Readers in a hurry: skip down the page to THE SECRET.
I just finished James Patterson's 22-part Masterclass. He said not a thing new to me that I've not heard dozens of times before in AW and in fiction-writing books. But it was worth the $90 to me for two reasons.
One, it taught me a little about the man behind the books, someone whom I found to be thoughtful and genuinely wanting to help newcomers to writing. That alone was encouraging to one who's had plenty of doubts about their own desire for a writing career. I was also encouraged when he said one of his most popular books was rejected by 31 publishers. I'd just received the twelfth rejection of my latest book by an agent; this gives me the will to send off another round of queries.
Two, it made me revisit those basic topics: dialogue, character, and so on. Including plotting. James is big on outlining and gave some useful pointers (which you probably have already encountered in AW and elsewhere).
Unfortunately, that last was useless to me. I've tried and failed at outlining, eventually deciding it just was not in my nature. It totally spoils the pleasure I get from improvising: being surprised and usually pleased when I discover (as if reading a stranger's book for the first time) characters or settings or plot twists in my own books.
This forced me to reconsider how I manage to write books (nine so far) by leaping off the cliff into space with the hope I can fly rather than crash. I finally decided that the secret (for me, maybe not for you) is ...
Every one of us has read or otherwise consumed many thousands of stories in our lives. From those we've learned dozens or hundreds of rules for writing, and learned how and when to break them. We apply them every time we write, sometimes intellectually, much more often intuitively.
There is a structure to stories. It was first written down by Aristotle hundred's of years before Christ. He wrote it for plays. Today variations of it is used in every short story, novel, screen or TV play. Even in everyday life, as we chat in the snack room at work or at lunch or (as recently for me) at Thanksgiving.
It's SETUP, DEVELOPMENT, WRAPUP: the three parts of every story. Which you have encountered in AW and elsewhere many times. But bear with me. I'm talking about its use in improvising a story.
Every story begins with a seed: some tiny inspiration that causes us to get excited about a new story. We set about writing it down, maybe on the back of a throwaway menu at a restaurant. Then we set about creating a story from it.
An improviser begins in any part of the three parts of a story. Those few paragraphs, or often (for me) a complete scene, might seem unconnected to anything to an outside observer. But I KNOW where it goes, approximately. My knowledge might be intellectual (I'm an engineer; we're big at that) or much more often intuitive.
That fragment or scene is a piece of a jigsaw puzzle. And I place it on the table close to where it should go chronologically. Knowing that in the final story I may want to move it elsewhere in the stream of text, as a flashback or flashforward or into a piece of dialogue. But more importantly I KNOW its function.
That function might be the trigger incident that causes the main character to decide to launch into a physical or spiritual journey toward some reward (or away from some threat). Or its function might be the deciding struggle that ends the development part of the story, and begins the resolution part. Or it might be closer to the middle of the development part of the story.
Regardless, I now have pinned down a chunk of the story. I might continue to nurture it to a more finished state. Just as often it inspires me to move to a different part of the story and write that. And so it goes till there is a complete story.
I may or may not be done. The jigsaw parts may fit well. Or I may need to do a polish that better fits every thing together. Or even a more extensive rewrite. But whatever the situation I've successfully flown from the cliff edge to a safe landing.
And that's how I can launch off the cliff edge without fear. I've done this nine times before with a book. And dozens of times with shorter stories. All improvised.
I just finished James Patterson's 22-part Masterclass. He said not a thing new to me that I've not heard dozens of times before in AW and in fiction-writing books. But it was worth the $90 to me for two reasons.
One, it taught me a little about the man behind the books, someone whom I found to be thoughtful and genuinely wanting to help newcomers to writing. That alone was encouraging to one who's had plenty of doubts about their own desire for a writing career. I was also encouraged when he said one of his most popular books was rejected by 31 publishers. I'd just received the twelfth rejection of my latest book by an agent; this gives me the will to send off another round of queries.
Two, it made me revisit those basic topics: dialogue, character, and so on. Including plotting. James is big on outlining and gave some useful pointers (which you probably have already encountered in AW and elsewhere).
Unfortunately, that last was useless to me. I've tried and failed at outlining, eventually deciding it just was not in my nature. It totally spoils the pleasure I get from improvising: being surprised and usually pleased when I discover (as if reading a stranger's book for the first time) characters or settings or plot twists in my own books.
This forced me to reconsider how I manage to write books (nine so far) by leaping off the cliff into space with the hope I can fly rather than crash. I finally decided that the secret (for me, maybe not for you) is ...
_______________________________________
THE SECRET is structure.
Every one of us has read or otherwise consumed many thousands of stories in our lives. From those we've learned dozens or hundreds of rules for writing, and learned how and when to break them. We apply them every time we write, sometimes intellectually, much more often intuitively.
There is a structure to stories. It was first written down by Aristotle hundred's of years before Christ. He wrote it for plays. Today variations of it is used in every short story, novel, screen or TV play. Even in everyday life, as we chat in the snack room at work or at lunch or (as recently for me) at Thanksgiving.
It's SETUP, DEVELOPMENT, WRAPUP: the three parts of every story. Which you have encountered in AW and elsewhere many times. But bear with me. I'm talking about its use in improvising a story.
Every story begins with a seed: some tiny inspiration that causes us to get excited about a new story. We set about writing it down, maybe on the back of a throwaway menu at a restaurant. Then we set about creating a story from it.
An improviser begins in any part of the three parts of a story. Those few paragraphs, or often (for me) a complete scene, might seem unconnected to anything to an outside observer. But I KNOW where it goes, approximately. My knowledge might be intellectual (I'm an engineer; we're big at that) or much more often intuitive.
That fragment or scene is a piece of a jigsaw puzzle. And I place it on the table close to where it should go chronologically. Knowing that in the final story I may want to move it elsewhere in the stream of text, as a flashback or flashforward or into a piece of dialogue. But more importantly I KNOW its function.
That function might be the trigger incident that causes the main character to decide to launch into a physical or spiritual journey toward some reward (or away from some threat). Or its function might be the deciding struggle that ends the development part of the story, and begins the resolution part. Or it might be closer to the middle of the development part of the story.
Regardless, I now have pinned down a chunk of the story. I might continue to nurture it to a more finished state. Just as often it inspires me to move to a different part of the story and write that. And so it goes till there is a complete story.
I may or may not be done. The jigsaw parts may fit well. Or I may need to do a polish that better fits every thing together. Or even a more extensive rewrite. But whatever the situation I've successfully flown from the cliff edge to a safe landing.
And that's how I can launch off the cliff edge without fear. I've done this nine times before with a book. And dozens of times with shorter stories. All improvised.
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