Category: guru

Well, here we are in the far flung sci-fi future year of 2025. The year of Pacific Rim, as I mentioned in the newsletter the other day. What? You’re still not subbed to the newsletter? Well, there’s your first thing to do this year.

Anyway, first ranty blog post of the year (and already running late). What to write about? I’ve already planned out a lot of my year, writing-wise, and maybe so have you. Or maybe not. No worries there, either way. This is my job, so I’ve got to schedule things to some extent. You may have a lot more leeway. Heck, writing might be your zero-stress after work cool-down thing. If that’s how you like to do it, that’s great. What works for you works for you.

I’ve had a couple possible topics bouncing around in my head for two weeks now. And in that time I’ve seen a lot of other folks offering their own start-of-the-year advice nuggets. And that got me thinking even more…

So, look, some of you may be thinking of finally writing that novel. 2025 is the year we’re getting it done. Maybe we’re starting from scratch. Could be we’ve had a few false starts. Maybe some of it’s already done and this is the year we finish it.

And it’s possible, as I mentioned above, that you’re seeing all sorts of advice and encouragement from different folks.

They’ll tell you not to worry about how much you write every day. Don’t worry about how often you write. And don’t worry about spelling. Don’t worry about grammar, either. Don’t worry about structure. Don’t worry about getting the facts right. None of that matters! What matters is the writing! Which, uh, you don’t have to do today.

And it may cross your mind after some of this, well, hang on. What the heck am I doing? If none of this stuff matters… I mean, what am I supposed to do? Seriously?

This is a little tricky to understand because technically all of this is true, but it’s true at different points in the process and in different ways. If I apply all of these rules (or lack of rules, I guess) evenly throughout my whole process, I can be doing more harm than good.

For example, I’ve talked about first drafts and forward motion—just getting it done. That’s how I tend to write. I won’t worry about spelling or formatting and it’s really common for me to leave notes to myself about checking if this is correct and how that actually works. So at this point in the process… yeah, don’t worry about any of that stuff.

But this doesn’t mean I never worry about these things. It’s more a question of when I worry about them. Personally, I tend to clean most of this up in my second draft, and I’m usually still adjusting it in my third. Because these things matter. No, really, they do.

A lot of this is going to boil down to what I want to do with my writing. What are my end goals, so to speak. Is it my after-work cool down? A personal project? Maybe something I want to share on a Reddit thread or Wattpad. Am I going to self-publish it? Am I hoping a traditional press will pick this up?

Y’see Timmy, the truth is when I’m at home, the park, the office, the library, on the train, or wherever it is that I do most of my writing… I can do whatever I want. Seriously. When it’s just me and my keyboard, absolutely no rules apply. Whatever I want, however I want, for as long as I want. That’s my process, and nobody can say my process is wrong or weird or whatever.

But…

If I want to send something out into the world, to put it in front of other people’s eyes—especially people I’m hoping will give me money—I need to start seriously thinking about all of this stuff. That’s when I do need to worry about spelling. I definitely want to double check my grammar. And triple-check my facts. And if I’ve got a deadline, I absolutely need to be considering how much I’m writing and how often I’m writing. Because these things will matter to other people. They’ll matter to different degrees for different people, but they will matter.

And the more chances I give people to say “that’s wrong” are more chances they’re going to set my story aside and move on to something else.

So, yeah, write freely. Don’t be concerned about things. Just write.

But be aware we’re just deferring that concern till later. Not saying goodbye to it forever.

Next time…

Well, heck, like I was saying. Start of the year. new projects and new goals all around. Is there anything specific I could cover for anyone? Something that’s been gnawing at you, a topic where you’d really like some kind of advice or tips or encouragement? Let me know down in the comments and I’ll make that happen for you.

And until then… go write.

It strikes me that if I’m going to keep doing this biweekly (which I have to admit, I’m kind of liking right now with everything else I’ve got going on) it feels like a much bigger shift when I suddenly swap topics for the week. Apologies if the last post threw you a bit.

But getting back on track…

If you’ve been writing, or even thinking about writing, for any amount of time, you’ve probably heard someone talk about three act structure. Doesn’t matter if you’re working on novels, screenplays, or short stories, I’m willing to bet you’ve come across this term or had it pushed at you.

Now, I’m a big believer in three-act structure. I think a good number of flawed stories can tie their problems back to it. Or more specifically, to a lack of it.

But I also believe three act-structure gets misunderstood a lot. And I think there are a lot of folks out there arguing for (or against) three-act structure who… well, don’t have any clue what they’re talking about.

It’s also important to note right up front that three-act structure doesn’t quite fit in with the other story structures I’ve talked about in the past—linear, dramatic, and narrative. Another one it gets confused with a lot is the five act structure that a lot of network dramas have (which leads some gurus to champion six- or seven-act structure or some such nonsense). But this type of structure is just an artifice of the way commercials are arranged in a time slot. Again, not really related to three act, linear, dramatic, or narrative structures.

I think these distinctions cause some confusion when folks start talking about structure. Because structure sounds like it should be one topic and not lots and lots of different, just-barely-connected things. It’s a type of story structure, but it’s not the same kind of story structure, if that makes sense? It’s like how an apartment can have a plumbing system and an electrical system, but we all understand they’re very much not the same kind of system even though they’re part of the same overall thing (the apartment).

So what is three- act structure? Well, I think I can explain it to you in pretty simple terms. Ready with the notebooks?

A good story has a beginning, a middle, and an end.

That’s three act structure.

No, seriously. That’s pretty much it. Three act structure in a nutshell.

Okay, fine, if we want to go into a little more detail…

In storytelling we have names for each of these three acts. And again, you’ve probably heard them before. We call them establishing the norm, introducing conflict, and then resolution.

Establishing the norm is just what it sounds like. We show our audience (our readers in our case) how things are on a normal day. This is when my characters go to work, pay bills, spend time with their loved ones, and so on. It’s when we often find them at their most relatable. It’s me, the storyteller, establishing a baseline so my readers understand when something amazing happens.

Remember that everybody has their own “usual day.” For me a usual day is taking care of cats, sitting at my desk, and maybe just posing an action figure or two on said desk. But for someone in Kenya or Palestine or stationed at the South Pole… well, their usual day is likely going to be different than mine. Heck, for Wade Wilson, a usual day probably involves a lot more severed limbs, gunfire, and decapitations, while for someone in Starfleet there’s scanning and analyzing and maybe some synthohol at the end of their shift. A usual day for someone is all very much a matter of context.

It’s important to have some sense of this, what a normal day is like for my character, even is my story’s set right here in the real world. Because if my characters don’t have a normal day, they can’t have an abnormal day. Make sense?

Introducing conflict is when that abnormal thing happens. It means something’s knocking my characters out of their comfortable little world and forcing them to take some sort of new action. A mysterious stranger shoves a jump drive into their hands. The building manager says they’ve got to pay all their back rent by the end of the month or get evicted. Their reflection tells them they’re actually a mercenary and also the avatar of an Egyptian god. They find out Wakko—Wakko of all people—is going to ask Phoebe to the prom.

Also worth noting that conflict has to cause, well, conflict. By definition, conflict requires some kind of opposing force. It doesn’t need to be some massive, overwhelming force of non-stop action, but there needs to actually be something between my characters and them immediately dealing with this issue or problem that’s appeared during their up-until-now normal day. If I introduce a conflict that doesn’t bother my protagonist or takes no effort to deal with… I mean, that’s not actually a conflict, is it? That’s just boring. And if it’s boring to them, it’s going to be boring to my audience.

Resolution is when things get resolved. Yeah, look, it should’ve been clear up front this isn’t really that complicated. Usually because my protagonist has taken some action and made things come to an end. It’s when answers are made known, hidden things get revealed and plot threads all come together. Hopefully.

So, all clear now?

I’m a big believer that pretty much every story needs these three acts. If it’s done right, any reader can tell you when these acts begin and end in my story. And I believe that we can all instinctively tell when one of them isn’t there.

Now, there are a few caveats to all of this, of course. A lot of stories start in the middle or maybe even close to the end before they go back and explain the beginning. “In medias res” some folks like to call it. We could probably list hundreds of great examples of books and movies that do this.

The thing to remember, though, is all these stories still have a beginning, a middle, and an end, even if they’ve been juggled around a bit in how they’re told. As we’ve talked about before, the narrative structure of a story doesn’t change the linear structure. The events have a definitive starting point. The characters have a baseline the audience sees them at. There’s a progression brought about by conflict. And it all leads to a definitive conclusion.

Y’see, Timmy, a story that’s missing one of these three parts has a sort of… meandering quality to it. We’re left trying to figure out if actions and reactions are odd or normal. Characters do things without any apparent reason to do them. And geeeeez… if I try to impress an agent or editor with “to be continued” what I’m really telling them is “I don’t have an ending for this.” And they won’t be impressed.

So look at your latest story and break it down. Is there any sort of norm established? Is there a point where things deviate from the norm for the protagonist(s)? Do things actually get resolved? ‘Cause if so… you’re probably doing okay.

Next time… somebody recently asked me about working on multiple projects. I think that could be an interesting thing to talk about.

Until then, go write.

I almost didn’t do this one because I couldn’t figure out the exact way to phrase it, and it’s obviously an important one. Wouldn’t want someone to miss out because I used the wrong word. Plus, to be honest, I’m waaaaaaaay behind this week between a birthday weekend combined with StokerCon weekend and friends in town and a shingles vaccine that made me kind of useless for a day, so I almost didn’t do this at all.

But here I am. And here you are. So let’s do this.

Are you ready for the ultimate networking tip? You should probably get ready to write this down. It’s going to change everything for you. Bookmark this page, at the very least. Right now, before we go any further.

Damn. I could’ve had t-shirts made up. Finally an excuse for a merch store…

Anyway, ready? Here it is. My ultimate networking tip that’s going to make your attempts at networking so much easier, more efficient, and much, much more effective. Ready?

Stop trying to network.

Seriously.

Just stop.

I got to see a bunch of writer friends this past week, and—especially with StokerCon as the backdrop—I thought a bit about how we’d met. How we connected. And so often it was really mundane, non-writery things. My first real conversation with two writers I’m friends with was about Doctor Who (and weirdly enough, now that I think about it, both were Dalek-related). Another one was about fencing (the with-swords type). One time I was talking with someone and discovered we both had a connection to the weird little amusement park in my hometown. Plus so many chats about the film industry and different aspects of it.

And yeah, sometimes we’d talk books. Rarely our own, but other people’s we’d enjoyed or loved or perhaps even quietly been, y’know, less than impressed with. Or publishing. Many long talks about publishing, sales, marketing, social media, all that sort of stuff.

But the key thing is, I wasn’t trying to bond with them over any of this. It wasn’t a calculated ploy. It was just stuff that came up. Things we were interested in. They were the kind of casual conversations you’d have at someone’s cookout or a party or a random bar meet-up.

I know I’ve said this before but active networking is dead. It’s been dead for decades. Seriously, people were pushing it as the big secret to Hollywood success thirty years ago and you might notice that Hollywood’s still just as difficult to break in to. And then this belief slipped over into publishing circles and… well, I’m sure most of you know how easy it is to succeed in publishing these days.

Simple truth is active networking has never worked and never will. It just comes off an weird, intrusive, pushy, and sometimes just flat-out creepy. And I know some folks would respond by saying hey, if there’s only a one in a million chance of it happening, that’s still a chance! Someone just told me recently that’s how it was explained to them.

But here’s the thing. It’s also a 999,999 in a million chance of being labeled as weird, intrusive, pushy, or maybe creepy. So what do you think’ll happen when that one in a million editor/agent talks to any of their colleagues about this writer who just showed up in their mailbox…?

So stop networking. Right now. No more handing out business cards to every single person you meet. Please, please, please stop showing up places or randomly mailing things. Don’t seek people out just so they’ll carry you further along the path you want to walk. And I’m begging you not to give some guru money for their very exclusive networking event that will take your career to the next level.

Y’see, Timmy, don’t worry about networking. Just make friends. Friends you actually care about and respect and share interests with and like being with.

Believe me, we all need friends in this industry.

Next time, I’d like to talk about what happened last time.

Until then, go write.

How did I miss blog posts for all of September? What the hell? And how is it already October?

Well, okay… September was a bit of chaos for me. I was working on that Rashomon idea I mentioned last time, but I couldn’t quite get it to work the way I wanted it to, and it’s a delicate topic so I really wanted to stick the landing on that one. Then there was some work chaos and life chaos and then more work chaos (but this time on the better end of things).

Anyway, I’ve been working through all of this, but a few things slipped through the cracks. And this was one of the things. Sorry about that.

Of course, I just saw another author I’m acquainted with mention how she hasn’t sent out a newsletter in over a year. And another one I know writes more newsletters in a month that I do newsletters and blog post combined. And all of that on top of all of us juggling a few different writing projects.

It all comes down to what you can do, and what system lets you do it.

Which, hey, is a cool thing to talk about.

Look, even in our crumbling age of social media, there’s a lot of folks out there offering writing advice. And probably even more who—one way or another—are setting examples. Posting about today’s word count or their method for blocking out action scenes or plotting character arcs or whatever. And on one level, this is great. It’s wonderful to get a peek behind the curtain and get a glimpse of the artist’s process, right? I mean, that’s pretty much what I try to do here with the ranty writing blog and my newsletter.

At the same time, though…

I think it’s not always made clear that my process—the schedules and tricks and methods that work for me—is probably not going to be your process. Sometimes it seems like I’m saying everybody has to start the day with a two mile jog or three cups of coffee and if you haven’t written four pages before lunch, well, I guess it’s sort of cute that you treat this as a hobby. I mean, I’m successful and it’s what I do, but I mean, sure, do whatever you want….

Truth is, we’re all individual people with our own brain chemistries and life-situations. And we’re writing our own individual books. Every one of them is a little different and requiring a slightly different approach, a new angle, more of this, less of that. As I’ve said here many, many times before, what works for me won’t always work for you. And it definitely won’t work for that guy. He’s doing his own thing in his own way and… look, it’s his thing. He’s happy. We can leave him alone over there.

A big part of writing is figuring out how you like to write. What level of outlining works best for you. What level of output. What timeframe. What time of day. What location. What environment. What’s going to let you write the most, the best, the most painlessly. And it’s all unique. For each of us, and for each project.

I wrote one book, –14-, with almost no outline. I scribbled down a lot my pages late at night while my partner was conked out in the other room. But I wrote a good chunk of Paradox Bound in a coffee shop with my pods in. And big swaths of my current book– TOS if you subscribe to the newsletter—were written out on the deck in a yellow pad with a cold drink, a huge outline, and a grumpy black cat glaring at me.

But a year or two back I tried to do a comic pitch. And I’d never done one before, so I talked to a friend with a lot of comics experience about how they usually did it and followed all their tips and advice. But their method wasn’t really… me. My pitch ended up being a really stilted, awkward thing that didn’t get across half of the excitement and creepiness and awe I wanted it to. And fortunately the editor I sent it to was pretty good-natured and we had a laugh at a con later about how it wasn’t the worst comic pitch they’d ever gotten…

(fun fact– said editor later did a series of posts about what they liked to see in a comics pitch and it was much closer to what I probably would’ve done on my own if I hadn’t asked my friend how they did it)

What I’m trying to say is, every writer has their own way of doing things. How they start the day, the tricks they use to stay motivated, their daily goals, their overall strategies. Don’t get obsessed with how other people do it. Figure out how you’re going to do it. Which method works best for you? What tricks and schedules let you do the most, best work? Because that’s a huge part of getting good at this whole writing thing. Figuring out what works for you. We all do it. We stumble across methods and tips and ideas, try them out for a while, and then decide which ones work for us and which ones don’t.

And yeah… it’s going to take time to figure this out. Maybe lots of time. Sorry. There’s just no way around it. It’s not like trying on a shirt where I can immediately go “whoa, this is waaaaay too tight across my broad, muscular chest.” Think of it more like dating. Sometimes, yeah, it’s obvious ten minutes into the first date this isn’t a good match. But sometimes it might take two dates or three weeks or four months to realize what works doesn’t outweigh what, well, doesn’t work and this just isn’t sustainable.

But the plus side is you’ve still been writing and you’ve still learned something from this. And that’s something you can carry over to the next thing you work on. And the next handful of tips you happen across.

So don’t be worried about trying something new. And don’t be afraid to say “this isn’t working for me,” no matter who said it works for them. Find what works for you.

Next time, I’d like to talk about driving waaaaay past the speed limit.

Unless there’s something different you’d like me to blather on about? The comments section is so lonely…

Until then, go write.