How many
bestselling novels were made up on the fly?
How many were scribbled on a yellow pad while someone lounged on a
beach, or were dictated into a recorder while someone traveled across the
country on a bus?
Okay, I do not have the exact
answer. But I’m betting it’s zero, or
the number adjacent to zero. The plain
truth is that you must flesh out the concept and have, at least, the bones of a
story before you begin writing.
It’s a fanciful idea that an entire
book simply spills itself out onto your pages, needs no reworking, and becomes
the next great novel of our time. Most
stories percolate in the writer’s mind for months or years before they unfold into
an outline, then slowly arise in polished form.
And the word too many writers hate
is “outline.” They come from the right
side of the brain where witty lines occur and passion reigns, and outlining
(organizing, measuring, structuring) is a left-brain thing. So they resist it. They tell themselves they have more talent
than those pitiful folks who have to outline to stay on track. Their story
needs no such limitations, but can flow where the wind blows. Their characters
are so real, so vibrant, that they take over the story and lead it in a
completely different direction. Why, even the lowly, British manservant can
rise up and become king in their book. Or an astronaut.
Do you see what I’m saying? People who refuse to outline, who allow their
daily mood to take the story careening off a cliff, are invariably puzzled by
readers’ refusal to follow them down that rabbit hole. That’s not to say you can’t surprise your
audience, but you can’t insert events that stretch believability to the
snapping point.
And an outline will keep that from
happening. Let me try to make it less
painful. You think of a great idea for a
movie or a book. Write the gist of the
plot on your computer. Include trials
and hardships that pull the main character(s) from their goal. Jot down where the climax of the story
occurs. Jot down the resolution. You now have an outline. Yes, this is the most simplistic form an
outline can take, but at least it will keep the butler from going into space.
From here you can fill in the flesh
on the bones. Add those sparkling scenes
that made you want to write this in the first place. Insert the funny lines. Include those suspenseful moment when all
seems lost. Keep adding details as they
come to you, putting them in the right places.
You will have a wonderful overview of the story, and you’ll see where
you need faster pacing, more description, or less verbiage.
The time you spend outlining will be—I
promise you—the best investment you can make.
It will save you hours and hours of actual writing time, and more
importantly, rewriting time. Can you still let a character jump off the
tracks and take your story a new way?
Absolutely. Can a manservant
still rise up and do something remarkable?
Of course. But it will be
something the reader will believe because you’ll create a new outline that
embraces this innovative idea. You’ll
back up your impulse, you’ll drop in hints early on so it doesn’t seem reckless,
and the final result will read rich, instead of rash.
No comments:
Post a Comment