How to Write Without Writing

What if everything you did mattered?

What if you chose to make every aspect of your day a part of your creative practice?

Standing in line at the post office is an opportunity to witness the people around you. Notice the way they dress, the expression on their faces, the smells around you, the weight of the package beneath your own arms.

Walking the dog is an opportunity to listen to an educational podcast about the writing craft, publishing or marketing advice, or you could listen to an inspiring interview with an author you love. Better yet, listen to an audio book that fills you with so many exciting ideas that you want to cut Fido’s walk short, head home, and write!

Cooking dinner is an opportunity to reflect on your narrative and to challenge your own assumptions about the work. How could you add more tension to chapter five? Could you move chapter one to the middle of the book? What significant events happened to your protagonist when they were a teenager? What’s their star sign? How could you have written today’s scene different?

There’s a rumpled shirt beside the hamper in the bathroom. How could you describe that differently? Could it become a metaphor for your protagonist’s sense of defeat following their trials?

A conversation in the grocery store could be the start of a short story. The last thing my mother said to me was, “If you don’t put those pickles back on the shelf I’m going to leave you here!”

A comment made by a well-meaning aunt at your niece’s graduation could be the inspiration of an article. So, what next?

A comment made by a nosey grandmother could be the inspiration for an essay. The benefits of only having one child, sorry Gramps!  

Maybe you do all of these things naturally. Maybe you’re constantly paying attention to your environment, observing the people and conversations around you, considering your bodily senses as you travel throughout your day. Maybe you frequently ask yourself the question, “what if … ?”

A writer needs two things (okay, a writer probably need MUCH more than two things, but for the sake of argument): 

1) a rich interior life

2)  a keen observation of the world around them.

This is how you make your writing fresh and invigorating.

This is how you create prose that is poignant and poetic.

This is how you write stories that are thunderously gripping and yet totally believable (because we want to believe).

It is all too easy to fill these opportunities in other ways: we pull out our phones, and we get caught up in our own mindless, repetitive thought loops.

Do you really need to think about your route home or mentally rehearse the steps involved in cooking tonight’s dinner? You know where you live. You know how to cut an onion. 

What you don’t know — what you may be missing out on — is why the cashier’s eyes are red rimmed and misty, what would push a mother to abandon her small child in a grocery store, what the benefits of having one child are, and how to make your partner’s inability to put dirty clothes in the hamper a metaphor for … something.

Open your eyes. Look up, to the left. Can you see? Tell me all about it.


New Project = New Process

I recently started drafting the novel that will become the creative component of my doctorate thesis. Although I’ve previously written one full-length novel, three novellas and numerous short stories, I found myself asking the question: “How the heck do you do this?” 

The truth is, my fiction writing muscles have become a little rusty. In the past six months, most of my focus has been on the craft of academic papers, assignments and my thesis. As part of honours, I was required to submit a novella, but most of the past six months were spent editing that story – not drafting. It’s a lot easier to edit a first draft than to write a first draft.

I have confronted the dreaded blank page many times in the last six months in the writing of the previously mentioned papers, but it is far easier to write non-fiction than it is to write fiction.

Non-fiction has a set structure and a particular voice. There is the introduction, a body that contains a clear argument and a conclusion. Each paragraph should start with a topic sentence and a concluding one that ideally, leads to the next paragraph. It must have a distinct voice, whether it be your natural speaking voice or one that is appropriate to the topic or in-house style guide. Non-fiction must be backed up by fact, whether that it be in the form of research or experience. Through trial and error, most of us established a set process on how best to write non-fiction pieces.

I start with a vague question or area of interest. Then I read. A lot. I make note of useful papers and record exciting or relevant quotes. This stage goes on until I sense that I have read enough material. Usually, that means I’ve started to notice links and connections between the sources and my own ideas or question. Key ideas become heading and each heading is given a particular word count. Then it’s basically paint by numbers. A conclusion is added and then the introduction. That’s my process. And it works. Your non-fiction process is likely different from mine, but I bet it’s pretty much the same every time.

Fiction does not adhere to set processes. Don’t get me wrong, I have a process, but I also enjoy messing with that process and challenging it. Fiction writing is creative after all, right?

I wrote my first novel with no outline and no character profiles. What guided me was an idea I had for a pivotal scene, the kind that happens towards the end of a novel. All I had to do was figure out how my characters got there. Of course, the first draft was a complete mess! By writing an outline, timeline and distinct character profiles, I was able to see all that was wrong with the manuscript and then fix it. Since then, I’ve written three novellas. For these, I used skeleton outlines (paragraph summaries of each chapter) while simultaneously writing character profiles. This worked better, but of course, there were still a few hick-ups. And in case you’re wondering, there will always be hick-ups! For my honours project, I decided to write a really detailed outline which quickly became the first draft, but because I was so intent on figuring out the structure and logic of the story, I spent little time developing the characters. It was only later during the editing phase that I constructed the character profiles that helped transform them from puppets to people.

For my latest project, it felt right to construct a (very) loose outline and a complete set of character profiles before beginning the first draft. I’ve set a word count for each day, and after I hit that word count I spend five-minutes brainstorming what will happen next. These ‘mini’ outlines are roughly one hundred words and are a great launching pad for the next writing session.

Now, for a word on word counts. For this project, I decided to set a fairly low daily word count. When writing the first draft, I usually prefer to get the ‘crappy’ first draft done as quickly as possible so that I can then get onto the next task: fixing it. Sometimes that meant writing 4,000-6,000 words a day. And that is not very enjoyable. This approach also zaps your energy and it usually affects your productivity the following day. So for this project, I’ve decided to end my writing sessions before I become exhausted. This way, I stay hungry and excited about the story.

I’m currently 15,000 words into the first draft. Though I know the general trajectory of the story, I will not hold the story to this outline if it no longer feels right. Stories have a mind of their own. They have their own natural and logical flow. If you show up and do the work, inevitably, the story will tell you how to write it. For instance, I started this draft with the intention of using a rotating, first-person point of view. And it totally didn’t work. So, I changed to third person. And so far, so good. Under the guise of ease, I set the story in a town I once lived in, but by the time I hit 10,000 words I was totally bored. Frankly, writing about a town I once lived in made me a little uncomfortable. It was too close to home and I didn’t enjoy seeing my fictional characters tromping around the stomping grounds of my past.

So, in 15,000 words, I’ve already realised that the setting and POV aren’t working.

You can plan and plot all you like, but sometimes, you don’t know whether or not something is actually going to work until you start writing. That’s ok though. I’ve worked on enough projects to know that I’m presently at the bottom of the hill that is my story. Though I can make an assumption about what the view from the top will look like, chances are that my expectation will differ from reality. The only way to find out though is to climb.