Mwarriage

Mwarriage is what brings us here today. Or, rather, a discussion of it. To expand on this post at my blog from July, I'd like to reiterate something.

I do not think books are our babies.

That metaphor made sense to me at first, but the more I thought about it, the more it bothered me. I don't feel like I give birth to books; my process is one of excavation, chipping away pieces, discovering something full-formed beneath, uncovering layers. Further, I have manuscript graveyards with partially finished things, random ideas, and one does not leave children in partial stages of development scattered about the house, tucked in drawers and under the couch. I mean, one can, but it's not the sign of a good parent, now is it?

No, for me books are relationships.

Sometimes I see an idea or it sees me. We eye one another from across the room. Flirt with the possibility of it going further.

Or not...

I may write a few thousand words, sort of like going on a date to see if we're a match. Writing a book requires time and commitment--months if not years. Especially if you go the whole way and end up in a series. There will be good times and bad, days when you can't stand each other and question what the hell you're doing. Like all relationships, writing a book requires communication and a willingness to sit down and do the work.

Sometimes you get pretty far but there's no fixing things and you need a divorce. Sometimes separating for a few months and then you come back anew. There are lightning-fast relationships where just days pass between flirting, engagement, and eventually marriage as you know this one's for real and you can go the distance. Other books are a slow burn, going from friends to lovers over time.

I am a slutty, slutty polygamist. I have a lot of book relationships. I'm choosier now than I used to be but I still over-commit and struggle to give as much as I can to each of them. And no matter how committed I am, when a Shiny New Idea flaunts in my peripheral vision, I am right there. Part of getting older, though, is that I don't have patience for ideas that waste my time. I evaluate what comes to me, weigh it, and decide whether or not it's worth the investment.

The point of this post, however, goes back to a conversation I had with a writer friend the other day.

While my literary self is a polygamist, my human-dating-self is a monogamous, mate-for-life, gunshy dating newb. From a young age, I spent ten years with the same man, all during my formative dating years when I should've been figuring out who I am and who is compatible with me. So now I'm thirty-one with the dating-mind of a fifteen-year-old.

Part of the benefit of dating widely is developing an intuition for people, for knowing the signs of who is worth the time commitment from you, and what you think could grow into something long term.

So it is with books.

This is why I think it's important for writers to write a hell of a lot. To explore various ideas, to play, to spend time in different worlds. It's okay if those ideas don't go anywhere; one of the skills no one talks about but is absolutely necessary for a writer is learning to intuitively know what ideas are going to work long term and what ones should be discarded. To see past the Shiny New Idea to the core of the story and whether the temptation to play with it will be worth it in the long run.

I don't believe this is something we are born with; we learn by doing. We learn by making mistakes with The Wrong One and trying again. If you've been writing for a long time on only one thing and you look around at all of these other people with a couple different series on the go, it's not that you're broken or a one trick pony. It's just a skill you haven't fully developed yet, like every other writing skill.

The longer you've been at something, the harder it is, IMO, to let got and allow yourself the room to make mistakes. But it's that trial and error where we develop intuition and it requires the same time as learning grammar, pacing, structure, and everything else.

If this is an area you have trouble with, here is my suggestion: have a trial separation from your WIP. Then go on dates. Either try writing prompts or start playing the What If? game. If you have peripheral ideas, maybe commit to trying NaNoWriMo with them, or take a week where you write 1K a day on the idea. It doesn't have to go anywhere. Let me repeat that for emphasis: it doesn't have to go anywhere. This is a dating exercise for you and you alone, not publishers or crit groups or betas. Just you.

It's hard at first. Like going out on dates and meeting new people when you'd much rather sit home with your cats. But if you show up every day and give the other ideas a chance, rewiring your brain little by little, it'll not just open the possibility of loving other stories as much as you love your current one, but it'll give you skills you can take back to your current WIP. We learn something from every story we write just as we learn from each person we meet.

I'd go on but I'm afraid I can't; there's another Idea across the room. His lips are quirking into a flirty grin.

My heart is going pitter-patter. You guys, I think this might be The One...

Editing 101 with Mama Bitchstress: Scribe vs Messenger

As I said (warned?) last post, I'm going to do a collection of editing-related posts since editing's part of my day job and it's kinda important and stuff for writers to know. Some posts will be practical, nuts and bolts type things. Some will be theory.

This is the latter. In fact, it's the principle behind all of editing, IMO.

One of the things I most hear writers say (myself included) is how characters run away with the story; I personally have described my writing process as excavation more than creation. When you're delivering that first draft in particular, it's natural--normal, I think--to feel you are a reporter or a scribe, following the characters wherever they lead, barely seeing ahead of you like the headlights of a car unable to permeate the dark, foggy road on which you drive.

The problem comes afterward when this is used as an excuse for any criticism: "That's just the way my characters are/I didn't control where the story went/etc."

It is fine to be a scribe for the first draft, but afterward your role shifts to that of messenger.

Before you can revise, before you can get critiques or edits, you need to know what you are trying to convey.

You need to know what motivations drive all characters, not just your POV ones. You need to know how you want your reader to feel about the world, the people who populate it, and the things they go through, and this is true for all aspects of the story. Your job is to communicate with the reader.

This is why grammar and spelling are important: following the "rules" doesn't make you less of an artist, it makes you more effective at communicating. Giving your work structure doesn't lessen the artistic merit of the work, it makes the story more palatable for the reader. Ensuring your heroine's sympathetic qualities are clear on the page isn't changing your character, it's making the reader root for her the way you do. Cutting (or adding) scenes for pacing isn't murdering your baby, it's to keep the reader engaged.

I can't tell you how many times over the years I have seen writers refuse changes requested for clarity's sake because they insist the characters are just behaving the way they do and they don't really know why, and that scene must stay there although it advances nothing, because they are ARTISTES! DAMN IT! Like somehow delving in and knowing what it is you're trying to communicate lessens the magic of storytelling.

Sometimes it's laziness, but other times I genuinely think writers believe this: that crafting, during revision, and taking things apart to ensure they're put together right kills the soul of the work. But it does quite the opposite, and while you can certainly over-revise (more another day), what normal revision does is allows the reader to see the soul as you do.

Otherwise this story that you have worked so damn hard on is just a big, shapeless lump that isn't pretty and that people can't understand--you have to speak for it, and you have to do it effectively.

Like the Log Lady in Twin Peaks.

Because that is your job when you're in it for publication. Readers pay your bills; readers drive the industry. And they don't live in your head, they don't know what you know, and your ability to communicate with them is just as important as the story you are telling.

So your first step with whatever your revising is to break it down scene by scene, character arc by character arc, sentence by sentence, word by word, and ask yourself, "What am I trying to communicate here?"

If you don't know, I'd suggest taking a long walk just thinking about the story or talking it out with someone because you can't go any further.

If you do know...now the real work starts.

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