Re-Writes: The Most Wonderful Time of My Process - or - How I am Responsible for Deforestation

After finishing the initial first draft I always take a bit of a break from anything I am writing.  The doubt demons start planning their vacation, generally involving a trip to an IRS processing center or an animal testing lab.  Everything is quiet and, while the story continues to rattle in the back of my head, I try not to think about it.

This distancing is a part of my own process.  It gives the story time to germinate and cook for a while.  True, the words saved on my computer don’t change during this time, but my approach as to how I might handle them will as my subconscious does its work.

Some writers produce a first draft that only needs a few tweaks here and a few editing passes.  I am not one of those writers.  My first drafts are always a skeleton of plot, characters and motivations that tells the story from beginning to end; A living DNA sequence of what “might be” still battling for existence in the final draft.  Some initial drafts are closer to a final than others.

The troll story was not.

The doubt demons waved as they walk out the door, reminding me, one last time, that that I had written a bunch of crap.  I didn’t even acknowledge them as I read though my work.  At this point it didn’t matter.  I didn’t care what they thought even though I was looking at garbage.  Something I would never share with anyone in its current form.

The freshly printed story sat before me.  My heart raced.  My pen scratched across the paper.  This was the beginning of my favorite part of my writing.  At this point I have one question at the back of my mind.  Is there something in this mess that excites me?  Something that will keep me interested enough in it to see it through to the end?

If the answer is no, then the file is tucked away in the folder of miss-fit stories.  I assure the Word document, that I will check in on it after a while and see if we can work something out, but that has never happened with the other files that were placed in that folder– some of them never even making it to a finished first draft.

But if the answer is yes, then fun begins. I start the re-writes.

This is a chaotic time where no element of my initial draft is safe.  Things get moved around.  Characters are developed, changed, developed more and changed again.  Some are removed; others get merged into a single character.  Entire sections of the story are destroyed by a swipe of my pen, and new scenes pop into existence.  I judge quickly and navigate by my own amusement, creating and destroying at my whim.

I am God. 

New versions appear on a daily basis.  I hunt for what works and what doesn’t, and I keep asking, “what if?”  A change here or there flows through the story like a mudslide; each change must be accounted for with new changes.  And those changes create ripples of their own.  I type in the changes, save the new version, review it, and then change some more.  I thrive in the chaos.

By the way, here’s why the doubt demons leave during this phase: they hate trees.  They dream of a world without trees, and know if I am left alone during this time, I will take out as many of them as I can.

Hello.  My name is Scott and I use up a lot of paper.

When I write my first draft, I do it all on a computer.  But from that point on, each new version is printed out to do battle with my pen.  I envy those environmentally minded writers that can do it all by using a keyboard while gazing at their monitor. I’m just unable to do that.  Each version must be held in my hands while the dissection occurs.  Lines are scribbled out and notes are written that are later added, yes using a keyboard, to create the newest version saved on my computer.  During this time, reams of marked-up paper can be found around my house until my wife threatens to rip off my back hair unless I put it away somewhere or get it out of the house.

So how long does this tree killing spree go on?  It depends.  For my troll story I went through six major re-writes and countless minor changes until I was comfortable enough to share it with some close friends for initial feedback.  After that, I went through three or four additional iteration until I thought it was ready to share with the anthology’s contributors and editors. 

With each new version, the number of changes compared to the last dwindled.  Characters matured.  Most plot holes had been filled with asphalt.  Time passed, the story stabilized and matured.  The changes turned from substance to stylistic.  The time of the re-writes was ending, the fun part was ending.  The doubt demons returned home refreshed and ready to get back to work.

It was time to start editing.

A Blog Facelift

Lets be honest, the look and feel of my blog was bad.  Even I hated it.  So I've made some changes to hopefully make it more enjoyable.

So here's what's changed:

• I got rid of the silly (and that's being kind) book background.   I wish I could say I was drunk when I added it, but I wasn't.
• I added the ability to share my post via social media.  Not that there's a lot of demand for that right now, but a guy has to dream there could come the day when they're used.
• I added a links section that includes links to the editors of the coming-soon anthology "For Whom the Bell Trolls" (where you will find my story "Trolling on the River").  Lindy and John are talented people and you need to check them out.
• I added a contact me form in the case someone wants, well, to contact me.
• Finally,  I cleaned up and removed some post in the name of revisionist history and to save anyone finding this place time and sanity.

Let me know what you think.

The Writing Begins and Crap Comes Out

“Boon Shifted his weight from foot to foot trying not to stare at the old troll slumped in the large wooden chair.”

This was the first sentence I typed on my way to the first draft of my troll short story–nothing special, but a start.

“Do you really think you can write a good story?” The doubt demons asked.   “Everything you are typing here is crap, crap, crap, crap crap.”

“Leave me alone,” I said.

They laughed and danced around.  “Crap, crap, crap, crap, crapppity crap, crap crap.”

I had to give it to the demons–  a lot of what I was writing did stink.  There had to be more productive things I could be doing.  Netfix has a lot of movies and I could always find the latest cat video somewhere one Facebook.

But a draft isn’t intended to be quality.  The goal is to get the words down beginning to end.  I knew that, but I wanted to start editing and throw out the stupid sentences the doubt demons chuckled over, but I didn’t.  I kept going and accepted that the draft would be bad.  I had to prove to myself that I could do this– or prove once and for all I couldn’t.

So I typed and kept typing.  I made goals– just get 200 words down today.  At one point I filled half a page with the word “crap” typed over and over again.  That was the only section I modified before finishing the draft by adding the question “So what?” to the series of crap.  That put me over 300 words for that day.

At times, I left sections of the page blank with a note to “put something here” or “have him talk to the old troll.”  I jumped around, zigged and zagged, with one goal– finish the damn thing.

I have heard that finishing the draft is always the most important step.  While editing, which I’ll talk about later, takes up more time and effort, finishing the initial draft is the mental Mount Everest of the effort.  It is giving birth to the ugly duck that you hope will turn into a swan.  But without that duck, you don’t have anything other than the company of the doubt demons celebrating their victory.

I finished my duck early November of 2013, deleted section of “crap” I had earlier typed then put it away for a for a while before stated the edits.  This first draft took me longer to complete than many others I‘ve done.  It wasn’t any better than any of my other first drafts; it was worse.  But it didn’t bother me.  I finished it and I didn’t stop myself along the way.  And in looking back, I now know that if I did it once, I can do it again.

Starting a Troll Story

So Lindy Moon made the offer.  Submit a story for anthology “For Whom the Bell Trolls” that would be published October 2014.  Genre did matter, length didn’t matter (within reason); the story just had to be about trolls.  Since I had already agreed to submit something, I started with the first logical step.  I panicked.

Unlike other attempts to have my work published this was a sure thing, however I had to write first and it needed to be good.  How could I create a good story?  Since my mother’s death, I couldn’t manage a simple fragmented sentence.

But before worrying about butchering the English language, I had to come up with an idea for a story involving trolls.  When I could come up with an idea I threw it into the boring pile and went back to moping.   One idea kept poking at me.

“How about something based on the Billy Goats Gruff?”
I rolled my eyes and threw it onto the boring pile.
“It has a troll,” the idea said. “And we could tell it from his point of view.  Make him the good guy.”

I tried to ignore the idea week after week, coming close to putting my fingers in my ears and saying “can’t hear you!”  Surely I could come up with something better, something snazzy and eye catching.  But the stupid kept creeping back into my mind.  Finally I agreed to try it, if nothing else to shut it up and prove how stupid it was.

But once I started working with it, it didn’t seem so stupid.  I added to the idea and it added to itself until the story, which would appear in the anthology, fully formed.  Well, not fully formed- that would come much later in the process, but I had enough of a direction that I could start writing.  Doubts would continue through the writing and editing, but in the end the idea and I worked through our differences to produce a finished work.

My big take away here and what did I learn?  Instead of looking for a great idea, I need to trust the initial ideas that come up and let them play out.  Sure some might end up being things that should never see the light of day, but I won’t know that until I let it play out.  And if the first idea doesn’t work I can then move on to the next.

Maybe I will never know if it was a dumb idea or not.  Maybe that doesn’t matter.  As soon as soon as I finished my final edits the responsibility of determining the worth of the idea falls on the reader.  And after spending so much time with the idea, I wish it luck.

I hope they like it.

Starting Over- A Very Good Place to Start

Yes it has been a long time, well over a couple of years since my last post and I hope to change that starting now.

Since my last post the writing stopped with the death of my mom.  Words just wouldn't come, and those I tried to force seemed empty and meaningless.  I was close to quitting it all convinced I couldn't write anymore.  At the time I wondered if I ever did have any talent or promise.  Sure my friends enjoyed the stories I shared with them, but I could never get anyone else to consider my work for publishing.

Some dream are just that, dreams that in the morning light fade away.

But then a surprising thing happened.  Lindy Moon (more on her later) invited me to submit a story for an anthology she was putting together that would be published in October 2014.  I read her email and the voices in my head listed every reason I should decline her offer.  I had all the right excuses- I was busy at work, I couldn't write anymore (and when I could write I wasn't good), and I didn't want to disappoint her, or myself, at the disaster of my attempt to write a short story.

But a small voice supported the dream and didn't want it to die.  I told Lindy I would love to write something for the anthology.

That was last September.  Today I and going back and forth with Lindy on the last few edits and all that will be left is waiting for the anthology to come out.

So to restart this blog I intend to go over what I have learned over this past year, both about myself and my writing.  And by the way, the title of the anthology is "For Whom the Bell Trolls"

More very soon.

In The Beginning - or - lets start a few years back

So how did this fixation with writing begin, you ask.  Or perhaps you didn't, but I I'll going to share anyway.  If I didn't, this would be a very short post.

Writing is contrary to many of my normal strengths and tendencies.  Not that I consider myself non-creative, I think of myself a creative spirit trapped in a lazy mans body.  I lack what most writers need to have to be successful- the ability to spell, knowledge as to whether my participle is dangling or not, and truthfully I'm not a delayed gratification type of guy.  Writing is like- "Hey I am in a mood for an apple pie.  I think I'll go out an plant an apple tree." It's a long process and, if you can find an audience, they are reading it after you've moved on to something else.

About a year ago, when trying to figure out what this whole Facebook thing was about, I reconnected with a high school friend who invited me to join an online "flash fiction" writing group.  Flash fiction are very short stories, that depending on who is defining them, are less than either 500 or 1000 words.  

For a number of years I hadn't done anything creative and so I thought, sure why not and joined the group.  Each month there was a theme.  Each month I, submitted a story, sometimes two, and people would say "that's really good.".  But everyone was pretty much saying that about every story posted.

But I wanted to know if what I was writing was really good or not.  So I joined a local writing group and got some good feedback on two stories that I had written.  (Looking back the stories blew chunks, but the feedback moved me forward.)

Anyway, a year later I am still writing.  I haven't had anything published yet, but I'm still trying.  In the past year I have written eighteen short stories, bought two grammar books (who would have ever thought I would be buying grammar books after I graduated high school) and have turned into the "hey can you read this and tell me what you think" guy as I push my latest draft into their hands.

I really haven't given up on instant gratification.