Notes from a workshop

Well that was interesting. In my writers' group no-one else is outlining.

I described my current experiment. I'm breaking the first third of my novel into scenes, and mapping them out in summary before I start my next draft. That called forth a polite little silence. Eventually someone remarked on the weather. And everyone agreed with relief that, yes, it has been lovely and sunny here in San Francisco, and maybe we're moving past the fog. OK, it wasn't quite that bad, but I definitely got the sense that people want to let their stories and characters grow from the practice of writing.

As the session progressed, though, I began to see that the two approaches aren't as opposed as you might think.
One workshop member described how he got round a problem with a lifeless character. He phoned up the character's real-life counterpart, and restarted a friendship that had faded over thirty years ago. Another spent a while in the desert to get a feel for her setting. This kind of backstory research is similar in a way to the mining I've been doing into character and story, even though I haven't been referring to actual people or places. There's real value in getting away from the text of a project, and exploring around it, behind it, and reconnecting with the engines that drive your story.

That led us on to another question. How do you know when to stop researching and revising? There was some consensus that nothing is ever truly finished. The workshop tutor suggested that this is where other people come in. You can get a sense that a project is ready in collaboration with expert readers. If you're lucky that might mean agents or editors, or it could mean fellow students or tutors.

I mentioned that I often feel guilty putting work into research, because it doesn't contribute to word count. In my experience all writers are in love with word count. We love to chalk our words up. There's a glow you get when you reach or (joy) surpass your daily target. Anyone who has taken part in NaNoWriMo will know exactly what I mean.

Again, I gradually realized that the outliner and the just-write-it advocate start from different places but arrive at the same problem space. Our tutor, for example, described how he tricked himself into exploring backstory. He simply writes it into his novel. Then, in revision, he cuts it out again. He is able to count the words to his own satisfaction, to feel that sense of moving forward with his project, but he also gets that background done.
Another attendee told me he was writing the scenes that interested him, jumping about the story. Sooner or later, he admitted, he'd have to start linking them together. When he gets there, he'll be confronting problems I'm exploring up front.

Three phrases jumped out of the session. Someone was described as a 'Fifty mile baptist'. That is, a Christian who is magically released from her faith's strictures as soon as she puts enough distance between herself and her church. 'Plot fatigue', where a story has so much tension, incident and energy that the reader is simply exhausted by the lack of respite. Finally, I have to return to the research trick I described above. "I just couldn't reach the life of the character,” my neighbor said, “So I called him up on the phone."