An Ode to Scrivener

If I were asked which tool I find most important for writing, my answer would be my laptop. Duh, right? But my second most important tool, the one that makes it possible for me to happily plan, outline, draft, and revise, isn't such a duh.

It's Scrivener, a word processing program from Literature and Latte.

Scrivener is for writing, first and foremost, but it's also a management system for research, notes, and drafts. Like many people, I used to make notes and outline on paper or on my computer and then type my pages and do my editing in Microsoft Word.

Now my writing process has changed. I do all of my drafting in Scrivener, and then I export my work to Word.

Scrivener has virtual notecards, so the first thing I do when I outline a new story is to enter a brief description of each scene. Here's a screenshot of the notecards for my current novel:

From this screen, I can move the cards around and check out the flow of the novel before I start writing a word.

Then comes the writing. Scrivener lets you break down the draft into bite-size chunks or scenes, which works fantastically well for me. Each scene has its own notecard (visible on the right side in the drafting view), and each scene can be grouped into a chapter folder.

I find this chunk-by-chunk method a great deterrent to writer's block. Knowing I'm sitting down to write a finite scene is so much easier than trying to face endless blank pages.

Scrivener is also great for editing. Before, I would save each new draft with a name like "LongTimers v3.28." I ended up with dozens of files and the job of remembering which one had that descriptive paragraph I cut but wanted to put back. But Scrivener has this awesome feature called snapshots. When the little camera button at the bottom right of the screen is pressed, it saves a draft that's linked to that scene. I can switch to other incarnations of the scene easily from the same page.

The program also has folders and files set up for notes and research, which is fantastic for speculative fiction writers. I have all of my character and worldbuilding notes organized in one place--alternate timelines, character bios and backstories, continuity notes, and science notes. I even have a file of ideas for possible future books.

My Notes section of the current novel. I've got a lot of stuff in here!

There are tons of features I haven't mentioned (the ability to set word count targets for daily writing, outline view, flags and markers that can be used to indicate character arcs or multiple POVs, to name a few).

But in the interests of space saving, I'll close with this: Scrivener is only $45, it's available for both Mac and PC, and there's a free 30-day trial offered on the Literature and Latte website. I don't have any affiliation with the site, but I'm a very satisfied user. Try it. I have a feeling you'll like it.

Things I Learned in Improv Class, Volume 4: Getting Into Character

What's improv comedy and why the heck am I writing about it? Check out the intro of Volume 1 and Volume 2.

TODAY'S LESSON: Getting into character

Before an improviser steps on stage, they make a decision about what character they will play. This can manifest itself in something obvious like an accent, or something more subtle, such as a shift in the way they walk, a tiny tick in their right hand, or a slight change in their breathing. 

The simple choices the actor makes about their character will dictate how the scene moves forward, and how their character will react to their partner's character.

Learning how to create a character: The walking game

Everybody leads with a different part of their body when they walk.  Don't believe me?  Sit on a park bench for a while and watch people walk by. You'll notice that very few people walk perfectly erect - they typically lead with one part of their body, and it varies from person to person.

Shifting the leading part of your body is a very simple way to make a physical transformation into a new character. 

That's me, getting into character during a rehearsal.

To practice, start by walking around the room. Once you're comfortable, shift your weight so that you are leading with your head.  You can do this either with a slight shift forward or an extreme shift forward, depending on how extreme you want your character to be.

Walk around like this for a while. How does it feel? 

Ask yourself the following questions:

1. What kind of person might walk like this?
2. Are they male or female?
3. What might their name be?
4. What kind of day do you think they are having?
5. How old are they?
6. Are they married? Single? Are they happy about this fact?
7. What do they do for a living?

Now try shifting your weight so that you are leading with your knees. How does walking like this feel different from leading with your head? Ask yourself the same questions as above. My guess is you will come up with very different answers.

Keep shifting your weight to different parts of your body - you nose, your chest, your shoulders, your toes, your hips.  Alter the extremity. Can you see how a slight change in the way you walk can create an entirely new character?

so what's this got to do with writing?

Whether it's a character on stage or a character in a book, they are made up of more than the words they say. How they feel and what they think affects everything they do, and using physicality is a simple way to demonstrate emotion and other character traits.  It's also an easy trick to help you avoid 'show versus tell' pitfalls.

How might a brave person walk? A shy person? An angry person? 

Instead of the dialogue tag 'he said angrily', how might you demonstrate that anger through the character's physicality? Through their actions?

Leverage more than words to create your characters - think about their movements, and use those actions to create rich characters that can live outside of the pages of your story.

Happy writing!

Things I Learned In Improv Class, Volume 3: The Bell Game

What's improv comedy and why the heck am I writing about it? Check out the intro of Volume 1 and Volume 2 of this series for more info.

Today's Lesson: The Bell Game

If you've ever watched Drew Carey's Whose Line is It Anyway, you may have seen a version of the bell game.  It's a classic, and one of my favorites.  In it, the actors on stage improvise a scene, while another member of the team (Drew Carey in the case of Who's Line) watches and rings a bell at random intervals during the scene.  When the bell is rung, the improviser has to alter whatever noun or phrase they just said.  Typically the bell ringer will have the actor change their words three times, or as many times as it take to get a big laugh from the audience.  Here's an example:

"I have to go home and walk my dog."

(ding)

"I have to go home and walk my cat."

(ding)

"I think I'll stay right here with you, forever and ever."  *creepy stare*


Typically the first change of phrasing is closely linked to whatever was originally said.  The next change is more drastic, or the complete opposite of what was originally said.  It also usually gets the biggest laughs because of its juxtaposition to the original phrase.

Because the actors have no idea what phrase will illicit the bell ring, they can't plan ahead and are forced to think on the fly.  Okay, that's kind of the whole point of improv in the first place, but the difference here is that the new phrase usually alters the direction of an existing scene.  The case above is a perfect example - a scene where an actor goes home to walk their cat is much different from a scene with a stalker house guest that never leaves.

So what's this got to do with writing?

The bell forces quick, stream-of-conscious thinking.  It takes the actor out of their head and forces them to come up with a new idea on the fly.  As a writer, you can't exactly "bell" yourself, but you can use similar tactics to take yourself out of your head when you need to come up with a new idea or way to describe something.

My current work in progress involves a seemingly infinite staircase to the afterlife.  As you might imagine, the staircase is mentioned quite a bit.

If I shift + F7 the word 'staircase' I get the following results:

stairway
stairs
stair
flight of steps
set of steps
flight of stairs

Not very interesting.  How else can I describe the staircase without actually using the above six phrases over and over again?

The staircase in my world is made of grey stone.  A starting point for me is to think of other things that are made of stone, or are grey.  It's also massive and seemingly endless, so I can leverage other things that fit this description.  

To get myself into the "bell game" mindset, I set a timer for 60 seconds and start making a list of everything I can think of that is grey, stone, or some visual representation of a staircase.  The idea is to take myself out of my head and into stream-of-consciousness mode, where I may uncover some new ways to describe a staircase beyond those provided by my good friend Shift F7.

Staircase
Stone staircase
Monolith
tombstone
ancient relic
pyramid
ruins
archaic
bleak
Stonehenge
zig-zagging stone
teeth
chomping teeth
teeth chomping at the sky
stack of squares
stack of right angles
stack of rocks
jagged rocks
jagged grey
mountain
hill
Sisyphus

 And as you can see, my ideas deviated in several different directions, which is exactly what you want.  I might not describe a staircase as Sisyphus, but the act of climbing a staircase might make someone feel like Sisyphus, so in that way the ideas are all connected, and potentially usable.

If I wanted to build the list further, I might pick one of the more random descriptions as my anchor point and go for another 60 seconds.  What would come out of 60 seconds of stream-of-conscious writing about a tombstone or a stack of right angles?

The next time you're stumped, or if you need to describe something in multiple ways throughout your story, pull out the stopwatch and see what happens when you let your subconscious take over with a mini brainstorming session.  It might be just the thing you need to kick start your creativity.

Happy writing!

Things I Learned In Improv Class, Volume 2: You Are Not The Star

Improv comedy is a form of live theatre in which the plot, characters and dialogue of a scene are made up in the moment, without a script.

In this series of posts I'd like to share some of the tools I learned during the three years I studied improv comedy in Chicago, and show you how I apply them to my writing.

Today's lesson:  you are not the star

One of the hardest pills any aspiring improv actor must swallow is the idea that they are not the star of their scenes. Improv is a team sport, so spotlight stealers beware - nobody wants to work with someone who's only in it for themselves.

A scene ends after a big laugh.  Why?  Because there's usually nowhere else to take it once you hit the punchline, and you always want to end on a high note.

People who come out of the gate swinging with funny one-liners and punchy jokes kill the scene before it's started.  The truly great improvisers are able to take time and build scenes out so that they not only get a chuckle, but they get side-splitting laughs and thundering applause.

Even better than that, the truly great improvisers are experts at setting their scene partners up for success.  They don't focus on themselves and making everyone think they're funny - they focus on making the scene funny. Even if that means giving the big laughs to someone else.

So what's this got to do with writing?

I love me some metaphors.  Similes?  Check.  Analogies?  You betcha.  I love nothing more than crafting a beautiful sentence that will make readers sit back and say, damn, that girl can write!  

The problem is that beautifully constructed sentences and flowery comparisons may not be the right thing for my story or the voice of my character.  And really, it shouldn't be about making a reader sit back and marvel at a single sentence - it should be about making them sit back and marvel at the story.  

Essentially, I am not the star of the stories I write - my characters are.  By focusing on myself I am doing my story a massive disservice, because I'm taking the voice away from my character and giving it to me. Me, me, me. 

Learning to let go during revisions

At first, revisions were extremely hard for me. I had trouble cutting sentences or sections of the story that weren't really working, so instead I would try to write around them and force them to fit.

Then one day I started letting go (see my first post about saying 'yes, and' to critiques) and the most amazing thing happened - I was free!  The scenes read smoother, my characters were more consistent and my story was much, much stronger.  All I had to do was learn to let go of the scene or sentence that I was, for whatever reason, so enamored with, and focus instead on my characters.

No matter how much you love your writing, if it's not doing your story any good then it's time to say goodbye.  Remember - you are not the star, your story is. Focus on what's best for your story and your characters, and you will never go wrong.    

Happy writing!

Things I Learned In Improv Class, Volume 1

Improv comedy is a form of live theatre in which the plot, characters and dialogue of a scene are made up in the moment, without a script.

In this series of posts I'd like to share some of the tools and creativity exercises I learned during the three years I studied improv comedy in Chicago.

In each post I'll start by explaining the tool/exercise, then show you how I apply it to my writing process.

Today's lesson:  saying "yes, and..."

The principle of "yes and" is simple - never deny anything you are given on stage.  No matter what crazy idea your partner throws at you, you must never, never say no and must always run with their ideas.

Why?  Because saying no brings your scene to a screeching halt and prevents you and your partner from reaching new, uncharted territory.  Saying yes is so much more interesting.  Saying yes creates unexpected scenes that lead to big laughs from the audience.  And saying yes just feels so good.

Here's an example:

Imagine you are on stage.  You have no script and no idea what's about to happen.  All you know is that you and your partner are about to invent a scene together, and someone needs to kick things off with an opening line to establish the starting point.


You develop a loose idea in your head - you're going to be a self-important investment banker on your way to work.  You get into character, and just as you're about to open your mouth to start the mystery scene, your partner says:

"Good afternoon magical unicorn."

Oh, poop.

According to the principle of "yes and" you must accept your partner's idea and build on it.  But how can you be a self important investment banker when your partner just told you that you're a unicorn? 

Light bulb! What happens if you're a self-important investment UNICORN on your way to work?  Now that could be interesting.  In fact that sounds way more interesting than your average everyday self-important investment banker.  That could even be funny.

Instead of saying no, you say:  "Yes, and if these leprechauns don't get off this troll bridge I'm going to be late for my 8am meeting."

Voila!  You've established a scene with the potential for something interesting, unique and funny to happen. That, my friends, is improvising.

Saying "yes and" to critiques:

I've had a number of beta readers review my manuscript, and they've all given me fantastic advice.  They've also made suggestions that I didn't agree with.

Initially, my instinct was to ignore the critiques I didn't like.  After all, I'm the writer.  I know what's best for my story.

But then I remembered what I learned in improv class - saying "yes and" to unexpected ideas can result in something better than what was originally intended. 

So I tried it.

The results?  95% of the time the rewrite was stronger than what I initially wrote.  That's not to say I always took their advice verbatim, but sometimes by simply exploring the idea of changing a section loosely based on their recommendation, I ended up with a stronger manuscript.

It's easy to brush off advice we don't agree with.  Instead, try 'yes anding' it.  Try not to think about all the reasons you don't agree with their advice and instead see what happens if you take it at face value and  incorporate it.  The worst thing that can happen is you end up back where you started.  The best thing that can happen?  You end up somewhere better.

Saying "yes and" to your writing

I'm a pantser when it comes to writing, so writing without an outline is in my wheel house. But I still have moments of over analysis.  I've had ideas come to me and thought, "there's no way that will work," and ultimately put them back on my mental shelf to rot.

But what would have happened if I 'yes anded' my own idea?  Maybe I'd prove my initial theory - the idea doesn't work - but what if I was wrong?  I might have walked away from something really great without ever giving it a shot.

Here is your challenge:  stop saying no to yourself.  The next time you feel that niggling urge to squash an idea before it's seen the light of day, try saying 'yes, and..." and see where your writing takes you.  You might be surprised.

Spoken like a true panster, eh?

Happy writing!