Writing energy boost # 1—Ink & Blood

CrossedQuills

When one of our writing meetup members—I’ll call him Rafe*—mentioned that he was planning to participate in an Ink & Blood writing duel, my first question was “what’s that?” followed closely by my second: “why would you ever do it?”

Answer the First: Ink & Blood/Chicago holds writing duels at G-Mart Comic Books on the third Saturday of most—if not all—months. Writers are paired off and given a writing prompt and ten minutes to write something based on it. At the end, the winner is decided by audience vote. Heckling, Rafe said, is encouraged.

Answer the Second: Why, I asked Rafe, would anyone volunteer to write something off the top of their heads in front of other people, only to be heckled? And how does the “loser” feel once the winner is declared? He shrugged. “It’s a good exercise.” He’d done it before, and had not been declared the winner; he still planned to do it again. I decided I had to see this for myself.

The Event

BK keeps one eye on the TV schedule during college football season (the Vols were on TV the night of October 18), so I begged Cookie to go with me. As she’s the definition of a good sport, she not only agreed, she drove. The duels started at 8 p.m. There were costumes (because, you know, October). There were also masks. I got the impression there might be masks even if it wasn’t October. Writers were identified by such catchy monikers as Writer A, Writer B, Writer C, etc.

There was also beer, which was pretty much free, though they did accept contributions for it. I’ve discovered a stout I like: New Holland Brewing Company’s Oatmeal Stout. But that’s beside the point. The point is: writing duels. You’re still wondering how they work.

Two writers sat at laptops behind a large screen so the audience couldn’t see them. In front of this masking screen were two monitors, each linked to one of the writers’ laptops. Also in front of the screen stood the evening’s emcee. The emcee’s job was to get the audience riled up and to elicit writing prompts from the crowd. It being the Halloween-themed event, there were many prompts along the lines of blood and graveyards and ghosts. The emcee would choose one, and the writing would commence.

Three preliminary match-ups ran, after which we drank (more) beer and voted for the writers we wanted to see in the final round. Then there was a costume contest. The winner was ghost in a white tuxedo and top hat, wearing a monocle. (S)he looked fabulous!

One of the writers who made it to the final round had written a Choose-Your-Own-Adventure-style narrative in the first round, which simply begged for audience response. Great tactic. The other writer did an excellent job sticking to the topic and finished her writing with a flourish which tied everything together in a satisfying way.

For this final round, each writer ran true to form. The Choose-Your-Own-Adventure writer wrote in that style again, while the other writer went for unity and stuck the landing.

The Choose-Your-Own-Adventure style was fun, but when the same writer did it again, it felt gimmicky to me. If the second writer had a gimmick, it was artistic unity. I always like that, so she got my vote. I know this writer was a woman because in the end she won and came out front to claim her accolades. All the writers were good, though. She might have been the named winner, but I wouldn’t call any of the others losers.

On the topic of heckling

When Rafe first described the event, I told him I couldn’t imagine participating in a writer’s duel on account of the heckling. He said it didn’t bother him and afterwards I understood why. The audience behavior didn’t seem exactly like heckling. It was more like egging the writers on and offering “helpful” suggestions, like “don’t correct your typos!”

The advice not to correct typos came in particularly handy in one instance. The writer had one character offer another character a cup of cider and then wrote that there was a strange odder coming from the cup.

A few people called out variations of “don’t drink the cider!” (assuming the writer meant odor rather than odder), but some more ironic audience members said things like “What kind of otter? River or sea? That must be one big cup of cider, if it’ll hold an otter!”

The writer used these comments to advantage, explaining in subsequent paragraphs that the creature in the cup was a miniature sea otter, and so adorable that many people preferred to call it an “awwwder.”

I can now see how heckling, if you’d call it that, could energize a writer. I’m thinking of giving writers’ duels a try. After November. Because as we all know, November is National Writing Month, and I’m woefully underprepared.

However, events like Ink & Blood duels have really pumped some writing energy into me lately. I’m definitely writing more than I have for a while.

I’ll talk about my other writing energy boosts in upcoming posts. We’ll need that because, you know. November.

*pseudonym

So there’s this Magical Medicine Show…now what?

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One can work in one’s peignoir

The lovely people at National Novel Writing Month are pushing a new thing, or at least a thing I don’t remember them being as pushy about in previous years. Now that we’ve all written a novel, they’re all about making it good. And because I’m into the whole “Show Your Work” movement, you get to read about how I’m going about making it good.

NaNoWriMo works for me because of the combination of deadlines and the group solidarity. In the past, I either haven’t had a novel with any potential, or I didn’t want to go through the scary, scary revision process all on my own. Luckily, one of my writing peeps, KatherineWriting is leading an editing path as an activity of our local writing group, The Writing Journey. She’s all about deadlines and group solidarity. This past week, those of us who are participating received an email with this request from her:
Please post a brief blurb about what you’re planning to do for the Editing Path. (Often it helps people achieve their goals if they write them down.)

  • Where are you starting? It doesn’t have to be chapter one.
  • What do you intend to do first? Quick overview changes, detailed line by line, or ?
  • How much do you hope to get done in February? How many chapters per week?

Here are my answers.

Where am I starting?

Pretty close to the beginning. I spent December and the beginning of January going through the novel I drafted in November of 2012 and November of 2013. I smooshed the two drafts together and attempted to remove extraneous character, scenes, etc. I’ve been looking at the first section with mixed feelings of dismay and delight, mucking around in it a bit. Time to stick a fork in it and move on.

What am I doing first?

I’d like to get it to pass the sniff test—making sure it doesn’t stink. Shall I count the ways in which it might stink? That will take too long. The least painful way to ease in will probably be to:

  1. Fill in the blanks. I have some bracketed and/or highlighted text which might denote a missing character name, location or some specific research detail. So fix those bits.   
  2. Make sure I buy the character motivations. I remember a few of them as needing work.   
  3. Remove overwriting and redundancies. Repetitive redundancies. You know, where you say things more than once even though the reader got it the first time.
  4. If I have any time after that, I’d like to fill in specific sensory details. More showing, less telling. Not so much white room syndrome. All that good stuff.

How much do I hope to get done in February?

I would dearly love to get the novel in good enough shape to share with beta readers (alpha readers?) by the beginning of March. Or by March 14 at the latest. It’s not exactly in chapters, more like scenes or sections. A March 1 deadline would mean about one section (averaging 4500 words) per day; I’m not sure I can do that in three hours, let alone one. I may or may not have the damned thing* ready by May. Though of course if I feel I’m on the right track, I can always start sharing chapters before I’m all the way through. That’s probably what I’ll end up doing. If you like being of service to your fellow man (or woman in this case) watch this space for requests for beta readers.

*Sorry. I didn’t mean “damned thing.” I meant “my wonderful, exciting novel about which I’m passionate.”

Gearing up for NaNoWriMo

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National Novel Writing Month: be there or be square

I don’t write as much as I should. I have managed to pump out over a million words, but that sounds like more than it really is, especially when some of what I’ve written is sheer navel-gazing. Not to put too fine a point on it.

November is the one short window of time when I can’t help but write a novel. It may not be much of a novel…scratch that. It definitely won’t be much of a novel, at least not without buttloads of revision. However, it’s one more novel than I might otherwise write. For me, any anxiety that it might not be the best thing ever is entirely beside the point. One of my writer buds, Todd, shared a story that appears in the book Art & Fear by David Bayles and Ted Orland. In this story, a ceramics teacher divided his class into 2 groups. One group was told they’d be graded entirely on the quantity of the work they produced while the other was told they would be graded on quality.

If someone in the quantity group made 50 lbs. of pots, they’d get an “A”, 40 lbs. would earn them a “B”, etc. The ones in the quality group only had to produce one pot, but it had to be “perfect” to get an “A”. If it needed a tweak or two, the pot would get a “B”, etc.

So what happened? When it was all over, the “quantity” group ended up producing more pots of greater quality. They had plenty of opportunities to practice and learn from their mistakes. The “quality” group had a lot of theories about perfection, but the theories didn’t appear to translate to better work. Makes a person think. Anyway, this November, as I have since 2010, I’m throwing 50,000 pots…er, 50,000 words or so at a story idea I have, and seeing what I learn from doing it.

I’m not saying that it’s going to be easy. Writing 2000 words a day, give or take, will take a lot of will power or ego strength or something. A lot of other things might not get done—like vacuuming or meals cooked from scratch. Luckily my sainted sister always hosts Thanksgiving, so I won’t have that issue. And there are a few days—like Cookie Day or Thanksgiving—when I may write fewer words, and which I’ll have to make up for on another day.

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Hmmm…decisions, decisions

I also intend to be especially good to myself—mostly cookies and almost no radishes. That is some stellar advice I got from another writing bud, Jen.

Jen and Todd and a lot of other fellow travelers/Nanowrimos are a huge part of why I know this is doable. If you want to write a novel in November, I can’t say this strongly enough: do it with friends. I’m hosting a couple of write-ins in the Chicago suburbs on November 1st (and 22nd) and you’re thoroughly welcome to join us there.

What if you want to write a novel, but live in a galaxy far, far away from Chicago? I’d still love connecting with you via the National Novel Writing web site. My handle there is Cee-Bee.

You in? Please leave a comment below with any questions (or fast-novel-writing tips) you’d like to share.