Organized Writing Chaos

A Journalist’s Diary

Florian Schoppmeier
Of Pictures & Words
4 min readAug 9, 2024

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A display of a DSLR camera and a paper notebook sitting on a camera bag.
A display of a DSLR camera and a paper notebook sitting on a camera bag.

Writing often feels like organized chaos. I hope there’s some organizational element to my writing process, even if it sometimes doesn’t feel like it.

But the organizational part is one of the most important pieces of the puzzle we call writing. Without it, we are likely to get lost in the information overflow, lose track of where the work is going, and, ultimately, are in danger of losing any momentum we might have had.

Being an organized writer pays dividends regardless of the circumstances. But it especially shines when a project is on hold and progress is slow. I experience both with my short story pleasure writing.

I wrote about planning and progress in April. Today’s post deals with a similar issue: sequencing and the aids that keep us writers on track.

Identifying key moments

Before I get to those aids, let’s talk about the basics first. It begins with collecting the required information and understanding which parts are essential.

Writing is thinking on paper, as William Zinsser so poignantly wrote (I believe in his book On Writing Well). One of the heaviest thinking tasks as a writer is knowing what information we need and how we separate it from all the information we don’t need.

It’s a challenge. One I enjoy wrestling with on an ongoing basis. It’s only logical I enjoy taking in how others take it on. A recent stimulus was a series of posts from a familiar source, the Nieman Storyboard blog, which published a series of posts on narrative interviews.

I found the distinction between pivot points and defining moments (or external and internal factors that drive a narrative) in Kim Cross’s The art of the narrative interview: Sequencing your story helpful.

While a pivotal moment is an event that changes the trajectory of the story, “a defining moment is also pivotal, but nothing actually changes except a character’s perception. It’s an ‘a-ha’ moment, the realization of some insight or truth that changes everything,” as Cross sums it up.

I highly recommend the post (and series), for it delivers tips and tricks about using the information that one records as an interviewer to find follow-up questions, fill the gaps in the information, and identify noteworthy moments as you talk to people.

I’ve always been fascinated by this sort of talk, which reminds me of a podcast series from a few years ago on the topic. If you have not yet done so, check out The Turnaround, where Jesse Thorn interviews interviewers — a fascinating, insightful, educational, and entertaining listening experience.

Organizational aids

But enough about interviewing, sorting information, and learning to identify what’s what.

Let’s talk about the organization of the information and the aids that help us with that.

One word that always pops up here is timeline.

I shared how it helped me with my personal pleasure writing (especially in times with little to no progress and limited time to work on a project).

I find comfort in a timeline. The time I invest in little aids like that is invaluable, for they bring me back into the zone quickly.

But it also helps with visualizing and realizing the order of things. Or as Cross puts it: “It helps me stay grounded in time and immersed in the ‘narrative now’ of the story — the time frame in which most of the scenes are unfolding.”

What stands out from her post are the timeline examples. I always enjoy reading about and seeing how different the concept of a timeline can look. It can be folders and printed documents or spreadsheets and a color-coding extravaganza. It’s all about what works for someone’s brain.

While it’s not directly related, seeing those timeline examples made me remember how I used a visual aid for a grammar rule in my Yale summer days. I can’t quite remember what the concept was, but I remember my writing teacher adding a comment, which noted the exercise was probably a bit extensive, but it seemed to work for me, so I should continue.

Returning to the article one last time, when I saw her “workstation,” I immediately thought about the morning at Quinnipiac when I had my small aha moment while wrestling with the journalism history puzzle of post-WW II broadcasting in Germany. Luckily, I was alone in the room and could spread out the draft to see connections that had eluded me until that moment.

Spreading out the draft (center) helped me connect the dots of the narrative & a couple of other “workstations” that helped me make sense of information. Hamden, Connecticut, U.S.A., 2015.

I walk away from this read with the reminder to never shy away from experimenting with organizational aids. There’s not one thing to rule them all. It’s a highly individual process that can evolve and change with every project.

Know what’s out there and experiment. Invest the energy to manage the information you collect. The thinking cap is the most essential tool for any journalist, writer, photographer, or storyteller.

It’s the mindset reminder I needed before enjoying the start of the next phase of my big-little short story endeavor.

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