Plot? What Plot?

Post ImageTwo things amazed me about my writing progress last year: 1) that I was actually doing it; and 2) that I managed to write over four hundred pages without even the slightest hint of a plot. This is okay for forty pages or so, you know, just introducing the characters, setting, and what not. Maybe eighty if you’re particularly gifted with adjectives. Maybe even two hundred pages, if you have the luxury of forcing all your readers to enjoy your work at gunpoint. But never, ever four hundred pages.

Yes, yes, I realized I touched on all this in the last book update. Today I just want to dig into the whole concept a bit more.

Not every book actually needs a plot. Travel books, memoirs, dictionaries, — all of these have the ability to fill hundreds of pages without even the merest threat of a twist ending. However, unlike the other books I’ve written, this one is fiction. As I got to the point where I realized the book might never end, it dawned on me that I might not be the only one to notice the problem.

For one, books that never end are very expensive to print. But worse, books that never end are never read. And, like most writers, I’m definitely writing to be read. So what’s a struggling wannabe to do? Come up with a plot, of course.

Disclaimer: I’m not a complete idiot. I did know about this strange literary device called a plot before I started. And to be honest, I had one when I started. I wrote up an outline which looked okay when it was only seventeen lines. It wasn’t until I actually started writing, however, that I realized it was about as thin as butter scraped across too much bread. There was no way my piddly little idea could support the weight of an entire novel.

As I mentioned in the last post, I began work on a second book (or booklet). I worked on it for two days. It’s about ten thousand words long and told in the first person point of view. It fully fleshed out the backstory I needed to give the main story a sense of purpose. Once I had that, I officially abandoned the first draft and went back to the literary drawing board: the synopsis. (If you can’t tell a story in 500 words, you sure won’t do it in 500,000 words. Trust me.) This second pass of the synopsis is getting a lot closer to where I want to be. Still a ways to go, but closer (and in the right direction).

Even better — for you, that is — I may be ready to actually unveil some of this mystery when Update Three rolls around. Which means I’d better stop typing here and get back to the word processor.

Day 7200

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Remember this post? Hard to believe that was 200 days ago. Hard to believe I was safely in Onederland at that point. Hard to believe I was actually sticking to a plan for nearly a year. Hard to believe that today I’m twenty-three pounds heavier.

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Spam

Post ImageWay back in my own early days of e-mail, now nigh on two decades ago, I remember receiving an unsolicited, obviously bulk-sent, electronic mail message. I have no idea what it was for but I do know it just made me mad. “How unfair!” I thought. “Someone . . . anyone . . . can simply take my email address and send me as much crap as they feel like and there’s nothing I can do about it.”

Except in those days we actually believed there was something we could do about. We were so young and naive: “We’ll just track that guy down and have his ISP shut off his account. Ha ha! That’ll teach ‘em. They’ll never send spam again!”

Well, two decades and eighteen quadrillion spam messages later, I don’t think the ISPs shut down those email accounts like we asked. It’s just a fact of life: spammers will continue to spam and our spam filters will continue to send it right into the trash. How efficient.

What bugged me first about it was indeed the invasion of privacy. What bugs me now about it is I find it embarrassing. Embarrassing, that is, for our species. If some advanced alien civilization looked down upon us, searching for any signs of intelligence, I sure as heck hope it doesn’t see this:

I don’t know about you, but to me, that’s humanity’s intellect at its finest. How’s that for someone trying to entice me (or my blog readers) to visit his web site? I’m sold! Or how about this one:

Four comments, right in a row, posted to the exact same blog post. Riveting. It’s pretty obvious what they’re selling, isn’t it? Oh, you mean you can’t tell from that gripping sales pitch? Here’s a hint: they’re small, blue, and for some insane reason, can be covered by insurance.

My next favorite breed of spam is the one with two completely different directions. How does this make sense, again?

This next one actually is a pretty good technique. The body of the spam is a compliment. Its sole purpose is to make you feel so happy that someone posted a comment that you’ll click on the link to see who it was. Then you’re left scratching your head at why Bad Credit No Problem is so enamored with your daily ramblings.

Lastly in the “Thanks, I think” category are comments like this:

And I blame you for this wonderful post. Please visit my site again soon. It just wouldn’t be the same without you, Mr. Spammy Robot.

Book One, Update Two

Post ImageI’m still surprised I made it as far as I did last year on the first draft of the manuscript. Back when I made my 2009 New Year Resolutions, I promised myself I’d finish the first draft by year’s end. And, back in January 2009, I actually thought that might happen. After all, I was already in my second month of writing and had a vast, expanse of time ahead of me. Twelve whole months! What couldn’t be done in twelve whole months?

Little did I know I’d be starting over during the year and wouldn’t begin writing again until August 1. Finishing a first draft by year’s end seemed mathematically impossible. NaNoWriMo helped me make up some serious time. By the end of the writing year (December 21) the draft hit 122,475 words. (I know that word counts can be a bit difficult to grasp: click here for a few reference points).

I didn’t begin writing again until January 5, when I added a whopping 159 words. The next day I did barely better, adding only 310 words. In short, things were getting pathetic: a far cry from NaNoWriMo days where my daily average was over 2,200 words. (And my most productive day was 7,453 words. Ahhhh, those were the days.)

The Heart of the Matter

The only thing more incredible than writing 122k words is writing 122k words without the slightest hint of a plot. About halfway through December, I changed the subtitle of the book to A Series of Uninteresting Events. The first draft was never intended to be close to a final anything. The characters are flat, which is okay. The imagery is weak; also okay. And I’ve held back on the frilly adjectives simply to make it through an entire story, which I could then go back and dress up later.

A particular someone I know is fond of making analogies to homebuilding. But there’s a good reason for that: building is a fundamental thing we humans do and building houses is easy for anyone to grasp. To use a homebuilding analogy for the book, think of my outline and synopsis as a blueprint. The first draft is the foundation and framing. At the end of this draft you have a pretty good idea of its shape, its purpose, and what the end product will look like. But it still needs drywall and paint and trim.

A solid frame without any paint and trim would be a terrible home. Similarly, a home with lots of nice paint and trim but a lousy foundation and frame would never be a place to live. A good book, like a good house, needs it all: it must be good through and through.

But when I wrote my 122,955th word on January sixth I realized the foundation and frame weren’t coming together. The book was more like a tunnel, aimlessly plowing into a mountain without any real purpose. I had to stop and rethink things. So I did something crazy over the weekend.

Something Crazy

What did I do? I started a second book. What? You heard me. And actually, it’s not as crazy as it sounds. What I began writing was a prequel, for lack of a better term. I realized that for the current story to come together I had a few too many unknowns to deal with. My synopsis simply didn’t have the detail I needed to explain what was happening. So I picked a character mentioned in the story, but not part of the story, and made him the first-person narrator in the prequel. In one day I wrote 34 pages, over 7,000 words, mapping out important pieces of the backstory in the detail I finally needed. It changed a lot: and in a good way. It was just what I needed.

It’s not done, of course, and I’ll likely never “finish” it. It’s simply an exercise. But a good one, and something I never saw coming. But in hindsight it makes sense. Because until I get down to the details, my brain just can’t properly formulate all the story elements. I have to create conversations and make people walk around. The bird’s eye view doesn’t work for me.

If all goes well, by the “Update Three” post my “Book Zero” will be behind me, my plot wall smashed down, and the first draft completed. If all goes really well, that will be long before December.

Ate and Ate and Ate

Post ImageMy Christmas? Oh, it was lovely. What did I do? Oh, I ate and ate and ate and ate. Then I ate, ate, ate, ate. After that, I ate some more, then had dessert, after which I ate and ate and ate and ate and ate. Once I was finally done eating, I took a nap (yet somehow continued to eat, even while asleep). I woke up, then had a snack, after which I ate and ate and ate and ate. Then I fixed myself a well-deserved dessert.

How did I feel? Lousy. Huge. Awful. Sick. Stupid. Guilty. And not guilty in the sense of, “Oh, gosh, I really messed up my diet! Shame on l’il ol’ me!” But in the sense that I’m ever conscious of the fact that there are so many people who don’t even remotely have the privilege of over-indulging. It really bothers me that so many people struggle to support themselves and meanwhile I sit around moaning oh-gee-I-just-can’t-stop-eating. As if that’s a problem worthy of anyone’s sympathy.

I actually touched on this near the very end of my book. For those of you who don’t have a copy (or do, but never got that far) here’s an excerpt:

The diet industry takes in an absolutely astounding amount of money. I’ve read figures ranging from eighteen to thirty five billion dollars or more per year in the United States alone. You heard right, people are spending upwards of one hundred million dollars per day for one reason: they just want to be smaller. They spend money on diet foods and diet programs and diet surgeries. They spend money on supplements and herbs and magic pills. They buy books and magazines and videos. They join health clubs and purchase equipment for home. One hundred million dollars per day and all we have to show for it is endless news reports all saying the same thing: we’re getting larger and larger and larger, and there’s no end in sight.

When confronted with that thirty-five billion dollar figure, many people are appalled that such an obscene amount of money changes hands each year. The next reaction is predictable: “All they have to do is eat less and exercise! There’s no reason to spend that much money on such a simple problem with an obvious solution.”

I won’t even bother to respond to that statement. That’s what the rest of this book is all about.

What slightly fewer people pick up on is the raw, dark irony of the total picture. By some estimates, thirty-eight million people in the United States are “food insecure,” meaning they cannot sustain minimum food needs due to a lack of money. And almost a third of those are truly hungry and malnourished. This country is wealthy enough to feed itself many times over, yet millions go without. An extremely overweight population is a growing concern at all levels, yet hunger is on the rise. In one household, a woman will spend $100 on diet pills while only a few miles away another woman is unable to put food on her table. Something is seriously wrong with this picture.

And that’s basically what I think of every time I gain five pounds over a ten day period. I can tell myself I work hard, and I deserve a break, and in the big picture it’s okay to stuff myself and then write a funny post about it afterward. But I was assembled with an over-active guilt chip; and it doesn’t have an off switch.