Branching Out
Juliet Marillier on Dec 03 2009 | Filed under: CRAFT
How to get out of a writing rut? I’m not talking about a small blip along the way, the kind of thing that can be surmounted with the aid of a cup of good coffee and a quick brainstorming session. I’m talking the serious downer many of us encounter at some point in our creative process. Somewhere in the production of your bug-whomping epic fantasy / romance / thriller / mystery, you lose faith in some aspect of your own writing – the characters suddenly don’t seem real, the plot feels as if it’s meandering, or someone gives you feedback that causes you a severe case of self-doubt. This can happen when you’re halfway through, when you’ve completed the first draft, or when you’re rewriting in an attempt to fix those very problems. It often happens when you start to share your work with others – friends, relatives, critiquing buddies – and the feedback is less positive than you’d hoped for.
Of course, we all aim to filter critique wisely. Ideally, we take on board what is genuinely helpful and set aside what we know we can never believe in. We then analyse the feedback, make a new plan of action and get straight back to work.
Sounds easy; perhaps too easy. We all know what an immense effort redrafting can be, especially if it involves structural changes. It’s a challenge akin to climbing the glass mountain, two steps forward, one step back, and in that process it’s all too common to start losing enthusiasm for the project.
One possible approach is to take time out from the magnum opus to do something else. I’m not talking about raking up leaves, going for a bike ride or knitting a teddy bear – though such activities can be good circuit breakers – but taking on an alternative writing project. If you are a novelist bogged down in your masterwork, why not attempt a short story or novella as a change? The side project can even be set in the familiar and well-fleshed-out world of your novel. This way you can exercise your writing skills, create something that may well be saleable in the future, and add to the depth of your world or characters while taking time out from the novel itself.
Or you may write a short work that is in complete contrast to your novel – different genre, different setting, different target audience. You may set yourself a particular technical challenge – write the story in second person, or write it in verse. This will not only maintain the creative flow, but also develop your skills, refresh your mind and send you back to the novel with batteries recharged.
Earlier this year, I was asked to contribute a novella to an anthology featuring work by well-known Australian fantasy writers. The pieces were to be set in the worlds of our existing novels, or in worlds to be featured in our future novels. I set aside my work in progress to write a 20,000 word story set in the Sevenwaters world. I built some technical challenges into the novella project, attempting for the first time a dual first person point of view and a combination of past and present tense narratives. Whether I’d have taken on that project if I’d known I would be diagnosed with cancer just as I was finishing it is a moot point. Medical treatment gobbled up a lot of my writing time this year, resulting in an uncomfortably short deadline for the novel.
Despite that, taking time out to write the novella is one of the best creative choices I’ve made. I enjoyed the technical challenges, loved revisiting old characters and fleshing out their stories, and felt a deep sense of satisfaction in the end result. My motivation for taking on this project was not, in fact, being bogged down with my novel, but enthusiasm for the anthology’s concept and respect for the editors. But the satisfaction of completing the novella and the depth it added to the Sevenwaters world, in which the novel is also set, were instrumental in keeping me writing, albeit slowly, during this difficult year.
I do believe one of the best approaches to getting stuck is to put your manuscript away in a drawer – right away, out of sight – and have a go at something else for a month, two months, three – however long it takes you to finish an alternative project. You should emerge with something new plus a fresh eye for problem-solving in your major work. In fact, you may decide your novel is not so bad after all.
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Great post, Juliet, and something I needed to hear! Thank you.
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Right on the mark, Juliet! This post hit home for me today as I am feeling the woes of self-denial. So now I plan on doing just as you say: moving on to something else to give my mind time to recharge before attempting Draft #2. Thanks for a great post!
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Great advice.
We make short films and write features. To keep our minds (and skills) fresh, we participate in timed writing contests, such as those offered by NYC Midnight. For example, we’re currently participating in one that starts when they send us an assignment (genre, location, special prop) at midnight on a Friday and ends when we send them the best 5-page script we could come up with before midnight on the following Sunday.
These contests give us a weekend away from our primary project, get our creative juices flowing, and allow us to create something new in the span of 48 hours that reminds us that we can (and always do) finish what we start.
Thanks for the post. Love your writing style!
Julie & Jessica
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Excellent post!
I’ve found that working on something fresh will give me the break I need. I’m currently experiencing a lot of frustration with revisions on my first novel, and part of it is because I’d set unrealistic goals. In my mind, it should have been finished a long time ago.
But in the meantime, I’ve finished another novel, started on my third (and fourth, but one of those is getting more attention than the other so I don’t really count it yet), written a handful of short fiction, different worlds and genres, etc. It works for me, anyway.
Shameless plug: The Fire In Fiction by Donald Maass has helped me immensely with the revisions I mentioned above. If you see this, Don, thanks a million!
.-= Lydia Sharp´s last blog ..Conversation Between Married Writers =-.
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Great advice. Jhumpa Lahiri says she does the same thing: she started with a collection of short stories (Interpreter of Maladies), and as she was winding down that project, she said she needed something different to tackle, so she started a novel (The Namesake). And halfway through the novel, she needed something new, so she went back to shorts (Unaccustomed Earth). She said she thinks she’ll probably always go back and forth like that, at least a little, because it helps keep the creative juices flowing.
.-= Kristan´s last blog ..Take a trip (in photos) =-.
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Excellent advice — now all I have to do is take it! Thanks.
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So…you’re letting us know when the anthology releases, right??
Starting something new seems the opposite of my natural in-a-writing-funk instinct, which is essentially to become a laptop-wielding agoraphobe. I’m terrified to leave my novel for fear I’ll miss out on prime writing time, all the time.
This is not to say work gets done.
Will have to experiment with short storying…
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Some excellent ideas here, Juliet. Clients of my literary agency often come to me with doubts about their works-in-progress. Sometimes these doubts slow them down or stop them so they’re in danger of not meeting deadlines. The best piece of advice I give to these writers is to block out the outside world. By this I mean:
Don’t read customer critiques of your books on Amazon. Don’t read reviews of your previous books.
Don’t pick up some other author’s novel; you may find it so good that you’ll further lose faith in your own writing.
Don’t read articles about the latest trends in fiction (you’ll undoubtedly want to incorporate them into the book you’re writing).
Don’t show your work to your writing buddy or critique group–or to anyone, for that matter.
Don’t ask your editor or agent to read what you’ve already written.
What SHOULD the blocked writer do?
Carefully reread your outline or synopsis; try to recapture the excitement you felt when you wrote it.
Don’t print out your manuscript (which of course means don’t edit it). Instead, reread the chapter before you got blocked, refer to your outline, and force yourself to write SOMETHING that continues the story line. If you find you’ve lost the thread of the book and need to go back farther, perhaps even to the beginning, that’s fine, but don’t edit, just read.
The key is FORCE YOURSELF. You know the old adage “fake it till you make it”? That’s what works here–just start writing, get the words down, get back into the flow. You’ll edit it all later.
.-= Evan Marshall´s last blog ..When Word People Need Design Help =-.
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You know what I like about WU? Not just that I love each day’s essay, but I love reading the comments, too! So much good advice and wisdom on this blog. Thanks, WU Thea
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Thanks for the additional excellent advice here in comments, Evan. Good to see you here.
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It is the nature of big novels to feel like they have fallen apart halfway through the process. Indeed, it’s inevitable.
Accepting that as a necessary occurance is, I think, the first step toward regaining a sense of command and recapturing the initial excitement.
Second, if you are grounded in the principles of character, story and scene construction–if you have learned your craft–then you can be assured that your messy draft really isn’t as sick as you imagine. The medicine it needs is revision, that’s all.
Third, passion is something that you can summon on any writing day. In The Fire in Fiction I discuss ways to do that, but essentially it means asking yourself not just why does this story matter but why does this moment matter?
Every scene–indeed, every page–has something vital, urgent, emotional and important underlying it. The commitment to finding that, feeling that and using that–every day, all the time–is the commitment made by true storytellers.
Or to put it more simply, go ahead and feel down–then just get over it. You’re a novelist.
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Well put. Well timed. I’m just coming through this tunnel right now. Put aside the story that I’ve been absorbed in for two years to do NaNo. I needed the break. Something new and fresh to divert me. Now I’m going back and just reading through the other story and–taking a break does wonders. I don’t feel so depressed, so blocked, or bewildered. I’m ready to dive back in and my focus has cleared.
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What wise and interesting comments. They demonstrate that there are many effective approaches to any problem. Just as well, because writers are a motley bunch and one size definitely doesn’t fit all.
Hillary, I will provide further details of the anthology closer to its release date of July 2010. The editors are Jack Dann and Jonathan Strahan.
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Great post and advice. Thanks.
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I would like someone to address one tiny point in your post. Writing in 2nd person. I claim this is an artificial contrivance. In a recipe book, one could say the writer is writing in 2nd person, “You add a cup of flour and stir well.” When really it’s “I added a cup of flour… And it worked; so it’ll probably work for you.”
A person cannot tell me “You thought about X.” That person can’t tell me what I’m thinking. It might scare him what I’m really thinking. He just can’t know what I’m thinking.
Please, some of you writers address this 2nd person POV.
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asdfg, I’ll start out by saying the two examples I gave of technical challenges (writing something in second person or writing a story in verse) were chosen because I thought they were particularly difficult to do well.
The writer can’t tell you what you’re thinking, no. But then, she might be telling you what she thinks you’re thinking. Or what she thinks you should be thinking … Remember, the ‘you’ here probably isn’t the reader, but someone else known to the narrator – an absent character.
The writer can write what ‘you’ are doing, or what you have done in the past. She can show what you are or were thinking and feeling through your actions and speech.
A second person story could be like a letter to someone absent. It could be what the narrator desperately wants to tell someone, but can’t because that person is insane, in prison far away, dead, married to someone else, not born yet …
Two high profile writers I can think of who have used second person in novels are Iain Banks (A Song of Stone) and Jeff Vandermeer (Veniss Underground).
As a reader, I find second person extremely annoying, even when skilfully done.
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Thank you, Juliet, this is just what I needed right now. I’m almost at the end of a first draft and am really feeling the strain as I can’t solve some plot problems. Perhaps it’s time to pack this away for a while and move on.
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