Writer's Life: The Socks Must Go (Rachel)

One morning a few weeks ago, I woke to a character talking in my head. No, I am not crazy. It is just one of those things that occasionally happen to authors as we are working through the writing process. The event happens more often when I am working on a novel.

This particular character plays the hero in my latest work-in-process, Rumpled Rhett. A big, muscular, dangerous huntsman, Rhett excels in using various weaponry forms and is known far and wide for his skills as a tracker and mercenary. All things considered, I was a bit surprised at his demand.

Rhett: The socks must go.

Me: What? (I hadn’t had my morning tea yet and my head was a bit fuzzy still.)

Rhett: Cat’s socks must go. They are made up of more holes than socks. They are unsanitary, not to mention worthless.

Me: You do realize I described them that way because they serve as a symbol of her life in her father’s house. There he neglected, abused, and—

Rhett: They must be destroyed! I am going to burn them.

Me: What? Those are the only socks she has! How am I going to find a way to replace them? You can’t let her wander around with bare feet in the middle of winter. And medieval rural societies don’t have much in the way of premade excess goods. We will need wool. Do you have access to wool? Can she knit? Can you knit? Is knitting even historically accurate? What about crotchet? 

Rhett: … (Eyes me as I continue to panic) Are you done?

Me: No! You can’t burn her socks! There are so many reasons why you can’t. Smallest of which is I can’t figure out how to replace them.

Rhett: I have that one covered. What are your other reasons?

Me: You will traumatize her. She isn’t even comfortable around you yet. If you go whipping off her socks, she isn’t going to handle that well.

Rhett: (Shrugs) She hasn’t exactly been acting like a rabbit so far.

Me: She is fragile, emotionally traumatized. Healing takes time. Such an unexpected move on your part will undermine her trust in you. You can’t go invading her space and destroying her personal clothing.

Rhett: I can if I do it right.

Me: Right how?

Rhett: Figuring out the details is your job. I just stick to being me. The socks are going to burn.

Me: You are supposed to be earning her trust not destroying her clothing!

Rhett: I am earning her trust. I promised that I would take care of her and I will, beginning with the socks.

Me: (Groans) Where are the new socks coming from?

Rhett: I have an extra pair.

Me: Okay … (Mulls it for a few minutes) I might be able to work with that. They are good, thick socks, right?

Rhett: Anything less would be impractical. One can’t go tramping far without some quality socks.

Me: (Sighs) Fine. You can take the socks.

Rhett: I shall burn them.

Despite all of this negotiation and planning, I couldn’t write thanks to the miscellaneous necessary life tasks. Life happens, and I don’t always get to write when I wish. I spent two days with Rhett in my head, randomly reminding me that he would be burning Cat’s socks in the next scene. 

Rest assured, the socks did burn the next time I sat down to write. Rhett saw to it. Also, Cat wasn't pleased at first.

At least, my life is never boring.

Writer's Life: No Plot? No Pants? No Problem! (Lauricia)

 “Are you a plotter or a pantster?”

Utter this question in a group of writers and watch from a safe distance as the formerly unified whole splits into two parts like the ground on a fault line in an earthquake (and with about as much noise). Notice the shifty glances cast as writers discreetly shuffle to one side or the other of the gap now forming, ever-so-subtly aligning themselves with those who are likeminded. Look on and wonder, “What have I done?”

What you have done, my friend, is broached one of today’s literary hot topics.

While the divide is not nearly so dramatic as an earthquake, many authors are firmly established as one or the other, and knowing which side you stand on could be foundational in your career as a writer.

A plotter is someone who outlines an entire work before sitting down to actually write it. Writing this way gives authors a detailed map, allowing them to plan minute details before even writing a word.

 A pantster, on the other hand, is someone who writes without the outline, literally “flying by the seat of the pants”. Pantsters prefer this method because it allows the story to grow more organically, and allows the writer to be surprised during the writing process.

Well known plotters include Katherine Anne Porter, John Grisham, R.L. Stein, and J.K. Rowling. Nora Roberts, Margaret Atwood, Pierce Brown, and Stephen King are among the pantsters. Many authors fall into one of the two camps, and you can find a lot of resources online to help you identify which style suits you the most.

Me, however… I’m more of an excavator. As I’m playing with my initial idea, I find scenes scattered throughout the plot like bones peeking through surface dirt. I craft those scenes carefully, executing the tools to hand as precisely as an architect excavates fragile skeletal fragments from the earth. Once out in the open, I hang them on a plot diagram in rough-guestimation about where they belong. As I write, more of the current work’s structure is exposed, and a better picture of the overall whole begins to form, allowing me to plan the positioning and execution of the elements of the work accordingly.

Much like exhuming a fossilized skeleton from the ground, my method is slow, painstaking work. It requires many drafts, but what work-in-progress (WiP) doesn’t? And, oh, the surprises I find along the way!

If, like me, you find you are neither a plotter nor a pantster, never fear. Writing is subjective, even down to its very creation, and no to authors work exactly the same way. My suggest is to experiment with both plotting and pantsing, borrow what works from each method, and meld them into a combination of your own. Then, when your WiP is completely excavated and ready to be viewed by the masses, look on and wonder at the amazing thing you have done.

What about you? Do you write best as a plotter, a pantster, or an excavator? Let us know in the comments below.