I am very used to writing off the top of my head. It feels like I am giving impromptu speeches or stories. It also is exciting because I don't always know where I'm going to end up. It is as much an adventure for me to write the story as it is for others to read it.
Suffice it to say, I don't use many outlines. The next thing I write is going to be based on what I just finished writing. Sometimes, though, I have to write something that is very exact. I need to plan out every step of the process, so then the outline comes out.
I must say that using an outline is a totally different experience. It feels like cheating. It's like looking at a walkthrough to beat a video game. When I have an outline, I have the entire piece written in shorthand. All I need to do to "write it" is transcribe it into longhand.
But outlines aren't cheating guides; they're organizational tools. I am a huge proponent of using logic and planning in writing, and outlines are the perfect way to do that. Although I don't always use them, they are definitely a good idea.
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Strong vs. Weak Language
When it comes to language and word choice, the general advice is to be strong. When you use weak language like weasel words, you sound ignorant, scared, afraid to make a stand. When you are writing something, you don't need to say "I think. . ." because it is obvious that this is your opinion. If you are confident enough to make a suggestion, just make it and don't try to protect yourself from blame.
The irony, though, is that strong language can make you seem ignorant. If you remove all of the words that say that nothing is certain and there are always arguments that can be made to any point, then there is nothing showing the audience that you have considered those points. All the audience sees is you sticking with one point and bringing up all the reasons to support it.
I believe that strong language is better for discussion. If you make a point and somebody disagrees, you can go back and forth and reach a conclusion. But if you are writing a book or a journal article that is published and static, then such discussion cannot take place.
Ultimately, a writer needs to find the ratio of strong to weak language that they are comfortable with. I don't like to cut it all out because it feels stiff and forced. I obviously like to have some, though (as you may find in this entry itself), as it softens the edge, sounds more conversational, and shows that I do understand that there are always exceptions to everything.
The irony, though, is that strong language can make you seem ignorant. If you remove all of the words that say that nothing is certain and there are always arguments that can be made to any point, then there is nothing showing the audience that you have considered those points. All the audience sees is you sticking with one point and bringing up all the reasons to support it.
I believe that strong language is better for discussion. If you make a point and somebody disagrees, you can go back and forth and reach a conclusion. But if you are writing a book or a journal article that is published and static, then such discussion cannot take place.
Ultimately, a writer needs to find the ratio of strong to weak language that they are comfortable with. I don't like to cut it all out because it feels stiff and forced. I obviously like to have some, though (as you may find in this entry itself), as it softens the edge, sounds more conversational, and shows that I do understand that there are always exceptions to everything.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Consequences
One of my favorite sayings comes from Calvin & Hobbes: "Some people work best under pressure. I work only under pressure." I find it holds very true for myself and a number of my writing friends. The scary thing about writing is that, no matter how strong your burning desire to tell a story is, it is always easy to not write. We have random time sinks on the internet, TV, video games, talking with friends, eating food, and countless other distractions. We also have to deal with obligations like going to work and doing laundry. It is far easier to not write than it is to write.
As such, the writer's best friend is the deadline. When writing becomes a requirement and not simply a hobby or a way to kill time, writers will do what needs to be done. In fact, there are those who would say that the best thing about studying writing at college is having deadlines to meet all the time. Outside of school or work, though, deadlines seem meaningless. Nobody is forcing you to produce within a time frame. They are self-imposed, which means the only way to meet them is by having a lot of will power. But if you already had a lot of will power, you wouldn't need to give yourself deadlines in the first place.
Deadlines are simply dates. Dates by themselves are powerless. What makes deadlines significant are consequences. In school, if you don't meet deadlines, you fail. In work, if you don't meet deadlines, you get fired. Self-imposed deadlines have no consequences. Granted, you could give yourself a consequence of not meeting deadlines, but that would require a lot of will power, which would better be spent just writing instead of coming up with these contingency plans.
If you want consequences, that matter, you should turn to others. Ask a friend to help you out. Set it up where if you don't meet a deadline, your friend won't talk to you until you do what you needed to do for the deadline. Or do the opposite and have your friend harass you every day after the deadline until you meet it. Whichever one is more annoying, do that. You can make up any kind of consequence that could work for you.
What is most important is that you are in a situation where not writing has a very real and significant impact on you. Ideally, we wouldn't need such situations, but when our laziness or fear or anything else takes over our desire to create, we need a swift kick in the butt to get ourselves out of such a funk and having real consequences is much more eye-opening than simply feeling bad about yourself for not meeting a self-imposed deadline.
As such, the writer's best friend is the deadline. When writing becomes a requirement and not simply a hobby or a way to kill time, writers will do what needs to be done. In fact, there are those who would say that the best thing about studying writing at college is having deadlines to meet all the time. Outside of school or work, though, deadlines seem meaningless. Nobody is forcing you to produce within a time frame. They are self-imposed, which means the only way to meet them is by having a lot of will power. But if you already had a lot of will power, you wouldn't need to give yourself deadlines in the first place.
Deadlines are simply dates. Dates by themselves are powerless. What makes deadlines significant are consequences. In school, if you don't meet deadlines, you fail. In work, if you don't meet deadlines, you get fired. Self-imposed deadlines have no consequences. Granted, you could give yourself a consequence of not meeting deadlines, but that would require a lot of will power, which would better be spent just writing instead of coming up with these contingency plans.
If you want consequences, that matter, you should turn to others. Ask a friend to help you out. Set it up where if you don't meet a deadline, your friend won't talk to you until you do what you needed to do for the deadline. Or do the opposite and have your friend harass you every day after the deadline until you meet it. Whichever one is more annoying, do that. You can make up any kind of consequence that could work for you.
What is most important is that you are in a situation where not writing has a very real and significant impact on you. Ideally, we wouldn't need such situations, but when our laziness or fear or anything else takes over our desire to create, we need a swift kick in the butt to get ourselves out of such a funk and having real consequences is much more eye-opening than simply feeling bad about yourself for not meeting a self-imposed deadline.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
The Power of First Impressions
Some people will talk about their favorite book and how they've read it dozens of times. They say that every time they read it, they find something they never noticed before. That's all well and good for those readers, but what about all the other people? What about the people who only read something once?
Those one-time readers are important to consider. They are the majority of total readers and are not afraid to talk about something, even if they've only read it once. Writing things that are layered, have multiple meanings, and require multiple readings are wonderful and should not be ignored, but if you want to take on such an endeavor, don't forget to make it appealing on its first impression.
As much as I want to make people think with my writing, it needs to entertain first. And since you only make one first impression, you should strive to make it the best you can. This raises the question of how you test first impressions.
You can't do it yourself. You're too close to your own work to know what it is like to see it for the first time. So go to somebody else. Give it to a fresh pair of eyes. See if they react the way you want them to. If they do, then stay the course. If not, then figure out what you need to change.
Remember, though, that working with an editor has the same problem that you yourself will have: your editor will become familiar with the piece. Don't let that deter you, though. A good editor will strengthen your writing despite being familiar with it. And when you and your editor have done all you can with your piece, go and find another new set of eyes to read it. Hopefully you won't need to repeat the whole process again, but if need be, then go for it.
It is definitely useful to have a reserve of eyes to read your work. Like I said, you only make one first impression. If you run out of people to get first impressions from, you'll just have to wing it and hope for the best.
Those one-time readers are important to consider. They are the majority of total readers and are not afraid to talk about something, even if they've only read it once. Writing things that are layered, have multiple meanings, and require multiple readings are wonderful and should not be ignored, but if you want to take on such an endeavor, don't forget to make it appealing on its first impression.
As much as I want to make people think with my writing, it needs to entertain first. And since you only make one first impression, you should strive to make it the best you can. This raises the question of how you test first impressions.
You can't do it yourself. You're too close to your own work to know what it is like to see it for the first time. So go to somebody else. Give it to a fresh pair of eyes. See if they react the way you want them to. If they do, then stay the course. If not, then figure out what you need to change.
Remember, though, that working with an editor has the same problem that you yourself will have: your editor will become familiar with the piece. Don't let that deter you, though. A good editor will strengthen your writing despite being familiar with it. And when you and your editor have done all you can with your piece, go and find another new set of eyes to read it. Hopefully you won't need to repeat the whole process again, but if need be, then go for it.
It is definitely useful to have a reserve of eyes to read your work. Like I said, you only make one first impression. If you run out of people to get first impressions from, you'll just have to wing it and hope for the best.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Look It Up
If I had to choose the best thing about the internet, I would say it is the sheer access to information. And I don't mean news stories or anything in that ilk. I mean things like trivia. Who was that guy in Planet of the Apes? What exactly does 'troglodyte' mean? How long is a furlong? There is no fact you can't find with in three mouse clicks.
With this instant access to information, it makes me wonder how that affects writing. I remember being told that we should always assume our reader knows nothing about the subject. It is a good teaching device to get students to write thoroughly, and it should be taught for that, if nothing else, but should we keep it for all of our writing?
In digital writing, the answer seems to be no. If you are responding to another article or referring to a picture or a song, all you need to do is link to it. For people who don't know, they can delve deeper into a subject to understand it more thoroughly, and for people who are already familiar with the subject matter, they get straight to the point of the new content without worrying about the background.
But what about non-digital writing? To what degree should we be thorough when you can't just click on a link to learn more about something? On this matter, I strattle the fence; I can take either side of the argument.
On one hand, I believe that a piece of writing should be able to stand on its own, so thoroughness is good. On the other hand, I believe that writing should be efficient, so there's no need covering ground that somebody could easily research on any of the countless devices that can access the internet.
Ultimately, it is a personal decision to figure out how much you choose to explain. Both sides are perfectly valid. If you are torn between the two, then I recommend going for sound. Which version is more pleasant to the eyes and the ears? All other things being equal, pick the one that is the most pleasant to experience.
With this instant access to information, it makes me wonder how that affects writing. I remember being told that we should always assume our reader knows nothing about the subject. It is a good teaching device to get students to write thoroughly, and it should be taught for that, if nothing else, but should we keep it for all of our writing?
In digital writing, the answer seems to be no. If you are responding to another article or referring to a picture or a song, all you need to do is link to it. For people who don't know, they can delve deeper into a subject to understand it more thoroughly, and for people who are already familiar with the subject matter, they get straight to the point of the new content without worrying about the background.
But what about non-digital writing? To what degree should we be thorough when you can't just click on a link to learn more about something? On this matter, I strattle the fence; I can take either side of the argument.
On one hand, I believe that a piece of writing should be able to stand on its own, so thoroughness is good. On the other hand, I believe that writing should be efficient, so there's no need covering ground that somebody could easily research on any of the countless devices that can access the internet.
Ultimately, it is a personal decision to figure out how much you choose to explain. Both sides are perfectly valid. If you are torn between the two, then I recommend going for sound. Which version is more pleasant to the eyes and the ears? All other things being equal, pick the one that is the most pleasant to experience.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Define Your Terms
English can be a very tricky language because any word can have any number of meanings. For example, when I said that English is a tricky language, I did not mean that it likes to play jokes; I mean that it can be complicated and difficult to handle. Of course, the context of the first sentence is enough to understand what I meant. But the principle of it still holds.
Words have different definitions (denotations). Although context usually helps us understand which definition we mean, it is not always guaranteed to work. As an extreme example, there are 38 definitions of the word 'sharp'. Without enough context, it can be very easy to misunderstand what a person is trying to say if they describe something or someone as sharp.
And as if having multiple definitions for each word wasn't enough, we also have to deal with the fact that different people understand a word in different ways (connotations). For example, if somebody starts talking about love, there is a great deal of ambiguity there. There are countless different ideas that people all call love. There is a saying that if you ask one hundred people for their definition of love, you will get one hundred different replies.
When you think about these things, it seems a wonder that we can communicate anything at all to others. And yet, we do. We are far more likely to understand what we are told than not in daily communication. Part of it is because we are using common terms in common contexts most of the time. But the other part is that we define ambiguous terms that we use.
If you are ever writing specifically about a subject, the first thing you should do is introduce your subject and your argument. The second thing you should do is define your terms. That way, everybody will know exactly what you mean right from the start and you will avoid potential arguments that might come from people who assumed you were using other denotations or connotations.
Words have different definitions (denotations). Although context usually helps us understand which definition we mean, it is not always guaranteed to work. As an extreme example, there are 38 definitions of the word 'sharp'. Without enough context, it can be very easy to misunderstand what a person is trying to say if they describe something or someone as sharp.
And as if having multiple definitions for each word wasn't enough, we also have to deal with the fact that different people understand a word in different ways (connotations). For example, if somebody starts talking about love, there is a great deal of ambiguity there. There are countless different ideas that people all call love. There is a saying that if you ask one hundred people for their definition of love, you will get one hundred different replies.
When you think about these things, it seems a wonder that we can communicate anything at all to others. And yet, we do. We are far more likely to understand what we are told than not in daily communication. Part of it is because we are using common terms in common contexts most of the time. But the other part is that we define ambiguous terms that we use.
If you are ever writing specifically about a subject, the first thing you should do is introduce your subject and your argument. The second thing you should do is define your terms. That way, everybody will know exactly what you mean right from the start and you will avoid potential arguments that might come from people who assumed you were using other denotations or connotations.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Milestones
I always think that milestones are interesting to consider. Whatever a person does, there are milestones for it. But for every activity, they are a little different. Most milestones have to deal with either time spent doing something or the number of things created. Writing uses both of these milestones.
Once you decide to be a writer or when you get your first paid gig, that is your beginning as a writer. The clock then continues uninterrupted until you either die or officially quit. But we also have milestones for how many things we create. These seem to matter more when writing short but frequent things. Blogs and webcomics, for example, definitely care about the number of entries.
What strikes me as weird, though, is how arbitrary the units of benchmarks are. In terms of time, each new unit is a milestone. Your first day, first week, first month, first year are all significant milestones. After a year, it becomes more arbitrary. The second year is significant because it is double 1. Then year 5. After year 5, every multiple of 5 is significant. 10 is very special because it is double 5, a multiple of 5, a multiple of 10 (all multiples of 10 are twice as special as multiples of five), and the first double digit.
When you look at the number of updates you've had, some of the rules still stand, but they are a little different. Humans only live so many years, so every 5 is significant. But we can create thousands of updates in our lives, tens of thousands, even. Significant milestones seem to be 1, 2, 5, 10, 20, 25, 50, 100. After that, all multiples of 100 until 1000. After that, only multiples of 1000 matter. And that is what is very scary to me. When you first start writing, you are achieving things in extremely short amounts of time. If you updated every day, you would reach the first ten milestones in your first year. But in your second year, you would only reach three milestones. Every year after that, it keeps getting smaller.
Milestones are points of accomplishment. It says that you have come a long way since the last one. Arbitrary though they may be, they still make you feel very good about yourself when you reach one. If you are coming close to a milestone, let that be an inspiration to keep going. But if there is no milestone in sight, don't let it get you down. Writing is nont about the glory of reaching milestones; it is about the things you write. The pride of creating a lot is great, but it is gravy compared to the pride you should feel for each thing that you create.
Once you decide to be a writer or when you get your first paid gig, that is your beginning as a writer. The clock then continues uninterrupted until you either die or officially quit. But we also have milestones for how many things we create. These seem to matter more when writing short but frequent things. Blogs and webcomics, for example, definitely care about the number of entries.
What strikes me as weird, though, is how arbitrary the units of benchmarks are. In terms of time, each new unit is a milestone. Your first day, first week, first month, first year are all significant milestones. After a year, it becomes more arbitrary. The second year is significant because it is double 1. Then year 5. After year 5, every multiple of 5 is significant. 10 is very special because it is double 5, a multiple of 5, a multiple of 10 (all multiples of 10 are twice as special as multiples of five), and the first double digit.
When you look at the number of updates you've had, some of the rules still stand, but they are a little different. Humans only live so many years, so every 5 is significant. But we can create thousands of updates in our lives, tens of thousands, even. Significant milestones seem to be 1, 2, 5, 10, 20, 25, 50, 100. After that, all multiples of 100 until 1000. After that, only multiples of 1000 matter. And that is what is very scary to me. When you first start writing, you are achieving things in extremely short amounts of time. If you updated every day, you would reach the first ten milestones in your first year. But in your second year, you would only reach three milestones. Every year after that, it keeps getting smaller.
Milestones are points of accomplishment. It says that you have come a long way since the last one. Arbitrary though they may be, they still make you feel very good about yourself when you reach one. If you are coming close to a milestone, let that be an inspiration to keep going. But if there is no milestone in sight, don't let it get you down. Writing is nont about the glory of reaching milestones; it is about the things you write. The pride of creating a lot is great, but it is gravy compared to the pride you should feel for each thing that you create.
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