Imogen Elvis: Gossiping with Dragons

Why I Will Always Be A Pantser

2017-04-20T21:43:00.000+10:00

I have always loved pantsing my way through a novel, throwing myself headlong into the rush of creating a story without any clear idea of where I’m going or what I’m doing. I like the huge mess that pantsing leaves me with slightly less, and the fact that I need to redraft these books two or three times before I find a plot that actually makes sense even less so. Because of this, over time, I have tried to teach myself to outline more, think through my plots at least a little before I write them so that the resulting draft is not quite such a bundle of randomness and errors.

For the most part, I am doing much better since adopting a loose outlining strategy. I’ve found a way of plotting that gives me the freedom to experiment while still coming out of it with a basic story that is solid enough to work with. Well, most of the time. My most recent Camp Novel is a bit of a failure there. But overall, planning my novels just a little bit before I begin has been really helping me write better novels overall. After all, I can weave in story threads earlier, I don’t lose my way in the plot as much, and I contradict myself way less.

And yet, I will always be a panster.

Let me explain. The novel I planned for this month, I finished in just over two weeks, leaving me with a large chunk of month in which to do more writing. So I elected rather than just stopping there, to pants my way through another novel. A novel for which I had exactly no ideas. It’s a recipe that seems slated for disaster, doesn’t it? And yet I feel like the ideas that I’m pouring into this novel are better, fresher than the ones in my planned novel (though that one has very definite issues in other ways).

The thing about pantsing a novel from start to finish is that there are no limits. My mind goes crazy coming up with little bits of ideas, stringing them together in more unusual patterns than I usually do in brainstorming. Granted, the resulting mess is usually not useable, but the ideas that I come up with on the fly are fantastic. I love them. They make no sense together and I love that too. I am more creative when I’m writing than I am at any other time. It’s like the saying goes, I don’t know what I want to say until I see what I have written. How do I know what ideas will work until I’ve tried them out? Pantsing a novel is a way of generating ideas, testing things and throwing stuff together to see what sticks and what doesn’t.

And this is why I will always be a pantser, why I will always write these terrible novels by the seat of my pants with a blank slate and no limits. Because it keeps me fresh and generates new ideas that I can use in more structured works. It exercises a freedom that my brain needs sometimes to go wild and find those connections that I don’t when I’m just planning. I am a pantser at heart, and, deep down inside, I don’t think I will ever quite give that up.

As a bonus, here is the vlog I should have posted on Monday but didn’t, all about five writing quirks I have. Let me know if you’re enjoying these vlogs!

My First Draft Is A Mess That's Ok With That: A Video

2017-04-10T19:00:00.000+10:00

It’s week two of Camp NaNoWriMo, and I’ve recorded another vlog about how I’m going. I’m coming to the realisation that this draft is an absolute mess. And you know what? I’m perfectly ok with that. In the vlog, I explain why.

Also, as an extra little bonus, here’s an excerpt from my Camp NaNo Novel. It is woefully unedited and first draft-y as I haven’t touched it since I wrote it, but hopefully you find it enjoyable anyway.

The song rose.

It shivered through the air. Briar heard two men's voice singing in unison, synchronised in the song of the Tree. Briar could feel the call echoing something familiar in her blood, a song that she had heard before. But over all of that was an unmistakable thrill of magic. The people around her could feel it. Their gasps and the rubbing of their tingling skin told her everything. The song was rising, swirling, almost visible in the air such was the quiet power behind it. It spilled over the edge o the wall and raced down towards the children.

Below, the song of the army swelled. They must be feeling the power of the song facing them. There was no fear. Just music as they pushed back against the song. But the Song Catchers could not be stopped. The song rose higher and higher, louder and louder until it was beyond wahat any human could produce. It rolled down in an unstoppable wave that swept everything before it. Briar couldn't think. Couldn't draw breath. Could only watch in horror as the song swept over the army below.

And they fell.

Line after line, body after body, child after child, they fell before the power of the Song Catcher. The songs died away into silence, voice after voice pushed into silence by the Song Catchers, until at last the only sound in the air was that of the two Masters, singing the song of the Catchers, drawing the magic back, out of the children, tearing it from their bodies.

And then the screams started.

Briar's hands clamped over her ears. She wanted to close her eyes. The children screamed as their magic was taken from them. Thin, inhuman screams of pure agony as part of their very essence was taken away, ripped brutally by the Catchers. She couldn't bear it. The tears flowed freely from her eyes. They were suffering so, so much. Who could do this to another human?

And then the screams faded into silence. And the silence was worst of all.

How is your Camp NaNoWriMo going? What are you working on at the moment? Let’s chat!

Some Thoughts On Comparisons

2017-04-06T19:00:00.000+10:00

It’s Camp NaNoWriMo right now, which means that I am deep, deep into writing a new first draft. I mentioned in my bonus vlog on Mondaythat one of the things I’ve been struggling with the most so far this month is switching my brain from ninth draft mode, where things are partially polished and fairly sound structurally, to a messy, rough, plot hole ridden first draft. Now, don’t get me wrong, first drafting is absolutely still my favourite part of the writing process. But at the same time, it has been sparking quite a few thoughts about comparisons.

Have you ever read a book that blew you away with just how good it was, and then looked at your own novel only to be discouraged by how bad it is? Or read something from one of your writing friends, and then shuffled your novel under a pile of papers so no one could see the mess that you’re working on? Have you ever read your own writing and cringed at how bad it seems? I don’t know about you, but this is something I feel often.

Why does our work always compare so unfavourably to everyone else’s?

I think the first issue is familiarity. We’ve been looking at our own writing for so long, staring at it, searching out flaws, looking for problems on purpose, especially when we’re editing, until we almost hate even looking at the words. Your brain is programmed to look for the problems, the inconsistencies, the holes. We can’t see the good parts because, consciously or not, we’re searching for the things that wrong with our writing. It’s why we need to take time away between drafts, so that we can come back and see our own writing with eyes that are fresh and can see the good parts as well as the bad.

Another factor is where your book is in its writing journey. This might be your first draft, but what your writer friend is sharing could be in its fifth. Or they’ve just selected the best moments from their novels to share, revising them many times to make sure that they’re only presenting good moments. No one wants to show their novel in a bad light. It’s like watching a highlight reel of their novels, while you’re still slogging through the hours of hard work in your own. Or you’re comparing the novel you’re editing to a book that has had literally years of work put into it and dozens of eyes working on making it better. How is it fair to you, or your book to compare your first draft to someone else’s final product?

And finally, every writer is different. I personally love books with beautiful description, lyrical writing that leaps off the page in brightly coloured images, deep messages and uplifting, meandering plotlines. These aren’t the books that I write. And when I compare my books to these, mine appear unfavourably. Because it’s not fair to compare two different styles. How can you compare apples with oranges, or sparsely described, action filled novels with slower paced, musical tales wandering through thoughts and themes? Your book is beautiful, just in a different way.

My first draft compares terribly to my ninth draft. My ninth draft compares badly to many of the books that I love to read. And that’s ok. Because my first draft is only in the beginning stages. My ninth draft is written completely differently to the books I love. And I’ve been working on them both so much I can’t see where they are. Sometimes we just need to a step back and see just how good our writing can actually be.