Writing is Like Running

As I attempt to build myself up to running 5K for the September Gorilla Run (this being the gal who had notes excusing her from ANY and ALL running in phys ed in school), I’ve noticed that, in a lot of ways, running is similar to writing.

Like running, when you write, you can always use a few tools. However, you don’t have to get the super duper outfit to make you a Writer or a Runner. (Yep, I’m talking posers, here.) The writer who talks about writing, has memberships to all sorts of organizations related to writing, has all the writing books, writing software and more, but rarely spends time putting words to page (because it’s hard work and not as much fun as showing the world that you are a writer) may not necessarily be a ‘real’ writer. In the running world there are the same folks. (That would those folks with the fancy running gear, gps, playlist, t-shirts, talky-talky the talk, but yet, those running shoes are lucky if they make it around the block once every two weeks.)

As with writing, you can start running without knowing what you’re doing. You just slam one foot in front of the other until you begin to figure it out. Of course, it is always nice to know a little bit about what you’re attempting to help you achieve your goals. To grab an example from running, if you pop off the couch one day and try to run 5 km, the chances are you aren’t going to reach your goal. Or, if you do, you are likely to find yourself in a great deal of pain and unable to make that same attempt any time soon. You could also hurt yourself. Wah! In writing, if you plop in front of your computer or notepad and slam word after word down on the page without a clue, chances are you are going to be in for a world of hurt when you go back to edit that puppy into a story that actually works. If you have a training plan/picked up a few tips and skills, it helps no matter if we are talking writing or running. It pays to get a little bit of knowledge under your belt when you are starting out. I’m not saying deluge yourself in it–that can have the opposite effect as helpful–just find a few things to help you improve at the level you are currently hovering at.

When writing, if you slam down word after word with no clue, your story can easily end up in the woods. (Or recycle bin.) When writing, if you slam down foot after foot with no clue, you can easily end up in the woods eighty miles from home. (Or hospital.) In both worlds, there is something to be said for a little bit of planning.

Like running, there is a high. That wonderful feeling you get when you’re in the zone and the sentences flow like fresh honey out of the extractor and the word count blows your mind and you can’t help but smile and think how you could do this forever.

Like running, there are days when everything hurts. Every word comes at a cost and all you want to do is stop, stop, stop. Every word feels wrong. You wonder why the hell you even bother. You suck. This sucks. Why did you bother getting out of bed? Isn’t this supposed to be fun or something?

So, why do we run? And why do we write? It’s for those days. Those days golden days. Those days when you feel like you have accomplished something you can be proud of. Those days when everything flows and the whole universe feels like it is in line with you and all you have to do is aim straight ahead and let yourself soar, empowered. Everything is smooth and beautiful. Everything is groovy. You feel more alive and real than ever and everything is simply wonderful.

That is why.

That is why I write. And one day, that will be why I run. (…but not quite yet.)

How Writing a Novel is Like Building a Garage

Some folks say writing a novel is like building a house. I’ve never built a house before, but I am in the process of building a garage, so let’s go with a garage. Plus, with a house, you have to live in it afterwards. You don’t live in a novel (or a garage). Plus, if your novel doesn’t work out, you can shove it under the bed and ignore it. Sort of the same with a garage. Big deal if your garage doesn’t work out perfectly and has flaws–it just hangs out in the backyard anyway. It’s not like your company routinely takes a tour of the ‘car house’. But wait, if you have major structural flaws, then it isn’t like a novel where you can shove it aside because you have this big falling down box in your yard. Then your garage is like a really HUGE headache and will take huge amounts of time and effort to fix. Hey, it IS just like a novel with structural issues.

So, you ask, how are these two things similar? Really, and truly. Well, before you get started on either project, you need supplies and you need a bit of a plan or idea on what you plan to accomplish. Is this a romance? Is it a two car deal? Approximately how long is this novel going to be? How big is the garage going to be? Where is this story going to take place? Where are you going to place this building?

Once you have a few of the main ideas in mind, you can get started. If you are a panster builder, you get moving right away, letting details sort themselves out as you go. You start with the cement pad. Move on to walls… Figuring it out as you go. (Sometimes, you have to go back and change things as you figure out what is going to look or work best.) If you are a plotster writer, you have detailed plans before you even lift your hammer, er, apply fingers to the keyboard. You have your characters sorted out, the main conflict, the ending. Pretty much everything. Everything is ordered up and ready to be used as you need it. More front end work, less on the back end.

When it comes to materials, your cement pad is like your plot outline/story idea. Once that is down, everything builds on it. If you change that–it is a lot of work and basically, you don’t have the same story or garage if you make changes to this. It is your ‘foundation’ of sorts.

Things that make your characters distinct are the touches that make the garage distinct. Eyes/lights, skin colour/siding colour, hair colour/shingle colour. On the inside, what do you have and what do they say? Neat freak/lots of perfect shelves, ome as you are personality/uncovered or unfinished walls. Chipped teeth/chipped concrete.

And of course there are edits. Maybe that chapter is missing driving conflict. Maybe that wall isn’t quite level.

What about pacing and order? Your story needs structure. Things need to happen and flow in a way the reader can follow. Same with building a garage. You can’t turn on the lights before they are hooked up.

And finally, like any form of work, there is always a sign that it is time to take a break. If you don’t, you might nail that sheet of OSB on the wrong way and have to redo it all. DOH!
Happy building!

Paranoid

So, what’s the deal? I’ve read in the past week or so that writing in first person narration is incredibly difficult and most of those who try, flub it up. One misstep and the whole thing crumbles and the reader sees past the curtain you’ve created for your fictionalization. Either that or you bore them to death with the monotony.

Cripes. Have you ever tried NOT writing this way? I find I get incredibly boring if I don’t write in the first person. I guess all my multiple personalities have finally found their purpose.

Yeesh, should I changed my pants because I’ve crapped in them, or should I just pat my huge ego and believe that I am an ‘advanced’ writer who has managed to pull it off?

BTW, I only have 24 more pages to skim for comparison. And I took a Tylenol AND made myself a mocha.

The First Five Pages: Comparison

I love Noah Lukeman. There was one scene in my manuscript that I just couldn’t quite get the right feeling going. I needed the reader to really slip into the character’s situation and go, “oh my god, the mortification!” So, after reading the chapter on comparison, I skimmed through the first twenty-five pages looking for places where I could use a comparison to add some brevity or pull the reader in a little more. Specifically, I was heading for one particular scene. I found it. I used comparison to bring the scene across better. And I think it is a lot better. Thank you Lukeman!

Before: Turning, I find three pairs of eyes staring at me. Edison’s father appears horrified, Rose disgusted and Edison, blatantly curious.

After: Turning, I find three pairs of eyes staring at me. Their expressions are similar to those who have witnessed a car crash; a mixture of curiosity and horror.

Still thinking about past chapters, I still use ‘look’ a lot! I just found half a page that I had gone over that still had the character ‘looking’ at the turkey three times!!! Three times! How crazy is that!