Process not Product

process

Process not Product

Process not product was my mantra for a long time. It was my way of reminding myself that the goal of writing is not just a finished product but is mostly about the process of creation.

I find it particularly useful when starting a new project. I’m often so eager to get out of the limbo of endless possibilities that I jump on the first idea that comes up and run with it. Nothing wrong with experimenting with that idea but I need to keep open to the magic of writing. And allow other potentials be entertained and played with.

The mantra is also helpful when my focus is I need to get this done. I want a finished product/story. Feeling this way, I am generally unwilling to consider any path than the one I am fixated on. When a better ending or a more interesting by-way might be just beyond my tunnel vision.

I know that this sounds as if I’m advocating an infinite wandering in the woods, never settling, never deciding. But I’m not. I am urging remaining open to the creative process which lies within all of us.

What process are we talking about?

So, this is going to be hard to describe. But I know I am in the process when I stop trying to force myself down a certain writing path or story; when I let go and sink into that deep place from which all flows. The calm home that may grant entrance to supplicants but not invaders. Patience and waiting and silence. Just letting it happen, just letting it happen as it is going to. I can’t always drop into that place but when I do, I emerge with something silver. Whether fish or chalice, to be determined.

I’m not sure I can do any better than that to describe the mental state but I hope you have a sense of what I’m talking about.

How do I get there?

Another hard bit. I suspect that everyone’s ability to trust the process manifests itself in different ways. The best I can do is recall a time when I felt it to see if it resonates with you.

I was writing a long short story of a chef and kept adding characters and events with no real end point in mind. I was trying to follow what I was feeling and keep at bay the ‘this isn’t working,’ ‘it’s isn’t going anywhere’ stuff. Without any assurance of anything else to replace those thoughts, of course. Just rolling with what came up.

And then, suddenly, all the disparate elements came together.  The chef’s partner becomes the impetus for change; a rival chef shows the way; the downtrodden sous-chef creates the moment when the chef changes. It was unimaginably exciting to feel the pieces, which had previously been floating off on their own, coalesce into a satisfying and seemingly inevitable whole.

Why does it matter?

Remaining open to the magic of the writing process can have wonderful moments such as I just described. But more importantly, it matters because when I am in the process, whatever it is, I know I am writing from my true self. For one brief moment, I am putting into words who I really am. That may come out in how a character reacts or a scene evolves, but whatever it is, it is me.

Does this sound all over the place and even a little woo-woo? I know. That’s the magic of writing.

Better and Better

better

Better and Better

Better and better. In theory, nobody would disagree that we all need to be better writers. But I think this post will be relatively unpopular because the method I propose isn’t what any of us want to hear.

New writers are often tortured by the idea that they need to get their writing into publication immediately. I’ve had people say, ‘What am I going to do with all this stuff?’

On the one hand, I understand this. Writers by and large write in order to be read. If not, then it’s just a time-consuming way of navel gazing. On the other hand, I think it’s the wrong question.

The right question

It reminds me of when I started Tai Chi. 108 moves. I asked the instructor, “How long before I know all the moves?” She smiled, “There’s a saying in tai chi: for each of the 108 moves, there are 108 refinements.”

“Yeah,” I persisted, “But when will I know all 108 at the first level?”

I don’t think I ever got an answer and I do remember being a bit ticked at her. I’m a busy person, after all. I need to know so I can schedule things in.

After a long while, I realized that she hadn’t answered because it was the wrong question. Tai chi is not about mastery in the way that we North Americans understand the word, with its implication of being able to walk away from it once conquered. Tai chi is about the process of doing the moves, about the ability to be in that moment and not, as I was wont to do, cast ahead to other tasks waiting. You’ll get better the more you do it, but it is not about getting to the top of the mountain. Getting better is the goal.

The philosophy of better and better

In writing, I have often urged you to slow down to SHOW your characters in action rather than merely do a trust-me-this-is-true TELL.

I’m asking you to do the same in your writing practice. Slow down. Writing is a life-time habit to develop; one which can bring you fulfillment and joy at any point in your life. Invest the time in getting better and better as a writer. Learn new ways to approach your project. Experiment with different ways in. Writing is not about the end point; it is about the process.

This sits hard with people who think their goal is publication. Would-be writers have told me that they’d embark on the journey if they knew they’d be published in the end. Well, yeah, wouldn’t we all? But the essence of a creative endeavor is that you must have created a tangible product before anyone can interact with it. And creativity flourishes as you continue to improve your ability to say what you intend on the page.

So remember, 108 refinements on 108 techniques.

Because I know that this is a tough area, the next post will be on a related topic: Process Not Product.

Flashback Other Stuff

flashback

Flashback Other Stuff

In the previous post, I discussed the importance of the flashback. Here I will cover some of the more mechanical issues when using this technique.

Flashback order

It’s not a hard and fast rule but sometimes it helps the reader if the flashbacks themselves occur chronologically. That is, if the flashback scenes have a particular sequence, it’s less confusing if they’re presented that way.

As I say, not hard and fast. Sometimes the narrative demands an out-of-order presentation. But if so, cue the reader in some way where they are in the flashback story.

Frequency

As I mentioned in the previous post, flashbacks should not take up the bulk of the story and as Carol Shields points out in Startle and Illuminate, there should be a reason for switching to them.

And while they need to be used frugally, neither can you use just one and then never again. Readers have some unconscious expectations of fiction and this is one of them—flashbacks are used in multiples or not at all.

You don’t need a big flag to signal a memory

Writers sometimes have trouble figuring out how to introduce a flashback. They often use phrases like “she remembered” or “he thought of his childhood.” Not egregious sins but can be a bit clunky.

It’s pretty easy to indicate a flashback. Just use a different tense. If you’re writing in the present, use the past. If the past, the pluperfect (‘had’). Reverse when you want to come out.

If you’re really worried that your reader won’t get it (and this isn’t usual since they are often smarter than us), double space or use a few asterisks to denote the switch.

By the by, you don’t need to use the different tense for the whole flashback scene. This is particularly true of the pluperfect. A lot of “he had had a problem” and “she hadn’t wanted to go,” is cumbersome and somewhat irritating. Use the pluperfect a couple of times at the top of the flashback and then switch back to the past.

At what point can they be used?

The placement of flashbacks, like any other technique which can slow the forward action of the plot (e.g. description), needs to be judicious.

Unless there is some really compelling reason in the plot that the character goes into a flashback at a moment of tension or drama, don’t do it. You dissipate whatever excitement you’re building by subtly pulling the reader out of the continuous dream you’re building for him.

If you need the character to reflect on the plot development or action sequence she has just experienced, by all means do it. But put her in a scene after the action where she can show her feelings or analysis of the situation. Just before falling asleep, riding the bus, waiting for someone or something, etc.

P.S. I can think of one time when flashbacks during the action are appropriate and that’s when the character is experiencing PTSD-like events. But then, these need to be part of the plot.

Anyhow, there you have it—the mechanics of flashback. Now let’s get back to the present.

Flashbacks

flashbacks

Flashbacks

Okay, so maybe your flashbacks don’t go back to pre-history, but they are an important component of any piece, particularly a novel but also memoir or a long short story.

I know you know this, so humor me while I provide an explanation. A flashback is a scene or scenes in a longer fiction piece which take the reader to a point in the narrative which occurred prior to the time in which the tale itself is situated. There are a whole bunch of good reasons to use them.

Flashbacks can be great support for the main plot

Just-in-time for the reader

One of the best reasons is to provide information/background/explanation the reader requires to understand the scene. This avoids the deadly piling on, at the beginning of the story, of all the history and research the reader will need.  You can easily lose people because they don’t yet understand the context in which these details fit. Much better to give them info at the point they need it. Enter the flashback.

An example (italics for main story; flashback in red).

The children were screaming and running around in what seemed a chaotic tag. The adults were in the kitchen—the clink of the glasses rising even above the din. Alice sighed.

It hadn’t always been so. What she remembered most were the silent mornings where you were supposed to be reading your Bible and contemplating your sins. She tried, she really did, but it was hard not to see the toboggan-ready hill of snow just outside her window.

So, if it is important to understand the contrast between Alice’s present reality and her past, best to keep the two together rather than a description at the beginning of the olden days.

Fill out a character

You may want to make the character more vivid or real by providing bits of his personal history to explain his actions in the ‘present’ of the novel.

“Why did you do that?” Veronica yelled.

Jerry turned away and walked out of the room into the sunlight.

It had been snowing that day. Heavy, wet snow. Great for snowballs. A bitch for shoveling. Nevertheless, he was looking forward to the day. Gemma was sure to be at class todayAnd then you go on to explain why Jerry acted so strangely.

Variety

A story that starts at the beginning and goes through in chronological order to the hopefully satisfying end can be perfectly okay. For example, if you are writing an action thriller with a taciturn hero, flashbacks may be out of place.

But for most stories, they mix things up in a pleasurable way for the reader. The bouncing around can provide an enjoyable variety in the form of the story.

Get boring bits out of the way

There are bits of any novel which are a drag both for you to write and for the reader to read but are nevertheless important to the story. You may need to explain the history of a critical object or element. A short flashback at the point the info is needed can sometimes make the conveyance easier to read and sometimes to write.

Use sparingly

While they can provide variety, too many flashbacks can confuse the narrative, sometimes to the point of being unsure what the main story is. A large number also tend to annoy the reader as it begins to feel as if they’re impeding the main action.

So, flashbacks are good but not always flashbacks. There are other more mechanical dos and don’ts that I’ll cover in the next post.

Ridiculously Small Targets

ta

Ridiculously Small Targets

What a year this has been! A pandemic, no less. However you have been affected by it—whether it’s worrying about your safety or mourning the loss of a loved one—no one has escaped unscathed. In particular, I think we are targets for higher level of tension and stress than pre-pandemic. Goes up and down, isn’t always top of mind. But always there.

This continued stress is not conducive to writing and may even make it feel irrelevant. But if you, as I do, enjoy the moments of escape which writing provides, then I would encourage you to take a few moments over the holiday season to give yourself that relief.

However, this is often a busy season and is certainly a weird one this year. Doesn’t feel as if you could take the time.

You can with ridiculously small targets

The lack of time is a constant challenge for writers. And exacerbated over the holidays. What claims our attention may be different this year—staying connected rather than planning huge get togethers—but it is still likely to take time.

So, to keep your escape available, aim for ridiculously small targets. Rather than a lengthy session of concentration to turn out a substantial piece, why not decide on a five or ten word limit a day? An idea, a moment, a feeling, a grasp at your soul for a fleeting moment. Write them down.

This is one time when carrying around a small notebook might work best. You can of course use your phone as the repository if you won’t feel the urge to keep it short to save yourself the nuisance. Because, although you might set your minimum at ten words, the trick is to continue beyond that if the spirit moves. If you feel comfortable on your phone doing that, use it by all means.

Why bother with small—shouldn’t I be going big?

Of course, if you have the time over the break, by all means set the time aside. Even regularly if you can. But holidays often pull you this way and that, so planning for major time which isn’t realistic, will just lead to a sense of failure.

And by the by, if you aim incredibly low and meet your objectives, please congratulate yourself rather than thinking, “Well, it wasn’t much. I should have done more.” The point of aiming low is to create a sense of success. Don’t sabotage yourself by denigrating the goal itself after the fact. Instead, bask.

Using these minor moments

One of two things will happen. Either one of the ten word moments will inspire you to make time to expand on the idea that just hit you or you will end the holidays with a list of interesting notions.

After the holidays, you can use something from the list to kick start a longer writing session. Since writers often have trouble knowing where to begin, this will give you a built-in source that could last you for months.

Either way, you win. A little holiday gift to yourself.