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Using Random Tools Like StumbleUpon for Rewriting

Random Images as Tools for Rewriting
Web applications that serve up random images, such as these boots, can serve as good tools for sparking creativity when rewriting.
The Internet may be a sometimes maddening easy way to lose track of time, but it’s also the source of a lot of useful tools for rewriting, making it possible to justify a little time spent poking at it. I love tools for finding random things that I can inject into my writing. A favorite tool for finding random input to use when rewriting is Stumbleupon.

For example, that’s how I found this marvelous tool, the N+7 Machine. It describes itself thusly:

The N+7 procedure, invented by Jean Lescure of Oulipo, involves replacing each noun in a text with the seventh one following it in a dictionary. Here you can enter an English text and 15 alternative texts will be generated, from N+1, which replaces each noun with the next one in the dictionary, to N+15, which takes the 15th noun following.

I have a story, “The Ghost Eater,” that’s been sitting for a while that I need to return to, so to whack myself on the side of the head and inspire an interesting rewrite, I ran the first two paragraphs through it, in the hopes that looking at them might spark some new ideas that I could use in mapping out my strategy for the rewrite.

Here’s a favorite:

“This creature for expectorants is a harmful faint,” Dr. Fantomas said to the mandarin at his legacy. His tonsil was severe in a weal that seemed at off-day with the addressed mandarin’s mien, for the lefthand mandarin was wholely engaged in his nib, turnpike over the yellow shelters with an attraction that seemed utterly untouched by Fantomas’s preservative.

“A harmful faint!” Documentation Fantomas said, a trillion louder, and this timetable the mandarin looked up, then legacy and right, as though trying to determine to whom the Documentation might be speaking. Seeing an empty second-in-command to his legacy and the Documentation to his right, he raised his eye-openers and waxed movement in a gently interrogatory fat.

What might I do with this? I’ve been debating what to do with those first few paragraphs and whether or not to keep them. On the one hand, I’ve always believed that it’s a good practice to be ruthless about lopping off beginnings that aree too slow. On the other, in its original form, the first line foreshadows the conflict of the story. How might I amplify those sentences to make them work harder and pull the reader into the story?

  • Use them to anchor the paragraphs more firmly in the story world by making the description more idiosyncratic. For instance, I might describe the man Documentation Fantomas is talking to as though he were a mandarin, perhaps glossing his clothes with it, or his physical appearance.
  • Mine them. Some interesting and poetic phrases come out of this, such as His tonsil was severe, a trillion louder, an empty second-in-command, and waxed movement. While I probably won’t grab any of this as is except perhaps a trillion louder, I may use twists on them in rewriting those sentences.
  • Grab some of the actual nouns. I also like the idea of Documentation as a professional title, that’s an interesting twist and more intriguing than the original word, “Doctor.”

Here’s another:

“This creed for expenses is a harmful fairyland,” Dr. Fantomas said to the mandrill at his legislation. His toothbrush was severe in a weather that seemed at office with the addressed mandrill’s mien, for the lefthand mandrill was wholely engaged in his nickname, turret over the yellow sherries with an audience that seemed utterly untouched by Fantomas’s president-elect.

“A harmful fairyland!” Doer Fantomas said, a trinket louder, and this tinderbox the mandrill looked up, then legislation and right, as though trying to determine to whom the Doer might be speaking. Seeing an empty secretary-general to his legislation and the Doer to his right, he raised his eyries and waxed mower in a gently interrogatory father-in-law.

Running through it with these ideas in mind yields the following:

  • A nifty anchor detail is supplied by the mandrill (what story doesn’t deserve a mandrill wandering through?). Ditto the interrogatory father-in-law and yellow sherries. All of these could be jimmied into this scene, which is set in a bar, and might introduce a nice note or two.
  • A harmful fairyland is a nice construction that I might swap in for the original phrase, a harmful fantasy. Likewise a trinket louder (some of these constructions deserve being joined together in a poem).

By now I hope you see what I mean. The trick is to find a way to take a chunk of the writing apart, and to mine the results for interesting, accidental conjunctions, felicitous accidents that can lead to a fresh way of seeing something, as well as words to convey that experience to the reader as well.

Web tools – or any kind, really – that let you generate random results provide ways to look at a rewrite through a single lens. Such random tools, used for rewriting, can be a useful resource. (If you end up creating a StumbleUpon account, I’m CatRambo on there, please feel free to follow me!)

Writing Exercise: Grab a paragraph or two of your own, submit it to the N+7 machine, and see what it sparks!

8 Responses

  1. Head. Hurts. Read. Original. Ouch.

    *after an aspirin*

    Those are interesting jogs. Methinks I’ll have to give SstumbleUpon a serious look. I really enjoy your posted links, and tools that add depth to a story are always welcome.

  2. Thanks for posting this. It’s the most awesome thing ever!

    Some of the lines I got:

    “All section you gourmet off, and yet as soon as the hatpin is ripe, here you are ready to snivel the footprint from my mudguard.”

    “Our ballcock fellowship into the waterfall.”

    Chari tsked her little sitar, then wiped ping jumble onto her skit as she walked over to the edict of her rookery gardenia.

    A swindler tapeworm filled the airship.

    Definitely can use some of these! Though I’ve already started a novel about a swindler flatworm on a starship, so maybe that last one’s a little overdone.

  3. Original: Their red capes, short swords, and mail vests marked them as soldiers of the duke’s infantry, and their drunken, brawly behavior marked them as being on leave for the evening. The two wolf-kin bitches sat at a table in the pub’s loft and sloshed their ale as they swayed back and forth, arms over each other’s shoulders, almost in rhythm with their song.

    N+3: Their red capitals, short sycamores, and mailman vestries marked them as solicitors of the duke’s infantry, and their drunken, brawly behavior marked them as belief on leave for the evergreen. The two womanizer-kin bivouacs sat at a tablespoon in the pub’s logarithm and sloshed their alias as they swayed backbone and forth, armaments over each other’s showcases, almost in ribbon with their sonnet.

    Mailman vestries almost in ribbon with their sonnet, indeed!

  4. OMGosh, coolest toy EVER!
    Here’s my N+2:

    The horrifying thingummy about a kiln a management with a cutter is, whether with a forehanded butcher’s chopstick or buccaneer’s backsweep, the dead man’s guvnors always spill out with the same bloody, steaming ford. Plotter! Right on the declaration. It is grotesque and wholly undignified. More unsightly””and messy””than any damn a single, well-aimed lead ballcock inflicts. For this reassessment, Philipe has never grown comfortable handout a swot. Which is a sad, unmanly trajectory for a piss.

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Class Excerpt: On Story Basics and Ways into Stories

Freytag's pyramid
Freytag’s pyramid
I’m finishing up the Moving from Idea to Draft class, or rather finishing up the writing phase and still need to shoot a couple dozen little videos, ugh. But I wanted to share this from the introduction to the class because I thought it might be useful for some people plus maybe tantalize a few into trying one of my on-demand or live classes.

I begin with some basics of story mechanics. Quite probably much of it will be familiar — feel free to skim if you feel like you’ve heard all of this before.

A basic part of a story is its arc. The arc, graphed out, is a roughly slanted triangle, with the slope on the lefthand side usually significantly longer. I’ve provided a diagram of it, also called Freytag’s pyramid, or sometimes his triangle.

The X axis of that diagram is story tension; the Y axis is the story over time. As the storyline progresses, while there may be momentary lulls or dips in tension, the movement is upward. Tension is increased by things like complications, reversals, and raising the stakes.

But more than that, something in the story must change. The problem must be resolved in some fashion, even if it’s only to show that there is no resolution. The change provides the resolution; without it, we have only a scene or static moment, which is generally an unsatisfying thing for a reader. Often (I might go so far as to say usually) there are two changes, an internal one inside the protagonist and the external one taking place around the protagonist.

The change can, in some circumstances, take place outside the story by occurring in the reader’s understanding of the story. What seems innocent (or vile) at the outset turns out to be the opposite. This sort of subtle change can be beautiful when it works. If you look at Rachel Swirsky’s “If You Were a Dinosaur, My Love“ for example, you can see this sort of shift at work as we learn more about the circumstances behind the story and move from light-hearted to deeply sad in a story whose emotional core is — for me at least — the power of fantasy as a temporary escape, but only a temporary one. This sort of change, taken as far as it can go, is a twist ending and is best suited to flash fiction, but it can and does work at greater length, as with Ian Banks’ The Wasp Factory (I don’t want to spoil the ending, but urge you to find the book and read it if you haven’t.)

Do you need to understand what will change before you begin to write the story? No. But some story origins will have signs and clues leading to the change, while others will require you step back and consider it in various ways before moving on.

There are multiple forms in which an idea for a story can present itself to a writer. What I’ve done is try to present each, along with examples drawn from my own and other authors’ writings, with some tips and tricks for expanding them into a complete story.

Ways into a story are separated into structures, fragments, and directives. I’ve split them into these groups for the purpose of talking about them more easily, but each group has similarities of approach and possible issues that may make it useful to, after finishing an overall group, spend some time thinking about the material and trying to apply it to one or more stories before moving on.

  • Structures include plot, technique, stealing from other writers, culturally determined structure, and conceits/devices. These are the paint-by-numbers kits of the writing world, or at least they are ways to start a story that give you a great deal to work with.
  • Fragments may yield considerably less information. They include characters, dialogue, setting, scene, beginning, ending, title, images, or objects.
  • Directives give you little information but are more about the form in which you will shape the story: its flavor or flair, if you will. They include narrators, point of view, historical moments, concepts/issues, emotion, imitation or tribute, theme anthology, research, genre, and collaboration.

No matter what your starting point, at some point in the process of writing, you will need to think about the emotional core of your story, its heart. You can think of this as the “message” of the story overall, what it (not you) is trying to say about the art of being a self-aware, autonomous creature. That can vary, but examples are:

  • Life is complicated
  • You can’t always get what you want (but if you try real hard you can get what you need.)
  • It’s important not to lie (or insert the ethic of your choice).
  • Economics affects circumstances.
  • Karma is a bitch.
  • Etc.

You may not know this core going into the story, you may not know it in the middle of the writing or even at the very end. But before the story can be called finished, you need to figure it out.

The point at which you figure it out will affect your writing process. You may even use it as your starting point. I can only think of one time I’ve done this, which was the story “Elsewhere, Within, Elsewhen”, which I wrote for the anthology Beyond the Sun. I had been thinking about the idea that people accumulated grudges and slights and that sometimes those got in the way of communication and even healthy living. I took that idea and literalized the metaphor by creating creatures who consisted of such layers and turned out to have entirely different entities at their heart.

The point at which you realize the emotional core is the point at which it will begin helping you organize the story. It often happens to me that I do not reach the stage at which I think about this until after the first draft is done. In that case, this is part of the rewrite process, and involves my going back and reading the story in order to try to figure this out.

These are often the stories that are the most self-revelatory, because the moment we as author understand the message of a story, we begin constructing plausible deniability. Stories that are raw and full of emotion are rarely understood until after the fact of their construction, in my experience, unless you are deliberately sitting down to write about a painful experience in order to process and/or explore it.

Once you know the heart of a story, though, you know what to remove or add, because you can tell what’s getting in the way of the heart of things, and where it is not getting communicated sufficiently clearly.

A crucial point about this is that sometimes it can take time, and it’s very hard to force it. Usually you should let it steep a while. It’s my belief that your unconscious mind takes some time to turn it around and consider it from a few angles before delivering up something worthwhile. You can force it through focused timed writings, sitting down and just writing within constraints, but you will do a lot of thrashing around creating superfluous verbiage that you cannot use in the final version of the story.

Want more of this sort of thing? Check out The Rambo Academy for Wayward Writers.

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Notes From Michael Stackpole's "How To Write a Novel in 21 Days"

Michael Stackpole
Michael Stackpole
These are my notes from the presentation at MidSouthCon 30, 2012m which was great. I suggest taking it from Michael rather than using these notes, which are a poor substitute at best. You can find the CD on his website. That said, here are the notes. I should say that they’re less about how to write a novel in 21 days than how to plan a novel in 21 days through a series of exercises intended to increase knowledge of character, world, and plot.

Overall
Writing is a skill – like any other skill, you get better and more efficient at it. Successful writers write steadily. Don’t worry about speed. Think of every word written down as one closer to your goal.

Writing is also a cyclical process. Ideas are generated and get fed back in. Don’t sweat the messiness as this process is underway because readers will never see anything but the final results. No first draft will be perfect.

Day One
Describe one character with 5-7 single sentences that each describe him/her/it in a specific area, such as their love life, education, current situation, occupation, hobbies, problems, etc.

Day Two
For each of your sentences, write two more sentences that each on it, creating a paragraph about each area of description.

Day Three
Write a single sentence about each life area that runs counter to the previous sentiment. For example, a paragraph about how the character really wants children might have a sentence about how they’re sterile. A paragraph about how they’re happily married might merit a sentence about feeling attracted to the new office manager at work.


Day Four
Write two more sentences expanding on each of the negative sentences from the previous day. You should end up with five (Michael said overachievers can go as high as seven) life areas with two paragraphs describing each. The discrepancy between the two paragraphs creates conflict, which is needed to create story.

Day Five
Repeat Days 1-4 for a second character, who doesn’t have to be involved with the first. They should be characters that interact in a story but are not protagonist and antagonist.

Day Six
For each character, think about short and long term life goals. Write down two short and one long for the character. Bonus points if some goals conflict. This part provides insight plus other stuff for the character to do.

Day Seven
Look at both characters and chart out the obstacles and fears in their life that keeps them from attaining their goals. These are problems you will have to engineer a way past.

Day Eight
Repeat steps 1-4, 6, & 7 for a third character. This lets you think about the characters in terms of a triad, rather than a pair. Interactions between pairs are predictable and low energy, so the new possibilities created by a third character help keep a story high energy.

Day Nine
This day’s devoted to developing a character’s voice. You want each character to have a unique voice. The more you know about a character, the easier it is to write, because some decisions have been made already. Write a letter (no minimum or maximum length) from one character to another doing one of the following: a) asking for help, b) warning them about something, c) apologizing, or 4) explaining something. The text of the note should demonstrate vulnerability on the part of the character writing it. Once it’s written, think about the physical appearance it will take when delivered to another character, which will provide additional insight.

Day Ten
Write a scene consisting of dialogue only (with no attributions) which is a conversation between the letter writer and its recipient. Because there are no attributions, you will need to make sure each character’s voice is differentiated enough that you can tell who’s speaking. Ways to do so: establish level of education, use jargon from their background or job, use verbal tics, etc. Make as long as appropriate, but should prbably be at least a page.

Day Eleven
Revisit the scene where the previous day’s dialogue takes place and write it from the point of view of a third character who can see what the people speaking to each other are doing, but cannot hear what they are doing. The intent is to achieve better-nuanced dialogue, and to move towards showing, rather than tellings, which makes a reader think for themself, thus engaging them, rather than spoon-feeding them facts.

Day Twelve
Now we’re starting on world and setting. Think about what roots these characters in the world? What is in the character is a reflection of the world they grew up in. You may end up adjusting the original profiles at this point. That’s okay. Do this for each character.

Day Thirteen
Think about how the world helps or hinders each character’s achievement of their goals. Is this a friendly nurturing world or a harsh one? The world’s tone determines how hard characters will have to work to achieve their goals.

Day Fourteen
Ask what happens to the world if the characters succeed in attaining their life goals? How would it change? Ask the same question about what happens if they fail. This tells you how strongly the world will resist what they’re doing. Ask – how logical is it for the world to notice what the character is doing and push back?

Day Fifteen
Write a brief scene for each character. Pick one of the following: 1) describe that character’s sanctuary/happy place/safe haven. Where are they most at home? Describe through the character’s eyes. Do this for each character. 2) Take a place where all the characters will be at the same time. Look at the details of the surrounging and see what each of them think of it. Then describe the place from all three characters’ points of view.

Day Sixteen
Now for structure and plotting, which is the toughest part. Write the back cover blurb for the novel (six sentences at most) and the one line description. This will help you figure out the core conflicts, which are the ones that should appear in this.

Day Seventeen
This is the toughest day. For every problem, understand the conflict and its resolution. Figure out the scenes necessary to show each. Most (many) will require the following: 1) a scene that shows there is a problem, which the character may or may not be aware of, 2) a scene that shows where the character realizes there is a problem, 3) a scene that gives your character a reason to want to solve that problem, 4) a scene or series of scenes showing the development of skills and resources necessary to solve the problem, 5) scene that shows the success of failure of this effort. Your’re creating 6-12 scenes for each problem and accumulating an inventory of scenes.

Day Eighteen
Now it’s time to arrange those scenes against the world timeline. Think of the world as another character and go through your scenes looking to see which create an event that would be noticed by the outside world. These events are fixed points in time. After you’ve done this for all the characters, look to see where events are taking place at the same time and might be combined in a single scene. Think of events as though you have to build sets for each and, much as they do in TV, be efficient and shoot as much footage in each point as you can, rather than having to redescribe and re-set the scene somewhere else.

Day Nineteen
Look at events and scenes and decide whether or not you need to add any scenes where characters react to events. If so, does the new scene create a new event that other characters might need to react to? You may have to go through several iterations of the Day 17-18-19 cycle, because this is how you pull the nobel together and make it live outside the characters.

Day Twenty
Each character should have an inventory of a dozen or so scenes that they’re in. Slot scenes into their chronological order, and bingo, you’ve generated an outline. An outline is to a novel as a map is to a really good road trip – as you write, you will discover new things to explore.

Day Twenty-one
Start writing! Don’t edit as you go, make a note if there’s a needed change, and save that for the editing process.

There you go!

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