Writing Thoughts: Dwelling On Process

In an earlier post I mentioned establishing the story’s conflict as something that is often best done in the story’s first three paragraphs. In order to expand on that, I’ve drawn examples from one of my favorite speculative fiction writers, James Tiptree Jr. aka Alice Sheldon, all of which are available in the collection Her Smoke Rose Up Forever.

One of Tiptree’s classic stories, “The Women Men Don’t See” may be one of her most celebrated, leading to responses from other writers like Karen Joy Fowler’s “What I Didn’t See” (Kindle version) and my own “Clockwork Fairies” (Kindle version). Tiptree uses her titles to maximum effect and you’ll notice that each of these beginnings interacts in a significant way with the title preceding it.

I see her first while the Mexicana 747 is barreling down to Cozumel Island. I come out of the can and lurch into her seat, saying “Sorry,” at a double female blur. The near blur nods quietly. The younger blur in the window seat goes on looking out. I continue down the aisle, registering nothing. Zero. I never would have looked at them or thought of them again.

The title plays off nearly every line: “I see her first,” (who? is it one of the women from the title?) “a double female blur,” “the near blur,” “the younger blur, “registering nothing,” finishing up with “I never would have looked at them or thought of them again,” at which point the reader is screaming why? why don’t you see them? The answer to that question is crucial to the story.

Here’s another Tiptree beginning, this time of “Houston, Houston, Do You Read?” which uses the strategy of referring to a memory to reveal the conflict. The memory is connected to gender and embarrassment, which will also turn out to be crucial to the story.

Lorimer gazes around the big crowded cabin, trying to listen to the voices, trying also to ignore the twitch in his insides that means he is about to remember something bad. No help; he lives it again, that long-ago moment. Himself running blindly — or was he pushed? –into the strange toilet at Evanston Junior High. His fly open, his dick in his hand, he can still see the gray zipper edge of his jeans around his pale exposed pecker. The hush. The sickening wrongness of shapes, faces turning. The first blaring giggle. Girls. He was in the girls’ can.

“Houston, Houston, Do You Read” is Tiptree at her best, examining gender norms and conventions with a ruthless, scathingly honest eye. Somehow that first moment of embarrassment, that moment of being in “the strange toilet” encapsulates so much of what that story is about and how alien the sexes can be to each other as well as how strange their container, the norms that make them up, which constitute the walls of “the can” itself, are. Look at how the center of his masculinity is framed visually: the gray zipper edge of his jeans around his pale exposed pecker. There is so much going on in that first paragraph, including sensory details like the twitch of his insides, the blare of a giggle, the pattern and threat of a zipper, that it’s worth copying out, pulling apart sentence by sentence to figure out how it’s working.

Let’s finish up with Tiptree in a moment that puts everything up front, in the short story “We Who Stole the Dream”:

The children could survive only twelve minims in the sealed containers.

Woah. We don’t know what’s going on precisely, but we know crucial details. We have a deadline and it is only twelve minims. While we don’t know how long a minim is, we know it’s not much time because of that “only”. Plus, there’s an auditory echo of “minute” that makes us think they’re of similar length.

What’s at stake? This lives of children, for pete’s sake. Not just child, but children, multiple. And we know how they’ll die: suffocation. It would be hard to write a tauter, more dire beginning.

Writing exercise: write three first lines. They can state the stakes, as in the third example, or refer to some memory or object that encapsulates the conflict, as with the example from “Houston, Houston, Do You Read?” Include two titles for each, one that plays off the beginning and one that does not.

For bonus points, read “The Women Men Don’t See” and use that as your inspiration.

Feel free to post some of your best first lines on here, I’d love to see some!

November has come to represent something for many writers: a chance to participate in NaNoWriMo, National Novel Writing Month. Participants pledge to write 50,000 words over the course of the month.

The main advantage of NaNoWriMo is the shared energy and impetus to get words onto the page, without worrying about whether they are genius or not. I’ve done it several times in the past, and always managed to either hit the 50,000 word mark or come within a few thousand words of it. While I don’t usually participate in local NaNoWriMo events, like the various write-ins at coffeeshops, libraries, and associated institutions, I do appreciate the feeling it brings of being part of a vast swell of words.

I’ve been mulling over whether or not to participate this year and finally swung into the Aye side. I’ve been having trouble getting my daily word count in lately (this has been a very weird year) so I’m signing up and will be doing daily posts. I also want to be able to cheer on students and friends who are also participating. You can find me on the NanoWriMo site here.

My aim is to:

• Finish the unfinished scenes from Hearts of Tabat so I can finally start getting that to beta readers.
• Finish three bespoke stories (one for the upcoming two-sided collection).
• Finish at least one story for the Patreon campaign.

One thing I’ve learned is that you can put some prep into NaNo beforehand to maximize your success.

1. Preplan what you’re going to write. You don’t have to have an obsessive outline (although it’s not a terrible idea) but pantsing is more likely to lead to the terrible moment where you’re staring at the page, telling yourself that genius must occur, and then deciding to go play Candy Crush instead. I like the beat method, where you describe the scene and roughly what will occur: They make a fire. Ben makes tea. Else raises the issue of the hunters again. Ben refuses to talk but spills the tea. They hear something in the underbrush. A wolf jumps out.
2. Clear the decks. This is not the time to take on extra projects, plan to acquire better habits, or quit smoking. Make sure you have time to write, and that you won’t have things that occupy cycles in your head with worrying about them.
3. Figure out your schedule. Actually sit down and plan the schedule: I will write every weekday and Sunday but not worry about Saturdays because that’s a busy day. Think about the events of the month and factor those in: I will write 2500 words a day so I can finish before Thanksgiving travel. I will take the day of my birthday off. I will write extra the third week so I can goof off that weekend. Etc.
4. Plan your rituals. Where and how will you write? Every weekday I will go to the coffee shop from 1 to 3, turn off social media, and get words in. If I don’t hit my daily word total, I’ll get up early the following day and get an extra 500 in. Make rituals something that drive productivity, not impede it — don’t get in a situation where you can write only under specific circumstances (if you can avoid it).
5. Line up some writing prompts. Words are what matter during NaNoWriMo, and it’s okay to write scenes or other chunks that may not go in the finished version. Now is not the time to worry about that — just get the words in and see what happens. So line up some things to write about.
6. Reward yourself – not just at the end but along the way. I’m a big believer in the power of bribing yourself. Promise yourself some treat, not just for finishing overall, but for hitting your goals each week. It doesn’t have to be a big deal, but something you might not otherwise do: If I hit my goals each week, I will take myself out to lunch the following Monday. If I finish overall, I’ll buy those books I’ve been wanting.
7. Assemble your cheering squad. Got friends or family who are also participating? Sign up to cheer each other on. Let the people who are good about encouraging you know what you’re doing and how they can best help you.
8. Tell yourself you’re going to make it. Visualize your success and how lovely it will be to have all the words under your belt. Tell yourself you can do it, and keep that cheerful internal encouragement going throughout the month.
9. Be accountable. Figure out how you can track what you’re doing. I’ll be using the NanoWriMo site as well as posting word counts and snippets on this website.

Are you participating in NaNo this year? What will you be working on?