Plotters plot and pansters fly by the seat of their pants. I have done both in many genres of writing, including both fiction and nonfiction, and let me tell you–I will never be a pantser.
I have found, over the last nearly three decades, that technology is a double-edged sword.
We have a thousand programs and applications meant to make our lives easier, but how often do those programs and applications end up simply taking the time we would otherwise use to complete those same projects or chores?
Most of my ‘real-world’ characters become amalgams of the people I know, faces and personalities, verbal ticks, cute quirks, a version of a real person that doesn’t exist in the real world.
One of the most exciting parts of finishing that novel is getting to write those two, little, lovely, wonderful words at the bottom of the last page.
I think there are times when a prologue is helpful and times when it isn’t, and I know not everyone agrees. That said, you’ll want to keep some things in mind when starting with a prologue.
For a blissful moment, all is silent. And then, as if the harpies of Hades have decided to torment the frustrated writer just a little bit longer, there is a scurry of nails. And another, until a full on squirrel orgy/disco/gladiator match is in swing in the rafters above my head.
Here’s what you need to know about being a writer. You have to get up. Because no matter how long it takes you, no matter how battle-weary you feel, no matter how many times you’ve cried this year, if you don’t get up, that’s game over.
Why do I write?
It was a simple question on the surface. Did I like telling stories? Did I like creating worlds? Did I like bringing characters to life? All of the above and a whole lot more.
Because my family doesn’t just put up with my writing, as they were forced to do all those years ago in Asbury Park. They are an invaluable aid in finding the very best story, character or setting possible.
The idea that we’ll never get the opportunity to produce our best work, that we’re wasting time, that we’re going to wake up one day and realize twenty years have passed and we’re still peddling in the same spot–that’s not exclusive to me.