Tagged: wrenches

Goosing The Descriptions

We talked recently about inadequate preparation leading to deficient descriptive language in the text. Today we examine how sometimes it’s good to avoid getting too detailed too early on.

In the universe of the Science Novels, there’s a thing we’ve nicknamed the Swap-O-Matic. There’s only one, but it turns up several times. And each time it appears, the description is different. Way different. Horrendously deviant. (There’s also another machine that’s similarly chameleonic, but in subtler ways.) You see, there are two of us writing, and we each think we have the “right” image in our heads. Furthermore, over months of writing, our respective mental images have shifted.

And, over the evolution of these manuscripts, the ways we need the machine to behave have also evolved. Now that the end is in sight on the first drafts, we are finally pretty confident that we fully understand this thing’s job. So, now we can reconcile all the comically inconsistent depictions. Essentially, we’ll reverse engineer the Swap-O-Matic.

A couple of weeks ago, we said the goose wrench is usually employed early, to tune up the outline. And for plot-level stuff, that’s true. If the plot has sections that flap in the breeze, we’re not ready to tell the story. It has to be more stable, at least for us. But on a small scale, as in the case of describing a particular apparatus, it can be better to leave things loosey-goosey until late in the game. Had we created an exquisite, authoritative picture of the Swap-O-Matic before we started writing prose — before we knew what all we’d be asking of it — we would have been designing the wrong machine.

Working with a partner creates more chances for inconsistencies, but in the first draft that’s not so bad. It just means more ideas from which you can cherry-pick the best details during revision when you make everything line up.

Our Plot-to-Backstory Ratio is Now Favorable!

r-avatarNow that our note-taking has reached the point where we had to order refills for our favorite pen, Jen decided it was time to get everything from the steno pad typed up and organized. Which led to the happy surprise discovery that the preponderance of our notes have to do with the actual story, rather than the backstory.

During our conversations from which these notes are generated, we tend to spend a lot of time on the stuff that’s led up to the point where we will join the story, the “how did they get that way” of our various new cast members. While it’s vital for us to have a sense of history with these characters, we’re acutely aware that hardly any of the details will make it into the manuscript, and so we became concerned that these rabbit holes were distracting us from plotting the story.

Getting a rough plot laid out really didn’t take all that long. But as soon as we started drilling down on a story beat, we had to answer questions that hinged on backstory, and that meant coming up with said backstory. Then we’d climb back up and look at another story beat, which necessitated another round of backstory development. A few such sessions quickly resulted in continuity problems within the emerging backstory, and resolving those sent tremors up into the plot. It’s taken a few iterations, but the first half(?) of the plot is now stabilized pretty well.

The metaphors above might suggest pickaxes and helmets with lamps on them, but our tools of choice during this work are in fact two kinds of wrenches.

Knowing Which Wrench to Use

r-avatarLast week we introduced you to the goose wrench. Now it’s time to mention the other handy wrench you should keep, er, handy: the monkey wrench. Although the term is often negative, it’s an indispensable implement for creative problem-solving.

Here’s the TL;DR: if a writer has too many problems, it’s usually because the characters don’t have enough.

The monkey wrench is versatile. It can be applied delicately, to unravel things just a little bit. Or it can be wielded like a club, or tossed into the gears. But remember to show moderation in all things, especially excess. Unlike the goose wrench, it’s not your own process that the monkey wrench should be swung at. It’s your characters’. You’re not trying to seize up the plot, so pay some attention to which sets of gears you’re aiming for. Story thrives on conflict. When things for your cast are going a little too smoothly, when your protagonist becomes complacent or settles into a rut, that’s the time to break out the monkey wrench.

Keep both wrenches available. Story structure is too loosey-goosey? Grab that goose wrench. When things go flat, reach for the monkey wrench. Just make sure they’re clearly labeled, because using the wrong one will only make a writer’s problems worse.