We Have Big Plans… And They’ll Have to Get Bigger

If a little planning is good, then a lot of planning should be great, right? And you know what would be best of all? All. The. Planning.

Except, no. There is such a thing as too much planning. It’s not a catastrophe if it happens, but it can create some headaches. As we recently discovered. (Spoiler: we’d say the problems you get with overplanning are better ones to have than what you get with underplanning.)

As regular blog readers know, we outlined all four Ghost Books at once. We wanted to know where the plot is going, and be able to do nifty thematic stuff and foreshadowing. Great. In the process, we did end up creating a problem for ourselves, which we’ve discovered now that we’re closing in on the end of book one.

There’s a very fancy prop — think priceless magical heirloom — that gets used prominently in the first book and then is never mentioned at all in the outlines of the later volumes. We think we’ve figured out how it happened. During the outlining, we thought of this item as more of an aesthetic element, something that added spice to a few early scenes but wouldn’t really be missed later on. During the creation of the actual prose, it became nifty-keen in ways we hadn’t anticipated, becoming something that we couldn’t just stop mentioning. Anyway, we caught it and we can easily (we hope) tweak the future outlines to factor it in.

Given that what we’re saying is we missed some stuff, it might not be obvious how this  represents overplanning. But it was. We just planned out a few too many books all at once. We didn’t apply to the outlining process the lessons we’ve learned about stubs. There’s a reason we do our stubs in batches, which is so that we can course-correct as we go. So, now we’ll have to course-correct anyway. No big deal. Much easier to fix outlines than completed manuscripts!

The take-away is this: there’s an optimal amount of planning, and it’s probably better to do a little too much than not enough.

If You’re Like Most People

  • by Kentviolent constipation
  • I know what a kitchen is for
  • he’s… “passionate”… about… fish?
  • “Observe: a perfectly shaped square.”
  • movie stars with long hair, rosy cheeks, and beards

Tune in next time part 790      Click Here for Earlier Installments

If you’re like most people, you’ve given a lot of thought to what someone who lurks in the shadowy recesses of a pickle chapel should look like. And, how someone whose greetings are vulgar and hostile should dress. In neither case do you probably expect movie stars with long hair, rosy cheeks, and beards that could conceal adult raccoons.

The owner of the booming voice was a hairy adonis, as was his companion. Both men held up their left hands, palm outward. Booming-voice said, “Observe: a perfectly shaped square.” Inked onto his palm was a lopsided oval that might have been an eggplant. The other man’s hand displayed a horseshoe, complete with nail holes.

“Who are you?” I demanded. Under my breath I added, “And who taught you geometry?”

“All things are squares to us, for we are Right Anglers. Your ass-kicking is the thing I’m second-most passionate about, right behind our finny underwater friends.” He stood, and I was startled by how little difference it made. His companion, however, was fully a head taller than me.

I tried to inventory the situation, but it made no sense at all. I’ve never heard of this guy, but he wants to kick my ass, and he’s… “passionate”… about… fish? Then what’s he doing on an airship? Now he’s coming toward me, so I better do something.

My favorite stance for unarmed combat was the one they called a kitchen in my dojo. There were all kinds of other options, from powder rooms to breakfast nooks, but their purposes were never clear to me. I know what a kitchen is for: not getting my ass kicked.

“Ugh, men!” Tessa huffed. “Your emotional landscapes are nothing but violent constipation.”

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I Didn’t Care Why She’d had a Xylophone Glued to her Head

  • by jenBetween every single smooch I was sopping up sweat
  • Jeepers creepers!
  • the standard inking method
  • enters her wedding night tongue-tied
  • weirdly pleasing metallic smell

Tune in next time part 789      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I didn’t care why she’d had a xylophone glued to her head. Simply knowing that Tessa was an ultra-secret spy was a total turn-on. I leaned over and kissed her, hard, on the mouth. The pickle brine on her tongue made my eyes sting, and her kisses raised my body heat. Between every single smooch I was sopping up sweat with the tablecloth, but I kept going back for more.

“Jeepers creepers!” Tessa cried. “You’re going to drown us both!”

“I’ll be dehydrated soon,” I murmured, in what I hoped was a seductive voice. I must have been wrong because Tessa immediately started talking about tattoos again, and how the standard inking method wouldn’t work if she used the pickle skewer, but she was willing to improvise.

“Tessa, no. No improvisation. No tattoos.”

“You’re acting like some blushing bride who enters her wedding night tongue-tied and scandalized, but I know you. You’re a man of the world. You’re the sort of man whose copious sweat has a weirdly pleasing metallic smell. The kind of man who is up for anything. The kind of man who–”

She was interrupted by a deep voice booming from the depths of the pickle chapel. “The kind of man who’s about to get his ass kicked.”

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Sometimes A Writer’s Best Tool Is A Shoehorn

Even with a process that’s as overengineered as ours, sometimes things get missed. Despite all the meticulous planning, despite the extra set of eyes, we sometimes end up needing to retrofit something into the prose that we considered finished.

Now, a lot of sources of writing advice would say “never look back,” and that in such cases you should just make a note about it and keep going. There is the danger of working endlessly without ever actually reaching the end, that polishing Act I can become one’s way of procrastinating about finishing the story. Here at SkelleyCo Amalgamated Fiction Enterprises, LLC, we don’t let that worry us too much. We have plenty of other ways to procrastinate!

Without giving anything away, there is a late event in the outline that we’ve known about all along, but what we overlooked was a bit of specific groundwork to support it. Once we decided on what those missing details should look like, Jen made a stub for it. Only this stub wasn’t numbered, because we didn’t know exactly where we’d be putting it. Figuring out where that would be, and then wedging open a spot so it could fit, turned out to be the trickiest part. Kent looked at the completed scenes that were from the proper POV and involved the right locales and so on. Our game plan was to just inject a paragraph or three into one of those. That didn’t turn out to be feasible, so it became its own scene. Which meant we needed to frame it, give the POV character a motivation other than “make this exposition sound casual.” Which led to a smoother arc for that character.

We certainly could have left it for the second draft. But, that late event is kind of a big deal so it’s good for our peace of mind to know that it really does work. If we’d been like a shark and just kept swimming forward, we would have been writing tons of stuff on the basis of an untested assumption that it would end up working out. So if it hadn’t, if we had somehow goofed up our timeline and there was no way things could work like we wanted… Well, best not to contemplate such a universe.

A writing partner is someone who helps you keep moving ahead, but will also go back with you if that’s what it takes.

The Aztec Twelve-Step

  • by Kentsecret network of spies
  • standard practice to have a pig diagram tattooed on your body
  • … well, your friend, really
  • I touched his arm that day in the park
  • glued to your head

Tune in next time part 788      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The Aztec twelve-step was thought by many to be a myth, but those of us in the business knew it was the initiation protocol of a very secret network of spies, like, even more secret than a regular spy network. Steps one through eleven were not too hard to track down, but of course the twelfth and final step was the one for all the marbles.

“That still doesn’t explain your escape,” I said.

“Well you see, it enabled me to become initiated, and the secret network released me so I could go on my first mission for them.” Tessa’s eyes became evasive. “I never completed that mission, so now I’m considered a defector.”

“Teach me the twelfth and final step,” I said. “Then maybe I can clear your name.”

She shook her head, but then she scrunched her forehead and stared at me. “All I can tell you right now is, for male initiates, it’s standard practice to have a pig diagram tattooed on your body.” She smirked. “We could kill two birds with one needle, if you let me ink you… well, your friend really… with that design.”

“No deal,” I said. “I want to help you out, but not like that.”

She gazed off into the distance. “If only I’d known where it would all lead, when I touched his arm that day in the park.”

“Whose arm?”

“I didn’t know it was him until later: the Silent One, the Prime Mime. It was an honest mistake! I was distracted. You would be too, if you had a xylophone glued to your head.”

“Why was there…” I trailed off. I knew she wasn’t going to tell me.

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“What Happened to Timmuth-A Through Timmuth-D?”

  • by jenno easier way to put someone in a box
  • gently inserting the tines around the circumference
  • on a gondola in Venice
  • drinking mimosas in secret
  • the Aztec twelve-step

Tune in next time part 787      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“What happened to Timmuth-A through Timmuth-D?” I asked, knowing it wouldn’t be pretty. Mimes are ruthless.

“There’s no easier way to put someone in a box and get them to stay there than to kill them.” Tessa looked haunted. “At least that’s what Timmuth-E said.” She’d picked up the pickle skewer and was gently inserting the tines around the circumference of the kosher dill she’d been nibbling on.

“That’s pretty dark,” I said. “I wasn’t expecting you to say they were all on a gondola in Venice, drinking mimosas in secret or anything, but, shit, man. Mimes.”

Tessa nodded solemnly. “Mimes are the worst.”

“Except Timmuth-E helped you escape…”

“No he didn’t. He slipped up and spilled some intel he shouldn’t have, that’s all.”

“What was it?”

She looked me dead in the eye and said something that took my breath away. “He taught me the twelfth and final step of the Aztec twelve-step.”

I couldn’t believe it. “You mean…”

She nodded and threw back another bite of pickle.

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“Most of the Time, You’re Right” He Admitted

Outlines are good. Stubs are good. Something we probably don’t mention enough on here is that the invisible in-between step is also good. A lot of realizations happen while converting the outline into stubs. We realize that certain scenes aren’t really needed, and we realize that there are gaps we need to fill. During outlining it might have seemed crucial to include the fact that Muriel goes for a manicure, but that doesn’t mean we’re obligated to create a scene just so we can show that.

Now, because building stubs is Jen’s job, she’s the one who usually comes to such realizations. And because she’s an awesome writing partner, she runs her intended changes past Kent first. Which is great. But Kent does find himself trying to strike a delicate balance during those chats.

It’s always a safe bet that Jen’s idea is a good one and will improve the novel. Therefore, Kent nearly always ends up agreeing with what she’s suggesting. The trouble is, when someone seems to automatically agree with whatever you say it feels like they’re not really listening. Kent likes to demonstrate that he’s listening and show some investment in the outcome. He likes to have an opinion. But overdoing things in that direction causes problems as well. It’s not that there’s really such a fine line between pushover and pompous ass, but at times it can feel that way.

It’s always good to be able to articulate why you like something, not just, “It was good.” (This is good to keep in mind for critique as well.) “You’re right, we don’t need the trip to the salon — showing Muriel admiring her nails later conveys it with one line instead of a whole scene.”

A writing partner is someone who listens to their writing partner.

Tessa Steeled Herself With Another Chomp of Pickle

  • by Kenta lot of maraschino cherries
  • giggling under inappropriate circumstances
  • flirting with my husband forever
  • never done anything more musical than cupping his armpit
  • usually requires special eye drops

Tune in next time part 786      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Tessa steeled herself with another chomp of pickle and continued her tale.

“They knew my mission was hopeless, but they sent me in anyway. They sent me in there for answers, knowing it’s impossible to make mimes talk. Well, I tried my best and all I did was make a bunch of very important enemies. It didn’t take long for them to catch on that I was up to something and lock me up. At first it wasn’t so bad, because they just put me in one of their invisible boxes. But I got sloppy and they figured out I was escaping, so then they used an actual cell.”

“You mean like in a jail?” I asked, smirking.

“It wasn’t jail!” Tessa grumbled. She bit into the pickle again. “You know what this needs? A nice garnish. Most bars have a lot maraschino cherries and shit like that. Can we get some?”

I signalled the bartender while making a rolling gesture to tell Tessa to go on with the story.

“Anyway, it was technically solitary confinement because I was the only one there. And being alone too much made me act weird, like giggling under inappropriate circumstances and hallucinating that I had a husband and then hallucinating that my sisters were flirting with my husband forever. Which, of course is what they would do. But giggling is against the rules, as is shouting at hallucinatory siblings, so my punishment kept getting extended. That’s why I was still there when another malcontent got put in the slammer and suddenly I had a cellmate. His crime: singing.”

I whistled. “That must be verging on treason in the mime community.”

She nodded, then shook her head. “It was a total frame-up. He had never done anything more musical than cupping his armpit, which they all do. It’s why their hands smell.” She glanced around. “Where the hell are those cherries? Whatever. The new guy’s name was Timmuth-E, which he told me in one of the many notes we passed back and forth. We wrote them on thin air with our fingertips, and reading them usually requires special eye drops but we got good at it. Eventually, he shared the information that enabled me to escape.”

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“Don’t Be a Baby”

  • by jenLast I heard, you were in jail.
  • chew it a little if needed
  • know that you are very rude and are also now my enemy
  • throw the glove in her face
  • You got guts, kid.

Tune in next time part 785      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Don’t be a baby,” Tessa cajoled. “You can take it. You got guts, kid.”

“What I have, Tessa, is the need for you to listen to me. You can’t give me a tattoo there, and if you don’t stop pushing my boundaries, I won’t let you give me a tattoo anywhere.”

I knew I was being blunt, but sometimes that sort of thing is called for. I did not intend to metaphorically throw the glove in her face, but she took it as an insult anyway.

“If that’s how it is, then know that you are very rude and are also now my enemy,” she huffed. She turned her back on me and crossed her arms.

The bartender approached obsequiously, with an oversized pickle on a tray. The fumes wafting from it were eye-watering. He murmured, “This will calm the lady down, sir. She can sniff it, or lick it, maybe chew it a little if needed. The mix is very potent.”

“Thanks.” I took the pickle from him and he scuttled back to the bar.

I laid my hand on Tessa’s shoulder. When she whirled around, I offered her the alcoholic vegetable. “Maybe we should slow down,” I said. “We spent so many years apart, it’s hard to jump into a relationship, much as we both might want to. We need to get to know each other again. Tell me your story,” I coaxed as she eyed the pickle warily. “Tell me what happened to you all those years we were apart. I lost track of you when you went to South America. Last I heard, you were in jail. Mime jail.”

“It wasn’t jail.” She took a hefty bite of the pickle. “At first I was undercover, and then I was their prisoner.”

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Eerily Close To The Conclusion…

…of the first draft of As-Yet Untitled Ghost Novel Number One.

Jen is working on the final batch of stubs, which will take us through the climax and then out the other side to the denouement. Kent meanwhile has been writing the scenes that lead right up to the climax. We’re probably around 75% of the way through, which maybe doesn’t qualify as “eerily close” but it does feel like we’ve hit the home stretch.

The manuscript’s word count is just shy of 112,000. Our list of things that we need to punch up and/or mention more often stands at about two dozen, so it’ll be interesting to see how big the second draft ends up being. We expected these books to be smaller than our usual, in fact we worried about them coming out too small on account of the series being broken up into four rather than three novels. It’s looking like we had nothing to worry about!

A writing partner is someone to make the journey with, however long it turns out to be.