Creating a Writing Process Diary

Last time, I wrote about how you can become more productive through the use of documented processes. Many writers simply follow processes they find in books and courses–and there is nothing wrong with that. A book like Save the Cat has pushed many a writer toward success.

However you may find that you want to have a reference that

• includes your own ideas,
• provides the potential for grabbing and adapting insights from a variety of courses and articles, and
• provides the impetus for regularly improving your craft.

For this, I recommend creating your own reference in the form of a writing process diary.

Many people create such diaries in electronic form. I like to use a blank notebook section off into different stages of writing (pre-work, drafting, rewriting, etc.). I make my entries in pencil and leave extra space so that it is easy to read new steps or to make corrections. I put the processes in the order that I normally use them. And, in each case, I make sure that everything is clear by writing in full sentences and including specific references. In addition, this diary is where I include comments and measurements of success. My specific entries may include:

• The name of the process
• A brief description
• The date it was added
• Its source with a complete reference
• My current assessment of its value
• An estimate of the “cost” to me (which may be in terms of how much time it takes for me to execute this process and how much preparation and energy might be required)
• My level of mastery of the process
• What I call the “fun index”

Once I have these elements documented, I find that I almost always end up breaking up the process into smaller steps. This is one of the biggest values since a major process, like using backward logic, may seem overwhelming. The smaller bits I settle on usually seem doable, even the most challenging days. Besides becoming bite-size, the smaller steps are more easily adapted and tuned for my needs.

Of course, many of the processes I find elsewhere already have step-by-step instructions, which helps me to adopt and adapt the more quickly. But I never see these as complete and final until I have both tried them out on a real manuscript and practiced them to the point where I have a level of comfort and confidence. In fact, my first step toward mastering any process is to put it in my own words. Somehow translating it helps me to integrate new process into my practices.

So there you have it—a process for documenting processes. This may seem fussy and overdone. Certainly, I don't take every process and break it down and documented to the extent defined here. The point is to make things easier and not harder. There is no right way to do this. There just is the way that provides the most benefits for you. So, adopt, or discard as you please.

Rewrite 3 - Structure, Structure, Structure

A hook or a clever phrase can pull a reader into a story, but it is structure that keeps him or her reading.

Many of us learned about structure in school -- topic sentences, inverted pyramids, and the like. Most of these are aimed at clarity more than persuasion or keeping the reader interested (which is why school themes are usually dull and why most people learn to hate writing).

In fact, nonfiction structure, when done well, can go beyond clarity to create interest, action, and enjoyment. For speeches, in particular, the writer may use literary techniques. Nancy Duarte provide a wonderful analysis of speech structure in her TED talk.

I often begin with structure when I write nonfiction. With fiction, however, I tend to be a pantser. I allow myself to meander and explore, and I put off structure until I get to rewriting. I'll provide some insights on the rewriting process in a later blog entry, but here I'll share five ways that I look at my draft to improve its structure:

1. Story logic - My best ally on doing this is screenwriter Jeff Kitchen, who has provided a method of using logic to analyze scenes in terms of cause-and-effect. He works backward from the ending to the beginning. When you do this with your novel, the scenes that are part of the main plot stand out vividly.
2. Stakes - The stakes should rise throughout the piece. Do they? Listing them and ranking them according to jeopardy opportunity can expose structural weaknesses.
3. Story turns - The ends of Acts, the Black Moment, etc. Do they happen at the right times in the story? Are they irreversible? Screenwriter Alexandra Sokoloff provides a series of articles that spell out what is needed.
4. Scene beats - Beats within a scene turn the conversation or action in a new direction. In drama, you look for 3-5 beats in a scene, and that's not a bad rule for novels.
5. White space - Often, just looking at the pages tells me if there is too much narration or too much dialogue crammed into a set of pages. What's "right" varies by story, but it is always worthwhile to make this part of the analysis of story structure.

I go through these in this order. I also do other work that is related to structure (theme and character analysis), but I find these five steps are the most critical. Surprisingly, the payoff for this analysis is emotional more than it is logical.  The right structure has a huge impact on the pacing, which allows engagement to rise without distraction. Get the structure right, and the readers will turn the pages.

The Humble Timer

Tick tick tick tick tick. I love the sound of an old egg timer counting down the minutes. Serving up a satisfying "bing!" at the end. I use a timer about half the time that I write (especially when I feel sluggish and reluctant). There have been times when I have done nothing but stare at a page for the full 15 minutes (or whatever the designated time was). More often, I jump as if a starting gun has been fired, write lousy and great sentences, and then keep writing after the bell rings.

I thought my dedication to the timer was eccentric, but my students claim it is the most useful help for productive writing as all. (Not all students, of course. Writers, if nothing else, are individuals.) Here's what I get:

• A ready tool
• A ritual the reenforces good habits
• A taskmaster that does not accept excuses; the dial marches forward no matter what I say.
• Permission -- to write less that perfect prose and to stop when the timer goes off.

I have used the timer primarily for drafting, but I've found it is also a great help for rewriting (my least favorite activity). For me, there is an extra requirement - I need to decide the day before what I will do specifically during that time period (proofing, removing "junk" words, doing a "backward" analysis. Without a plan other than "rewriting," the timer is not a help. With the plan, I stay on task and get the productivity I'm looking for.

I like real timers, but I use timer apps as well. CNET always has a few timers available for download, including free ones.

I'll end with a question. Why aren't timers used more often? The students who rave about timers and report productivity during classes have generally had success with them in the past. Why do they fail to use them on a regular basis? How can the habit be encouraged?