#TheProcess - Narrative

 Posting anything right now feels about like Blogging While Rome burns, but I think everyone here is here for a good dose of distraction and entertainment, so I'll try to keep active anyway. 

Today is part two of "The Process..."

Narrative

I’ve decided to break the meat-and-potatoes “writing” portion of the process into smaller segments, because while I’m doing a number of things simultaneously, it’ll be easier to talk about it all in more discrete posts. So today I’ll be talking about the storytelling aspect of the process, and will focus on the prose (word choice and sentence structure) in a later post.

*Also, I think it’s important to note that as an indie author, I’ve been able to tailor my approach accordingly Hopefully, blogging about my process will offer insight as to creative decisions and personal priorities, but I am in no way suggesting that my approach is suitable for anyone attempted to become traditionally published.

Okay, onward.

As I mentioned last time, every story begins with character for me. Once I know who I’m writing about, and what he or she wants, I can plot the novel from there. At the outset of any book, or series, I know what the final outcome will be, I know the emotional beats that need to happen with each character, and have a few scenes that are bright, crystalline, and necessary in my mind. I don’t ever work off an outline, though. For me, when I say that I’m “plotting” or “story-mapping,” that means I’m going for a walk, listening to music, and planning scenes mentally. Sometimes I take notes when I get back to a notebook, but, generally, once I’ve choreographed a scene in my head, I’m ready to move forward with it once I’m in front of the computer again. Cleaning stalls, cleaning house, going for a drive, taking a shower – all perfect times for creative breakthroughs. The scene plays out like a movie trailer, complete with background music and close-ups, in my head, and then it’s a matter of trying to capture that perfectly.

But, I’m getting ahead of myself. Story. George R.R. Martin has described his process in a way that resonates with me: he said his approach to plot is a bit like tending a garden. He plants the seeds and lets them grow as they will, rather than adhering to a strict outline. That’s how I do it, too; I’ve always described it as a very organic approach, one that grows and shifts and allows for the unexpected, with an emphasis always placed on character integrity and continuity. Instead of playing God and throwing things at characters to see how they react, the characters’ decisions, and their consequences, drive the story forward.

This is why it’s so important to really get to know each character. Once I understand the way they think and behave, once the various conflicts have been established, the story unfolds in a way that, even while writing it, feels very natural and appropriate, and I don’t feel like a puppet master pulling on strings. If I don’t feel the strings, the audience won’t see them. My main rule is this: always treat the characters like real people with minds of their own. It doesn’t matter what I would do in a given situation, or what the reader would do; doesn’t matter what the smartest, safest approach would be. All that matters is what that character would say or do, and the rest is irrelevant.

(I’ve never understood that line of book criticism from readers. “Well, I would have…” Are you in this book? No, you’re not. “Walsh is too short for me.” It’s a good thing you aren’t the one sleeping with him, then. “They had unsafe sex, and this sets a bad example for young people.” It’s a good thing I’m not writing a sex safety manual, isn’t it? I’ve learned you can be true to your characters, or you can try to make your characters appealing and “safe” for a broad audience. I’ve chosen the former.)

Take the Drake Chronicles, for example. I knew that Erik and Oliver would get together, but I didn’t have each scene planned out ahead of time. Instead, knowing each of them well enough, their conversations unfolded as I penned them, often taking turns I hadn’t expected, but which felt right in the moment. I knew from the first that Tessa would choose Rune over Leif, and that Leif’s main, personal conflict that would carry throughout the series is the inner turmoil that comes with knowing you’re an heir to a kingdom. It’s a conflict that, in the early stages, is mild and a little bit boring because he’s essentially a good and loyal guy without vices. It wasn’t until partway through writing book two that I finalized the idea of having him become a skinwalker. Now, with a genuine “inner demon,” or wolf, rather, and a complicated relationship to Ragnar, his self-doubt has been elevated to much higher, more dramatic levels, and it’s something he’ll wrestle with for the rest of the series. It would have been, in a general sense, the “smart thing” to execute Ragnar and be done with it – but there’s no conflict in that. Dealing with Ragnar is far more interesting then occasionally regretting having sentenced him to death. It also goes against Leif’s personality: it’s not that he can’t make a hard decision, but, like him or not, Ragnar is family. That complicates the decision, and Leif is nothing if not thoughtful. Rune’s the rash one, of the two.

I think it’s essential that, if asked, I’m able to fully explain a character’s thought process. When I think about the movies and TV shows produced in the past decade, the ones that have hotly divided fandoms and spawned petitions, the writers/directors/producers often explained their thought processes…but not the characters’. “We wanted to surprise the audience.” “We wanted to shock everyone.” Cool, but can you explain why that surprising, shocking twist is supported by the characters’ thoughts and actions? You have to be thinking about the character and not the audience when you’re writing. If you want to draw a genuine reaction from the audience, you have to put the work into the characterization. Remember how Benioff and Weiss kept chickening out of interviews post-GOT? Throughout the show, in post-episode interviews, they continued to talk about what they wanted the audience to think/feel, but could never back this up with any sort of meaningful discussion about the characters and their motivations. Instead, character’s personalities, morals, and motivations shifted suddenly in order to make certain plot poinst possible. Game of Thrones comes to mind. Sons of Anarchy. The Marvel Cinematic Universe. It’s an endless list.

If someone asks about the motivation of a character, about his or her growth and progression throughout a story, and a writer says the character’s actions “allowed” for a shocking scene, it means they were putting plot before character, with no regard for logic or continuity.

Grievances with mega media corporations aside, I think maintaining a character’s integrity is the most important aspect of my job as a writer. I always ask myself what a certain character would do and say in a given situation, and there are hard “no”s to contend with. Sometimes a concept is interesting, but impossible given what we already know about a character. Mercy would never cheat on Ava. Michael would never sing karaoke. Erik would never send his men into battle without being at the front of the charge. “Maybe”s do exist, but in those instances, I ask myself how that “maybe” will affect every member of the ensemble cast. Some ideas have merit, but wind up getting scrapped because it throws a wrench in the works down the line somewhere.

Storytelling is, at its core, the act of introducing characters and detailing their adventures and relationships as they work through various conflicts. I take a character-driven approach; for me, it’s more important that a character’s personal struggles and relationships follow a logical, satisfying course than it is for the plot to move quickly or in “shocking” directions. It means that my books tend to run long, and that they are populated with quiet, domestic scenes and conversations. Commercial fiction often moves along at a faster clip, but I’m not writing commercial fiction; for me, it’s most important to deliver those satisfying, slow-burn character narratives, some of which take the entire span of a series to play out.

The way to keep that interesting is through the prose itself, which I’ll discuss in my next post.