One moment of joy can be like a shield against the world and all the hardships and adversity that seem all too common these days. That moment can sooth the soul and replenish the heart if we let it.
In the end it is our choice if we let it. Do we let go of the anger and hatred and negativity? Or do we cling to them and cloud our hearts so that we cannot see that single moment that could offer us a safe harbor?
The world may be harsh.
But we choose how we respond and what we keep in our hearts.
Just a few writing articles I’ve come across recently that I liked
Some visually stimulating things. I especially like the one about the buildings . . . makes me wish I was writing some kind of future dystopian fiction because these would be perfect settings. The other is some art I just really liked. Art helps me write . . .it’s like fuel for thoughts.
I outline in a weird way. I have come to this epiphany after reading how other people do it and realized, the way that works for me is. . . .odd. I am a visual creature. When I am writing I see in my mind things and then try and describe what I am seeing. By the time a story is done or, hopefully, my first novel, I have seen it as a movie in my head over and over, each time with slight little tweaks and bits changed. But I see it and that is how my brain works.
I’ve tried the note card method, the free writing method, the rigidly formatted method and none work for me.
What does work for me are sizes, colors, and spreading things out. I start with rather large (11 x 14) paper. On these pieces are the main big fu-fu parts of the story, the things that must happen to propel the story to its end. This is not only the standard turning points of a three act story but also things that I want to be major that make the story make sense to me. Once I have those written down I begin to pin them in order on the wall with thumb tacks.
Next I take 8.5 x 11 sheets, usually a different color than the big white sheets. These are scenes and they are written out in a random order. I need to know why the story goes from point A (the beginning) to point Z (the ending) and for me that is not a linear process. Each big paper is looked at and I replay the things around it in the movie in my mind. I look to see what details I need to make it happen and make it logical (even in a non-logic based urban fantasy setting). I spread out my thoughts from there, slowly weaving what has to have happened prior to each point to what should happen after another point.
The reason I do this bit is to get the scenes as I want them in my head. It is not an absolute for me. Often I pull the tacks out and stuff them in another place. I am also usually too lazy to respreads all the papers so I can tend to get clumps of papers all shoved into one small place. That is ok for me. That visual lets me know that particular area is important to the movie in my head.
Once I have the scenes, the steps from one fu-fu to the next, done I take out the post it notes. Yellow is for name ideas or object ideas. Purple is for emotional aspects I want to bring out. Green is for important information I need to have expressed by then. Blue is for back story that needs to be told by that point for it to be logical. Pink is for action bits. Orange is for questions I have not answered yet.
Now I stand back and look at the chaotic mess I have made all over the living room. Thing is though, it is not chaotic to me. I see the sizes, shapes, colors as the thoughts I am trying to organize. I keep adding post-it notes until I can’t think of anything more but I don’t put them away. If I do, I will have to grab them out again in no time, never fails.
Now I start to tell myself the story, usually out loud. I tell the story just like you’d describe a movie you saw to someone else and I challenge myself on the validity of the logic for everything that is not based in physics or just common sense. Anything that is a dramatic element of the story is challenged like a parent questioning a late child about where they’ve been. I try and poke holes in my head-movie. I try and draw conclusions to spoil the ending. I try and tear the story apart and sometimes it works. Sometimes I realize “That is just stupid” and then I grab up the post its and start to figure out a way to make it not stupid.
Sometimes at this point I rip up some of the 8.5×11 sheets and figure out a different set of steps to get from fu-fu to fu-fu. Sometimes I rearrange things so they make more sense and line up more with the movie. I add post-its as needed until I feel “Ok, this is what I am seeing and it makes sense”.
Then I leave it alone. I go off and do something else and leave the mess tacked to the wall. When I return I start over and think of the movie in my head. I see how it lines up to the mess on the walls and I try and find big holes in the whole thing. I do this for days and I keep adding little bits or moving things or taking things away until one day I look at the mess and I see it. I see the movie in my head.
Then I start writing it all down in an outline to make sure I don’t lose anything.
But it is all seeing it for me. It is all about seeing what I see in my mind in a mass of colored paper and thumb tacks and only then, when I have poked at it for a long time can I start to write it down and make sure I remember it. I have to see it first.
That’s how I outline.
I always thought we were like a puzzle box. Intricate and crafted so as to be a challenge to understand but with a core secret little space inside us that we choose what we carry forward with us through life. I was sure of this as a matter of fact and would tell people this philosophy with confidence that what I was telling them was the absolute truth.
Then I was writing my first novel and things I wrote reminded me of things I had long ago forgotten. Emotions I was crafting into my character resonated within me and brought back echoes of phantoms from pages past. Not actual events but mirrors, shadows of things . . . Feelings and thoughts that I would have sworn I had thrown out years ago.
I was wrong.
Writing has been a catharsis in a way. Not that anything is lost or purged . . . Quite the contrary as a matter of fact. We are not a box to hold life experiences in like tiny bits of treasure hidden away but a notebook of all that has been. We are a notebook with a thousand different starting and stopping points and a multitude of covers and ways to open it from different angles and different sides. We carry it all with us.
Everything stays . . . we move on. Like reading a novel, the words at the start do not vanish as you read, we just turn the page. Life is like that. Except in life’s notebook the chapters can be inline or they can be at complete right angles or opposite sides or anything between. They can even be all of the above and other things we can’t describe. Forwards, backwards, sideways. . . we turn the pages however we want to.
The bad we turn the page on and leave behind. The good we carry forward to the next page with us to continue the narrative. Nothing is thrown away though. Blacken it with ink, color it with bright swirls or paste pictures over it. . .it will still be there. Rip it out and the absence will be there like a negative image. You will know what is there by seeing what is not and in that way, it will be there.
We need not look back at those things we prefer to leave behind and they need not color the next page if we choose to move on but, they are there.
So, I was wrong. We do not choose what we carry with us because it is all in the notebook of our life. Nothing is thrown out, nothing discarded, nothing erased. . . but . . .
We choose what we carry forward to the next page.
At 62,500 words in my first novel and finally getting into the 3rd act. Written several thousand new words a day for the past few days. . . and several thousand more ripped out and rewritten. . .so averaging over 3500 words a day. . .watched a humorous side-note kind of character become a major influence on the story. . .didn’t see that coming. . . accidentally discovered the critical flaw of the hero and how he overcomes it. . . . but I am finally rounding the bend to the climax of the book where the big fu fu action happens and the really cool thing is. . . .my biggest problem now is not being able to type as fast as I see it play out in my mind. The pieces all fit in place and make sense.
I have come to a terrifyingly profound epiphany. . . .
. . . were it not for spell checker I would be basically, functionally illiterate
How the heck did Twain or Poe write all of this by hand? Dear God . . .this is just the first draft!
So a long time ago I taught martial arts. I used to tell my students (mostly kids) to not worry about dorfing a kick or punch. Dorfing was my term for screwing up badly. . . everyone dorfs a kick in training but if you focus on the mistake, you never move on and learn from it. This was a lesson I drilled into their heads class after class but, as it turns out, I didn’t really listen to myself.
When I write I agonize on getting the wording just right. I take great pains in the setup and flow of each scene to the point when I can paralyze myself. I see a dorf and I become obsessed with trying to fix it. I become unable to move forward until I perceive it as being just right.
So last night I am writing one of the big action scenes in my novel and, once again, I become fixated on getting it perfect until I realized, I am Uber Dorfing. . . .that is the term for being fixated on one’s dorfing. I realized that I am going to have to rewrite this book another 2 or 3 times at least. If I dangle a participle or trip and insert a double negative, life as I know it will not end. The world will continue to spin and I can, most importantly, fix it later.
It sounds silly I imagine to many, but the ability to forgive my dorfs made the words flow. I didn’t worry if they were perfect words, they were close enough for hand grenades and that is all I can really expect from a first draft.
Just thought I’d share the epiphany.