The secret formula’s written on a receipt.
I can’t tell you how many story ideas I’ve lost because I didn’t write them down. Thousands, likely. They probably weren’t all good, most of them terrible, I’d wager. Yet there were mental gems I uncovered, gazed at with wonder, then kicked dirt over by accident when something else distracted me. Whether or not they ever come back to me isn’t something I get to decide. Being ready to write down a good idea isn’t hard, so long as one stocks the places they frequently have ideas with something to write with and something to write on. Some ideas for you:
1. Have a pen and paper next to your bed and make yourself write ideas down immediately!
I have a pen and a pad of Post-Its in my bedside table drawer. This is coupled with an overwhelming fear that I won’t remember my “brilliance” in the morning. A flash in the brain, a quick click of the Simpsons lamp, and an immediate moment of writing. I rarely write down dreams, and am rarely able to remember their specific details. I usually jot down the magnificent thoughts which occur to me as I drift into unconsciousness. If you have an idea at this time, and you hear your brain say, “Eh, I’ll remember it in the morning,” kick your brain in the face and wake up. Get it down on paper. If you’re befuddled about its meaning in the morning well, at least you have something to befuddle over.
2. Use Note Pad and consistent folder organization for ideas typed up on a computer.
On the computer, I use Note Pad for quick ideas. It’s faster than loading up and saving with MS Word, and the down-and-dirty feel of immediately typing away appeals to me. Plus, I’m a nut for courier font. I suggest organizing folders for your ideas, too. You can try one file for all ideas, no matter how random, break it up by genre or format, etc. Step one is typing up the idea, but step two is making sure you can find it again.
3. Carrying actual pen and paper with you ensures you never lose an idea (and makes you look like an honest-to-God writer, too!).
I tend to have actual paper handy, too. There’s usually a large notebook in my Wenger Synergy laptop backpack, and there’s always a handful of writing implements and at least some paper to scrawl something down on, even if it’s the inside cover of a day planner.
Finally, I always carry a pen. I didn’t do this for a long time, afraid I would ruin a good pair of pants or jab myself in the leg. However, when one loses enough potentially good ideas, worrying about denim doesn’t seem all that important. I carry a Zebra Zeb-Roller 2000 0.7mm black liquid ink pen, my favorite cartooning ink pen for years, in my pocket at all times. I’m not as consistent with paper; usually I rely on receipts, movie ticket stubs, and business cards - especially business cards. Everyone gives me a business card and I spend more time writing bits on the back than reading the embossed front. If I’m magically out of even a scrap of a scrap to write on in my pocket, the middle school write-on-your-palm trick suffices in a pinch.
Bonus Tip: Date your ideas to give it context further down the timeline.
I always jot down the date I have my story ideas. This comes in handy when I find an idea on the back of a receipt months after I wrote it. It helps me get a little context, consider if other ideas have spawned from it since, and so on. There’s beautiful irony in using a dating system for something so unorganized at its core, yet that’s the writing habit I’ve fallen into.
Prepare yourself for losing ideas. It’s never fun, but it’s okay. Prepare yourself for recording ideas, too. Give yourself the tools you need to make sure you never lose another idea again. And if none of this works for you, record your ideas at Word Perhect, the online write-on-the-back-of-a-receipt website you’ve been waiting for.
-nm
Technorati Tags: story ideas, pen, writing, saving ideas, Word Perhect
“You words are dead to me,” I [something besides ’said’].
I apparently don’t agree with the North Carolina school systems.
Deciding to give stumbleupon a try, I searched for “writing” and found a link to the Iredell-Stateseville school system website’s list of other words for “said.” The list includes words like “acknowledged,” “lectured,” “reassured,” “emphasized,” and “grinned.” Grinned? “Grinned” isn’t a synonym for “said,” it’s a synonym for “smiled.” How does the act of grinning describe how someone speaks? Iredell-Statesville (go, you Staties!) presents a long, clunky list of long, clunky words. I’m a proponent of “said,” and I’m not alone: Stephen King loves it (Eric Bakovic quoted a bit on “said” from King’s On Writing at the Language Log), Neil Gaiman is a fan of “said,” Elmore Leonard uses it exclusively (it’s his fourth of Ten Rules for Writing).
A few clicks on the Iredell-Statesville (go, you Irdies!) website brought me to the concept of “dead words” - words that are too common and have plenty of synonyms which, apparently, are better than those peasant-like commoner words. It suggests not using “awesome” or “cool,” but trying “fine,” “wonderful,” and “marvelous.” You know, as in “Man, Jimmy, that double ollie kickflip you popped on your board was wonderful! That move was so sick, uh, I mean, indisposed!” I’ve never heard of “dead words” so I Googled it and found another North Carolina education website called LearnNC with K-12 instructor resources that actually encourages instructors to make art-project tombstones for “dead words.” Those other words flying out of the tombstone must be the root word’s ghost children.
The merit behind eliminating dead words is well-intended, but I disagree with this methodology. If an instructor wants their students to improve their vocabulary, have them read more, both in and out of class. Then talk about the reading; make them participate in the discussion. Talk about the words; find out what stood out to them and why. Have them underline words they don’t know and actually look them up on their own. Now, this is the part when people talk about how hard it is to get students to read. They don’t want to read? They don’t want to do the work? They don’t want to do what school is supposed to have them do? Too bad. Do you honestly think they’ll want to gluestick and glitterglue some construction paper with the word “innumerable” on it, instead?
-nm
Technorati Tags: dead words, said, north carolina school system, language log, neil gaiman, innumerable
Storytelling shapes.
Though it’s been a while since I’ve done onstage improv on a consistent basis, I’ve been performing since 1999. I’ve also been writing during that time, though I’ve realized that when I’m improvising more, I write less and vice versa (lately, it’s the case of vice versa). One thing I dig about improv and writing are its commonalities, and one major piece is storytelling.
Jerome Stern presents his concept that each work of fiction has a certain shape which lends itself to a distinct style of storytelling. I’m reading his book, Making Shapely Fiction, and am enjoying the concepts he lays out. Stern presents sixteen story “shapes,” each presents the story shape, explain why it’s effective and what pitfalls to avoid, gives an original example of the story shape (all written by Stern, as far as I can tell), and asks the reader to try writing a story in that style. It’s a quick read, a good shelf resource, and nice and cheap - what more does one need from a good writing book?
A few of Stern’s shapes remind me of what can make a good improv scene successful. For example, in “Bear at the Door,” Stern asks the reader to write a story where the character has a problem, a significant problem, a pressing problem. The example problem he uses is a bear at the door: “The bear demands action. (Stern, 46)” To go beyond the bear example, the story demands action. A healthy improv scene will constantly raise the stakes; the actors won’t hesitate, even if their characters do, to take action. Another of Stern’s story shapes is “Blue Moon,” describing how to make the unreal acceptable in story (think fantasy, science fiction, legends and myths, etc.). These are the stories which rely on the reader’s willingness to suspend belief, and it all begins at the beginning. Let’s say there’s an improv scene where Actor A proclaims his favorite taxi drivers are chipmunks. Actor B has two choices: embrace it and declare something which raises the stakes (”Yes, and they drive better than those stinkin’ squirrel drivers!”) or try to justify the crazy claim with something that breaks the reality (”Oh, grandpa, take your pills!”). They’re both responses, but the first one is a healthier choice. It accepts and supports the reality of the scene laid out by Actor A. With this choice, Actor B is not afraid to let the scene’s reality be different than the reality of his own world, and the characters - and the audience - is in for a real treat.
Stern’s story shapes are aimed at fiction writers (always know your intended audience, dear reader!), but the crossover to other forms of storytelling art is hard to ignore.
~ nm
Technorati Tags: jerome stern, fiction, improv, storytelling, making shapely fiction, writing advice
A fascinating process and a disturbing outcome.
I’m writing this blog almost immediately after writing and posting a short story that disturbed me. I want to write about both how I came up with the idea and why the story disturbs me. This is a long post, longer than I want it to be, but indulge me if you will, dear reader. First, what lead me to write the story…
I’m not excited about it, but the concept of child predators has been floating in my conscious for just over a week, now. Nine days ago, friend and talented Minneapolis actor Levi Weinhagen wrote a blog post about child predators and, specifically, Dateline NBC’s “To Catch a Predator.” A few days later, I ran across this story at MSNBC.com. A few days later, I hear a fascinating tale on NPR’s The Story. Finally, two nights ago, my fiancée watched Dateline’s “To Catch a Predator” while I was writing in the other room.
Earlier today, I ran to Barnes & Noble with a friend to exchange the birthday book he’d given me which I already own (if this happens to you as the gift giver there’s nothing wrong with it, by the way - it shows you really know the gift receiver’s tastes). With the exchange, I finally picked up a copy of Cormac McCarthy’s The Road. I’ve been meaning to get it forever, and the paperback is affordable thanks to the (removable, if you wish) Oprah Book Club sticker. When I got home, I noticed another (just as removable, though I’m not sure that I’d take it off) sticker: “Winner of the Pulitzer Prize.” In-between my time of hemming and hawing over picking up a hardcover copy last summer and the Oprah paperback release a few months ago, McCarthy won the Pulitzer. Don’t know McCarthy? Blood Meridian is gold.
A few hours later, I went to Wikipedia to read about when McCarthy won the Pulitzer and his other major award, the National Book Award. That had a link to young adult literature which mentioned Judy Blume who I used to read, especially Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing. Still with me? After reading a little about the book, it made me think of how as a kid, I loved that book (maybe not as much as the Harry Potter fans who claim they simply couldn’t put the latest book down last weekend, but quite a bit). Potter fans. Couldn’t put the book down. A-ha!
I had a first sentence. Someone asking someone else about what books they just couldn’t put down. Who would ask that question? A therapist, for insight into someone’s psyche. What’s the answer? Tales of a Fourth Grade Nothing, of course, and the person who answers is the therapist’s patient. But toss in a little humor. It’s a man, but he only read it for the first time a week before. My trip to the bookstore must have tripped his next bit, that he got it in the children’s section. From there, the child molester concept that haunted the dim recesses of my mind this week crept up before I knew it, and the last line came out: Joe had met “a boy” while getting the book. The story doesn’t come right out and say Joe did anything to the boy (a happier interpretation might be Joe found his inner child), but I believe the implication is there, at least enough for a few folks to latch onto it. And the names are important to me, too, “Joe” being common for the anonymous everyman and “boy” being just as generic - these people could be anyone. The title, “Book Club,” suggests to me that Joe took the boy and the book and had the most horrific book club meetings one would never want to imagine, something quite the opposite of Oprah’s.
It’s the tip of the iceberg in what could potentially be a longer story, but what I’m fascinated most with is how so many bits and pieces floating around in my brain over the last few days culminated into this story. As I’ve mentioned before, I write most of my Scrawlers stories as flash fiction, so to me, it’s doubly-interesting that not only did the story elements zip together from the aforementioned floating brain bits, they did so all in one minute - straight from my brain, out my fingertips, and onto the screen. The process is one I find wonderful, and it makes me curious how often I’ve done that before, if I’ll ever do it again (and with success), and if one could force it, if they tried. Has this sort of process happened to you, dear reader?
As for the story disturbing me, it describes a dismal moment in the life of a confused man. His crime is reprehensible, his motives are unclear, but his emotion rings genuine to me. To me, Joe is a man who committed a horrendous act but feels genuine sorrow for the pain he caused. I’m not claiming to judge predators, nor sympathize with them. After all, I work with youth on a regular basis; it’s a touchy subject in my profession. The catch-22 of sympathy and judgment makes this story difficult to read, yet isn’t that something good fiction is supposed to do? To make you think, to make you respond enough to have to give it some thought, to actually have to “put the book down,” so to speak? I suppose I’m saying I wrote good fiction, and I think I did, but think of it this way - what does it mean if the story makes even the writer have to step away from it for a moment because he reacted to it emotionally?
Just some initial thoughts on a story from the writer. At and 11:57pm, I’m getting this in just under the wire to adhere to my self-imposed one-a-day goal. Your comments are appreciated.
~nm
Technorati Tags: pulitzer, cormac mccarthy, couldn’t put it down, to catch a predator, npr
I am everyday people.
I’m going to write (at least) one short story and give a note to (at least) one short story a day through the rest of the month here at Scrawlers. It’s something I’ve been meaning to do, something I should have been doing. One of my pet peeves in a regular writing workshop is when someone doesn’t actively participate, and thus I’ve become what I do not like. So to that, I will try a change and see what comes of it.
Writing here every day shouldn’t be hard, so long as I put in the time. See, I write my Scrawlers stories as flash fiction, for the most part. It seems easiest when staring at a blank screen which asks me for one-hundred words. Something pops in my head, an image, a line, a mood, and I let that inform the piece. Mood is most interesting to me; one can tell what sort of mood I’m in when I write a Scrawlers piece. My work here has gone from melancholy to outright silly. And that’s fiction. Versatile, versatile fiction.
Off to read a little of Elmore Leonard’s latest. Later, I’ll head out for the midnight show. Tomorrow morning calls for more research and of course, a Scrawlers post or two…
~nm
How many irons can a man put in the fire?
I find myself involved in quite a few creative projects, and their prep time is overlapping.
I’m putting the finishing touches on a solo improv show for an August 5th premiere. I’ve done a portion of the show already in a solo performance show last spring called “The Bearded Gentlemen,” and I’ve done solo improv work before, so I’m not going in blind. Still, the show I’m developing has a relentless pace and if the plane doesn’t take off and soar, well, we all know who put in the fuel.
I started my thesis, too, which is to say I’ve been going through three separate screenplays I’ve written. I wish to explore each one completely, but choosing which will be my personal “magnum opus” to close my MFA has proven difficult. One is completely written and already has rewrites incorporated, one is merely a first draft and needs a little TLC, and the final is not written yet but has great potential. The time to decide is dwindling.
I’m doing research for a fall writing project (the third aforementioned screenplay), and I’ve not been doing it every day as I’d hoped (of course). The research is fascinating, and it gives me new story ideas every time I delve into a few hours of reading. However, I’m not giving the project the regular schedule of time and attention it requires / deserves.
Finally, I’m trying to get some hard work in on a book (aren’t we all?). This has been the trickiest creative project to work with, because I’m both excited for it and yet it doesn’t have a looming deadline like the other three projects. Looking over the last few weeks, it’s the one project I feel I’ve done the most work on. This is either me procrastinating on the other three or really giving this one a shot. Regardless, a few pages done on a book feels great, and a few more will feel even better.
It’s a lot to do. But I wouldn’t have it any other way.
~nm
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About
Brought together by mutual interest in creative arts and web development, Minnesota duo Barry Hess and Nathan Melcher founded Scrawlers.com in 2006. Scrawlers marries creativity with a web-based outlet for aspiring writers and The Scrawl blog seeks to add fuel your creative fire.
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