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The Fallacy of Inspiration

March 22, 2018

In his excellent memoir, On Writing, Stephen King compares writing a story to discovering an artefact – you discover the story idea, but it’s encased in mud and dirt, and it’s through writing and revision that you chip away all the muck to reveal as much of the story as possible.

It’s a worthwhile analogy to keep in mind, because too many writers rely on inspiration to be their drive the whole time. They write when inspiration hits, or when the mood takes them. Any other time is not worth the bother, they think. If it’s hard to write, then it can’t be good, right?

Wrong.

Poets may be able to rely on inspiration – a poem will usually be short enough that inspiration and mood can carry the writer from the inception of the poem to its completion. The same applies to short stories. That’s not to say poets or short story authors don’t work arduously on their writing, or revise extensively, but just that these forms are short enough that these attitudes of inspiration and mood can survive the journey in its entirety.

An adult novel will be, on average, about 80,000 words long. It would be simply impossible for inspiration to motivate an author the whole journey. That would be tantamount to running a whole marathon at a sprint. Similarly, an author is not going to be in the mood the whole time through the course of writing a novel.

If you’re always waiting for inspiration to hit, or the mood to take you, you’ll never finish anything.

Inspiration is usually just an idea, or a question. What if an orphaned boy who lived under the stairs discovered he was a wizard? Or, What if a dysfunctional teenager was kicked out of his fancy school? Or, What if a character was unstuck in time? Continuing with King’s analogy, this is the discovery of the artefact.

Questions now may follow. Let’s use the first example. The questions might be:

Who is the boy?
If he’s orphaned, who does he live with?
How did his parents die?
How does the boy develop his wizardry?

These questions will either provide answers …

The boy is chosen to fight a great evil.
He lives with his cruel aunt, uncle, and cousin.

… or more questions …

What if his parents were killed by the very evil the boy has to fight?
What is there was a school of magic that the boy and others like him are sent to?

The idea is now starting to develop. Keep in mind, inspiration provided the spark. We’re now doing the rest of the work – some of it will come so easily it’ll surprise us, while the rest may take trial, error, and refining. But we’re underway.

Now everybody has to find their own methodology as to when they feel they have enough information to sit down and begin writing. But when they do, there’s one thing that’s just about guaranteed: you will be full of enthusiasm.

You’re excited. The ideas at this stage are brimming. You can’t wait to get stuck into it. So you write and write. But that enthusiasm doesn’t last. At some point, you’ll tire. You won’t be sure where the story goes next. It’ll feel flat. It won’t seem worth it. You’ll be too tired. You’ll have too much on. You won’t have enough time to make writing worthwhile. And on this list goes.

If you sit around waiting for the next inspiration, you may end up waiting so long that you forget important details that you have written, so then you have to spend time re-familiarising yourself with everything. Or you might end up waiting indefinitely.

This is not the time to start on a new project, however much it does beckon. Lots of authors do, and commend themselves on their versatility, but their other projects just become abandoned. A new project will always be more exciting because it is new and fresh and untainted. But it’s likely that if you did begin it, you’ll eventually face the same issues.

You need to stick with what you’re writing. You need to learn to write through tiredness and distraction and all that. You need to learn to push through flat spots and not knowing where to go. You need to develop that writing muscle so that it carries you through any of the times you don’t feel like writing for whatever reason.

When you learn to do this, you’ll find your imagination is always running, that you’re always contemplating where to go next, and that you’re eager to get back to writing.

Once you develop this as an ability, you’ll find that outside of the providing the original concept, you won’t need inspiration to fuel you through the journey of writing a book, and you will generally feel passionate about it the whole time.

The Story of YOU!

March 8, 2018

Something that’s often required of the writer is a bio. This might be needed to enter a competition, for an ‘About the Author’ page in a published book, or an ‘About Me’ section on a website.

Yet, despite the writer knowing everything about their own life, and their writing journey and accomplishments, they struggle with composing all that information into something succinct and purposeful.

Purposeful?
Yes – think of the bio as the story about you and your writing. This is what people want to know about. You might’ve been married five times, have nineteen kids, and once been abducted by aliens, but none of that is essential for a bio. Only provide details that are relevant, or which offer context.

Context
What information provides context? Often, this will depend on what you’re writing.

If you’re writing a murder mystery set in Tootgarook, it’s probably not going to be important to tell people that you’ve been married five times. But if you’re writing a self-help book about surviving divorce, that detail now becomes relevant – it’s a qualification to substantiate that you know your subject matter. That’s context.

Equally, if you’re writing a murder mystery set in a hospital, and you worked as a nurse in a hospital for ten years, you might include that information in your bio because, again, it provides context. It shows the reader that you know your setting, and the protocols within that setting, so the story should enjoy a level of verisimilitude.

Third Person
Something else to keep in mind is that a bio should be written in third person – that means you’re writing about yourself as if you were somebody else.

You wouldn’t write:

I have always been interested in murder mysteries, and after working as a nurse for ten years, I started toying with the idea of a serial killer masquerading as one of the staff.

That’s first person. Instead:

Jane Smith has always been interested in murder mysteries. After working as a nurse for ten years in a public hospital, she started to toy with the idea of a serial killer masquerading as one of the staff.

You can also be playful, if you like.

Playful?
This will depend on your market. If you’re writing about grief counselling, you wouldn’t joke about owning five cats. But other markets might be open to some quirkiness.

E.g.

Your market will determine just how playful you can be, but it’s up to you to decide whether it’ll work or not.

Length
This will depend on the market. They will usually stipulate how long a bio should be. But this could be anywhere from 50 words to 200 words to one page.

Obviously, the length will determine what should go into the bio and what shouldn’t.

The 50-Word Bio
This should be nothing but the facts. Also, there’ll be generalising involved. You wouldn’t list every journal you’ve been published in. You might list a few of the bigger ones, but usually it’ll just be an overview.

E.g.

Death Comes Screaming

That’s just thirty-four words (thirty-five, technically, because the compound hyphenation of ‘Melbourne-based’ is only counted as one word), but we’ve communicated lots of information.

If you wanted, you could go back now and provide some specifics – just a few, mind you.

E.g.

Death Comes Screaming

Overland

Meanjin

Going Down Swinging

Now we’re up to 43 words. It’s a lot of information in so few words, and should show you the power that you have at your disposal by being concise.

The 200-Word Bio
Now there’s room for details. But think chronologically.

Don’t write:

Death Comes Screaming

Jane was born in 1979 in Glasgow, Scotland. Her family relocated to Melbourne, Australia, in 1985.

Here, the bio has jumped chronologically. Keep everything in order. Dot point it as an outline before you start writing if you need to.

And, like any other story, it should follow the three-act structure. It should have a beginning, middle, and end.

E.g.

While studying at LaTrobe University, she saw a competition for creative essays from people who’d relocated to Australia. Her piece, ‘Land Ahoy’, was longlisted, and a love for writing was born.

During her early years as nurse, she toyed with short stories, and had several published in journals such as Overland, Meanjin, and Going Down Swinging. While working at Melbourne Hospital for ten years, she started to develop the idea of a murder mystery.

The result is Death Comes Screaming (Veracity Press 2017), in which a young nurse, Alice Cronwin, grows suspicious about a spate of sudden deaths in palliative care, and suspects that a doctor might be responsible.

Jane is currently working on her next novel, ‘The Green’, about a serial killer who hunts his victims in the outback.

Etc. That’s 199 words which gives us a more detailed portrait of Jane, and also shows why certain interests in her life developed, i.e. a stay in hospital shows why she grew interested in nursing. (As an aside, published book titles are italicised. Titles of books which haven’t been published should be inserted in ‘quotation marks’.)

We also get a logical structure to Jane’s life:

Act One: Jane’s birth in Scotland, and relocation to Australia.
Act Two: Jane’s life – school camp, a stay in hospital, study, a growing interest in writing, and the development of an idea for a novel.
Act Three: The completion of Jane’s first novel, and that she’s working on a new novel.

The Page-Long Bio
And, of course, with a page-long bio, you can grow much more detailed and go into lots more personal detail. Just remember to keep it chronological. And be succinct. Don’t waffle for the sake of filling space.

Also, do not exceed any word limits that might be stipulated. Observing the requirements a publisher, journal, or competition may set illustrates your professionalism. Don’t ever believe you may be so brilliant, they’ll forgive you exceeding any word limit.

With a page-long bio, you can fudge how much space your text occupies by changing the font type. Fonts vary in size. 12-point Palatino is larger than 12-point Times New Roman, which is larger than 12-point Garamond. One page of Times New Roman may amount to one and one/quarter pages of Palatino, while only being three/quarters of a page in Garamond.

It’s About the Details
Don’t fret if your writing life has been sparse. You mightn’t have lots of writing credits, but you have lots of life credits. Everybody does. It’s just a matter of sifting through your life to find what will work.

Also, think about how personal and professional details can provide relevant information and context. Look at the details that fill out your story.

Writing a bio for yourself doesn’t have to be stressful.

Remember, it’s the story of YOU.

Happy Reading!

February 22, 2018

Last night was Busybird’s first Open Mic Night for 2018!

Many writers scoff at the thought of public readings. We’ve had clients ring who want to publish a book, and then do nothing whatsoever to promote that book after its publication. Well, here’s the truth: the book isn’t going to promote itself. It’s not going to perform interviews. It’s not going to do the talk circuit. It’s not going to read itself publicly. And if these things aren’t happening, it’s unlikely the book will ever be discovered. Why whould it? Who’s going to know it’s out there?

As far as readings go, the reason they work as both a form of brand-building and book promotion is because it introduces the writer and their writing to the greater public. Readings also engender interest in the writing itself. I’ve often seen people in an audience be so captivated by a reading, they enquire about the book the excerpt’s come from.

Of course, reading in public can be daunting. People imagine worst-case scenarios – from embarrassing themselves to failing to having a panic attack and running off stage.

But reading doesn’t have to be that intimidating. In fact, it’s a simple art as long as you keep it in context.

Here’s some tips to consider:

Reading in public is no different to reading to yourself. It really isn’t. Think about it – what’s different? You’re reading aloud, whether it’s to yourself or to a group of people. The practice is the same. It’s the environment that’s changed, and because that’s the case, you put pressure on yourself. Just remind yourself: it’s still the same practice. When you recognise the context, it helps you relax.

Rehearse aloud. Common sense – right? Read aloud. Look for places you might stumble, or for words where you might trip – stuff you can read fluently inside your head can become an issue aloud. Iron out these kinks before they become issues.

Pick something that’s self-contained, and would stand alone Don’t pick an excerpt that contains references to lots of characters who and/or events that are foreign to the listeners. They’re just going to scratch their heads, wondering who these people are and what’s happening. While they’re doing this, they’re not going to connect with what you’re reading. If you have to stop and explain material, you’re going to break the flow of your reading.

If possible, find something with a bit of a hook at the end, so it entices the audience to get the book. You want people to be thinking, I wonder what happens next. That curiosity could encourage them to go out and buy your book.

Don’t read spoilers. Why bother picking up a story if you’re giving away vital plot elements? What allure will the rest of the story hold?

One hundred words will generally equal one minute – don’t read more than ten minutes. Reading a book yourself and having it read aloud to you – especially in a public environment – are two different practices. You’d be happy to spend hours reading a book on the comfort of your couch. You get restless listening to somebody read, no matter how brilliant.

Print out the section you want to read in a BIGGER font. This makes it easier to read. Books can (comparably) have a smaller font, and short of splitting the spine books can be hard to keep open.

If you get nervous, hold something heavy (like a clipboard) behind the printout. This will weigh down your hands from shaking.

Just remember, you don’t walk into the situation and inherit pressure. You put that on yourself. But what’s the worst that can happen? If you mess up, you’re likelier to find the audience sympathetic. Nobody is going to record this for posterity. It’s not going to go on your permanent record. Anybody who is mocking or derisive is a moron, and not worth worrying about anyway. Reading can be – and really should be – an enjoyable experience.

Happy reading!

Editing Attitudes to Live By

February 8, 2018

In our last blog, we offered a 10-step process for revision if you were a writer.

In this blog, we’re going to take a look at it from the other side – if you’re an editor or providing feedback in a workshop group.

Now many of the last blog’s rules can still apply if you’re editing or providing feedback. What’s distinctly different here are the attitudes you need to keep in mind.

1. Recognise What the Author’s Trying to Accomplish
It’s amazing the amount of authors and feedbackers who try to take a piece in the direction they think it needs to go. Sure, sometimes an author might be unclear on what their story’s about. A manuscript that was initially about adultery might twist into a story about a character’s emotional and intellectual growth.

It’s times like this when the editor needs to gently challenge the author with a simple question: What do you think your story is about? This can be enlightening for authors – a question they’ve never asked themselves because they’ve been too immersed in the material to see objectively.

Once they understand (or realise) what the story’s actually about, the editor or feedbacker should help them try to get to that destination, rather than take them somewhere they don’t want to go, are unwilling to go, or never intended to go.

What an editor/feedbacker should never, ever do is make an assumption, or conclude what a piece is (or should be) about because that is going to prejudice their feedback, and possibly take the author further and further from their vision. It’s also going to cause friction between the editor/feedbacker and the author.

What often ultimately happens is that instead of getting an author’s vision, or even the editor’s vision, you get this murky neither here nor there vision.

2. Do Not Edit by Committee
This applies particularly to workshopping groups. Five people might’ve read a piece, and then a few of them might start commenting on what they believe the piece needs. Their comments stimulate other conversation. Somebody who’s been silent to this point might feel they need to agree. Somebody else might think they need to say something for the sake of saying something. If you have somebody particularly dominant and/or influential providing feedback, others might unwittingly support them to curry favour, or so they’re seen to be contributing, even if they don’t particularly believe in what they’re saying.

Often, as a group they begin brainstorming as if this was their idea. This process works in a television writer’s room where a group of writers try to map out a television series and every possibility has to be exhausted, but in this situation the showrunner (the writer in charge) still has the overarching vision. Everybody is working towards that vision. When they stray, the showrunnner will herd them back into line.

The collective often doesn’t work for stories or books. Instead of trying to fulfill the author’s vision, or even their own individual vision (which they shouldn’t be doing – see the previous point), they create this bastardised hodgepodge vision that doesn’t belong to anybody.

3. Honour the Writer’s Voice
Lots of editors and feedbackers are writers themselves. Unfortunately, this means that too many editors and feedbackers go into an author’s piece as if it were their own, and begin revising and commenting according to what they would do had this been a piece they’d written.

The author might use short, punchy sentences, whereas the editor/feedbacker might prefer if the sentences were longer. They might create unnecessary linkages. Etc. They rewrite passages. Or make suggestions in accordance with what they would do, rather than what the author would do.

This isn’t editing. This isn’t providing feedback. This is ghostwriting.

Honour the writer’s voice. Honour their style. Obviously, there are grammatical and punctuation rules that need to be observed but it’s imperative to find the author’s wavelength and keep their work sounding uniquely like them.

4. Do Not Be Afraid of White Space
Way too many editors and feedbackers panic if they’ve gone some distance – like a page – and haven’t made a comment. That unblemished margin intimidates them. They feel they need to comment just to prove they’re doing their job.

It might simply be that the content doesn’t need commenting. Yes, this happens! Something can be just fine.

Don’t fear white space in a margin.

5. Don’t Let Your Reputation Get to Your Head
Some editors and feedbackers may have a reputation they feel they need to live up to, e.g. from my own experience, I had a reputation for slashing verbosity, and for a little period there felt I needed to slash – whether the text deserved it or not – to justify my reputation. But then I learned – just as with the white space – it’s okay to not do anything.

This is an extremely difficult thing for lots of editors and feedbackers. They’re not reading a piece for recreation. They’re going into it with the intent of editing and commenting, so feel they need to regardless.

Remember – and not just in relation to this point, but editing and providing feedback overall – sometimes, things are fine just as they are.

These are the attitudes to keep in mind while editing or feedbacking. They’re attitudes you should live by.

An author’s work – even if that work is ridiculously flawed – is sacred. The work not only represents the author, it is the author.

Be respectful, if not reverential, and help the author get to where they want to go.

A 10-Step Process for Revision

January 25, 2018

How do you approach revision? Do you just sit down and trust your instincts? Do you just let whatever happens happen? The chances are if you have a haphazard approach, you’ll have haphazard results.

When revising, you should have a plan. You should have a methodical approach that’ll cover all the requirements of the revision.

Here’s the ten-step process I use …

10. Read Your Work Until You’re Sick of It
If you think that first draft is great, you’re kidding yourself. The first draft is a spill. This is where you just need to get everything out. It might contain the potential for greatness, but it’s going to need work.

Read it, reread it, and keep doing that until you can get no more out of it.

9. Put Your Work Away for a Period
Sometimes, deadlines don’t allow us this leeway. But, if you can, put your work away – for a minimum of one week, but for as long as three months (or longer) if possible.

When you finally go back to it, it should be with a fresh perspective. You might’ve even come up with a few new ideas during the interim. Often, stepping away from your work – and removing that pressure to produce – frees your imagination.

8. Start Reading and Rereading Again
Attack your work with a new vigour. If you’ve given yourself enough time, it’ll be like reading something for the first time. This’ll help with your objectivity.

7. Send It Out to Alpha Readers
Develop a network of like-minded people with whom you share your work and exchange feedback. Make sure they’re people you respect, and who understand what you’re trying to do. They don’t have to be writing the same genre as you to provide good feedback. But do be conscious of people who specialize in a certain genre, and read everything through the filter of that genre, e.g. they only read romance, and expect everything else they read to be written the same as romance would be written.

6. The Feedback Revision
You should now have some feedback to focus on. Get back to revising. Address every point. Even if you don’t agree with feedback, consider why that feedback was offered. Is there something about that particular point you should consider, even if it’s a different facet of it? If more than one person has given you the same feedback, then it’s probably valid.

5. The Double Read
Read a chapter, then read it again. The first read is just to familiarize yourself with everything and where it’s all heading, and the second time is to address it with that familiarity fresh in your mind. Just because you’re the author doesn’t mean you’re going to remember every line you’ve written. This double-reading technique imprints the prose on your mind on the first pass so that you can revise with abandon on the second.

Finally, don’t do too much daily – only about twenty or pages or so (which will actually amount to forty pages or so when you read everything twice). The mind tires easily, so it’s best to stagger the digestion of the material.

4. The Red Edit – Structure
Change the colour of the font to red. This forces the brain to process the information differently. If possible, change the font also. Examine how your writing works as a whole. Does it make sense? Are you delivering your information in the best way to communicate your message? Are your characters layered? Are they necessary? Are there areas that are overwritten which could be more succinct? Etc. Be merciless. Test your writing’s defenses and exploit it’s weak spots. If, at any time, your response to a query is, I think it’s okay, then it’s likely it’s not okay.

As with the double read, try not to do too much daily.

3. The Blue Edit – Copy
Now change the colour of the font to blue. Again, if possible change the font to something else.

Focus now on the copy, correcting grammar, and punctuation. Examine your writing line by line. is it clear? Is there a better way to say things?

Importantly, give yourself lots of breaks as you’re doing this. It’s very easy to slip into reading your writing without registering anything.

2. The Normal Read
Return the font to whatever colour and type you’d normally use. Sit down and read your book as if you had picked it up to read recreationally. Whereas in previous steps, you would’ve read only a small, set amount daily, now read it in big clumps to see if the flow works. The pacing is something that’s hard to judge when you’re deeply immersed in the copy itself.

1. Run a Spellcheck
Even if your spelling is brilliant, run a spellcheck. Often, spelling errors are a result of mistyping, rather than not knowing how to spell.

If you’re using Word, turn off the grammar checker. The grammar checker can, unwittingly, introduce errors. if you have a fine understanding of grammar and can recognize when this is happening, great, but if not, it’s best to proceed without it.

Does this seem like a lot of work?

It is – but writing is. People who believe they can vomit out a first draft and give it one quick read and revision before sending it out are deluding themselves.

Writing is a lot of hard work.

Don’t ever believe otherwise.