Leveling Up Your Craft as a Writer

This week at the SFF Seven, we're asking each other if our writing changed - and, if so, how?

It might seem disingenuous to say this, but yes my writing has changed: I've gotten better. 

I mean, one would hope so! 

And I realize that "better" is a nebulous descriptor, so I'll attempt to define it. One thing about writing skill that it seems I end up telling newbies over and over is that I absolutely have gotten faster at every stage of the process. It's like when you learn to drive a car. (And I learned on a stick shift, so there was an extra layer of learning curve there.) At first you consciously think about a hundred different aspects of the task: the brake, the accelerator, (maybe the balance between the clutch, the brake, and the accelerator, which was a real treat), steering, watching the front, the side, the rear view, reading street signs and traffic signals, and thinking several cars ahead, and remembering where you're going... It's a LOT to think about and overwhelming at first. But later, after you've been driving for years, you don't think about all of that anymore, right? Mostly I think about where I'm going and how to best get there - and sometimes I zone out and forget even that, defaulting to familiar routes - but otherwise the rest is subconscious.

Writing is the same way! (I include revising in this.) After time and practice, you don't have to think about the zillion details of craft, liberating your mind to focus on storytelling. 

I think this is something that more experienced writers forget - how much we've internalized the mechanics of the process, allowing us to allocate more resources to our creative selves. This freedom allows us to try new things, write more difficult and complex stories, to test our writing chops. Maybe it's like, to extend the analogy, learning to drive a race car or fly a plane. Going for the fancier skills is predated by learning the basics.

The thing is, I think a lot of us who grow up reading the works that inspire us (which should be all of us, really) have this idea that we can leap directly to doing THAT. Everybody loves the concept of the wunderkind, the prodigy, the creative who makes a list like "30 under 30," as if that's meaningful in any way. Spoiler: it's not meaningful; it's just unusual, which is why we're fascinated.

So, do what I advise the writers in my mentoring Discord: take your time, learn the basics. It *will* get easier. And THEN you can deliberately choose to make it harder!

 

Building Skills

 

This creative development question is my topic. It came to me because years ago, a friend who is now a very successful author decided to write her second book. She sat up in our local writer's meeting and said, "I want to make readers cry. I'm going to try to write a book that makes 'em cry." It stuck with me. She's continued with having a goal for each book - something that stretches her skills and at the time, I was envious of and intimidated by the conscious decision to attempt something like that. What if you failed? I've since gotten over that fear of failure silliness. New skills are new skills whether you execute them perfectly the first time or not. In the spirit of 'what doesn't kill me makes me stronger' nothing new that's attempted is ever wasted.

At the moment, however, I have only one goal. Recover from burn out and finish the book I'm working on so I can write the book that was due a few years ago. My goals for books are currently in a really simplistic place. I want to tell a competent, compelling story. I'll worry about technique after. I need the story to feel right before I can fuss with heightening whatever skill I stumbled on accidentally -  which is what usually happens. As an example, the book I'm currently working on requires that I learn how to handle a little bit of horror technique. I have no clue whether I'm doing it correctly. That will be for readers to decide. I'm *trying*. But it wasn't a conscious decision. It was simply what this story needed. It's the story that intrigued me enough to write and as I wrote it, the story revealed to me that it needed a reasonably high creep factor. This was a skill I did not (and to this day, may or may not) possess. But yes. I sought out a class. A couple, in fact. 

My next book requires me to tackle a theme that isn't entirely my forte. We've been eyeing one another, that theme and I. There's been research and some free writing around the associations and emotional loads. Now lets see if it will mature into a plot that won't bore readers to death. If I don't stick the landing, so what? I'll still have learned something that I'll carry forward into the next story. And the next.

As a part of the recovery process, I'm doing my best to keep writing as nourishing as possible. Some days that means fun. Some days that means challenging. Some days it means trying things I've never done before - with the awareness that such experimentation might not end up being ready for anyone else's eyes. That's okay. I look at it as building strength. It's also a useful way to break up writerly monotony. Experiment builds upon experiment, and eventually, there a new skill is likely to emerge.

Planning for specific skills for each book? No. Not yet. I'm not there yet. I aspire to be. Working on it. For right now, the stories lead the way. What they want, I attempt to deliver. Succeed or fail, I at least give it my best shot and trust I'm learning from the process. I expect that at some point, I'll learn enough that I'll be able to declare an objective like "I want to make them cry!" and be able to rise to the challenge. But for today, finishing is good enough.

Leveling Up - Whether We Want To or Not

This week at the SFF Seven we're asking each other: do you look for new skills to try each year? Or with each book?

My first reaction is that this isn't an annual process for me, but an ongoing one. Because it's absolutely something that happens with every book. And not because I plan it that way! Quite the reverse. With 65 published titles, I often go into new books thinking something along the lines of "This one will be a fast and easy write because x, y, z."

I am, inevitably, always always wrong.

That's not to say that some books don't write easier than others, but they all pose unique problems. It seems to be the nature of the beast, that the creative process goes to a new and more challenging place every time. 

I have two caveats to this:

1. I do kind of look at this on a yearly basis because of my agent, Sarah Younger at Nancy Yost Literary Agency, who sets up annual chats with all of her clients at the beginning of each year. (She jokes that she has to dig some clients out of their caves once a year for this. You know who you are.) I really love this about Sarah because it's part of what she brings to the table: long-term career strategy. She says she keeps a goal book for each of her clients and we revisit those goals and set new ones each year. For me, a big part of this conversation is always how can I grow and expand? What do I need to do to level up?
2. The second caveat is that I save some ideas for when I have the chops to execute them. Writers often talk about (and are asked) where they get their ideas and how we choose what to write next. (See above for that.) For many of us, ideas arrive all the time, but that doesn't mean we're ready to write them. The second novel I ever wrote was like that - only I didn't know that I didn't have the chops to execute the concept. So, over the years, I've gradually been adding skills as the stories demand them. In Shadow Wizard, book one of the Renegades of Magic trilogy, I added extra points-of-view (POVs). That was the first time I wrote in more than two POVs. In book three of that trilogy, Twisted Magic, I had five POVs. Who knows where it will end??

Except that someday (maybe?), I'd like to go back and rewrite that second novel. I bet I could pull it off this time.

 

Becoming a Better Writer - How to Do It?

      

 

ROGUE FAMILIAR has a cover!! I've been loving the enthusiasm for it, too. It's a great inspiration to me as I write Selly's hunt for Jadren. 

This week at the SFF Seven we're talking tools for writers who aren’t beginners. I seem to be hearing a lot of interest in this topic lately. I've been contemplating setting up some online classes and not long ago I asked for input on what kinds of classes people would like to see from me. (Feel free to comment or message me if you have ideas or requests!) One of the suggestions that came up often was a desire for classes for more advanced writers, targeting those who’ve written several books but want to learn how to keep getting better at it.

So, I've been working up some lists of more advanced topics I could teach - and thinking back to where I learned the intermediate and higher stuff. Some of it is always going to be self-study. Reading other authors. Listening to other writers talk about their process. Re-reading favorites to study how those writers accomplished what they did. I think those are the best tools.

But I'd also like to see more craft-focused workshops, classes, and discussions out there. For quite a few years, it seems, the bulk of information offered to writers seems to focus on business. There are countless opportunities to learn Facebook ads, newsletter marketing, keywords, BookBub ads, Amazon ads, ad infinitum, ad nauseam. Why? Because those are easy to teach. Teaching craft is a much more daunting prospect. In fact, I've heard debates among creative-writing professors about whether the craft of writing can be taught at all.

At any rate, this isn't a very informative post, I know. I'm not offering any good tools here (other than the above), but rather food for thought. Improving craft is something we all (well, most of us) want to do. I'm thinking up some ways to get at it. Suggestions welcome!

Leveling Goals

 Goal: Leveling up. How to get there? For me, writing classes. It's not enough to just want more words - that state is eternal. You can always assume I'm looking for a way to make stories happen faster and more efficiently. Over and above that, though, I'm interested in taking skills up a notch. I want to look at words differently. I want to think not just about what makes a story, but what makes a tale compelling. How do I get more emotion from characters into readers - if words are my only tools - I need to experiment with how they evoke a response in someone who isn't me. 

It's that old acting chestnut of Sir Lawrence Olivier supposedly saying, "It isn't my job to feel anything. It's my job to make the audience feel everything."

I'd started writing on the theory that if what I wrote made me feel something, then surely reads must, too. T'ain't necessarily so. Without getting into the showing versus telling diatribe, let's just say there are multiple ways to approach reaching out to touch a reader via nothing more than flat words printed on a page. 

That's my current work on leveling up. Concentrating on skills. While spurring for more words faster than they are currently being produced.

Leveling Up Ain't for Sissies

Ah, video game metaphors. I do love them so. 

Leveling up. Within geek culture it's accepted terminology for gaining new skills after time and effort spent integrating the last set of skills acquired. Toons get stronger. Fireballs crit more often. Mana pools deepen and armor gets better. I'd love for the same to be true for writers. 

If only.

The parallels are there. We add skills on top of skills, building our craft and customizing our 'build'. So why is there a photo of a bloody lioness in this post? Because when it comes to leveling up as a writer, it's a take no prisoners sport. 

Jeffe did a great job of breaking down the ways in which writers talk about leveling up. However. I will argue that the only meaningful way to level up as a writer is to keep your eye on what you can control. You. Your craft. How you do your job. You can absolutely set a financial goal and begin working toward it. But the fact of the matter is that you cannot force anyone to buy. You hope what you produce is compelling enough to bring all the readers to the bookstore. But, ultimately, what appeals to people is out of your control. (Yes. Even if you know your market and deliver reader expectation. Sometimes shit just happens.) But look. What can you control: 

1. comprehending your market and your readers

2. comprehending reader expectations and writing a story that delivers in spades

3. mastering your personal process

4. mastering boundaries both for yourself and for your loved ones and readers

5. setting and mastering craft goals that build one atop the other

6. accepting your current level rather than postponing writing because you're ulcerating for the next level

Last book, I went after telling words. Knew. Thought, Felt, Wondered, Saw. Heard. All the telling words. Next book, I'm going for murdering narrative and going for action attached to dialogue. These skills relate to one another and follow in logical order. I couldn't go for action without having put a stake through the heart of the telling words and finding better ways to talk about what my characters experience. Yeah, there are days I'm that lioness above - the blood I'm covered in is my own. In order to level up, I have to dig into my bad habits. I have to be brutal about my excuses and my own BS. There may be ice cream and chocolate occasionally involved. If I'm doing this right, if I really am leveling up, I should be providing my readers with better, more engaging books. Even if somedays are bloodbaths. 

Who Teaches the Teachers

Happy First Full Day of Summer, northern hemisphere folks. Welcome to winter, southern hemisphere folks.

If anyone wonders whether it is possible to consume too much watermelon whilst celebrating the arrival of summer, the answer is an unreserved yes. Blarg. But hey. One of the perks of Florida. Real watermelon - I mean the huge monsters the size of a toddler. As heavy. And with seeds. The local Mennonite communities farm them and sell them in produce stands all up and down the Tamiami Trail. The melons are sweet and juicy and messy.

And when you have just a little too much, they're a massive stomach ache. But hey! Lycopene. That's my story. I'm sticking to it and I'll likely repeat it tomorrow cause one massive melon between two people means lots of watermelon in the fridge.

When I asked this week's question - How do you level up your writing skills - I may have phrased it badly. It was supposed to garner a resource list of who we all go to in order to learn our craft. I mean, we're all of us here at different stages in our careers. And I like to ask people a few rungs ahead of me on the trail who they learn from. Because if I start studying those people NOW, I'll be challenging my craft and skills all the sooner.  And it really was a CRAFT question, not a marketing question. The internet if rife with people wanting your cash so they can teach you how to sell millions of books, but hurry, this offer ends soon!

Here's my list:
RWA chapter meetings and workshops - these were I learned the basics and it's an amazing place to start.
Critique groups - a healthy crit group brings everyone in it up because you learn from one another's mistakes. I adore the two I have.
Beta readers - beta readers are worth their weight in gold because these are the people who will call you out when you cheat the story or the characters or the reader with lazy writing.
Craft books - doesn't matter which ones. Just start. I try to work through three a year. Doesn't matter who wrote 'em. Doesn't matter if I think I'll hate the book(s). Someone else's take on how a story goes together forces me to stay conscious about what I do. Some days, I think this may not be a good thing. Analysis paralysis is a thing that exists and it's vital to strike a balance between learning new stuff and making yourself nuts. Author know thyself.
Fiction books - readreadreadread. Read for enjoyment. For the sheer pleasure of it. Because as you do, you're learning. I love finding a book that sucks me through beginning to end and then I sit there, frowning, going 'Wait. What the hell just happened there? How'd the author DO that??' I may read the book again to see if I can pick up pointers. Or I may simply move on, secure in the knowledge that no matter what, I learned more about story and character by reading the book.
Paid Classes - this is very much a buyer beware thing. First. You have to have the cash. But suppose you do. All I can suggest is that you follow your interests. What sounds intriguing to you from a writing class standpoint? I will admit to having had mixed results here. Some classes didn't sound interesting and then blew me away with all I don't know. BUT. Whenever you take a class, you learn something - even if what you learn is that what you just paid for isn't for you. It's knowledge. And no one can take that from you. That said, I do NOT think you have to go to paid classes to learn to write. Or even to skill up your writing.

The single best means of skilling up writing is by writing - especially if you take on writing you don't think you're good enough to attempt yet. Keeping one toe over the 'this is comfy' line is a sure way to stretch and grow as a writer.

Which leads me to the greatest teacher of all: Failure. If you can stand one last gaming reference, this is from World of Warcraft when I had a guild leader say: If you aren't failing, you aren't trying hard enough.

So come on into the trenches with me. I'm plowing headlong into failing as hard and as spectacularly as possible.

Writing a book is not a single-player RPG

When folks talk about “leveling up” writing craft, they’re slapping possibly the best metaphor in the universe on this process. Because writing a book is almost exactly like game-mastering a role-playing game. In which you are also playing all player characters. Alone. Deep into the night. And recording the whole thing in case someone, anyone, ever wants to hear about your fun made-up adventure that you had with yourself.

First you read the module (get the story idea and some rough sketch of the conflict and setting). Then you roll up heroes (main and secondary characters, with motivations and emotional problems and gear). Then you sit down at your little table for many hours and eat bad food and melt into this strange, magical, wonderful world you’ve devised.

And after you’ve defeated the big boss (written the first draft), it’s time to assign experience points and loot, and … level up.

Yes, leveling up is revision.

When I’m leveling up (revising) a book, the most helpful source books (tools) are going to be

• Critique partners—Get you some! At least one. I have three. These are professional writers who are at or above my skill level (not necessarily writing in my genre; the skill-level match is the key here) and do not hesitate to point out crap that isn’t working. They aren’t “oh I love everything you write” people. They are “eeew”-in-the-margin and “nope, he’d never say this” people. 
• A developmental editor—My publisher hooks me up with editors who read my icky drafts and offer suggestions for making the books better, but if you’re self-publishing, you need to go out and find a good dev editor on your own. Don’t skip this part. I don’t know a writer who turns out perfectly balanced and paced first drafts about adequately motivated characters. And I know some damn impressive writers.
• A read-along performance—I don’t mean you need to get up in front of an audience and read your book aloud. I do mean that you need to read your book aloud, though. Yes, the entire thing. Even those scenes that make you blush. (Have a glass of wine, if you need it.) Read the characters in their own voices and make sure the POVs are sufficiently distinct, the dialogue makes sense, and the chapter-ending hooks make you want to keep reading. If you stumble over a word or sentence when you’re reading it aloud, very likely there’s a problem in that spot. Flag it and move on, and later, you can come back and think, Ha! I spelled teh wrong and spellcheck totally let me down! Because this is not the kind of thing your eyes notice when you’re reading silently. But your mouth realizes that teh is completely unpronounceable and helps you fix all these embarrassing things.
• Beta readers—Contrary to some weird stuff I’ve heard lately, you do not need to pay for beta reading. Find another writer in your genre who you trust, and trade manuscripts. Or find a reader in your genre who is willing to read in exchange for a shout out in the Acknowledgements or chocolate or advance copies of all your books in perpetuity or just to elevate the genre. Note that a beta reader is not a line editor and is not responsible for your commas. You should have already sorted your commas by this point. Also, don’t use your book-buying readers as betas. Readers who buy the book should not also have a duty to tell you that your pacing is off or you’re showing rather than telling all through chapter six (why is it always chapter six?). Readers bought the book. Your job is to make sure that thing they bought is already a quality purchase.
• A line editor—To sort the dangling participles (you have some, I promise) and word repeats and 42-word sentences and language that might trigger or offend a reader in ways you would have never anticipated. A good line edit helps you polish the low-level, sentence-type stuff. It also points out bad habits you didn’t even know you had—oh, hello, overused "just" and made-up verbs! If you publish traditionally, this step might be rolled in with a white-glove treatment on your final revision, or it might be called something else. Regardless of what you call it, though, it’s the pre-copyedit and post-developmental edit. It’s the stage where your sentences learn to shine.
• A copy editor—Even if you are pretty sure you write clean, you still need a copy editor. Everyone needs a copy editor. Copy editors need copy editors. Because none of us are that good all on our own. Also, a good copy editor is not someone who did real well diagramming sentences in sixth-grade language arts. A good copy editor has memorized The Chicago Manual of Style and has training specifically in how to recognize inconsistencies and errors in a book-length manuscript. Get editing samples and references. Important note: you cannot hire a good copy editor for $50 for your 100k-word opus. (Read that sentence again. Cannot.)

So, okay, I lied. 

You aren’t running this adventure alone after all. 

Sure you can bang out the crappy first draft all by yourself at your little table in the dark of night and with Cheeto-stained fingers. But if you want those characters ever to get the Chain Lightning spell or the insta-kill +1 vorpal sword, you’re gonna need to get some other folks in on your game.

Stealing the Best and Leaving the Rest

A year or so ago, I went to a friend's house. We were making supper together, running our mouths and generally having a great time. Until she tried to clean a head of cauliflower. She had an itty bitty cutting board and a tiny, dangerously dull paring knife. I watched her hack away a green leaf or two for several seconds, my heart in my mouth, as she complained about how hard it is to cut up cauliflower.

Terrified that she was going to slice off a digit, I stopped her and asked if I could cut up the veggie while she moved on to other things. She gladly handed over the knife and the innocent head of cauliflower. I brought out the cutting board I'd brought - one at least three times the size of hers, and I brought out my 8 inch Shun knife. (Yes. When someone asks me over to help cook dinner, I do take my own tools.) I turned that cauliflower on its head, set my knife against the stem and sliced the whole thing in half like it was soft butter.  Within 120 seconds, I had the cauliflower cored and chopped, ready for the pan.

My hostess said bad words and demanded to know what she'd been doing wrong. The answer was simply: Wrong tools for the job.

Writing training, to me, is precisely the same. If you've never seen anyone take apart a book the way my hostess had never seen anyone take apart a big vegetable, you'll never know that your tools are inadequate to the job you're trying to do. So I'm always interested in how someone else approaches the task of building a novel and a career.

For me, as I take a writing class, I remind myself that I'm sorting through someone else's toolbox, just trying the tools on for size. Some don't fit my hand and never will. Others kinda sorta fit and might actually fit perfectly once I level up enough to need them. On rare occasions, I find a new tool - a new way of approaching story, a question for a character sketch that lays that person out for me. Whatever it is, I have zero compunction about picking up that tool and claiming it as my own.

My Zen attitude was hard won over several years, though. Used to be, I'd go to a workshop and come out convinced that I was doing writing all wrong. It would send me into a tailspin for weeks. I don't know when and how it changed, but I finally wised up. I wasn't doing anything wrong. I was simply doing things my way - and possibly with faulty tools. The people teaching workshops weren't there to judge my methods, they were merely sharing what worked for them in the off chance that someone else could use it, too. Now, it's all listening to presenters talk, picking up books on craft, and making sure I get words every day.

Where you go to learn depends entirely on what you're wanting to level up. I DO recommend pacing yourself. Work on one thing at once. Don't tackle deep POV the same month you're working on eliminating telling words. Trying to pay attention to everything at once is the road to perdition.

I go to Mary Buckham and will take just about any class she has to offer because I've learned that Mary speaks my language and has the unique ability to break down story, character, scene and sequel, and hooks in a way I can process. This is thick stuff, though. Light 'n fluffy it ain't.

Conferences - especially the conferences aimed at the business end of writing. If I were looking for an agent or a new editor, I'd go to RWA National. I'd go to workshops and I'd pitch. But those aren't my goals now so I save my pennies for the annual NINC conference. It is jammed full of workshops and presentations from various vendors who work with the indie published authors. It's the place where indie authors gossip and chat about business. I learn more in those three days than I do almost a year long.

The hard news, though? There aren't enough tools in the world will change it if you don't write the thing.

Learn craft, sure. But above all, learn yourself.

The Year of Challenge

A few years ago, based on I have no idea what, I started proclaiming each year as The Year of <Insert a Writing Point to be Worked on Here>. One year was the year of action. Another was the year of getting emotion on the page - or at least seeing if I could up my game on that point. This past year has been the year of taking 'telling' phrases out of my writing. As much as possible. These are the phrases that generally start 'character knew', 'character thought', 'character wondered', or 'character felt'. There might be more. But yeah. That's been my own personal little challenge.

This year is the year of learning to write to an outline. Why? Because I am the queen of overwriting and I would very much like to give up the crown. No. Seriously. Queen of Overwriting. The cut file for the current WIP is longer than the target 100k word count of the manuscript. Literally two novels. One to keep. One to throw away. The *incredible* waste of time and effort. Feel free to picture me shaking my head and knocking back a gulp of tea. This is no way to run a railroad. Or write a novel.

So this year. I learn to plot, outline, and then do my damnedest to not write an entire extra novel in the pursuit of the novel I do want written. Yes. I am still a character driven writer. And I do actually expect a book to drift from an outline, but the thing I'm hoping to get from this endeavor is a means of visualizing the story's skeleton. What flesh I hang upon that skeleton is up to me and the characters, but with the skeleton available to me, I have fantasies of being able to actually finish a novel draft in a reasonable time frame. Say 90 days.  I'd like faster, but I don't want to get ahead of myself here. 

The other thing I hope for is more coherent storylines. See. I'm a little like the writer/artist for Hyperbole and a Half. Give me a story to write and I want to include ALL THE THINGS! With an outline, I'd have a simple yardstick for whether or not my umpteenth subplot actually serves the theme. Again. In my fantasies. 

So yeah. The Year of Learning to Outline. Better stories, less waste. I think I can sell that.