January 17, 2007
MAPPING A WALK INTO THE MISTY WOODS
Warning - long post ahead …
TO PLOT — OR NOT
I’ve always thought there was certain romance, a mystique, that went with being a ‘pantster’ instead of a ‘plotter’ — a fog walker who just sits down in front of her blank page and begins to write into the mist, feeling her way, letting her story emerge from her fingertips, letting her characters evolve from the letters as they fall onto the page and she types all the way to ‘the end’.
But I can’t do it that way. I’m a plotter — as plodding as that sounds. Yet I believe I still *do* fog walk, it’s just that my mist-walking happens up in my head, pre-writing, and not down on the page as I write.
My story evolves over time in my mind, a bit here, a bit there. A character jumps out at me while I’m watching the news. Another winks at me from a face in a crowd. A child running in the wind catches my imagination. A plot point suddenly hits me while I’m chopping onions. An emotion — sadness, happiness, loneliness, anger – will trigger something in my brain. And all of sudden all those disparate images and sensations start rapidly slotting into an overall image in my head that makes my adrenaline literally hum – a peculiar ‘tingle-zing’ that tells me: “Aha! You have got a story, girl!” And it’s exactly at that point that I need to act fast — I grab a piece of paper, a napkin, the back of a brochure, my keyboard, anything. And I sit down and furiously type — or write freehand — like a maniac, hearing the voices, seeing the images, until I have my characters captured, fully-fleshed on paper. My beginning, my middle, my end have been pinned down. So have my major turning points, my crises, my big black moment, key scenes and snippets of dialogue … all nailed down on paper.
This ‘ramble’ as I call it, I believe is my mist-walk or discovery draft. It’s sometimes up to around 50 pages or so in length, and it’s written in its entirety in that single flush of exhilaration. And then I sit back with a satisfied feel, and breathe out, because I have managed to net the story concept before the disparate wisps separate from the whole image and flit from my mind. Which it invariably does.
It’s from this mad-untidy discovery draft that the tone, themes and premise of my story begin to emerge. It’s also at this point that I try to refine the core conflict between my two romantic protagonists, and I attempt to whittle the core concept of the story down into a one- or two-sentence statement.
From this point (and my process is continually evolving) I usually map out my book on a chapter chart. To make my chapter chart I figure out my target word count (necessary when writing series romance), then I divide said word count into chapters. I paste a couple of blank pages together and mark them into squares, one for each chapter. Then I jot down which key scenes will basically fall into which chapters in the book – usually penciling in about 3 key scenes per chapter.
I’ll also pencil in the major emotional turning points in the developing romance – first sight, first touch, first internal admission of attraction/love etc, and I’ll make sure these relationship elements twist tightly into the plot. From here I can usually see if I have too little, or too much (and it’s usually too much :) ) story to fill my target book length (at the moment SRS/SIMs). I can also ensure that will be enough happening to avoid a saggy middle, that the pacing will work, and that that the big black moment will fall in a spot that leaves enough room for denouement etc.
I then sit down and write the first chapter or two, or maybe three, and while I’m doing that, I will continually refine and rework my ‘chapter chart’ as things emerge and change. I’ll also make notes on character, setting, jot down ideas that jump into my head, make notes of what I need to research etc. And from here (or simultaneously) I write my synopsis, pretty much using my ‘ramble’ and my chapter chart as a guide.
I usually learn some key things about my characters and the story while working through those first couple of scenes, and this in turn will be reflected in the synop, and changed on the chapter chart. From this point I can pull together, and submit, a formal proposal (synop and three chapters) with absolute confidence that the story will work for me (and of course hope desperately that it also connects with my editor and target line)
Then I write the rest of the book – following my map, my true north (my chapter chart and synopsis). And this is where I find I can really relax into individual scenes, the setting, and ‘hear’ the dialogue without worrying that the scene won’t go anywhere, that it doesn’t have a purpose, or that I’ll either run out of words before I reach the end of the book, or have way too many. At this point, because of my map, because I have already groped my way through the mist, I can pretty easily write a chapter a day, or more.
I do take little detours off my main map, and if those detours take me somewhere serious, or surprising, or exciting, I can always revise the map and re-set the compass. But yes, I do like to plot my route and have my basic goal/destination in mind.
And yes, I still find true mist walkers absolutely fascinatingly mysterious. Sometimes I find it tough to believe authors actually do it this way, book after contracted book — because how can you possibly write a standard proposal (synopsis and three chapters) if you truly have no idea where in the mist your story is going? But somehow they do. And I have enough published friends who say they write this way to prove it.
You sorry you asked, yet, Ellen? 
