August 11th, 2011%
I brought my latest short story to this year’s Tin House Summer Workshop hoping for an ending.
I had no intention of writing another scene. The characters were going to have to work it out within the bounds of the current version. I had four scenes. A luxury, really, but I just couldn’t break open the main character so she’d take the bait, like the guy, and freak-out at the end. This was the map I wanted to draw.
Everything I threw at these characters was thrown back at me.
- White hot story pacing
- Character banter like battle armor
- Insecurity traps and mind games
- A robbery
After the workshop, the first thing I did was tighten the noose with setting descriptions. This slowed down the dialogue, built a little more tension and helped anchor the reader in the last scene. I couldn’t figure out plot, but I knew they got out of a car and walked so I described that in detail. At least I was fixing something, even if I didn’t know what was supposed to happen at the end.
The main character still wouldn’t break, but the workshop had validated my hunch on where she would break in the banter. I tested those spots after each round of edits. Nothing.
A friend from the workshop reread the draft and suggested that I should draw out the first scene (do more show than tell). This helped set the trap and open up some opportunities. I also spun in some quirks and mind games. Threading them through the story helped me to bust up the banter to show some character vulnerability.
When the character finally broke, I touched up the ending and deleted a lot of the new stuff to get back to the bones of the story. The whole process reminded me of Piranha.
May 12th, 2011%
Dialogue creates white space and movement. I often use it to outline scenes.
At first, it is exciting. I can hear the conversation’s rhythm and volume. I know how the characters feel when they talk to each other and how they move. Intentions are obvious.
I’m not listening to people actually talking. This is all in my head. No green screen visual effects. Nothing visual, at all. I have no sense of their identity, appearance or location. I’m negligent with these details in real life so why would I expect more from my imagination?
All the concrete details which make a story accessible to a reader are missing. I have to do a lot of over-writing to figure out the characters. This is how the story eventually emerges.
Character appearance gets described based on how I feel the other character sees them. The describing character is in a particular mood. I can sense this from what they say. This process results in a more accurate character description for the story that what the character actually looks like.
I never care about eye color or chiseled jaws. I’m better at sensing than seeing. Details are meant for manipulation, at least in storytelling, but I would like to get better at seeing which is why I’ve taken drawing classes.
In drawing, white space and black space are visual equals. Dialogue demands the same equality, but shades of meaning and personality are a little harder to draw.
March 29th, 2011%
When certain characters grow out of the lines I’ve loved, I want to track down a character who can say them in the next story.
These things happen. You’ve designated clear boundaries, idiosyncrasies, and expectations for a character. The beginning of your story is your story. Then, another side of the character emerges somewhere in the middle and finds a better ending than the one you couldn’t think of.
So now, you have to figure out how to edit the beginning to be more consistent with the ending. You start to wonder what kind of character would say these lines. Where do they need to be? Who do they need to know? You’d be happy to arrange it all, if only you knew.
The next story will be your first attempt. It may fail, but it has a beginning.
Rarely, if ever, do I get an urge to meet someone who wrote what I read and loved; however, I will ruthlessly stalk a character willing to deliver some choice lines and possibly give me some more lines like them.
The story will be a negotiation. No losers. No winners. Maybe another story.
February 21st, 2011%
Reading and rereading is critical for editing. Rhythm, patterns, and craft weakness become apparent. Characters become acquaintances rather than an amalgam of intent.
I always reread to the section where I am actively writing, making minor changes to dialogue, description, and action on my way. This generally occurs after wholesale rearrangement of paragraphs and sections, when the bones of the story are in place.
At some point writing becomes editing, and the characters become independent.
A writer can choose to kick-start life at any targeted age, so it’s not like revisions can be calibrated like dog years to yield a certain hoped for maturity; however, the writer is essentially raising their characters through numerous revisions so that the characters start making their own decisions and acting without the writer directing them.
When characters become independent or mature, I know they’re going to take me somewhere cool. The story gets more layers because I get to notice what they notice, rather than guess at what I need to make-up to make something seem realistic.
Maturity shouldn’t be confused with reliable. Characters get lazy. They provide false endings. They disappear during dialogue. The writer still needs to provide discipline and coax the characters to finish the story.
January 4th, 2011%
When you use personal experiences to sketch out an initial draft, you get stuck dealing with your own issues. Writing is theraputic, but you’ve got a story to find and finish.
You can regain momentum. First, decide whether you need to listen to Tina Turner sing What’s Love Got to Do With It or deal with your story. Tina encourages practicality because she knows perms and feathered hair were not just cocaine mirages, they were life lessons for all of us.
I recently used some personal experiences to write a story from the perspective of J. Alfred Prufrock’s female love interest using a contemporary setting while retaining the convention of being in one’s head and being in the moment that runs through the poem.
Here are some things that were preventing me from finishing a draft as well as the methods I used for resolution:
- Main character changes everytime I work on a new draft
Possible Solution: Lock down the character’s value system & use it to guide the story
- Wanting a specific ending
Possible Solution: Define the boundaries of the story to magnify the important part, then write past them in subsequent drafts to steal sentences for use within original boundaries
- Forcing characters to do things that are out of character
Possible Solution: Understand the emotional obstacle course you’ve constructed for the character. Maybe you need a different runner or a different course.
When a story is written based on personal experiences and edited over a long period of time, these solutions become available.
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Writer Loop Official Photographer Jenny Hoover currently lives in Bellingham, WA.
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