Category Archives: Writing

Progress on my fantasy themed novel.

Writing

Writing

I give up.  I’m not giving up my writing, just giving up my resistance to outlining.  Eighty-three thousand words in and now I decide to outline. Why?

For one thing, I began my novel way back on the 5th September, 2011. It fizzled right off towards the end of 2012. I gave myself time to brainstorm and started off with renewed enthusiasm in the new year, 2013, but then Mr R’s youngest son died towards the end of January.  I hardly wrote the rest of the year. The usual New Years Resolution saw me get back into it again, and I have been pretty consistent so far. I like what I have written, as long as I am the only one who gets to read it!

I think it is about time I knew how it will end. The ideas I have are far too vague. I don’t really know if there is a real theme. I don’t like the idea of my son-in-law reading what I have written so far, and then there is my newly minted teenage grand-daughter who might get her hands on it. That horrifies me, not to mention other family.   My adult fantasy will morph into young adult. I’ll feel better about it. Don’t get me wrong, there isn’t rampant you know what in it — see, I can’t even write the word online, unless it should associate itself with my blog.

I have Karen S Wiesner’s book First Draft in 30 Days, from the library, and I still wasn’t convinced. It isn’t really a first draft, she says, it is such a comprehensive outline, it stands in place of a first draft.

I picked over some of my own books.  Stephen King doesn’t outline, has just outlined two of his published novels; Terry Brooks swears by outlining;  Orson Scott Card has omitted the O word from the index in How to Write Science Fiction & Fantasy but goes into great detail on the pros and cons of both outlining and not outlining in his Plot and Structure, no right or wrong way.

In Story Structure (the first of The Red Sneaker series which arrived in my mailbox this week),  William Bernhard asks why would you believe anything a fiction writer says about not outlining. He says that even if they don’t call it outlining they still do it, even if it is only in their heads. Last night I read most of this little book, coming away convinced by his advice once and for all. The diagrams of acts, story arcs, turning point positions, etc, made me wake up I had no idea where in my story these things were officially taking place.

After all, I’m going to need an outline during the submission process. And there will be a submission process — no whacking it straight online as an e-book. I’ll wait for the knock-backs first.

Tomorrow, I will get stuck into outlining my 83000 words and beyond. Fortunately, Karen has told me the best way  to go about doing just that with WIP in First Draft in 30 Days.

And then the end will be in a clear line of sight.

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Challenges, Writing

DPchallenge: A Manner of Speaking

I decided to do a little story for the current DPchallenge instead of writing another scene in my novel. The topic of the Daily Post Weekly Writing Challenge is:  A Manner of Speaking

Edited, thankfully, before I go to bed.  I just noticed the date of the challenge … April 29 2013.  Oh well, my intentions were good.  I’m not about to delete it. 🙂

A TALE OF TWO TEAS

I glanced at the clock, nearly two already.

I hurried to the fridge, took out the leg of lamb and plopped it in the biggest roasting pan I had. After dashing in some water, I shoved it into the oven, pleased to see the temperature on moderate. I wanted to have tea ready early, well before me mates got here.

I opened the Wellstood and had a gander. It was right for wood for a while yet. I went into the pantry to fill the colander from the spud bag. I tucked a pumpkin under one wing and plopped both things on the sink. I glanced at the clock again: too early to peel the spuds but I could wash them now. I did so, first fishing out the vegie knife from the drawer and throwing towards the pumpkin which I could chop now, too. Dumping the colander to drain, I reached for the chopping board.

A knock at the door froze me in my tracks. Who could that be? On the way to the door, I straightened my apron and combed my hair with my fingers.

“Celia?” I tried to sound welcoming but all my brain could say was what in blue blazes are you doing here so damned early? We kissed cheeks. I took the proffered plate of bikkies.

“I’m looking forward to this cuppa and chat with all youse girls,” Celia said as she sat at the kitchen table, looking at the stove. “Geez, Shirl, you haven’t even got the kettle boiling yet. A fine way to treat someone you invited around for tea.” She jumped up and moved the kettle over.

“Tea?” The penny dropped and Celia cottoned on.

She gave me an odd look. “You meant dinner, didn’t you? Tonight?”

I smiled as bright as I could, but, before I could admit it, the back door banged fair fit to wake the dead.

“Cooooeeeeee!” Rita loved to announce herself this way. She put a plate of butternut snaps on the table as we kissed cheeks. She glanced at the stove over Celia’s shoulder.

“Fair suck of the sauce bottle, luv,” she said. “You haven’t even got the teapot warmed yet.”

Celia winked. She wasn’t going to dob me in. I swept the spuds and pumpkin off the sink and hid them in the cupboard. I would have time to cook them later, after the girls had left.

The kettle sang as I reached for the tea caddy cannister. I mechanically went through the motions, all the while wondering how many of the girls I invited for tea would turn up.

I sighed.

I would never get the hang of calling tea bloody dinner. Dinner was is in the middle of the day.

Tea was good enough for me mum and dad, and their mum and dad, and it was is good enough for me.

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Other Stuff, Writing

What mattered to me in 2009.

I found this in My Documents while looking for something else. At first, I had no idea under what circumstances I wrote this back in 2009. While composing this post, I remembered it was a mind-mapping, or brainstorming exercise from some book I got from the library — a right brain, left brain thing. I expect the exercise was “What matters?” and after doodling down keywords I sprang into prose as suggested. Startled by the last sentence, I then recalled it was an unexpected insight then, too.  Anyway, I thought I would share it.

AND WHAT DOES MATTER TO ME?   I ASKED MYSELF!
And the answer came back, it matters to me to have JOY in my life. To have JOY I need to LOVE and TO BE LOVED. This is pretty easy as I have Rob and Vika to GIVE AND RECEIVE LOVE every day. And then there is the JOY I receive from my two children, to whom I freely give unconditional LOVE. That JOY extends with the special grandmotherly LOVE that I have for the children of my children. Over the past years my perspective of myself has changed, as I have unearthed the names and lives of my ancestors. This gives me JOY and RESPECT for their BRAVERY for coming to make a new life in a new land, and makes me THANKFUL for my life. To be JOYFUL, I try my best to be HAPPY WITH ME. I try not to judge myself against the lifestyle and material achievement of others. To own JOY, I do not need money, though it helps! I like to think that I have a POSITIVE outlook on my life, being a ‘glass half full’ person. Like my Heroine, Pollyanna, I LOOK FOR THE SILVER LINING in every dark cloud, and I DON’T SWEAT THE SMALL STUFF. I am no longer afraid of being alone.

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