Rewrite in Progress

On January 1 of this year I made it to "the end" of a draft in first person of my MG novel, Green Tara. w00t!

Now, I'm going through the manuscript chapter by chapter, revising for clarity and revealing more of how the character feels. (I'm especially conscious of adding the emotional connection to the M.C. per the advice of my writing group. Slavedrivers:-)

Simultaneously, I'm going through the manuscript page by page, grooming every sentence and every phrase. And I'm experimenting with twitter by tweeting daily about the story. Yes, indeed. I'm story tweeting now.:-)

If you're interested follow my story tweets @thestorygoddess.

Wisdom from Jim Fisher

Monday Jim Fisher visited my class and lead a workshop in which we developed a couple of story ideas. Both students already had concepts, but one of Jim's gifts is to marry dramatic structure to a crisis of choice for the main character. In class we brainstormed what that crisis would be for each of the stories and what elements would be in place to bring the characters to that terrible place. Both students left with juicier stories.

Here's the essence of what Jim, an alumn of Second City and a working writer with numerous credits for both film and television, taught us:

Understand that if we give a fictional character an easy choice, we get: Who cares? But give a fictional character an impossible choice, say between rescuing her mother and saving the Earth, and we get some heat.

About three-quarters of the way through a story--the Act II climax, a.k.a. the Central Ordeal, a.k.a. Plot Point II, for those who like to locate a turning point in dramaturgy terms--Jim says put the hero in a situation that's "the exact opposite of where the character wants to be. . . . on the horns of the dilemma."

Thanks, Jim, for serving as my muse.

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.

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.

Skipping through a Perfection Quagmire

I'm finally half-way into my novel Green Tara. In previous posts I've confessed how much more slowly this rewrite--I hope final draft-- is going than I had hoped. It always takes longer than I hope but, shucky darn, I thought my good planning had created useful shortcuts in the l-o-n-g rewriting process. And I know better than to get stuck in a perfection quagmire. Apparently that was wishful thinking on both counts. So, in an effort to coach myself here are --

SEASONAL TIPS for skipping through a perfectionist's quagmire:

• Read the first paragraph of A CHRISTMAS CAROL by Charles Dickens. Treat yourself to the second paragraph.
• Kick some snow. Treat yourself to hot cocoa.
• Watch a classic film like CHRISTMAS IN CONNECTICUT and learn how a professional woman's public persona can be most effective when it's a well-crafted piece of fiction. (Hey. It worked for Barbara Stanwyck. She got a raise and the love of her life!)
• Make paper snowflakes with someone under 12. Treat everyone in the house to hot cocoa.
• Meditate on the difference between a baby and a world-class leader. Notice which one gets the star. Now go celebrate that work in progress and know when it comes of age it just may turn the world upside down.

The Three C's

I don't remember where I heard or read this story guideline, so I can't give credit. But, it's easy and important to remember.

The three C's of story:
Character
Circumstances
Choice

TIP: Though fiction rarely sticks to the facts, it will always document emotional truth.

Story Alchemy

I outline my stories, because I need to know where I'm going or I get lost and lose heart and quit. But I advise my students never to mistake the outline or story map with the journey.

A story is not a sum of all its parts or a simple string of scenes. A story has emotional pull. A story creates a sense of satisfaction and completeness. This comes from forcing a character to make a moral choice: to act or not to act. The key behind the choice is the main character's internal change. It's a character who changes deep down inside who moves us emotionally.

And therein lies the magic.

Is it good enough?

I'm having a heck of a time making any progress on my full-length story GREEN TARA. It's driving me crazy. My deadline's the end of the month and I'm barely out of the starting block. The problem is, I'm writing this draft for someone else to read and evaluate. If this was my first draft, I'd be gleefully blazing through the story because my primary goal would be to simply string together the story and allow the characters some room to emerge and take charge. But in my fourth draft I'm plagued by all those devilish fears. Will it be picked up? Is it good enough?

The antidote to fear--I know from experience--is to get back to basics and trust the process. Here's how it works:

START (Getting bum into chair can be the toughest part.)
1. Plan the energetic drive of the next scene.

2. Write the scene as quickly as possible. (Or, in my case, rewrite.)

3. Keep going without going back.

ON THE NEXT DAY (Get bum into chair.)

• Reread the most recent new scene--NEVER EVER go back to scenes written more than one day before--and edit for clarity and flow and dramatic juice.
• Move on to the next scene - repeating the above process (1-3), except it's easier because we've already gotten past the most difficult part, START.

If the goal is to write one new scene per day, I'm always editing one scene from the previous day and writing one new scene. So the progress is one back, two forward: netting one new scene per day. Unfortunately, I'm really behind, so I'm in the three scenes back, six forward category.

View from my Hammock

Two days ago I knew I had a last of season opportunity for a swing in my hammock, courtesy of this glorious maple tree above my head and a sister hickory holding up my feet. I took the better part of an hour to snap shots while the light was good. The characters in my novel celebrate the life of the natural world. I felt it would be disingenuous for me to do less.

Philosophy aside, the benefits were clear. The fresh air filled me with so much energy I was able to easily tackle a tricky part of my Green Tara rewrite. I cut three scenes, reordered the ten scenes before and after the cut scenes, and revised one significantly to fit the new content. Yes, I still have to string them all together and revise for flow, but the outlining work is done. I have a plan.

Today the temperature dropped 20 degrees and most of these leaves are on the ground. And I have a solid plan to take me through Act I.

Write what you know

This morning I detected a lot of uncertainty. I heard, I'm "thinking about..." and I'm still "figuring out" from many of the writers in the room. This feeling goes with the territory. It is common for all writers at many stages of story development. So, know that you're in good company.
Two things to say to ourselves to overcome the fear, what if it's terrible?:
1. K.I.S.S., Keep It Simple, Sweetheart. (Remember: circle, triangle, square, trapezoid)
&
2. Write what you know. This doesn't mean every event or every character comes from personal experience. This means start with the story points or character points that you know. For example, if you haven't yet determined the main character's super objective, a.k.a. action throughline, look at all the story events you've collected and see if any of them fit into stages of the hero's journey. Perhaps clarity about the bigger arc will emerge. AND IT MEANS, above all, WRITE. "Thinking about" or "figuring out" the story are meaningless activities. WRITE. Because, writing is a process and we discover what we don't know about the story and the character by writing.