How to Be a Writer - Part I (Tools of the Trade)

As writers, we spend a lot of time dealing with mechanics. Punctuation, grammar, spelling, storytelling, plot, etc. We spend so much time learning the craft of being a writer, but no one ever really tells us how to be a writer. I get it, sure, if you don't have the tools, you're not going to get very far. But let's say, just for the sake of argument, that you've finished your MFA, you have a head full of ideas, and you're raring to go. So then what? I mean, writing a story is one thing, but how does one actually be a writer? What are the pitfalls of the writing lifestyle that people don't talk about? For the life of me, I don't think a single person ever said "hey, yes you can write, but do you know about...?" concerning the lifestyle of a writer? How do relationships work? What equipment do you need? Where do you write? How do you support yourself while you write? Do you have a day job? How long before a publisher offers me a suitcase full of cash and lewd promises of questionable morality?

I'm going to attempt to answer those questions. At least, I'll give you the insight that my experience has taught me. I don't pretend to be the end-all-be-all expert on all of this, but if you let me, I think maybe I can help. So let's start with Part I - What tools do you need to be a writer?

This is not going to be some esoteric discussion that ends with "all you need is imagination and gumption." Sure, those are nice, but let's start with the obvious: A computer. Laptop, desktop, iPad, Windows, Mac, Linux, it doesn't really matter what the specifics are. You just need some sort of word-processing apparatus that facilitates the recording of your story/novel/play. Before you get your shorts in a knot, let me explain. Nothing against the people who prefer to write longhand, but I have yet to meet or even see an editor or agent that accepts hand-written submissions, no matter how pretty the handwriting. I use a combination of my desktop (older 27" iMac), laptop (Macbook Air, provided by one of the universities for whom I work) and an iPad with a bluetooth keyboard, depending on where I am. None of that matters, however. Go ahead and draft on a yellow legal pad. But before you get ready to submit your stuff, you're going to have to enter it into the word processing software (or pay someone else to). Which brings me to my second point: Software.

Trust me... No one cares what you use. 

If you walk into a room full of writers and loudly ask what writing software they use, you will get as many different answers as there are people in the room. What's more, each one will extol the virtues of the software they use, and try to convince you that theirs is the OMGBEST for writing. And it's all bullshit. Look, every writing software out there does basically the same thing. Some help you keep track of plot points, others help you keep track of characters. Some are free, others are quite expensive. But the absolute truth of the matter is this: It doesn't matter. Whatever software you choose, choose it because you like it, not because some over-caffeinated lunatic told you to. Try a few. They all have trial versions, and chances are you'll find one you'll like. Me? I use good-old Microsoft Word for two reasons. First, every publisher I've come across requests manuscripts in one of three formats: .rtf (Rich Text Format), .doc (Word Document), or .docx (updated Word Document). Most word processors will have these formats listed under their "save as" menu, but I figure I'm just cutting out another step, and eliminating the chance for the formatting to be off. The second reason? Both the colleges I work for provide the Microsoft Office Suite for free to faculty and staff members, as well as students. So... Yeah. I use it because it's powerful, does what I want it to do, and I don't have to pay for it.

So what else do you need? Well, obviously, a place to write. We'll go more into the details of your writing space in a later episode of Strange Words, but suffice to say you need a place where you can sit with your thoughts and put your words down. It can be an empty room, the middle of your kitchen, or even a crowded coffee shop. What matters isn't the trappings themselves. What matters is that you are comfortable there. What matters is that the place is conducive to your creative process. Wherever that place is, don't let anyone tell you that it's wrong. A very dear friend of mine (who is incredibly well accomplished and published) writes at Starbucks. Trying to do such a thing would drive me insane, because I would keep getting distracted. But it works for him, and that's all that matters. So you need to find a place where you can gather your thoughts and lay them out.

I love office supplies...

Everything else is just window dressing and props. There are things that are useful to have, sure, but not necessary. For example, I carry around a composition book and a pen everywhere I go, even though hand-writing stuff out drives me up a wall. Why? Because I don't know when I'm going to see something that will spark an idea. I don't know when I'll need to make a note. And flipping open a notebook takes way less time than unloading my laptop, firing up the word processor, creating a new document....blah blah blah. I also use composition books to keep track of things in my books so I don't have to keep going back thirty or so pages to figure out what a certain character's middle name is (it's Irving, by the way).

There are a few things I would suggest you have, but none of it is necessary. Pens, reams of paper, stickies, a cork-board, all help make the job easier, but they're never necessary. I also suggest that every writer should have a good quality laser printer. Why? Because they last a good long time, and editing is easier on paper than it is on the screen.

Next time, we'll talk about your sacred writing space.

Until then, write on!

SAJ

Worldbuilding: Who is particularly bad at it?

I go on and on about world building. It's kind of annoying, really, and I know it, but if a world isn't properly constructed, I get yanked out of the story. I know I should just sit back and enjoy the show/book/movie/whatever, but I just can't.  See, that's one of the drawbacks to being a writer. Not only are you hyper-cricical of your own work, you notice when others aren't doing their job. Which brings me to one of my favorite television series:  Star Trek: The Next Generation. Now, before anyone goes powering phasers to "obliterate" and launching photon torpedoes, let me restate:  I LOVE ST:TNG. I feel Lt. Commander Data is one of the greatest characters ever written, and I'm not just saying that because my wife loves the guy. However, as a writer, there are lots of things about the show that makes me cringe, and it all comes down to proper world building.  So, crew of the Enterprise, I've judged you to be guilty of poor world building. You will confine yourselves to quarters until evidence has been given.

My prisoners...

Ignoring for a moment the whole Deus Ex Machina that is the "Universal Translator" (a gizmo that can translate any language into English for whomever might be listening....) there is still much for which the crew needs to answer.  For example:  With a universe as vast as the one they traverse, how, exactly, does one just arbitrarily use "ENGLISH" as the default? I mean, come on... There are literarily a billion stars out there, and millions of species each with their own languages. But even if there weren't, there are also more languages than just "ENGLISH"on Earth, so who picked it?  And why? Why not French? Or Russian? Or Spanish for that matter?

Donald Trump's America...

Here are a few other things that take me out of the moment when enjoying ST:TNG:

• Sound doesn't travel in space... So why does the Enterprise (and other ships) whoosh along? How do we hear the phasers fire? 
• Why do other alien species, with whom the Federation has had no previous contact, refer to their planets as Planet-name-NUMBER? How would they know what we call it? If they've never been off planet or their world is primitive, how would they know how many others of their planet be? It makes no sense to call this world "Earth 6" because if we did, we'd have to worry about what happened to Earth's 1-5. 
• Ever notice how in almost every episode, someone has to make some sort of non-standard modifications to the warp-coils/engine/computer/dish array or one of a thousand other little issues on the ship?  Is any of it standard configured anymore? It's a miracle the Enterprise still flies with all the psychopathic rigging that Geordi LaForge has done on her. 
• Okay, I'll go with the Holodeck and the Replicators, but why not, y'know, actually use them to their full potential? Whenever someone says "if only we had..." on this show, I roll my eyes. Why don't you just describe it to the all-powerful Computer (Long may Majel Baret reign, first lady of nerds) and make one? 
• And, for that matter, with all the insanity that has come from having a Holodeck onboard, wouldn't a competent captain taken the damned thing offline by now? 
• In space, everything moves in three dimensions, and there's no gravity... So why are all the other ships we see right-side-up? How does all the tech manage to match up? Why have we not yet met up with another "Federation of Planets"-style group? 
• What are the odds that EVERY species that the Enterprise comes in contact with are bipedal with two eyes up front and compatible anatomy (I'm looking at you, RIKER)?

Pictured:  Kirk's Girlfriend

There are dozens of other examples as to why the world building in ST:TNG could've used some tweaking. From how certain races who were portrayed as very simian in nature ever got to the technological state where space travel was possible, to the way the captain repeated slaps around the Prime Directive, it's infuriating. 

So how does this apply to your writing? World-building, simply put, means you must first ask why. Why is her skin green? Why is the Holodeck left online? Why is the planet called Melos 4 BY ITS OWN INHABITANTS? And if you can't answer the question of "why," you've got some more thinking to do. 

Crew of the Enterprise, evidence has been presented... How do you plead?

Thought so.

As I suspected.  Guilty as charged. Look, I love ST:TNG. I love it for the positive message it tries to send, and because it's brain candy.  But, as a writer, there are things it does that I just can't abide, and poor world building is one of them. So don't hate ST:TNG, but learn from it. Ask the simple question with every point of your world:  Why? Your writing will be better for it.

Until next time...

SAJ

But that really happened!

When my novel City of Demons came out, there was a scene in particular that pulled people out of the story because it was just too unbelievable.  The scene in question was one in which one of the lead characters discussed learning martial arts from a legit grandmaster who happened to teach at the college she attended. Magic murder, they can deal with.  But learning a devastating fighting style in a college?  Too much. Yes, in a book where a killer can crush a person without touching him and a cop can feel the last few seconds of a dead person's life by touching his corpse, the moment that was too big of a stretch was one that actually happened to me.

See, when I went to college, I signed up for a karate course. I thought "it's a college karate course...how hard could it be?" Then I met this guy.

...

That's Dann Baker, legit Grandmaster in Kajukenbo. And one of the best martial arts instructors on the planet.

We've all been there.  Writers are told every day to use real life experiences as fodder for their stories.   Write what you know, and know what you write! And yet, there are certain experiences that, if we use them, we're told they're too unbelievable. Your story may contain magic, demons, monsters, and superheroes, but coincidental things that really happened to you are considered too unbelievable to go in a book of fiction. It's enough to drive you mad.

Don't call me crazy...

It's happened in other situations too.  Students of mine have replied with passionate anger when I tell them that a scene in their thesis is unbelievable. "But it really happened that way!" they scream. "You just don't know what you're talking about!" Fair enough. You're right, I've not had that particular experience that seems to defy logic or physics. The coincidental continuum seems to have collapsed on a convergence conveniently. And it's still unbelievable. "But here's proof!" they shout. They wave photos, articles, protestations and proclamations all day long. And, in the end, I concede, yes, it happened the way you said it did. 

But here's the problem:  If I thought it was unbelievable, it's likely that everyone else who reads it will find it equally hard to believe. And what are you going to do? Run around and wave proof at everyone who has purchased your book?  Accompany your manuscript to the acquisition editor and prove your story to him? Take out a full 60-second ad during Superbowl halftime to explain that this scene in your book really happened that way and that's how you know it could happen? No... Probably not. What's more likely to happen is this:  You send your manuscript out, your agent or editor reads the scene, snorts derisively, and tosses your legit memory into the trashcan. Why? Because it came off as too unbelievable. 

Pictured:  You.

The following are a list of unbelievable things that I've actually done or have witnessed:

• Honked a live squirrel's tail.
• Tailed a 9' Texas Black rat snake
• Skidded on a wet road and done two complete 180-degree turns, banging my car on the rail both times, and gotten away with no discernible damage
• A person backflipped off a second-story balcony to impress a girl - Survived
• A person survived having a full-sized telephone pole hit him in the head
• Had an 800lb roll of plastic fall on me. Didn't die
• Shot a near perfect round my first time shooting a pistol
• Studied with a real grandmaster that I met at college
• Rescued a 1-week old deer and let it sleep overnight in my bathroom
• Rescued an equally young possum

"How dare you, sir?!?"

I have proof of every one of those items, yet I know that if I put them in a novel, someone would cry bullshit on it because, while people can suspend disbelief in the fantastic, their belief in the mundane needs to stay constant. In turning the world inside out and molding it to our peculiar vision, we need to make sure that we give the reader a foothold. A talking squirrel, sure. Sneaking up behind a normal squirrel and honking his tail?  Bullshit. 

The point I'm trying to make here is simple:  If it comes across as too much of a coincidence to one reader, it might do so to the rest of them. I'm not saying you can't include unbelievable life stories in your fiction.  What I'm saying is to be careful. "But it really happened" isn't a get-out-of-jail-free card. It's a tantrum. It's a child's argument. You will never get the chance to explain that it really happened or how to an agent, editor, or to your audience. Once you've lost their interest, you've lost them. So make the best of it. 

Until next time, write on!

SAJ

Writing as Solace

Ever get into a group of creative people and just listen?  I mean, really listen?  If you go to a place where creative types hang out (and I'm not talking about Starbucks...Nothing against them, but this is different) and actually engage your ears, you learn quite a bit about creative types. It doesn't matter whether their medium is paint, cloth, the stage or words, there are common traits amongst them all.  In a sense, they're all share one commonality that binds them together and allows them to write, paint,  act, or whatever. 

They're damaged. 

In some way, we all are.  In some way, large or small, we have issues.  That doesn't mean every artist has been raped or were abused children or were into self-harm or whatever.  It doesn't mean we're all alcoholics or drug users.  It just means that, somewhere in our past, something happened that left a lasting impression.  It might've been a lot of things.  It might've been just one.  This is not a condemnation, just an observation. If you doubt me, look at every famous creative person of which you know.  Look at all the great painters.  Look at all the greatest writers.  Moreover, look at yourself. 

The cracks are in you, not the glass...

Where do you draw from?  If, like me, you write horror, from what part of your psyche or soul do you pull the darkness, the blood, the tears, the pain?  What is the source of all the terrible things that flow out of your brain and into your fingers so you can inflict them upon the world?  What is it that drives you to be creative? 

I'm not a psychologist, and the point of this entry isn't to label every creative person as needing intensive therapy, though many of us do.  Most of us have learned coping mechanisms or have "gotten over it," whatever "it" was.  The point is this:

Use your art. 

I ran into a guy at a convention a while ago who wanted to be a writer.  He wrote for a while, but quite after a relatively short time.  When I asked him why, he said he was too depressed to write, too broken to create.  It struck a chord with me.  I asked him his genre, to which he replied horror.  We talked for a bit, then I asked him the big question:  "Why aren't you pouring those emotions into your work?  Why aren't you using that creative process as an outlet for your pain?"  He looked at me like I was crazy, which, admittedly, I'm used to.  

I can't imagine why...

Let me explain. 

Art is a world in which you, the artist, are God.  The world works the way you want it to, for the most part.  I mean, we still have to follow rules of silly things like physics (not always, but that's for another article), but for the most part, what we say goes.  We can take things like, say, an abusive relationship, and amplify it into a creature or metaphor where we can throw that pain on the page and kill it away.  We can make that pain eat, make it kill, make it fight, and make it die.  A painter can have an outpouring of emotion on the canvas through bold colors and long strokes of the brush.  Writers can solve all their personal issues in a world they create.  Whether that problem is a traumatic childhood, the death of a loved one, overcoming addiction, or deep depression, your art can help you.  

And not just by killing the metaphorical beast on the page.  For me, to put the pain I go through on the page is a form of catharsis.  It's a reassignment of the pain from me to the reader, who will be done with it when the book is closed.  I'm able to get the hurt off my chest, little by little, dispersed through four hundred or so pages.  So when someone says to me they are in too much pain to write, I say to them to use it.  I know.  I've been there.  I've been defeated and broken before.  

Pictured:  So done with everything...

It's not secret that, in 2013, I lost my wife of twenty years to cancer.  What may or may not be common knowledge is that, for the two years she fought, I didn't write.  Not a single word.  I was busy.  I wanted to care for her and, frankly, there was no creative muse left for me.  My muse lay in a bed while cancer took her away from me.   When she passed away, I was a broken man.  I didn't care anymore about writing, about the program for whom I work, or for my own life for that matter.  Nothing mattered to me.  I spiraled into a very deep depression.  Then I met someone who made me want to write again.  She inspired me.

But the pain still lingered, and I suspect it always will. 

Here's the point, though.  I started working again.  I started writing again.  I pushed myself to turn on my computer, pull up a blank file, and pour all those emotions into characters and situations and monsters and mayhem and symbolism and rage and... and...  

And something curious happened.  I felt better. 

Found my tail...

Characters died, others wept, and my emotions were thrown on the page, raw and bare, for the world to read.  I can't tell you how many times I caught myself in tears as I typed away, not even aware I was crying.  My characters went through loss and pain, and I didn't feel so alone anymore.  I pushed everything I felt out onto the page and it felt like a deep breath released.  And when I emerged from my writing room, I felt alive again.  I felt energized.  I felt like me. 

So this is the advice I wish to convey:  Use your art.  Truly creative people are a rare breed, and we can use the pain, the joy, the anger, the rapture in our lives to drive or work.  But more important in this case, we can use our work to soothe our souls.  We can use our art to give ourselves peace. 

One other thing you'll notice if you ever get the opportunity to sit and listen to creative types:  The crazier the work, the nicer we are.  Some of my favorite people in the world write some of the most demented stories imaginable.  People like Tim Waggoner, Gary Braunbeck, Mike Arnzen, Jack Ketchum... People read our work and assume we're terrifying individuals.  But I can tell you from personal experience that every person mentioned here are the nicest individuals you'd ever want to meet.  Of course they are.  All their demons are trapped in words on pages.  

Chairs

While mentoring young writers, I often come across similar issues.  One of my favorites is when the writer in question has a brilliant imagination, but clearly hasn't thought things through enough.  I teach a module called "Evolution of the Species" in which we discuss this type of issue, but here' i'd like to focus on a small problem that turned huge pretty quick as an illustration. 

For the purposes of this exercise, let's assume you're a writer.  

Your genre is fantasy (or "high fantasy").  You've created a race of people who have wings.  You have a gift of description that leaves your readers breathless with the beautiful images of purple feathers and soft collars of down.  In fact, this race is so ancient that you have no real reason to create a complete backstory for them because they "have always been."

Submitted without comment...

Then one sits in a chair. 

Now, for a moment, lets ignore all the other issues this world has, such as your winged people living in houses.  Let's just focus on that one detail for a moment. 

In your home, you have chairs.  No, really.  Don't believe me?  Go look.  I'll wait.  See?  Told you.  Now, in your description of these chairs, you go on and on about highly decorated ornate backs of wood and employ your gift of descriptive imagery to its full extent.  The chairs in your world are beautiful and realistic to all the readers.  

Pictured:  Your character's chair.

They're also wrong.  Here's why. 

Follow my thought process here.  Intelligent species first begin designing object to use out of utilitarian need.  We design things that fit our bodies, and if it doesn't, then why on any world would we create them?  Do you see the problem yet?  Okay... Here it is:  If your character, which you describe as the size of a roughly good sized human, has wings large enough to bear him aloft in accordance with the laws of physics, he could not physically sit in a chair because he would break his wings.

"Dammit!  This is why we can't have nice things!"

The same thing applies to every aspect of this new world in which the dominant species has a twelve-foot wing span.  So now it becomes your job as a writer to build your world backward, so you can see what would've been built how, and why.  A species with a twelve-foot wing span would not, for example ever build anything that would necessitate the crushing of one's own wings.  In fact, if you take into account physical limitations, this particular species would, likely, have invented the bar stool long before it ever invented something as obviously meant for torture as a "chair."

See?  No backs, no wing crushings.

Now apply this to other areas.  For example, a "bedroom."  What's the first thing you like to do when you wake up in the morning?  Stretch, right?  Now take a good look at your bedroom.  Hard walls, low ceilings, etc.  If you had a twelve-foot wingspan, would you ever be caught inside something like that?  Chances are, no.  Chances are, it would be torturous for you.  Small windows, roads, vehicles... None of it would even exist in a world where the dominant species had wings.  Hell, roads might not even exist. 

The point is this:  You need to think it through.  Build your world from the bottom up with the dominant species in mind.  There's a brilliant joke that the late great Douglas Adams wrote in The Hitchiker's Guide to the Galaxy which involves a multi-limbed creature that was unique in the universe in that it invented underarm deodorant before it discovered the wheel.  Necessity.  It's why we create things.  Your species would do the same. 

When you build a world, start with your species.  Then ask yourself a series of questions:

• What are its needs?
• What are its limitations?
• How are they like me?
• How are they dissimilar?

Make good choices for your characters and make your world more believable.  I don't mean make your readers think the world is real, but at least make them wonder at the possibility.  Otherwise, you have creatures who are doing incredibly uncomfortable things for their anatomy.  Like sitting in chairs.