A metaphor that I was exposed to at Clarion West (now nearly a decade ago) still works beautifully for me, and it’s one I use when teaching: the idea of the writer’s toolbox.
In my mind’s eye, it’s a big red metal tool chest, small enough to be carried around, large enough that you wouldn’t want to HAVE to carry it around all the time. Inside, drawers lift out to reveal neatly packed devices and tools, each in their own padded slot.
There’s a blade capable of lopping off awkward paragraphs, and sharper, tinier words designed for work at the sentence level, trimming beginnings till they catch a reader like a fish hook and pull them into the story. There’s a box of punctuation marks, with a special slot for the semicolons. There’s the intricate device of an unreliable narrator, calculated to wobble like a gyroscope yet still remain true to the story’s course. There’s a set of filters, each one a specific point of view, each letting you cast a section in a different light. And a layer of ornamental gadgetry: epigraphs and scraps of poetry. And a valuable gimlet, capable of drilling down to a character’s motivation: the question, “What does s/he WANT?”
I’ve been thinking about it in going over notes for the class on Literary Techniques in Genre Fiction, because my aim in that is two-fold: to give students not just a whole bunch of new tools, but some sense of when to use them and a chance to experiment with them. Because a device shouldn’t be separate from a story, but an integral part of it, something that adds more to it than just a chance to see the writer being clever.
To push the metaphor a little further, stories are like furniture, only without the useful part, like being able to sit on them. You want them to feel like a single piece, not a table with some drawers and ornamental hinges glued on it. In the class, I try to introduce new tools students may not have (consciously) worked with before, including defamiliarization, hyperbole, synthesia, and a lot of other fancy words. And I also try to expand a drawer they’ve already got partially filled: sources of creative inspiration.
Prefer to opt for weekly interaction, advice, opportunities to ask questions, and access to the Chez Rambo Discord community and critique group? Check out Cat’s Patreon. Or sample her writing here.
Eich wrote it either in a POW camp at the end of WWII, or shortly thereafter. What’s interesting about it is that he both inventories his own “toolkit,” in which the most precious item is his writer’s pencil, and in the structure of the poem, he starts anew in building a toolkit to relaunch his poetry after the apocalypse that he’d just lived through.
Anyway. Sorry, you just got me thinking about tools. 🙂
Want access to a lively community of writers and readers, free writing classes, co-working sessions, special speakers, weekly writing games, random pictures and MORE for as little as $2? Check out Cat’s Patreon campaign.
Want to get some new fiction? Support my Patreon campaign.
"(On the writing F&SF workshop) Wanted to crow and say thanks: the first story I wrote after taking your class was my very first sale. Coincidence? nah….thanks so much."
~K. Richardson
You may also like...
Retreat, Day 12 or 13: Back in the Groove
Sourdough bread. Was way too dense and bland.Today’s wordcount: 6011
Current Hearts of Tabat wordcount: 108569
Total word count for the week so far (day 1): 6011
Total word count for this retreat: 37380
Worked on Hearts of Tabat, “Poppy”
Time spent on SFWA email, discussion boards, other stuff: an hour
Classes that are coming up soon and still have room! All times are Pacific Time.
July 17 (Friday), 2-4 PM ““ Writing Your Way Into Your Novel, Section 2
July 19 (Sunday), 9:30-11:30 AM ““ First Pages Workshop Section 2
Got up early, fed the chickens, ate my yogurt and drank my (overly-trendy kombucha). For those following along with interest regarding the sourdough adventures, the pancakes were divine but the bread was densely textured to the point where it sat in one’s stomach like wet gravel. I do know what I did wrong — I tried to adapt my no-knead bread recipe to use sourdough starter and I need to go back to square one and try a traditional recipe like this one or this one.
Here’s today’s excerpt, taken from Hearts of Tabat:
The Duke’s bedroom has pieces in it that are over 300 years old, imported from the Old Continent on the original Duke’s ship, so long ago, and were old even then. There is a little cabinet made of silver and a dark wood that no longer grows anywhere in this world, for sorcerers eradicated it. There is a table inlaid with opals and in its center a great crystal, once used by the sorcerer Baltazar to spy on his enemies, and looped around it the crystal Baltazar’s general and queen, Aiofe, had worn until the day she was destroyed by grinding the bones that were all that were left of her between two great millstones. That dust had been released far out to sea, and no one had ever heard of Aiofe again, so perhaps her soul was at rest now.
There is a single armchair, a great brooding red thing of velvet, with gilded arms, its echo of a throne not at all accidental. There is no accompanying armchair, just a little stool onto which someone could sink if necessary, but the message is clear that one stands in the Duke’s presence. This room is an entire floor of the south-east tower “” above it is only storage, and things that he prefers stay hidden. The windows on the floor above have been blocked off, secured against entrance, and where they are physically stoppered, the windows here, on all sides of the chamber, are spell-warded, invisible barriers that will halt any intruder, strong enough for even the most intrusive magic.
On the floor is a medley of beast skins: manticore and hydra leather seven-timed tanned into a buttery suppleness, the splotched palomino hindquarters of a Centaur (its human section elsewhere), a Unicorn’s pearly hide, the curls of its mane like sea foam; pelts dark-furred and light, enough of them that the stone floor is not visible. They are cleaned whenever his Grace is not in his chambers, a hurried cleaning, beating the hides out in an inner courtyard and combing out the long-pelted ones, stroking the undersides with sandalwood incense and then putting down a layer of sweetgrass below the layer of hides, so they gave underfoot.
The aetheric light hanging in the center of the chamber is one-of-a kind, a chandelier of liquid light, flowing back and forth between the arms of the light, the light the clean crisp blue-light of the lanterns lining the streets of the city far below. Most spell work cand be seen in that light, and that is another layer of protection for the cautious Duke.
The bed itself is like a massive shelf, also pelt-covered, a zoo’s worth of spotted and speckled, striped and solid, the barest hint of hair over hide next to shaggy mats of black and moonlight. A canopy hangs over the mass, swagged in Tabat’s blue and gold, both shades darkened past the norm, to navy and amber, and sagging downward as though to caress and envelop the sleeper.
On either side of the bed, in narrow vases made of slanted angles of crystal, are sprays of jasmine, hot-house forced and luxuriant as only a plant that has never known insect can be. Perfume seeps from them, and contained by the canopy and back curtains, is contained so the sleeper lies in a pool of scent.
There are shelves of things, trophies and ornaments, little demonstration machines created by the College of Mages, which this Duke has sponsored more heavily than any Duke before him.
There is not a single book in the room. Nothing of paper, not even a map, though there are pictures on the wall, heavy oil canvases, all of the Duke, in a variety of attitudes, all of them flattering. There is a common tone to all these pictures, a palpable obsequiousness and eagerness to please that deepens the eyes, making them see wiser, and clefts the chin just a notch, in the way that is currently fashionable. There are six of these portraits.
One thing that was fascinating about this year’s Nebulas was the chance to meet so many people in the publishing industry, including a couple of the founders of Habitica, Vicky Hsu and Siena Leslie, who were on a panel about avoiding distractions – a key skill for a writer.
Habitica is a motivational game. It lets you gamify your daily tasks and to-do list, turning them into challenges you face in the game. As you complete tasks, you gain levels and items in the game, giving you an extra push to get things done. You can also set it up so you lose points for doing things, if there’s habits you want to avoid. There’s a social aspect; you can join parties and guilds in order to share your progress with friends.
I am always on a quest for a method that will help me stay organized. Various systems have come and gone, some more successful than others, and I’ve learned a few things about how to make such systems more effective. As I share how I am using Habitica, I’ll include some insight into how that knowledge shapes that use. I’ve been logging into it consistently for two weeks now, and I believe it’s going to stick, because I’m finding it very effective for a) nudging me to do things, b) helping me remember stuff, and c) motivating me to use free time and options (like snacks) better.
Core Component: Dailies, Habits, and To-dos
The key to Habitica is its tasks, which fall into three categories: dailies, habits, and todos.
Dailies are a key component. For people familiar with MMORPGs, this concept will be very familiar. They are things you can do once a day that earn you experience. These are effective because “” for me at least “” I get more done doing small chunks consistently than with sporadic sustained bursts. For example, someone learning to play a musical instrument is going to do better with shorter, more frequent practice sessions than one long sustained session. You can get complicated with dailies, but the only things I actually use much is difficulty settings (trivial/easy/medium/hard). The harder the task, the more experience /gold it yields. And they are mandatory – if you miss a daily, you lose hit points.
Here’s my dailies:
Checking the calendar and planning my day. This means looking at the calendar on my PC as well as Google calendars for the various roles I’m currently juggling. One reason I’ve implemented this is that in the last half year I’ve missed a bunch of stuff because I wasn’t in the habit of doing this. With it as a morning task, it’s something I can do quickly and get checked off. This is probably one of the smartest habits anyone can get into, and so making it a regular part of my memory makes me much more effective.
Writing. My goal of 2000 words is set to HARD difficulty level because it’s a top priority plus, well, it’s hard. At the same time I’ve got an accompanying habit set up as trivial: 250 words. Each time I get a chunk of words done, therefore, I can achieve a pellet’s worth of gratification without feeling like I’m padding my count too much, and build towards (hopefully) being able to check off that 2k word goal. This also means even if I don’t hit my goal, I do get some reward for getting partway toward it. This was originally 500 word chunks, which wasn’t as effective was I’d hoped, so I’ve changed it to 250 words. This is much more doable, and is an example of how you can “chunk” your work in order to make it more manageable. I’m more likely to sit down and knock off a few hundred words than 2,000 in one sitting. Doing it this way means I have some reward for my effort even on days when I don’t hit the 2k target, while I have additional reason to hit that goal (and even some to go past it.)
Basic self care stuff. People suffering from depression know that it’s easy to mope around and forget to do some of the stuff that will help you feel better, like food, showers, and getting out into the sunlight. I’ve got one task here, easy level, with the basics that I must hit as a checklist. I’ve pulled out “Take my medicine” as a solo easy level task because this is something I am perpetually bad about and I really want to get on the stick about it. This has been surprisingly successful.
30 minutes of housework. Like the words, I’ve split this into smaller chunks, because I am much more likely to go work in the kitchen for 5-10 minutes if I can get some points for it, and thus I pick away at the overall task. As I continue fine-tuning this, I may add a checklist that will remind me to do quick decluttering sweeps and anything else that really should get done every day, but since the house is usually pretty clean, it’s just a matter of staying on top of it. Can I run the household effectively on 3.5 hours a week? Undoubtedly not and I’ll end up putting in two or three times that, but this means that I keep on top of things on a daily basis.
Exercise. Each of the components of my routine is a separate task, medium level, which I think I will drop to easy at some point. Mainly I want to make sure I get my daily walk in, do some stretches (Steven Barnes turned me onto this great book), and a little strength training, because I am a big wimp, and would like to be less of one.
Self-improvement, mainly 10 minutes of language drill each in Spanish and Mandarin. I know from experience that doing it daily will work while cramming isn’t particularly effective (or likely). At the same time extra practice set up as habits in order to encourage me to do more than the basic daily allotment if there’s time. I use Duolingo for Spanish drill, combined with reading fiction in Spanish; for Mandarin, I’ve got Rocket Chinese and an iPad game. And an additional 10 minutes of practicing at something to build my dexterity.
Something outside my comfort zone. This doesn’t have to be big, although the recent shark cage dive was definitely a good example. But it can mean initiating an interaction I’ve been avoiding. It does have to be outside my normal comfort zone, though. For example, while smiling at or saying hi to a stranger might be a good one for my shyer friends, it’s something I do anyway. Pick things that you need to be reminded to do.
Habits are things you should do more but a, don’t necessarily need to do every day and b, might do more than once. For example, here’s some of mine:
Eat a fruit/vegetable. This makes me more likely to grab a healthy snack rather than chips or candy.
Promotional tasks. I’ve got reminders to promote my Patreon, the Rambo Academy, and my live classes. This nudges me to be better about tweeting, posting on FB, and other social media venues.
50 pages of nonfiction reading. This nudges me to get through a particular section of my to-be-read pile and not just read novels.
The aforementioned 250 words written (this must be fiction), which kicks me to be productive even after I’ve knocked off my requisite 2,000.
I’ve included some other tasks to encourage me to do them on a regular basis, such as posting for Patreon supporters, clearing emails, sending out submissions, editing 50 pages, etc.
Watching television is a negative habit (because I want to trim down on how much I watch), so each half hour costs me experience and points.
Todos are one-time tasks. This functions for me as a combo of todo list plus kick in the butt to get those items knocked off the list. Right now the list has a couple of appointments I need to make (due by the end of this week), two manuscripts I should read, a blurb to write, and several SFWA projects that I need to nudge along. One of the habits I’m working at is, when looking at an e-mail, either answering it immediately or turning it into a todo here that has an expiration date. This does nothing to address the pile of past todos, but one useful to-do, due Sunday evening, is looking over the week to come and setting up todos for things that I want to get accomplished that that week that aren’t already covered by a daily, habit, or existing to-do.
Why Habitica Works For Me
First and foremost, it’s a game, and I am a game addict. Gamify just about anything and I’m there. Habitica has random little rewards as well as reward for steady effort, set up in an addictive and gratifying way. It’s fun. Because I’m at the keyboard so much, Habitica is easy to access, but even when I’m not, there’s a mobile app that I’ve installed on my phone.
The game rewards me with coins that I can spend in the game or that I can spend outside the game on rewards I’ve decided for myself, such as buying a new book, which costs me ten gold on Habitica.
It also gets me to create reminders to myself in the form of todos, as well as provides options for odd moments. Since I work at home, I often get up and roam around the apartment, thinking about a story. Habitica encourages me to spend that time in the kitchen doing 5 minutes worth of tidying up, or taking a break for language drill.
There’s a strong social aspect to Habitica, including being able to group up with people and undertake quests in order to find additional items and pets. This encourages accountability; one of the things I’ve found about these systems is that if you know other people can see your progress (or lack thereof), you are more likely to follow through.
One thing I’ve been cautious about is overloading the game and tracking everything obsessively. So each week, as part of that planning session, I look to see if there’s anything I’m not doing. If so, do I need to make the reward greater? Or should I just remove it from my slate if it’s something optional? After that, I can add one, and only one, thing. This week I’ve thinking I’ll add a habit of taking a book or three out with me on walks in order to put them in some of the local Little Free Libraries; that will encourage me to do some mild decluttering and to work through my massive physical To-be-read pile.
Is Habitica going to work for everyone? Obviously no solution fits all. I’ve found it effective, and people with the same flaws I have (distractible, forgetful, and prone to procrastination) may do so as well. If you do and you’re an F&SF writer, there’s an Inkslingers Guild on there that’s fun, run by Mary Robinette Kowal. And feel free to let me know if you’re there so I can invite you to join my party – right now Sandra and I are questing to kill the Feral Dust Bunnies.
3 Responses
With the distinct possibility of going off on a tangent, I am reminded of Günter Eich’s poem “Inventory” (English translation; original German (“Inventur”)).
Eich wrote it either in a POW camp at the end of WWII, or shortly thereafter. What’s interesting about it is that he both inventories his own “toolkit,” in which the most precious item is his writer’s pencil, and in the structure of the poem, he starts anew in building a toolkit to relaunch his poetry after the apocalypse that he’d just lived through.
Anyway. Sorry, you just got me thinking about tools. 🙂
I think that’s a great tangent. Thank you for pointing me at that poem!
I would love to take that class, but it will have to wait for next year.