Final NaNo Stats

Hi everyone. I'll bet you're tired of hearing about National Novel Writing Month, since several people blogged about it during November. I always like to reflect on what I took away from the experience, so bear with me.

What I learned:
1. Sometimes jumping around out of order helps cut down unnecessary scenes, makes you think harder about how the characters got from Point A to Point C, and lets you avoid writer's block.

2. Having a music playlist going, tailored to the mood and themes of the story, helps keep you in the zone.

3. You really can carve out more time for writing. Why in the world did I think I had less time during the rest of the year? November's a busy month and yet look what I accomplished.

4. Putting the internal editor in the cooler frees your creative flow, lets you experiment and try out angles you wouldn't have otherwise. Knowing that you're constructing a first draft is also freeing because no one else has to see it yet. You can make mistakes, skip over things, not worry about the technical side, and just relax and have fun with telling a story.

5. Those around you have the opportunity to gain more respect for your writing and that you take it seriously.

6. In reality, it's not about the numbers. The numbers and the calendar are the motivators. If you didn't finish the story, keep going into the next month. Hopefully you'll have picked up some good work habits.

7. If what you planned to work on during NaNo isn't the story you think about waking up day 1, don't stress about keeping to your plan. I had planned on working on two new novels. Only one of them made it into the creative process in November, and only after I'd written a completely different story first.

8. I went on a trip of self-discovery, analyzing myself and my writing naturally rather than under the microscope of the internal editor or outside influences. I have a better idea of who my audience will be, learned to accept my writing style, and became disillusioned about many of the things touted online as absolutes. I realized I had wasted time trying to fit some preconceived mold, a mold that doesn't really exist. I'd tweaked, and ripped apart, and overdone previous work which hadn't needed that rough kind of treatment.

I realized that I don't write typical commercial/mainstream fiction. I'm a niche and knowing that lifted so much anxiety, pain, and self-doubt from my shoulders. Then I was able to embrace that knowledge and it fueled my passion for storytelling. No more trying to please everyone or force my story (or myself) to be something we're not.

So what came out of November for me?
1. A completed rough draft at 48,531 words, written in 9 days.
This one surprised me. Once every few years a story idea captures my imagination so well that I have no difficulty in getting it down on paper in record time. But this is rare. I'm not normally this fast.

2. A draft 2/3 completed for another novel, a sequel. The word count is a bit hazy on this one, since I had to incorporate bits and pieces of scenes I'd previously written into it. I spent 8 days on this one, it's currently at 52,172, and most of the words were new material. This novel slowed me down somewhat, as the trilogy it belongs to is layered, complex, and involves multiple POVs and plotlines. It's satisfying to write, but I had to stop and map out the chronology to make sure the nodes of conjunction I had to write would match up correctly.

3. Made headway into a third novel. I spent 4 days on it and the word count comes to 7,196. This one follows the sequel in the trilogy and oddly I spent my writing time on the last third of this story. And it made me cry! I never cry reading or writing books. I didn't realize I was crying at first either. The truly weird part was that the scene I was constructing was actually a happy scene, a huge climax, but uplifting. The other relieving circumstance in mapping out this third book was realizing it could be the last. I don't have to write a fourth! (Originally I had two books which turned out to be too large so I figured I'd have to break them in half to write four.)

How about you?
Did you realize anything about yourself? Make a breakthrough creatively? Reach your word count goals? What did you take away from NaNo this year?

 

It's Okay to Take a Day Off

NaNo update:
Days spent writing - 3
Words written - 18,924
Goal - 100,000 words in 16 days

Hi everyone. I feel like I'm poking my head outside, even though life hasn't stopped still while I've retreated into some kind of writing cave. If you look at the stats above, you'll notice that not only am I trying to do double the regular NaNo word count, but also in half the time.

Why is that?

Well, life happens. I have a family and several other obligations. So do most of you. A few days before November started I pulled up my monthly calendar, calculated how many days I was pretty sure I'd get some writing time in, and how many words I'd have to write each of those days to meet my goal. Luckily 6500-7000 words doesn't intimidate me. Word vomit is easy. The internal editor is tied and gagged, I jump around from key scene to key scene, not stressing over transitions or plot layers and I get a first draft done. The main story.

And oh, how I needed this kind of writing freedom! I've been in editing mode for too long. Editing drafts are the ones that help you grow and at the same time make you feel inferior, stupid, and weak as a writer. Going on editing mode for a great length of time wears down your ambition, your self-esteem, and your love for writing.

Which brings me to the main point of this blogpost. We need days off, guilt-free days, where we feel no constraint to approach writing or editing. I know the usual mantra on the internet is to write every day. I've found it counter-productive to drive myself at that pace, even if it's a measly 500 words one day and 5,000 another. I always reserve one day of the week to not write. And I've never broken that resolve. It's my day to step back from most things that I do during the week. I rest. I relax. I don't allow myself to feel the slightest bit anxious or guilty because I'm not writing. I don't even jot down writing notes if ideas come to me. If they're strong enough ideas, they'll keep until the next day.

After three intensive days of writing for NaNo I've pondered more on the idea of a day of rest from writing. Not a compulsion to rest because of outside obligations, but the choice to rest. To live and focus on resting. After 4-5 hours each day of nonstop writing, when I took my day off, it made a world of difference getting back into the third day's writing work. It's easy to become brain fried, dry out your eyes, and get headaches if you devote hours to writing every single day. If you suffer from these kinds of symptoms, I recommend setting aside a day off from writing. Take it even if you didn't get much done the rest of the week. Let it be your guilt-free day.

And now, I have to get back to work. I wasn't planning on writing today but some free time opened up unexpectedly and I intend to take advantage of it, because who knows what will pop up on one of my designated days to write?

Guest Post: When Longer Books Work

I'd like to welcome another Speculative Fiction Group member to Yesternight's Voyage today.

Robert Courtland writes epic fantasy tales from his home in Colorado at the foot of the majestic Rocky Mountains. His main goal in writing is to bring something new to epic fantasy. In his first novel, Counterpoint to Chaos, he created an Asian inspired setting and inserted a young woman from Pakistan as the heroine. Look for Counterpoint to Chaos at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, iTunes, Kobo, and Smashwords. Visit Robert’s website for the latest updates on what he is writing.

To continue the question of word count from last week, here we go:

Fiction comes to us in many lengths, from the flash fiction stories that are barely a page to the great epic tales that play out over multiple books and millions of words. When done right, stories are enjoyable to read at any length. But the longer the story is the easier and more likely a writer will include things in the final draft that serve no purpose and often only end up boring the reader. The structure and content of a story is very much related to its length and a story won’t work if it is built on the wrong structure.

That brings me to the dark horse of most of the publishing world, novels with high word counts. How do these authors justify such lengthy stories? They exist in many genres, but only in speculative fiction are the longer lengths books truly the norm and there is a very good reason for that. To justify having a longer story, the story needs to be grander and unable to be told with fewer words. My examples are from epic fantasy, but they apply to any successful story in the neighborhood of 150,000 words or more.

One of the first things about speculative fiction is a broad and varied world to set the story in. J.R.R. Tolkien spent years creating the world of Middle Earth from tidbits of Finish and English myths and legends and a good bit of his own imagination. He created parts of it in the trenches in WWI. Twenty years later he penned The Hobbit and then fifteen years after that he finished The Lord of the Rings. That is a bit extreme, but such thorough work meant Tolkien knew his world intimately. Writers of historical fiction do this same thing through research, but for speculative fiction writers, it requires far more imagination than research.

Another thing is a vast scope to the story. Kings and commoners, humans and elves (or aliens), good and evil, war and peace all work to add to the scope. On the surface, The Lord of the Rings is about the quest to destroy the One Ring, but doing so leads from Hobbiton to Rivendell and eventually to Mordor. It becomes a slight of hand where the battle for Minis Tirith and the attack on the gates of Mordor serve to distract the enemy from the real mission as two lone Hobbits journey into the heart of Mordor to the only place where the One Ring can be destroyed. This is not a story that can be told in fewer words. It is intricate and complex with little that could be trimmed without compromising the whole. The movie adaption really showed this in the difference between the theatrical version and the extended versions. The restored scenes add so much to the story.

Another hallmark is an intimacy with the characters. With such a length of story we spend more time with each of the characters and we get to know them even better. We journey with them through their trials and sometimes as they die. We become more emotionally invested. It serves to make these epic tales more real and personal. Carol Berg did this excellently in her debut Rai-Kirah trilogy as we follow one man, initially a slave, as he discovers his destiny. After three 170,000 word novels, he is like an old friend.

Probably the most extreme example of a truly epic tale has just come to a close with the publication of its final volume. The Wheel of Time by Robert Jordan (posthumously completed by Brandon Sanderson) spans fourteen volumes and nearly 4.5 million words. It brings up a benefit to publishing long novels. That output in other genres would yield over forty separate books, but condensing it to just fourteen books that average 300,000 words, the author takes fewer publishing slots and the reader has to buy fewer books. It also leads to a more immersive experience.

It can all so easily go wrong. Fortunately, thanks to the publishers, we have rarely seen those blunders (though they may be more common as self-publishing takes off). A few make it to print, some by very esteemed writers, and they are a cautionary tale of how one or more of the things I’ve mentioned have gone wrong. Usually it is that the scope of the story fails or that too much extraneous material remains in the published edition.

 
The best way to avoid the pitfalls is to do what most writers do and that is read, and read a lot. Knowing your genre and what the premier writers in your genre do is the best class anyone could ask for. If you want to write epic fantasy, read J.R.R. Tolkien, Terry Brooks, Stephen R. Donaldson, George R.R. Martin, Robert Jordan, Melanie Rawn, Carol Berg, and Brandon Sanderson. If you want to write space opera, read Isaac Asimov, Robert Heinlein, Arthur C. Clark, Frank Herbert, David Brin, and Jack McDevitt. After getting to know the masters, you will know how a new writer stacks up.

Guest Post: What Justifies a Larger Word Count In Speculative Fiction. And What Doesn't.

 Today's Guest Blog Post comes from author, Aaron Bradford Starr, a fellow Speculative Fiction Group member. Aaron's published short stories, paintings, and interior art in Black Gate Magazine, Black Gate Online, and Stupefying Stories. Follow him on his blog, Imaginary Friend or on Twitter. 

I was visiting with my old friend, Joyce, one summer, when the subject of word count came up. We were sitting on the veranda of her chrysanthemum plantation, after a leisurely day of beekeeping, and I happened to mention I’d recently finished my current manuscript. After a round of congratulations, she inquired as to its length, and was horrified when I answered it was 200K, give or take. Setting down her mint lemonade with trembling hands, she composed herself.

“Surely you can whittle that down, in the next draft? Eliminating about half the book should just about do it!” It is to her credit she didn’t rub her hands together in anticipation, being, as she was at the time, in the throes of a stint with flash fiction and haiku. The opportunity to assist in editing such a work as mine had her mentally sharpening her reddest pencil in anticipation.

I shook my head. “No, I think it’s about right. A little tightening, perhaps, is called for, but it’s the right length for the story it tells.”

“But think of the trees!” she exclaimed, waving to the stately oaks that stood in the distance, across the fields. “No environmentally conscious agent would ever represent such a behemoth.”

“Ah, but the speculative fiction genres tend to run longer than others,” I reminded her.

“Poppycock!” she responded, then amended herself. “Well, some authors do. But new authors must keep under 115K, or so. At least for their first novel.”

“I suppose,” I said. “But can you not think of any legitimate reasons why a novel might be allowed to run long?”

Taking up her tea once more, she leaned back into her wicker chair, considering, and we sat awhile, the only sound the wind across the fields, carrying to us the scent of flowers. “Well,” she said at last, “the setting itself might need more visual description than in other genres.”

I nodded, thinking of my lovingly crafted vistas. “Yes, yes!” I agreed. “The setting is a primary way to invite the reader into your new world. A believable, vivid setting will go a long way toward suspending the reader’s disbelief.”

“True,” Joyce said. “And once the magic or SF-stuff gets into full gear, you can always fall back on the setting. The way the world reacts to your imaginary dangers and resolutions does make it easier to support the completely impossible, I would think.”

“So you agree, then?”

“Not so fast!” she said, fixing me with the calculating gaze that has set so many authors to flight. I swallowed, taking an unsteady sip of my tea.

“What about keeping your writing tight?” she asked. “Lean and mean?”

“You can do that,” I said, thinking furiously. “I fact, my first novel, which I’ve since split up into a trilogy due to it’s very great size, had exactly this quality. The first draft was entirely too fast, for all of its length. I actually had to add in as much as I took out, and a bit more besides, in the following drafts. Speculative fiction needs to carefully control the pace. Readers must be allowed to process the new before more is piled on, and this is most easily done by exploring a bit of the familiar in between.”

Joyce nodded, mulling this over. “Yes,” she allowed. “I suppose that’s true. Sometimes, slowing down the pace a bit is necessary.” Her eyes widened in outrage. “But not with fluff!”

“No, never,” I agreed quickly. “You can do so with exploring the character’s personalities, or the setting, as we agreed before.”

“Maybe,” she said, scowling. “But I still think that seventeen syllables should be sufficient for anyone.” As someone who wrote the definitive haiku version of Lord of the Rings, I couldn’t argue her point too directly, so I tried another tack.

“But if the reader’s interest is held, nay, embraced, by a longer work, is word count actually a problem?” I asked. “Length isn’t always bloat, as we’ve agreed. Now, multiplying these considerations with complex plots, a longer work might well be necessary.”

“True,” she said. “But that isn’t license to lollygag with literary bric-a-brac! It’s still better to err on the side of brevity.”

“If an error is necessary,” I agreed, relieved at our accord.

“An error is always necessary, in fiction,” Joyce said, sipping her tea. She waved a hand at the fields before us. “With the petals of these chrysanthemums, I make the finest red pencils in the world. And where would my fortune go, if not for the endless errors of authors?”

“Where indeed?” I asked, and we clinked glasses, settling in to watch the sun set over the distant trees.