R.W. Krpoun's Blog, page 35

The act of writing is a complex one and in my opinion unique to each author. I expect that somewhere there is an author(s) who has a plot, characters, and setting emerge into their higher functions whole and sound as a single woven piece, merely needing the mechanics of inscribing it onto the page.

That’s not me.

 I say that with sadness as I would love to be that guy.

 Instead I ponder, muse, day-dream, and worry at slender threads of inspiration and the occasional low-wattage flash of inspiration as I slog through my days. Driving, walking (a favored activity of mine), and the like are the most usual venues for such dynamic cognation as I can muster. As these fleeting inspirations hit I jot them down (as of late, laboriously type them into the Notes section of my smart phone) and go on. Eventually I laboriously piece a few of these bits and pieces together and start formulating a plot and characters. Research follows, because unlike non-fiction, fiction requires a solid underpinning of believability to succeed.

 Finally the glorious day arrives: writing! In my man-cave I crouch over my computer and start hammering out text. The first few thousand words fly from my fingers; in the really good works up to twenty-five thousand go smoothly.

 Then I hit the wall: the execution from mind and notes to text exposes flaws and weaknesses, gaps of plot and inconsistencies of character, and the project flounders. I rally, re-read what I have written, shore up the dialogue here, add description and explanation there. Word by word the count climbs, but inevitably it stalls again.

 Disgusted, I shelve the project (carefully, with many notes) and turn other projects. With luck, down the road a book, movie, or TV show may trigger an inspiration that might blossom into what will be in retrospect be an obvious solution. I return to the project and hammer away, ten thousand words a week.

 If the inspiration creates a suitable patch, I will chug faithfully until I hit about the 85% point of the novel, and therein lies the final barrier: the final countdown. By this time the project is a part of my life, and those last few thousand words represent the end of an era. My writing on that project will halt, usually for a week or two, until I can summon the strength of will to begin the end. The first few pages of this stage are difficult, but once begun they gain momentum until I flow to the ending.

 Once the rough draft is done, I set it aside and turn to other projects, letting the story ‘cool’ until it is time for the final editing and publication.

 As one might imagine my man-cave is packed with book cases and storage boxes stuffed with stalls projects, bundles of notes, research notes, reference material, and countless other aspects of my writing process.

 Its not efficient, but its what I do.