I'm really in it now. I've become consumed by my story, my characters. They're all clanging around my head, desperate to escape. Details emerge every part of the day, even when not writing. A new twist will occur to me as I clean around the house. A facet dawns as I cook. And when I drive, this world pushes aside all other thoughts, gleefully taking center stage.
It sounds like madness when I describe it. Perhaps it is a kind of madness, one that every author develops as they sink further into the story they write. I'm convinced that in order to make the story and the characters live and breathe on the page as authentically as anything in real life, it must become ALIVE to you. It must possess you. And so allow myself to become possessed, I do.
In the idle times between writing and researching, I look back and realize that I've always been doing this. I've always been creating little stories in my head. I lacked the focus to fully realize them as a younger person, but the potential was always there. When I wasn't writing, I was treating myself as the protagonist in every kind of fantasy a person could think of. So it's a bit odd that I still look at my decision to become a writer with so much surprise; I've been doing this much longer than anything else.
Friday, January 13, 2012
Wednesday, January 11, 2012
On Flaws in Character
As you all probably guessed from my month of silence, I took the holidays off from writing. I didn't necessarily take it off from the project; I continued to research and outline, take notes and scribble down ideas. This story has actively taken over a large part of my brain, so even when I'm not writing, I'm always thinking about it.
It was nice, though, to take a bit of a break. Renewing. Fernando called them 'absorb phases'. I read and observe and take notes, saving it all up for the next time I write.
It actually works, too. I sat down to write a chapter yesterday, and I wrote the longest chapter so far in the shortest amount of time; nearly five thousand words in only three hours. That's remarkable; I haven't written at that speed and efficiency ever, not even in my giant binge this last summer.
I'm feeling pretty good. Confident isn't exactly the right word, because I'm not full of blustering swagger, that almost agressive self-consideration. I'd say I feel . . . calm, maybe. Full of balanced acceptance. This project feels strangely inevitable, and all I can do is continue to do a little more each day. It will happen, in the end. Maybe I won't find an agent or a publishing deal, but the book will be finished. That's a success in itself.
It's a strange feeling after I finish writing for the day. I'm keyed up; I feel like I did after a particularly exciting performance. But at the same time, I'm raw. It's exhausting. I mean, not exhausting in the way physical labor is, but different. It requires focus to channel not only the characters, plot, and relevant detail into a coherent passage, but to tie it all into everything you've done before and everything you haven't done yet.
I wouldn't trade it, though. This is fulfilling work. There is something so perfect about shaping a story. Shaping a world, really. You mold the earth and history, you pepper the stage with characters, breathe life into them with triumphs and flaws. Done right, they play off one another; it's almost as if they propel the narrative on their own. That's hyperbole, of course, but maybe there is a grain of truth; what is a story without good characters?
I was talking with Jesse yesterday about flaws (in characters, and in people). Perfection is boring; no one wants to read about a paragon turning everything he touches to gold. Flaws in your characters create conflict that drives the story forward. It's why 'Mary Sues' and 'Gary Stus' are so reviled in the reader/writer/fan community. More often than not, they're an authors veiled attempt at self-insertion in a life they'd prefer to their own, and it's kind of pathetic. Why is Bella Swan so detested by most? Because aside from some conveniently adorable clumsiness, she's so perfect as to be featureless; a molten lump the author uses to slip into her own story. It's creepy and sad, and the sign of an amateur.
Personally, I love the flaws of a character. And I'm not talking quirks - like clumsiness. I'm talking about aspects of personality that can skew negative. Like selfishness, ambition, pessimism. One of my characters is uncompromising and stubborn to a fault; she sees the world in black and white and cleaves to her ideals. Another character reacts to negative situations with irreverence; he prefers to deflect than to confront. And from these aspects of character, conflict emerges. The old colloquialism goes 'variety is the spice of life' but I'd have to say conflict makes a story more interesting.
So back to work, if you can call telling a story work.
It was nice, though, to take a bit of a break. Renewing. Fernando called them 'absorb phases'. I read and observe and take notes, saving it all up for the next time I write.
It actually works, too. I sat down to write a chapter yesterday, and I wrote the longest chapter so far in the shortest amount of time; nearly five thousand words in only three hours. That's remarkable; I haven't written at that speed and efficiency ever, not even in my giant binge this last summer.
I'm feeling pretty good. Confident isn't exactly the right word, because I'm not full of blustering swagger, that almost agressive self-consideration. I'd say I feel . . . calm, maybe. Full of balanced acceptance. This project feels strangely inevitable, and all I can do is continue to do a little more each day. It will happen, in the end. Maybe I won't find an agent or a publishing deal, but the book will be finished. That's a success in itself.
It's a strange feeling after I finish writing for the day. I'm keyed up; I feel like I did after a particularly exciting performance. But at the same time, I'm raw. It's exhausting. I mean, not exhausting in the way physical labor is, but different. It requires focus to channel not only the characters, plot, and relevant detail into a coherent passage, but to tie it all into everything you've done before and everything you haven't done yet.
I wouldn't trade it, though. This is fulfilling work. There is something so perfect about shaping a story. Shaping a world, really. You mold the earth and history, you pepper the stage with characters, breathe life into them with triumphs and flaws. Done right, they play off one another; it's almost as if they propel the narrative on their own. That's hyperbole, of course, but maybe there is a grain of truth; what is a story without good characters?
I was talking with Jesse yesterday about flaws (in characters, and in people). Perfection is boring; no one wants to read about a paragon turning everything he touches to gold. Flaws in your characters create conflict that drives the story forward. It's why 'Mary Sues' and 'Gary Stus' are so reviled in the reader/writer/fan community. More often than not, they're an authors veiled attempt at self-insertion in a life they'd prefer to their own, and it's kind of pathetic. Why is Bella Swan so detested by most? Because aside from some conveniently adorable clumsiness, she's so perfect as to be featureless; a molten lump the author uses to slip into her own story. It's creepy and sad, and the sign of an amateur.
Personally, I love the flaws of a character. And I'm not talking quirks - like clumsiness. I'm talking about aspects of personality that can skew negative. Like selfishness, ambition, pessimism. One of my characters is uncompromising and stubborn to a fault; she sees the world in black and white and cleaves to her ideals. Another character reacts to negative situations with irreverence; he prefers to deflect than to confront. And from these aspects of character, conflict emerges. The old colloquialism goes 'variety is the spice of life' but I'd have to say conflict makes a story more interesting.
So back to work, if you can call telling a story work.
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