Category Archives: Writing Methods

NaNoWriMo and Isaac Asimov

Every year, during November, thousands of budding authors take part in the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). They’re using their spare time during these thirty days to write a novel.

NaNoWriMo Overview

That may sound impossible, but over 400,000 people will participate this year. Perhaps 20% of them will meet the requirements, to write 50,000 words in 30 days. When they’re done, they’ll feel immense relief in December and will relax after the strain of writing so much.

Of the “winners” (who don’t really win anything), many will edit their manuscript and some will see their work published. A handful might make some money from sales.

Purpose

If you scoff at the low success rate, you’re missing the point. NaNoWriMo aims to get you accustomed to writing fast, to spilling the words out. You can always go back and edit 50,000 words to improve the prose, maybe molding the manuscript into a suitable shape for publication. At least you have a first draft to work from, and that’s further than most wannabe novelists get.

Some Math

Simple division tells me a NaNoWriMo participant must scribble, on average, 1,667 words every day during November to accomplish the goal. That’s almost 1,700 words. Every day. Why does that wordcount number ring a bell?

Isaac Asimov

The brilliant and prolific science fiction author Isaac Asimov once said, “Over a space of 40 years, I published an average of 1,000 words a day. Over the space of the second 20 years, I published an average of 1,700 words a day.”

There’s that 1,700-word number again. Think about that. Long before NaNoWriMo even started in 1999, Dr. Asimov wrote the equivalent of a NaNoWriMo every month. For twenty years. That’s 240 NaNoWriMos back-to-back.

More amazing, he didn’t just write that much. Every word he wrote during those twenty years got published.

Dr. A’s Secrets

In achieving that, several factors worked in his favor, advantages you and I may lack.

  • He was a genius, and a member of MENSA. He earned a PhD in Chemistry from Columbia, and taught biochemistry. A polymath, he’s one of few authors who published high-quality, authoritative books in nearly every major category of the Dewey Decimal System.
  • He timed things well. Asimov enjoyed writing science fiction just when the reading public demanded more of it than authors could supply.
  • He wrote in a plain, unadorned style, typed ninety words a minute, and didn’t over-edit. Those traits allowed him to churn out words faster than most.
  • He benefited from a favorable snowball effect. (1) The more he wrote, (2) the better he got, (3) the more of his books got purchased by readers, (4) the more famous he got, (5) the more enthused he got about writing…back to (1) and around again. A positive-feedback loop.

Lessons for Us

Perhaps the rest of us shouldn’t compare ourselves to Dr. Asimov. On the spectrum from low-output to high-output, he breaks the scale at the high end, one of the most prolific writers of all time.

Still, if he were alive today, he might well ask, “What’s so special about November?” Why not do NaNoWriMo every month? Perhaps that positive feedback loop that worked for him would work for you, too, at least to some extent.

That may serve as the real lesson of both NaNoWriMo and Asimov’s success. Writing at breakneck speed means you write more, and in time, through practice, you may write better.

If you aspire to become a writer, try writing 1,700 words today. Should you fall short of that, at least try writing more tomorrow, and more the next day. When you achieve a daily wordcount of 1,700, keep going at that rate.

Try NaNoWriMo every month. Maybe you won’t get 500 books published, as Isaac Asimov did, but perhaps some measure of literary success lies in the future for you and—

Poseidon’s Scribe

November 17, 2024Permalink Leave a comment

Have Computers Made Writing Easier or Harder?

Unlike writers of the past, we own computers to make our lives easier. But the machines arrived with plenty of baggage. Have they been worth it?

For most of human history, authors wrote by hand with a scribbling implement making marks with ink on some form of paper. (We’ll ignore the ages of chiseling into stone or making impressions on clay.) By the late 1800s, typewriters became commercially available. Only in the last forty years have writers turned to computers.

The Case for the Pen

Consider the ease and simplicity of pens or typewriters vs. computers. No passwords, no two-factor authentication, no need for backups, no pull-down menus, no need to pay for software updates, and no viruses. No chance of some hacker stealing your manuscript. No need to recharge or (except for electric typewriters), plug in to an outlet. Most of all, with pens or typewriters, there’s little to learn first—you just start writing.

The Case for the Computer

To be fair to computers, we’ve gained much in return, compared to previous methods. We see our text instantly, as it will appear in final form. That’s something. We’ve also swept away the piles of paper and books, the fire hazard that used to clutter a writer’s office. Also, we use the same computer for research, mostly eliminating the need to pore through dusty tomes for obscure facts. We can search through previously written text more easily than flipping through pages.

Side Benefits

Yes, I’m aware of studies showing increased brain activity when writing with pen and paper compared to using computer keyboards. But for purposes of this post, I don’t care about brain activity. I’m concerned with overall ease of use.

Summary

Computers render certain writing tasks easier—storing, retrieving, searching, and researching. Pens and typewriters ease other writing aspects—ready access, cost, learning, and security.

Decision

Like so many other facets of writing, different writers find their own methods easier. You must make this decision yourself. Sorry if this seems like a copout, but what’s true for you may not be true for—

Poseidon’s Scribe

May 29, 2024Permalink

Your Type of Writing

Your personality type determines how you write and what you write. Sorry, but that’s a proven scientific fact (says the guy who’s not an expert on personalities, science, or writing for that matter).

In last week’s post, I cited Lauren Sapala’s claim that two Myers-Briggs personality types seemed most suited to pantsing (writing without an outline), rather than plotting. That got me wondering—does your Myers-Briggs Type Indicator reveal your writing process, and the genre of your fiction?

Kate Scott explored this topic well and I recommend her post. What follows is my whimsical take. To determine your type, take this online quiz. Then skip to my assessment of your type. If my write-up doesn’t ring true, well, I warned you. If you do identify with what I wrote, that proves even a blind pig, etc.

ENFJ

Process—Lucky you keep a notebook of interesting words and phrases. Now post that calendar with the deadline circled, and get ready to educate the world. If you can’t collaborate with a co-author, then at least consult.

Genre—Young Adult, with realistic teenage dialogue

ENFP

Process—Time to brainstorm with fellow writers. Get the feel of each character—know them like family. Let those metaphors and similes flow.

Genre—literary fiction or highbrow romance, where you connect your characters to the big ideas, the eternal aspects of human nature

ENTJ

Process—You joined a writer’s group, and soon became its president. You’ve researched all aspects of your book and could teach a college-level course in each. You’ve posted a mind-map on the wall near the executive chair in your ‘command bunker.’ All that remains is to adhere to your detailed outline.

Genre—technothrillers bristling with advanced gadgets, accurate in every detail

ENTP

Process—Peruse your ‘ideas file,’ now bulging with dozens, even hundreds, of story ideas. Bounce notions off your online fan club, or sit with friends at the coffee shop to discuss the book. Follow the intricate plan you’ve laid out.

Genre—mysteries featuring a clever detective, or other problem-solving stories where your hero contrives an ingenious solution to a bedeviling dilemma.

ESFJ

Process—you take your voice recorder everywhere, ‘writing’ by talking first. Collaboration? Heck, you tell everyone about your book, from the grocery clerk to your co-workers. Outlines bore you, so you write on the fly.

Genre—any popular genre, since you know what readers want, but always in first-person, like you’re telling a campfire story

ESFP

Process—You host a party, and the main entertainment is a freeform brainstorm of your story. A few drinks liven things up. For the actual writing, if you’re not collaborating with one or more co-authors on the effort, you wish you were.

Genre—romance, featuring your clever wordplay. with a huge cast of characters, often attending parties

ESTJ

Process—Somebody’s put out a submission call you like, so it’s time to sit at your well-ordered desk and craft an outline. Soon a theme emerges as you work to achieve each milestone of your plan.

Genre—short stories in any genre, prompted by submission calls, written in clear prose, about characters using logic to resolve conflict

ESTP

Process—Good thing you’ve assembled your collection of note cards with all the facts you’ll need. Now head to your favorite restaurant with your writer friends. Once the outline’s done, get the story written and published, because the real fun is at the book signings.

Genre—any genre where your characters can talk their way out of difficult jams

INFJ

Process—You’ve been people-watching in the park, notebook in hand, so you’ve now formed an image of your characters. You even know which actors should play them in the (please let it be!) movie. No outline will constrain you as you let the characters take the story where they will.

Genre—Romance, of course

INFP

Process—Home now after your daily nature walk, you retire to your writing niche, energized by fragrant incense and stimulated by seeing your favorite decorations. Time to write, unhindered by outlines or any assigned topics, you write what you want. You’re no sell-out to the market.

Genre—literary fiction of a deep, introspective, and moody nature

INTJ

Process—You’ve never shown anyone where you write, and you call it your ‘secret lair.’ A blueprint of your story fills the screen of one of the monitors on your desk. Maybe that first draft didn’t work, but that’s why you edit.

Genre—science fiction, alternate history, or steampunk, but always containing political overtones

INTP

Process—It’s well past midnight, but you don’t care, or even notice. You’re writing what you like. The detailed outline guides you. Thanks to careful research, and your collection of how-to-write books, you’ve learned a lot, and that’s the point.

Genre—mixed-genre novels, the kind booksellers can’t categorize, as well as experimental novels that explore untried plot structures

ISFJ

Process—You’ve done your research and know the plot types and tropes that work for readers. You’ve carved out this time to work without interruption, after first ensuring others in your home don’t need you for anything.

Genre—Historical fiction, in your easy style, all parts in harmony, designed to entertain and educate

ISFP

Process—You’re outdoors, on your deck or patio, or in the park, music playing in your earbuds. In your mind, you picture a reader enjoying your book. You just returned from a trip to the city of your novel’s setting, where you soaked in the ambiance of the place. That brisk walk you took earlier sure stimulated your muse and collected your thoughts about the submission call you’ve chosen to respond to.

Genre—novel-in-verse or literary fiction

ISTJ

Process—Here in your home library, surrounded by reference books (including a well-thumbed thesaurus), outline, schedule, and spreadsheets, you’re set to go. You’ve also hand-built a model of the very thing you’re writing about, to inspire you.

Genre—mysteries with a clever detective

ISTP

Process—Above your desk, you’ve posted a clear, one-sentence goal for your book. Nobody tasked you to write this book, and nobody else could craft it as well. You’re going to work as long and as hard as it takes to meet your high standards. Nothing but the Great American Novel will do.

Genre—any established genre, and you aim for the top spot in it

Eerie, isn’t it, how I knew your writing process and genre from your Myers-Briggs personality type alone? What can I say? It’s a super-power reserved to, (and used only for good by)—

Poseidon’s Scribe

April 21, 2024Permalink

Writing Like I Don’t—Pantsing

Could you ‘pants’ your way through a novel? I couldn’t.

Definition

‘Pantsing’ means writing without an outline—writing by the seat of your pants. That idiom, by the way, builds on the idea of mariners ‘sailing by the stars.’ In the early days of aviation, pilots who flew without instruments or navigational aids were said to be ‘flying by the seat of their pants.’

I’ve blogged about pantsing before, mainly here and here, but those posts contrasted plotters and pantsers. Today I’d like to concentrate on pantsers alone.

To me, pantsing seems strange, alien, almost unimaginable. Being curious by nature, I’d like to try it sometime. I’ve read blogposts by a few pantsers, and it seems like something I might just be able to do. In a short story, maybe, not a novel.

How to

How does pantsing work? According to the Writing Mastery Academy, you start with an idea, get to know your characters, remain open to inspiration, track your story with a simple organizational system, and keep your end goal in mind. The organizational system they recommend is not an outline written in advance (that wouldn’t be pantsing). It’s a very simple outline or set of notes compiled while writing, more like a rearview mirror view to organize what you’ve written.

Ariele Sieling’s process seems similar, but emphasizes different things. She says you should sit down, find your glimmer, say what comes to mind, and don’t stop. The ‘glimmer’ is the starting point, the ‘glimmer of an idea.’ I’d say the ‘don’t stop’ part goes along with ‘keeping your end goal in mind’ from the previous paragraph.

The Secret

But, without an outline, how do you keep your novel from going all over the place, on crazy tangents, or having minor characters start hogging the limelight, or changing your protagonist’s eye color several times? Lauren Sapala’s answer is to trust yourself and your process. It will work out alright. You can fix all those problems in later editing.

Not my Type

In another post, Lauren Sapala explains you don’t have much choice anyway. You can’t choose whether to write like a plotter or pantser—your personality dictates the choice. Using Myers-Briggs Type Indicator terminology, she says INFJ or INFP personalities seem most suited to pantsing. Those stand for Introverted-Intuitive-Feeling-Judging and Introverted-Intuitive-Feeling-Perceiving. Experts often describe these two personality types as the Advocate and the Mediator.

Since I’m an INTJ (Architect), that might explain why I don’t lean toward pantsing.

Point on a Line

Still, there’s hope for me yet. According to Kristina Adams, plotting and pantsing don’t result from a binary choice. They lie on a spectrum, depending on how much you rely on a previously written outline, how detailed that outline is, and how firm you are about sticking to it. You may write at any point along that spectrum.

What Pantsing Isn’t

As you read this post, some of you, no doubt, wondered if the opposite of pantsing is to write without wearing pants. That sounds easier than pantsing (as I’ve described it) and perhaps it’s worth some experimentation by—

Poseidon’s Scribe

April 14, 2024Permalink