Writing Prompt

I signed up to receive writing prompts from my friend, Lisa, and I confess I’ve been doing the easy ones. She just sent me an impossible one. When I read the prompt I immediately shut down and headed for the delete button. But then I thought a moment. How would I answer that? What would I write, if it is something that immediately throws such a wall up? Talk about the ultimate writing challenge. I thought there was absolutely no way to answer her prompt, to come up with anything. That made me realize I had to try.

What was the horrible prompt?

She asked us to write a love song to our bodies.

Stifle that immediate, uncomfortable emotional response you just had. Set that aside, and pause a moment.

Could you answer that?

I figured out a way to answer it, I challenged myself to write something, and it’s nowhere near what was probably intended by the prompt. I know it’s going to upset those family and friends who read this, but keep in mind that this is my honest response to myself, right or wrong, healthy or not.  And, hey, it also made me laugh when I wrote the first line. Laughter is always a good thing.

What would be your honest response? Could you be honest? Give it a try. I dare you.

Here’s my writing prompt response, my love song to my body.

It could be worse.

 The red hair could be redder. The freckles could be frecklier. The weight could be heavier. The reflection, the view of my mother, could be clearer.

 The anger could be fury, The hurt could be betrayal. The loss could be permanent. The sense of not getting ahead could be falling behind.

 Who I see might become what others see. They might quit filtering me through a lens of personality.

 A love song like this becomes an exercise in pity.

But, it could be worse.

Son, me, husband, facing the sun

Son, me, husband, facing the sun

The Pact

Recently a man I’d just met asked me about outlining. He’d heard how one author he likes outlines using post-it notes. I told him how some writers outline extensively, some outline roughly, and some are more organic, not outlining at all but allowing the characters and plot to unfold, so that the writer is also the first reader. He was fascinated by the idea that characters take over and have a life of their own. So the conversation then moved on to how that’s true for all writers, whether they outline or not. Outlines don’t always guarantee the story will move in the plotted direction.

Which got me thinking, of course.

I don’t outline, and have posted about that before. This conversation though, made me realize that by not outlining, I place a great deal of trust in the characters. I’m not saying that I don’t have a rough idea in my mind about who they are, and I always know what the last line of a story is before I start, so that the plot is actually discovering the path to the ending. But I trust the character to know what they want, to tell me if I’m going the wrong way, to tell me their story, and to be able to carry the plot.

People who outline also trust their characters, but it seems to me that the trust is tempered with a strong foundation. Rather like parenting, when you send your child out into the world, trusting them to do the right thing, and knowing that you have given them a strong compass. Outlines, to me, must be like that compass. Whereas, with me not outlining, I just nudge the characters off the edge and go along for the ride as they fall, or soar. (I don’t parent like that, by the way.)

Then there’s the trust between a reader and the characters. As a reader, I trust the character to be believable, to make me care about them, to make me cheer them on, and to make me live vicariously through them. I want to go along on the adventure with them, not simply be an observer, as sometimes happens in books when characters are not fully developed. To me, that problem is usually a result of the author telling me too much, and not showing me the character. So, I put a lot of faith in both the writer and the characters, when I open a new book. And there’s nothing worse than having that trust betrayed and discovering the anticipated new book is boring and flat.

Finally, there’s the pact between the reader and the author. I trust, when I pick up that new book by a favorite author, that I’m going to spend some time with old friends. That I am going to meet some new ones I’ll care about, that I’m going to be placed in a world as real as the one I live in, and I’m going to go for a great ride. I hate when that pact is broken, especially when it’s an author that I have followed for a long time. Yes, it’s unrealistic to expect someone to put out a book at 100% every time, but then I never said my trust was realistic. Especially when it comes to my favorite authors.

This makes me realize how much there is between writer, reader, and characters. I knew it was a strong bond before, of course, but I just never thought too much about it from the trust angle.

So do you feel that sense of trust in the author or characters when you pick up a book? Why do you trust, or not trust? I’d love to know as it will help me as a writer.

Soaring with feet on the ground

Soaring with feet on the ground

Stubborn Characters

I’ve said this before, but I have fun with Yahoo Answers. I go to the books and authors section and read posts about writing. I answer quite a few, and in answering am forced to pause and think and learn. I see many topics that come up repeatedly. Some of the very, very common questions include ‘what should I name my character’, ‘what do you think of my story’, ‘I want to be a writer but need an idea’, ‘how do I get published’, ‘can I write a story when I’m only twelve’ and so on, each one so earnestly asked and so deserving of time.

The most recent one I saw asked for tips on how to develop a stubborn character. The person wanted to know what to do with an annoying character that refused to have the personality the questioner wanted.

Sounds like my kind of character. Or at least some of my friends. Stubborn, unique, individual, doing what they want. I like the character already.

Seriously though, I responded because I think all writers have had that happen. Matter of fact, those can be the best characters because they don’t do what we want.

There can be so many reasons for this. One thing I usually ask first, is if I am trying to force a particular character into the wrong role. Sometimes that character belongs in a different part of the story.

It reminds me of the time my friend (and author) Susan Schreyer, had problems with this one very meek character who just wasn’t doing what Susan wanted. Turned out this very meek character actually wanted to be the villain. When Susan realized that, the whole story took on a different shape and pieces fell into place.

Sometimes the character won’t do what you want because you let personal feelings get in the way. I actually had a character who reminded me of someone I did not care for. I so wanted that character to be the villain. Vicarious revenge. I struggled with the plot line until I realized that my personal emotions had to get out of the way of the character, and then the story line developed easier. Kind of the opposite problem that Susan had.

Sometimes it’s as simple as the writer not having fully developed the character, so that the character isn’t understood.

And sometimes the plot develops in a way that pulls out action from the character that the writer didn’t plan for.

There are so many reasons for something like this to happen. But it brings home to me just how wonderful it is when a character is so alive that they become a life outside of our expectations. If the character is alive like that, then I’m willing to bet the story will be, too.

 

Not a character in a story, but still a character.

Not a character in a story, but still a character.