Somerset Maugham said, “There are three rules of writing. Unfortunately, nobody knows what they are.”

I’ve used this quote in some of my workshops before, but I was reminded of it last weekend at the St. Lawrence Writers Festival in Brockville, Ontario.*

As I often find during discussion on writing, something clicked: You can’t use science to create art. It seems obvious, right? Art is art; science is science.

There is some crossover. Pottery glazes involve chemical reactions. Similarly, paints need to be mixed in certain ways with certain ingredients. I’m typing this on a laptop that is 99% thanks to science.

But art – art is magic. At the very, very least, metaphorically. I talked to a reader at the festival who was amazed at the writing process. He said that it seems to him to be a “mystical” pursuit – and I told him most writers feel that way, too. The question, “Where do your ideas come from?” is raised all the time to writers. Some make up stories after years of trying to tell the truth. “I don’t know,” is the most true answer, but it never satisfies.

My theory is that new writers want to learn the “magic formula” to writing. But right there is the problem. “Magic” is art. “Formula” is science. There isn’t any magic formula because the two words are diametrically opposed.

Even the writing process, which in theory could be quantified (e.g., “I write for three hours a day”, “I get up at 6am every morning before other people are up”, “I write in the bathtub with my cat”) and therefore edges on the scientific, is different for every single writer. There are clear paths for engineers to build a bridge, for surgeons to remove a tumour. There are right ways and wrong ways.

That’s not as true for writing.

In fact, I would argue that arbitrary, formula-based constraints are counter-productive, such as forcing yourself to write three hours when the last two and a half are pure torture causing you to produce mostly drivel. Trying to science-fy writing drains the magic like a spike in your transmission pan.

Instead, we need to pull ourselves away from the scientific world. Let’s explore those nooks and crannies where faeries live and leprechauns hide gold and the mind can wander where it wants without a care about time or space or what is empirically “right”.

Letting go and just writing – that’s the magic. But there isn’t a formula.

To contradict myself (because Art does that, too…), here’s a formula I wrote about several years ago** to help you find your own magical faerie writing place, which I call a “writing thin place”:

These are more like signposts than guided steps to help you find your own way, not a map to a single, common path. Plus, it includes a neat little analogy I forgot about!

If you do find your way to your writing thin place, let us know in the comments below. I don’t need to know the way – we all have our own magic trails to follow – but I am interested in hearing how you found yours, and what saw when you got there!

Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

*(Great festival, btw! I hear next year’s is already in the works… I highly recommend it for the sheer socialization aspect of meeting other writers alone!)

**So long ago, in fact, that I have since read “Bird by Bird” twice.

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It’s true – I’m going paid.

This has been part of the plan all along, as I get into below. Still, it wasn’t an easy choice to pull the trigger now. Susan Cain, the author of Quiet, pushed me over the edge with her own experience.

In recent live stream, Cain said:

The exact reason why writers are terrible at self-marketing is a huge topic in itself that I should probably examine one day. But I can tell you that:

• On one hand, like Susan, I feel icky about putting a payment button on this Substack

• On the other, like Susan – I feel like there’s nothing inherently wrong about getting paid for my writing

Best of all, I think I found a loophole in this seeming paradox…

Upgrade to Paid! Hit the Subscribe Button (even if you’re already a free subscriber).

When Should a Substack Writer Go Paid?

I am coming up on five years of this Substack – this November, to be precise. I came into this with a solid vision and a loose plan:

1. Write quality posts on a consistent basis (check)

2. Don’t worry about marketing too much – let it spread word of mouth (check – though not as successful as I would have hoped)

3. Hit a tipping point of subscribers, and then go paid in some fashion (erm…)

I’m very happy with Point #1 of the plan. I’ve been (mostly) consistent, and the feedback on my posts has been encouraging!

Point #2 though, somewhat predictably, did not go to plan. There are two ways to be heard without marketing: have a platform already (George Saunders, the Kardashians, Taylor Swift) or go viral. Bee tee dubs, viral is a lottery I lost.

Point #3 – I didn’t hit that tipping point. The failings of Point #2 are part of it, but I also think Substack’s platform changes and policies over the years contributed.

For one, Substack allowed readers to Follow instead of Subscribe. That splits the audience, forcing writers to connect with some (or maybe most…) of their audience through the Substack Notes social media feed. Great for Substack; not ideal for writers who don’t really get into the whole social media facet of Substack.

However, I’m close to that magic tipping point number I had in my head when you combine Subscribers and Followers. So maybe that’s a sign to go for it?

Also, I’m hoping that going paid will increase my reach. I suspect Substack favours writers in its algorithms who charge subscriptions. I mean, it would make good business sense. If you owned a business and you received 10% of $5 from X and 10% of $0 from Y, you’d probably push X more, right? I don’t think it was always this way. I think in the growing stages, Substack tried to promote everyone, but their business model shifted. Again, I have no proof. Just a marketer’s nose…

Regardless, one thing was clear: it is time to change my plan.

Subscribe or Go Paid

What This Means for You

So where’s the common ground in this paradox? Initially, the “Go Paid” button will be like a voluntary support jar. Everyone will get the same free posts with the option to buy a paid subscription if you like. My hope is that:

• I’ll be able to generate another revenue stream

• I’ll get on Substack’s alogorithm’s good side and start getting more Subscribers

• It will be business as usual, otherwise

In other words, nothing will change for you except:

• You have the option to go paid if you see value in this newsletter and would like to support it

• Substack may try to push people to purchase a paid subscription, now that I’ve enabled it. I’m hoping not, and I’ll do everything I can to avoid that, but I don’t have full control over it…! (Please let me know if and where you get unsolicited solicitations aside from buttons in posts, and I’ll look into fixing it.)

I’m starting off at what I believe is a reasonable $5 CDN per month, or $50 CDN per year.* If you live in a different country like the US, the UK, Australia, or any of the other countries where readers of this newsletter live, it should change the price for you into another (major) currency. Rough math equates to USD$3/£2.50/€3/AUD$5

In the future, I may start doing paid exclusive posts as a special thank you. But that’s a ways down the road.

I’m hoping some of you will hit that “Go Paid” button, but no worries if that’s not you. I’m so appreciative to all those who visit this space every week. I am still so glad to have you aboard!

Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

PS - if you happen to be at the St. Lawrence Writers Festival in Brockville, Ont. this weekend, I’ll see you there! (I believe tickets are still available.)

*Please note: prices may appear higher in the app because of Apple and/or other extra fees. Best bet: subscribe outside of the app, i.e. inside your browser! Thanks!

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I’ve talked about Rick Rubin before.

He and I seem to think in the same way. Not that I’m trying to compare myself to him. Just… an observation. In fact, this post is in part about that fact that we can’t and shouldn’t compare ourselves to anyone else.

In the video below, Rubin says (I’m paraphrasing): Creativity is not some magical or divine gift bestowed from on high. It’s a flash within us – if we can just get out of our own damn way.

He said:

He goes on to say that Bob Dylan can’t be a better Ramones than the Ramones, just like the Ramones can’t be a better Bob Dylan than Bob Dylan. The implication, of course, is that there’s room on the bench for all of us. But, it doesn’t just happen; we have to do the work.

This is all stuff I’ve said before. But they are still issues I see writers struggling with every day. I wish there were some sort of silver bullet to get rid of our Mr. Hydes, who are out to stymie our every writing attempt. If permission, comparisons, and/or getting in your own way are things you feel you struggle with, I truly hope that the video below will help you take a major leap in a positive direction! It’s a timely reminder that I needed right now.

I’m going to leave you with one last thought before you scroll down to the video below:

The next time you sit down to write – or do anything creative – why not try to be the best “you” you can be? I can tell you for a fact that nobody does it better.

Until next time*, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

*PS – big announcement coming next week. If I were a YouTuber, I’d say something like, “This Changes EVERYTHING!!!”

But I’m not. So I’ll simply say, I’m taking a big, important step with my Substack newsletter that maybe I should have done a long time ago… I’m excited to share it with you next week!

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This post is Part 3 of 3 about the pitfalls I’ve seen writers fall into during my times as a fiction judge. You can read this even if you haven’t read the others, but you may find it easier to start with Parts 1 & 2!

https://www.towritewithwildabandon.com/p/common-fiction-writing-pitfalls-part-1-of-3

https://www.towritewithwildabandon.com/p/common-fiction-writing-pitfalls-part-2-of-3

This week, we’ll cover pitfalls that fall under the banner of “Major Issues” and some tips for avoiding those, too.

Major Issues

• Characters are too forthcoming and agreeable with each other. Humans tend to hide things, even when they’re being honest. Or, they’re trying to get their own way, often disagreeing with other people around them. But in bad short stories, a character asks a question, another character gives an answer like they’re batting the ball back and forth in a tennis game warm-up. No conflict. No plot. No fun for the reader. I talked about this very issue in a recent post, A Trick for Adding Conflict to Your Story.
  
  Here’s another viewpoint from Laura Spence-Ash that specifically relates to adding conflict to your dialogue. https://www.craftliterary.com/2017/09/15/conflict-in-dialogue/

• Lack of voice. A strong voice sells the story better than anything. However, voice tends to be one of those things that develops for writers over time. The best solution I know is to keep writing.

• Telling, not showing. Another whole topic on its own. Suffice to say, this happens a lot in stories that don’t make the cut. If you’re telling us too much about what happened yesterday and today and tomorrow rather than letting the story unfold on its own, that’s a good sign you need to show more.

• Stories click along tickety-boo. This is similar to the forthcoming characters, above. Very often, there is an extreme lack of interesting conflict. “Let’s go for a picnic!” “Yes, let’s!” Sounds like a great day with a friend, but it makes for a terrible story. When there is conflict, it tends to get tied up in a bow too easily, too quickly, too cleanly. We need messy, ragged scars that have serious and lasting consequences.

• No connection between the actions in the story and the feelings in the characters. Especially, no burning desire. Characters, especially main characters, need to want something in a story, and need to suffer to get it (or get something different…) in the end. If something happens to the character, we need to understand what specific impact that has on the character – and empathize with them. Show us why it matters!

Final Tip

• Sell No Wine Before Its Time. If you’re of a certain age, you may recognize this tagline for Paul Masson wine delivered by none other than Orson Welles. It’s a good rule for writers as well as winemakers. Many of these mistakes outlined above happen because the writer ran out of time. Don’t submit your story until it’s ready just because you’ve “committed” to entering a contest or making a certain deadline. I can’t stress this enough.
  
  I know. I usually “suggest” or “recommend” or “provide alternatives” rather than dictate didactically. But this is more about business of writing rather than the creative side, where things are more black and white. Submitting a half-baked, half-assed story is amateurish and wastes everybody’s time. (I’ve done this before and regretted it, so I’m speaking from experience here… I know the lure of the red dragon that makes you leap before you’re ready!) Save it for the next deadline, and polish it up in the meantime.

Over to You

Anything I’ve missed in these three posts? I would also be curious to know if these ideas helped you at all with your own writing. Let us know in the comments below or email me directly!

Next week, we’ll conclude with Major Issues.

Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

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In last week’s post, I talked about basic pitfalls some writers fall into that I’ve seen over the years as a judge for fiction writing contests. I also give some tips on how to avoid them. Although you can read this post as a standalone, it may give you more context to start there!

https://www.towritewithwildabandon.com/p/common-fiction-writing-pitfalls-part-1-of-3

This week, we’ll take a closer look at some of the more advanced pitfalls and how you can avoid them in your fiction writing.

Mistakes that Take a Bit More Work

Undefined characters. A surgeon working the night shift in one story could just as well have been the sniper sitting in a tree night after night in another story. Nothing makes who or what they are unique. They are simply cardboard cut-outs standing in each other’s place. In extreme cases in some short stories, I couldn’t even tell gender*, age, or the barest outline of what physical attributes make this human different from every other one in the world. Make the reader believe this is a surgeon. Believe this is a sniper. Believe he or she or they is rich or poor or educated or uneducated or whatever it is they’re supposed to be. It’s in the details.

Here’s a video from Abbie Emmons that gives a good framework for developing characters including a downloadable character profile template ($5 USD):

*I understand and fully support that gender is on a spectrum rather than an either/or, binary concept. We still need details to give us a clearer picture of who that person is. And if someone identifies within the binary confines of the spectrum, I feel it’s okay to show that.

Painted backdrops. It’s hard to inhabit a flat painting. Instead, the best writers give us a world to step into. One way to do this is ensure your characters are interacting with their environments in ways that are particular to that location. If your story could happen anywhere from a cliffside ledge to a little motel room in the desert, think of things that could only happen on a cliff, like a rock coming loose and falling, and only happen in a desert motel room, like the AC flickering in the baking heat, a lizard crawling out from under the bathroom door, or that faint smell of… what?

has some more advanced ideas for making your backdrops come alive, which I think are really good. (I particularly like The Trysting Place idea…)

The Marvellous Mechanical Writing Machine

On writing place in short stories

When I wrote Unusual Places, I started each story with a place, and that isn’t a rule that I always follow, but I do think that a place is like an explosion of different stories, stories about the multitude of people who have passed through this place, or stories about events, things and people that have a deeper connection to it. Going to a place allow…

Read more

5 months ago · 29 likes · 4 comments · Louise Tondeur

Author clearly doesn’t know what the story is, then tries to mask that ignorance as “mystery”. Not everything makes it into your story, but the author still needs to know it. Confusion and fog don’t come off as mystery as you hoped; they come off as… confusion and fog. Know your story inside and out – including the stuff that doesn’t make the page. Realize that plot holes are just that: holes to fix, not something to sell as an intriguing puzzle.

Nathan Bransford actually talks about building a mystery here, but the same concepts apply.

Over to You

Have you noticed any similar pitfalls that writers fall into? Let us know in the comments below or email me directly.

Next week, we’ll conclude with Major Issues.

Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

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When I finished writing my first novel, I was excited to put it into the hands of beta readers.

It was an eye-opening experience. Not just because of what they said, but because of what they didn’t say…

I get it. It’s hard criticizing someone else’s work. Giving helpful criticism – and receiving it, for that matter – is not something that’s baked into our DNA. Quite the opposite, actually. But it’s a useful exercise worth doing.

Plus, I’ve found a loophole...

Over the years, I’ve been on judging panels for short stories and other writing. This exercise was almost as useful as feedback from my own beta readers! I saw writers fall into similar pitfalls again and again – things that they may not have even been aware of. Of course, it made me wonder, Am I unknowingly wallowing in those same pitfalls?

My next thought was, well, why don’t I help everyone know and avoid them?

Common Fiction Writing Pitfalls and How to Leap Over Them

I’m not here to tell you how to write. But I can share with you some common pitfalls I’ve seen that made me deduct points as a contest judge. So, I present the following to you as a rubric of sorts to judge your fiction by. I’ve divided these into Easy Fixes, Extra Work, and Major Issues, along with suggestions on how you might fix them.

Judging is subjective, so these are merely my opinions. Following these suggestions will not guarantee your story will get published or win a contest, of course. However, avoiding these pitfalls will likely help you improve your chances – and your writing.

This post runs extremely long, so I’ve decided to split it into three. We start with…

Easy Fixes

Spelling and grammar. It’s true, as editors have said before me, that if a badly spelled “The Secret Life of Walter Mitty” landed on some editor’s desk, it would still likely be published. But glaring spelling errors do tend to pull down the perceived quality of the story. It’s a little bit like the broken windows theory – too many mistakes, and you stop trusting the writer. Besides, in the game of “don’t give them a reason to say ‘no’”, this is a relatively easy one to fix.

High-fallutin’ language and/or too much thesaurusing. This screams, “I’m writing capital-L Literature!” Unfortunately, it often comes off as unnatural at best. The key is to find the right word, not the most expensive one. Generally, the cheap ones offer the most value. Try writing like you would talk, and see how that impacts your writing.

Saying too much. Train schedules of days and times. Character descriptions that sound like a mugshot. Overdescription of place. (“Sunsetting” is something I’ve been guilty of in my own writing!) I’ll semi-contradict myself by saying that these things are actually okay to write down – in the first draft. Whatever gets you from start to finish, and gives you a fuller picture of your story! But much of this can be cut out in the editing phases. I go into this in more detail in Anchors Away! and No Words are Wasted.

Using words other than “said” or “asked”. Don’t do it, except in the rarest of circumstances. (See, “too much thesaurusing”, above.)

Over to You

Have you noticed any common pitfalls that writers fall into? Let us know any basic things you’ve seen in the comments below! Feel free to let us know about more complex issues as well or email me directly.

Next week, we’ll cover the medium-sized Extra Work items before going to Major Issues the week after.

Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

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Graham Norton gets away with more shit on TV than he ever would on the ultra-repressed airways of North America.

Okay, the rumours are true. American 70’s game shows like Match Game and The Gong Show were literally lined with booze and coke. And, all the celebrities had their own ashtrays. But except for the smoking, the extracurricular activities were kept backstage. Which is why you were much more likely to hear bleeps on the Friday shows than on Monday ones…

Graham Norton doesn’t do coke (AFAIK) and smoking of course is banned in most places in the Free World, but on The Graham Norton Show, the booze runs freely and sits right there on a suspiciously 70s-era-looking coffee table.

But what surprises many North Americans on the show for the first time is that there isn’t any bleeping, either. You get the feeling that you’re sitting in the Green Room during a Rat Pack gig, and the boys are in the thick of being boys.

Matt Damon, on the show screenshotted in the banner up top, said during that episode that it’s the most fun he’s ever had on a talk show. And that’s exactly the point. Everyone loosens up after a drink or two. Everyone is up for a bit of fun.

However, that’s not exactly the point of this post. Instead, I wanted to introduce you to Graham Norton and his talk show – if you haven’t seen it, there are clips on YouTube. He’s not a household name in North America, but in the UK he’s as legendary as Johnny Carson.

And that’s getting closer to my point: he’s successful by any public-facing measure.

But what does success mean to Norton on a personal level?

Success is What You Make It

On the Between Two Beers podcast (linked below), the hosts asked Norton what his definition of success was. Easy, right? Not so much. He opened with a story of him and his mates in theatre school 30 years ago. Norton said if you asked each one of them what success was, they’d say being in a movie or West End theatre or on TV.

That group of drama kids recently had a reunion, and very few of them were still in the business. Not only that, their definitions of “success” had changed. One, who had been battling MS all that time, said that making the reunion itself was a success.

This story took at least a couple of minutes to tell. Then, Norton summed it up with this:

Now, you may comment – and maybe rightly so – that it’s easy to be Johnny Carson and espouse that success is what you make it. But Norton is very sincere. It’s a well thought out answer that speaks to a deeper truth. You get the sense that if he had been one of those people at the reunion that had become middle management at some paper supply company in Slough, he probably would have been happy. I mean, I’m sure he’s enjoying all the things that money can bring. But I’m not sure he would have missed them if his life had taken a different turn.

Of course, like I usually do, I processed this answer through my writer brain and saw immediate similarities. I think writers – myself included – get discouraged when a short story isn’t accepted or a novel is rejected or they don’t become Poet Laureate. That’s the measure for success. Never mind all the hard work and creativity and energy and time that went into the piece.

If it were another writer, we’d try to convince them that’s a success in itself. But for us, it’s different. It’s failure. It’s a ditch that we, to borrow Norton’s phrase, “stumbled into” instead of the hill that we climbed.

In my last post, I talked about the sacrifices you make for art. But I didn’t directly ask if it was worth it. That depends in part, I think, to how you define success.

And here’s the really interesting thing: if you celebrate those successes, you are less likely to be discouraged. Which means you are more likely to keep writing. Which means you’re more likely to get published or win a contest or accomplish all those other “successes” you dream about.

Writing is the prize. Getting published only puts a ribbon on your success.

Over to You

Has your idea of "writing success” changed over the years? Do you find yourself getting discouraged at perceived failures? What do you get from writing that you wouldn’t call “success” exactly, but maybe “benefit” or something similar? Enjoyment? Creative outlet? Let us know in the comments below!

Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

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I’ve mentioned in these pages, I’m sure, that I’ve been a writer since a very young age. Back then, I thought that meant books. As I got older, I realized that (a) there are other types of writing, and (b) writing books can make you rich, but more likely it will make you poor.

I’ve always been fascinated by the “poor” stories. My first novel was about that, in part. You hear about the Beatles and Taylor Swift and other rock stars who have a billion dollars or more. The only billionaire writer I know of is JK Rowling, though I suspect many like King and Baldacci and Atwood are doing very, very well. You read about the young mother in an Edinburgh café writing Harry Potter while rocking her infant in the pram turning into a literary sensation, and you think – that could be me!

What you don’t read about though are the thousands of other mothers, older now, still writing in that little corner table... (The pram, we can presume, is safely put away.)

This weekend, between cutting down trees and fixing lawn mowers, I watched a documentary about Carole Pope. If you’re a Canadian of a certain age, you’ll immediately recognize the name. She was the outspoken lead singer of Rough Trade – not the most popular band in Canada, but definitely one you heard of if you were listening to Canadian rock in the late 70s and early 80s.

Carole Pope was Madonna before Madonna was Madonna – but, if you can imagine, raunchier. Hold on – I’ll prove it to you. She was also openly gay during a time when it wasn’t common or even safe, giving her lyrics an extra edge for the time. Here are some from “High School Confidential”:

This last line was accompanied by a two-handed crotch pull in the (ironically, hetero-normative) video and in live performances – including on live Canadian TV. Somehow, Rough Trade hit the airwaves uncensored – I suspect mostly because CRTC execs and radio programmers on both sides of the border didn’t really know what the hell she was on about.

According to the documentary though, women struggling with their own sexuality all over Canada and the US knew exactly what she was saying. And they loved it.

I always thought “High School Confidential” was Rough Trade’s most popular song, but apparently it was “All Touch”. Here’s the video to that one – a nice metaphor for this post as well, methinks.

All Touch and No Contact

Throughout the documentary, Pope says it was “always about the art”. That’s a common, almost cliché refrain, isn’t it? But her lived experience proves it. The documentary opens in her extremely modest LA apartment. We find out later she moved to LA because it was cheaper than New York and easier to get gigs than Toronto. The fact that she still relies upon gigs to survive is telling in itself.

One line in particular caught me. Pope said:

However, she wonders out loud how much that commitment to her art has cost her financially. Pope had all touch with her work, but no contact with listeners because she wouldn’t play along with the music industry.

There’s regret in her voice at points in the documentary. Not as in, oh, she would do things differently now if she could. More along the lines of, record companies didn’t get her, even if audiences would have, and that was a shame for so many reasons. Including her own financial stability.

I can relate to that regret. Not in an apples-to-apples way of course. But there has to be regret when you let yourself be vulnerable, put your heart and soul into your art at the risk of economic security, and feel all three get stomped with stilettos. It’s not regret over the art. It’s regret of the art not reaching as many people as you would have hoped.

I wonder what I might have done if I took my chance at novel writing instead of marketing writing. Could I have made it? There is so much luck involved. And, as I’ve mentioned before, I wasn’t ready to write a novel or anything creatively serious until later in life, anyway.

Pope keeps her platinum and gold records in a storage locker somewhere in Manhattan in the type of crate usually reserved for transporting fine art. Although she didn’t make it as far as she could or even should have, she’s got to be proud of her accomplishments.

I know I’m proud of mine. I’ve been able to support a family on my writing, and I always call that a win. I’ve hacked and cut my own path through the jungle, made my own rules for the road, pressed my own platinum records. Maybe I could have supported the family even better as a lawyer or through some other career path. But, although I haven’t said it this way before, I was never willing to compromise on being able to write my way, either. Sure, it’s not my art, but it’s work my way. No regerts!

Most of us pay a price for our art. Time and energy – those are obvious. The lucky ones are true to their art AND get paid. The rest of us balance our ledgers with our souls on one side and our business success on the other.

Have you ever thought about the price you’ve paid? That you’re willing to pay?

* * *

Here’s the documentary, if you’re interested. Fair warning: I’m not sure it will play outside of Canada. But it’s worth searching out.

Also fair warning for sexual themes, language, smoking, drugs, punk rock, Toronto in the 70s, and all the other things your mother told you not to do. (And some she’d never heard of…)

Antidiva: The Carole Pope Confessions

Over to You

Any sacrifices you want to open up about?

Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

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Most writers are mild-mannered bookish types who squirrel away in hovels under the stairs and type in the darkness.

Okay. That’s hyperbole. But it’s not far from the truth – and in fact I know of at least one who does this! And, as bookish, squirrelly types, we tend not to like conflict. (Though, as Kenny Rogers taught us, sometimes you have to fight if you’re a man.)

Any-the-who, speaking of squirrel… I’m veering here.

Point is, many writers, and perhaps people in general, don’t like conflict in real life. The unfortunate part is, that spills into our writing world. Many failed stories have characters who ask cordial questions, give honest honey-dripped answers, and go along on their picnics. No deception or subterfuge – and no conflict. A story isn’t a story without conflict.

We’ve heard that before. I’m not giving you anything new here. Except, that sacred knowledge seems to get flushed down the toilet when we sit down to write a story. I’m certainly bad for it. I want only nice things for my characters!

It helps me though to remember that these characters aren’t real. Besides, I have the power to ensure they come out ahead in the end, no matter what I put them through now.

The people who do get hurt though if you have no conflict are your readers. Picnics are nice to experience. They’re boring as shit to read about.

“Nigel, pass the marmalade?”

“Certainly, my dear. And can you pass the butter?”

“Why yes! It would be my absolute pleasure!”

Can you pass me a sharpened spoon to gouge my eyes out? Yikes.

When the Characters Always Win, the Reader Always Loses.

When I say, “Readers get hurt…”, perhaps they don’t get physically injured. But imagine your disappointment if you read the above passage in a book you’ve been looking forward to reading. If it’s an author you admire, you might push through a few more pages. Eventually, they’ll give up and put your book down.

Nobody wins there.

We need to see those characters go through hell. It may sound like a sick human compulsion, watching someone twist in the wind. But it’s actually rooted more in compassion. If we like a character, we hate to see them encounter conflict of any kind. That’s as a reader and as a writer – which is why we write too many picnic scenes and not enough knife-point scenes. When we see a character we like struggling, we worry for the character, want desperately for the character to succeed, wish and pray the character will make it through. So, at the end of the book, when the main character overcomes all challenges, we feel happy and relieved and satisfied. The character was tested, and the character came out on top. Even in “sad” stories, the character should change in some positive way.

When your story gives you lemonade at a picnic, start serving your characters lemons! Here are three things that have help me when I find myself avoiding conflict for my characters:

1. I remember my characters aren’t real – they don’t actually feel the pain I’m putting them through!

2. I have the ultimate power to ensure everything works out for them in the end, if I want.

3. My readers do have feelings. I want to keep them happy, which means putting my unreal characters through hell so that my readers have something and someone to root for.

Over to You

Do you have trouble creating enough conflict for your characters? Any tricks you can share with us? Let us know in the comments below!

Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

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About six weeks ago, I posted Graham’s Second Law of Writing. You can read the whole post here, but I’ll refresh your memory:

Of course, some of you astutely noticed that this was Graham’s Second Law. Where is the first? Did we miss it?

No, you missed nothing! A peek behind the curtain will reveal that I came up with Graham’s Second Law of Writing on the fly. Except that, technically, it was the first law I wrote down. But I didn’t want it to be the First Law because I think there is a more important one than that.

As it turns out, I’m lucky I didn’t drop everything and write down the First Law first. While on my lawnmower two days ago (as of this writing), I heard the episode of Rick Rubin’s Tetragrammaton with Dave Eggers, and it solidified my perspective.

Among other things, Eggers is the founder of McSweeney’s, a special kind of magazine from San Francisco. Right at the end of the podcast, Rubin and Eggers have this exchange:

Rubin: Are there any popular rules or ideas about writing that you disagree with?

Eggers: All of them. When you say rules about writing, that’s a terrible phrase to utter. There can be no rules about writing.

You can hear the exchange for yourself, starting at about the 1:37:29 mark:

Yes, There are Rules. Or, At Least, Rule.

With all due respect to Dave Eggers, I don’t subscribe to this theory. I think there are rules. Or, at least, one important rule. If you prefer, let’s call the rest of them very helpful guidelines – especially for new writers starting out.

In fact, in a different episode, Rick Rubin also interviewed Anne Lamott and Neal Allen, who co-authored the writing craft book, Good Writing: 36 Ways to Improve Your Sentences. They talk about all 36 ways on the podcast, so it’s also worth checking out:

On the surface, these two episodes contradict each other. In fairness, Anne and Neal state explicitly that they don’t see these 36 ways as “rules” in the traditional sense. Use them, don’t use them, flagrantly break them – they aren’t holding anyone to account. Instead, they offer, these are 36 tips they’ve found useful in their own decades of writing.

Even writers raised by wolves understand the unstated here: ignore at your own peril!

So what’s the difference then between “rules” and “tips”/“guidelines”? In my mind, it comes down to this:

• Rules are something that if you break, you are in danger of harm. For example, run enough red lights and you’re bound to get into an accident.

• Tips and guidelines are ways to improve something. If you don’t follow them, you won’t get t-boned. But you might not get to your destination, either.

Once again, on the surface, it may sound like I’m contradicting myself now. Doesn’t this support Dave Eggers’ statement that there aren’t any rules in writing?

No. Because as I said, I believe there is at least one hard-and-fast rule. It’s at the heart of Graham’s First Law of Writing:

Of course, making sure the writing “works” is easier said than done. This is where shelving your writing for a while before reviewing comes, giving it to other trusted readers for feedback, and all the required polishing and honing and editing you need to do.

But for me, making sure it works is always my goal.

Over to You

Any writing rules you think are hard and fast? Any tips you’ve followed that might as well be rules in your mind? Am I completely off my rocker here? Let us know in the comments below!

Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

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I’ve mentioned Entershine Bookshop’s Curious, Whimsical, No Rules, Anything Goes Because We All Love Books Book Club before. We met two days ago (as of this post), and talked about Brother. Do. You. Love. Me. – a difficult book which most people found to be worth the read.

I’m not sure I’ve talked about what a profound effect the book club has had on me as a writer. First let me say, because it’s important to the story here, that it’s the first book club I’ve ever joined, simply because it was the first one I came across that is openly open to men. For the record, I have no problem with book clubs that double as women-only get-togethers. In fact, I would say that’s a great thing! I am fully supportive and have no wish to intrude on that sacred space.

However, my lack of direct experience with book clubs means that I don’t have anything really to compare the Entershine Book Club to. I’ve heard from many in the group though that this book club is different from others. Nobody is afraid to speak their opinion, even if it is different than every single other person in the room. In fact, it’s encouraged! There isn’t any pressure to even finish the book. It’s a great group of people and the conversations are always deep, meaningful, and funny.

Being in this book club has also taught me a lot about the writing process from the reader’s perspective. It’s interesting: the pure readers often have a different take than the handful of writers in the group. I get to hear what connects with readers and what doesn’t. There are many takeaways for me including the need to have a story that’s engaging and entertaining at every step. I mean, this is one of the things mentors tell you. But to see it in action is like watching the river turn the mill wheel rather than simply knowing the connection between mill and flour.

Perhaps the most important thing I’ve learned is this: you never know what readers are going to like. I know, because I’ve tried. I finish a book club book and I think, “This and this and this person will love it. This person will hate it. This person will be bored…” and so on.

Except that I’m usually not right. Not even guessing for myself. For example, there are some books that by all rights, I should like. But I don’t. My opinion of a book has usually shifted and sometimes outright changed, based on the discussions with that group.

So, if I can’t tell what people are going to like as a reader, then how can I do it as a writer? How can I predict – and craft – a story guaranteed to please every reader?

Trick Question: How Do You Predict What a Reader Will Like?

The answer is: I can’t. I wouldn’t be able to write a book to please everyone in the book club, never mind the world.

Another thought. I’m helping a friend, Sam Plavins, launch her first book later this week. We talked about who will like the book and who won’t. Once again, I used The Great Gatsby as the example. Some people think it’s the best book ever written. Others hate it. The same will happen to your book, so – for your own sanity, if nothing else – embrace the lovers and ignore the haters.

A good lesson on its own. But put these two thoughts together, and I think there’s an even more profound insight.

You can’t write for everyone – can’t even predict who might like it. And, there are going to be haters. So what do you do?

The answer is deliciously simple: write the book you want to read. Sure, you can aim vaguely at people who read romance or adventure or memoir or literary or sci-fi or whatever. In fact, it’s good to understand where your book fits in with others. But not all sci-fi readers will see your new worlds as far out; not all murder mystery lovers will love your whodunnit.

I suspect that seasoned writers like King and Atwood and Maas know what their readers want to a certain extent. But even within their readerships, their books will rank differently top to bottom with different readers.

The point is, they write for the reader, but they don’t try to predict who that reader will be so much. They write a book that is true to themselves, and trust that the right readers will connect with it.

That’s something we can all do – for our own sanity, if nothing else.

Over to You

Do you write for yourself? If not, who do you write for? Do you feel more pressure to “get it right” if you are writing for someone else! Let us know in the comments below, or drop me a line!

Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

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I learned firsthand that in Hungary, it’s rude to open a door for a woman.

Not for any gender equality reasons. Actually, it’s for the same chivalrous reasons that Western men do hold the door. In Hungary, it’s rude because the man should go into the room first to make sure there isn’t any danger on the other side.

This is a cultural thing, of course, based on dangers from a more ruthless era in human history. Both groups of people grew up with a set of unspoken rules for being ethical and moral. Each rule, even though they contradict each other, symbolizes the same thing: chivalry, consideration, and caring. Those who hold open the door – or don’t, depending on the culture – are fine, upstanding people. Those who do not (or do…) are rude, careless people who should be avoided.

Same symbol, opposite meaning. It’s easy to see how humans get their signals crossed!

So what the hell does this have to do with writing? I’ll tell you. I recently came across the term “personal symbology”. Essentially, it means symbols that have deep personal meaning, and by definition, don’t necessarily means anything to anyone else. The term immediately resonated with me because that was one of the pitfalls I kept falling into while writing my first novel.

“I didn’t get the references,” was a common refrain from my beta readers.

The symbols I used were so unique to me and maybe a small sub-section of people that it made reading the novel difficult. These included music references from 50+ years ago and oblique, obscure mentions from niche books. References that of course nobody else would get.

I was semi-conscious even then that not everyone would understand every cultural shout-out, so I invented what I thought was an ingenious solution. I encouraged readers to <Google> references using the same HTML code I use every day in my web design work </Google>, eventually shortening it to <g> as people used to it deeper into the novel </g>.

Only problem was, readers didn’t understand the HTML code references, either. I was purposefully being coy and oblique to tweak the mystery and intellectual excitement of the reader, opening the door for them to walk in blindly. Instead, I should have been more Hungarian, leading them through the door and helping them see what was on the other side…

How I Approach Symbolism Now

I’ve talked before about being inclusionary with your readers instead of exclusionary. Symbols can be either, depending on how you use them. The wrong way – like I did, way back when – is to assume the reader will have fun decoding your hidden messages. The right way is to make abundantly clear what the symbol is and what it might mean.

This doesn’t mean you need anything as prosaic as a Legend page at the front of your book.

• Sunflower = happy

• Bones = sad

• …and so on

Take, for example, one of the most famous symbols in literature: the green light at the end of Daisy’s dock from The Great Gatsby. It’s been a hundred years, and scholars and readers still struggle to put into words what the green light symbolizes. I haven’t been all that successful either. But I think that deep down, we all know what it means, if we trust our instincts. It’s an image that reacts at the reptilian level of our brain – which may explain why it’s so hard to describe in words. It’s universal, yet at the same time intensely personal.

This kind of symbolism is hard to pull off, which in part shows why F. Scott Fitzgerald was one of the best writers of all time.

However, it’s easy enough to make a symbol. Take this quote from the TV show, Community:

Jeff Winger: I can pick up this pencil, tell you its name is Steve and go like this... [breaks pencil. Abed’s face careens into shock and remorse] and part of you dies just a little bit on the inside. Because people can connect with anything. We can sympathize with a pencil…

Four words, “its name is Steve…”, and one gesture. Any future mention in your book of a pencil or a guy named Steve will bring us back to this moment. We all get the symbol. We all get the connection, now that it’s been shown to us.

It’s a fine line between the spell-it-out Legend and the leave-them-in-obscurity vague references. It can be challenging to open up your personal symbology so that the readers understand the meaning, too.

I’m not sure I’ve totally mastered it yet – my next novel will answer that question. But I do believe I’m slightly more Hungarian about it.

Over to You

How do you handle symbolism? Any tips you can pass along? Or maybe you’re not a fan of symbolism in the first place? Let us know in the comments below!

Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

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All together now like we’re on Family Feud: what’s my #1 Writing Rule? “Haaave Fuuuun!”

I recently started reading Story is a State of Mind by Sarah Selecky for our Writing Craft Book Club. In the introduction, she talks about a common issue I’ve seen in writers (including myself…) Soon after Sarah started to read as a child, she started to write for fun. She would write for an audience of one, never really sharing her stories.

At least, not until years later when Sarah decided to start submitting stories. In her mind, this changed the game. Sarah was going to get “serious” about writing. (Where have we heard that before?) The goal was no longer just to have fun. Or, as it turned out, to have fun at all. Sarah wanted to achieve something other than entertaining herself – and started keeping score.

Can you guess what happened? Not only did she start piling up rejections, Sarah stopped having fun while writing. In turn, she stopped writing all together.

To be clear, rejections are part of the writing life. Unless you’re very lucky, you’re going to get rejections. There isn’t a way around that.

But, there is a way to prevent yourself from losing interest – from losing your fire to write.

So how do you avoid turning writing into a chore? As Sarah recounts, she started writing for herself again rather than trying to cow-tow to what she perceived editors might want. I imagine this led to more authentic, more exciting writing. Whatever the truth, Sarah eventually became the successful writer she is today.

In other words, when Sarah stopped being “serious” and started having fun again, everything changed for her.

Graham’s Second Law of Writing

There is some discussion as to who first said the above quote. Some say Einstein, but I’m pretty convinced it wasn’t, based on this quote investigation. Regardless, the sentiment is accurate – I’ll gladly put my name to the quote if nobody else is willing!

If you broke this down into an Einsteinian equation, it might be:

W=AF²

…or Writing [including both writing quality & quantity] = (writing Ability)(Fun)²

You may say, “But wait, Graham – do you mean to say “fun” is more important than “writing ability”?

Yes, that’s exactly what I mean to say. Exponentially so.

It’s clear that Sarah is a highly intelligent woman and an excellent writer. However, by her own admission, when Sarah dropped “fun” from the equation, her writing suffered. I can tell you that I’ve experienced this myself. The more fun I have, the more likely I am to hit upon creative golden nuggets – or even huge stretches of Yellow Brick Road.

I’m going to call this, “Graham’s Second Law of Writing”. The working definition is:

I know – more math! (Who is this crazy writer who promised you no more equations?) I’ll add in one last thing though from Grade 3 multiplication. If “Fun” equals zero (F=0), it cancels the whole equation like this:

W=A x 0² or W=0

In other words (or, more accurately, in words instead of numbers…), your writing quality and output will tend to be zero if you’re not having fun. This is what happened to Sarah: she stopped writing altogether. W=0

Bee-tee-dubs, it’s no coincidence that kids learn by playing and having fun. When it stops being fun, they lose interest and move on to something else. It’s only us stupid adults who keep banging our heads.

Final Conclusion: In other, other words, increasing your writing ability is important, yes. But increasing your level of fun is even more so. If you want to improve the level of your writing quickly, concentrate of playing with words and having more fun. Your writing quality and quantity will increase exponentially in a shorter amount of time.

*The use of the word “indisputable” here may be disputed.

Over to You

Have you noticed a difference in the quality and/or quantity of your writing when you’re having fun? Any tips on how to keep it fun? Any questions about how to boost your own creative output? Let us know in the comments below!

Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

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Care to be my therapist for a moment?

I feel like I’m not connecting with people sometimes on these writing concepts I keep espousing. It’s frustrating – I feel like I have useful advice to solve some specific problems, but I don’t see writers following through on it necessarily. I simultaneously feel like I’m covering old ground AND not emphasizing these concepts enough.

To be clear, I’m blaming myself for this, not writers. It’s apparent that I’m not making a compelling enough case.

And also to be clear, I don’t pretend to have “the answer” or a silver bullet for all that ails you writing-wise. Likewise, I know that every idea won’t necessarily work for every writer. But if someone says to me, “I have trouble coming up with ideas,” or “I find it hard to sit down and start writing,” I’ll say – “Please, try Zero Draft Writing! Please, please, please, please, pleeeeeease!”

Okay. That’s hyperbole. But maybe the clue is in the hype – maybe I need to beg to get people to try it!

The reason I’m so in love with Zero Draft Writing is that it cures much that ails you:

• Blank page – start filling it with garbage poetry or a grocery list or a recap of the game last night, and see what direction it takes you.

• Fear – if you’re focused on throwing down words, there isn’t any time for fear.

• Idea generation – if you have a germ of an idea but you don’t know where to go with it, writing it down helps. We write in order to learn what we want to write.

• Lack of productivity – They may not be “great” words and they may not be “final” words. But filling a page while Zero Draft Writing gives you a sense of accomplishment. Plus, I guarantee you’ll find a nugget of something if you keep at it. (And likely several nuggets.)

• Motivation – Ever try pumping water from a well by hand? Those first couple of cranks are near-impossible. Then, it’s very hard. But eventually, the water starts flowing. Zero Draft Writing helps you get through those first few pumps to get your creativity moving. It soon becomes fun!

• Confused thoughts – I get stuck all the time wondering if I should turn left or right with my characters. Zero Draft Writing helps me do both so I can decide which one works best.

• Imposter Syndrome – Sometimes we’re stopped in our tracks before we even start because we’re comparing ourselves to another writer. It’s literally debilitating. Zero Draft Writing can help in a similar way to fear: if you’re too busy writing, you’re too busy to think about the things that might normally stop you.

Zero Draft Writing greases the wheels, primes the pump, sparks creativity, drives ideas, and helps you made headway – all at the same time! It works if you’re stuck or unsure of what to say or unsure of how to say what you want to say. It works whether you believe in it or not because your creativity can’t help but kick in.

The only things it takes are:

1. Your favourite writing platform from notebook to Word to Scrivener

2. The willingness to let go, put down any old words, and let the process drive your creativity rather than the other way around

It even works when you’re not stuck! I use it regularly in my fiction and my day-job writing.

So please, when you have a moment, just try it. Set aside some time just to experiment. Even if you keep none of it. Please.

Please, please, please, please, pleeeeeease!

Over to You

Have you tried Zero Draft Writing? If not, are you willing to give it a try? Either way, please let us know in the comments below! I’d really appreciate it: social proof – i.e., knowing that other writers have tried it – helps get others to try it, too.

Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

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Here’s the thing you should know about cliff diving. It’s one of the few things in the world in which you can’t change your mind once you’re committed.

I know. I literally tried once. I said, “Nope.” and turned, hoping to scramble back onto the rocky ledge. But of course, gravity had other ideas.

Spoiler alert: I survived.

Here’s the thing about cliff diving as a metaphor for writing. When you jump and commit, good things happen. Even if you say, “Nope.” halfway down.

Spoiler alert: you always survive.

Taking that leap in your writing is both the hardest and easiest thing you can do. Taking the leap means trusting that it will all work out.

And in this case, there isn’t a downside to trusting in yourself. You risk nothing, except a bit of time, ink, and paper.

The reward though is everything.

If it helps, know that I take the leap every single day. I rarely know where any particular piece is going to go, and I often feel a flutter of trepidation while treading water in that not-knowing headspace. The absolute worst that’s happened is that I’ve had to start again.

Usually though, the leap pays off.

Take a leap. See what happens. Repeat.

Over to You

Is writing a leap of faith for you, too? How do you overcome doubt and anxiety? Do you feel the wretched tug of perfectionism trying to drag you under? Let us know in the comments below!

Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

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Even though it seems like a basic question, “What is story?” is something I’ve been wrestling with – in definition and in my WIP. It’s not as easy for me to pin down as I would like.

Recently, in the Writing Craft Book Club, we covered Story Genius by Lisa Cron. If you read our review, you can see that most of us saw good and bad in that book. But it has a definition of story that I like. I’m paraphrasing, but essentially plot is what happens in a work of fiction whereas story deals with the context – what the events in the plot mean to the characters, and most specifically to the main character (MC).

The way I look at it now, your MC has to change in some way by the end. The plot is the crucible that forces change. The story is the way your MC reacts to that crucible, how they grow, how their lives are different once the plot wraps up. Your MC has to have a reckoning of some sort, a realization that what they thought before was wrong. The story shows how they overcome their misbeliefs to become a better version of themselves.

In other words, stories are about people.*

Understanding this was a key step for me in my development as a fiction writer. I seem to have a knack for writing non-fiction articles in a way that are engaging and entertaining. (Not to toot my own horn – just that I’ve been actively developing that skill for over 30 years now…) However, that story/plot balance seems much more difficult for me in fiction writing.

One theory I have is that although I can naturally see a storyline in a non-fiction piece, it’s harder for me to make it up as I go. For an inexact example, I can look at a room and say, “Oh yes, I like the design!” because I know what I like. But it wouldn’t be as easy for me to create that room myself. There’s a disconnect for me between seeing story and inventing story.

But I’m getting better. The first step, as they say, is realizing you have a problem… lol

As I work my way through my WIP, I’m consciously trying to connect plot (external action) to story (resulting internal conflict). More often now, I’m reverse-engineering: what internal conflict do I want for my MC, and what external plot point would best bring that on?

This approach is helping me resolve issues I had with plot. At certain points, I wasn’t sure why the characters were doing what they were doing, other than it was interesting (I hoped). In extreme situations, I played with whether or not the opposite action might work better. I had no idea. I didn’t have a compass to decide which direction to take.

But looking at story as the driving force gives me that compass. Instead of looking for plot points, I’m framing the story in terms of my MC’s ups and downs on his way through the crucible. I know which way the plot should go because I know what way I want the MC’s story to go.

At first, it seemed like a weird and backwards way of doing things. But it made sense once I started doing it! I’ve found a more effective way of connecting story with plot.

This is the basic approach I’m when trying to decide the next plot point:

• Decide what I want the character to go through at this point of the story – a challenge or a respite, etc. How do I want my MC – and by extension the reader – to move forward?

• What’s next? A major challenge like running from a bear? A respite like a picnic by the lake with a potential love interest? An intellectual challenge like solving a puzzle of some kind? In each instance, I’m trying to find the exact right situation to test (or rest) my main character AND still fit naturally in the plot.

• I try to include a setback or the seed of a setback into the scene so he’s not moving entirely forward – at least not until nearer the end of the novel. It can’t all come up roses until (at least) the end! This keeps up tension and keeps things interesting.

• I’m trying to be more aware that non-MCs have rich inner lives, too. What do they need to get out of the scene? How are they changing? How are they at odds with the MC? What direction is their general character arc going?

I’ve recommended Story Genius here before, and I’ll recommend it again. It’s helped me see crafting my novel in new ways.

Over to You

Have you read Story Genius? How did it affect your writing? Do you have any tips for balancing story and plot? Let us know in the comments below!

Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

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Spoiler Alert and Fair Warning: You’ve heard these two words from me a million times!

Last year, Oasis enjoyed a revival of sorts, which made me revisit their music.

I was never a huge-huge fan, though I liked (like) a couple of their songs. My son and daughter-in-law managed to see them in Toronto, which they were over the moon about. I come from an age when Oasis was considered a derivative band. People said that they ripped off the Beatles – there’s even an oblique joke referencing that sentiment in the movie Yesterday. I hopped on that bandwagon for sure.

Are they really that much of a hack band? The short answer is no. It’s clear the band’s songwriter Noel Gallagher was inspired by the Beatles. He references Beatles songs in his own lyrics.

But you have to remember that at one point, Oasis was the biggest rock band in the world. That doesn’t happen for hack bands. Thirty-odd years later, I think it’s safe to say their songs have stood the test of time.

Any-the-who, during this revisit to Oasis of mine, I watched a couple documentaries about the meteoric rise and implosive fall of the band. I gained a new appreciation for Noel Gallagher’s song writing approach. He said something in one of these documentaries that really struck a chord with me (pun unintended…)

I re-read the title of this post, and I know some will think it’s too click-baity. I’m wondering myself. But I did want to obfuscate the answer because these are very much two words I have said in almost all of the 124 posts I’ve written so far:

Have fun!

Why will these two words immediately help you boost your creativity? It’s like Gallagher said: if you feel your work is too “important” or “serious” or “earth-shattering”, you’ll never get the words down.

• Having fun frees you to explore and experiment without reprisal.

• Having fun allows you to look at your writing from different angles.

• Having fun taps into pockets of your creativity that just can’t be reached otherwise.

There aren’t any straight lines to creativity. But with serious writing, all you have are straight lines. Try some loop-de-loops and find out where they take you!

Over to You

Have you tried to have fun and let go with your writing? What happened? Any other tips for not getting too serious with your writing? Let us know in the comments below!

Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

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It’s happening.

I think few will contest that AI is here to stay. For writers – especially professional writers – the choice is adapt or die. We can rail and rant and scream like Lear on the moors, but we can’t stay blind to the truth. And, there’s no Cordelia to save us; only Claude.

I can tell you unequivocally that I have lost business to AI. Because of this, I’m in a middle of a complete rebrand of my day job – part of the reason why I put my novel on the backburner for a moment. Because you see, AI can’t do everything that we can. It can maybe “write” (somewhat poorly, is the consensus). It can crunch data, but it can’t do research in the human sense – it has to be told what to look for. It can’t strategize. It can’t decide what to write. And, crucially, AI can’t tell the human story.

You and I can.

To literally add insult to injury, writers are being told by editors and clients and even readers that their writing “didn’t pass the AI test”. Which, bee-tee-dubs, is run by the same fallible AI. I’ve read posts on Reddit about the frustration of being rejected on suspicion of AI, even when it was never used. Then there is the popular case right now of Shy Girl, the novel being pulled from UK shelves – the first book, as the New York Times describes it, to be “pulled over evidence of AI use”.

The author claims she never did, but her editor may have…

For the record, I believe her. AI is full of hidden landmines for us to navigate, guided by hope alone. For example, is it okay for us to use AI to bat around ideas? Create an outline for us? Write – or edit – even one sentence? Spellcheck?

The mind boggles wordles.

How to Thwart the AI Check (Maybe)

• Make up words. I verbize nouns all the time, but maybe not as much as a nounify verbs. A word of warning: reader tolerance varies on this, especially in formal writing. I’ve never let that stop me from trying, though.

• Make spelling mistakes. Those of you who know me IRL can see me cringing as I type that sentence. For me though, it’s easy when I write in Canadian English. AI (surprise, surprise) only writes in US English as far as I’ve seen.

• Use spaces in your em-dashes… and use en-dashes instead. Apparently, the use of em-dashes is one of the “tell-tale” signs of AI writing. I’ve always used en-dashes with spaces on either side. I’m not convinced the average person scrutinizing your work will tell the difference, but it won’t hurt.

• Write incomplete sentences. Like this one. It’s another thing that AI tends not to do.

• Vary sentence length. From what I understand, AI likes nice, neat, averaged sentences. Screw that. Write long. Short. Something that lands in-between. (It’s a good writing tip in general, anyway.)

• Have a voice. I was talking with a group of writers last night (as I write this) about how flat and bland AI’s voice is. It also borders in that uncanny valley, a term usually used for off-putting AI-generated images of humans (like in The Polar Express). Reading AI-generated words gives me a mild version of that aversion. Finding your voice is a perennial discussion, but worth doing now more than ever.

• Add random words in other languages that people will still understand. For example, French can give your writing a certain je ne sais quoi.

• Add personal insights and anecdotes. AI doesn’t have a life. Therefore, AI can’t draw on life. Sprinkle in tidbits from your own world, like the fact that you watched Survivor last night or that you were remembering the best cappuccino you ever had in that little café on the square that overlooks the Eiffel Tower…

• Add specific details. Like remembering the best cappuccino you ever had in that little café on the square that overlooks the Eiffel Tower…

• Add repetition that serves a purpose. Like remembering the best cappuccino you ever had in that little café on the square that overlooks the Eiffel Tower…

• Create new twists on old clichés. “The mind boggles wordles.” may not be the best example out there. But you see where I’m going with it. AI is not creative enough to think up even my lamest jokes.

• Here’s a bonus tip: keep all your drafts. This isn’t my idea, but I love it. If someone (client, editor, etc.) unjustly accuses you of using AI, sending Drafts 1 through whatever to show how the document progressed may help your case.

To paraphrase George Carlin, never underestimate the power of stupid AI – or the people who rely too much on it. Follow all of these points, and I still can’t personally guarantee your words (or mine) won’t be flagged. Some might also believe it’s unfair that we’re forced to resort to this. It changes our writing, and not always for the good. To that I say: yes, I agree. But also, Lear and moors and blindness.

I’ll leave you with one last thought. When all else fails, fall back on righteous indignation. It’s another thing going all the way back to Siri that AI can’t pull off convincingly.

Over to You: Have You Ever Been Accused of Using AI?

Let us know in the comments below! I’m also interested to hear your hot take on this cold, cold subject. What’s your relationship with AI in your writing life?

Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

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I wonder if other artists have it as hard as writers when it comes to “creating art”?

For example, I’ve heard of musicians struggling to get music out. Apparently, Sarah McLachlan had to lock herself away to write the songs for her album, “Fumbling Toward Ecstasy”. On the other hand, I’ve heard of musicians writing songs purely by jamming.

Writers though – we seem hell bent on concentrating hard to find the right words. Whatever that means. I don’t know how many times I’ve underlined this concept of having fun with words, and still I’ll get a little tense from time to time when I sit down to write “real” work on my novel.

I’m getting better. Constant reminders help. Like this video about Nirvana’s monster hit, Smells Like Teen Spirit.

Cobain wrote that song without any formal music background. He didn’t purposefully set out to create some of the most iconic riffs in rock history. It was all done by feel, as Warren Huart explains in a video in his “Produce Like a Pro” YouTube series.

Is it possible to write by feel, too?

I think it is – and I’ve been trying to do that for many years now, in practice if not in name. I like coming up with a few simple words and riffing on them like they’re notes on a guitar.

Here’s an example. I dug up an old note I emailed myself for a novel once called Novel 4. That note was this:

“For Roddy, blue was the colour of freedom.”

I vaguely remember when this popped into my head. It had nothing to do with anything at that point in the book. I needed another character, someone who lived on the rougher side of life. I ran with it, not really knowing where it would take me. Why was blue the colour of freedom? Roddy was an inmate, cooped up in prison 23 hours per day. His one hour outside allowed him time to “escape” in his mind, staring up at the infinity of blue sky rather than the beige walls three feet away in any direction.

I riffed out a whole scene that started with those eight words – those eight notes. I wrote by feel. I wasn’t sure if they would work or if the character would work or if I was writing the novel or just a character sketch. A vignette. I just wrote.

As it turned out, the whole book was abandoned. For reasons.

But that’s the fun of writing, right? The adventure of following alleyways, not quite sure what’s around the corner. And if alleyways turn into dead ends, as they sometimes do… well, we had a lovely afternoon exploring then, didn’t we?

On the other hand, it’s the only way I find new, surprising worlds…

I think sometimes we are too precious with our words. We aren’t working with diamonds here. Sentences are collections of words are collections of letters that we can move around at will, that we can zap in and out of existence.

So why not arrange them hither and thither, and see what fits? Why not riff and find the dissonant chords that somehow work? Creativity doesn’t come from planning. It comes from not planning. Creativity is the act of chasing ideas down alleyways and bringing them to life.

Deciding whether or not they work comes later.

Over to You

What new worlds have you discovered writing higgledy-piggledy? Were the dead ends as bad as all that? Let us know in the comments below!

Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

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“We tell ourselves stories in order to live.”

This opening sentence from Joan Didion’s essay and collection, The White Album, has always resonated with me, and I come back to it often. I believe it to be true on so many levels – and not just within the realm of writing.

Here are two lines from the TV show Community during a conversation about how everybody lies all the time.

Abed : “We don’t lie when we’re alone.”

Jeff : “Biggest lie ever. Nine out of ten lies occur six inches away from the bathroom mirror. We do most of our lying alone.”

Why do we do lie to the mirror? Because we need to tell ourselves stories in order to live.

This Catch-22 of human nature is part of what makes writing so hard!!! If we can’t be honest with ourselves, how can we be honest with our readers? The answer is: we can’t.

This idea overlaps with another piece of writing advice we’ve talked about before: Hemingway’s “Write One True Sentence”. In that post, I talk more about its relation to “finding your why” in your writing.

But in the more literal sense, it means writing through all the layers of bullshit – the stories we tell ourselves – until we get down to the truth, the context, the real meaning underneath. In other words, it means writing authentically.

That’s our job as writers.

Finding Your Authentic Writing Voice

Easier said than done. But here’s a little trick I came up with to be more authentic in my writing.

Remember back to a moment in your recent past (today, yesterday, last weekend…) when you changed your mind about doing something at the last minute. It could be going to the gym, cleaning the basement, painting the bathroom – whatever.

Ready?

1. Recognize that you may be lying to yourself. The first step isn’t realizing that you have a problem, but that you might have a problem. How many times have you sworn to go to the gym the next day, only to bail because you “had a long day” or “can’t get in the right head space” or whatever? Everyone does it. I’m not judging. But a good self-assessment is a great first step.

2. If you’re lying about that, what’s the truth? In the case of going to the gym, the real answer could be that you hate exercising, don’t want to climb into the car on this cold day, just can’t be arsed, or some other real, human emotional reason(s). What was that emotion for you in this case – and what is the real truth?

3. Write about that truth. You don’t have to show your writing to anyone. For your own edification, write down that truth. Write down how you really feel. Write down how you feel about how you feel (e.g., do you feel guilty for not feeling like exercising?) Write down how you want to do better in the future. Write down your fears about that. Write down how you’ll overcome those fears… And so on.

4. Reverse engineer what just happened. So far, we’ve dug backwards. But what do you think brought you here in the first place? Wind forward again and see if you can identify the (mostly subconscious) motivations at each step that led to your final decision to bail.

5. Remember the path you took there and back. What you just wrote probably won’t show up in any writing you’re doing right now. However, if you remember the path you took to get to that truth beneath the story you told yourself, you may notice that the path to finding your one true sentence in your future writing is easier. Bonus: this exercise may also help you dig down into your characters’ motivations as well.

Congratulations! You now have a whole ream of authentic writing sitting right in front of you!

It will take practice to dig deep like this to find our authentic writing voices every time we sit down to write. I certainly haven’t mastered it! The idea with this exercise though is to start getting comfortable with writing uncomfortable things – especially about ourselves.

But if you ever get stuck in places because you feel the writing is inauthentic, adapt these steps and see if you can dig into what’s not working. Chances are, you’re not getting to the full, honest truth. It doesn’t “ring true” because it’s not true.

One last, brutally honest point to remember. We tell ourselves stories in order to live. So when we push past those stories to the real truth underneath, we are going to die a little.

That, too, is our job as writers.

Over to You: Have You Ever Found Your One True Sentence?

What’s worked for you – and what didn’t? Is it hit or miss, or is there a formula you use? Let us know in the comments below!

Until next time, keep writing with wild abandon!

~Graham

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Share To Write with Wild Abandon

email me if you get lost.