to that point of view. In this case, we are choosing Harry, so that means he cannot see what's on the other side of the door or what is going on in Snape's mind. He can try to guess it or wish for it instead.

Harry slammed the door angrily. Snape's snide remarks were annoying as usual, and oddly arousing. Behind the door he heard a sigh. Perhaps Snape felt the same? That couldn't possibly be true. 

All right then, all fixed! Easy enough. Onward.

The next step is to 'show not tell', in terms of emotion. The aim is to identify and remove every direct mention of how the protagonist is feeling (”angry”, “aroused”). We can show or hint at it instead, or we can project his feelings onto guessing how others feel, but Harry has to be the one doing the guessing or the admitting or the denying. In short, let's play a never-ending game of skirting around how the protagonist truly feels as described in one word, but show or hint at it instead with Harry's actions, urges, or dialogue. We'll leave the reader with the satisfaction of discovering the rest since that is one fun part of reading. Ready?

Harry slammed the door. He thought of kicking it for good measure. Snape's snide remarks were about as welcome as a blast-ended skrewt at a Sunday brunch, but there was something else, an odd and guilty visceral thrill, unimportant and untimely. Behind the door, he heard a sigh. Snape? What were the odds of Snape understanding how Harry felt: wrestling with being a freak? Impossible! No one would understand.

Now then. Better?  A bit. We're still not done.

Afterwards, we're going to expand and put anything that can become dialogue, a sound, or direct thought in that format. (Begone, ‘guilty visceral thrill’!) Harry (in denial as an unreliable narrator) is quite a bit of fun to play around with. This is also a good stage to add detail: where are they during this scene? Let's say the dungeons. Snape's domain. Dramatic enough?

Bang!

Harry slammed the door so hard that the hinges squealed and the potion bottles rattled in the aftermath. Bloody things deserved it too, every single slimy jar and every single beetle. If he kicked the door, would they shatter right in that pompous sod's face? Fuck it! Fuck it all! His ears burned hot, even after the ominous ringing stopped. That lesson plan was fine as it was! Great! Bloody perfect! But like a blast-ended skrewt at a Sunday brunch, Snape just had to leave his mark. It's not like the arsehole was teaching the bloody class, not anymore, Harry was, and Snape had no reason to meddle! So of course Snape was just doing what he did best, lurking about, waiting to rile him up. 

Prick!

He leaned forward against the door and pressed his forehead against the polished oak. The boards felt cool.

Someone sighed, right on the other side of the door.

Wait, what was that? Not Snape, surely, can't be. What were the odds? 

What did Snape know about being a freak? Nothing! Not a thing. No one ever does.

All right, now we're onto something. But we're not done quite yet. Challenge accepted? (Y/Y? Of course!) What we're after now is parsing through the draft with a fine-tooth comb, leaving behind no script of the protagonist 'doing things'. This means: no movie script; it turns into a personal real-time diary instead. (The "I am/he was doing the dishes" becomes "the water is too hot; I have to get a new sponge soon"). We are after the direct stream of consciousness, which means precision and detail, no ambiguity. Dialogue works, direct quotes work, immediate thought, concrete detail in recollection of memories or in current setting, anything! Please be creative with 'accuracy' of dialogue or any turns of phrase if it’s true to the protagonist’s stream of thoughts. Grammar rules be damned. Misconceptions, misunderstandings, and lying to oneself or others, depending on the character, is a fact of life. This is the perfect time to inject that into the narrative.

"- of all the times to act like a child!"

"Wait a second, I am not the immature arsehole here!” You absolute twat!

"Oh? Isn't it past your bedtime, Professor Potter?"

Oh, so be it! I’ll bite. "Fine! So what if it is?"

"Mr Potter, for once in your perfect, predictable --"

What's that, you arse? It was so easy to let go. Simply let go of everything. Of the door as well.

Bang! The door slammed so perfect and so satisfying, right in the middle of Snape's smug tirade that the hinges squealed and the potion bottles rattled in the aftermath. Bloody things deserved it too, every single slimy jar and every single beetle. If he kicked the door, would they shatter right in that pompous sod's face? Fuck it! Fuck it all! His ears burned hot, even after the ominous ringing stopped. His lesson plan was fine as it was! Great! Bloody perfect. But like a blast-ended skrewt at a Sunday brunch, Snape just had to leave his mark by pointing out the missing bits. It's not like the meddling git was teaching the bloody class, not anymore, Harry was, and Snape had no reason to meddle! So of course Snape was just doing what he did best, lurking about, just waiting to stab him in the back and twist the paring knife for good measure. 

Prick!

Pressing his forehead against something, anything, like the polished oak of the door, felt like a necessity, something to stave off the headache. The boards felt cool. Stable. Breathe in, breathe out. Right then.

Wait! What was that?

Someone sighed on the other side.

Not Snape, surely, can't be. What are the odds? 

What did Snape know about being a freak? Nothing! Not a thing. He wouldn't even think twice about tonight, hell, he already forgot about it. Did Snape even care? Was it all for nothing then? Their stumbling, stammering, starlit walk back from Hogsmeade. The Astronomy Tower, that slow twist and turn of the telescope as Snape's fingers hovered over Harry's, just for a second, and withdrew, with a nervous twitch...

Screw this. I'm going home. I quit!

So, we're onto something now. The last task is to tweak a few bits. The 'Sunday brunch' may become an 'afternoon tea party'. Italics-as-direct-thought is still off. The class, a Defense class (since Harry is kicked out of what seems like Snape’s Potions classroom.) The pacing is on the right track, the details intrigue us, the conflict is still there. We are getting somewhere. The emotions, the decision, the character progression in this scene (Do you still think I’m a child? -> I am done with you!) is complete. Whew.

And now you know the process. One scene down, a few more to go! (Onward!)

Honestly, this is how 1K drafts become 100K novels. The winning formula seems to be: one protagonist -> in denial with hints at deeper emotion (no explaining feelings) -> with thoughts and dialogue and bias on glorious display -> stream of consciousness controls everything else and all the surroundings or all action is filtered through it. ("The hinges squeaked and the light within was blinding and warm" instead of "he opened the door".) Needless to say, ease up on the plot twists, since writing this way is about x10 word count of whatever you’re expecting right now.

My daughter gave a presentation to a high school group about her career as a musician / songwriter / producer and got the question.

How do you start writing?

Her answer: I never stop.

Never?

She makes notes on things that catch her attention. Writes them in a journal. Engages with stream of consciousness writing; setting a timer for five minutes and just going for five minutes.

Which raises a question.

The product of stream of consciousness writing can sometimes unearth gems, can evoke content our conscious mind can engage with but never directly create. 

I think.

Definitely it hurts my brain whenever I think too hard about digging for treasure like that in our own minds. Because if it's treasure, if it's in our own minds, why should we have to go digging for it?

Why isn't it just there?

Oof.

Not my favorite question, for sure.

The answer I've come to understand, though, is this is a classic case of accessing.

Accessing?

Yeah. Think of the final scene of Raiders of the Lost Ark where it's revealed that the Ark of the Covenant is being stored in a massive, endless warehouse, tucked underneath a mountain of similarly sized wooden crates. In order to locate the specific crate later, you either have to already know where it is or you need a catalog system to identify its location. And the reason I describe this scene is that sometimes...

Our brains work like that.

Either we know where the treasure is... we know how to locate the treasure... or we don't know where it is at all.

It's lost.

The crate is still where it was placed, of course. What's gone missing is the connection to that memory. To that fantastic idea.

The human brain, thankfully, has more than one way to such access ideas and answers. One way is to directly interrogate our minds. Another way is to not.

Which brings me to diffuse thinking.

Now, I know diffuse thinking works. I rely on it a bunch. It's paid off big time a bunch.

I also kind of know how it works. That is, it's intentionally abandoning concentrated, analytical thinking in favor of relaxed, unfocused thinking that wanders on its own, meandering as it will, making loose associations and connections as the mind wanders. And after all that...

An idea.

An answer.

An un-blocking.

Wait. What? Howwwww????

That's the part I don't know. 

What I do know is that directly focusing on a creative challenge and then engaging in an activity that's a low bandwidth activity like walking or taking a shower or even sitting on the shore of a lake... triggers the process.

It even works if I focus on a particular thing before going to sleep. Often something in my brain puts in an overnight shift that delivers as soon as I wake up in the morning.

Whatever it is that's delivered, though, I've gotta write it down, type it out, record it right away because it has no shelf life. It's kind of there and gone so I have to capture it as soon as it appears in my conscious awareness.

Don't know why. That's just how my brain operates.

I think of it as an extra gear I have to solve problems. Something inside my own mind that goes to work while I'm not paying attention. Even when I'm not conscious. Something's in there. Working in the background.

So yeah.

Blank pages suck. 

Writer's block sucks.

Coming up empty sucks. I won't lie.

But knowing how my mind works means that blank pages, unanswered questions, and coming up empty are all signs that I need to think in a different way. And because I'm paid to be impressively creative on a deadline...

I do that.