The Good, the Bad, the Easy, and the Difficult

 

Two fer one Void Bois, speaking of who has it easy in this household.

The good, the bad, the easy, and the difficult.

We're questioning which scenes are better, the easy or the difficult. I assume we're talking about easy or hard to write as opposed to read. I've read scenes authors claimed were a breeze to write, but they were really tough to read. Then I've read scenes authors struggled over that went down like syrup, lovely and sweet.

Now that I think about it, it doesn't matter whether we're talking about writing or reading. Easy scenes have their place. Difficult scenes have their place. 

If you're writing, you may run across a treatise by someone who likes to claim that ALL scenes should be easy. That you should always be itching to get to write those scenes because they excite you so much. Maybe it works that way for some people. Maybe there's a medication I could take that would make it that way for me. But writing isn't that way for me and I'll argue it's not for most writers. We all have different strengths. As a result, we're all going to be drawn to finding different scenes more attractive than others. For me, the easy scenes are the volunteers - the images, dialogue, and action that come to me from out of nowhere. There's a duel scene in Enemy Within that happened like that. Popped up out of nothing as I was trying to go to sleep one night. Little sleep was had that night while I got that scene down. It wrote itself, I just showed up to the go between for scene and keyboard. And it's a good scene. At least, I adore it.

But then there's the tough stuff. These are the scenes we agonize over. Well, okay. *I* do. I didn't get to do emo teen angst, okay? I make up for it when I write. 

The tough scene came at the end of Enemy Within when I sat staring at the last (unwritten) quarter of the book wondering what on earth to do. It took a critique partner snapping at me to go away and make everything much, much worse for the final climax scene. It was just the kick in the brain necessary to really start digging into problem-solving those final pages. It was torturous and it took long, hard hours of writing and rewriting to make things as grim as they needed to be. But you know, a funny thing happened on the way to bloody and grim - I began enjoying myself. It was mighty damned satisfying to hack my way through the weeds and uncover something worthwhile. Hard as the scene was to write, I suspect it's an even better scene than the one that volunteered so readily.

And regardless. Both scenes were crucial to the arc of the story. So easy? Hard? Who cares so long as the end result is a finished novel.

Elation to Damnation

Ullr's elation face

  The easiest scene I ever wrote and why? 

I could go one of two ways with this one…so which way do I want to go. The easiest way I guess! 

The easiest scene I’ve ever written was the very first scene I ever wrote in the first book I ever wrote, the book that went on to earn me the national recognition of a Golden Heart.

If you don’t know, I started writing because after seeing me come home with armloads of books one too many times my husband told me to write one. And I seriously though about it decided I wanted to write a book that I could put on the shelves in the treatment rooms of the cancer centers where I worked. I wanted to give the gift of escape to my patients. 

But how do you start writing a novel? I knew how to read them—I was really really good at that. But actually writing a book was HUGE and I was at a loss. 

Then I had a dream. 

In my dream I was a young woman—yeah yeah not much of a stretch there but hey, start with the familiar—who had left her lover sleeping in their cabin and was in search of breakfast. I love food, even my subconscious loves food. 

My shoulders tighten as I walk. I know I shouldn’t wander out of my cabin—I haven't been safe since the night—but that only fuels my need to get out, even for a moment. The weight of my skirts are heavy against my legs, holding me back. I press my palms against the silky fabric, steeling myself, and continue on.

I follow the gilded handrail to the dining saloon, or perhaps it's the warm aroma of croissants and coffee that draws me there. I peer through the open door and my stomach cramps at the first sight of a pastry basket on an open table. Without a second thought I breeze inside without a glance at the room's occupants.

After the waitress pours my tea I look up and met the gaze of the man seated a table over. He absently nods and turns back to his discussion with the white-haired gentleman next to him…a man in uniform, a uniform that matched his highly decorated one.

My face goes numb and a chill spreads down my body. I glance around the room—at all the nearly filled tables—and my chest squeezes. I know who they are, and they're here to kill me. 

I sit frozen, waiting for them to recognize me, to jump up and point and scream my direction. But of all the soldiers conversing and eating around me...no one notices me. 

No one notices me. 

A heady rush fills me and lightens my limbs. I almost laugh out loud. I'm safe. I could get up, walk out of the dining saloon, and disappear. I'm more than safe, I'm free.

My heart rips in two and painfully exhale, "Hawkin—" 

I’ve left him sleeping in my bed...and our friends in the next room. What kind of a person am I that I could think to walk away? That I could leave them to die? 

A voice in my head whispers of freedom, telling me how easy it would be to stand up and leave it all behind, to never be hunted again. My breath fill my ears.

But is being safe worth the nightmares? My hand fists on the white table cloth. 

I half stand, and drop my handkerchief near the general. He notices—as I intended—and retrieves it for me. I give him a warm and demure smile of thanks, a mask that he believes. Then, I accept his invitation, since no lady should dine alone, and seat myself next to my enemy.

Yes I’ve written this scene before, yes I’ve even rewritten this scene a handful of times—the first time I wrote this was 8 years ago—and yes I’ve since written better ones for other books. But this version is as I recall experiencing it and I typed it out in under five minutes because it’s still the easiest scene I’ve ever written. 

The why is actually very simple. I experienced this scene by smelling it, breathing it, and touching it. So, putting it to paper comes naturally and even though it’s gone through a few revisions—steampunk aspects removed, a little magic added, some secondary character tweaks, and added clarity for my main character—the heart of the scene remains the same. 

This scene’s about being trapped in a cage only to find out you have a clear path to freedom…but that choice means having to leave something you love behind and you have to grapple with that reality before you can decide which direction you’re going to go. 

Elation to damnation. 

Alright, your turn. Do emotions drive your scenes? What about your easiest scene, was it driven by circumstances or the character?

Which Are Better - the Easy Scenes or the Hard Ones?

 

This is a band of smoke from the California fires streaming into New Mexico. It's fascinating what an obvious demarcation it makes in the sky. Compare this to where I am (the blue dot) on the smoke map. So happy to be in the blue sky section today!

Our topic at the SFF Seven this week is the easiest scene we ever wrote and why. 

I have no idea what the answer would be for me - but I can tell you exactly why that's the case.

Easy writing or hard writing: doesn't matter and isn't worth thinking about. 

It's tempting to assign value to hard work. We grow up learning to focus effort and that hard work will be rewarded. We also celebrate talent and marvel at those people who accomplish amazing things when they're very young, challenged, or with brilliant ease.

So, we think: that was really difficult, so it must be valuable!

Or, we think: that writing poured out like clear spring water so it must be really good!

I'll tell you what I've learned. 

1. The hard-to-write scenes are exhausting and make me want to pull my hair out and give up being a writer. 
2. Those scenes that pour out are a sheer joy and making being a writer totally worth it.
3.  When I go back over the writing later, I have no idea which was which. I can't tell the difference.

I can't tell you what was the easiest scene I ever wrote, much less why. There's no rhyme or reason to it. Some writing comes easy, some resists so hard that every word is like pulling a tooth. The only effect is on my attitude, so I do my best to remind myself of this:

Easy, hard, fast, slow - it's all progress and that's the only thing that matters.