The Process of Process

Writer, know thyself.

THE INSPIRATION: Architects and gardeners

“I think there are two types of writers, the architects and the gardeners. The architects plan everything ahead of time, like an architect building a house. They know how many rooms are going to be in the house, what kind of roof they're going to have, where the wires are going to run, what kind of plumbing there's going to be. They have the whole thing designed and blueprinted out before they even nail the first board up. The gardeners dig a hole, drop in a seed and water it. They kind of know what seed it is, they know if [they] planted a fantasy seed or mystery seed or whatever. But as the plant comes up and they water it, they don't know how many branches it's going to have, they find out as it grows. And I'm much more a gardener than an architect.”

—George R.R. Martin

I ran across this idea from George just a few days ago, and it’s been in my head ever since. I’ve always referred to these two ends of the process spectrum as plotters and pantsers, but I like this so much better.

If you’re an architect, that’s awesome. If you’re a gardener, that’s awesome. You can also be an architect who does a bit of gardening, or a gardener who sometimes builds a shed from a plan. One isn’t better than the other; we need both.

The degree to which you are an architect or a gardener may change from project to project. The important thing isn’t where you land, but that you honor where you landed, and don’t waste any energy trying to move yourself anywhere else.

Bloom where you are planted. Build in the area you’ve cleared out. Beauty will emerge from both spaces.

THE FAT ORANGE CAT: A charged sigil

A sigil is a symbol that is considered to have some kind of magical power; to me, that magical power can include something that is charged with meaning. For example, a rosary is charged with meaning because it is returned to over and over again in a specific context, that of prayer. Some sigils are charged societally, like the rosary, and others can be charged by you as a writer. If something shows up over and over again in your book when a particular emotion is being evoked—say, grief—then when it shows up, eventually, your reader will understand that it means grief.

The power of a sigil can be used in a meta-context—where something is a symbol to the reader—or an in-world context, where it is a symbol your characters are consciously using to access its meaning.

Either way, it’s powerful. Charge one, and use it. See what happens.

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THE TROPE: Found Family

I opened up a community thread this week just to see what happened, and boy howdy, did it happen! I asked for your favorite tropes and you came in with so many wonderful tropes from competence porn—a particular kink of mine—to the anti-redemption arc where a hero falls into darkness—I am absolutely going to talk about that soon—but by an overwhelming majority, the big winner was found family.

The found family trope is just what it sounds like; a group of people who aren't born to each other, but choose each other and bond until they are family. You see this kind of chosen community in pretty much every story that isn’t about a biological family. In the same way that every character with sentience and desire is coded human, every group of people that loves each other is coded as family. Every workplace comedy is a workplace family comedy. Every war movie is a soldier family movie.

We may love this trope so much because some of us grew up with families of origin that maybe didn’t understand us, or failed to love us outright. Found family in stories shows us what we found in our actual lives; that family are the people who catch you when you fall. Just because they didn’t show up until some years or decades after your birth doesn’t make them any less family.

THE QUESTION: Identity

“They say ‘a writer writes.’ But what if you haven’t written for a while? How long is it before I’m no longer a writer? I don’t think I’ve quit writing, but I’m not sure I can call myself a writer anymore.”

—I Yam What I Yam

Dear I Yam What I Yam,

I think there may be something deep inside our toxic cultural ideas of productivity that may be linked to mapping our identity to what we do, but that’s not the question you asked, so I’m not gonna go there. Just put that idea on a mental shelf in case you need it someday.

Whether you identify as a writer or not is really up to you. “A writer writes” was something that was originally making the rounds in writer culture to assuage those people who didn’t feel like they were “real” writers because they weren’t published yet. “A writer writes” means that if you write, you can call yourself a writer.

But what about if you used to write? By that yardstick, you can no longer call yourself a writer if you’re not actively writing… but what is actively writing, anyway? Writing is not just putting words on a page; it’s not typing or scratching words on a yellow pad. Writing is in your thoughts. If you drive to the grocery store and imagine a scene playing out in your head, you’re writing. If you watch a TV show and rework a story beat you didn’t like you’re writing.

Well, then, one might think, if that’s all it takes to be a writer, then aren’t we all writers?

Maybe we are. Maybe the point of identifying as something isn’t to make yourself stand out or be special, but just to be one step closer to knowing who you are. So what if everyone is a writer? That doesn’t have any impact on who you are.

Not unless you let it.

THE PRACTICAL: The Inner Light

I’m watching Star Trek: The Next Generation with my beloved and it’s been an interesting experience. For one, we’re not watching every episode; just the ones he says are the good ones. Two, I’m watching something precious to him with him, while sharing what’s precious to me in an alternating pattern (first we did Moonlighting; now we’re on to Northern Exposure). But also, there are times when we come across an episode where his fresh eyes will pick out something I didn’t previously see, and vice versa.

That’s what happened with the episode “The Inner Light.” This is a big episode, not just to Ian, but to lots of people. I’d heard about this episode from a lot of people; for many, it’s their favorite episode of TNG. So that’s a lot of importance going in.

We watched it.

I loved it.

And then… I thought about it.

Without spoiling anything in the story, because I really do recommend going into it unspoiled, let me just say that this is what I learned from watching this episode: A concept can be brilliant and also horribly, horribly flawed. Preserving a twist is not always worth the cost of preserving that twist. If you’re not sure, try imagining your story if you’re completely honest with your audience about everything up front.

In almost all circumstances, that will be a better version of that story.

I have a fix for “The Inner Light,” and I’m planning a YouTube video on it. Stay tuned.