I’m always thinking about writing and how to describe it to people who don’t write. It’s something that is both simple and complex to describe, because like most kinds of art, writing refuses to be boxed into simple definitions. Putting words on paper is what writing involves, but it is not what writing is.
One thing that writing is is the art of cutting away the unnecessary. Putting in too many or too few words is easy; adding just enough is hard. Authors spend their whole lives perfecting that technique.
And then my brain shifts gears and starts thinking: Can the same be said of stories in general? Everyone has at least one good story in them, but then there are those who have dozens, even hundreds of stories. Which ones do we tell, and which do we leave unsaid? In other words, which are the ones worth telling the world?
There are stories published that perhaps should not have been. On the other hand, there are also books written that will never see the light of day, maybe first attempts that authors are content to let sit in their drawer undisturbed (I’m not one of them. I published my first book, for better or for worse. You be the judge).
Some stories are complete in themselves, but get sequels that no one asked for. And some … This may be a strange thing to say, but I think that some stories can stay cozily confined within our own thoughts or just typed out on our computers and taken no further. Not every story needs to be told. But writers do need to write. It’s a hobby as well as a career.
Shifting through all the possibilities, the tons of tales that we think up, and deciding which we will commit our time to writing and which we must pass up on. That’s an art unto itself.
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
A life without music would be dull, that’s easy enough to say. But for me, it would also be a great deal more difficult to write anything noteworthy.
It is my belief that music is the purest expression of emotions and feelings available to humankind, just as written words are the purest expression of structured ideas. How do we describe good music? Moving, exciting, stirring, heartbreaking, uplifting, thrilling, contemplative. Music makes us feel. Words can, too, of course, but where a written story might give us a good shove now and then, music slaps us in the face – in a good way. Take any scene from a movie or stage play and remove the music. What do you have left? A bunch of people yelling and prancing around, usually. But add the music, and your heart beats to a gallop, or sinks in defeat or halts in anticipation. You no longer see something silly, but an experience of deep sincerity.
So what does this have to do with my writing? Simple. I listen to music for inspiration. Lots of people do, and I’m one of them. If you’re a writer and haven’t tried music as a way to come up with new ideas and work through the details of current ones, then I highly recommend it. Music stirs up emotions into a bubbling well, and from that well I draw my inspiration to fuel my projects.
I suppose that music and words go hand in hand. Two different forms of passion that perfectly compliment each other.
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
Interesting thought for the day: All storytellers are liars.
Authors, poets, filmmakers, artists … We make things up. We show things to audiences that aren’t real.
But we’re liars who admit we’re liars. The things we tell in our stories are acknowledged as fiction. That’s why it’s called “fiction” and not “deception.”
There is an unspoken agreement between storyteller and audience: I will tell you something untrue, and you will treat it as something true until the story is ended. Audiences know that they are witnessing a fabrication, and so it is acceptable.
But stories do discuss real things – people, events, feelings, ideas, places – although the story itself isn’t true. Even if it is retelling a piece of history, it’s prefaced by the words “Based on a true story.”
Yet if it presents itself as real history, but isn’t, then it’s an actual lie.
Stories are lies that know they are lies and willingly admit it. And so they aren’t true lies, because they don’t pretend to be anything else.
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
Whenever you are fed up with life, start writing: ink is the great cure for all human ills, as I have found out long ago.
C. S. Lewis
One of my favorite writers and thinkers, providing some advice to all writers out there – and anyone else who needs to work through life’s bullying moments.
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
If you’re a cat person, then sorry, I really don’t know what to tell you.
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
Drafts are a vital part of any writing project. Very, very, very rarely is any book released on its first draft. You need to pour over your work many times to make sure it’s ready for publication. But, the question often arises: How many drafts should you write? Three? Four? Eleven? How many is enough?
There’s no hard and fast answer. It depends on the author. Different strokes for different writers.
Even so, I’ve come across a few general tips that can help you decide how long to spend in the drafting stage.
Set yourself goals for each draft. Pick one specific thing to improve for each draft you write. Your first draft -the vomit draft, as I like to call it – is just getting your story onto paper. Your second draft, perhaps, can center around developing story and characterization. For the next one, pay attention to grammar and sentence structure. Whatever you choose, each draft sees definite and specific improvement, and you may find yourself not needing to go through as many as you expected.
Don’t expect perfection. You’ll never get there. Drafting is about improvement, not reaching an ideal but unattainable state of “perfection.” Even the greatest writers make mistakes. Focus on refining and polishing. Every time you go through your story, you’re making it better. Each draft builds on the previous one.
Pace yourself. Sometimes, wrapping up one draft and jumping straight into the next isn’t a good idea. Give yourself a few days to let your subconscious mull over things. A little break can be great for your writing as you begin anew rested and with a fresh perspective. You find yourself more easily spotting errors and opportunities.
You have to publish eventually. If you want to release your book to the public, you will have to stop drafting at some point. You have to tell yourself that your story is ready. Remember: Refining and editing is all well and good, but if you never stop, then you will reach a point where you’re doing more harm than good. You lose sight of the whole and get buried in nitpicks that add nothing. A sculptor who never stops chiseling the marble ends up with nothing but gravel in the end.
Some people love the drafting stage, other people don’t. I find it a useful and interesting process. I not only clean up the chaos of my first draft, but also discover new things about my characters, new storytelling techniques, and just plain mature as a writer. However many you find necessary, remember the most important tip of all: Have fun with it!
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
Well, for starters, I’d figure out what the heck is meant by “city of the future.”
I mean, hypothetical, futuristic cities designed in the 1950s look a lot different from what we 2020ers think they should look like . A lot less art-deco and a lot more Apple aesthetic. Lots of white and curved corners. In fifty more years, the city of the future will probably be imagined as made of recyclable plastic or something.
But this is my city, right? I can do what I want. So, futuristic means pretty, practical, and maybe even a little sustainable.
First thing’s first, its streets are based on a grid system. I want a city that’s easy to navigate with no silly, loopy streets going every which way. If we live in the future, we should be able to make our own cities easy to drive in, a least. Also, wide streets. My city will acknowledge the existence of heavy traffic and anticipate it. Wide streets that can accommodate, oh, let’s say six lanes.
But I’m also going to offer incentives to not drive cars everywhere. Because we’re in the future, right? And cars are a thing of the past. Well, they might be. It’s the future, who knows what’s going to happen?
So, I’ll have elevated rail lines for the train and also lots and lots of rental stations with electric bikes. Just put in a quarter and ride your rental for an hour or so. Also, I’m bringing back trolleys. Trolleys are a great idea, and I’ll fight the gas companies to make my city’s public transportation system the best in the world.
Since my city is on a grid, I’m thinking it’ll be shaped like a big square or rectangle. In the center is where all the skyscrapers will be located; the major businesses and corporate headquarters will have their places in the center, and they aren’t going to be big blocks of glass. I want some curvature to these buildings, something a little softer on the eyes. No hard corners. Also, solar panels. I’ll coat the upper floors of these skyscrapers in solar panels. Fancy, futuristic solar panels that are transparent or something, so you can still see out the windows. Not possible? Well, guess what? It’s the future!
Ah, speaking of power, I’m also going to install revolutionary new generators under the city center sidewalks that convert the kinetic force of footsteps into electrical energy. That’s right, I’m going to design a city that generates power from people walking down the sidewalk. Impossible, you say? Need I remind you? Future!
The most vital part of my city design is trees. Lots and lots of trees. The streets will be lined with trees, and there will be dozens of parks. Big parks, little parks, flower gardens, all scattered throughout the city. The very center of the city, smack dab in the middle, will be the biggest park, with a lake, a sports field, a walking loop through the woods, and more. Trees are important. They provide fresh oxygen and help calm people who otherwise are trapped in an artificial world. My city of the future will have nature in it.
That’s about all I can think of. A nice, pretty city that’s livable. And preferably cheap to live in. It needs lots of incentives for businesses to come in and employ people, but I’m just the designer, not the economist, so I can’t answer that here. But I’m sure my revolutionary sidewalk power generators will cut down on costs somehow.
I took the time to describe my basic idea to AI and got this image spat out in response.
Not bad, actually. I was expecting worse from AI. The buildings aren’t quite what I wanted, but I like the distinct lack of traffic and lots of bicyclists. Also, trees. Yes, that many trees.
There you have it. My city of the future.
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
We as human beings don’t like to hear about “limits.” We want to do our own thing without anything holding us back. But consider the breadth of human imagination and all the choices you have as a writer and ask yourself, “How do I even know where to start with my story? Where do I go with it? How do I keep it organized?”
The truth is, stories need boundaries. That’s the difference between a story and rambling. Stories have a point, and they stick to that point. Telling a story about shopping at the grocery store is not going to include what your kids did at school that day. And a story about grocery shopping isn’t going to take as long to tell as, say, the history of Great Britain. Different stories have different limits. But they do need limits.
Some of us like to meander. We have so many ideas and we want to shove them all in. It’s fun to type away at your computer and watch the words flow. But knowing when to stop – ah, there’s the rub.
Here’s a metaphor for you: Imagine your story is like the human body. It’s made of many different complex parts. But all those parts are able to stay together and function properly because of the skin. Skin covers the body and keeps it in place. If we didn’t have skin, we’d just sort of … ooze all over. And who wants that?
It’s the same with writing. You have an idea, or two or three. Great! Now stop. Organize those ideas, don’t add to them. Stories have a beginning, middle, and end. A triggering event, rising action, climax, and epilogue. In other words, stories have structure. And structure, by its very nature, is defined by boundaries and restrictions. They aren’t bad things. They’re necessary for anything to make sense and have form.
Outlining your story ahead of time is a great way to know what your story is about, to know what to put in and what to hold back. Yes, things will shift and change as you go through drafts. But don’t keep adding and adding and adding. Know when to stop and refine what you already have. Put a skin on your story.
If overwriting is a major problem for you, then put a limit on your word count. Something miraculous occurs when you suddenly have a ceiling you can bump your head on.
When we are deprived of the freedom to do everything, we discover a new well of creativity. We choose our words more carefully. We find focus. Words matter more, so we experiment until we find the right ones. We cut away cumbersome paragraphs and sentences. Knowing there’s a cap on our writing makes us pay extra special attention to dialogue, plotting, pacing, and everything else.
Limits are good. They force us to be better writers.
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
It’s so easy to look at the writing community and be amazed at the writers who churn out novels like nobody’s business. A novel per year, two novels, even three! How can anyone hope to compete with that kind of productivity? For those of us just starting out, we may feel a burden being placed on our shoulders. We may feel that we have to “keep up” to be considered good writers.
Well, I say “Phooey” to that. Every writer is different, and we all have different paces at which we write. Some write slow, some fast. And not everyone has a dozen stories to share, or even two. Some people only have one good book in them for their entire lives. My respect to those who publish that one book.
Comparing yourself to other writers, using the accomplishments of others as the measure of your own worth and talent, is a flawed notion. What do you know about the life of those writers? How long have they been writing, and how much time do they have with which to write? And even more importantly, what sacrifices have they made to achieve their output?
I have a day job and other responsibilities. I have friends and a social calendar. As much as a part of me would love to write 8 hours a day every day, the simple truth is that I can’t. I make deadlines, I make an effort to write something every day, but I’m no book-making machine. But I can still be content with my work.
So, if you feel that your worth as a writer is measured by how prolific you are, take a breath and relax. Don’t rush your writing, and don’t seek quantity over quality. A rushed product is messy and rarely 100% of your potential. There is no race, except maybe against the deadlines you set for yourself. Don’t rob yourself of the enjoyment of what you do.
We’re all different. Our writing journeys are different. Figure out what works for you.
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
I have … several … words that I believe have seeped into the social fabric as overused and overrated vocabulary. Words used so often they don’t have any meaning left except as placeholders or hollow props to push a point. But one word I, as a storyteller and writer, really, really, really, really tire of seeing used at the drop of a hat is this:
Genius.
I see it everywhere online.
“Look at that camera shot! Genius!”
“Did you read this cool one-liner in this comic book? It’s awesome! Genius!”
“Look at what she’s wearing! I love it! The designer is a genius!”
“This music pumps me up! It must be genius!”
No, it’s not. It’s not genius. It’s likeable and memorable and probably technically very skillful. But it’s not genius just because you personally like it.
If I’m coming on strong with this, it’s because I don’t like it when people’s vocabulary is reduced to a handful of expressions and words to communicate a vast and varied array of feelings and situations. It cheapens words. Wait, what am I saying? Words are expensive. They must be, because so many people can’t seem to afford to learn any more.
Genius is a word with a history. The ancient Romans believed the genius was a type of spirit. Genii watched over people and resided in objects and locations. They were entities that guided and assisted people. They were an abstract, animistic concept with concrete benefits.
Genius evolved to mean an individual possessing remarkable and unique creative or intellectual ability. Geniuses are singular in their talents. They are rare, and often leave a significant impact on the world beyond that of simple aesthetic or crowd pleasing. Their minds are quantifiably beyond that of others.
Note that I said “rare.” Geniuses, true geniuses, don’t sprout up like dandelions. And yet, somewhere down the road, society lost the plot. It loves to attach the word to anything. And, I suspect, not because one truly believes the person or the work has intellectual or creative worth, but because of personal gratification. Genius is whatever you want it to be. Genius has become relative.
Maybe it always was? Maybe. But were Einstein or Turing or Leonardo da Vinci merely relatively smarter than the average joe? Or were they actually making remarkable and unprecedented achievements in their fields through learned and innate skill that is extremely hard to match? There’s nothing relative about genius. It is either present, or it isn’t.
This is not to tread over the achievements of others. Not everyone is a genius, but there are many, many skilled people in the arts and sciences who have produced amazing things for people to enjoy and benefit from. They should not be put down. And geniuses work hard, too. It’s the hard-working ones that we know about. But for the love of apple pie, please stop throwing the word around like confetti! Let it hold some meaning.
On the other hand, linguistic drift is a thing. Tragically, “genius” may very well go the way of so many other words with rich histories and meanings and become just another toy in pop culture’s box.
But not for us bloggers, right? Right?
Many thanks for visiting my blog. I post updates on my writing career, I muse over storytelling and fiction, and I reflect on the curious and wonderful things in life.
Jake W. Powell 