Better Novel Project is a deconstruction project using the Hero’s Journey model (opposed to, say, the 8 C’s method, which I use). Christine is a great resource, and I’m honored to be a guest on her blog! Follow her on Twitter here.
Image from Better Novel Project
I wanted to share how I’m outlining my novel. I’m a pantser, but my pantsing has yet to flesh out a working manuscript, because novels are so very different from short fiction and because I can’t write by the seat of my pants when I’m writing about a setting I’m still largely unfamiliar with (England, 12th century). Research has to come first, and then the exposition follows.
My last few attempts at fleshing out this manuscript have been as a plotter, but after all the planning, I have a skeleton and some ligaments. Now it’s time to add the meat, then the skin, the hair, the eyeballs, some freckles, and some pimples before I can present it as a living thing that can go out into the world.
I’ve written many posts on plot for you, complete with my own method for plotting and downloadable worksheets for you to try. If you don’t have the 8 C’s, though, at least have an idea of the introduction, rising action, climax, falling action, and resolution. Obviously I came up with my own method for a reason—the other methods weren’t hacking it for me, because I needed something more spelled out—but I also recommend the Plot Rollercoaster found in the novel planning workbook from NaNoWriMo. Download the workbook for free here.
My outline is basically a Plot Treatment. Read about plot treatments and its value for both plotters and pantsers in my post “Letters from Anne Lamott.” But instead of writing paragraphs for each chapter, I’ve basically made it into a hybrid plot treatment and beat sheet.
Here’s the basic format.
Point A (How it begins)
Point B (How it ends)
What happens between those points?
What questions are answered?
What questions are still unanswered?
What needs to be researched?
That last one is especially applicable for me, because I’m writing historical fiction, so it might not be as important for you.
I suggest being open with the beat sheet part (the “what happens between those points”) at first, especially if you’re a pantser, so that your outline doesn’t limit your creative juices while pantsing it from A to B.
Point A (How it begins):
This is the day of the reaping
Point B (How it ends):
Prim is chosen
What happens between those points?
What questions are answered?
What questions are still unanswered?
Research:
Suzanne Collins may have needed to research hunting for this chapter.
—
I’ve got the first twelve chapters laid out like this so far. I make sure the chapters will end at a point that leaves more questions than that chapter has answered. Then the next chapter either begins with a reaction to that point, or it goes somewhere else entirely, and then comes back to that reaction. I’ve heard the quote, “Never take your reader where they want to go.” In this context, another way of saying that is “Don’t answer your reader’s questions right away.” Your suspense will keep them reading.
Since my book will have a sequel, there will be some questions that won’t be answered at the end of this book, but most of them will be tied up to form a conclusion. Try to answer at least a couple questions per chapter to appease the reader. They need to be far enough away from the answer to keep them running after it, but close enough that they can remain interested. If you want a dog to chase a rabbit, the dog has to be able to smell the rabbit.
Next steps for me are finishing this outline, choosing a chapter I want to write, doing the research for that chapter, and then writing that chapter like I would write a short story—with as much pantsing as possible to connect from point A to B. If I end up at point x, then I adjust my outline once I get stuck, and then I keep going.
Do you outline? Do you use beat sheets? Do you use them while writing? During revisions?
Ready for a never-ending, always refreshing writing prompt just waiting to inspire you?
It’s called Endless Interestingness, and it’s an endless, multidirectional stream of Flickr’s most interesting photos.
Move your mouse to scroll, and click on a photo to enlarge. You can click on one that looks inspiring, or you can challenge yourself by closing your eyes, moving your pointer about in a haphazard, childlike fashion, and clicking.
Then write a 15-Blinker on it—About 300–800 words for prose, or fewer than 30 lines for poetry.
New to Fifteen Blinks? Find out more information here.
You’ve seen it countless times—films “based on a true story” that leave out so many details, or portray things that never happened, really. Why do they do that? Aren’t we supposed to “Tell the truth and nothing but the truth,” so help us?
Not quite.
There’s a reason this is so popular.
I’ve heard from several editors that they reject a work only to have the writer cry out, “But it really happened that way!”
An agent once told Anne Lamott, “You have made the mistake of thinking that everything that has happened to you is interesting.”
What separates art from reality is a deliberate selection. A particular focus.
One thing that really bothers me about 3D movies is that I’m forced to look at what the director wants me to look at. Everything else is blurred out to simulate how human vision works. I get a certain pleasure out of watching what is going on in the background, so that annoys me. But when you’re writing, it’s a good idea to think of what you put in to your work as whatever is being focused on by a camera lens. There is always going to be a lot of other stuff going on, and hopefully you’ll always have the problem of having too many ideas, but what you select is what is important. Be very selective as a writer, especially in your rewrites. Your editor and your readers will thank you.
“A writer paradoxically seeks the truth and tells lies every step of the way. It’s a lie if you make something up. But you make it up in the name of truth, and then you give your heart to expressing it clearly.”—Anne Lamott
“The truth is not distorted here, but rather a certain distortion is used to get at the truth.”—Flannery O’Connor
Sometimes we need to sacrifice the truth of specific events and details on the altar of literature. (And sometimes we need to change names and places to avoid a lawsuit.) When writing poetry or “creative nonfiction,” you can change small things. You can leave some things out, like the historians and journalists do, but in fiction you can also create new details. Add symbols, edit dialogue, change details to suit the greater truth of the piece, that is, the theme. Chances are you won’t realize the theme until after your first draft, which is why you practice and you rewrite.
“Telling the truth in an interesting way turns out to be about as easy and pleasurable as bathing a cat. Some lose hope.”—Anne Lamott
Take a true event—an event you remember vividly—and write about it, being selective of what you include. Length: About 300–800 maximum words for prose, or fewer than 30 lines for poetry.
Decide what needs to remain “under the water” in the iceberg of your story. Print out my Storyberg worksheet here.
Read “Polaroids” by Anne Lamott, if you can. If you can’t, buy a copy of Bird by Bird and then read it. Then take a news article and rewrite it creatively. Think especially about focus, selectivity, and theme. Length: About 300–800 maximum words for prose, or fewer than 30 lines for poetry.
Play Pottermore, and realize just how much Rowling wrote but left out of the Harry Potter novels.
Click any Fifteen Links button to be taken to the most recent Fifteen Blinks post.
Lara Willard 