This is my second baseball science fiction story to appear in the magazine, and still the baseball stories are not out of my system yet. I’m not certain which issue it will be appearing in but I’ll post an update when I know.
“Life is largely unplotted…”
Jamie writes by the seat of his pants –which is akin to running with scissors IMHO– while I choose the wiser and more prudent course of carefully plotting my works.
While it is probably beside the point, I was always taught that there is a right way and a wrong way to run with scissors. Or perhaps, a safe way, and a dangerous way. On those rare instances where I run with scissors, I opt for the safe way, holding blades curled in my fist to prevent myself from stabbing anyone, especially me.
But Bud also goes on to say that he chooses the “wiser” and “more prudent” course, and that is carefully plotting out everything he writes.
It might be wiser and more prudent for Bud, but it just doesn’t work for me. When I try to plot out my stories, the result is stories that are too neatly plotted. Everything fits together too well. Coincidence rears its head more often than it should. In other words, the stories feel plotted.
Instead, I have become a big believer in Stephen King’s suggestion that life is largely unplotted. For me, planning out too much makes the stories feel artificial. I prefer a more natural approach where the plot develops from the situation the characters find themselves in and the actions that they take. This has worked well for me. The stories I write organically, without planning every step of the way, have sold faster, and in general been more successful than those that I have carefully plotted out.
Practice makes perfect
Bud goes on to talk about my prodigious output, although he exaggerates slightly. While I have been aiming for a 1,000 words/day, I average about 850. But I do write every day, and haven’t missed a day in 656 days now. In those 656 days, I’ve written 575,000 words. So Bud is right; I write a lot.
But then, my plotting friend goes on to say:
Instead, due to his hasty and impetuous headlong dash to finish something he has to throw out most of his words, edit with a chainsaw, and rewriting practically everything. From this I draw the conclusion that writing by the seat of your pants is wasteful of time and talent. (Emphasis is mine.)
Here is where Bud and I part company. Would a music teacher say that it is a wasteful to practice your scales? Would a medical school professor tell students it is a waste of time and talent to intern? Would professional baseball player say that it is a waste of time to practice hitting in the batting cage? Would a flight instructor tell a student pilot that it is a waste of time time practice takeoffs and landing?
Then why do we think that it is a waste of time for writers to write. Bud is correct: I write a lot, and much of it gets re-written from scratch. But I don’t see it as wasteful of time; I see it as the practice I need to develop my talent. I know of no other way to become a better writer than to write. For me, the proof is in the numbers. Prior to writing every day, I sold 1 story on average every 3 years. Since my writing streak started, I’ve sold one story or article every 45 days.
Pantsing and plotting are not opposites
I find that people think pantsing means that opposite of plotting–no planning at all. For me, at least, that is not the case. I know where my story will start, and I have an idea of where it will end. Then I start writing, working my way toward that ending. The planning happens more informally, more in realtime than it might if I plotted it out. Sometimes I hit my mark, and the story ends where I imagined it would when I started. Other times, the story surprises me. The same is true for those, like Bud, who plot everything out ahead of time.
But I also need the writing experience to be a discovery for me. Plotting out things ahead of time has the same effect on me as talking about my stories: it spoils the excitement of the story.
The most important thing is to write
Bud is a more experienced writer than I am2 and can put that experience to better use than someone with less experience. But as I see it, the only way to gain experience is to write. It doesn’t really matter whether you are a plotter or pantser. What matters is that you find the process that works best for you, the one that feels right, the one that encourages you to keep at it day after day after day, through the rough patches, and through the rejections. The most important thing is to keep writing.
I struggled for a while with the first draft of the first novel. I went through 7 restarts because I couldn’t make the story work the way I wanted. I came close to giving up and moving on to something else, but I really like the story, and I decided to press on. I’m glad I did. I think I figured out the trouble I was having. It fell into 2 categories:
- Point of view. All along, I was writing the novel as though it was a set of notes in a notebook of the main characters, who was telling the story to some unknown audience. I kept running into problems because it felt like the main character was deliberately holding back information for no good reason. It felt unnatural. It took a long time before I figured out was that I needed to tell the story from another character’s viewpoint, one who doesn’t already know the whole story. Then it took more time to figure out who this character should be. But I finally did it, and I think things will move much better now. In fact, I think the story will be a better story because of this.
- Framework. I have only written one other novel draft. Part of the reason I’m trying to do more is to get the practice and learn how to do it. But writing at length has been giving me trouble. Not because I can’t do it, but because I feel like I’m adding too much filler to the story that isn’t necessary. I felt like I was handling something too big. So I began to wonder if there wasn’t some way of telling the story using smaller, more management chunks. Thanks to changes in #1 above, I found a way to do this. As it now stands, I am writing the novel as a series of 5 novellas, each one flowing smoothly into the next. Each novella is essentially a stand-alone story, that allows me to work at a length that I am little more comfortable with. But in truth they are all tightly integrated, and with the exception of the first novella, you couldn’t really read a later one without having read the first one. In that sense, the novel is more like an episodic series of novellas. This, too, seems to be working better for me.
I had planned to finish up the first draft of the first novel at the end of June. I don’t think I am going to hit that mark now. More than likely, it will be closer to the end of July or early August. Of course, that throws off the rest of the schedule I had planned. On the other hand, this is intended to be a learning experience for me, and I am learning a lot about how to make longer stories work. To that end, I am very pleased.
I have no idea if this story will ultimately work; I really won’t know until I complete the second draft. But it is a story I like a lot, and I am sticking with it until it is finished.
For those wondering, I wrote about 25,000 words total in starts and restarts on the current novel draft before finally figuring out what I was doing wrong. Some folks might see those 25,000 words as wasted. I see them as invaluable practice as I attempt to learn new aspects of my craft.
At present, this is the only science fiction convention I’ll be attending in 2015.
My friend Allen Steele will be there, as will Jack McDevitt. RavenCon is the first convention I ever attended after selling my first story back in 2007 so it holds a special place in my heart.
On Sunday, April 26, Bud Sparhawk and I will be giving a talk on “Plotters vs. Pantsers,” Bud being the “plotter” and yours truly being the “pantser.” We’ve done a version of this with respect to online writing tools at Capclave, but this talk is focused on the two methods and their respective advantages and disadvantages. It should be a fun talk if you can make it.
I’ll be arriving in Richmond around lunchtime on Friday, and staying through the convention, so if you think you’ll be there, and you see, say hello.
I suppose this is understandable. With the limited time I have to write each day, my focus has been on getting my fiction-writing done first. If there’s time, I’ll might write on the blog. Might. Because lately, I’ve felt stagnant when it comes to the blog. I used to write whatever came to mind, but I’ve shied away from that lately. In part it’s time, and in part I’ve worried about a lack of interest, and that I might come across as trying too hard.
Then, too, I have felt for a while now the need to move beyond WordPress as the primary tool for my blog writing. I’ve considered changing things up, using a new theme, but really what I need is something entirely different. This feeling of stagnation and the need to break out into something different lead naturally into transition.
Going forward, I will be doing the bulk of my blog-type writing over on Medium. I’ve been impressed with Medium for a while, but I wasn’t sure why I was impressed until recently. I think it comes down to a few important factors:
1. Simplicity. Medium is easy to use, and far easier to maintain than a self-managed WordPress installation. The time I gain back in maintenance can be used to write the kind of things I’m interested in writing more frequently than I have been.
2. Aesthetics. Medium is beautiful. I love reading things there. There is a simple elegance to the design, that makes reading a pleasure. Then, too, those same aesthetics apply to the writing experience. It is easy to write and format stories on Medium. It had interface that makes me want to write more.
3. The right metrics. Monitoring WordPress metrics became a kind of part-time job for me. How many views? How many clicks? From where? Drilling down into Google Analytics data, when I could be writing. And I’ve come to believe that most of those metrics don’t really mean that much. After all, someone can visit a post but not read it. Which is why I like Medium’s approach: They track one key measurement: “read ratio.” It’s a measure of reads to views, and it tells you how many people are actually reading what you wrote.
4. Discussions. Nothing beats Medium’s commenting and discussion system. You can comment on any part of a story. You can highlight pieces, and recommend the story. Like everything else about Medium, it is simple and elegant.
I want to assure folks that this blog here is not going away. However, it’s function is changing. Over on Medium I’ll be writing about writing, and technology, and paperless lifestyle, and productivity, and baseball, and lots of other things. But I won’t be making announcements over there. That’s what this blog will be used for.
I suppose you can think of it as this blog becoming my author “platform” (I dislike the term, but I can’t argue with its appropriateness in this case.) New publications, new stories, articles, appearances, and things like that will be announced here for those interested.
I have built up a wonderful audience over the years, and I can only hope that some of you will be willing to follow me over to Medium and keep up with what I am writing over there. You can even add my Medium posts to your RSS feed, using this link. I understand not everyone will want to make that transition with me, and that this might be a good time to pursue other blogs, or cut back on blog reading. But I do hope that moving to Medium will help rekindle the fires that kept me blogging for nearly a decade, and that the lessons I’ve learned over the years will make me a better writer because of it.
As an example of one kind of thing I am trying to do over on Medium, take a look at the post I wrote there earlier today called, “Excavating Old-School Self-Tracking.” And if you are interesting in following along with me on Medium, you can find my profile at: https://medium.com/@jamietr.
But the most remarkable thing I’ve learned in this book is something about Heinz himself. I am also a big fan of M*A*S*H. The book, upon which both the movie and the series was based, was written by Richard Hooker. Well, it turns out that Richard Hooker is a pseudonym for pair of writers. One is H. Richard Hornberger, a doctor who served in Korea. The other writer was–you guessed it–W. C. Heinz.
I thought that was a pretty cool connection, when I learned of it in the intro to the book.
I know that I have friends and fellow fans out there who can’t afford a supporting membership, and so, taking a page from Mary’s book, I am offering 5 supporting memberships for Worldcon for people who can’t otherwise afford one.
Part of the fun of the World Science Fiction Convention is being able to vote on your favorite works from the previous year, and that $40 supporting membership is difficult for some folks. If you can afford, it, I encourage you to get a supporting membership. If you can’t afford one, shoot me an email at feedback [at] jamietoddrubin [dot] com with your contact information. Also, because of the controversy surrounding the Hugo Awards this year, I want to be clear that for folks who get these supporting membership: please don’t feel constrained in your vote. Participation in the fan process is all that I am hoping for.
Next week, I’ll pick the 5 names randomly from the requests that I get, and buy the memberships through the Sasquan website on their behalf.
ETA (4/15): All 5 supporting memberships have been given out to folks making requests. As it turned out, I had exactly 5 requests for a membership through today, so that made things easy.
I do not believe in Guilt by Association, and that’s what we’d be doing if we vote against every name on the Puppy slates simply because they are on the slate. That was a classic weapon of the McCarthy Era: first you blacklist the communists, then you blacklist the people who defend the communists and the companies that hire them, then you blacklist the people who defend the people on the blacklist, and on and on, in ever widening circles. No. I won’t be part of that.
I completely agree.
Today, I spent six hours in meetings, and the remaining time preparing for them. It’s been like this for a week or so now. My days have been long, and when you add in the writing in the evenings, they have been even longer. I think I set a personal record earlier this week. RescueTime told me that I’d spent 18 hours on the computer in a single day!
Tonight, my writing was uninspired. I don’t feel much like reading, or even listening to an audiobook. My brain has reached its capacity. I need to disconnect and allow it to cool off a bit. So I am going to try to take the weekend off. I’ll still get in my writing–after 627 consecutive days it is unthinkable not to write. But I may take a break from fiction this weekend and write two nonfiction pieces that I’ve been meaning to write for some time now. It will give me a well-needed break from fiction. And nonfiction is easier on my brain than fiction, so that’s an added bonus.
I am also going to try to stay offline for the most part this weekend. I’m not going to read much. Instead, I’m going to something I don’t do often: sit in front of the TV and watch episodes of Magnum, P.I. and M*A*S*H. Hopefully, by Monday, I’ll feel more like my 2015-self, and less like the 1992-sleep-deprived college version of myself.
Have a great weekend!
The two novels took different approaches to time dilation: that effect that relatively has on time when one approaches the speed of light. Anderson’s book examined the extremes, reaching out for the end of time, the end of the universe, the end of all things–all within a single human lifespan. Haldeman’s novel took the personal approach, looking at the effect of time dilation on a few individuals, over a much small time scale.
I was more effected by The Forever War than by Tau Zero. The notion that time slows down as a person approaches the speed of light fascinated me. I remembered a commercial for Omni magazine which described the twins paradox. All of that stuck with me, and I remembering wondering if a parent traveled close enough to the speed of light, might not their children grow older than them while they were away?
The thought eventually led me to write a story called “Flipping the Switch” that deals with that very paradox. Although I first started writing the story in late 2008 or early 2009, it wasn’t published until 2013, when it appeared in the original anthology Beyond the Sun, edited by Bryan Thomas Schmidt.
And then, a week ago, I finally got around to seeing Interstellar. While I am not generally a fan of science fiction movies (something that people have a hard time believing, since I write science fiction), I really enjoyed Interstellar. I was the best science fiction movie I’ve seen since Contact. I watched the movie, and then, later that same evening, I watched it again. I know that some people complained that, despite the best efforts, some of the science was not accurate. Others complained that the dialog was poorly written. I enjoyed it all. Most of all, I enjoyed seeing the paradox that I envisioned in my story come to life in a well-executed conclusion. Indeed, the ending of Interstellar reminded me, in some ways, of the ending of Isaac Asimov’s “The Bicentennial Man.”
I also loved the vision of robots in Interstellar. The AIs of that world reminded me of the AIs that populate Jack McDevitt’s Alex Benedict novels. Their versatility was impressive, but I also enjoyed the personalization: you could define humor, honesty, and other elements to your taste.
Contact was a more cerebral movie than Interstellar, but Interstellar made me feel like I was traveling to alien worlds. It is a movie that I know I will enjoy watching again from time to time.
Perhaps the most exciting part of the game for the Little Man was the thought of getting Cracker Jacks. He knew about Cracker Jacks from the song, of course, and also because Caillou has them in an episode of that cartoon. But the Little Man had never had them before. So when we arrived at the stadium the very first thing that we did, even before going to our seats, was seek out Cracker Jacks. Eventually, we located a bag (they are no longer sold in boxes, at least not at Nationals Park) of Cracker Jacks. We added to this, two hot dogs, a small soda, and a beer. Then we sought out our seats. We were high up, but had a good view of the playing field, which is what I wanted so that I could explains things about the game to the Little Man. We both wore our Yankees hats, and while we sat among many Nationals fans, there were plenty of Yankees fans to be seen around the park.
The Little Man picked up the rhythm of the game quickly, and even learned to follow the scoreboard for balls, strikes, and outs. When the Nationals would make a good play on the Yankees, he’d say, “Aw, man!” When the Yankees made a good play, he became wildly excited. He saw his first home run that game, and that brought the score to 3-2 (the Yanks had been trailing.)
When A-Rod came to the plate, and the stadium booed, the Little Man wondered why. I explained that A-Rod had cheated, and had not been allowed to play baseball for a year, and that a lot of people (myself included) were upset that he cheated.
We stayed for five full innings before the Little Man got too restless and wanted to head home. We left with the Nationals leading 3-2, and that means that we missed the Yankees comeback home run in the 8th inning. But it was still fun. I mean a lot of fun. At one point, entirely on his own volition the Little Man turned to me and said, “Thanks for bringing me to the game, Daddy.” Really, it was perfect.
It made me wonder who really had more fun, him, for me, watching him. I thought about my Dad taking me to baseball games when I was very young, and had a sudden realization that it must have been fun for him in the same way that it was fun for me on Saturday. The Little Man got to see the game, and got to eat a bag of Cracker Jacks, and I got to sit there and watch him do it. I imagine we will be doing it again, before long.