In Today’s Journal
* Intro
* Faux Interview, Part 1
* Of Interest
Intro
Late in September, I received a scam email from a guy who purported to host a podcast in Dallas. Of course he gushed about my work, my websites and newsletters and so on, and he invited me to participate as a guest on his podcast. The entire email was obviously generated by AI.
But the boatload of proposed questions in the email comprised a great interview. So I copied and pasted most of the proposed questions into a Word document, deleted any duplicates, then wrote my responses to the remaining questions.
Beginning today, I’ll post a six-part series featuring this faux interview. The final installment, shorter than the others, will post next Monday along with the Bradbury Challenge results.
Here are the questions and my responses. I’ve numbered the questions and set them in bold type for easy reference in case you have any questions for me.
Faux Interview, Part 1
- What changes when a writer stops trying to control the story?
Everything. Freedom happens. When you assume control of a person, a situation, or even something as unimportant as a story or novel, you also assume personal responsibility for that person, situation, or story.
Not controlling the story leaves the responsibility for it with the characters and with the story itself. Not carrying that responsibility frees you to simply follow the characters around, accurately record (write) what happens, and write the characters’ reactions in word and deed to what happens.
- The idea behind Writing Into the Dark is fascinating because it challenges one of the assumptions many aspiring writers are taught from the beginning: that a writer needs to know where the story is going before writing it. Your description suggests almost the opposite.
Actually my description suggests—no, demands—the exact opposite.
“What writers are taught” are fear-based myths. The main myths are that you must outline (or plan or “plot”), then revise, seek critical input, rewrite, and “polish” (whatever that means). And all of those are based on the premise you mentioned in your question: that writers must know where the story is going and maybe even how it ends before they write it.
The myths were started back in the 1940s or 1950s by unscrupulous sorts who wanted to establish unreasoning fears so they could cash in on writers’ egos.
So those unscrupulous sorts introduced the myths, then wrote nonfiction books and designed whole seminars and workshops and later, online courses addressing ways to accomplish them.
Later those who didn’t know any better—mostly critics, English and Literature teachers and others who speak from a vantage point of deconstruction and criticism—continued to promulgate the same myths.
Those people have been actively harming aspiring fiction writers (under the guise of helping them) for the past 70 or 80 years. They should all be ashamed of themselves for spreading such garbage. I can only imagine the money they make from the burgeoning market for fluff-and-myth-filled nonfiction books, seminars, and courses probably alleviates their sense of shame.
- You trust the creative subconscious, allow the characters to reveal the story, and write forward rather than attempting to construct every element in advance.
I don’t actually even “allow the characters to ‘reveal’ the story.” I merely look in on the characters from time to time to see what they’re doing and what story they’re living.
When I’m very fortunate they invite me to run through the story with them and record it (write it down) for posterity. But they don’t reveal the story anymore than you or I “reveal” our life. The story simply unfolds, they experience it, and I write it.
- How do you know when to trust the story instead of trying to fix it?
I ALWAYS trust the characters and the story. I never “fix” it. It isn’t mine to fix.
The presentation of the story—the manuscript and the resulting publication—is up to me, but that’s only to be sure the reader, as much as possible, can virtually experience what happened in the story and the characters’ reactions to what happened.
- For a writer who is used to outlining, plotting, and revising, giving up control can feel dangerous.
- What if the story goes somewhere unexpected?
The story continually “goes somewhere unexpected” because the characters are simply living their lives and reacting to whatever happens in the story, exactly as you and I do in our lives.
You cannot “expect” or “plan” or “plot” or “outline” spontaneity. That’s why my stories and novels read like real life. Everything—every twist and turn (if any) in every event and the characters’ every reaction to those events and twists and turns—is spontaneous.
So when an even happens I simply enjoy it (or cringe) and write it down. It’s no different than real life.
- What if a character makes a decision the writer didn’t plan?
You’re the diarist (writer) and POV character in your own life story. What if your neighbor or your child or your spouse or someone you’ve never met makes a decision you didn’t plan? Same thing. As a character, you can’t control anything but your own reaction to that decision, and as the diarist of your own life story you can only record what happened in your diary.
- What if the ending isn’t the one the writer originally imagined?
How do you suppose or hope your own life story will end? But short of committing suicide, can you control that?
I do take the point of your questions—they’re all based on the myths of writing—but if the writer is confident enough and bold enough to only observe the story and run through it with the characters, it will always go somewhere unexpected.
That’s what life is, whether it’s your life or your characters’ life: a series of unexpected events to which people react. Did you expect those planes to fly into the World Trade Center? Did you expect the Japanese Imperial Navy to attack Pearl Harbor? Did you expect the horrors Adolf Hitler or Joseph Stalin unleashed on the world?
Life happens. That’s the basis for the story. And how the characters react IS the story.