Learning the right process that will work for two writer's with very different work ethics (me lazy, her disciplined) and writing styles (me scattershot, her disciplined) took a lot of trial and big E error. We finally reconciled it, with a lot of comprimises and it seems to work. Here's something I wrote about learning that structure was not my enemy
DR. STRUCTURE-LOVE
OR
HOW I LEARNED TO STOP DEAD-ENDING AND LOVE THOSE INDEX CARDS
There used to be a banner in my cube at work that read “A Clean Desk is the Sign of a Sick Mind.” If that was true, I was a walking billboard for perfect mental health.
Deep down, I believe chaos is good. I wrote in frenetic bursts, random flurries, fueled by adrenaline, fear, and divine inspiration, unable and unwilling to fit my creativity into structural context, lest I interrupt the stream. There are several million words. I’d snatch some out of the ozone, splatter them against the paper, and sort them out later.
This presented major issues when my wife and I decided to co-author a novel. Carolyn Rose was like my evil writing twin (or I was hers, depending on who you ask), precise, focused, and enamored of using index cards to keep track of characters, scenes, settings and the like. For crying out loud she even created story calendars.
Did I fight it? You bet your (bleep) I did. Then she reminded me of my writing history.
In our Eugene critique groups I was infamous for amazing first chapters—energetic, creative, and sprinkled with unusual twists. But I wrote myself into corners and rarely, if ever, produced a second. Perhaps someday I’ll release a book called Beginnings Without End.
So, in the name of keeping the project moving and not trading my side of the bed for the living room couch, I followed the rules Carolyn established. We talked through the basics and she started churning pages. I added my feedback in the margins and between lines. Occasionally, using the cards and following the calendar, I generated longer sequences and submitted them for integration. Six months up the road we’d found a New York agent for our first book The Hard Karma Shuffle.
I became a convert. I now preach to the congregation. “Can I hear an Amen?”
Organization doesn’t stifle creativity. The stream is not dammed; structure creates a direction for flow. And character development can change that direction.
Wordsplatter is still my modus operandi. I’ll never write as precisely as my mate. But each time I start a project, you’ll hear the crinkle of the wrapper peeling off a fresh set of index cards.
OR
HOW I LEARNED TO STOP DEAD-ENDING AND LOVE THOSE INDEX CARDS
There used to be a banner in my cube at work that read “A Clean Desk is the Sign of a Sick Mind.” If that was true, I was a walking billboard for perfect mental health.
Deep down, I believe chaos is good. I wrote in frenetic bursts, random flurries, fueled by adrenaline, fear, and divine inspiration, unable and unwilling to fit my creativity into structural context, lest I interrupt the stream. There are several million words. I’d snatch some out of the ozone, splatter them against the paper, and sort them out later.
This presented major issues when my wife and I decided to co-author a novel. Carolyn Rose was like my evil writing twin (or I was hers, depending on who you ask), precise, focused, and enamored of using index cards to keep track of characters, scenes, settings and the like. For crying out loud she even created story calendars.
Did I fight it? You bet your (bleep) I did. Then she reminded me of my writing history.
In our Eugene critique groups I was infamous for amazing first chapters—energetic, creative, and sprinkled with unusual twists. But I wrote myself into corners and rarely, if ever, produced a second. Perhaps someday I’ll release a book called Beginnings Without End.
So, in the name of keeping the project moving and not trading my side of the bed for the living room couch, I followed the rules Carolyn established. We talked through the basics and she started churning pages. I added my feedback in the margins and between lines. Occasionally, using the cards and following the calendar, I generated longer sequences and submitted them for integration. Six months up the road we’d found a New York agent for our first book The Hard Karma Shuffle.
I became a convert. I now preach to the congregation. “Can I hear an Amen?”
Organization doesn’t stifle creativity. The stream is not dammed; structure creates a direction for flow. And character development can change that direction.
Wordsplatter is still my modus operandi. I’ll never write as precisely as my mate. But each time I start a project, you’ll hear the crinkle of the wrapper peeling off a fresh set of index cards.
