Nanowrimo #Fail (I blame you, Larry Brooks.)

I will not be crossing the Nanowrimo finish line tomorrow.

I have failed – utterly – to get 50,000 words of my novel cranked out in 30 days.

I blame Larry Brooks.

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You see, a year or so ago, fellow Live to Write – Write to Live blogger, Wendy, introduced me to Brooks’ work on the theory of story structure. As I dug into his content – rich blog posts, in-depth ebooks, and honest-to-goodness print books (joy!) – my interest blossomed from merely curious to fanatically infatuated. I unleashed my inner student with her armory of colored pens and highlighters and dove into Story Engineering with gusto and gratitude. I made notes, underlined everything, and drew diagrams.

I cannot recommend Brooks’ work enough.

Reading his explanation of what makes a story tick was like learning the secret behind a mind-blowing magic trick. Once I’d seen it, it made such sense. It was inspiring. It made me want to try my own hand at creating a little magic. Real magic.

As November approached, I got the crazy idea to give Nanowrimo another go (I’d “won” in 2009, but skipped out in 2010 and 2011.). Despite being super busy, I was invigorated by the thought of creating a strong outline based on what I’d learned from Brooks. This year, instead of blindly hacking out 50,000 words of crap, I would invest my time in creating a halfway decent first draft with a strong underlying structure – something with real possibilities. I wanted something I would actually want to polish instead of, like my 2009 “novel” (and I use the term ever so loosely), something I would bury in a never-visited archive folder deep in the labyrinth of my computer’s hard drive.

I was pumped. I was tingling. I was bursting with ideas.

And then, life happened.

My uncharacteristically open work schedule suddenly filled back up to its usual full capacity and all the October hours I’d gleefully allocated to story planning were sucked up by urgent client projects. No matter, I thought optimistically, I’ll just plan on-the-fly. It’ll still work.

But, it didn’t.

I couldn’t take the pressure of trying to plan my book out so quickly. I wanted time to let the idea germinate and develop. I wanted time to play with variations on the theme and a variety of possible story threads. When November 1^st arrived and I was still without a plan, I found myself face-to-face with some major resistance. Though I did some work on character and location sketches, sample prologues, and a few opening scenes, I didn’t want to write.

I didn’t want to write.

It’s not that I couldn’t. I could have followed my 2009 playbook and just rambled away with no idea of where I was going (or why). I could have written random scenes and hoped that I might eventually someday stitch them together into a semblance of a story. I could have done a whole freeform thing and not cared one whit about the end result.

But I’d grown beyond that. I’d seen the truth behind the trick and I couldn’t unsee it.

“Play” writing has its merits – it can free your muse, tickle your fancy, turn expectations on their heads to reveal striking new plot insights and concept perspective. It can serve as a roundabout way to brainstorm a story. It can unearth important personal discoveries that contribute to the veracity and depth of your work.

What it won’t deliver (unless you are a massively gifted and highly experienced virtuoso) is a well-structured story that hits every mark in terms of concept, character, theme, story structure, scene execution, and writing voice  - Brooks’ “six core competencies” of the story craft.

I knew that without a plan (or the brain of, say, Stephen King), I wouldn’t be able to create the kind of story Brooks’ work had inspired me to write. I knew that even if I managed to get 50,000 words down most of them would never again appear on my screen, let alone be read by another human being. Though I hated to do it, I laid down my pen. It wasn’t an easy decision. I am not a quitter. But, in the end, I decided that my time would be better spent continuing to work on the bones of my story. Like a sorceress creating a creature from dust and light, I knew I had to start with the bones and build out from there. It was the only way.

So my Nanowrimo dreams for 2012 met a premature end.

And I’m okay with that.

In fact, I’d like to thank Mr. Brooks.

I may not have written 50,000 words in November, but because of what I’ve learned from him I know that the next 50,000 words I write will have a much higher chance of becoming part of a publishable manuscript.

I’m definitely okay with that.

What are your thoughts on plotting (designing your story based on a framework like Brooks’) vs. pantsing (relying entirely on your muse to drive the story as you write it)?  If you did Nanowrimo, did you have a plan going in, or just wing it? How’d that work out for you?

P.S. I offer my most sincere and heartfelt congratulations to everyone who successfully crosses the Nanowrimo finish line this year (especially to my fellow Live to Write – Write to Live bloggers – Wendy and (hopefully!) Deborah. Way to go, girls!).

Jamie Lee Wallace is a writer who also happens to be a marketer. She helps her Suddenly Marketing clients discover their voice, connect with their audience, and find their marketing groove. She is also a mom, a prolific blogger, and a student of voice and trapeze (not at the same time). Introduce yourself on facebook or twitter. She doesn’t bite … usually.

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Structure First, Story Second Debate

If you read this blog, you’ve probably seen the name Larry Brooks mentioned a few times. Larry is a writer who takes one of the most sane approaches to writing I’ve ever seen. He believes that all marketable writing should fit into a formula, a predetermined map where predictable events (such as plot points) happen at predictable places in the novel. If you follow the formula, he contends, you have a better chance of being published then if you did not.

Mr. Bad Self - Larry Brooks

As an ex-tech writer, I absolutely love this approach. I can see how it makes a writer’s life so much easier. If you know that you need to have a plot point at roughly one-quarter of the way into your book, then that’s where you plan to put it.

I can’t tell you, however, how many discussions I’ve had with other writers about how this is a “fake” way to write. “A good writer emotes, she tells her story her own way.” And while that might be true, I’m guessing that that creative writer is probably not published. You can be the best emoter in the world but if no one buys your stuff that leaves you being nothing more than a starving-emoter who writes well.

Not what I want to be when I grow up.

I have signed up for Larry’s email list (if you haven’t you should, it’s free and he sends out terrific information) which is how I found out that Larry is running a special on his website this month. If you buy an electronic copy of one of his books he’ll send you free (FREE!!) a .pdf copy of his book “Get Your Bad Self Published.”

Here’s the offer:

Hi — thanks for being a Storyfix.com reader.  Which means you’re a writer… which in turn means you might like the little free ebook promo I’m running in August.  Go to www.storyfix.com for more.  I’ll make this short here:

I’ve just launched three of my previously published novels (including my USA Today bestseller and my PW “Best Books of 2004″ honoree) via Kindle, Smashwords and Nook. To help this get going, I’m offering a free copy of my ebook, “Get Your Bad Self Published” when someone buys one of those novels (for $2.99; the free ebook sells for $14.95, so it’s a pretty good deal).

The freebie offer also applies to my most current novel (“Whisper…”), AND to my new writing book, “Story Engineering” (new purchases only, please).

The books and deal are described HERE, hope you’ll check it out.

If you’d like to learn more about the FREE eBook itself, click HERE.  Just don’t click “Buy” on that page, you can get it free by opting in to the buy-a-novel-get-the-ebook-free offer.

Larry
www.storyfix.com

Well how could I refuse right? I ordered the e-copy of his book, sent him my electronic receipt and in the return mail Larry sent me the .pdf file. In my email I also happened to mention that some of my writer friends continue to have heated debates with me on his material, that they claim that if you plan a book out the way he suggests then it’s not “real” writing.

This is Larry’s response, worthy of inclusion in a post on this blog:

Interesting. I always wonder what those writers are thinking… because… the books of successful authors who don’t understand or accept these structural principles — including those of your group members who happen to author a successful story — end up with a story that looks ALMOST EXACTLY, in terms of structure, layering, and the demonstration of all six core competencies, as writers who BEGIN with these goals in mind.

It’s really a debate (or issue) about process, never about outcome. Because the outcomes — which are the SAME as the goals of the six core competencies and the principles of solid story architecture — is always the same basic model. You can’t, nor can they, come up with meaning exceptions or contrary examples without resorting to ancient literature or experimental fiction. This is about commercially-viable, professional (as in, commerce) writing, not journaling.

Hope you’ll share this answer… I always wonder, when put under the gun on this stuff, who these writers think they are (are they published and successful?) to say what is “real writing” and what isn’t. Process is personal, outcome is defined outside of that, and is not negotiable. Even by “real writers,” which in this case are writers who aren’t for some reason, able to process or proceed according to a proven pathway, but rather, think they must carve their own path toward the goal… which is in the exact same place.

And by the way, I’m a “real” writer, I can assure you and your group. I have the scars, and the published track record, to prove it. (BIG SMILE HERE, Wendy.)

The debate is unwinnable. The outcome of it, however, it inevitable.

I’m happily married with 6 children, but man, I LOVE this guy.

How about you? On which side do you fall in the structure debate? Structure is how it sells or structure is a sell out?

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Wendy Thomas is an award winning journalist, columnist, and blogger who believes that taking challenges in life will always lead to goodness. She is the mother of 6 funny and creative kids and it is her goal to teach them through stories and lessons.

Wendy’s current project involves writing about her family’s experiences with chickens (yes, chickens).

And someday you’ll be reading a book about our chicken adventures that was written using  Larry’s “Story Structure” guidelines. 

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A Beginning, A Middle and An End

I can clearly remember being taught story structure in school. It was drummed into my head; stories have a beginning, a middle and an end. For people like me, that stuck, but I dare say, those who had a strength for accounting, engineering or agriculture took the test and let that little tidbit slide out of their memory. Still, regardless of your vocation, as humans, we all relate to stories whether we create them for a living or not. This is true even in works of non-fiction or more business oriented fields like marketing and especially in reality TV.

I’m a fan of Deadliest Catch. I have a tremendous amount of respect for those men that go out and battle the Bering Sea. I think they are just a few crabs short of a bushel, but it is clear, they are driven and thrive on the thrill, more power to ‘em!

photo © 2010 Jinny Koh | more info (via: Wylio) This past season was a heartbreaker. Captain Phil Harris, the crusty skipper of the Cornelia Marie, suffered a stroke and ultimately passed away. Captain Phil wasn’t happy unless he was living on the bleeding edge. He epitomized the work hard play hard mentality and eventually all of that hard living caught up with him.

Throughout the series history, you could count on Phil for some great one-liners and drama. He struck me as a porcupine prickly on the outside (I’d never want to cross him), but squishy on the inside (he was fiercely loyal and truly cared about his crew that included his two sons). Although TV is not my favorite communications medium, I felt for the camera crew that had to put up with him. I also felt for the editors and producers charged with sifting through the hours and hours of video footage to select the snippets that would tell a story across an entire season of shows as well as the story of each one-hour episode.

On the day of his stroke, one of the camera crew put his camera down and came to Phil’s aid. Todd (I can’t remember his last name and can’t locate it on the Discovery site) was there for Phil and helped carry the big man off the boat. He was at the hospital(s) with Phil and his boys, Jake & Josh. Todd was working, but it was clear he was also there to support a friend.

During one of the later episodes of Deadliest Catch, or maybe on After the Catch, Todd is interviewed about his experiences with Phil. He talks about Phil Harris the man, and also about their working relationship and friendship. Todd tells a tale that struck me in my creative center.

Phil’s friends and family are anxiously awaiting word on his status in the waiting room of the hospital. A doctor comes out and asks ‘is there a Todd here? Todd?’ Todd identifies himself and the doctor says ‘he wants to talk to you.’ Todd and a colleague with a camera go in to see Phil. Phil tries desperately to communicate with Todd, but the stroke has garbled his speech. His right side is relatively unaffected, so they get him a white board and a pen. Phil scribbles, Tell the end of the story.

Phil’s death was sad, but not entirely unexpected given the way he lived. Yes, I cried when he died, but I was more deeply touched at his recognition of the necessity for an end to the story of him and his openness in sharing his end. He knew he was going to die and he invited Discovery and the fans of the show to share in that. He got it.

To me, that is as an amazing gift and a powerful recognition of what the show had done for him and his respect for the creative process that goes into producing the show. It is not just a chronicle of what happens at sea. It is a story. I’ll acknowledge that sometimes the drama is a little heavy handed, but it is still a story.

So often when we as writers work on projects, especially in non-fiction, people don’t understand the process, nor do they understand the need to tell a story.

Has your work or your process ever been recognized by someone who operates outside the creative space?

Lee Laughlin is a writer, wife, and mom, frequently all of those things at once. She blogs at Livefearlesslee.com and Thisnhlife.com. Her words have appeared in a broad range of publications from community newspapers to the Boston Globe.

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