Trusting the Process

by Shannon Baker

There are as many ways to write as there are writers. More, in fact, because what works for one writer for one book might not work for the next book. For now, I’ve discovered a method that seems to work for me.

I charge through the first draft without pausing to look back. I set a challenging daily word count and begin at page one and write through until the last chapter. I start off with a fairly clear idea of the plot. I try to use the four part method and have reversals and twists at the appropriate spots. But even with all the planning, the whole boat inevitably sails off the edge of the world. It takes longer to set up scenes than I anticipated or I get a better idea along the way. Sometimes, my initial plot only has a place marker that says something like, she must be betrayed by him and end up at the ranch.

I used to get bent when I didn’t know all the details at the outset. Or if I had a better idea, I’d feel as if I needed to fix the previous pages before I moved on. But I’m teaching myself to trust the process and to forge ahead without any more editing than making notes about what needs to be included or changed. I know that those changes might change again and again before the end of the book so working on them now only slows the process.

What this means is that I can gallop very quickly through a first draft. But when it’s done, I’ve got a terrible mess. It’s the kind of disaster that pops me wide awake at 2 A.M. wondering how it will ever come together. But I soothe myself with the knowledge that it usually does gel at some point and nothing is done that can’t be undone.

Yesterday I finished my draft and today I’m staring at a pile of pages that I know are mostly crap. To be honest, I can’t remember some of the scenes or the clues I placed. I’m terrified to read the drivel I slapped down. Many of those words were grudgingly written with one eye to the word count, bargaining with myself that as soon as I finished the daily goal I could ride my bike or have a cookie. I am not above bribery. Also, I’m not entirely adult.

Hopefully I’ll find something salvageable in the dross. I know the pacing is off because I didn’t hit my stride until about half way through. So I will need to move chunks of exposition from the beginning, punching up the pace, adding clues.

But this first draft is the frame. What I’ll begin with on this second go is adding the rooms and giving it the structure. From there, I’ll put up the drywall by making sure it flows in a cohesive whole. Finally, there will be painting and bringing in the furniture and artwork that will finish it off.

I’ve got a long way to go before this puppy is housebroken. (How many metaphors can I come up with for one manuscript?) But I’ve got one stage down and am feeling hopeful.

What is your process and have you learned to trust it?

Third Time's the Charm

I've reached a critical scene in my work-in-progress (WiP), Cataract Canyon, which will be the third adventure for river ranger Mandy Tanner in my Rocky Mountain Outdoor Adventures mystery series that I'm writing for Midnight Ink. In this critical scene, Mandy and her partner Rob Juarez are sharing what they've found out about what's really going on and are making some conclusions. Those conclusions will drive their decision about what to do next--and that "what to do next" is the big confrontational climax.

The problem is that neither one of them knows everything yet, and even when they share the information they each have, they don't have the complete picture. So, they're confused and so is the reader. Sometimes that can be a good thing, but sometimes not if the confusion is too much. The first time I wrote this scene, the result was "unripe" like these not-red-yet persimmons. I left out issues and people they should have discussed, so for the reader, threads in the plot were left hanging loose. Even if Mandy and Rob didn't know everything yet about these issues and people, they should have brought them up in the discussion.


On to attempt two with that scene. In that rewrite, Mandy and Rob hashed out everything and everybody and every clue that they had come across so far. They figured out most of what was going on, and in the process, too much was revealed to them--and the reader. Very few surprises were left to be revealed in the climax. In other words, the rewrite stank. It was overripe, just like these bananas.


After sleeping on it with a nagging feeling that the scene was just not right yet, I ripped out the whole thing and started from scratch. Mandy and Rob reveal some important information to each other--and the reader--but not too much. They figure out enough of what's really going on to make some smart decisions, but not to eliminate all the risks. So, there's room for surprise and danger to appear in the climax. Now, the scene is "just right," like these apricots. Perfectly ripe, but not mushy, and with enough meatiness to sustain my characters--and my readers--as they rush forward into the climax.


Thus, the third time was the charm. The third time I wrote this scene, I felt that it finally worked. What would have happened if I didn't take the time to keep on reworking it until it was right? The dullness of an unripe plot or the rottenness of a too-ripe one would have propagated into the climax, leaving readers unsatisfied and with a bad taste in their mouths. Yes, doing this rework put me behind in my writing schedule, but it had to be done.

On to the climax ...

If you're a writer, have you had to rewrite a scene multiple times before you felt its flavor was perfect? If you're a reader, have you read a scene that you felt should have been rewritten until it tasted better? Please share!

The Muddle in the Middle

I'm in the middle of the rough draft of the current manuscript I'm working on--the third book in the Claire Hanover gift basket designer mystery series. And that's always where the writing bogs down.

In the first third of a mystery, the goals for the writer are fairly straight-forward: start off with a bang--usually a body hitting the floor, introduce the sleuth, commit the sleuth to investigate the crime, introduce most if not all of the suspects, start the subplot(s) rolling, and end with the first turning point (big surprise). There's the excitement of starting a new project and discovering my characters. So, I usually can plow through the writing of those scenes in my outline fairly quickly.

Similarly, the goals for the writer in the last third of the mystery are fairly straight-forward: in an ah-ha! moment the sleuth makes the final determination of who-dunnit, the villain is confronted and captured, subplots are resolved, justice is served and everyone (except the villain) lives happily ever after. Also, I can see the light at the end of the tunnel and the excitement of nearing the end keeps me motivated and moving forward. So, again, I can plow through the writing of the final scenes in my outline.

The muddle in the middle, though is a whole different story. Hidden motives and relationships between the characters are revealed, the stakes are raised, more turning points occur where the sleuth realizes she's been heading in the wrong direction. The sleuth mucks around talking to suspects, discovering clues, changing her mind from one minute to the next who the killer might be.

And I muck around, too. This is where it's important for the writer--and the sleuth--to remember who was where when and who knew what when. So, I'm constantly scanning back in the manuscript to remind myself of these things or to discover whoops, I didn't set them up or define them and I have some repair work to do. The writing slows down. The motivation ebbs.

That's when I need "a little help from my friends" to keep me churning out those pages. My critique group helps, as does setting weekly goals and reporting on those goals to people who will hold me accountable. And, knowing that I've eventually found my way out of the muddle in the middle five times before in prior manuscripts helps. But, none of that takes away the agony, self-doubt, backtracking and just plain hard work it takes for me to muddle my way out of the middle.

What about you? If you're a writer, when do you tend to lose that motivation or get bogged down in the writing? And if you're a reader, is the middle of a mystery when you start to get confused and the reading slows down? Do you find yourself going back in the book to remember things, as I often do?

Kids These Days

Cricket McRae

In early November I received an email from a local high school sophomore. She was looking for a community mentor to help her with the personal project she was doing for the IB program she was in. She wanted to write a novel.

I agreed. Meet once a month for six months, answer questions, give advice and encouragement. No problem.

Well.

First off, she didn't just want to write a novel. She wanted to write a novel and get it published. The first time we met, in the second week in November, she said she planned on having the first draft done by the end of the year. It was right there on the goal sheet she'd worked out with her project advisor. Six weeks, one book.

Okay, I said, and to her horror brought up the calculator on my phone. To write a 250 page book she'd have to write 6 pages a day. Every day. And it might a good idea if we met more than once a month.

With a relieved expression she waved it off. "Oh, I can do that."

And she did. In fits and starts, around school, advanced homework, violin lessons, orchestra concerts and travel for speech and debate, she wrote a book. The last seven chapters hit my inbox at 12:30 a.m. on Tuesday. From what I can tell from all the chunks -- she's putting them all in one file now -- it's over 300 pages about a group of teenagers coming of age.

I'm so stinking proud of her.

It's rough, and she realizes that. On Tuesday she was ready to start rewriting. I reviewed all of it as she wrote, and very deliberately kept my feedback to structural, character and plot issues. Left her writing alone, not wanting to trip up her considerable momentum.

The writing has a crazy, raw vibrancy. Some places it's nearly unreadable, others are crisp and spot on. Some of the dialog is amazingly good, other places she's feeling her way with the characters and it shows. She's learning how to show rather than tell, and has a real knack for describing characters.

I handled the text-y dialog (OMGee Yay! jsyk) and the occasional dip into hip-hoppity lingo all right, fo' shizzle. Then toward the end of the book I cottoned to the fact that a lot of the dialog between the teens is in song lyrics.

Pointing out a particular line, I asked her about it. The look she gave me was full of pity. "You don't know that song? It's Queen."

Hrm. I know that look. See, my brain is the place song lyrics go to die. But I recognized what she was doing, finally, because I live with a musician, and he quotes songs all the time. Sometimes I notice and sometimes I don't.

"Do kids actually talk like that?" I asked.

"My friends and I do all the time. It's like a code."

I am so glad I'm not in high school now.

So my mentee is plunging back in to her book. She has three months to rewrite and research publishers (and agents) and send out queries. I'll be giving her more specific feedback on her writing now, but I don't want to step on her decidedly unique style.

I know a lot of you are teachers, and even more have kids. Any advice?

Neatness Doesn't Always Count

Cricket McRae

Yesterday I cooked.

I made beer-cheese soup. Brown the sausage, drain. Brown carrots, onion, celery. Add chicken stock. Simmer. Add grated raw milk cheddar dredged in flour, salt, pepper, Worchestershire, dry mustard, sausage and a bottle of Sierra Nevada pale ale.

Kind of made a mess.

I made bread. Easy peasy if you use the method in Artisan Bread in Five Minutes a Day, which I highly recommend. But I mixed enough starter to last for two weeks. In a bucket. With my hands.

Messy.

Then there was the butter. Call me weird, but I like cultured butter but I don't like to pay eight dollars a pound for it at Whole Foods. So I mix piima culture into a jar of local cream and two days later let the standing mixer beat it to death until I get butter. And buttermilk. The real stuff. Salad dressings, pancakes ... mmmm.

Simple, but it can get a little messy.

This weekend I worked on a new writing project. First draft stuff. Notes all over my desk, stacks of books with post-its poking out, character's names changing from page to page, a notebook full of clustered plot ideas.

A real mess.

Lengthy descriptions here, not enough detail there, so many adverbs I'm surprised they didn't spill off the computer screen. Too many of the qualifying words that are my weakness -- just, only, sometimes, quite.

Blech. Such a mess.

This weekend I cleaned the kitchen. Wiped down the counters and the cupboards, scrubbed the sink, swept and mopped the floor. I did the dishes and scoured pans and shined up the appliances.

And this weekend I edited some work I wrote last week. Trimmed words, clarified dialog, rearranged awkward grammar, added sensory detail, eliminated an entire scene and sketched out a new one.

Last night I ended up with good food, and hopefully good prose. And watched the Broncos game, recorded from earlier in the day. Which was a real mess.