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oEPISTLES FROM A GOBLIN PRINCESSo
It's All In the Execution (So Beware) Part 1
Posted 30th September 2011 at 08:16 AM by Teresa Edgerton
Updated 23rd December 2012 at 06:11 AM by Teresa Edgerton
Updated 23rd December 2012 at 06:11 AM by Teresa Edgerton
Tags fantasy, originality, style, writing
In spite of the artfully sinister title, this was originally written to encourage new writers. (Of course, old writers need encouraging, too.) I've put it through quite a bit of revision since. I hope that it will be inspiring.
However that might be, this is another one of my long-winded articles that contains more characters than the software allows, and so, perforce, must appear in two parts.
ON ORIGINALITY (WITH SOME ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE SUBJECT OF STYLE)
There are a number of different reasons, I believe, why this occurs.
— The writer who tries and fails to achieve originality doesn’t read very much in the way of speculative fiction, or if they do, it’s all of the same kind, usually heavily inspired by role-playing games. They have a very narrow idea of what the genre already encompasses and, as a result, they think that something quite commonplace constitutes a major revolution. “I have this crazy idea: I’ll write a fantasy without any elves or orcs.” or ”I’m going to write something completely different: fantasy without any farm boys or wizard mentors.” Clearly they have managed to miss about 95% of the fantasy novels written over the last forty years.
— They decide to intentionally curtail their reading within the genre because they don’t want to be “influenced.” This leads to the unfortunate side effect that they’re overly influenced by books they’ve already read.
— They never read anything except fantasy (perhaps with occasional forays into science fiction), and they have no other influences to draw on; their minds are strait-jacketed by genre conventions. Or worse, what they think are genre conventions. “You can’t have a fantasy world with both magic and technology.” “Fantasy always involves castles and kings and medieval settings.”
—They’ve been tremendously impressed by a book they consider tremendously original (and it may well be), and have decided that this book, besides being unique in itself is the font of all originality ... and they consciously or unconsciously copy it.
But none of these, not even any combination of these, provides a complete explanation. I’ve also seen instances where a writer starts out with a wonderfully unusual and intriguing concept — something that leaves me wondering “why can’t I come up with ideas like that?” — and then they leave that fabulous premise just lying there flat on the page, and go on to tell an otherwise stereotypical tale with stereotypical characters. I don’t know whether these missed opportunities signal a creative lapse or a failure of nerve. (They may think they have a better chance of selling a story about an evil wizard and a talisman — but their heart isn’t in that one, and it shows.) On the other hand, I’ve also seen writers take what looks at first glance to be a familiar premise, develop it in unexpected directions, place their own personal imprint on the material, and come up with something that is very distinctive indeed.
So often, new writers will visit our Aspiring Writers forum, give a list of their characters and a brief idea of their plot, and ask, “Do you think this is original enough?” But it is not enough to come up with an extraordinary idea. What matters most is what we do with it once we’ve got it, because originality is the result of how well we develop our ideas, and in the end it comes down to this: It’s all in the execution.
Unfortunately, even when we start out with something new, there is too often an unconscious urge to begin developing it along conventional lines. We haven’t yet filtered out all of the influences and ideas so deeply engrained that we tend to take them for granted. But the longer we are willing to look at a plot, a set of characters, and a setting, the more we are prepared to examine them from different angles, and work out all the possibilities in terms of plot and character development — to allow our initial idea to take us where we never expected to go, down crooked lanes, through small weedy courts, and sinister back alleys; along ill-lit corridors and up secret staircases; into basements and attics hitherto unexplored (all right, I think we have had quite enough of that metaphor) — instead of just dashing off the story as it first occurs to us, the more likely we are to come up with ideas that are out of the ordinary.
(continued in next post)
However that might be, this is another one of my long-winded articles that contains more characters than the software allows, and so, perforce, must appear in two parts.
ON ORIGINALITY (WITH SOME ADDITIONAL THOUGHTS ON THE SUBJECT OF STYLE)
Part I
Over the years, I’ve been in a position to read a considerable number of unpublished manuscripts, and to hear (or read) a considerable number of new writers discussing their ideas. And one thing I’ve noticed is how very, very often the writer who is straining every nerve to write something that will redefine the fantasy genre ends up writing something that looks amazingly similar to most of the work being produced by other writers attempting to redefine the genre, too. (Meanwhile, somebody else, without even trying, produces original and distinctive work as a matter of course, and seemingly without much effort.) There are a number of different reasons, I believe, why this occurs.
— The writer who tries and fails to achieve originality doesn’t read very much in the way of speculative fiction, or if they do, it’s all of the same kind, usually heavily inspired by role-playing games. They have a very narrow idea of what the genre already encompasses and, as a result, they think that something quite commonplace constitutes a major revolution. “I have this crazy idea: I’ll write a fantasy without any elves or orcs.” or ”I’m going to write something completely different: fantasy without any farm boys or wizard mentors.” Clearly they have managed to miss about 95% of the fantasy novels written over the last forty years.
— They decide to intentionally curtail their reading within the genre because they don’t want to be “influenced.” This leads to the unfortunate side effect that they’re overly influenced by books they’ve already read.
— They never read anything except fantasy (perhaps with occasional forays into science fiction), and they have no other influences to draw on; their minds are strait-jacketed by genre conventions. Or worse, what they think are genre conventions. “You can’t have a fantasy world with both magic and technology.” “Fantasy always involves castles and kings and medieval settings.”
—They’ve been tremendously impressed by a book they consider tremendously original (and it may well be), and have decided that this book, besides being unique in itself is the font of all originality ... and they consciously or unconsciously copy it.
But none of these, not even any combination of these, provides a complete explanation. I’ve also seen instances where a writer starts out with a wonderfully unusual and intriguing concept — something that leaves me wondering “why can’t I come up with ideas like that?” — and then they leave that fabulous premise just lying there flat on the page, and go on to tell an otherwise stereotypical tale with stereotypical characters. I don’t know whether these missed opportunities signal a creative lapse or a failure of nerve. (They may think they have a better chance of selling a story about an evil wizard and a talisman — but their heart isn’t in that one, and it shows.) On the other hand, I’ve also seen writers take what looks at first glance to be a familiar premise, develop it in unexpected directions, place their own personal imprint on the material, and come up with something that is very distinctive indeed.
So often, new writers will visit our Aspiring Writers forum, give a list of their characters and a brief idea of their plot, and ask, “Do you think this is original enough?” But it is not enough to come up with an extraordinary idea. What matters most is what we do with it once we’ve got it, because originality is the result of how well we develop our ideas, and in the end it comes down to this: It’s all in the execution.
Unfortunately, even when we start out with something new, there is too often an unconscious urge to begin developing it along conventional lines. We haven’t yet filtered out all of the influences and ideas so deeply engrained that we tend to take them for granted. But the longer we are willing to look at a plot, a set of characters, and a setting, the more we are prepared to examine them from different angles, and work out all the possibilities in terms of plot and character development — to allow our initial idea to take us where we never expected to go, down crooked lanes, through small weedy courts, and sinister back alleys; along ill-lit corridors and up secret staircases; into basements and attics hitherto unexplored (all right, I think we have had quite enough of that metaphor) — instead of just dashing off the story as it first occurs to us, the more likely we are to come up with ideas that are out of the ordinary.
(continued in next post)
Total Comments 4
Comments
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Teresa,
What do you think of the idea of developing a setting and a cast of characters and letting the story develop itself? In my somewhat related field of preaching, I find myself often asking "Is that how Simon would have felt or acted?" or "Why would God have acted in this manner?" I believe that asking those questions often leads to unexplored at least vaguely original thinking.Posted 30th September 2011 at 07:31 PM by Parson
Updated 30th September 2011 at 07:33 PM by Parson (punctuation and clarity) -
Well, that's how I write, so naturally I think well of it. I have a general idea of what's going to happen and what the characters are going to do, but often I will find something one of them says or does that seems out of character, and I have to change it. Sometimes they'll ruin all my my plans for a scene or a neat piece of dialogue. Too bad for the scene or the dialogue. I need to think about what they would really say or do, and usually it surprises me because it's not just more plausible in terms of the character and setting, it's better in other ways, too. But I would never have thought of it had I been determined to follow the plan no matter what. I think the longer we are working on a story the better we understand the characters and setting, if only because we've been thinking about them so long. At the beginning, we haven't really made their acquaintance.Quote:
And I would imagine that in your case you've had a long time to get to know the characters you're writing about in your sermons! A large part of what I am talking about is knowing which questions to ask and when. I'm sure you've had the time to learn that, too.Posted 30th September 2011 at 08:05 PM by Teresa Edgerton
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But of course, everyone is different. Some can write the way TE does, some are actually able to wing it, and some have to have some meticulous planning and then go through draft after draft. It's whatever really works for you, but usually it's best to have certain details already laid out before you start-i.e., the setting, the landscape, and the personalities of each and every one of your characters. Good authors, I believe, should be able to be good psychologists as well. You have to know how your character will act, the reasons behind him/her/it acting the way it does, and how others will react to it, in both dialogue and action. You simply can't have a bear who loves to wear tutus and tap dance for no reason at all. While it might make for a comical picture, its face value is really all it has, and people tend to have tastes that change fast. Now if you came up with the reason that the bear was kidnapped as a cub and trained in the circus, getting treats for doing a good job, but later escaped and knew nothing of life outside his captor's tent, then you might have something interesting going on.Posted 30th September 2011 at 09:31 PM by Karn Maeshalanadae
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The psychology of bears point is an interesting one, Karn. I have been surprised since starting this writing lark by how much seems to come from nowhere. Characters I thought I had sorted out and analysed suddenly refuse to do as they're told. My romantic hero, for example, refused to get together with the girl at the end of the book -- which actually, when I looked at it, made complete sense. I must admit that it wasn't until I was writing the Scene in Which They Kiss that I realised what was going to (fail to) happen. Which is sort of backwards -- at least in conscious terms -- I understand why he did it, but only once he did. Is that my subconscious understanding things better than I do? I can't imagine what else it would be
Which brings me to Teresa's point about thinking things through. It worries me because I often have no idea where ideas come from. It concerns me that some ideas that just seem to spring, fully formed, into my head have come from other people's stories.
This has happened to me before with names: I had a sort-of-sidekick character called Tain for ages before I realised that the book I'd read just before I started writing had had a sort-of-sidekick character called Tain, and that flash of inspiration I'd thought I'd had... wasn't.
Also, not to go on, but the more I re-write the more I find my story becoming like other people's. Not completely, but recognisably. Partly it's needing to provide conflict, so at the start, my main character just fancied a bit of a change and got a job with the police. In later versions, she's driven away from what she's familiar with and accidentally ends up breaking the law, and that's how she meets up with the police... I think the second version makes for a more powerful start, which is probably why I haven't read a lot of books that start the way mine originally did...Posted 2nd October 2011 at 09:41 PM by Hex





