After finally finishing the outline for the rewrite last week, I immediately jumped into re-reading the western spec in preparation for the inevitable rewrite/polish.
Looking at it after a 1 1/2-month break was incredibly helpful, and it still reads great.
Then it hit me.
If I can keep up this kind of productivity, I’ll have two brand spanking-new scripts ready to go relatively soon.
Yay.
This whole “dedicating a little time each day to writing” thing continues to be paying off.
Added bonus – more material at my disposal to respond to the question “What else have you got?”
Fortunately, I’m not doomed when the sand runs out
My schedule is probably a bit different than yours.
A job in broadcasting, getting around a large metropolitan city via bicycle or public transit, and escorting V to her numerous afterschool activities means not a lot of time to sit and write. Maybe a little over an hour a day. Maybe one and a half to two, if I’m lucky.
Since it’s all about getting stuff done, I’ve learned how to jam as much productivity as possible into that short window. Sometimes it’ll be “write until the end of this particular scene” or “crank out X number of pages.” Other times it might be “write until this point in time” or “write until you just can’t do it anymore”.
An hour may not seem like a lot of time to work with, but you work with what’s available.
Plus, setting up this kind of work habit is extremely beneficial on several levels:
-compels you to concentrate
-regular work pattern can improve skills and boost creativity
-problem-solving becomes easier and less necessary
-productivity may be slow, but remains steady
-that sense of accomplishment from having actually written something (very important)
These extremely unscientific results are how it’s worked out for me. I can’t speak for others, but I would imagine the results have been similar.
Find a system that works best for you, and keep at it. Make the commitment and stick with it. A few pages a day, and before you know it, you’ll be done.
Then you reset the clock and start all over again.
Getting closer to the end of the outline rewrite. I like how the story’s developing, and it definitely feels stronger than it did before. There are still some tweaks and adjustments to be made, but overall, it’s really coming together.
The last two words of the previous sentence are especially poignant, because as I modify the previous draft, it exposes some problems that need immediate fixing.
Occasionally, something would happen in an “all of a sudden”-type of way, mostly because I hadn’t set it up properly. So I’ll go back to earlier in the story to see where it can.
If I can make it work, great. If not, what has to be changed so it still works on all the levels it’s supposed to?
You want your story to flow smoothly and not feel forced. Throwing something in out of left field not only disrupts the story, but is just lazy writing.
Each scene should continue what happened in the one before it, and lead into the one after it. One of the basic tenets that tends to get lost in the shuffle, especially among beginner writers.
Take the time to plan things out, and don’t be afraid to cut where necessary.
You also want to make sure the details of your story all mesh together. This applies not only to what happens in the story itself, but the world in which your story takes place. Make it feel as authentic as possible. Part of our job as the writer is to convince the audience this kind of world could actually exist.
You have to do everything you can to ensure the story is fresh and original, stays interesting and keeps things moving. You may not think all those little details matter, but people will notice them (or lack of them).
They’re the writers and the house is the first draft. See? It’s a visual metaphor!
When I started this rewrite, I wanted to really shake things up and take it beyond just putting on a new coat of paint and rearranging the furniture.
This had to be really different from what it already was. Major changes require major brainstorming and planning.
The starting point was breaking down the previous outline on a scene-by-scene basis. What worked? What didn’t?
One subplot has already been cut because it just didn’t mesh with the rest of it. A more suitable replacement has been developed, and not only does it still work for the story, it opened up more possibilities.
Each scene is still evaluated to determine how it advances the story as well as how it fits in to the plot. Yes, some darlings must be killed as work progresses, but if they don’t serve a purpose that supports the overall story, then they weren’t needed in the first place. Maybe they can be reconfigured and used another way.
Working through all of this reminded me of a significant bonus to writing on a regular basis – your creativeness gets a constant workout, which has made it slightly easier than expected to come up with ideas of how to make a scene stronger or at least more effective.
And since this is a mystery, it’s extremely important that all the intricate details are in place. Clues and red herrings are in the process of being planted, a key factor of which is making sure their place in the puzzle is organic, and not shoehorned in.
Taking a steady, methodical approach to this has made it not as imposing as originally expected.
When I started this rewrite, I had the standard fear/concern that I wouldn’t be able to figure things out and come up with solutions.
The solution to your problems is somewhere in there
Finding time to work on the outline of the rewrite has been a bit challenging these days, but I’m managing. I do what I can to make the most out of a limited timeframe. Do this often enough, and it actually gets easier.
One of my biggest concerns with this new draft was “what if I can’t think of anything?”
Trying to figure things out had been bothering me for the past couple of days. No matter what I was doing, I’d be going over potential scenes and scenarios in my mind. How about this? Does this work?
All that was missing was the cartoony stormcloud over my head.
So I’m riding my bike home from work. All of a sudden, a metaphoric lightning bolt springs from that cloud and hits me dead center.
A small idea pops in. Just a two-word phrase, but within it is the potential to have a widespread impact throughout the rest of the story.
This then triggered a steady flow of still more possibilities. If I redo this part, then this could happen, thereby changing that and the other thing around completely.
How could I not see any of this before?
Writer’s block happens to everybody. It can be extremely frustrating, but you can’t let it stop you. It takes time to break it down, but don’t force it.
Do what you can to encourage your creativeness, and eventually it’ll be a lot more cooperative. Once you have that breakthrough, you’ll feel like there’s nothing that can stop you.
Maximum Z 