Bubble Outlines

Susan Schreyer and I talked a while back about outlining, a subject that actually comes up a lot. She outlines; I don’t. So I said. But Susan suggested that I do outline and challenged me to think about what my outlining process is.

And guess what? She’s right. I’ve blogged about that on this site but it’s worth bringing up again because I also recently read an article by Ruth Harris on the same thing.

So if I don’t outline, how do I outline? Well, as I’ve said before, I daydream a story. I’ll go for walks in the woods and let the subconscious take over. In daydreaming the story I watch it in my imagination similar to watching a movie.

Then there’s this. Typically, about half way in to the work in progress, I draw some bubbles. It’s about the point in writing that I start feeling like I’m losing control of plot threads, or getting a bit confused about subplots.

Here’s what I pause and do:

dsc_0219

 

Remember, I’m not artistic. I can’t draw. Some of my artist friends would make something prettier. But this works for me.

In the center is the protagonist. Around her are bubbles for each subplot and each character. The subplots get a color. This allows me to quickly see any subplot that doesn’t connect to the protagonist, or to the main plot. Each character also has to tie to the protagonist. In this current drawing, some characters have a color because the character is a subplot, too. This also allows me to quickly see if the character exists for a reason.

For example, in the bubbles above, which you may not be able to see very well, there are two characters, Sunny, and Cell. They’re kind of floating out there by themselves, with only a line to the protagonist. When I drew this out, I realized that they are in one scene specifically to give Cody a moment of respite. They don’t tie into any subplot, or even the main plot.

I can tell from this that I need to find a reason for them to be in this story that’s stronger than me simply enjoying these two characters from past books. If I can’t fit them in somehow then, during the revision stage, that scene of respite will have to be rewritten. Sunny and Cell may just have to wait until the next book.

When I draw out these bubbles at about the mid-point of a work in progress, I end up feeling more in control. Or at least, as much control as my imagination/subconscious will allow. Now, as I continue writing, I will periodically go back to these bubbles to remind myself who needs to be involved in a scene, where a subplot is headed, etc.

So there’s how I outline.

 

Back to School

A few days ago I heard about a writing course offered by the University of Iowa. The course is called ‘How Writers Write Fiction 2016: Storied Women’. In reading the course information I could tell it was way above my level of writing. I made a comment about that and received a response saying that I shouldn’t worry, even undergraduates took the course.

schooldeskrowwebsternewyork

Back to school (image from wiki commons)

Talk about a plummet down the steep slope of lack of confidence. Immediately the inner critic jumped into action. Normally I name the inner critic ‘mom’ but I think I need to rename it ‘Super Antagonist’ as it’s my single biggest source of conflict.

I heard these things. Well, there you go; you’re not even an undergraduate. You’re not good enough. You’ll fail. You’ll be seen publicly as not being able to write. You call yourself a writer but you only took one creative writing college course and hated it. 

In my defense we were told to write about a peanut and then failed if it was humorous rather than existential. An existential peanut. Think about that a moment. My peanut was not existential.

On and on and on. Same old familiar tune.

So what did I do? I got smart. I told my husband.

Why is that smart? Because I have learned over the years that he is a master at talking me into things. This is what he said. That he knew me and once I started the course I’d love it. That I was better than I believed. That he knew my author friend Susan Schreyer would be my support and back up during the course. And so on. The kind of pep talk I needed.

I signed up.

I then emailed Susan to tell her my husband talked me into registering because she’d be my support system. And how did she respond?

By telling me that my husband had now manipulated her into signing up. I thought she’d already registered but it turns out she’d been hesitant, too.

He got us both. Two for one pep talk.

And now my Super Antagonist is whispering ‘you can always quit if you have to’. But hey, I’m registered. And so is Susan. So we’re good. Right?

steep_slopes_an_caisteal_-_geograph-org-uk_-_776774

Those steep, slippery slopes. This is An Caisteal in Britain, from wiki commons

Paper and the Art of Hoarding

Yesterday I explained to my husband (in a very frustrated tone) how I feel our house is never clean. I’d just finished cleaning. All day. He looked a little confused, standing on freshly mopped floors. As an aside, my husband is one of those guys who cleans, too – always willing to do dishes, mop, laundry, etc. I pointed out to him all the ‘deep cleaning’ nooks and crannies such as window tracks, that never seem to get done. I ranted about how I hate that, how after a day of cleaning there’s no energy left to really clean. How stuff piles up.

animals-063

One of the reasons a house needs cleaning – a dog that sleeps on tables!

I swear I saw his eyes roll toward my office.

Hey now. As my mother would have said, he’s stopped preaching and started meddling.

Okay, I admit, there’s some paper in there.

Yesterday my husband asked for a notepad. I pointed him in the direction of a banker box stuffed full of blank notepads. I mean, you never know when the zombie apocalypse is going to happen and the world runs out of paper, right? Plus, every writer out there knows that moment at the store when your eye is pulled against your will toward a beautiful new notepad with blank pages just waiting for the magic of just the right pen.

Which leads to the slightly smaller box of pens.

And then, as every writer also knows, there are a few more boxes. Scraps of paper with notes on them. Ideas for stories. Quotes. Bits of over-heard dialog you might be able to use some day. Stories that died but might be repairable. Beginnings that ended. Stories that are absolutely fantastic and will be best-seller material…after years of heavy revision.

Some winter day I’m going to build a fire, make some tea, and go through those boxes. After all, how can I utilize those scraps of dialog if they’re buried under boxes and within piles of paper?

dscf2298

I suppose every artist collects scraps of the medium that makes them who they are. But I believe writers excel at hoarding that paper. If there’s a writer that doesn’t, I’d like to hear about it.

Though I won’t believe them.