Category Archives: Writing Process
That Novel I’ve Been Working On . . .
Aside from not being a dog, or having a drinking problem, or being homies with a diabolical, talking baby, this is exactly what “working on my novel” has been like. At least for the last two years when all the research needed for the narrative is, in a sense, sorted. This is still a hilarious clip (note to my dad: this is how you use the word “hilarious,” not to randomly describe things like scuba diving, clothing, or hamburgers.) But it is less funny when I think about myself as Brian Griffin. Fortunately, I can’t sustain such introspective and deep thoughts while watching Family Guy for very long. In case it isn’t clear, this is a slightly late New Year’s Resolution Post. Yes, eleven days late. So what?
As I was saying . . .
At some point between my birthday and the end of the year, I make a perfectly plausible New Year’s resolution: to carve out some writing time and get that novel I’m working on finished. Then I write other detailed resolutions that expand and strengthen the initial resolution. I also throw in some I’m going to exercise and drink more smoothies.
Last year, I even attempted to do NaNoWriMo in November, which didn’t go quite as well as I’d hoped. In fact, it went in the opposite direction. If you’re wondering why my NaNo word count widget is still stuck in November, it isn’t the result of laziness; it’s because that’s the last time I even looked at my story, let alone touched it, and I mean that in a completely normal way.
While I would like to blame Kavya, my two year old daughter, for my lack of time, energy, motivation, inspiration, etc. I can’t. Nor can I blame my hectic work schedule. It’s not that hectic, or draining. The real issue really boils down to. Well, me. I am not looking at writing fiction as a job, and I probably should start doing that. There is no divine inspiration, or sage advice to gleam from writing books or magazines. The bottom line is that I have to write like it’s a job.
When I write freelance articles and essays, I know someone is going to pay me as soon as I finish it. Even when I grade papers or write up lesson plans/syllabi, I know at the end of the 4 month semester, I will be paid for my effort. Writing fiction is totally different. There is no guarantee of anything. Not of payment. Not of publication, or the time frame. As Victor Frankenstein says to Robert Walton in Letter IV of Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein: “Unhappy man, do you share my madness?” Yep. I do, homeboy.
After my five days of NaNo and my pitiful November word count, I felt a bit bummed and even as I write this post, I still haven’t looked at my writing. But clearly, I wasn’t that distraught because it didn’t stop me from livin’ it up on a holiday to Hawai’i for Christmas.
So, rather than making a huge New Year’s Resolution post filled with lofty goals, this year I have exactly two writing related goals:
1) To get organized and start taking my writing seriously, instead of waffling about. That wasn’t really a goal, more an offhand inner thought that somehow made it to #1 on my resolutions.
2) I’m going to post a monthly word count in the sidebar, and try to gear myself up for NaNoWriMo. This is the year I finish my novel.
3) Read more. Maybe post some reviews on here of some of the books I’ve read.
I’ll end this post with another inspirational video by the best writing mentor anyone could hope to have:
Dialogue Makers: Attack of Short-Story Writers
When I first started my M.F.A. in fiction at California State University, Fresno, I had zero interest in Southern fiction. I had, of course, heard of Ernest Hemingway, and had to analyze two of what I had thought were plotless short-stories: “Hills Like White Elephants,” and “A Clean, Well-Lighted Place.” I was admittedly bored out of my head at the prospect of having to do it again in graduate school. But I was pleasantly surprised because the analysis this time wasn’t focused on the symbolism, or on understanding what the writer meant, not even on forcing the motif of light and dark or the abortion imagery. Instead, Steve Yarbrough, my creative writing professor and thesis advisor, focused the discussion on the mechanics of the short-story.
Dialogue is one of the most underrated skills for a fiction writer to study. It’s viewed almost as the exclusive territory of screenwriters. The stories that I enjoy reading (short-stories, novels, non-fiction) use a range of tools to tell their stories. There are beautiful sentences with lovely imagery and words that pop into your mouth and crackle (description); the plot is intriguing, and the dialogue is believable and the characters are deliciously complex. So, the stories of the authors mentioned above are not ones I read just out of entertainment, but the fact they are fantastic stories to really attempt to dissect how the writer’s achieved the effect they did.
Summer of Fun . . . and no Writing!
Me and Kavya Bhangra-ing On the Beach
This Summer, I had big plans to make amends for my word count of about 0 since January. Needless to say, my New Year’s resolutions didn’t pan out quite as well as I had hoped. I’d like to say it’s because of my work and duties as a father and husband are exhausting. But the primary reason is pure laziness. I had a tiny bit of a bump in the road with my story and rather than sit there and work through it like a proper writer does, I opted to take the approach a muppet would: to go muppetting about and do anything except my writing. Some of it was indeed legit stuff: tidying the flat, grading papers, working on syllabi. Those sorts of productive things. And when I couldn’t be bothered with that, but still didn’t want to face the mess of my novel, I went on FaceBook, which was the beginning of the end. Then there was Twitter. YouTube. And channels on the good ole telly.
Over the Summer, time has been the culprit for my not writing, and I really am a victim this time. Really. Alright, not really. But it is taking much more effort for me to focus because we’re on “holiday” to visit my Mum and Dad in Central California for a month. Before that, Sona’s cousins came to New Jersey for a visit, so of course, we “had to” go to Point Pleasant, chill out on the beach, and scarf down deep-fried oreos and chocolate covered potato chips. Here in California, Sona still has freelance assignments she’s doing, my Mum is at work till 5pm, and my Dad . . . well, let’s just say he’s easily distracted when he gets a phone call or gets on the computer. So, essentially, me and Sona are balancing doing our work with watching Kavya, and our writing has taken a massive backseat.
Tandoor in Back Garden of Central California
Added to the mix are fresh berries, fruit trees, chickens and roosters strutting about, a tandoor and a barbeque (sometimes used to cook the aforementioned chickens) in the acre and a half backgarden of my parent’s home, not to mention a paddling pool, and a shaded patio. So, even if sitting indoors with my laptop open was an option, you can see what a struggle it would be to choose that over a paddling pool. Oh yeh and then there’s that daughter I’m a father to. I love the quality time I’m spending with her, but she is quite knackering. Sona and I are absolutely shattered by the time my mum comes home. And Sona has erratic assignments that she has to do on top of all that, so it’s difficult for either of us to have a solid writing routine.
So, while Sona does her interviews or watches her shows for work, I end up playing . . . I mean taking care of Kavya, This involves a lot of bhangra, running, splashing, tickling, changing of nappies, combing of hair, attempts at putting rubber bands in Kavya’s hair (my wife doesn’t appreciate my artistry in styling my daughter’s hair).
The Challenge
Starting this week, both Sona and me have been trying to get a routine going for our writing. I drop Sona at a Starbucks in the morning and then hang out with Kavya for two hours, sometimes roaming through various shops and the bookstore. Other times just dropping Sona off and coming home and playing in the paddling pool with her. Once we just parked in a shady spot, Kavya took a nap for a good solid hour, and I worked on my outline in my notebook.
Speaking of outlines, I haven’t fully crossed over and embraced the outline, but I am definitely seeing the merits in it. So far, I’ve been doing what I found out is the “skeleton outline” through Scrivener. Basically, I write a general gist of what is going to happen in a scene. The “cons” in this type of outline, I read about in a novel writing book I glanced at while at the bookstore with Kavya, is that it isn’t very thorough. This I can attest to, but it does allow flexibility, which you can see how well that worked out for me and my writing process.
The other type is one I don’t think I’ll ever use for creative writing: the “structure plus.” It’s too analytical. You basically have to know what the purpose of a scene is, and also who exactly is going to be in it, and what some of the lines will be. I wish I could have it all mapped out like that, but just not my style.
I’ve started fiddling about with a hybrid between the two for my own notes. I’ll still use the Scrivener notecards describing the gist.
So far, this hybrid has really helped me shape things up by breaking down the structure. One of the problems I was having was figuring out what happens after a secret is revealed in my novel. At first, I thought the partition of 1947 or 9/11 in and of itself is a catalyst for something. And it very well might be, but that’s not the type of story I’m writing. What I’ve found helpful is to use screenplay structure to break it down. Screenplays are obviously much more rigid in the sense that turning point 1 must occur by page x, or Act I and Act 3 must be 30 pages each, and Act 2 must be 60 pages. Fortunately a novel is more flexible, but can benefit from this structure.
There are three acts or parts of a story: Act 1, 2, and 3. Act I introduced the status quo (characters, setting, current situation, etc). Act 2 complicates things, and Act 3 gives us the new status quo/offers some form of a resolution.
Once I thought about my story in these terms, it made my objective with the outline a little clearer, but I still didn’t know how to integrate some of the historical facts into the narrative, or breathe life into some of my characters that I initially thought would be minor.
My only time to write is late at night, even though I have to be “on” starting relatively early in the morning. I am awakened to Kavya pointing at my stomach and saying “tidoo,” followed by wild slaps and hysterical laughter. So, no snooze button available there. My strategy, for now, is to write a paragraph or so for the crucial parts of my novel, including some transitions, and logistical bits. I’m giving myself four weeks to hammer it out. Then I’ll worry about word count.
Day 1 for me officially starts tomorrow: Thursday, August 11, 2011
Four weeks from tomorrow: Thursday, September 8, 2011
Sona already has a pretty solid outline, so is zooming along. Here’s her post on her Summer Writing.
Wish me luck! And wish Sona luck as well =)
Martin Amis on “The War Against Cliché “
The mere mention of Martin Amis’s name (in England, anyway) sends grown men hurtling towards a nostalgic past they were probably never a part of, and women into hysterics. The sort reserved for Michael Jackson when he did the moonwalk. I can’t think of any other author who has ever had the power to elicit this sort of behaviour from grown men and women, let alone still be able to pull it off in their late sixties.
Martin Amis is the grand-daddy of Lad-Lit (classily referred to as Dick-lit in America). He exploded onto the literary scene at 24 years old, winning the prestigious Somerset Maugham Award with The Rachel Papers in 1973. The plot of his novels has never been very exciting, but he has managed to amazingly move past cliché, despite the story he’s telling, and even the characters controlling the story epitomizing cliché itself.
Goodies and Baddies: Creating Complex Villains and Heroes
Navdeep Singh Dhillon: An Unintentional New Father
Ever since my wife started her MFA in creative writing at the New School last fall, I’ve been spending a lot of time hanging out with my daughter, who just turned one a few days ago. I watch her three nights out of the week, and I’m often asked how I get any writing done when I’m watching her.
The answer is simple: I don’t.
Initially, I attempted to balance the two, which did not end well. I was exhausted, didn’t get any writing done (I calculated once that I’d written 7 words, including pronouns, in five hours), and didn’t feel like I’d spent any time with Kavya. So, I decided to embrace spending time with my daughter properly, and a rather brilliant way of thinking about my writing (pat on back).
Call me a horrible father, but two of our favourite activities, regardless of the season, is to stay indoors and watch youtube, or something on the telly. And yes, we eat at the sofa, crumbs and all, much to Sona’s irritation (“I don’t know why there are crumbs on the sofa, Sona. Maybe YOU put them there from that pizza you had earlier in the week!”). We do, of course go out for excursions to New York, the mall, out for dinners, the park, coffee shops, museums here and there, and the bookshop (an absolute must). But this is what we end up doing when it’s time for papa to “work.”
Maula Jatt, the best film to come out of Lollywood
And what do we watch? Movies. Television Shows. British Soaps (Eastenders yip yip). We also watch plenty of old school Bhangra videos that don’t feature scantily clad girls dancing around men wearing sunglasses inside strobe lit dance clubs. I’m raising a fiery Punjab di Sher Bachiye (little lioness), not a piece of furniture.
The reason I call this “work” is because that’s how I view it. Before Kavya, I never actually watched television for anything other than entertainment, and relied on novels, short-stories, and plays for sources of inspiration and narrative structure. Now, I still use those forms when she’s asleep (nothing beats a Shakespearean villain/hero, and nobody can create tension through dialogue and minimal description like Flannery O’Connor or Ernest Hemmingway). But I have come to truly appreciate the 3 act structure and A/B story of writers behind the television shows and movies I am drawn to. My novel has finally gotten off the ground, and I am attempting to create characters that move beyond stereotype, and have real depth to them. I tried reading some Shakespeare while watching Kavya, but she tried to eat and rip up the pages of his plays. Even e-books don’t work because then she climbs onto my computer and beats the keyboard and screen with all her might until she’s shown something more visually alluring.
My Favourite Fiction of 2010
As the curtain draws on 2010, I thought I’d give you a list of my favourite books of the year . The way I chose these books is a very scientific methodology; sometimes I pick up a book because I like the font, other times because I’ve heard something about the author or the subject, but most of the time I’ve chosen books at random from one of many bookstore dates me, Sona, and our now ten month old daughter –Kavya – routinely go to in New York, New Jersey, or California. In no particular order:
1. Serious Men by Manu Joseph
This highly underrated story explores caste issues using humor. Think of him as a funny Rohinton Mistry. The main character, Ayyan Mani, is a middle-aged member of the “untouchable” Dalit Community, working as an assistant to a brilliant Brahmin astronomer in Bombay. Discouraged by his position in society and in his career, he concocts a small lie at first – that his ten-year-old son is a genius. The lies start piling up and reach epic, but utterly hilarious, proportions.
2. The Sea by John Banville
The writing in any of John Banville’s books is just breathtaking, but “the sea” is my all time favourite that I just picked up a week ago in Fresno, California. It feels almost like poetry, rather than fiction. Here are two examples taken from the first paragraph: “The seabirds mewled and swooped, unnerved, it seemed, by the spectcle of that vast bowl of water bulging like a blister, lead-blue and malignantly agleam.” And “Someone has just walked over my grave. Someone.”
A Christmas Present: Time
Family Visit to California for the Holidays
This winter, while visiting my parents in California, I had big plans to put a dent in my novel. Or at the very least finish my short-story that has been on the backburner since the beginning of Fall. We’ve only arrived here four days ago, but already I feel an aire of complete unproductivity looming. So far, I have done bugger-all related to the actual writing of my novel. Although I did manage to skim through “Points of View” and refine my handwritten notes. But there is a seemingly valid excuse for me not writing: our baby is teething. For those of you without little bundles of wobbling, energetic, laughing, crying, screaming, adorable, irritating, frustrating, little versions of yourselves, let me translate what teething means: Life is hell.
Kavya the Half-Tooth Wonder
Our 10-month old daughter has two half-teeth protruding from the top and bottom of her largely gum filled mouth, which she shows us in one of two inexplicable ways: 1) With zero warning, she unhinges her jaw to a 180 degree angle so she can laugh hysterically at random things: the fridge, a person’s face, Sona dancing to my melodious rendition of “brown girl in the ring.” 2) Almost as abruptly, but with about a two second warning, her upper lip starts to quiver like jelly on a plate, and then she takes a deep breath. This brings a false sense of calm, and is immediately followed by huge wails of shrieking like I’ve just told her I shot the Easter Bunny. In the head. And am making her rabbit stew for dinner.
Teething biscuits don’t work. Neither does medicine, unless the goal is simply to knock your baby out, or the teething has induced fever (as if just the teething wasn’t enough). So, essentially, I’m in the “on” position the entire day.
Dead Narrators in Fiction
There is surprisingly very little information on the internet about using dead narrators as a fictional device. It is a facet of storytelling that I find fascinating, partly because I am very anti-social and don’t get out much, but primarily because I have been thinking about killing one of the main characters in my novel, and having him continue to narrate his story. Perhaps there’s a reason people don’t return my phone calls. Or my texts. Or my Facebook messages.
I have been told that this kind of narration is akin to burping at the dinner table or having a unibrow on a first date: something beneath the refined and well-groomed writer of literary fiction, but commonly used by those uncouth and low brow Young Adult writers as they smoke that hashish in their trailers while drinking Hennessey out of brown paper bags.
Young Adult authors, unfortunately, don’t get their props. And I’m about to take away what little props they do get by re-distributing the art of the dead narrator to other genres.
Some of the reviews on YA books like The Lovely Bones by Alice Sebold irritate me because they reference Stephanie Meyer’s Twilight saga as using a similar technique. And she doesn’t. Vampires, while technically dead, are not really dead narrators. Unless someone drives a stake through Edward’s heart (I am so there for that book and that movie) making him cease to exist, and then he continues to narrate the story, I don’t think the Twilight series should count as having a dead narrator. He is, in Meyer’s reality, alive. Sort of. Also, it’s a rubbish book, with rubbish characters, a rubbish plot, and rubbish writing. Sorry, had to get that out.
Using a dead narrator will either cause people to think of you as a very clever writer (ideal) or someone using a gimmick and that too a clichéd gimmick (not ideal).
