Comments on: Michael Kimball Guest Lecture #2: Keeping Going

By: Michael Kimball

Michael Kimball — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 01:07:21 +0000

I like the simplicity of the distinction, Jane–voice v. plot. I have to hear voice too. The plot comes after I have that–and I try to let the voice tell me what the plot is, so to speak.

By: Michael Kimball

Michael Kimball — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 01:07:00 +0000

I like the simplicity of the distinction, Jane–voice v. plot. I have to hear voice too. The plot comes after I have that–and I try to let the voice tell me what the plot is, so to speak.

By: Michael Kimball

Michael Kimball — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 01:07:00 +0000

I like the simplicity of the distinction, Jane–voice v. plot. I have to hear voice too. The plot comes after I have that–and I try to let the voice tell me what the plot is, so to speak.

By: Michael Kimball

Michael Kimball — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 01:05:13 +0000

I am a big fan of structure, but for me it always comes later in the process–and maybe, at that point, it leads me to some chapters or a few pieces that I wouldn’t have written otherwise. I’ve never been able to start there, though. Too much structure too early in the process and there isn’t enough mystery for me, in terms of what the thing will be.

By: Michael Kimball

Michael Kimball — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 01:05:00 +0000

By: Michael Kimball

Michael Kimball — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 01:05:00 +0000

By: Jane Hammons

Jane Hammons — Sat, 06 Feb 2010 19:27:29 +0000

Many years ago I took a class from Thaisa Frank and she helped clarify something for me that seems simple now that I know it, but might have remained a mystery forever if she hadn’t put it in clear terms. We were reading a piece of mine in class–very short less than 300 words–and some people were bothered because it wasn’t “going anywhere.” I was kind of petrified because this is the only fiction workshop I’ve ever taken, and even though I teach writing, I wasn’t used to talking about my writing in a class, and especially not in the way it was going. So Thaisa asked me if I thought I was a “voice driven” writer or a “plot driven” writer. Voice. Easy. I didn’t even have to think about it. So if I’m hearing the voice–especially in short pieces–I can keep going.

But now I’m working on a novel and I can really appreciate what Jesus says above. I hope it has a strong voice, but it is plot driven and some days I feel completely lost. I’ve made a lot of outlines and one by one they help me move forward. I throw most of them out when I’ve arrived at a place that feels right as opposed to the place designated on the outline. That is, I make an outline to get me going and feel completely free to toss it when it gets in my way.

The other thing I’ve done with this structurally is to create interstitial chapters in third person. They are always really short–maybe 1000 words at the most. So I get a couple of things out of this: one, I get to write short pieces (my true love) while writing something much longer than I’ve ever written; and I get to take a break from the 1st person narrator whose voice, frankly, I sometimes get tired of. Best of all, the short pieces move the plot forward in a clear way, so they bump me forward to the next stage.
(thanks as always Michael for the good conversation)

By: Jane Hammons

Jane Hammons — Sat, 06 Feb 2010 19:27:00 +0000

By: Jane Hammons

Jane Hammons — Sat, 06 Feb 2010 19:27:00 +0000

By: jesusangelgarcia

jesusangelgarcia — Sat, 06 Feb 2010 00:24:51 +0000

Another excellent batch of ideas, Michael, esp. in terms of sentence to sentence, getting the words down. But I have to say, I’m a little confused. Am I the only one here who uses large-scale structural devices within which to improvise or intuit the story?

Here’s what I tried for my 3xbad book: a three-act macro structure (for the overarching narrative and thematic arc) and a micro structure for each chapter, which basically was a bunch of folders stuffed with research, potential scenes, snatches of dialogue, random lines, observations, etc. that I’d collected over time and thought might fit in somewhere at some point (some worked, some didn’t). When I was on a particular chapter, I’d throw all the stuff on the floor, see what I had to work with, arrange a likely path forward, then go for it. If it made sense to rearrange, I would. Discipline makes freedom kinda thing.

I guess my point is that this kind of “outline” (I could never do legit outlines in school, by the way) gave me very specific places to go every time I’d sit down to write, but within this structure, the way I’d write or ultimately what I’d write was wide open to the dictates of the story in the moment of the writing.

As I got to about the last quarter of the novel, I found myself mapping out the trajectory of the various narratives and running themes on a timeline (on a massive hunk of butcher paper), so I could visualize what was going on and better remember where I’d been and where I was going, so I could see what to do next and avoid superfluous tangents. It was almost like graphic scores that composer-improvisers like Rova Saxophone Quartet use. I dunno. I think having such a structure as a beacon throughout helped me set the kind of pacing and intensity I wanted while keeping in mind both the big-picture and minutiae I didn’t want to forget.