lagilman | Entries tagged with writerbrain

I woke up this morning with two things burning like coal-embers in my brain.

1. a political filk to the tune of Tears for Fears' "Shout."

2. April's Patreon rant, which is about the myth of writer neurosis.

No wonder I'm so often tired when I wake up. My fucking brain doesn't know how to turn off without chemical aids.

Crossposts: http://suricattus.livejournal.com/1995000.html

So, over on Tumblr there was mild astonishment that fic writers like getting commentary/feedback on their work. And I laughed.

Because, writers, period. Fic writers, pro writers… we want you to grab hands into the guts of the story and pry them apart because you resonated with something there and you want to talk about it until you go hoarse and your fingers fall off from typing.

(we might not have intended what you’re responding to, but knowing that you responded? Like puppies and kittens and chocolate and warm fuzzy socks.)

Me, listening to my iPod on the way to the side gig:

...Now I been out in the desert, just doin' my time
Searchin' through the dust, lookin' for a sign
If there's a light up ahead well brother I don't know
But I got this fever burnin' in my soul
So let's take the good times as they go
And I'll meet you further on up the road."*

And my brain says “there.”

Me: “what?”

“That’s the song that’s the base of that story.”

“What story?”

“The story of how the devil claimed the Territory.”

“Oh. That story. We weren’t going to write that story for a while yet. If ever.”

“Surprise!”

“There’s like, two novels and a novella and a short story in queue ahead of it.”

“But Shiny!”

*sighs* “I guess I could write it as a year-end story-present to readers....”

“Um yeah. It’s a novel.”

“oh, FUCK YOU, brain.”

*"Further on Up The Road," B. Springsteen

Original opening line of Book 2: "They’d left nothing alive.“

After an entire day of word-wrangling, the new opening line:

"Isobel had been riding for three days, two to her destination and then a turnaround, when she found the bodies."

Yeah, that works. But dogdamn it, it took me HOURS and BRAIN BLOOD (and at least one walk around the neighborhood) to get the opening pages to finally do what I wanted them to do.

On the plus side, it should get easier today.

Should.

Right?

Except we had a local market fail: they have semi-sweet chocolate-covered graham crackers, but no dark chocolate-covered graham crackers. How am I supposed to work under these conditions?!

On Monday I realized I'd written myself down the wrong path. Not far, maybe a thousands words or so, but I was coming off the high of an amazing scene, and I let the lizard brain jump to the next amazing thing and it wasn't until several pages later that I thought - no. This doesn't work, this won't lead us to where we need to be.

So I stopped, and put it aside, let the high fade so I could look at the two scenes with a clearer eye.

Tuesday, I threw many of those words out, and tried to find the right path. It wasn't happy-making, but my gut is never wrong when it says "pull over, you took the wrong turn."

Today, I had lunch with a fellow writer, wherein we talked about the fact that our WiPs are similar in tone, style, and approach, and determined that yes, there is a term for that sort of book, and a history, and even someone we can sort of flail at as a "founder" (and there may be more of that later, as things gel). And then I went off, fully intending to tear apart the first hundred or so pages of the WiP to see where I'd gone wrong, and instead found myself tearing apart the existing outline for the second half of the book (for the third time) and...

huh. Stuff fell out of my brain and into the story, and suddenly everything I've done up to now makes sense, and the reason I'd stumbled so hard on Monday was to lead to this...

(not seen in photos: 6x9 notecards and post-its)

Typing is fine, but for serious replotting and rejiggering, you need paper and multicolored pens. So now, instead of a blank wall, a stubbed toe, and only a vague idea of what's on the other side, I have actual blueprints, and a tool kit. And a stubbed toe.

If there's a lesson here it's two-fold. 1) if it feels wrong, it probably is. 2) if you don't panic, don't try to force things, the same gut instinct that told you it was wrong will give you the tools to figure out what's right.

And, as my twinling pointed out, this is exactly what happened with SILVER ON THE ROAD, in exactly the same spot. So I guess I know what to look forward to (hah) in book 3?

But really, it can all be summed up thus:

The squalling of "oh, fantasy isn't about REAL issues or proper use of metaphors" we're seeing once again from critics and writers who should know better by now ignores the fact that ALL good fiction invokes moral and psychological themes - and emotional themes, too. And fantasy, in particular, excels at that precisely because it frames it outside our daily realities.

In the immortal words of Ursula K. "National Book Fellowship Medalist for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters" Le Guin: "Fantasy is probably the oldest literary device for talking about reality."

Deal with it, litsnobs. And deal with it, Mr. Ishiguro.

Among and amid all the various frustrations and tensions of life, I now am being asked to compile a blurbage wishlist for SILVER ON THE ROAD.

And I am hit with a massive sense of "who am I to ask these amazing and talented people to read my piece of shite work?"

(Knowing that this is part and parcel of writing and etc and if I hadn't been ambitious with this book I would't feel so nervous, etc and odds are good not everyone who tells me the book's really good is lying, etc.... none of that helps, nope.)

The original outline for TDW#2 opens with Izzy on her own, her companions meeting up with her later. Story-wise, this makes absolute sense, and would tie in with how I left things at the end of SILVER ON THE ROAD.

But.

But. Is that really a good move, story-wise? Wouldn't it make more sense, having found companions, that at this stage in her life she'd cleave to them? (which would also tie in with how I left things at the end of SILVER ON THE ROAD). And maybe the NEXT book, open on her own?

I'm dithering. And until I decide, I can't move forward. Which is making me all sorts of cranky.

And how we open determines much of how we go on, so I can't half-ass it with the idea of revising, later (it may come to that, but I can't start with that mindset).

argh.

Feedback, from a) people who read SILVER and b) anyone who feels comfortable commenting blind?

So yeah, the first line of The Devil's West #2 came to me in the shower this morning.

Never mind that I'm not scheduled to START it until September. Never mind that I have two novellas and a short story to finish before then.

Damn it, children....

After spending a year creating a new world and new characters for SILVER ON THE ROAD, returning to Sylvan investigations, and the world of the Cosa Nostradamus is kind of... interesting, in a shake-up-the-brain way. Because none of you have met Isobel, Matthew or Farron yet. None of you have encountered the boss, or Calls Thunder, or Graciendo - or Flatfoot, bless his pointy little head. They're still entirely mine. And that's nice, but it's also...incomplete.

But coming back to writing Danny and Ellen (and Wren, Sergei, and Pietr, yes, shhh) is less creating than catching up. Because they've already been out in the world. People have reacted to them, claimed them. And so now I'm seeing them not only as my creations, but yours, too. Because writer->character->reader is a chemical reaction. It's alchemy.

You can't remove the author from the work - we created it, we shaped it, we pressed it onto the page. But you can't remove the reader, either. Not once they've gotten their fingerprints all over it. Because that's when a book really lives - when it doesn't belong to just one person any more.

And now you kind of understand, maybe (and so do I) why every new book's release is such a traumatic moment. Because we're waiting for that alchemy to happen.

(of course, sometimes you're going for gold and you get silver. But sometimes you get platinum. Or gold-pressed latinum)

So I rarely (never) have playlists (or even listen to music) when I'm writing a novel. For short fiction, though? Almost always. I don't think it through - I rummage in the bin and pull out whatever feels right, and then try to figure out what those choices are telling me about where I'm going to go.

Anyone want to hazard a guess, here?

playlist

The book I'm working on now is studded with small details - things that may or may not reflect back into the reader, and will probably be overlooked or ignored by most, but were, yes, placed there deliberately, the way a garden architect chooses what trellis to climb each rose on. I do this sort of thing all the time in my short fiction, but never so consciously in a longer piece

(aside: and that just made me realize why there's been no short fiction written this year: this book is scratching both my itches. Huh.)

But whenever I think I might be too subtle in a reference, or layering things too deeply for anyone save me to notice, I go back to this quote in the Black Gates review of HEART OF FIRE:

"Gilman’s fairyland bears a remarkable resemblance to the chilling otherworld of C.L. Moore’s great pulp sword and sorcery classic story 'Black God’s Kiss.'”

And then I think, "okay, odds are good that SOMEONE other than me will see it, and that makes it worth doing.

And if you've never read "Black God's Kiss," then I highly recommend it to you. I'm not much of the "you MUST read the classics" school - some classics are best respected at a distance - but this one, yeah. I did not realize how much C.L. Moore had influenced my own writing until I went back and reread her a few years ago. It's like seeing a picture of a distant relative, and recognizing the vaguely familiar frame of the eyes, or the fold of an ear...

(my copy is part of JIREL OF JOIRY, published by Ace back in 1977. There is not a soul I love enough to loan this book out to. If you want to read it, you have to come here and sit on the sofa and read it where I can keep an eye on you.)

I woke up yesterday morning thinking "the bit in the outline is no longer the bit that should happen." Frustration occurred. And I wrote about a hundred words of a new bit, and then stared at the screen and thought "well, what do I do with that, then?"

And then I was distracted by a Chore that suddenly became Urgent, and a summons to lunch with the parents (also so I could play Parental Tech Support) and various other things that resulted in a day of being Helpful to Other People. Which, by the way, is seriously tiring. But I didn't bite anyone.

Which meant that the Bit was running in the background all day, not being stared or poked at. What some other people might call "not working," but we know better, yes. So when I finally got home, I wrote a few hundred more words, and thought "okay, I think I know where this is going."

And then I went to bed. Because sometimes the best thing you can do with a think is sleep on it.

And so this morning, I have a Bit-Think, and notes on the Think, and a fresh pot of coffee, and everything else gets put on the back burner until the New Bit is properly fitted and twisted. So the plan for today is AIC, with an extra helping of coffee.

Meanwhile, the morning has that odd clear light you get when the sun's only just hidden by clouds & it hasn't decided to rain, yet. Melancholy pretty. The weather co-operates: when the rain does begin (and it will), I'll be glad I was out and about yesterday, and in and focused today.

This was originally a friends-locked post, then I decided what the hell...

I've done a lot of research and worldbuilding, to get the tone of the WiP right. I know, for example, that there's a way to shape bark into a crude tray, so you're not trying to balance your meal on your knees, around a campfire. And that would be a nice little detail, the kind of color that an epic fantasy novel seems to call out for, the kind of detail that readers of same seem to enjoy. And it would be easy - enjoyable, even - to slip that sort of detail into the book. To detail the meals, the way they travel, sleep, fight, cook, until it's almost as though you're watching, rather than reading.

And that would be good, and satisfying, and fun.

But... the underlying tone of this book has always been more sparse, broad strokes of daily life, with the details focused elsewhere, allowing the reader to assume and presume, rather than spelling it out. To make the reader dig for the meat, a little more. And I know...I know that this could hurt the book. The readers who will come to it, thinking "oh, epic fantasy with horses and magic n' shit" and then discover that the tone is...not that?

I could do the traditional thing. I could do that and nobody would think twice about it, because it would be expected, what the readership prefers. And the book would probably please more people/sell better. But...

It would change the book.

To clarify off the comments: if I thought this would be a negative change, it wouldn't even be under consideration. The fact that some of you seem to think I would...huh.

Change isn't bad. Traditional isn't bad. It's just a different journey to the same destination.

All too often, the external world and whatever you're working on will come together in a massive oh-scuse-me-spilled-coffee moment.

This morning, discussing Jan Brewer's veto of the pro-discrimination bill (Jan, it should NOT have taken you that many meetings to figure it out), I said "II've found that people who hate viciously often are quite stupid (if not ignorant). They fixate on one idea and can never quite get past that..."

And then my eyes opened far wider than they ever should before that first cup of coffee, and I scurried off to make notes on a scene that hadn't quite gelled before.

Be nice to your lizard brain. It's working even when the mammal brain is sound asleep.

Saturday, I worked. Actually, Friday night through Saturday night, I worked. Thankfully, I had companionship in the wordwar room, so felt less like a Total Loser Without A Social Life and more like a dedicated professional working on a project I love. Also, there was wine. And episodes of Eureka (which I am binge-watching. Again. Thank you, Netflix).

Sunday, I was Away From Keyboard, doing sundry gadding about, including reclaiming my sister from the international arrivals terminal at Newark Airport, and hauling her back to the city.

And I've reached the point in this book where taking a day off gives me actual anxiety. Because no reason at all - I know where the scene is going, I am pretty confident it's no more or less ~~fucked~~ brilliant than it was yesterday, and I know that tomorrow morning I'll be back in the chair.

But. But.

This is why having a writer in your life is so difficult. Because even when we're with you, a part of us...isn't.

Sorry.

What did you all get up to?

For newcomers: the wordwar room is an online co-writing session, wherein convivial peer pressure (in 30 and 60 minute 'wars') makes the words happen. Also the griping, whinging, and idea-testing. The room runs 24/7, with members across the globe. Any serious-about-it writer is welcome to join us.

-------------------
Ideas are easy. Execution is where you make it your own. Or you make your own execution.

"When lacking alertness, substitute deadline panic." <-- my motto

You Might Be A Writer If: positive reader feedback on the WiP makes you feel MORE paranoid, because clearly they're missing something!

Proof-of-work today:

The blood hit the salt and spread, one single drop staining the entire line dark red.

(yeah, I really like that line. Especially in context.)

Over on the Formal Blog (writer. editor. tired person), I'm talking about the journey of 2013.

Normally, that's about as close as I'll come to a retrospective of the year, but 2013 really does need more lookback than that*.

This was the year that started with Massive Change in December, and, well, ended with Massive Change to come. "I'm terrified, but I'm not afraid" was the right year-motto to choose, because every step was taken not so much in confidence but anticipation, often quaking in my boots.

It's not coincidence that 2013 was also the year I joined a GISHWHES team, and got so far out of my comfort zone (often laughing hysterically all the way) that I couldn't even see the zone any more.

Other than that, it was a year like so many since I began my second life: filled with new adventures, new friends (and meeting friends in person for the first time, waving to Thirza, Mikaela, and others), and yes, a new kitten (all together now: "damn it, Cas!")

And those we let go of in the year are not lost, but merely somewhere else, in some other form.

And 2014? Those steps have led me to a new destination. Which is why my motto for 2014 is Fuck that Noise.

Because doubts and fears - our own or others - can't be avoided. But I don't have to let that noise in.

*I will probably be doing a "what I published" post too, just to remind myself even if nobody else reads it

Beta reader, given the first half of "Doghouse" to, well, beta: *readsreadsreadsdamnpatronsneedtobuggeroffsoIcanread*

Me: oh, she's liking it it must not suck too badly!

3 seconds later: she must not be reading it closely enough.

Just as no mother can see the ill of her child, no writer can see the good in theirs....

Regardless, we progress. At some point in the next few days, I will have a submission-ready manuscript will go on to my editor, who will then tell me succinctly and in detail (I hope) what's broken. And then the cycle beings again. It's a good cycle: I take comfort in it.

And then I can get to the laundry list of Shit I Should Have Done Already.....

This week I've been head-down on the final push to get GIN & TONIC #3 into submission draft shape (aka "where I don't flinch at the thought of my editor reading it and telling me what STILL needs to be fixed").

The problem with reading your draft out loud: by the time I get to a certain point in the manuscript, all I have left is a squeak. The brain may be able to go on, but the voice is throwing in the towel.... So it doesn't all get done in a day. Or even two.

Last night's dream involved foreign travel, unexpected and quite beautiful snowfall, photographs of same, and running into a friend/fellow writer on the steps of the piazza of an old stone monastery that had been turned into a cafe...

Yeah, I don't know either. My brain, man. It needed a break?

Other than that, I got nothing. I'm holed up in the meerkat's den, revising and drinking too much diet Coke (allowed only on road trips and revision trips), having pizza slid under the door, and leaving only to go for the daily miles, so I don't end this round with less muscle tone than I started it....

Meanwhile, FIXED (Gin & Tonic #2) will be out in a few weeks. I have a Thing Planned, if I can finish this revision in time to get it in motion....

Originally published at Writer. Editor. Tired Person.

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Laura Anne Gilman

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September 2018

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Where Personal and Professional Life Collide...

My life in 8 words: Organized chaos, by preference. Exhausting, but never boring

Entries tagged with writerbrain

Welcome to My Brain, Part Whateverish...

oh god yes throw us into that briar...

That’s actually pretty much how it goes…

Reason #toodamnmany why writers drink...

How it goes (how it rolls)

I had a thing to say...

meep and meh

Stressing over the start

oh brain...really?

thinky thoughts

This break in the novel is sponsored by short fiction....

Writerbrain and writer-recommendations

sometimes you go forward sideways, with the prevailing winds

hard choices...

Return of Writerbrain 101

State of the Meerkat, Weekend Edition

Weekend Wisdom (?) from the Wordwar Room...

2013 and 2014

oh hai, have you MET me?

State of the Meerkat, revision edition