Thursday, July 31, 2014

Writing Excuses notes, Season 1

As I said in my last post, I didn't take extensive notes. That said again, here are some things I learned from the first season of my Writing Excuses course:

1. When writing, the first priority is clarity.

If your reader doesn't understand, there's no point and it isn't going anywhere. You are essentially wasting your time.

This should seem obvious, but to me, it wasn't. I have a bad habit of hinting at things when I write instead of just saying them. It's excessive showing, when sometimes, telling is necessary. For instance, I once had someone get up and leave in the middle of a conversation, and I didn't tell the reader why. I guessed my audience would know that the character was being rude, but instead, it just left them confused. One reader metaphorically pointed at it and said, "Did you know you have a character leaving in the middle of the conversation?" Why yes, yes I did. But it turns out I should have been more clear. Readers read words, not minds. It's too bad, really.

2. To make a world or character seem more real, explain the heck out of the unimportant details and ignore the most important details.

It turns out that the big things are easily accepted most of the time. In real life, you see a girl in a wheelchair and while you may wonder why she is in the wheelchair, you usually don't ask. Instead, you tell her how you like her shirt and that the band being advertised on it is one of your favorites. To use another example, people seeing Mount Rushmore wouldn't point out that there are faces on the side of a mountain. They would talk about how crowded it was and what the weather was like.

So tell the reader as much as they need to know about the big things, but don't give too many details. Focus on the small details—those are what breed uniqueness and reality.

3. If this story will not be published, is it still worth it to write? If not, don't bother writing it.

If you don't love it, no one else will. Unless, of course, you're Stephen King writing Carrie. In which case, he did write what interested him, he just wanted to give up until his wife told him not to. Then he was a smart husband and listened to what his wife had to say.

There will be times when you hate the story you are writing. That is normal. Only give up if there is never a time when you actually like it. The only manuscript I have ever written that I honestly wanted to burn was one I hated from start to finish. It was never good, even when I fed it good ideas. It was worth it to write, though, because I learned from it. But there is no way it is ever seeing the light of day.

4. Cut out anything that is not necessary to the conflict.

This was said again in a later season, phrased as something like "Don't write a chapter the reader can skip and still be fine." When it comes to poetry, I like the Ezra Pound approach: delete all the fluff, leaving the essence. I can start with a page-long poem and end up with a quarter of a page. What are you really trying to say? Rambling, scenes written for the joy of it without moving the plot forward, and stalling aren't good writing habits. Your reader will get bored and think, "This story is not moving." Because it won't be. Quit being self-indulgent and write a story. A story is based around its conflict, the problem that needs to be solved.

5. In late, out early.

I would be a bad student if this wasn't in here somewhere, because it's mentioned in so many episodes. What it means is that your reader does not want slow starts all the time and they don't want to hang around watching everyone meander off afterward. This applies not only to the whole story, but to each scene.

If you go in late, the reader will be anticipating the excitement. It will be like withholding a favorite food until an appointed time. When they get to the meat of what's happening, you better deliver something good or they will be upset with you. No one likes being told they'll get steak and then find out they are being served a beef patty from the garbage. Use the intro time—the time spent "getting in"—to build up the tension and make your reader excited for what is coming.

Leaving early is like a singer stepping offstage while everyone is still in love with the music. A singer would be out of a job if they just kept milking the moment and their audience got tired of listening. So cut the scene when it feels natural to cut it, but don't go overboard just because you think you're being entertaining. Finish the song, and don't bow on your way out. You want people to finish thinking, "Man, that was good," not, "Man, that was long."

An example for this, then I need to go grocery shopping. In Romeo and Juliet, we start in the midst of the argument between the two families. We also start with Romeo just getting over being in love with someone, which means the drama wheel is already turning and so is the romance wheel. The play finished with Romeo and Juliet dying and then the family making up. That completes the story arc. The "out early" happens because we don't stick around to see how well the families do with being at peace. We don't care, frankly, what Juliet's dad ends up doing with her dowry. Shakespeare might have cared, but nobody else does. So he cut the action immediately after the resolution, and the audience leaves satisfied.

Now to buy some bread. I need something to have a sandwich with.

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