Bite-Sized To-Dos for Writers

I'm obsessive about not wasting time. Whether on hold, in line or waiting for a bus, I always have something productive at hand to do. Before I became a writer, I was already creating two-column to-do lists. One column would have the traditional tasks and appointments of the day. The other would list what I call "interstitial" work -- things that can be done, or at least reach a stopping point, in 15 minutes or less.

Some people automatically fill those slivers of time with worthwhile activities. They sing or daydream or say a prayer or make observations or read a few pages of a book. I seem to need a longer list with activities that add up to help achieve my larger goals. Not surprisingly, most of what's on my list now is aimed at writing, and using such a list is one of the primary ways I boost my productivity. What's on my list?

• Small business tasks - I can complete a simple invoice for freelance writing in less than 15 minutes, using older invoices as templates. I can research a new market or answer a client's question. (I keep questions that take a little thought in a queue rather than refer to email. For me, email and social media can be a time suck, and I prefer to schedule my interactions with them.)
• Brainstorming - I like generating lists of ten (or twenty). Ten blog ideas. Ten ways my character can escape a prison cell. Ten things I love about my novel. Most of what's on such lists is useless, but pushing for more leads to pleasant surprises.
• Outlining - For smaller work, like writing this blog, all I need is a blank index card. For building on the outline of a novel, I usually need to be carrying a card that lists the pivotal scenes so I can fill in ideas that fit in between.
• Sorting - When ideas tumble out, they often are not it the most effective order. It only takes a few minutes to take a list of obstacles a character faces and organize them according to what is at risk. (This helps me ensure I am constantly raising the stakes so readers get hooked.) With essays, I organize the arguments so the second most compelling notion comes first and the most compelling concludes the piece.
• Character interviews - The best way for me to get to know a character is to have a conversation. I carry lists of characters and questions with me to the garage or doctor's office and take advantage of those times to interrogate them.
• Mechanical rewriting - This is the less creative work, such as getting rid of junk words and ferreting out all the spelling mistakes and grammatical errors. Re-conceiving scenes or polishing prose is likely to need more dedicated time.

Most of these activities are self-limiting and can be broken off without much damage. When I have something critical coming up -- a call with a client at an agreed to time -- I set a timer so I don't get lost in the activity. Also, I take care to file interstitial work properly. There is nothing worse than believing you have solved a plot problem and not being able to track down the slip of paper holds all the answers.

Note that these tasks are "writerly" activities. They don't contribute directly to adding pages to your manuscript. I never count these activities toward my daily writing goals, even though I am aware that they make an impact.

Do you have small tasks you get done during fragments of time? What would you put on your own "interstitial" list?

Picking up the Thread - Reentering the Interrupted Story

When you are in the middle of writing a story, working at full speed with the next scene in plain sight, coming up the with the next words is (usually) easy. When you have been away from a story, you're apt to be lost, disoriented, and stalled.

You can end up in this situation if your commitment fails, you are working from a collection of notes that came together while you were dedicated to another work, or life gets in the way. For me, it usually happens when I am forced to redirect because of a deadline on another work. But whatever has taken you away from a work in progress and allowed it to grow cold, there are things you can do.

• Read it aloud to get the sound of the story in your head again. (It is best to do this the day before.)
• Write a list of ten things you love about your story. These can be about any element that appeals to you, but the ones that get your pulse going (twist endings, witty characters, heartbreaks) are more likely to help you reenter the story world than the practical ones (high concepts, saleability, editorial interest).
• Interview your villain. (You can interview your protagonist, too, but the villain is more likely to be chatty and engaging at the draft stage.) Be sure to ask rude questions.
• Write a pastiche of a scene in your story. It can be one that is already written. I once did this for a story of mine, recreating a favorite scene in the styles of Stephen King, Harlan Ellison, Robert Louis Stevenson, and Mark Twain. It got my engines going again, and it started a flood of ideas for new scenes.

Please note that all of these are "writerly activity." It's not a good idea to count such work against your day's goals. Nonetheless, you may find these exercises valuable as you work to pick up the thread of your story and get back to the fast draft.

What do you do to get back into a story that has gone cold?

Draft 6 - Swept Away

Words come. Rushing. Tumbling. In a torrent that seems to have no end. Two odd pieces fit together for something new, or a character begins to chatter, or a vivid dream sweeps you out of this world and into a land of wonder.

Congratulations. This is a good thing, and it can become the basis for a work you and your readers will cherish. You may capture all there is in detailed notes or you may end up writing complete scenes. Either is fine.

But you are cheating on your work in progress. Assuming you have prepared for the day’s writing with details on what you intend to write, do you still have the commitment? Will you honor the promise you made to yourself the day before? Will you have anything left to offer?

Professional writers complete their work. They meet their deadlines. And even after a luscious detour with a strange and wonderful new story, they go back to the familiar work they have invested in and do the job. They may stray, but they come back.

They are well aware of the professional risks story promiscuity represents. Most pros chased infatuation after infatuation when they were beginners. And, if they were writing articles and short stories, they could get away with it. But, being drawn away from a book-length work is serious. This is especially true when you are writing the middle when the prose it ugly, the story arc is showing cracks, and the manuscript seems like a mistake. Tempting new stories seek out authors during those desperate times and lure them in.

There is nothing fundamentally wrong with being swept away and dallying with the new story for a while, but promiscuous habits can lead to a series of uncompleted works and unfulfilled promises. Infatuations burn out, and people who do not take a professional approach end up with piles of unfinished manuscripts.

Go ahead. Indulge yourself. But keep you promises. Finish your book.

Tools for Writing 1 - The Joy of Dictation

I use Dragon Dictate for about half of my drafting. By switching back and forth from typing to dictating, I have cut my chances of repetitive stress injuries in half, but there are other benefits:

• Now that the program allows for a more natural flow of words (vs. one word at a time), I get to hear the prose, especially the dialogue, from the time of its creation.
• I write about 20% faster with dictation.
• I am discouraged from rewriting as I write, which keeps me in a creative mind and avoids interference from the editor in my head.

For me, adjusting to dictation was as difficult as my transition from writing by hand to using a typewriter and from using a typewriter to using a computer (about a month of upset in each case). But I will admit that I have advantages in being a bit of a techie and in having early experience (as part of IBM Research) with dictation. This is not to say that the experience is painless or perfect, even today.

• Dictation seems to work better with nonfiction than fiction. The names and cadences of dialogue seem to throw the program at times.
• Sometimes the emotion is muted because fully acting things out makes for strange errors. Also, I am tethered by my headset.
• When I see an input error, it distracts me from the drafting. This usually is only a slight bump in the flow. However, I have been known to get frustrated and fight with the system (and angry voices do not transcribe well.)

Nevertheless, I would hate to go back to just typing. For one thing, I like the "feel" of dictating. Just as some writers edit better from printed copy and some brainstorming works better with a pencil and piece of paper (in my case, a poster-size page), dictating provides an option for capturing mood, emotion, and flow that other approaches do not. When I begin a writing journey, it's as if I have a fleet of cars rather than one vehicle for commuting. That gives me one more edge as I explore the limits of productivity.

 

Writing Buddies

Most people write more if they are held accountable.  The simplest approach to this is to get someone to regularly ask, "How many words have you written [today, this week, this month]?" This resembles the Weight Watchers weigh in, providing a public declaration that others can respond to (it is hoped, with encouragement). There are online versions of this, most notably through the NaNoWriMo community.

Checking in regularly with a writing parole officer is just what some people need, but some may need to reach higher. For one thing, by just providing a number, it is too easy to cheat. It is too tempting to include what Kristan Higgins calls "writerly things" (think blog entries or notes to editors – instead of things that are words bringing the story forward) in the word count. The words could be on a side project instead of the main work. Or the words could be notes on the story, character sketches or even an estimate of what the writer wrote in his/her head and just needs to get onto paper.

Having a writing buddy makes this sort of cheating less likely because the words themselves need to be turned in. This helps with productivity both because the work is hard to dodge and because quality becomes a factor.

There are other payoffs as well. Encouragement comes at a higher level because the work can now be referred to directly (wonderful description, clever use of metaphor). It also becomes possible to have discussions that include advice, explorations of material, answers to questions and specific feedback.

Just having someone else reading the work – which is driven in part by the need to communicate – has a salutary effect. Along the way, there is real companionship from someone who understands. Writing can be a lonely business, so such a relationship can be invaluable. Besides, you know that when you finish, someone with real investment in the material will be there to say congratulations.

All this, of course, depends on having the right writing buddy. Having someone who is unreliable, working on a different level, negative or doesn't "get" what you write can be actively harmful. With that in mind, here are some criteria for a writing buddy:

• Find someone who is about at the same level. Since you are reading and providing feedback for them, a person who is working at a lower level is likely to be frustrating and less helpful.  Mentee/mentor relationships have their own charm and value, but they are not the same as the writing buddy relationship.
• Their output should be similar and they should be reliable. A big asymmetry in workload can feel unfair. Delays in reading and feedback can become an excuse for writing less.
• Having similar goals may also be important. For instance, a person determined to self-publish might be annoyed by a commercially focused buddy who fulfils genre requirements when they "should" just tell their story. In the other direction, a commercial writer might be insulted when suggestions to add a few elements or cut a scene to fit a market are ignored by someone committed to self-publishing.
• Mutual respect and trust are essential. This may develop over time, but both buddies need to avoid any violations. A typical problem is a caustic comment. When this is direct, it's bad enough. When it is made to a third party, it's disastrous. When it is made to a third party and the manuscript is shared with that person, the writing relationship (if not the friendship) is probably dead.
• While there is a need for candor, writing buddies need to keep their criticism positive, generous and supportive. At least in early critiques, it is wise not to point out more than three concerns. The good work needs to be explicitly noted and praised. And overall, any critique must come across as helpful and encouraging.
• A writing buddy should be a natural audience for your work. They need to enjoy and respect your genre and your style. If they don't "get it" the criticism becomes mechanical at best, scathing at worst. This problem should be evident early in the relationship, but it can even happen with a good writing buddy when a new work takes a different direction. In those circumstances, the writing buddy needs to explain the concern early on (and this honesty needs to be appreciated without argument).
• There should be good "chemistry" between the buddies. I don't know how to explain this, but, when you are in the situation, you'll know if it's there or not.
• Ultimately, critiques need to be expressed in ways that are helpful. This does not mean that a buddy's prescriptions need to be complete, clear and actionable. Most suggestions on how to fix writing aren't quite right. But the concerns need to be expressed, in most cases, well enough so a second look is productive.

Having the right writing buddy can become a springboard for more productive writing – both for you and for your buddy. This can be a great benefit in achieving your goals. It also can provide a reward in the enormous pride you'll feel when your buddy succeeds, too. Maybe you'll even get a thank you in the book.

Copyright © 2012 Peter Andrews

Writing Is Juggling

If you've ever tried to juggle, dance, or learn the steps to an advanced martial arts kata, you'll know what I'm talking about here. You are performing at a high level, you add something to it, and disaster strikes. Within a few tries, you can't even do what used to come naturally.

Writers love courses and book that provide tips and advice. The more, the better.  I teach, so I am the last person to discourage this perspective. But trying to integrate several significant new approaches into your writing all at once can be a recipe for disaster.

And those problems are normal. I first learned of the phenomenon I call "dropping the juggling balls" (or dropping the chainsaws when I am looking for danger) when I studied Piaget. It is related to the way we learn and organize new information. When we are little, we go through these fumbles so often, we barely notice them. We just keep on keeping on. But they happen less often for most of us when we are older.

As a result, writers who are diligent about working on their craft can end up discouraged and depressed. I thought I had talent...  I thought I had figured this out... I thought I'd never make this mistake again...

No, you are not becoming a talentless, inarticulate hack. You are growing in your craft, and these are the accompanying pains. So cheer up. Something good is about to happen.

Once you adjust your attitude, don't give up learning new skills. But consider resolving to master only one challenge at a time. Focus enables learning.

Writing requires high-level juggling -- character, plot, style, grammar, tone, theme, setting and more. Sometimes they come out the way you want them to all at once, but that is rare. Becoming a master writer is a livelong exercise, so expect to drop a few balls along the way.

Draft 5 - Writing in the Fourth Person

I audited a writing course with John Casey, and he mentioned once how people seemed to be speaking more and more in the fourth person.

Fourth person?

Some conversations seem to consist almost entirely of quotes from movies, tv, and other media - the fourth person. John didn't make any disparaging remarks about this practice (he was talking to college students after all), but I have often recalled it when I've been trapped in a conversation that is almost devoid of wit and originality. Other people seem to be totally engaged as all the pop culture buttons are pushed - but why?

I am an advocate of getting words on paper quickly, of not worrying about getting every fact right, about filling out all the descriptions, or about writing scenes destined to be cut. Creator first, editor second. But with this license comes responsibility. When you get words flowing, it is easy to begin spouting shopworn, secondhand material. A little of this isn't fatal. Too much is, at best, a waste of time. At worst, it can feel close enough to right to lead to self delusion.

I have written whole chapters and complete short stories in the fourth person. Luckily, I was called on it, and I had the sense to admit my mistakes. I have a sixth sense for the "this is really easy" feeling now.  So good friends can help you.  (Note, the kind of plot borrowing that writers do all the time is not the issue here.)

How do you avoid this?

• Prepare properly by reaching for emotions before you begin to write. Acting techniques help.
• Make it a habit to take risks with your writing.
• Journal your own experiences and do primary research, so you have authentic material to draw from.
• After you finish an especially easy and painless session, make a note. Then look the next day to see if the work is shallow and lacks honesty.
• Imagine reading the writing ten years into the future, and see if anything is too much of the current era.

Writing in the fourth person can sneak up on you, but it is unlikely to be a persistent problem. Just being aware of the danger is usually enough to keep it at bay. In my experience, more people are held back by the fear of sloppy and lazy writing than by actually committing the fourth person to paper. With a few precautions, you can write fast without falling into this trap.

Collaboration Dos and Don'ts part 2

Last time, I covered some of the advantages of collaborating, along with a few guidelines for success. But as I indicated, things can go terribly wrong. The work can slow precipitously, turn in the wrong direction, or even stop.

Many of the problems that crop up are exactly those that writers working alone face.

• Insufficient research
• Scenes or stories that require a higher level of craft
• Starting in the wrong place
• Working from the wrong point of view
• Having a secondary character take over
• Unnecessary detours
• Life gets in the way
• A loss of enthusiasm (which seems to strike almost all writers halfway through the book)
• Indecisiveness
• And more.

 Some people argue that writer's block is a fiction, but writer's crawl is endemic. Unfortunately, any of these normal, expected problems look different when you are inside a writing partnership. Disagreement on the cause of a problem is likely. Blame (of yourself or your partner) is a mortal danger. If you want to collaborate, first look at yourself and be honest with your answers to these questions:

• Do I think a criticism of my writing is a criticism of me?
• Am I good at diagnosing story problems?
• Do I have good interpersonal communications skills?
• Do I avoid conflict until it becomes nuclear?
• Do I always have to be "right"?
• Do I blame others when things go wrong?
• Do I have an ego the size of Mall of America?
• Am I closed to compromise?
• Do I consider challenges to my "vision" to be deranged?

If the answers to any of these are yes, you should consider not collaborating. If your prospective writing partner would answer yes to any of these, buckle up. You're in for a bumpy ride.

But beyond personalities, there are some projects that are not good candidates for collaboration. I would never collaborate on a personal project that involved exploring sensitive, questionable, or private aspects of myself. No partners need apply for work on a project designed to be the keystone of my career. If I am taking huge risks, I'd rather take them alone. And if the project looks like a blockbuster in the making, I'll get the novel done and put off collaborating until I get a call from Spielberg to work on the movie.

Collaboration can be a joyful and productive experience. But it can also be an ordeal and a time suck. So think hard about yourself, your partner, and your project before you jump in.

Have you had a dream collaboration? Or a nightmare partnership? What did you learn?

Collaboration Dos and Don'ts part 1

When my wife and I decided to write a novel together, we jumped right in and cruised all the way to "The End." (The only rough point was the dreaded "version control" episode.) This is the sort of collaboration fantasy that many writers dream about, but rarely achieve. Like overnight successes, there is more than meets the eye.

• Both of us came to work together with mutual respect.
• We had knowledge of each others work as professional writers.
• We had a common concept for the book.

And we had a clear understanding before we began of who the final decision maker was (my wife).

After lots of discussions, we fell into the pattern of my writing the first draft (the bones) and my wife writing the next draft (the flesh). Rewrites were less directed (hence the need for strict version control). Overall, it was a fabulous experience, and I am still proud of the story we created together.

By the time we chose to coauthor a novel, I had made a career of collaborating: Speechwriting (with the principal). Writing for radio and theater (working with announcers and actors). Coauthoring a book, developing IBM reports with teams, and editing. Those experiences helped me to know that our working together made sense, and they alerted me to potential problems.

I gained some of my knowledge the hard way. My first efforts at collaborating were disasters. I got lost on several round robin attempts. I provided a detailed critique of the first few pages from a fellow Clarion student (and never heard from him again). I exposed an early draft of a short story to a writers' group that savaged it (and my coauthor never really recovered). So:

• Don't begin until you have a common goal and both of you are committed to achieving it.
• Don't overwhelm your writing partner with feedback, especially in the drafting stage.
• Never expose your collaborator to public humiliation, and be aware that the public face of your work belongs to both of you.

Collaboration can speed up your writing. It provides a sounding board for ideas, accountability for writing every day, and a division of labor that may make up for your weaknesses. Under ideal circumstances, it seems as if elves are doing all the work as you sleep. But creating ideal circumstances? That's a big job. For some people it is harder than working alone. More on that tomorrow.

Writing Prep 6 - Decluttering Your Brain

Putting yourself in front of the keyboard doesn't automatically put your brain into your writing space. Good (and bad) conversations may still be running through your head. There may be the lure of a donut or the worry of a bill. You may have aches and pains of the body or the heart.

Distractions that are in you mind may be the hardest to counteract. One reason why I like to write first thing in the day, to begin by completing yesterday's sentences, to cue myself by setting a timer, and to put on (wordless) music is that these provide rites of passage from the mundane world to the world of my imagination.

But it doesn't always work. Reality can be pretty intrusive. This is why I have brain decluttering exercises in reserve. If you have the same problem, you might want to give them a try:

• Make faces at yourself. No. I'm serious. Go to the mirror and change your expression to one that is intense. I understand that smiling actually releases chemicals that make you happy. Frowning, scowling, sneering, or looking wide-eyed in amazement seem to have similar effects. Make a face, and you will feel something different. This pulls you away from the distraction in your brain. For extra credit, put the look on your face that you imagine your protagonist has.
• Take a deep breath and clear your mind. This is classic, and it becomes easier with practice. Meditation lowers your blood pressure, too, so you get a bonus.
• Get it all on paper. Force yourself to write out everything that is whizzing around in your mind. I call this the chocolate sundae solution because a friend of mine used a similar technique when she was dieting. If she felt an overwhelming urge to eat a chocolate sundae, she would eat sundaes until she had an aversion to them. This is a twist on Oscar Wilde's quote, "The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself."

I will point out that I don't count ANY of this as my writing time. Do that, and you face the risk of decluttering until the timer goes off. You don't want to lose a day of writing this way.

How to you declutter your brain?

Bigger 3 - Take Me to Monte Carlo

Is your setting big enough for your story? Middle-earth or Manhattan, you need to give the same consideration to where your character fights his battles or duels over cocktails as you do to their dreams and desires. If you don’t, you risk two things:

First, the story might suffer. This is obvious for survival stories, where nature is the antagonist. But it is also true for To Kill a Mockingbird, where both the heat and the social constraints press the characters to reinterpret their values. Too often, writers take setting off the table, and they lose the potential for conflict. West Side Story would not have been as effective in the suburbs.

Second, the story is less attractive. The people who make James Bond and Mission Impossible films know this. Most of the locales for their stories are places where people visit in droves. In fact, those movies take advantage of millions of dollars invested in promotion and in giving visitors wonderful experiences once they get there. Why shouldn’t your story take the same approach? Why go to Des Moines (actually, a lovely city in Iowa, but not a vacation destination) when you can go to Dubai?  

Of course, a story can take place in horrible places. I do not want a holiday in Shawshank Prison or the Alien-infested Nostromo. But I don’t mind watching characters in these extreme environments. Those settings will repel as many people as they attract, but they will attract enough to make me happy.

Bigger does not need to be outrageous. Even modest locations, like those in Jane Austen, can make a story bigger if they are keenly observed and play an important role in the story. Her civilized locales in England may not have high concept going for it, but there is enough detail so readers feel immersed in the reading experience.

Here are some questions to ask yourself to create a bigger locale:

• If I wrote a travel brochure for this place, would it attract any visitors?
• Can I change the location to one that will make people curious about my story?
• Can I imagine a setting that will put more pressure on my characters, forcing them to make difficult and irreversible decisions?
• Have I imagined my story’s location so deeply that I can describe it completely enough to immerse my reader?

Of course, conflict and emotion are what a story is about, so the setting (usually) should not overwhelm these. But attention to setting and deliberately making it bigger can become a vital part of enticing and holding a reader to enter into the world of your story.

Do You Listen to Music When You Write?

Music can help the words flow or it can get in the way. For me, music serves several purposes that make my writing sessions more productive.

• I use music to cover auditory distractions.
• Music inspires me, creating mood and emotions.
• Music sets rhythms in my head.
• Since rewriting (especially ferreting out junk words and typos) is my least favorite part of writing, I use music to make the experience more pleasant.
• A forty or fifty minute piece makes a great timer, setting the boundaries of my work period.

I can write without music. (If fact, the only sound I have as I write this blog is the perking of the coffee maker.) But music contributes to my productivity, as long as it does not have words. I cannot ignore lyrics. I sing along in my head. (This may be a leftover from my memorizing every jingle and TV theme song I heard when I was a kid.) The only music with words I can listen to is music in a language I don't know. Opera works great because it is full of emotion.

My wife seems to be able to listen to anything, even have the TV going when she writes. I know writers who need silence during drafting and need music during rewrites. Some people need silence all the way through.

If music is part of your writing practice, specific tunes and the style of music may make a difference. Film scores, classical music, heavy metal, jazz -- they may not be equally valuable (or horrifying) at different stages of writing. But, if you understand how music impacts your productivity, it can become an ally.

Try different styles at different stages, and track your experiences. The number of words written is only one factor. Make notes about how you felt as you wrote, how the music impacted the rhythm and emotion of your work, how it inspired you, and the quality, too.

If you understand how music and silence make a difference for you, you'll have a way to write more and have more fun writing.

Guest Post - Write Faster with Scrivener

It's my delight to welcome Gwen Hernandez as the first HTWF Guest Blogger. Gwen is the author of Scrivener For Dummies (Aug 2012, John Wiley & Sons, Ltd.), and the teacher of popular online Scrivener classes for Mac and Windows. Before she started using Scrivener to tap her right brain for tales of romance and suspense, she worked as a computer programmer, business school instructor, and manufacturing engineer. Learn more about her book or classes, and get free Scrivener tips, at www.gwenhernandez.com.


Looking for ways to be a more productive writer? Consider Scrivener. This writing software—available for both Mac and PC—not only lets you write the way that works best for you, it also provides some handy features for motoring through your manuscript at top speed.
What do you do when you’re in the writing flow and you suddenly realize you need to change something two chapters back, or you have a great new idea for the ending twist? Don’t stop your momentum by going off to work on those other sections.

I create a file within my project that I call Change Log. When inspiration strikes, I jot a few notes in the Change Log and then get back to what I was working on. Not only does this keep me moving forward, but I find that many times I end up changing my mind about the “great idea” later, so waiting to make the change saves me even more time since I don’t have to undo it if a better idea comes along.

If you come to a section of your story and realize you don’t have the information you need, or you just can’t seem to get the words right, don’t stare at it for three hours. Add an annotation—a colored bubble of text that stores notes and reminders right within the text—and move on. Alternatively, you can add a comment, which creates a colored link to a word or phrase, and shows up in the Inspector instead of embedded in the text. You can use the Formatting Finder to easily search for annotations later.

Are you trying to meet a specific word count goal for your manuscript? Do you need daily goals to keep you on track? Scrivener has you covered with project and session targets. Just enter your manuscript goal and your daily goal. Scrivener tracks your progress and provides a colored bar to show you how you’re doing.

To track your progress within a single document, use a document target. This is handy if you have a minimum scene length, or are working on an article or story with a specified word count requirement.
Do you find the main Scrivener interface distracting? Try working in Composition mode (called Full Screen in the Windows version). Not only does this calming view block out the busy-ness, you can choose your favorite background color, and (currently on Mac only) even add a background image.

Scrivener can also help you keep your research at your fingertips. No more searching through stacks of printouts or trying to find the right Internet bookmark. Simply import documents you refer to regularly into the Research folder in your project. For websites that you frequent while writing, you can add a Reference so you can quickly open the site when you need it.

Those are just a few of the many ways Scrivener can increase your writing productivity. Got questions? Ask away. I’ll check in throughout the day to answer them. Thanks to Peter for having me today!

Draft 4 - Style and the Fast Writer

An Officer and a Gentleman includes scenes where the character struggle through an obstacle course. No one runs the course with any style or grace the first time through. Elegance comes with practice and repetition.

Drafting your story is like running that course the first time, lots of stumbles, falls, and backtracking. With rewriting -- and attention to all those things from mechanical problems to what it sounds like when you read your prose aloud -- your style emerges in its full strength. Renee Miller has written an excellent blog entry on rewriting for style. As Damon Knight put it, "style is the music that comes out when you turn the crank." He counseled against worrying about style directly.

And yet, I find that there are decisions I make at the drafting stage that have a huge impact on style. The first is choosing the audience. This immediately constrains my word choice, the rhythms and the pacing. Think of it as dressing appropriately for a party or a conference.

I also do over half my drafting using dictation (Dragon Dictate). It helps me get a lot of words on paper and discourages any temptation for looping. But it also gets me hearing the sound of the words from the very beginning. That sound is a bit artificial to accommodate the program, but I've gotten used to that over time, and saying the words out loud with constraints is still preferable to hearing them in my head.

In particular, it helps me to get a sense of the characters. In good times, they do a lot of talking to me, and voicing their dialogue encourages them to keep the conversation going. Since dialogue is about a third of the final text, really hearing those sentences come out jumpstarts my feeling for the style of the work as a whole. I often will do an entire writing session with nothing but my characters talking to each other.

Finally, the style gets a boost in the draft stage just because this is a time when the passion goes from spark to forest fire. Choices that engage me lead to ideas and images that ultimately turn this story into a good friend. Any story I've completed evokes a distinct feeling in me - the same sort of beyond the description, body/mind feeling I get when someone names a person I know well or a city where I've spent time walking the streets. This feeling is directly connected to style for me. At the beginning, it may not flow. By the end, I hear unique music that comes out when I turn the crank.

How to Stop Dithering

Dithering - I have a positive talent for it that only became obvious when I started writing seriously. In school, I plunged into homework assignments without hesitation. On the job, I worked my way through the day's to-do list without hesitation. With my writing?

• I had a great dream. Maybe I should get that on paper.
• Should I go back to that suspense story? Maybe I've let that character problem sit long enough.
• Ooh! That reminds me. I've got notes for a great new SF premise.
• etc.

It's great to have a lot of ideas and to be eager to get to work on something. But no one I know has mastered typing on more story at once (though there is an apocryphal story of Napoleon writing a letter with each hand while engaging in a conversation). A writing career caught between two or more projects will starve.

Making a decision is the answer. My practice is to decide the day before, and I usually like to do this at the end of the day, when my body is reminding me of how much work writing is. I am much too ambitious in the morning. If I can't decide, I go to my criteria - due dates, my passion for a project, how clear the job is, whether I have a breakthrough idea, and so on. I have even been known to score out or force rank the next day's work. I'll do anything to get a specific writing task at the top of the next day's to-do list. Because otherwise I know that I am at risk of dithering.

And, if I had any doubts about my talent for dithering, they were resolved a few years ago when I discovered the phenomenon of micro-dithering. Here's what happened:

I was well into writing a novel, so there was no question of which novel I'd work on. I had a big scene coming up, so I dutifully wrote down my task, finishing that scene, for the next day. I even knew how the scene was supposed to end. But the next day when I sat down to write, my brain started generating questions. About the character, about the setting, and about what I'd already written three chapters before. Notes were made. Web searches were done. Minutes ticked by. The day was -- unproductive.

This happened several times before I realized what was going on. The cure for me was to schedule the next day even more tightly and to turn off the wi-fi before I even started my writing. On reflection, the reason I fell into micro-dithering that first time was because of fear. I was drafting a scene that was painful and emotional for my character -- and for me. Inside, I knew that the experience would be unpleasant and the execution would be difficult and liable to fail. No wonder I couldn't commit. Dithering can be a "kid in a candy store"phenomenon, where it is difficult to choose between attractive alternatives, but it is more likely to happen because you don't want to put your hand on a hot stove.

How do you stop dithering (and micro-dithering)? I commit to the task, specifically, the day before. I don't want my brain to have any wiggle room. Another good practice is to enable yourself by anticipating what you will need the next day -- in terms of research, review of a previously written chapter, character descriptions, etc. -- and have it all prepared and at hand. But the most important way to avoid dithering may be understanding its root cause for you and countering that cause. You may need to write down what you fear and put it into perspective. You may need to talk yourself into torturing a character you love. You may need to gird your loins for a battle with your personal demons. 

“Whatever you do, or dream you can, begin it. Boldness has genius and power and magic in it.”
-  Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

Does your work suffer because of dithering? How do you fight back?

Bigger 2 - Put Everything at Risk

Damon Knight once looked me in the eye and said, "I enjoyed reading your story, but... "

But? What could be wrong with my story?

"But no one is going to care much about a guy who will lose his job if he fails. Raise the stakes."

Okay. Right. Put the Universe in jeopardy or something. But what? I lost interest in the story before I found the answer.

One way to make a story bigger -- and make it more likely that your hours of effort will reach your audience -- is the raise the stakes. But how?

Here are some suggestions:

• Find out why it matters so much to your character. In the nonfiction book I'm writing now, the heroine, America's first female botanist, studied hard, defied society by turning down a suitor, slipped into a forest filled with hostile Native Americans, and incurred her father's wrath by outdoing him. For what? To study plants? I think she did it to save her sanity. 
• Make it a decision. My character was pushed into botany, but she chose to become one of the best, and she sacrificed to make it happen.
• Make it irreversible. Making it impossible for a character to step back from a decision and return to life as it was. Once my character turned down her suitor, she shackled herself to her father's goals. She would succeed in becoming a scientist, or she would spend the rest of her life in charge of cheese production.
• Imagine the worst. If my character fails, she loses her job.  Hmm.  But she really loses the chance to explore, to be the first to discover new species, to have rich conversations with  people like Benjamin Franklin, to act with a level of autonomy, and to keep a brilliant and agile mind occupied in a world of routine.
• Imagine the best. Full success would mean becoming famous. A trailblazer who showed women were as capable as men. Having new species named in her honor. Possibly even traveling to Europe and being feted by the great scientists there.
• Play another card. Why is "Luke, I am your father," one of the most memorable lines in film? Because from then on, Luke knew he would achieve his goal only if he was willing to sacrifice his father.
• Make it a good card. Luke also had an amazing, new possibility open up before him when Darth Vader told him the secret of his paternity. He could forget his hopeless quest with the rebel alliance, and be more powerful than he had imagined.
• Oh, and make the revelation painful. Darth's little secret made the beloved Obi-Wan Kenobi a liar. Ouch.

Since my story, Ingenious Daughter, is nonfiction, I can't give it a Star Wars moment. I can only look for them in the past. But fiction that aspires to be bigger needs to look for these moments and test the limits.

Every Other Friday - Kristan Higgins interview

Today, How to Write Fast begins a series of interviews with productive writers – and we are starting with a bang:

Kristan Higgins is a New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author and two-time winner of the Romance Writers of America RITA Award. Her books have been praised for their "genius level EQ, whippet-fast, funny dialogue and sweet plots with a deliciously tart edge" (USA TODAY). She lives in Connecticut with her heroic firefighter husband and two extremely advanced children, one shy little mutt and an occasionally affectionate cat.

Tell me about SOMEBODY TO LOVE. 

SOMEBODY TO LOVE is my ninth romance and tells the riches-to-rags story of Parker Welles, a single mom, as well as a children’s author with a hefty trust fund. When her father loses all her money in an insider-trading deal, Parker has the summer to flip the one asset she has left: a decrepit house in the coast of Maine. Coming to help her is the last person she wants around—her father’s attorney, James Cahill. But her back’s against the wall, and she can’t turn away his help, so there they are, stuck in a 900-square-foot house, her son off with his father for three weeks… I defy them not to hook up.

What drove you to write SOMEBODY TO LOVE? 

I’d been thinking about Parker for a while; she first shows up as the best friend in THE NEXT BEST THING, in which she gives sage advice and seems quite content as a singleton. I wondered what she’d be like if I took away that trust fund and mansion, as well as her book series, with which she has a love/hate relationship.

What were your biggest obstacles? 

Blending the casts from the two previous books was a challenge, as well as making sure that a new reader wouldn’t feel left out if she hadn’t read those two previous books. The other obstacle was staying true to the things I’d set up in the previous book; I had this great idea for Parker’s relationship with the father of her son; then I reread THE NEXT BEST THING and thought, “Nope. Can’t do it. It’s just not true.”

What are your productivity tips? 

Turn off your wifi. We teach ourselves to have ADD with wifi, I think. I also keep a weekly page goal and almost never miss it. Daily can be tough; if you commit to 15 pages a day but then have a sick child or need to get other things done, it’s easy to feel discouraged. Weekly allows me to have a life outside of writing while still keeping my eye on the prize, as it were.

Writing Prep 4 - Ten reasons to love your story

Are you ready to fall in love with your project? To go beyond infatuation? Love is really the strongest lever you can have to get it finished with all of its grand potential, and I have a suggestion. Force yourself to write a list of reasons why this is the project for you. Why you are driven to get this story, article or argument down on paper. Write ten (or more) reasons, and write in full sentences so you know what you meant later on. (I like to take things a step further and order the list.

Here's what I wrote for a non-fiction WIP, Ingenious Daughter. 

1. Jane achieved in a "man's field" at a time when this was almost unheard of.
2. Jane did not have the education or the credentials that were expected.
3. Jane was dragged into the field against her will by an ambitious father, and then fell in love with the work.
4. Jane mastered the work, achieving what her father could not.
5. She inspired neighbors, including Native Americans, to help her.
6. Jane attracted famous admirers in North America and Europe.
7. Jane had to face down her formidable father to continue her work.
8. Jane's contributions were erased from history by a careless and even misogynist clique.
9. Jane inspired a generation of women, 150 years after her death anyway.
10. Jane lived not far from where I live.

In this case, it was the character that captured my heart. At other times, it has been the concept, or the possibility for a series, or the social cause. Whatever hooks you most should be on the list.

Now, if your infatuation with your story is such that you can't wait. That you must write the first sentence, first scene or first chapter, go ahead. But infatuation is not love. If you have a file cabinet (or disk drive) full of fragments of stories, you know what I mean. Love requires something more substantial. So even though you know this is the story for you (right now), write the list. You'll thank me for two reasons.

First, because this list provides a means to explore your theme in a way that does not lock you into an outline that is too confining. You may want that outline later on, but not before you understand more about the possibilities. The ten reasons will probably push you enough to think about and articulate aspects of your story that would not otherwise be made clear this early.

Second, you can look back at this list when your writing sprint becomes a slog. It will remind you why you liked your protagonist. Why you needed to write this piece. Why your readers will stand up and cheer when they experience your genius. The list has the power to save you from adding to your pile of incomplete manuscripts by reminding you of why you committed your time and imagination to this particular work.

If you are already far into your story, don't hesitate to make your list of ten. It still has value. In fact, I use my lists when I prepare to pitch or when I write query letters. Give it a try, and tell me what you think.

Eat the Elephant

Since I hang around writers, I regularly hear these laments:

"I still have to write my synopsis."

"I haven't been able to write chapter 3."

""My article is due, and I haven't started it yet."

            Etc.

This is heady, frustrating stuff. I always feel pain, the same kind of pain I feel when it is my synopsis or chapter or article.  How can anyone take on such a frightful task, composing elegant, engaging sentences suffused with meaning that magically come together in a lyrical whole that amuses people and rouses them to action? How do you get the damned thing done?

Because you read the title, you know how. Just as you can't swallow an elephant whole, some tasks can't be done in one action. You need to break them up into manageable bits. 

So a few dozen milliseconds after my stomach wrenches at the prospect of, say, writing a commencement speech in three days, I begin to think about how the task can be broken up into smaller bits. What are my key questions. Which people should I talk to? Which Web sites should I visit. How do I dig into the history? What are the possible themes?

You don't have to get the whole job done in creative sweep. You can do a little work on this, and then on this, and… then it's done.

I once got an editing assignment for a book that was half written and stalled. The deadline for a draft was six weeks out. The publication date could not be moved. I had no expertise in the subject area.  

I immediately put aside all concerns post-draft work (proofing, editing, illustrations, etc.). I'd get to those later. Focusing on the draft, the number one thing was an accessible structure. (This is true for almost all nonfiction.) My first jobs became:

• reading through existing material
• talking with the author about his intent
• investigating structures that achieve the intent

Each of these jobs is specific and limited. I was lucky to get great cooperation from the author, including his agreement to my doing rewriting and adding a considerable amount of new material. Looking for smaller tasks made the assignment -- delivering the draft in six weeks -- possible, and, ultimately, the book was done on time and well-received. When you shrink the work down to size, it gets easier.

What do you do to break up the writing tasks you face?

Rewrite 1 - Talk to yourself

For a speechwriter, few things are more painful than hearing your principal stumble over the text - especially if it is your fault. There is no way to prevent this completely, but reading the text aloud before you hand it in cuts down on the chances of embarrassing moments and eliminates the pangs of guilt (mostly).

Yet, a significant percent of the speechwriters I have known and worked with count on listening to the voices in their heads, and they hand in copy that suffers before the audience, time and time again. I can tell immediately if a speech (that may have looked good on paper) has never been read aloud. And this is such an obsession for me, that I have actually confirmed read/never read with the authors. My surveys show that, in general, a stumble means the text has not been tested with an actual, oral reading.

Here's the lesson -- You owe it to yourself, no matter what kind of writing you do, to read your work out loud at least once. It exposes errors, awkward phrasings, convoluted logic, and ambiguities. If you can get someone to listen as you read "final" copy, this is best. But reading the text to yourself, with a pencil in hand to correct or tick off problems to handle later, will substantially improve your prose in a fast, efficient way.

The biggest reason people don't read their text out loud is it feels like unnecessary work. It is easy to convince yourself that, if it looks good on paper or sounds good in your head, reading the text aloud is a waste of time. I have never found this to be true for myself or my students. People have argued with me about this, but I always win by having them read their "perfect" copy out loud.

For many people, it is uncomfortable to read out loud. Oddly enough, this can be true even when no one is around to listen to the reading. Having had nuns who made me quake as I stumbled through oral presentations, I have some sympathy for these people. Here's my suggestion: Read very quietly to yourself. It works.

I got this idea when I took a course with Danny Simon (the inspiration for Felix Ungar). He said his brother Neil would lean in toward his typewriter and read copy to himself before removing a page. Sometimes, he rolled the paper back in so he could make a change. Sometimes he just chuckled to himself.

One more tip: Before I read my text to myself, I let Alex read it to me. This is one of my Mac's text-to-speech personas and the only one I can tolerate. It is available via system preferences, speech, text-to-speech. (Microsoft has text-to-speech, too.) Alex is amazingly good at finding problems. I don't try to correct the text along the way as he reads. Instead, I drop in a Zen comment when I hear something that doesn't sound quite right. (That is, I have the reviewing bar open, move the cursor to the spot where the problem is, and click on the comment button. I do not enter text into the comment box because that would force me to pause Alex.) I go back after he is finished and fix the places I've marked. Since I put Alex to work, my own reads discover about 90% fewer errors.

Finding problems is what rewriting is all about. That's why, even though it sounds crazy, good writers need to make a habit of talking to themselves.