During Labor Day weekend, I caved, turned on Netflix, and watched it. You know very well what ‘it’ I am referring to- I know you do. Unless you live in a cave (or were out of the states during its release, like me), you saw the ripples of Stranger Things across the Internet over the summer. The title-card-turned-meme, the fanart, and the endless stream of season 2 theories. I sat down knowing next to nothing about the series; I finished it in two sittings, all teary-eyed and breathless by the last episode. I had laughed, cried, and left a little skittish to enter dark rooms. The latest in the lineup of original Netflix programming, Stranger Things takes the viewer down the rabbit hole and back to 1983, where paranormal horrors are unleashed on the small town of Hawkins, whisking away a young Will Byers in the process. We follow several characters in the aftermath: the intrepid, geeky trio of Will's friends. his despairing family, the gruff town sheriff.a starry-eyed teenager, and a mysterious girl with a shaved head and love of Eggos. It’s beyond a decent description though. It is a love letter to Poltergeist, E.T., The Goonies, and the original Star Wars trilogy, but as universal a story as any those films put together. And Stranger Things is a, well, strange entry to the ranks of American television. Rounding off at just eight episodes for its first season, it’s quite short, especially when compared to its genre counterparts like Supernatural or The X-Files. But it works, and works where many, many paranormal series have failed in the past: it tries and succeeds in telling a story. Not to say other series don’t have merits- they do. But in an effort to keep people hooked a little longer, many series lose their heart along the way. Recent trends find TV shows, and movies, and even books hyper-extended with convoluted plot-lines, unresolved character arcs, and cliffhanger finales thinly veiled as sales bills for the next season/film/novel. We are knee-deep in a media that relies very heavily on the sequel, second season, and whatever viewership can be garnered from a returning audience. The resulting content can be… lackluster, at best. The aforementioned Supernatural is often found guilty of stretching its story and characters to the point that Sam and Dean’s adventures mean very little after a few seasons. In the popular Once Upon a Time, its witty fairytale-based plot and sometimes dynamic characters became buried by cameos and romance plots. Game of Thrones veered off of Martin’s plot recently to keep the series going, and is fairly critiqued for overusing sex and violence to sell itself (this is also fair game for shows like Outlander, Penny Dreadful, and many of their MA-kin). Stranger Things challenges this trend with bold, broad strokes, opening in cinematic fashion and capturing your attention for the next eight episodes. Finishing its story during that time, which surprised me. From all the anguished comments online about the ending, I expected a cruel and unusual cliffhanger. The ending is though, without spoilers, a tidy and complete thing. A few bread crumbs are left to keep the series open, but the majority of Stranger Things season 1 is wrapped up by the final episode. It occurred to me right then the Stranger Things doesn’t really leave you waiting; it leaves you wanting. You experience the show. You become enveloped in all its rich 80’s culture, music and pop culture throwbacks alike. Your heart wrenches for every character in some way, and you’ve picked a few favorites by the end (Joyce Byers and Mike are mine- and hey! Who doesn’t love Eleven?). You care deeply and wonderfully about what happens to these fictional people, and within a very short amount of time. I'm inclined to compare it, in more modern terms, to films like Guardians of The Galaxy. The Marvel-verse is often more about interconnected movies, and very few of its films stand alone. This is why I love Guardians above all of the the other Marvel films, because it maintains a simple story and uses strong, lovable characters to keep us entertained, rather than becoming tangled in an extended narrative. Masterful solo storytelling is its own art form, and there is a lot to be gleaned from series like Stranger Things and its bravery. We are not staying for an over-teased romance arc or a long shot of the lead actress in a sheerer-than-needed dress. Something else draws us in. As a writer, you cannot help but notice that the series’ plot is simple, but deep. I think of plots a little like plots of earth, flat at a glance, but deeper and richer when we dig. Each character Stranger Things is a person with their own motive, each sweep of the plot is surprising and evocative. By allowing the story and characters to carry over to the audience, the series becomes more complex and enriching without extending beyond its means. We stay for three boys’ journey to find their friend, and we are rewarded for it. With an expanding fanbase and the recently announced 2nd season, you cannot help but admire the little series for winning people over simply by telling a good story. It does my heart good as a storyteller, because it reminds us of something important in good writing. Maybe this show will do more than remind you that “Africa” by Toto is pretty awesome, or create a resurgence in D&Dcampaigns (c’mon, you know it’s about to happen). Maybe Stranger Things will set a new stage for entertainment, promising quality in the face of quantity. Because depth and heart are all you really need to draw the viewers in, and make stories truly memorable.
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Let’s take a moment to appreciate the little device you have sitting in your lap, or in your hands, or however you are reading this article. The advent of the Internet is wonderful, changing the way most of us live, learn, work, and generally function. I was around 11 when I first stumbled onto Fanfiction.net, roving the internet for fan sites about Teen Titans and Kim Possible. 11-year-old me had been writing for awhile, putting down small stories about unicorns and my pets on construction paper. Fan fiction was an eye-opener though, cracking open a wide, wild world of writing communities and editing teams. This is why I would spend the next five years working out of several fandoms and writing groups with my own creations. Fanfiction was a weirder spot for fans then and gets a bad reputation to this day. A wasted effort at best, and a niche corner for fandom smut at worst. Fanfiction writers still had a bad reputation with the publishing company I worked for, which was ironically inspired into existence of one of the world’s most successful fanfics, 50 Shades of Grey. I’m far from alone though. The art of fanfiction dates back to old fanzines and stories passed around conventions. Many published writers talk about their early experiences writing fanfiction, and as the next generation comes into its own, many of its young authors describe similar early days writing for Sailor Moon, Star Wars, and Harry Potter bases. Fanfiction has changed into a sort of training ground for authors, allowing them to set their own building blocks for fanbases and inspire their own new headcanons. The experiences and efforts I personally had with fanfiction made my later transition into novelist a lot smoother, and my own first steps into real marketing easier. The fun, fandom-based things I did truly shaped the way I write and create today, and so, here are the five best things I took away from those days. 1. Your Plot; Someone’s Else World In Jeff Vandermeer’s Wonderbook, there are several great pieces about ‘playacting’ and the costumes authors wear while they are learning their craft. The articles describe the importance of recognizing that we will emulate in order to come into out own voice. I’ll be frank when and say no one is original to start: we do not come into creativity like gifts from God, we learn it by way of imitation. We are Dr. Frankensteins in our own right, taking pieces and parts from the stories we love and clumsily stitching them together, Fanfiction might be the safest place to practice this art since it is not only embraced, but considered a major part of said writing. Characters and landscapes can be borrowed in favor of crossovers or AUs, giving young writers a space to experiment with their own ideas, masquerading under a story that already has the stage set. The same rule applies to RP writing in ways (something I’ve also done), which allows participants to craft stories in a pre-crafted world, giving them the freedom to experiment and make mistakes as needed. Good writing, after all, only comes from the lessons we learn about how not to write. 2. Early Critique No one likes critique, I suspect. We, at best, understand that critique is important to improvement and not usually personal. Nevertheless, there is always that moment before you open a new review or a message from a beta-reader- that second where your blood runs cold with dread. Fanfiction was no exception to that rule, and depending on where you found yourself in a writing community, you could expect as much critique as the average editor. There is art to giving an honest critique, and a humbleness you learn by taking one. Some of my earliest criticisms came from writing fanfics, and they were hard to take for awhile, though they benefited my work in the long run. I learned what was an important critique and what was not. They also toughened me up by the time I started sharing my original work, which still gets its fair share of critique; I was much better prepared at that point though (…mostly anyway). 3. Marketing If one thing gives authors more anxiety than critique, it is the prospect of marketing. The complicated, technical, and infuriating world of promotion has only grown with the advent of social media, opening avenues for wider audiences with every new profile we build. One of the earliest lessons you gather when writing on sites like Fanfiction (and even bigger sites like AO3 and Wattpad) is that marketing is key. Outreach is your friend and community building as much your strength as the words you write. Without realizing, I got very good at planting roots and gaining readers, making efforts to be a part of the fandom and making connections along the way. A finger on the pulse of your readers and fellow fans means you can predict what they may want, and what’s more, how your voice fits amongst them. 4. The Mary Sue (or Marty Stu) You’re looking at that title, and probably thinking: “There’s nothing remotely positive about a Mary Sue! They suck as characters!” And I agree with you, which is why they need to be written. At 13, I had two original magically-inclined characters for both my fanfictions and RPs that were almost identical in power, personality, and appearance (including colored highlights/black hair, since “you won’t let me do that myself, Mom.”) The Mary Sue and Marty Stu are natural parts of creative process, since all first writing endeavors become autobiographical- you don’t escape that. In a lot of ways, you never really escape it, since characters continue to represent parts of yourself: the Mary Sue is just hyperactive, undeveloped version of this. Much like borrowed landscapes/stories, fanfics are one of the safest places for young writers to unleash the self-insert character, giving a space to cobble together early characters and learn how characterization works. We may flinch at them now, but Mary Sues are the just early steps toward truly interesting characters. Expressing them is how we to grow out of them. 5. Writing for You While a tad contradictory to all the previous talk about marketing, it’s good to remember that all writing is first and foremost about you, and what makes you happy. Stories are often thankless, tireless, busy things, with little reward for efforts (even when it comes to published work). Fanfiction is written for free and sometimes, in the wake of big numbers and larger readerships, we get wrapped up in putting out what we know will bring crowds. The few times I tried this almost killed my interest in any writing, given how passionless my fanfic work became. Readers are amazing, and popularity is always fun. Still, no matter the base you work with and no matter how popular you are, it is so important to write what you love. That spark is what keeps us writing through fanfiction and well beyond it, when all else fails. And really, skill reflects best when we are true to ourselves. What are your experiences with writing fanfiction, and do they still reflect on your writing now? Are there any other benefits (or drawbacks) to a background in fanfiction? The first time I flew on a plane, I was seven-years-old and headed to Disney World with my family. It was a pre-9/11 world, but flying still frightened me enough that I burst into tears as we prepared to take off. I still vividly remember a flight attendant handing me a plastic winged metal to mark my first time in the air, all smiles and cheer. I haven’t been scared to fly since. Still, I said goodbye to my family and crossed through the TSA on June 19th, 2016. I was bawling by the time I found my gate. Some things don’t change, I suppose. Eight months ago, I got one of those “golden opportunities” that everyone likes talking about. The kind that don’t happen to people, realistically anyway. The CEO of a indie publishing website I had long inhabited offered me a community management job. I often joked that this job was “$11 an hour to play on Facebook all day”, but I managed the entirety of the company’s social media, most author-related projects, and generally kept their community happy. Big job, and it got even bigger when I was invited to spend two weeks working at the home office in Berlin. Another two weeks to do whatever I wanted in Europe. A few months of extensive planning later, I had flights and hotels lined up for Berlin, Rome, Paris, London, and Dublin. I was traveling abroad for the first time, and I was going it alone. “Are you sure about that?” I got asked this question (and variations of it) a lot. I got asked if my longtime boyfriend couldn’t join me. I got disbelieving looks, because I’m 5’2, a young woman, and generally considered what we would call a "country mouse." In the small percentage of Americans that travel abroad, less travel alone and even less of those are women. I remembered that while I sat at my gate, wiping my eyes as I blared Amanda Palmer over headphones and watched the plane I was about to board. “Am I sure about this?” The answer was no. I boarded my plane anyway. Since that first flight two months ago, I have become hopelessly in love with transit days. The in-between days of trains, airport transfer buses, and plane seats. They are slow, and draggy, yet enthralling for the simple act of travel. The anticipation of a new country and an imagination running wild for what you’ll see when you get there (you are always wrong, and it is always awesome). When I finally made the hop from Newark to Berlin, I had no idea what I was getting into. I didn't know Berlin was so diverse, beautiful and so very huge. My first stop in Europe, with the least amount of English of all my stops. Two weeks there on my own. No pressure. The first three days were the scariest. I quickly discovered my former employer was disinterested in helping me navigate the basics of living in Germany, so early hurdles such as the U-Bahn (Berlin’s metro system) and figuring my way around signs dotted my time in the city. To a tune of wicked jet lag, I worked long office hours and commuted back and forth across the vast city. One night heading back, the German writing in the metro turned me around and I ended up on the opposite side of Berlin around midnight. The metro shuts down at 1am. It was a rather unnerving adventure getting home. I also had the pleasant experience of finding out that my train ticket, which my employer picked for me, was only worth a week’s worth of U-Bahn rides, but only after after a 60 euro fine and an anxious trip to the German equivalent of the DMV. I had never gotten a ticket in my life: this one makes for an interesting story, at the very least. At the same time, I quickly discovered how beautiful Berlin was. Majesty and creativity marry beautifully in the streets, where street art dots anything it can touch and history seeps out of the city's pores. Brass stolperstein mark Jewish lives on the cobblestone. East Side Gallery sprawls around its block with flooring imagery. I went to Brandenburg Gate on the same day as a football match, so the whole are had been transformed into a viewing area, complete with a truck-sized screen and food vendors. There was a thrill about joining the crowd of a thousand Berliners, passionate and joyful for every goal their team scored. Germany won the game, too. There is a peace to Berlin, too. Due to its central position and policies, Germany has one of the most diverse populaces of any European country. Every day at my flat was a new one, sharing a building with college students from Germany, France, Haiti, Norway, Russia, South Africa, and yes, even America. We exchanged stories in the elevator, held doors, and offered helping hands where needed. I was offered food and, more often, beer when coming in at night. I found the same in the office, where my co-workers had flocked from all over the world. Our neighboring restaurant was run by a Russian family, who spoke only their native tongue and German. They called me the “pretty North European girl”, and smiled whenever I came in to order lunch with rough sign language. I also frequented a kiosk down the street (which are like gas station stores in America): the Turkish man that worked there had come from Istanbul two years before, with his young daughter. Our exchanges were awkward and messy until one day, when I apologized for my bad German while buying ice cream. He shakes his head and says, “In my country, we say that when you eat and drink in a place, it is your home too.” I think I visited him every day after that. The instant understanding and compassion of Berlin was incredible, and humbling, because I kept thinking back to my home. Back where there had been screaming over immigrants from Mexico and Syria, whichever was the latest ‘threat’ to the American public. I thought about that as I wandered around this big city with little to no German experience, in a culture vastly different from my hometown of 10,000 people. I thought about the challenges I had living in such a place, on my own, for a mere two weeks. And then I considered what it would be to move here- to pack what I could carry and settle where no one spoke my language or knew my customs. Where everyone screamed for me to ‘go back where I came from’. By the time my two weeks in Berlin were up, I had seen and done a great deal in the city. I had experienced so much of the beauty and strength of the city, and still, there was so much more left to experience. It was worth every second, difficult or otherwise. Given the chance, I would love to return to Berlin one day, and I'm so glad it was my first European experience. It helped set the stage for my next stop, Rome, and helped prepare me for the next two weeks of incredible travel. “I have this idea… What do you think?” I’ve likely had this conversation a hundred times now, at my local cafes or over Facebook, and always around October. They start around this time of year, well before November. People begin prepping Pinterest boards and stocking up on caffeine. Their social media fills with writing advice, cute blurbs tagged under “#nanowrimo2016”, vague posts about their big project. National Novel Writing Month, otherwise known as NaNoWriMo. The web writing sensation that begins on November 1st, and always comes with the intent to "get people writing." Your goal with NaNoWriMo is simple: reach 50,000 words before the end of the month. For those interested in the numbers, that's around 1,500 words a day, every day, for 30 days. Some amazing novels have actually come out of the NaNoWriMo scene: Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell and The Night Circus by Erin Morganstern were both penned in 30 November days, YA author Marissa Meyer has used the month to start novels and novellas for her Lunar Chronicles series. Hundreds of great stories have made it to market, indie or otherwise, with the help of this challenge. I love all of these books so much. I still dislike NaNoWriMo. I really dislike NaNoWriMo. I dislike NaNo in the way American retail workers dislike Christmas. For a while, I couldn’t figure out what exactly it was that irked me about the writing challenge, since I had actually done it once or twice. Not in November, though: I had been in the middle of two different novels, in the middle of two different summers. I hit a point with every project where the momentum picks up the right way and I fly with the book, clipping through 1, 500-2,000 words a day. Each time is a delightful, restless, tea-fueled journey where I would write until dawn and exist almost solely on creative energy. Surely something like NaNoWriMo would be up my alley, given my own habits? But I’ve never joined in on NaNoWriMo or planned a new project around it, mostly because of the things I see NaNoWriMo evolve into, and some of the bad habits I see it create for fledgling authors. I’ve dissected some of these on my personal blog, but I think it’s time we dig into the issue of NaNoWriMo with a little more depth. So, back to the "I have an idea" part of NaNo. Because ideas are great: ideas are the seeds of good writing. Ideas are not books though, and it’s often difficult to gauge a project’s worth of time based on a few rough character descriptions and a summary you have pulled from an online prompt. Not dogging either (since I use them both, too), but these things do not a book make. These things can lead to a draft though, if you can sit down and write it. I find the “ass-in-chair-and-fingers-to-keys” part is where a lot of people trip up because they learn very quickly that writing 1,500 words a day isn’t easy as it looks, and it rarely looks that easy to begin with. I know authors that can churn out 2,000 words every day that they write: I know authors who put down 200 words once and awhile. Writing is as personal in pace as it is in style, so the techniques that work for some may not work for all. 1,500 words a day is a skill you learn with time, and not a needed skill for finishing a novel. “Writing books is easy. It’s only 50,000 words and I have the time.” To which I always sigh. These words always undercut two big parts about the novel. 1. Writing books is the most artistic form of torturing yourself over imaginary people and situations. There are easier ways to entertain yourself, I'll be honest with you. 2. Most books aren’t 50,000 words. We can talk about The Great Gatsby and minimal novel length all we want, but modern novels, especially in fantasy and science fiction, tend to go over the 100,000 word mark and well beyond it. Also, novels do not end after you put “The End” on your first draft. Editing can (and will) take up time. One of the biggest issues I take with the NaNo mindset is that it’s used as a springboard to “get people writing” without giving people the proper disclaimer that writing doesn’t end or begin with writing itself. Between the planning, drafting, editing, and beta-reading, it’s taken near three years to finish my first novel and draft a second. A month of work stops being a meaningful thing when a project begins to span over years. That doesn’t discount the amazing free-fall of one month, but most writing projects expand well beyond that point, and I’ve watched so many new writers miss that. “I don’t need to make a plan though. I can wing it.” To which I will tell you no, no you can’t. Some of us can fly by the seat of our pants, but but most of us aren’t organized enough to finish a draft, much less in a month. This is the very mindset that fuels the essays written the night before their deadline, or the millions of half-baked romance e-novellas on Kindle: minimal effort for the same expected payoff. Prep and planning and time can mean the difference between dropping a draft at 5,000 words and pushing over 150,000 words (as much of a pain as the latter is to edit- better to have more than less). When we talk about these successful authors like Rowell or Meyer, who use NaNo to complete drafts, we should also recall that Rowell and Meyer are authors with previous experience. Authors who had several novels under their belt and a grasp of their style/voice. It almost sounds discouraging to use their works as banners for a project that’s targeted at fresh-faced writers. It sells and simplifies a process so much bigger than 50,000 words and a few nightly writing binges. A process that is rarely ever as rewarding or glamorous as the Rowlings and Martins of the world make it out to be. Most all of us can create, but being an actual author is a very different skill. So, to you all out there, as prepare your outlines, make character sheets, and finalize those writing playlists, you have my best regards for your November drafts. Remember though, that all books are much bigger than NaNoWriMo. If writing novels were as simple as 30 days of work, it would be a much less demanding, selfish, and beautiful act. It’s a fine time to be a writer, isn’t it? With the changing tides of the 21st century and the flexibility of self-publishing, the average writer is free to publish and share more diverse fiction with the rest of the world. Multi-cultural and racially diverse main characters are a slow- but sure norm. LGBT representation has become recurrent and important part of the media. The possibilities are an endless cornucopia for the growing number of open-minded readers and viewers. And still, some old tropes have failed to die to the wake of change. A very popular pair, in fact, still root up in the corners of fiction today: Strong Female Characters© and Sensitive Male Characters©. And I do not mean actual characters who fall under the category of having these traits, I am referring to characters who become these traits. Characters who are defined by their strengths or weaknesses in personality, like fighter stats in a video game manual. In the name of breaking gender expectations, these two will often appear to give a story a fresh approach to the male or female perspective. But is this reversal of roles truly commentary, or just a lazier attempt to avoid sexism? The Strong Female Character© is a frequent flier of Young Adult fiction and its close cousin, Paranormal Romance. She is often characterized by her plainness, but also that she is “not like other girls.” She will hold her own in every fight she gets in. She will be well versed in some form of combat or magic, but still clumsy and “relatable.” Occasionally, this character will still have to deal with a love triangle or troublesome, brooding boyfriend, but her woes will (usually) stay focused on saving the world from the ultimate evils. The Sensitive Male Character© is an equally familiar player of Young Adult fiction, and reoccurring in Romance novels. Not always the lead, but forever a prime cast member, he will be more “gentle than other men.” He will have complex emotions and the hobbies to match, such as poetry, knitting, and expressing his constant inner monologue to the unwitting audience. He will have a dark, tragic past and darker long eyelashes, which shadow over his cheeks as he cries in open abandon in front of an empathetic love interest. The problem with these characters is not the characters themselves, but the lack of character they often present. The banner of progressive writing is used to defend these types, citing that the help bring us away from the more cliché male and female roles that sometimes overtake the majority of fiction. Indeed, we’ve earned every reason to create more diversity than the strapping hero and swooning damsel, but just like these old characters, Strong Females and Sensitive Males fail to be the thing characters most deserve being: people. My favorite (or least favorite, if you like) examples of these types are from books, for the life of me, I tried to enjoy. Tessa Gray of The Infernal Devices by Cassandra Clare has all the makings of an interesting character, her strength tempered by Victorian age manners and her troubling magical ability forced into her life by the story’s antagonists. During the first novel of the trilogy, Tessa’s quiet struggle with her new magic and the search for her missing brother set the building blocks for an incredibly strong, clever, and complex heroine. This potential is then scraped in the second and third book, where her ability and character development take the back-burner for the story’s love triangle. She is forever described as ‘strong-willed’ and ‘clever’ by the main cast, but her character becomes inconsistently powerful, reduced to a few fight scenes, melodrama, and the unearthing of her backstory. She actually spends a third of the last book captured by the main villain, only to unleash the power she had “all along” on him in the last few chapters- after her love interest has shown up. The resulting finale feels lackluster, and Tessa has changed very little aside from what physical (or magical) strength she presents. A lesser known book, Mary Lindsay’s Ashes on The Waves, is the home of Liam MacGregor, the troubled lead of a Edgar Allen Poe-based fantasy story, where murder and romance overtake the peace of a secluded Irish village. I could write another blog on the problems surrounding this book (which included a frequent, jarring change between first and third person in the middle of chapters), but let’s focus on Liam for now. Secluded by the superstitious villagers and deformed from birth, our main character spends the majority of the book doing one of three things: lamenting over his isolation, pining over his horrible love interest, or reading editions of Keats and Wordsworth. What could be sympathetic and likable quickly turns to character decay as we are reminded again and again just how sensitive Liam is. By the end of the novel, we know very little else about Liam other than his sensitivity. The problem with both of these characters, as I’ve realized, is the idea at the core of their traits: that sensitivity is feminine and strength is masculine. And here is where we fail over and over as writers, when we choose to write characters that detract from the norm. Ignoring the presence of patriarchy and its effects on a real world setting can leave a story discombobulated. Sensitivity and strength are not mutually inclusive, and to call them forth with the stereotypical traits of the other gender does not actually defeat the gender stereotype. You just enforce it tenfold. I have never read a better bit of advice than “characters are people first.” Just like people, they rarely fall to one side of traits or the other, and exemplify strength in all sorts of colorful ways. We are more complex than the archetypes we create; we are creatures full of dimensions and shadows that deserve the attention of writing. Diversity is often more than reversing the expected traits of a particular gender/race/nationality, but challenging oneself to dig deeper, finding the person a character is outside of their labels and creeds. Only then do we truly stopping breaking stereotypes badly. (originally published here). This week, I return to editing. I unpack my pens, take out my notebooks and open my word processor to the same opening chapter, visiting familiar first lines I have visited hundreds of times before—begrudging passes and red ink at 3:00 a.m. with only caffeine to fuel me. It's nothing new for me. My world seems to always come back to editing at some point. In 2013, I started and finished a journey in writing my first novel. Quite coincidentally, I began attending college around the same time. A full plate of writing and essays since entering school and an even bigger project when I realized that my lovely first draft of a novel was not finished until I had edited it. For most students, the idea of editing the average essay is a painful thought. My novel had landed somewhere around 155,000 words. It fills me with dread just thinking about it. After three years of working, college and writing in conjunction, I've learned a thing or two about the editing process. That which has brought out the best in my academic writing has, in turn, brought my novel where it is today. The struggle is ever-present and complicated, but these are a few of the best pointers I've found for editing one's writing, both creative and professional. Distance is key. Contrary to the popular trend of the all-nighter, most of us need more time to edit than 24 hours (not to say I haven't been there, but hear me out). Any time we write a first draft, we are only experiencing what Terry Pratchett called “telling ourselves the story.” Whether it's a 2,000 word essay or a 50,000 word novel, early drafts tend to spill out in messy, unpolished concepts. Revision and editing are not new applications to remedy the chaos of a first draft, but distance is often very important in churning out quality products. I usually give 48 hours to return to papers for classes, and a minimum of two weeks before returning to any creative project. The less familiar you are with your work, the easier it will be to edit and find your own errors in the long run. Kill your darlings. The art of writing is paired, hand in hand, with the art of deleting. Another quote about writing often coined and used is the famous “kill your darlings," meaning we must part with aspects of our projects, even if we love them. Once you're put some distance between you and the draft, you often find yourself with a slew of content you no longer need. After multiple edits, actually, a work can begin to reshape or even change altogether. Some of the most difficult points in the writing process are where you have a piece that you absolutely, completely and totally adore, and it no longer fits with the rest of the work. I tend to keep a file for deleted scenes or sentences I'm fond of. They always find their way back into your writing, one way or another. Sacrificing words from a work will often strengthen it, in the long run. The more eyes, the better. When all editing is said and done and you have properly cleaned up your work, it is in your best interest to hand off your writing to a few trusted friends and well-read eyes. For some, the idea of opening an unfinished work to criticism causes more anxiety than finishing the work itself. Nevertheless, there is something great about the presence of a reader in a project. My beta-readers, past and present, have been some of the most valuable voices in changes and last edits. They can catch errors, continuity problems and tone changes that you might have otherwise missed. It can be a frightening part of the editing process, but worth the bravery it can take. What are your favorite pieces of editing advice, or tricks that get you through a drafts? Do your processes differ with your creative and academic work? “This will be the last piece.” The words run through my mind, lodged somewhere between wake and sleep. And the pillars. I remember the pillars this time. I let the sweat drip from my brow freely, opening my eyes to the bedroom ceiling. Already hating its shell-colored, rough texture. The white keeps the pillars in mind though. Their dark, elegant shadows and scaling frames. Their crisp ivory, so soft against the black sharpness of night. Ivy had wound its around the few broken trunks, perhaps felled by cannon fire. I scan the room without moving, remembering my surroundings calmly. No need to panic over that carpeted floor anymore, or the plastic blinds, or the… what’s that word? Flatscreen- yes, flatscreen TV that hangs from the wall. My inhuman reflection stares back at me from inside the black surface. Light streams from under the bathroom door; the shower runs hot enough to send steam into the already-warm bedroom. Wiping my face down, I roll over in bed. Stella’s side is empty, giving me a clear view of the digital clock that occupies her nightstand. Its hellish red glow informs me that it is 8:37am. I just grimace, knowing the morning sun could tell me the exact thing. If that woman would leave open the curtains like I asked. But then she’s not Stella. Not my Stella. Pillars. The last piece. I keep the words fresh as I slid from the covers, moving for the closet as quickly and quietly as possible. I reach for the topmost shelf, around old loafers and golfing accessories I don’t recall owning, and pull free my shoe box. I can scarcely keep my hands from shaking as I seat myself on the floor. I turn an ear to the bathroom, pleased to hear the shower is still running. I put the cover aside, retrieving my notepad and pencil. I find the nearest empty page and begin to write: Contact Dream #1,123 Date: January 22nd, 476 A.R. (Otherworld Date: 2000 and 8, A.D.) Memory Retrieved: Masonry pillars of town’s square. Color: ivory. Damaged (perhaps in recent war?) Memory Traded: Otherworld memories of a year in ‘kindergarten.’ I wrinkle my nose as I think back for those same kindergarten days, false though they are. I smile when I cannot retrieve them- even the word seems to be fading. A very small price to pay. I flip through my notepad quickly, scanning my entries from this past year. My trades flash before my eyes: my favorite song from 1997, my first job, the third date with this Stella, the color of my mother’s hair… I return to the new entry. I am careful as jot down the ever-present words of the Weaver. The last piece. Could it be? If this is truly the final memory of Home, it’s a somewhat anticlimactic one. I close the notepad, placing it back and covering the other three books I have filled. Every detail of Home’s dream from the past three Otherworld years. Every thought I have traded to keep those details in my mind. Fallacies, every traded memory. Lies. “Hey, babe? You up?” The bathroom room clicks open, wet feet connecting with the carpet. “Shit…” The curse leaves me in a whisper. I grimace over how comfortable it feels, but hustle the shoe box back into the far end of the closet. I’m so sick of sounding like my prison wardens. Stella slides into the room, wrapped in a simple towel. Her black hair falls short of her shoulders, water plastering it to her neck as it sends droplets down her bronze skin. She ruffles it out as she stands over the bed. A red gem pierces through the side of her nose and ink mars her left shoulder with an Otherworld peace sign. Its three bars are filled with the ever-familiar words, “Hope. Love. Faith.” “Michael?” Her eyes narrow further when she spots me across the room, shuffling my bare feet. She shrugs. “Oh, good. Thought I’d have to drag you out of bed again.” The comment is barbed, but I chuckle. “Still not a morning person. Getting better at it though.” Stella smirks back and undoes her towel, letting it drop as she opens her dresser drawers after her clothes. I try not to avert my eyes from her naked skin, because I shouldn’t. Because I have seen Stella, this one and mine, a thousand times before. She is my wife; we have four children. Or in this Stella’s case, she is my live-in girlfriend and fiancée. We have a cat named Toffy, who hisses whenever I’m home alone. Even he knows I’m not part of this world. I retreat into the bathroom and busy myself by brushing my teeth. “You remembered today’s appointment, right?” Stella’s back is turned to me when I peek out of the door again. Her hair has been wrapped in the towel as she has retrieves lacy underwear and a neon orange dress. She reaches over to her mirror to detach her bra from its corner. “With Martin?” I say, a mouthful of toothpaste muffling the name. “Yeah, I’m going at noon. After some more job hunting.” Stella hooks herself into her bra before looking back at me, a smile etching her angled face. “Awesome. I’ll leave you to that- brunch with Shelly and the girls today.” No surprise. This Stella goes out with her friends on every day off she gets. She really does hate more than a few hours of my presence. The feeling is mutual. “Aw,” I say. “Not gonna stay and cheer me up after the therapy session?” Stella just grunts, her back still turned. “It’s your last one. That should make you happy enough. I know I’m glad this is over.” Me, too. - Dr. Martin brushes back a loose strand of hair while she reads over my file, her clipboard giving me very little view of her face. That’s fine by me; I find her expressions grating usually. “Michael.” She lowers the file, revealing her horned glasses and stark eyes. “I must say I have seen a dramatic amount of improvement since we first started.” “Thank you,” I say. “These past sessions have been especially encouraging. Now, you said you were feeling more yourself since we started testing the sleeping pills? Fewer visions and issues with the insomnia?” “Definitely.” It’s a lie, as usual. “I have slept more soundly and productively than I have in months.” “A good sign, considering the accident’s effects.” Martin jots something onto the clipboard file, its horrid etch cutting into her words. The accident. The term for my entry point into Otherworld. This place often claims to me that I, this world’s Michael Cross, was driving with Stella on an unusually snowy day about four years ago. Michael Cross’ car then struck a patch of black ice, which sent his vehicle careening into the back end of an eighteen-wheeler. Such terrible things this prison can conjure. This world’s Stella had broken bones and repairable injuries. I returned to consciousness diagnosed with retrograde amnesia. After several lengthy months of testing, recovery, and therapists, my diagnosis was relabeled as false memory syndrome. I have “created a false world in the wake of losing my own.” But my memories were returning. Martin finishes her scribbling in silence, pleasant-looking as she no doubt fills my last prescription to treat the insomnia. To stop the listless nightmares and focus my thoughts. This story has become very useful, especially when I keep a log of my traded thoughts to bring to my sessions. Fresh stories for me to tell. She is far from the first doctor I have dealt with, but she is the first psychiatrist that has taken me since I have entered Otherworld. I think I unnerved the others too much. She is usually agreeable and willing to medicate issues when they fill her with concerns. “Right.” Martin drops her clipboard and rips the bottom half of the paper, freeing my final prescription. “This should cover you for the next month. The pills’ effects will probably take a couple months to wear off after that, but if you have any more trouble with… anything, feel free to give me a call.” “I’ll keep that in mind.” I take the prescription. “Thank you so much.” “You’re welcome, Michael,” she replies. - Arriving home, I find the lights are still off. Stella has not returned from lunch with her friends; it is nearly three in the afternoon. Toffy growls in my direction when I enter the kitchen, his brown-and-white shape vanishing into hall. I take a bottled water from the fridge, throw away the white paper of the pharmacy bag, and bring my pills to the bedroom. This is the last piece. I open the closet, fishing my memory box free once more. I kick off one- then both of my sneakers before crossing my legs and settling to the floor. I open the box, reviewing the memories over. And over, and over, and over… The last piece. My childhood. The last piece. My family. The last piece. My home. The Weaver calls. I crack open the orange container and place the top to my lips. Dry, rounded shapes fill my mouth, passing into my throat. I down half of the water bottle’s contents before their taste can make me sick. I send the sleeping pills into my stomach. - Thirty Otherworld minutes, and the pillars return to me through the smog. Brief obstructions before I settle into the dream, like a ripple calming in water. Home comes into view exactly where I left it. The great, winding pillars of the fallen capital are as gray as I recalled them, ivy consuming their every angle and grime covering their neglected angles. Gravel crunches under my bare feet, softer and kinder than I expected. I cross through the courtyard in breathless steps. It is only after passing the yard’s decorative pond do I realize that I am still wearing my jeans and button-down shirt. My socks are already filthy. I press on. The recollections of my last trip are vague as usual, but I know my way. I always know my way; the walled city only has so many exits and entrances to mind. I have mastered them since childhood, despite their shifting paths. I know the way to my home. To my Stella. Will I see Stella this time? How long has it been? How old are the children? The last piece… The Weaver. Overseer of my return. I feel his presence through the street’s air, moving down my spine and rustling through my air. His voice is a nothing- an everything. The beginning and ending of my home is the Weaver, of The Unseen. The elders only whisper of him under their breath, and fewer of them will utter his name in public. A presence of mystery; a creature of privacy. Oh, my fortune that he has chosen to save me from my prison. I cross through the roads, and somehow they, in turn, shape for me, easing my way. I see home. Home. Actual home. I’ve never gotten so close! Its tattered old walls and the roof I had promised to repair. The grass is dead with winter and the children have dug ruts into the dirt; Stella has hung the laundry to dry in the crisp air, and- oh, Stella! I see her in the window. A vague shadow that can only be hers. “Michael!” Stella’s scream enters my mind; my vision blurs and clears. I see Otherworld. My gaze is locked on that ugly, speckled ceiling of the bedroom. The other Stella kneels at my side, shrieking and tearful and cursing. The bottle of sleeping pills are perched in her hand. The blinds are open, so sunlight catches onto her nose ring. My inhuman reflection stares at me from the TV screen. This is the last piece, Michael. I breathe as the Weaver enters my ear, easing away my fears. Not real. I am real. I am home. I feel myself empty of Otherworld as I pass the vision along to the Weaver, its dark images fading from my mind as I walk to my front door. -
The longer amount of time I spend writing, the more I am reminded of how little I actually know about it. Just as we get older, our writing grows, changes, and evolves with age and every new word we put down. We find newer and cleverer ways to say ancient things, making the process of writing as personal as the growth of the self. I’ve especially learned this after working with a lot of writers over the past few months of my job, many of whom have eons more experience than I can account for. Everyone has a developed mantra and writing habits. This is even a bit true of the much younger writers I work with, but having been in their shoes, habits at that point are still very fluid and novice. You are impressionable and unsure if you are writing the “right way,” (hint: you are. For you, at the moment). Often, the internet is the biggest source for finding advice that clicks with your style, because there's nothing but wisdom on the internet, yes? If only. Since writing advice is often based on personal experience, suggestions on what “works” are more opinionated than actual gospel. There is no Right Way to write: only what works for you and what finishes stories. Nevertheless, there are several nuggets of internet wisdom that get passed around as writerly truth, even if they aren’t. These pieces are all well and good, but potentially harmful to the younger and more inexperienced of us. Even this article, by definition, is a little opinionated, but I still hope to dissect these writing ‘truths’, and why they don’t quite apply as well as hoped. - 1.“Research your genre before you write.” What that means: “Know what your reader expects, doesn’t expect, and how to draw them in better.” What it becomes: “Genre is law and an easy recipe for success.” This sentiment probably spurs from the more commonly used “read widely while writing”, which implies correctly that reading while you develop your writing skill helps you sharpen your work and read more critically. The next logical step would be, of course, studying your genre extensively to better understand what your audience knows/doesn’t know. In more experienced and craft-based hands, studying your genre is an excellent tool to help the writer better grasp their readers, but this advice just as easily becomes a weapon of mass destruction for younger writers' work. Studying your genre turns to emulation of genre and repetition of plotlines/characters. Early writing isn’t so much about testing your voice elsewhere, after all: it’s about figuring out what your voice is. If you haven't figured that out quite yet, genre-seeking will lack the depth you wish to gain. At worst, it can become a reliance on reader expectations and flat tropes, which your writing will likely read of. 2.“You can write a novel in a month.” What that means: “Practice your art at a sprint and flex your creative muscles.” What it becomes: “You can literally write a whole novel in a month.” Full disclaimer: I do not like NaNoWriMo in the slightest way. “Why?” you ask. “What’s wrong with NaNo? It encourages young writers to get out there and work. Some great books have come from the challenge!” “Agreed.” I say, but the successful stories in these sprints were often written by authors who had composed novels previously. There are aspects of NaNo that I have less respect for after actually writing 40k in a month, which was not a planned thing on my part. It was not a November, but July on both occasions. It was also the middle of a novel on both occasions, and I fell into that novel-length word count without really noticing. The thing about doing this though, was after these 40ks were done and the caffeine had run dry, I still had a lot of book to go. I still had revisions to go. I still had beta-readers and editors and a whole lot of chopping to do. Something that isn’t very well disclaimed by the cute, clipped idea of NaNo. You can’t write a novel in a month. Some folks can, but most of us need more work than that. You might just draft a novel in a month, but even this, on a first writing endeavor, feels a bit like advising someone that microwaving raw meat will eventually cook it. Sure, you could get there, but it’s a very dry result for something that may require more time and care. It’s not near "finished." 3.“The page count of your book...“ What that means: No double meaning for this one. A personal pet peeve, but based on something I hear folks say around my communities. I know a lot of writers/readers who talk about their book (or ask about books) in terms of final page count. But when writing and especially when publishing (traditional or not), keep track of word count instead. I don’t know my page count and don’t worry about it. Page count is very arbitrary by the time something hits the Kindle or hardback, since books can be printed in any number of sizes and shapes. It’s no more accurate for length than measuring books with your fingers. Publishers, likewise, look for word count, which is something to consider when going traditional. 4.“Avoid prologues.” What that means: “Avoid clunky, backstory-filled openings that serve no purpose.” What it becomes: “Never write prologues. Ever.” I understand where this one comes from, honestly. I’ve read my share of sluggish, boring, and downright bad prologues. They are often the mark of early writing where we are, as Terry Pratchett wisely put it, telling ourselves the story. I say this, but I also know that my current series includes a prologue in every book without too much trouble. What’s the difference then? Prologues, like any part of a book, must say something substantial and interesting. They must have a reason to move the story along. Unfortunately, a slew of badly handled prologues has created this blanket statement that publishers will never take you if you write them, which is only so true. Besides that, if you aren’t publishing traditionally, you have little to fear aside from your audience’s judgement. Prologues are only as good as the story and writer behind them. 5.“Said is dead.” What that means: “Originality in writing is good.” What it becomes: “200 replacement words for this one word!” It does not matter how catchy this is, “said is dead” is dumb advice unless you are trying to turn your writing into a MadLibs game. “Said” is awesome and easy on editing- don’t make yourself work harder there than you need to. This advice is, at best, a bit helpful during the drudge of editing, but this too often gets muddled with advice about first drafts, which is the very last thing you should be worrying about in a first draft. Originality in writing style is a mythology, and striving for this makes your work tougher. This also goes for similar replacement memes for “suddenly”, “looked” or any other overused word: please ignore until later editing. Sometimes “said” and “suddenly” are perfectly fine for a scene, as it turns out. 6.“Write what you know.” What that means: “Use the world around you to create a more realistic setting/characters.” What it becomes: “Write only about what you know.” Perhaps one of the most misunderstood pieces of writing advice I see, if not the most. “Write what you know” seems to come from the most well-meant of ideas, but gets misused and thrown around often enough to create divides in some writing communities (you’ll often see response memes saying “write what you like.”) At its most basic form, “write what you know” makes a lot of sense, as we draw from our surroundings unconsciously when we create. Any seasoned writer who's reread their work knows this (and cringes at that reflection in horror, might I add). However, the ultimate backlash of this clipped phrase is telling young authors that they can only ever write what they know. Their hometowns, their experiences, and even themselves in many cases. The downfall of "write what you know" has been its own overuse, allowing a complex idea to become mangled in favor of catchy phrases. I’m much more inclined to “write what you’re willing to learn”, since writing often involves our personal reflections, but encourages us to dig further and deeper than we are often comfortable doing. We will always write what we know: the challenge is finding the things you don’t know. That is my personal preference though, and hardly gospel. - A year ago, Freshman Me started this blog about writing things. And more recently, I got my article, The Undergrad Novelist: 4 Tips For Writing in College, re-released under Stepping Stones Magazine after being approached by its publisher. I was understandably excited about my first officially published work (!), but came back to the article with new, suddenly somewhat disenchanted eyes. The advice I had given as a Freshman was no longer big news to Sophomore Me. As of this past year, I would say I have learned more about myself and my writing than I did during those two drafts I am now currently editing. Quick summary on that: I am a dual-enrolled college student, honor society member, and a History major as of two years. I am also the mother of two and a half novels in the Faire Curiosities trilogy, which is making its share of waves around the interwebs. I have been writing in college since I started school in 2014, and continuing chronicling these adventures as I get better at this balancing act I have chosen to preform. So, in yearly fashion, I bring you the sister sequel to my popular article, and four more ways to make writing in college a little easier.
This blog piece was actually prompted by one of my writer groups on Facebook (courtesy of the lovely Will Bly), and I am about a month late in its creation. Part of the reason I only started it this weekend is technically due to the slew of tests and projects that I have dealt with up until recently. But the other, more honest reason was that I just had no idea what to talk about. Nothing. I've been writing in some fashion since I was a child, constructing picture books of my imaginary friends and various pets. I bleed ink and devour words... yet I could not, for the life of me, summon a moment of incredible writing advice that I had experienced. That is, until I read Fangirl, and remembered my fan fiction. Short, clean disclaimer: from 2005 to 2009, I was an avid member of FF.net under the pen name of Twila Starla (which I wrote a longer blog piece about some time ago). I wrote Kim Possible and Pirates of The Caribbean fics primarily (plus some Teen Titans, Sky High, and Doctor Who stories that never escaped my hard-drive). I penned several novel-length fics and took home several awards before I officially retired from fandom writing. For those of you keeping track, I was around thirteen at the time, which is an age that no one likes recalling. Being thirteen is like every gawky, awkward, and irrational moment we have in life, rolled into a single year. I was far from the exception, that kind of tweenaged girl who filled her school notebooks and journals with character ideas. Who frequently got bullied for liking comic books and Barbie dolls at the same time. My real life peers were the last people I wanted to share my writing with, which is what made FF.net so appealing. I could share my work behind a mask of Twila Starla, and no one could judge me for worse. A couple of years and stories went by before I started putting down my 'magnum opus', a KP/PoTC crossover that would later earn me several Best Crossover awards from the community. I was genuinely proud of this piece then (still somewhat am, to this day), after all of the time I spent studying my source material and all of the historical research I had infused into the story. It was a glorious time to be writing! And then, I got my first negative review. FF.net is (arguably) known for its softer treatment between writers and reviewers, which leaves a lot of critique lackluster and summed up in “great job. Luv you! Next chapter!!1!~~~”. I can't speak for others, but I had never received a harsh word from my readers in all of my work. Not until one member, called CMY, appeared, chiding the story for being too close to the original material. “Uninteresting and formulaic.” At first, I was annoyed. Really annoyed and disheartened, in typical writer fashion. How dare someone else tell me how to write. How dare you tell me what I want to write. I know what I want to write! I was much calmer when I responded, and thanked him for the advice. Several more reviews from CMY would come through, with varying levels of genuine critique that pulled my whole chapters apart, examining them with more depth and finesse than a first draft usually gets. He eventually abandoned the story though (or maybe I did? It's been so long), on this last note that I never forgot... “Though I noted your skill at detail and description, I didn't feel any anticipation or curiousity as I was going through this... I said it before, and I'll say it again: This is YOUR STORY, Twila. You can modify, upturn or churn the plot of the movie trilogy to suit your story. Remember, the main goal of writing is to simply enjoy it. Make it ridiculous or unpredictable as you want. You're the writer, Twila. It's ENTIRELY up to you.” These words shook me to my core. Reading them even now makes my heart ache a bit. "Your story." Before that review, I had not even considered the world outside of my canonical limitations. I managed someone else's characters and idea with ease- I raked in a lot of readers for it. This statement required me to consider the alternative; a branch out into my own ideas, characters, and story. To build further and farther than most were expected to. I recently finished reading Rainbow Rowell's Fangirl, poetically enough. Without spoiling much of the novel, the main character, Cath, is faced with the same alternative during a creative writing course. She is confronted by her professor over an original piece, and Cath confesses that writing her own worlds and characters is something she feels incapable of. “When I'm writing my own stuff, it's like swimming upstream. Or... falling down a cliff and grabbing at branches, trying to invent the branches as I fall.” This is exactly how it felt to be questioned... And it was absolutely terrifying. Looking back now though, I realize just how much of an impact this reviewer made on my world and what I ended up doing. The switch over to traditional fiction was a painful one, so much so that I dropped writing for four years. Fan fiction was comfortable and safe; creating your own world is like wandering in the dark, disorganized, off-putting, and sometimes very frightening. It takes a great deal of confidence to say “this is my story” and own the idea of doing better. It still takes a great deal of confidence these days, after two books. It's easier though, and gets easier with every new story that's mine. I do wish I could find and thank CMY personally, but the internet is much, much too big and our FF.net accounts have been long abandoned. So, if this ever reaches you, thanks CMY. Thank you for the best writing advice I ever received. You bettered one writer out there. - "This blog post was written as part of a Fantasy Writers and Readers writing prompt. Please contact me for an invite if you are an avid fantasy writer and/or reader and would like to participate in this closed Facebook group." |
About MeCaitlin Jones is an author, film editor, and lover of all things Victorian and fantastic. Please check in for information on her upcoming series. Archives
August 2020
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