When Storytelling Attacks!
Poking the Narrative Bear in 3 Steps
I had written my first novel in my 20s based on stories of my friends that I told and retold until they were polished like stones in a tumbler. My theory of narrative back then was built upon this idea and as much as it helped me complete that novel, it hindered further attempts because I thought I needed a to engage in this long, complicated process in order to accomplish the long, involved process known as writing a novel. But I was wrong.
After second and third attempts at writing novels based on stories I told and retold, I stopped trying to write novels. It wasn’t working because I was stuck in the idea that I could only write stories based on myself. I had fallen into a trap. This is how I got out of it and finished a second novel.
Storytelling
There are many ways to tell a story, and infinitely many variations of stories. But all share a common structure with three features: a beginning, a middle and an end (let’s call this the BME). This much I knew instinctively as I told the stories of late-night adventures, trips to Alaska, and the dating foibles of my friends. But when I sat down to write my next novel, the BME loomed above me, like a bear rising on its back legs ready to attack. I just wanted to tell stories like I did at the pub, not poke at this dangerous beast!
What I needed was to get over my compulsion to self-mythologize, but I didn’t know that yet. Somewhere in the back of my head I had taken the “write what you know” dictum to heart and beyond. I only started that first novel when I felt I had enough stories to tell, which worked for me the then, but now?
1. Start small
The hardest part of writing a story for me is always the beginning. I don’t know where to start. Thinking ahead to the End and all the Middle that needs to be told, it’s paralyzing. That huge beast— the Narrative Bear— is sleeping and I don’t want him waking and attacking me.
So I just start writing little episodes about a character or two. Character sketches, really, more than stories, small nuggets of narrative that are easy to handle. Finding a voice, deciding on whether the character needs to be like this or like that. I’m fishing about for the beginning, so I’m casting here and there, waiting for a strike. I’m merely poking the bear, not waking him yet.
If I write an episode a day, in a week I have enough written to print out and look at. I need to give myself some feedback. This is an important step in the storytelling process, but one that is all too easy to skip. If I’m at a pub telling a story about my friend Dan and the date he had at the zoo, I can use the feedback from my audience to keep the story on track. I see their nods, hear their chuckles, and use these as cues to add more details or skip ahead to the exciting part with the warthog.
But sitting alone staring at a laptop, I don’t have those audience cues. There are two steps in replicating the audience depending on what you have available. I am lucky enough to have a few friends who will read anything I write and tell me what they like. Dan, of warthog fame, has read nearly every sketch, episode and chapter I’ve ever written, so I value his feedback. Brian is a writer I admire a lot and gives excellent advice. My co-worker, Erin, once read 15 episodes and picked out one sentence she wanted to read more about. That sentence turned into my 90,000 word second novel. If you don’t have a few friends to read, try your social media contacts. I’ve found willing readers in acquaintances on Facebook or total strangers on Twitter or even Medium.* Failing all that, you have yourself as a reader. Yes, I know, you don’t… you aren’t sure… you can’t judge… Blah, blah, blah. You can.
2. Keep Going
Invariably, as I get writing, I realize that what I thought was the beginning is not. I start with so much backstory that my writing reads like a history article on Wikipedia. All this writing is good for my wordcount, but not very kind to the reader. It takes a while for this to dawn on me. I write and write and listen to a couple readers about what works for them but the Narrative Bear is waking and I start to get scared. I throw words and words at him to keep him at bay. I’ve got a story going in this mess of words somewhere, but I’m not sure how to get it out.
Don’t worry. This is the place where many an aspiring writer abandons a project. Longform narrative is complex and can be tricky, especially if we’re holding ourselves to the high standards of our idols. Whether you like the commercial fiction of a Stephen King, the fantasy of a G.R.R. Martin or the literary playfulness of a James Joyce, you’ve got a picture of what narrative should be in your head and what you’ve been writing is not it. No problem. This part is just about writing, not comparing yourself to your favorite book.
The easiest way to keep going is to skip ahead. Jump to the next spot in the story and start there. I like to keep a running list of notes at the end of the file I’m writing in and leave ideas there. Most times, characters suggest new paths as you write them, but you can’t always follow those paths immediately. That’s perfectly fine, use them when you’re stuck.
3. Smooth it all out
You’ve been poking the Narrative Bear and he’s woken up and stretches out and you’re okay with this because you just kept writing no matter how big and hairy and scary the whole thing felt. You got stuck, you jumped ahead, you pushed through the long middle and even managed a decent ending. But it’s still not a cohesive novel. Now what? Smooth it out. Fill in the holes, cut back the bumpy parts.
I got to the end of the second novel I finished and I was happy. Hell, I was proud of myself. I had even managed to cultivate some readers through online writers groups who slogged through the whole 135,000 words along with me. But it wasn’t good, and there was one detail that everyone hated. I liked the detail, because it was part of my original idea but it was a salacious detail that bothered readers, women especially, and I mistook that for the mark of controversy. I thought that the controversial aspect would increase the dramatic tension, but it just distracted my readers.
Meanwhile, I went through and cut some stuff here and there, the narrator’s overwritten backstory, mostly, and as I revised, I realized I needed to write more to bridge some gaps. So I did, I smoothed but it was still not good. I cut deeper, cut nearly 25% of my total. This helped tremendously, yet it wasn’t until I listened to my readers and changed the salacious detail into an innocuous one that the whole thing worked.
Trying to attack a project like a novel all at once, from every angle, is creative suicide. Instead, start small, handle manageable details like your narrator’s voice and main characters. Give them space to work their own stories out and don’t be afraid to listen to the advice of alpha readers.
*You’re reading this on Medium, right? If you sign up, you can leave me notes. I can reply. Collaboration, Medium calls it, but really just feedback on writing? Why not do the same with your work?
