Writing – Page 69 – Blue Ink Alchemy

Category: Writing (page 69 of 81)

Writers Are Idiots

You may be looking at that subject line and wondering which terrible screenplay or abominable novel I’m going to discuss. Oh no, you might be lamenting, is this another rant on Meyer? No, it isn’t. I’m not going to be saying any particular writer is an idiot. Except perhaps myself.

I’ve never really wanted a career outside of writing. Some people have gotten into working with their hands right out of high school – they build our houses, maintain our cars, keep our water flowing and run the machines that give us light at night. Other people went to business school and studied science and busted their asses to get into a career. Neither of those options ever really appealed to me. Since I was a kid I’ve lived inside my head and I’ve wanted nothing more than to show others the worlds that drive me to distraction and get paid for it. Pretty idiotic, wouldn’t you say?

There are plenty of other, better ways to make money. If I’d really applied myself to my programming from the outside, I’d probably be making about twice what I make now in that field. I wouldn’t be struggling to make ends meet. I wouldn’t be passing up great opportunities to get my work seen, critiqued and commented upon because I can’t afford a night’s stay at a hotel. I know what I could do to have a more comfortable lifestyle, but I refuse to do it. Idiotic.

Then again, village idiots weren’t necessarily immediately considered worthless. They contributed to the social fabric of the village. They made children laugh. They made adults think, sometimes, or at least appreciate their more comfortable situations. And for doing this, they were taken care of – bread, shelter, water to drink and occasionally some clothes that weren’t torn up and smelling of shit. They didn’t have to pay anything for them. While others in the village toiled in the field or on rooftops with shingles or stood guard in the hot sun, the village idiot was just allowed to be him or herself.

Who’s really the bigger idiot, there?

Unfortunately I can’t argue outright stupidity in my case. Sure, I’m a dumbass from time to time. I can neglect to plan ahead. I’ve never quite gotten a grip on the most effective way to use this shoestring on which I and my family are living. It’s likely that my biggest claim to idiocy is this notion I have that, sooner or later, things will work themselves out and I’ll be able to pursue my desired career without needing a dayjob. To some, that’s optimism. To others, it’s idiocy.

And you know what? I’m okay with that.

If being dedicated to writing for a living (and fiction at that) and finding a way to do so as my primary and perhaps sole means of income makes me an idiot, then slap a dunce cap on me and I’ll go cavort in the village square. I’ll be proud to do it, too. I’d prefer telling off-color jokes to random passersby and juggling horse turds to false smiles and sales-oriented gamesmanship.

Nobody ever said chasing your dragons was easy. But when you wear shining armor, keep a white horse and fancy yourself something resembling a knight, what the hell else are you going to do? America doesn’t have a monarch and I don’t have any peasants to oppress.

Spoons and Pens

August 31, 2010 / BlueInkAlchemist / 0 Comments

Some of the brightest and most memorable women I’ve known have dealt with long-term, incurable and nearly debilitating illnesses. Two in particular have introduced me to a particular way of dealing with these obstacles known as “the spoon theory.” Christine Miserandino explains the theory in detail here, but let me provide you with the Cliff’s notes.

Every task and undertaking over the course of a day, no matter how mundane it might seem, incurs a cost. In this case, each task costs you a spoon. Some of us have a silverware drawer full of spoons of various sizes. Go through that drawer, and every time you do something during the day – get out of bed, take a shower, clean up the home, go to work, do a task at work, cook something – toss a spoon over your shoulder. You’d end up with a big pile of spoons on the floor and, in my case, at least one very confused-looking housecat.

Now imagine you only have seven spoons.

Or five.

Or three.

Kind of drives home the importance of spending one’s time wisely, if you ask me.

At times I need to remind myself that I can’t write everything I want to. I’d love to finish my manuscript’s edits, start a new one, write a screenplay, send more pitches to the Escapist. But I only have so much time over the course of the day. To extend the aforementioned metaphor, I have only a few pens with which to write every day. When they’re out of ink, they’re gone.

Some days, I have more pens than others. It could be a weekend, a holiday, a sick day. Ah, but will I use those pens wisely, or write something that has no lasting value, like a character drabble for a game or a navel-gazing blog post? And the more time I spend on other tasks or pursuits – unpacking long-packed boxes, playing a game, you name it – the fewer pens I have.

Now, I’m not saying that all writers suffer from an illness. I mean, it’s entirely possible that we do, but the writing itself isn’t an affliction. Unless you ask Heinlein. Then again, maybe he was on to something. It’d explain why I only get food poked in my direction at the end of a long stick through a slot in the door.

All I’m saying is, creative folk should look to spend their creative time wisely. We only have so many hours in a day and we can’t do all we’d like in those hours. It’s important to have goals, set expectations, mark milestones. The more we get into the habit in managing the use and expenditure of our limited pens, the better our work will be and the more we’ll get accomplished over all.

Those are my thoughts, at least. What are yours?

Get Back On The Horse

August 30, 2010 / BlueInkAlchemist / 0 Comments

The phrase “get back on the horse” usually refers to someone getting “thrown” from said horse. A tragedy occurs, a heart is broken, a house burns down or a car is totaled – it’s something that throws the individual in question completely out of whack. Equilibrium is shot. The status quo’s out the window. The only way to get back on track is to get back on the horse, even if it just threw you.

However, it’s not just the earth-shattering events that cause us to leave the back of our steeds. Sometimes, things just stop for a bit. The horse needs water or caught a rock in their hoof. We swing down from the saddle, tend to the horse, and take some time for ourselves as well, to grab a bite or take in the scenery. I’m speaking metaphorically, of course, but the bottom line is we stop our progress in our journey.

One of my favorite Westerns of recent years is Hidalgo, and not just because Viggo Mortensen’s in it. Towards the end, Frank (Viggo’s character) goes through a somewhat trippy sequence. He and Hidalgo have fought tooth and nail to persevere in the punishing race across the desert, and the horse is so exhausted that Frank considers putting his companion down. However, he experiences admonitions from his Lakota ancestors to finish the journey and that he and his horse need each other. Emerging from the dream, Frank turns to see Hidalgo on his feet and waiting for the rather thick human to get back on so they can win the damn race. (If you haven’t seen this film, it’s a lot of fun and a classic adventure steeped in Western trappings, so check it out. Also, horses!)

Our desires and dreams are a bit like that horse. We might think that they’re daunting or even impossible to complete. We may exhaust ourselves trying to pursue them at the same time we struggle to make ends meet and address practical matters of living in the modern age. Bills need to be paid, clients need to be appeased, debts need to be settled and obligations need to be met. A lot of needs shove and yank us hither and yon, leaving little energy for ourselves. Sometimes we don’t want to put that energy into something that seems like it’ll go nowhere, considering there are tons of others out there already doing what we wish we could. Better to bear those ills we have, etc.

Besides, a lot of creative people including myself are a bit like magpies. We may want to get from A to B but between those two points are shiny things. New movies, favorite games, comfortable stories and old favorites. We flit to and fro in our free time, especially if we’ve spent ourselves on a creative effort that is either seems too daunting or returns little gratification. The keyboard, the controller, the popcorn bucket, the remote for the TV – they’re security blankets, things to cling to when the phone calls from collectors begin and we want to just forget about deadlines for a while.

But we get a nudge. Like an impatient horse standing behind us whose gotten their water and taken some time to rest their hooves, our desires don’t leave us alone. We can’t stay in idyllic wilderness settings forever. We’re on a journey, here. And while the journey itself is often just as interesting as the destination, if not moreso, we won’t reach our goals if we stand in the middle of the field staring at them. We have to move there. We have to make the effort. We have to get back on the horse.

It could be argued that a lot of this “writer’s block” stuff comes from us blocking ourselves. It’s an excuse to stop expending effort, burn a little less lean tissue, invite less stress into our lives. I stopped work on Acradea to finish the Blizzard contest entry, and then… played more Warcraft. Got some fresh air. Saw Scott Pilgrim. Cheered for the Union. And it was fun, refreshing and relaxing.

But my manuscript’s still here. It’s waiting for me. If it were a horse, it’d be looking at me somewhat impatiently. It wants to move forward, continue the journey, get to a place where it can be hand-fed some damn oats by a pretty farmer’s daughter. It’s not going to get there while I stand around wool-gathering.

For my part, it’s past time to get back on the horse. Have you had moments like that? Has a project, a work in progress, given you a mental nudge to remind you it’s still there? Have you ever taken a break for longer than you expected, only to find you need to pull yourself back into working on it?

The Truth About Tropes

August 27, 2010 / BlueInkAlchemist / 0 Comments

If you’re at all associated with the Internet, beyond referring to it as “a series of tubes,” you’re probably away of a little site called TV Tropes. Caveat Browser: This site will eat your free-time like a starving man at an all-you-can-eat buffet. Anyway, a lot of the things listed on the site also list examples of places where things go totally wrong or depict a work in a satirical or sarcastic manner. You might come to think that the things on the site are things to be avoided, for fear of derision, ridicule or the simple notion that your work might suffer because of their presence.

They have a whole page on this subject, under Tropes Are Tools: Tropes Are Not Bad.

First of all, you can’t avoid them. Even if you say to yourself as you write, “This is X or Y trope,” chances are you’ve already written at least two other tropes into your work. Something that you considered entirely original will probably be pointed out as a trope and listed as such on the aforementioned site. Even if it’s pointed out as a ‘bad’ thing or ‘overused’, at least somebody’s reading your work, right?

Moreover, it’s entirely possible to use tropes well, or turn them on their heads. Look at Watchmen or Kick-Ass. Something that has its cool factor emphasized or the humor level turned up to eleven isn’t necessarily a bad work. In fact, such things can be rather successful if done right.

Finally, the existence of this trope listing serves a repository for quite a few cautionary tales on how not to do it. Consciously or unconsciously, if you see something listed on a trope page that reminds you of your work, and not in a good way, on that same page you can find examples of how the trope is done well, so you can see how to change your work to make it go down a different path than where it goes currently. Specifically, the path that rocks.

Take a look at TV Tropes. Browse around. Look up stories you like and stories you hate. Just let someone know you’re going in. Use the buddy system. And for God’s sake, don’t forget to eat something.

Care For, Then Conceal, Your Strings

August 25, 2010 / BlueInkAlchemist / 0 Comments

You’ve heard it before. “Start your story as late as possible.” It’s good advice. Get your reader right into the action. Paragraph one on page one, WHAM. They’re neck deep in narrative. In medias res, even. Get them asking questions, and promise answers right around the corner to keep things moving. All good stuff.

Unfortunately, you can’t drop into the story yourself, as a writer, out of nowhere. It’s extremely rare for an idea to spring fully formed from your cranium and immediately make itself coherent on the page. Characters need motivation. Settings need history. Present events should be informed by previous ones. You need to do some planning. Puppets, after all, don’t just drop onto the stage and start cavorting about. They need strings, and you need to make sure those strings are taut and untangled.

The audience, on the other hand, never needs to see the strings.

Take a character from a work. That character came from somewhere. They had parents, or creators, or something along those lines. Maybe they’re an experiment that started before the story begins. Maybe they’ve been kicked out of an organization or Heaven or the local book club. They might have loved and lost, or maybe a candle still burns for someone. This is all stuff to figure out beforehand.

Once you do, though, it’s not necessary to show it to the audience. The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit would not exist without the history and stories set down by Tolkien in The Silmarillion, but those notes might not necessarily make for good reading. Die hard fans will definitely get a kick out of that sort of thing, but at first blush, it’s cluttering up the narrative and over-complicating the characters. Hook the reader with clear, concise action and dialog first before you delve into the background stories, if you do at all.

Character bibles are good tools to use here. Get the stuff out of your head and into a format you can reference, but that doesn’t seep into the finished work. When it comes to trimming fat, trim things discussed in your notes that don’t necessarily need to be brought up in the story. Simplify, simplify, simplify.

I think I’m starting to ramble rather than dispense good advice at this point, so let me hear from you. How do you keep your strings cared for but concealed from the audience? What works for you? What doesn’t? What are some other examples of this sort of thing?

Category: Writing (page 69 of 81)

Writers Are Idiots

Spoons and Pens

Get Back On The Horse

The Truth About Tropes

Care For, Then Conceal, Your Strings

Buy This Book!

Search the Blog

Recent Posts

Getcher Updates!

Works

Legal Stuff

Categories

Archives