Six Questions To Ask As You Write (AKA, "Shit Of Which You Should Be Mindful, Yo")
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As you write, it’s easy to… just Zen the fuck out. Right? You’re writing, you’re tippity-typing, and you find yourself swallowed whole by the moment, lost in the fog, drifting silently through the mists of your story. Next thing you know, you wake up on the floor. You’re naked, but for a pair of Wonder Woman underoos that smell suspiciously of rosehips, and your lips are really, really chapped. Later you’ll discover a tattoo on your lower back (a tramp stamp above the ass-crack) that marks you in lovely calligraphy as “PROPERTY OF MONGO.”
That happens. You’re so absorbed in the moment, you don’t really remember what happened, or how you get here, or just who exactly this “Mongo” fellow happens to be.
This shouldn’t be how you write.
So, here’s what you do.
As you write, you want to keep your mind on a handful of things. You don’t want to get crazy with it; obsession to detail as you write might make you batshit. Nobody wants you to go batshit. I certainly don’t, because then it’s on me. Then I’ve got to carry that burden around.
But these things, maybe you ask yourself these questions before you start writing for the day. Maybe you occasionally pause, take a breath, and reorient yourself to these Six Cardinal Directions. If you can’t answer these questions, then maybe you’re lost, and maybe this scene isn’t working quite right either on the page or in your head. Let’s have a look.
“What Is This About?”
You ever wander into a bookstore or — before the music industry explosively shit the bed — a CD-slash-record store, and as soon as you wander in you lose complete and total track of what it is you’re looking for? You can’t even remember how you got here. Did you drive? Ride a bike? A tuk-tuk? You wander the aisles like a zombie, thumbing through CDs or picking up books, your eyes glazing over, your mouth dry, the name “Mongo” perched precariously on the edge of your thoughts.
Or maybe that’s just me.
Either way, that shit can happen when you’re in the middle of writing.
You start writing, and you suddenly feel like, “What the fuck am I doing here?”
Get that question out of the way early. Ask it. Force yourself to answer. What are you doing here? What is this scene about? Imagine that someone has a gun to your head, and that someone is asking: “Tell me in less than a hundred words what this scene is about, or I will make you perform fellatio on a hunk of hot lead.”
Answering this question anchors you to the day’s writing. It gives you purpose. It grants you intent.
Best of all, it offers clarity.
“Does This Look Like Shit?”
Look at the page you just wrote. Or the paragraph. Or the sentence.
Is everything spelled correctly? Any grammatical goblins gamboling about, cackling and throwing feces?
Is the page one big block of text?
Does everything look right?
Some advice you’ll read will tell you to worry about that stuff later. And that might be the way you want to go with it. Me? I say, be aware of it now. Be aware of it as you go. Why?
First, it makes you a better writer — at least, from the technical side of things. If you become mindful of these things now, you’ll actually make fewer mistakes the next time, and the time after that, and the time after that. You want to improve, right? Grow sharper?
Second, it’ll save you time on the back end. (Heh, back end. Ass!) Seriously, your second edit is best when it’s an edit for content, not an edit for all the little niggling bits and hangnails. This is especially useful as a freelance writer with deadlines to meet.
Third, you won’t catch all the niggling bits and hangnails — you go back and try to fix this stuff in post, you’re going to miss stuff. Easier to do it as you go, provided you don’t get obsessed with it.
Fourth, because you don’t want to be a lazy asshole. You do a job, do it right. You mow the lawn, you don’t leave a patch unmowed “for later.” What are you, a jerk? Don’t be a jerk. “I’ll wipe my ass later.” Man, don’t be that guy. Nobody likes that guy.
“Am I Writing To Spec?”
Again, many writers will simply write — however long it ends up is however long it ends up. Just write! Let the story tell itself!
Nah. Nuh-uh. Bzzt. No. You write the story. (But in Soviet Russia, the story writes you!)
As a freelancer, you start to develop the habit of “writing to spec.” Meaning, writing to specifications. Client wants 50,000 words, then you turn in 50,000 words. I mean, no, not exactly (“I ended the sentence in the middle because I reached my limit!”), but you don’t turn in something that’s 10,000 words over.
In writing a script, you also find this a useful skill — sure, you can write a 240 page magnum motherfucking opus, but nobody’s going to want to produce your four-hour epic about… I dunno, talking cats or whatever.
Whatever you’re writing, have a goal in mind. Know how long you want this to be. A lean-and-mean novel coming out at 70,000 words? An epic fantasy swelling and bloating to 150,000 words? A 90-page script? A 3,000-word short? A 500-word flashbang?
Note this as you go. Note how long a scene should be. Don’t let the story escape your grip. Know that today’s writing shouldn’t go beyond 2,000 words — stay on track. Keep a schedule. Burn yourself with a cigarette if you go too far. Burn the left hand first as a warning. The left hand is the sinister hand. It is the hand that slow-jerks the Devil’s wang.
…this is going off the rails. See what happens when you don’t write to spec? When you don’t control your subject matter? You start talking about diabolical phalluses. And nobody wants that. Well, I know at least one of you wants that, but we’re not going to name any names.
“What’s The Conflict?”
Let me repeat myself: “Conflict is the food that feeds the reader.”
The most significant ingredient to any story is conflict.
Each scene must have conflict. This conflict may reflect the larger conflict of the story, or may have its own smaller conflict intrinsic to the scene.
“Conflict” does not mean that every scene is a fight scene. You do not need ninjas in every scene. I mean, maybe you want them, because — hey, fuck, ninjas are awesome. But a conflict needn’t be a fight. It needn’t even be external. It can be internal — does the character make a choice? Is he struggling with his own worst instincts? Or against his best ones? Love is a conflict. Relationships are conflicts. Humor can be born of conflict, too. Conflict can be huge or it can be itty-bitty.
You need to know what the conflict is. Identify it going in.
“Bob struggles with his addiction to giraffe porn.”
“Betty and Miranda must wrestle in mud to save the orphanage.”
“Casimir must tame the Mighty Humbaba.”
It will drive the scene. More specifically, it will drive the writing of said scene. Here’s a little secret, too — if you know the conflict, then you know the stakes, and stakes are important. Stakes tell you what can be gained or lost in a scene. Conflict feeds the reader, and the stakes (the want or need of said stakes, or the fear that they will come true) is what drives characters to that conflict.
If you ask the question, “What’s the conflict?” and you do not have a good answer, then this scene needs to be dragged out back by the ankle and fed to the hogs.
The scene will mewl and cry, but fuck that. The hogs need to eat, and your story needn’t be bogged down by scenes whose narrative thrust is as substantial as a mushy, jizz-caked tube sock lying on the highway.
“Does This Make Sense?”
This one’s easy.
Does it make sense?
Hold the scene’s feet to the fire.
Does it cry out? Does it suddenly reveal to you the ways in which it really doesn’t make sense?
Are you forcing it? Would your main character really do that? Does the logic hold up? Does the timeline hold up? Do all the moving parts fail to move properly?
Don’t get bogged down on this one. But just keep an eye on it as you go. You may think it’s easy to fix in post, but trust me, you go too far into illogical or nonsensical territory, and it becomes harder and harder to excise things if you’ve hung entire characters or plotlines on shit that just doesn’t make sense.
Do I Like This Scene?
Critical question.
Do you like what you’re writing today?
Do you like this scene?
You’ll know. This is a gut-check question. Doesn’t need a lot of scrutiny (and if it does, then you have your answer already — you don’t really like it).
This is simple: if you don’t like it, then don’t keep it.
Why don’t you like it? Fuck, I dunno. We’re talking about you, not me. What I do know is this: if it doesn’t pass the smell-test, it means you’re sensing that something about this scene just doesn’t work. And that’s okay. Good you caught it now. It may help if you figure out what it is that doesn’t work (like a crooked painting on the wall, it’ll drive you nutty until you figure it out and straighten it), or it may help if you just throw the scene to the hogs and replace it with something you do like.
The secret is always this: if you don’t like something, then the reader won’t like it either. They will feel your disdain and discomfort. It’ll be like sitting in on an uncomfortable family dinner. Don’t do that to your reader. You’re doing this for her, after all. Why do you want to be a jerk to your reader? She didn’t do anything to you. Heck, she bought your book, didn’t she?
Oh, and if you’re one of those writers who hates writing — and I know you’re out there, you fucking weirdos — then maybe, just maybe, you shouldn’t be writing at all. I’m just putting that out there. You do with it as you wish. Take it or leave it. But me, I say you feed your so-called “career” to the hogs. They oink because they’re hungry.
About The Author
ChuckWendig
Chuck Wendig is equal parts novelist, screenwriter, and game designer. He is the author of the novels DOUBLE DEAD, BLACKBIRDS, and MOCKINGBIRD. In addition, he's got a metric boatload of writing-related e-books available, including the popular 500 WAYS TO BE A BETTER WRITER. He currently lives in the wilds of Pennsyltucky with wife, dog, and newborn progeny.
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Thank you. You’re being very helpful lately even when I didn’t ask for specific help.
This was great.
What can I say? My psychic powers are profound.
All good things to keep in mind. I have a tendency to go into a “No-Mind” state when I find my groove.
While this can frequently open up some unexpectedly good scenes/bits, it nearly always adds an additional draft to the process as I have to go through and remove the winged otter phalluses from my space-horror story.
@Paul –
Here I thought you said, “Remove the winged otter phalluses from my space-horror story,” but surely I misread that, for why one would ever remove such a glorious invention?
It’s like you just came up with Star Wars. It’s that good.
– c.
@Chuck: I agree, it does have a certain appeal. The image I had of them made me leery of people getting the impression that I was simply making an attempt at a “Giger meets Rowling” mash-up.
“Psychic powers”, eh? Hrm, I might have to add a bit to Cipher concerning a certain freelance writer. Would you say that you are more of a Clairvoyant or a Telepath?
I am the rare “Televoyant Clairopath.”
But you can just call me “Claire.”
– c.
“Claire Wendigo, aspiring author and Rogue Cipher who gathers material for her books by peering into the minds of Mongolian Yak-Shaggers.
Her best-selling series of Batukhan the Wanderer novels recently hit bestseller status with the release of her most recent effort, Murder in the Yurt.”
Heh.
Murder in the Yurt.
I could do a rap album: “Murder in the Yurt Degree.”
– c.
Her first novel, Love Yurts, was demonized as pornography. Her subsequent mystery-thrillers drew less directly from her Yak-Shagger intel.
All of these are good questions to ask, in addition to the “Who is this Mongo person? Or have I perhaps been sold to Ming the Merciless?” questions.
As necessary as exposition is, it can be dry and boring to write. And my rule of thumb (or wrist) is that if it’s dry & boring to write, it’ll be dry and boring to read. Ergo it falls under Question #6.
@Josh:
Word. Making Exposition Awesome might be a future post. Because, exposition is sometimes necessary, but it should never be a boat anchor.
– c.
Well put, and I hope Paul hasn’t given up on his sci-fi idea. I have one question: do the otter phalluses have wings, or are they the phalluses of winged otters? It may seem a small distinction, but it could make all the difference regarding public acceptance and a possible movie deal.
@Dana, I ask you, I beseech you: can’t it be both?
– c.
@Dana: Actually, I saw them as having not only wings on their backs & phalluses (phalli?), but on the ankle-bones as well, a-la Hermes. This gives them 6 wings in total. With the addition of multiple pair of eyes scattered across their bodies, this would, in fact, make them the cousins to the Seraphim.
Mmmmm, angelic, winged otter penises. Off to get crackin’ on an outline.
Great questions — a valuable way to step back and scope out the big-picture terrain as you’re writing. I ask more of these implicitly than explicitly, but I think that may be a mistake. Considering writing these down and putting them up on my wall.
You know, weirdly, I don’t usually write over-spec. I often UNDERwrite and have to go back and add in details that were in my head, but most times I’m trying to get the actions down, not the details. I’m lead to understand that other writers don’t quite work this way. I have no idea which way is better, since in my case I have to invent shit to make it seem like it’s a reasonable length, and cutting is easier than adding.
Also, if you put these on a computer wallpaper so I could keep it on my computer desktop, I would never wash my computer again.
I’ve been having problems lately with a seventh, somewhat related, question: “Is this good enough?” Good enough to move on to the next scene or next story, I mean. It’s just so tempting to re-read and re-polish something endlessly — hey, every time I read it, I find a flaw, so I can’t send it out yet, right? But that means I’ve been sitting on four finished short stories/ novelettes and only two of them are currently submitted anywhere…
These are great questions to keep in mind while writing, and this post will definitely be one of my future references when the day finally comes that I can allow myself to work on another project.
Chuck, could one of your future posts be about the best ways to go about editing/revising/rewriting a novel? That’s the hell I’m stuck in now (okay, it’s not hell, it’s just hellishly slow) and I’m hoping you have some mage-like wisdom that will cut down on the insane amount of revisions I end up doing on every section of my story. Each time I tackle a chapter or scene or 500 word section I end up revising it at least 5-10 times. And even when I think it’s perfect, I can read it a week later and still change things. Is this normal or am I just freakishly revision happy? Or maybe freakishly sucky in my first draft that it NEEDS that many revisions?
I don’t know, but if I don’t find a better system then my WIP won’t be ready for submission until 2023.
@John:
My two cents: that is not a valuable question.
It’s subjective, and subject to an immeasurable metric. “Do I like it?” is subjective, but pretty binary: you do, or you don’t. But “good enough” is a waffling, flimsy question — in advertising, we’d call those “weasel words.” Good enough for what? For whom? By what comparison?
You can get stuck in a foot-miring morass if you keep asking that question, and you’ll never be able to move forward.
– c.
@Gina:
Do you outline?
With outlining, I like to say that you’re not aiming for an “A+,” you’re aiming for a “B+” — as good as you can make it. Beyond that B+ grade lies a realm of subjectivity where you’re basically trying to please unnamed, faceless masters.
You have to know when to stop, because endless revisions are just another way authors fail to complete their manuscript. It’s basically running in circles ten feet from the finish line.
You also sound like you revise as you go — not always the best choice. I revise a little on the page as I write it, but otherwise, I move forward, forward, forever forward. Like a shark, or a bullet. Or a bulletshark.
– c.
@Paul & Chuck,
So they’re winged otter winged phalli (and ankles)? Is there a place I can pre-order?
I haven’t read anything, because I’m too busy being horrified by the top image.
I can’t really blame you.
“Running in circles ten feet from the finish line.” That’s a great image. And exactly how I feel sometimes.
I didn’t start this with an outline, because I didn’t even know I was going to write this seriously until I was a few chapters in. I just let it lead me around by the nose. Once I started thinking about the story as a whole (rather obsessively) I made a very vague outline just so I wouldn’t forget the timeline of what I wanted to happen, but I doubt that it was anything like a “writer’s outline” really should be.
At any rate, I like the thought of aiming for a B+. I think it will take some of the pressure off that I feel I need to be striving for some unrealistic masterpiece of perfection that no agent or publisher will be able to find fault with, so how could they possibly refuse to sign me.
Maybe it would be helpful if I gave myself a max amount of revisions per section? Like, once I sit down with a section I can do two revisions total and after that I leave it the hell alone and move on.
Do you use Beta Readers or a crit group/CP with your books? I’m torn about using them or not using them (and writing a post about it for my blog tomorrow). Just curious as to your thoughts on the matter.
As always, thanks for your selfish unleashing of advice.
@Gina:
My thoughts on this — and other writers may have wildly divergent opinions, which is all good — is that you cannot let your story have a lot of leash. It’s like a dog. A dog is a dog; it’s not a person, much as we want to treat it that way. A manuscript is not some free-wheeling muse-driven thing. It’s a story. You are in control of it, as surely as you are in control of drawing a line or typing a single word. So, don’t let it loose. Don’t let it lead you. You must lead it.
Which is not particularly practical advice, I grant you.
Outlines, though, are one way of leashing the manuscript.
Mind maps, too. Or story bibles. Or big books of notes. Whatever works to give you the sense of determination and control you require.
I have used readers int he past, but not a crit group. It’s tricky, because you really have to trust the input of those who will read it.
A set number of revisions might be helpful, but don’t make it arbitrary — I’d say just keep cooking the stew until the meat is tender. Doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be good.
– c.
Thanks, Chuck.
I truly appreciate you taking the time to answer my issues, though it steered away from the daily topic at hand. Maybe if you’re not too busy tomorrow you can stop by page in the world and offer your thoughts on my Beta vs. VHS post. 
Asta la bye-bye.
I pasted these questions in Notepad, and was thinking about what to do with them when I noticed an amusing placement on my desktop. So I snipped it:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/21095070@N03/4514838297/
Dang, that’s priceless!
Hahaha. Woo.
– c.
Went ahead and used a little Photoshop-fu while waiting for some software to update to make a full wallpaper.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/21095070@N03/4515335879/
Thanks!!
Every scene having conflict. Although I LIKE my scenes at least half ARE missing something. I keep thinking; ‘well I’ll fix that in the re-write’, but then that can add up to alot of fixing, so your advice on getting that sorted before you get into the scene, have it drive the scene is excellent.
I spend a bit of time before writing one anyways, ruminating on it, and seeing it in my mind – so I think this will work out well for me. It is seldom that I find anything useful and by that I mean so much written on various ‘writing’ sites are re-hashing the same shit, which quite frankly if you need to be told some of it, should you even be writing?
But that your advice there, so simplistic, yet so easy to forget will on a sticky note above desk along with; Show don’t Tell
Thanks, I really enjoy this site.
T.
Chuck, you’re fucking HILARIOUS!
Subscribed!!
Haha
Best,
Jonesy
Thanks, Jonesy! Hey, you were at DIY Days, yeah?
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