Recharged and Ready

Last night I went to a rollicking BLIZZARD of super short plays at the Bloomington Playwrights Project. There were so many titles performed by a company of artists that I lost track of names and numbers. Some made me laugh, some made me think, some left me bewildered (as in, what was that supposed to be about?). In short, I got a solid dose of variety. At least twenty different authors put out a little bit of themselves and shared their creative vibe with me. 

And I feel nourished! Ready to tackle the next outline. Ready to write the next scene filled with dreaded feelings of betrayal.

Thank you for your generosity, B.P.P. and the Blizzardites. I extend that thanks to every artist who has ever given something of his or herself to the world.

More rewriting!*! Do I have to?

As I flesh out my set-up, creating a fuller storyworld and building its inherent opposition to the main character and her family, I've been surprised that I'm also reconsidering the ending. I don't mean that it's not working. I love the ending. It's very powerful. Exciting, visual, emotional. Rather, I may have too much story and perhaps the novel Green Tara ends earlier than it has in previous drafts.

I'll digress. I've always imagined this story as the first part of a trilogy. Part I - Virginia finds her missing mom on the planet Green Tara. Together with her cousin, Gordy, they collect living ocean greens--the oxygenators, if you will. And when her dad tracks them down and reconnects, they all travel to Earth and replenish the dead ocean waters. Of course, the novel goes into 133 pages of detail for all this to happen.

I have sketched out Parts II and III in a similar general story arc, but I have yet to work them out in any detail. One thing at a time, right? . . . Maybe.

Back to the current rewrite of Part I: I'm taking more time to set up the nature of the controlling entity, the Triumvirate, in the beginning. And I'm reincorporating direct conflict via a pair of Triumvirate sentries in a scene that comes later in the story. I want to get these fixes done and get this story out the door.

But my instincts are saying, Don't rush it. Take the time in Part I to know the larger threat and to feel the dissonance of a family fraught with betrayal. End it with Virginia's family reunited, and leaving the lush sanctuary to begin the next phase of their journey. I can combine rescuing Gordy's mom and restoring Earth's oceans in Part II. (The other missing mom is, after all, hiding out in the Mars colony and has been waiting for the rest of the family for years.)

Am I dawdling on this one manuscript, just because I'm afraid to get it to publishers and to hear all their objections? Or have I found a more elegant way to divide the trilogy? The only way I'll know, is to outline Part II. And while I'm at it, outline Part III.

Ouch. Outlining's the toughest, makes-my-brain-hurt part of the process.

Do I have to?

I heard that George Lucas outlined all of the Star Wars saga before he made "Part IV" and that Jo K. Rowling outlined all seven of her novels before Harry made it big. If they're my muses, I must follow their lead.

More on rewriting

Last week I faced the stark truth of just how much rewriting is in my future.  A couple of early readers of my Young Adult novel Green Tara have sent me praise--always welcome--but one pointed out a lack of clarity in the story world. Alas, I see now that the story's set-up needs attention.

 

I've written a new opening sequence that dramatizes the overarching problem of the futuristic world: the laws are oppressive and the people defacto slaves of the corporation.  Specifically, I've put the main character in a physical position to witness how a small group of people are "volunteered" to go on a suicidal exploration mission. I reread the sequence yesterday, and though the language is clunky and needs a polish, the images and basic arc of the story are great. But--

Darn, there's always a "but." On reflection I've got two of them.

How do I maintain the light, humorous tone when the consequences are so dire? And the other biggie--it's now clear that I've neglected the all-important establishment of theme.  If there's one rule that's inviolable, it's that theme belongs at the top. Lo, the entire story is most satisfying if it's marinated in theme. So, how do I invest both these essential ingredients into this new opening sequence?

The theme revolves around betrayal and loyalty. And though my young heroine might be disturbed by the cruelty of the laws, the sight of  people she doesn't really know getting the short end of the stick won't feel personal enough to call up the emotion of betrayal. Back to the question of tone, if she sees the cruelty but doesn't protest at least in private, will she be seen as heartless? That's not generally a good quality for a main character.

These are the questions I'm asking myself.

They say . . .

They--meaning practicing writers--say, "Writing is rewriting." And that's where I'm at today. If I didn't know others have gone this way countless times ahead of me, I'd be lost.

What's the process? 

• Identify places where there's lack of clarity or lack of engagement.  Check. Weakness is most pronounced in the set-up of the story world.
  
• Sketch a plan for a new opening sequence that more clearly establishes the problem at the global/story world level. Check. 
  
• Revisit to make sure the scenes are a satisfying dramatic hook and not just expository, situational scenarios. Next to do in my process today.
  
• Flesh out the descriptions. Note to self: In my futuristic setting I can't always rely on the less is more strategy. Here's a case where clarity trumps, so over-describe, then edit for a cleaner, leaner read.
  
• Crisp up the dialog. Note to self: Maintain the snappy personalities and beware the trap of explaining the situation via "natural" conversation, which won't sound natural at all if it explains everything. 
  
• Come back to the sequence tomorrow, edit and continue with a revision of the old opening scene so the two sequences flow.
  

Good thing I love the process.

Taking Notes

I received my first set of notes last night and I won't lie to you--it hurts. I wanted and expected polish notes, the kind that would take 5-10 hours to pound out. What I got was: when the main charactery rescues her mother the meeting's "tepid" (read: boring), and the second half of the story's generic (read: boring) and why don't I consider making the main character's father a traitor to give the story some real conflict (read: the story I've been writing's a real bore).

If only I could take this last story suggestion, rework the second half of the story with betrayal at its core and--KAPOW--fix the boredom quotient! Unfortunately, the suggested fix would completely undermine the spirit of the story I've been writing.

So, I ask the story goddess, what's this author to do? Trash two years of work and go hide under a rock? It's tempting. But I know from experience that notes like this--no matter how bluntly delivered--and the suggested fixes--no matter how ill-fitting--point to underlying holes. The interesting thing about the betrayal suggestion is that it actually speaks to the theme of the story, which revolves around the dynamic tension of betrayal vs. loyalty.

I realize and fully admit that there's no single bad guy in the story. EGADS! How could I have proceeded without this essential element? But, in the author's defense, I've stayed true to many futuristic settings-- the true antagonist is the most insidious kind because it masquerades as law and order and security. But the social order and laws that control the characters and their world are founded on greed and power. In short, the society may feel secure, but it's Evil.

The story goddess says look at the beginning and make the threat from the true antagonist more threatening and palpable. Because this is a novel for young people and for my own philosophical reasons, I've been shying away from violence as a way to demo the threat. Perhaps it's time to reconsider how I set up the story world.

In praise of addiction (at least this one)

It’s the season when many folks make resolutions to give up addictions, whether they be to drugs--legal and illegal, wreckless spending habits, or any other self-destructive mental attitude. I’m not willing to give up my addiction, though. I don’t believe it’s a self-destructive habit, though it often keeps me awake at odd hours or takes precedence over optional meetings. I’m talking about my addiction to writing.

I used to think I was the only one who named her writing "addiction." But read what John Vorhous says in his Dec. 25th posting about.  Once again I'm not alone! Though some brag about their morally superior self-discipline, I know that I'm not that morally superior. (Apparently J.V.'s not that morally superior either.) The truth is, I can't control myself. Writing is my favorite habit. 

When I’m focused completely on the emotional point of a scene and how best to clarify that moment and a character’s intention. I'm solving a glorious, intricate puzzle. Everything else falls away. All the stress over past mistakes or future choices recedes into the background. Any anxiety over health challenges for myself or my family takes a vacation. And most welcome, the fear of finishing a satisfying story disappears. All I need to think about is the present moment of the scene.

I've been practicing meditation--or trying to. But I keep coming back to the awareness of my thoughts: that writing is a neat combination of meditation and game play. Relax, focus, go into alpha state and have fun at the same time. No wonder I'm addicted.

I made it across the quagmire.

I finished my young adult novel GREEN TARA: A Space Adventure! (I'm talking New Year's Eve and not the Thanksgiving completion schedule I'd hoped for, but hey, I squeaked under the 2007 wire well before midnight.)

New Year's Day I celebrated by polishing little mechanical details in the manuscript and grooming the spacing and page breaks.

This morning I asked a handful of readers to examine my baby with their expert editorial eyes.

I feel --

MERRY MERRY HAPPY HAPPY JOYFUL JOYFUL MERRY MERRY HAPPY HAPPY JOYFUL JOYFUL MERRY MERRY HAPPY HAPPY JOYFUL JOYFUL