I’ve been doing a home improvement project these past few weeks, and the process has got me to thinking about tools. That Black and Decker mouse sander; it looked like a toy when my parents gave it to me a few years back, but that thing has saved me so much time and energy. Laser levels, jigsaw, drill press. I’ve used them all over the past month. And when it comes to modeling, forget about it. I’ve got enough files, knives, and airbrushes to populate a small hobby shop.
Ever since reading King’s “On Writing”, I tend to think of writing habits and tricks as tools. He builds on the whole metaphor of a toolbox throughout much of that text. I won’t go into the details because I think most writers are at least aware of that book, but if you haven’t read it do yourself a favor and pick it up sometime.
In that light, I picked up a new writing tool recently. Outlines. To me the word conjures images of small junior high school desks and desperately trying to think of a research paper topic. But, it seems that there are writers who swear by them. I prefer the so-called “organic” approach, where the writer gets an idea and some characters in an initial situation and then simply writes and sees what happens. That isn’t to say that I don’t have an idea of where my stories are going; I usually have an idea of the final scene of a story and writing becomes an exercise in seeing if I can get there. My novel started as a Coca-Cola and Fritos induced dream of the final chapter, but the path to that final scene was completely unknown to me.
As such, I’d never given outlines much thought. But then as I began to edit more and more stories, I discovered what I called the “post-outline”. I started it with my novel; took it out and did a chapter-by-chapter and scene-by-scene breakdown in outline form. I was surprised how much easier it made it for me to think about the piece and what I wanted to change in it. Everything’s right there in front of you.
“Well of course it’s right there in front of you, dufus,” some of you are saying. It’s just one of those things that never occurred to me until I actually did it for myself. It’s a great tool to be able to read through a story’s outline and move around single-sentence scene descriptions to see how they mesh in different ways. It also allows me to move around scenes, something that was verboten in my mind before this process came along – chapters were constructed as such and not to be tampered with. In the past two weeks I’ve had a major breakthough on one short story and in my novel revisions, because I now allow myself to move scenes around, because I can see the bigger picture all at a glance.
Since I discovered this for myself I have found out that it is in no way an original idea (I’m just great at re-inventing the wheel). Evidently Nancy Kress has been quoted as saying that a novel’s first draft is nothing more than a wordy outline, and at ReaderCon this year I attended a panel on storyboarding that put forward the outlining method as a good troubleshooting tool for completed pieces. The ReaderCon panel was also especially helpful with my chapter stigma. Simply don’t use them, they say. And after using the outlining method, and seeing how Dan Brown constructed “The Da Vinci Code” with what are essentially sequences of scenes and no chapters, I can see the merit.
So I have a new tool. It’s not as shiny as the airbrush I purchased last month, but hopefully it’ll be just as useful.
As a devotee of the outline myself, I’m happy you’ve finally seen the light! (Even if it only as a post-writing “diagnostic” tool).
I’ve been cursed by a tendency to over-rely on outlines during the actual writing process. Often, I won’t write a word of a story but will spend days and weeks working on the outline. When I’ve completed an outline I’m happy with, I consider the story “written”–except for the writing part. :)As a result, sometimes the plot in my stories seems a bit forced or characters do things that don’t feel right. (Other times it works perfectly).
Lately I’ve been trying to write in more of a stream of consciousness mode, as others do. But usually after a few pages of floundering, I’ll sit down and outline.
What works for some doesn’t work for others. Lately, I’ve found I know the ending to my short stories before they begin. The fun is in fleshing out the details. I suppose you could say I’m outlining in my head. My novel was different. I sort of knew the end, but really just meandered randomly to get there. You all know the result. Lots of superfluous scenes and a sense of indirection. With the help from your crits, I’ve honed down the story to its essentials, and I think it’s better for it. In a sense, I think you guys “outlined” the problems for me.
I should also add that to finish the first draft of the novel, I had to outline because I had a half dozen characters that needed to complete their plot arcs. When I wrote it all down, the plot suddenly fell together in what I think it a fantastic way.
Do you remember the scene where Los Tao and Grundida’s ships collide at the end?
What I’m finding works best for me is a combination of steam of consciousness initially, and then going over that with an outline form to edit afterwards. The cool thing is they are both completely different experiences. I like the stream of conscious method because I don’t put any limits on what I write. If it turns out to be superfluous and useless, then I’ll realize that and cut it during the more structured edits. And the structure of those edits appeals to my meticulous side that works with models, photography, etc.
Matt, I’m not sure if I remember that scene or not. I remember it flying into a rapidly compressing point, but no collision.