Christine Schaub: Writer's Corner

It never fails, whether I’m speaking to a writing class or a budding writer or an interviewer or even socially at a party, I’m asked the dreaded question: What does your average writing day look like? In other words—What is your “procedure”?

It’s a cringe-worthy question, because (1) no two days ever look alike; (2) no two writers use the same formula; (3) if you looked through my living room windows, you’d probably think I’m doing a whole lot of nothing. And that’s how creativity works.

I know a writer who writes three hundred words a day. He keeps the word count button active right up until the magic number, then shuts it down—even if he’s in the middle of a sentence. That works for him. Another writer I know just writes randomly, spewing out ideas, characters and plot points, hoping they all come together in the end. And they usually do.

I’m a little more traditional, I think.

I was trained as a copywriter—a drafter of factual and sometimes clever information, heavily outlined, and short, short, short! A novel is an average of three hundred pages with interweaving characters and plot points, subplots, dialogue and description. You can imagine my terror after I signed a multiple-book contract, promising to produce a riveting story every nine months in novel format…with no formal training.

Insert primal scream here.

A couple of how-to books later, I came to a conclusion: novel writing is less about the procedure and more about the pitfalls to avoid. For instance…

Pitfall: Slow opening. How many times have you slogged through the first thirty pages of a book someone recommended and kept thinking, ‘this will get better…this has got to get better’—but it didn’t and you gave up?

Solution: Open the book in the middle of the action. We are a movie culture; we think in “scenes.” Every scene has three acts: beginning, middle, end. You want to start your book toward the latter part of Act 1. One teacher advises writers to never open a scene with a character asleep in bed. Nobody cares about that unless the character wakes up with a gun to his head and the house on fire. That’s the end of Act 1 and sets up Act II. And it’s a thrilling opening.

Pitfall: Inane dialogue. “Hey, Chris. How are you?” “Fine, fine. And you?” “Great, thanks for asking.” Yawn. It’s disconcerting to realize that’s how we really talk every day, but novel dialogue is not “everyday.” Novel dialogue is clever—what we wish we could think to say on every occasion. Novel dialogue is necessary—it moves the plot along. It is never, never exposition, i.e., “Susan, remember that time we were in Paris because your Dad won the lottery and you met that Frenchman who later became your husband?” Heavy sigh.

Solution: Save dialogue for when it’s absolutely essential to moving the story forward: a confession, a reveal, a character-definer. Make something happen with dialogue and your readers will keep reading.

Solution: Go through your manuscript and underline every –ly word. Now go back and limit yourself, as I do, to a certain number of –lys you’ll allow yourself per page. I allow up to five –ly words per typewritten page—that includes words like “only” and “finally.” Now start replacing your lazy words with better verbs.

Pitfall: Mixed points of view. Have you ever read a novel in which the author had you leaping back and forth between two characters’ heads to the point where you were thinking, ‘Wait a minute…whose mind am I reading now?” I thought I was being really careful about this until my editor started pointing it out in little sections here and there. Embarrassing, but that’s her job.

Solution: Use one point of view per scene. If your POV character doesn’t see it, hear it, think it, or react to it, it didn’t happen. If you want to revisit the scene from another point of view, try a He Said/She Said approach—one character, one scene at a time.

Pitfall: Abrupt character description. Nothing will bring your story to a screeching halt quite like paragraph after paragraph of character description. The reader doesn’t have to know everything about the character right away. In fact, it’s better to stretch it out over time—much like dating. You reveal a little bit over coffee, a little more over dinner, significantly more when you meet his parents.

Solution: Pull out your favorite novels. Now find the moment when the writers start describing their characters. Transcribe every one of these until you have about four typewritten pages of character descriptions. You’ll probably see a pattern that you’ll want to imitate. And imitation is the highest form of flattery.

A year ago, I had a story to tell but didn’t quite know how to tell it. I was pretty sure I could read up on the process and follow the directions. I just didn’t want to look “amateur.” You’re probably thinking the same thing, and to that I say, “Good!” The best way to become a master is to learn from the masters—and here are the master books I recommend:

Writing the Breakout Novel, by Donald Maass
Creating Character Emotions, by Ann Hood
Writing Dialogue, by Tom Chiarella
Building Believable Characters, by Marc McCutcheon
Bird by Bird, by Anne Lamott

Oh, and my procedure? I outline. Sometimes I outline within the outline. It’s a fluid thing, changing daily. But it works. For me.

Christine Schaub is the author of Finding Anna—the story behind the writing of the hymn “It Is Well With My Soul” and the first in the MUSIC OF THE HEART historical fiction series from Bethany House Publishers. You can read more about her @ www.christineschaub.com.