Tag: Writing

The Process

Posted on by Ashlee Scheuerman in Thoughts, Writing

My readers should already know of the wonderful Lisa Kilian (some of you are here because of her!). From her blog, What Not to Do as a Writer, comes an entry that immediately got my brain-gears grinding and banging away in a fit of “HEY GO WRITE ABOUT THIS THING NOW”. Check her entry, then read on! Mistake #110: The Writing Pedestal

The Writing Process. It’s a big thing, isn’t it? I don’t really understand the whole “muse” business, because I have known for many years that all creation is just living, experiencing, and really thinking, which condenses down into creativity, to burst out covered in this muse-like goodness.

I also don’t comprehend routines and rituals. I change too much to feel like there is one special key to unlocking my writer self. There’s no one thing that I always want to do, there’s not a single place that I have dedicated as my “writing space”, and there isn’t a specific time of day that I work best at. If I have any ritual to writing, it’s thinking a whole lot, then writing.

I write anywhere I want, on whatever suits me at the time. Notebooks (filled two in a quest to write a novel; it’s on hold while other projects get finished, and also while I come to terms with having to copy all that writing onto my computer). Shoddy old computers which CRASH WHEN YOU SAVE. I currently write on my mini laptop, a white and mint green EeePC, using my fullsize USB keyboard (the one with the bad W key that I have learnt to press just a little firmer to get it to work).

I write in our living room, bedroom, or the back room where the cats like to chitter at doves in the garden. Sometimes I write in the car (the joys of both notebooks and miniature laptop computers). I write when people are doing things around me, or I don’t, because those things are either interesting or maddening. I write to music, and I stop to sing along, and I get hungry and go make a sandwich.

Mostly, though, I just sit and write. Or sit and look at the ceiling. Or sit and have cats come out of nowhere to lay on my lap so I have to somehow write around them. And the words come out because I’ve been thinking about writing when I’m not physically writing. More than half of creating any story is thinking about it. Then scrambling to find a scrap of paper because I thought of something awesome!

The Process is thinking, a lot, then just banging it out and seeing what can be done with it later. The Process is not caring when I’m writing something dumb, and I know it’s dumb, because I can fix it in revisions. The Process is writing in a daze when I’m half asleep, and writing in a worse daze when everything is working perfectly. The Process needs no more than myself, my thoughts, and some (in)convenient writing implements.

The Process is getting angry and giving up. The Process is starting again. The Process of writing is to write. It’s not magical, and it totally is. It’s internal, and external. It’s all the times in life when I’m not writing. It’s the collective of my thoughts, and the thoughts of others, and the madness necessary to create.

~A

How late is too late?

Posted on by Ashlee Scheuerman in Writing

We all have old, half-finished manuscripts lying around. Some of them are even a full first draft that we never finished editing. I’m currently sitting on two significantly aged stories, ones which I wrote quite a handful of years ago. Their levels of completion mean that I’m not totally open to abandoning them entirely, but time has been cruel to these two, and I can see just how damn young I was when I wrote them.

Growth as a person will give anyone a new perspective on life, and make us create new situations, new characters in our work. Expansion in knowledge means that years down the track, you start wondering, “How did I ever think this was a good idea?”, or, “How didn’t I see that plot hole when I wrote this?”. And the dreaded knowledge that the work isn’t marketable until it has had a total overhaul, potentially to the point of changing genre (you never were a sci-fi writer, after all).

When do we decide that a project has served its purpose and it is better to leave it in the fond depths of our memory? How much work is too much to revive an old story?

The way I see it, as long as you have ideas, there’s always something salvageable in a piece. Maybe not any of the words you wrote before. Maybe that entire draft has to be scrapped. But a draft isn’t the story; it’s just the things you scrabble at until you’ve carved something beautiful. If you still have passion for the story all this time later, then it’s worth it. It’s not really any more work than a new story. You already know where you went wrong the first time!

One day, I’d like to bring out the old works and make them into something amazing. With new knowledge, with greater understanding, with entirely new ideas and a whole reason to write. If you know where the story can go, and you know what the characters will do, you can remake the manuscript.

~A

Full moon darkness

Posted on by Ashlee Scheuerman in Thoughts, Writing

I notice that we get to see the moon a lot during the day around here. There is something haunting and beautiful about it sitting in the sky, the pale grey of clouds, but round and still where it waits for the planetary kind of spin that pushes it to other skies. And of course, when night falls, the brightness! How it reflects the sunlight lets the darkness become its own kind of beauty. The contrast is all it takes to change the moon from a gentle addition, to the centre of your attention.

I think that most feelings, emotions, are at their peak when something is there to contrast them. When writing horror, the scary bits need to fall inside reassuring moments. Romance comes with a helping of distrust and heartache. Dark fantasy is contrasted when there is a bright, vivid moon shining down upon it, the beautiful moments that show you just how twisted everything else really is.

Even in shorter fiction, there has to be particular contrast, so the readers, and indeed even the writer can see just how poignant the central theme is. And sometimes that theme can blend into its surroundings first, waiting for the moment of contrast to truly show how important it is.

These thoughts come to me when I feel like I’ve perhaps deviated too far from course. When the scene runs on into characters sharing love and laughter in the lead-up to a challenging moment, I stop and realise that without these moments of brightness, the dark would not seem so expansive.

~A

A multimedia booklike experience

Posted on by Ashlee Scheuerman in Thoughts, Writing

Ideally, I aim for some kind of cross-media experience to accompany my eventual book releases. I love the idea of artwork, music, and special edition items to go with my work. Pictures of the characters would be an absolute must, and maybe some action scenes or a couple of the more exciting locations drawn up, too. A website where people can download theme music for the different places and people in the stories. Pocket versions of my books where they are printed all small and super cute!

Ambitious, much?

Half of this, I could probably manage with a pile of help from my talented and creative husband (who is an illustrator and songwriter, among other things). Things like the pocket books, and including high quality art prints with sales would be a deal I would have to wrangle with my publisher. And we all know that publishers tend to have their “tried and true” method for making books, and it probably wouldn’t be seen as profitable enough to step outside the boundaries of normal publishing.

But a girl can dream. Goodness, half my profession is made of dreams and fantasy, so what’s another mad idea on top of the rest!

Since I am a big fan of videogames and cartoons/anime, as well as enjoying a good movie, I tend to think of my stories in a very visual mindset. If I had the opportunity to make a graphic novel, or an animated series from my books, I already have all the pictures in my head. To be totally honest, it would make me deliriously happy to animate some of my stories. Maybe one day I’ll put some of my other extensive hobbies on hold and get to work on that kind of project. In the meantime, I’ve still got new books to write, and they are eagerly demanding my attention. And I have nothing wrong with that!

~A

Schedules, part two

Posted on by Ashlee Scheuerman in Writing

So, I talked about using a good schedule system, one that works for you. But something I didn’t cover is missed days.

We all have missed days. Maybe we get sick, or we take a family vacation. As a writer, I can be dedicated, but I can’t drop everything just to write on a day when it’s truly inconvenient to.

To account for this in my overall scheme, every day that I write the minimum, I mark honestly. Any day which I exceed my goal, I list as a great day and congratulate myself on a job well done. But days which I miss, I leave empty and have to make up lost ground.

During my next session, I write until I hit the designated daily minimum, then mark it as completed on the missed day, until I’m back up to date. No matter how many days in a row I missed, I still have to make them up with the minimum for each day accounted for. It isn’t until I’ve covered all the lost ground that I can start adding to my “extras” total once more.

This works in two ways. The first being that when I look back over my schedule, I don’t feel bad about old lost days. I usually know when this happened (it’ll be the week full of minimum marks), but I know I did my work and made up for it. There’s no red cross through my schedule, guilting me into feeling like I failed, because I still put in the effort and got back on track. That’s something to be proud of!

Secondly, I’m always keeping up with my overall word count, because all the “extras” days still put me in front. Once I’m ahead, I’m always ahead, as long as I work through my designated minimum in the meantime. There are always good days, and there are definitely bad days. I don’t believe in self-punishment, just as much as trying to make rewards for myself doesn’t work (there’s just no value in saying to myself, “you can’t have that until you’ve completed this”).

Using my schedule this way keeps my confidence up, rewards me when I’ve genuinely worked hard, and shows the true dedication I have to keep at it. Because every day is filled, even when it’s retroactive!

~A

Schedules, part one

Posted on by Ashlee Scheuerman in Writing

There have been several occasions where I’ve written out a schedule for writing, and promptly failed to meet it. I was going about them all wrong: expecting things I cannot personally meet. That’s discouraging, disheartening, and more than anything, I resent a difficult schedule. Then I decided to use something that suits ME! So far, I’ve followed two schedules very well, and I’m working to my current one with great success.

None of my good schedules are terribly ambitious: the first was my own version of a “NaNoWriMo” dealie, where I just demanded that I wrote SOMETHING every single day for a month. That went well enough, because I was equally pleased by a day of ten words as I was by a day of over a thousand. I had met my goal.

The second schedule was a daily page-log, following in the same theme of the first but with a little more personal expectation. I drew it up on a huge sheet of paper, divided into squares like a regular calendar. At the end of each week, I had my minimum goal marked. One page per day (of approximately 250 words per page). That would give me around 1750 words every week. Just before I went to bed each night, I would record how many pages I’d written, then tally it up at the end of the week.

I liked this schedule a lot, because I was handwriting the story in a notebook, and one page was the equivalent of 15 minutes of my time. I had 15 minutes spare every day during the drive to work with my husband. Anything else written outside of that was a bonus.

This variety of scheduling was fantastic as an ego booster, too. After a while, this very simple and outrageously easy-to-meet minimum was really showing progress. Sure, it wasn’t getting amazing results in terms of word count, but every single box on my schedule had something written in it. For weeks. Then months. A whole, huge A3 size sheet of paper, filled with proof of my dedication. Whether it was “1 page”, or “13 pages”, every day had something to show.

I was able to bypass my minimum goal the first week. And in the third, fourth, and fifth weeks. And others. I stayed ahead of my target word count, and at eleven and a half weeks, where I should have been hitting 20,000 words, I was up to 30,000.

My current schedule follows the same rules. A nice, reachable minimum (though higher than the “handwriting in a notebook” minimum expectation, that’s for sure!). Tally at the end of the week. A date I can be expected to finish my story by. I like to know my limits. Over 1000 words every day isn’t something I can expect in my lifestyle. But when you realise that even when handwriting, I can get 250 words out in 15 minutes? That’s easy. That’s doable. That’s a coffee break worth of time.

~A