Writing Differently for Fiction—An Exploration

For any serious writer, improving their craft is a never-ending desire. As one myself, I've picked up on some tips that I think many tend to overlook. Writers often stick to what they know, writing in one field until they master it. But really, I don't think that's how it should work. You learn more (and better) when trying out different things. The same goes for writing. 

You write better when you've tried writing different things. 

Words by Rich Mason

In this post, I'll be sharing some personal insight. I'm not a particularly wonderful writer, but I have been writing for nine years now. So, I like to think I've progressed quite a bit over the years, and that I'm credible as I write this. My advice covers different types/ forms of writing, but is given with novelists in mind.  

POETRY:

Even if you're not a poet, there's a lot to learn (and love) about poetry. As you try it out, you'll notice that you'll start focusing on word choice. Things like rhyme and rhythm start to matter a lot. You want your words to evoke emotion, imagery... something.

Poetry pushes you to break the rules of typical writing as you begin to learn how to paint with words. The more you write poetry, the more descriptive and aware you become of the "showing not telling" concept. In some ways, poetry is all about what you don't say as much as it's about what you do. 

Writing fiction is a lot like that, too. Novel readers need proper pacing, steady rhythm, and effective word choice to stay gripped in a story. So, poetry is a good place to start practicing. 

SCRIPTS: 

If I were to describe scriptwriting, I'd say it's an odd combination of poetry and prose. A script's layout looks a lot like a poem from a distance. Paragraphs of action are broken up by centered dialogue—and it has to flow and engage the viewer.

Like writing fiction, scriptwriting tells a story with basic elements of plot, character, and setting. Unlike novels, scripts are written for staff and actors. Not the audience. Descriptions can't be vivid and flowery. Action should be simple and direct—no insights into the character's thought process. What you get is what you see, so everything has to be clear and natural.

Scripts force a novelist to limit and filter the flowery prose, and get to the heart of the story. Each page is a minute onscreen—and no minute should be wasted. 

No page, either.

And that's a very important lesson for a writer. One that people easily overlook or undermine way too often. Scriptwriting helps a novelist understand how to link individual scenes into an action sequence. 

ARTICLES: 

Although it sounds completely unrelated, non-fiction writing is pretty instrumental to a novel. Voice is something that either makes or breaks a story. To better understand and "hear" a character's voice, the writer should be able to know their own. When writing articles, the writer has to overcome the distance between themselves and the reader—something main characters do all the time in prose.

It's also important to know when a voice is genuine and when it's being forced. Or, occasionally, borrowed from the author themselves. 

More than just voice, non-fiction teaches a novelist how to make prose interesting. Boring facts become interesting anecdotes or valuable information. This transformation isn't an easy one to master, but writing articles is a good way to start.

Ever tried writing a lead? In thirty words or less, you have to write an attention-grabbing first sentence. If you fail, then your entire article is deemed unworthy. That's a lot of pressure. But books work the same way, too. 

It's not easy, but it's definitely valuable. 

In General:

I used to consider all these different types of writing as ... well, different types of writing. But they share a lot in common—despite their differences. There's something in each form for any kind of writer. By trying them all out, a writer grows and is able to approach the task of writing with more tools at hand. It's just advice in the end, but I think it's worth more than cursory consideration.

After all, learning never ends. 

Novel Like Manga—Laying out Your Story

I'll be honest: I know nothing about drawing manga, but I do know a thing or two about writing. As a longstanding manga fan, I feel like I owe it to the industry to understand how it works. And while thinking about it, I discovered a lot of connections between manga and books—some similar, others admirably different.

Image by: Stuart Rankin

Manga is a unique storytelling platform—one that relies on art instead of prose. Like any fictional story, good manga has to have an established setting, a developed plot, and relatable characters. But the added element of "art" changes the playing field. In order to maintain the important concept of "pacing," mangakas (Japanese manga artists) lay out their art through a carefully planned out process: panelling.

Typically read from right to left (up then down), manga forces readers to reconfigure their reading habits. In my case, it helped me learn that the way things are placed changes how they're perceived. The pages of a manga usually include different paneling styles and dialogue breaks—all of which are placed so that the "story flow" can grow naturally. And in good manga, it does.

Manga vs. Novel: 

In writing, the illusion of passing time is done through paragraph breaks. But manga expresses time through panels—the ultimate foundation of its pacing. By using long panels, mangakas are able to "draw out" an instance and give readers a better chance to fully take in the moment. Consequently, shorter and smaller panels make time pass faster in a manga—the eye doesn't linger nearly as long. Because there is no art in (most) novels, novelists do this by carefully crafting short paragraphs and standalone sentences. And while they might be read quickly, these short text breaks create a stronger impression of a defining moment.

Sample Manga Page Image by: Kasuga

Panel layout and design are instrumental to a story's flow, making variety an important concept. I've never realised before looking into it, but different manga genres can even have different panel templates that get used more often in one genre than the other. In a way, manga becomes a lot like film—with frames and shots getting produced by the mangaka's art instead of a director's vision. But the challenge with manga is that you can't feel and hear the dialogue the way you do in a film.

Sure, you have visuals to fill in the context for the actual text, but structure is just as important. So in addition to using longer panels, mangakas strategically transition between panels to include more intricate details. And a well-designed, well-placed dialogue bubble is one of the ways that does this best. There's interaction happening in between the panels—the same way that prose and dialogue interact in between the lines. This level of cohesion reminds me just how important it is that every scene has a purpose and a reason for being.

Mangakas have to visualise the flow of each page to control how readers go through the panels (essentially, the story)—and that's something I believe all novelists can benefit from doing.

Image by: Neitram

There may not be any art to direct, but basic text serves the same purpose. Focus on the scenes of your story and visualise how dialogue connects with prose on a micro level. It's hard work, but the payoff is definitely worth it. Think of the lined pages as panels and see how different your writing becomes. Experiment with dialogue as if it's in a bubble instead of quotes. Envision a blank page as a panel template sheet, and see how you'd fill it up.

Every medium has its different approach to storytelling ... but in the end, it's still telling a story. When getting stuck in a scene, a lot of writers suggest changing approaches by using a different character, a different point of view—a different story element. But what if, instead, you use a different format?

It could all be done in your head, by using the power of imagination if art isn't exactly your forte. The idea is to play with something new, to start "noveling" in an innovative way that might actually help better lay out your story.

Extra sources:

If you want to find out more about manga layout and what actually goes on behind the pages in more detail, then check out this post on Panelling, Pacing, & Layout in Comics & Manga #1 and #2 (written by an actual professional who knows what they're doing).

NaNoWriMo Tips from Someone Who Won and Lost

November is upon us once again, and that means another year of NaNoWriMo is underway. As someone who both won and lost the write-a novel-in-just-a-month challenge, I feel entitled to share some words of wisdom. Mainly, ones that came out of anything but wisdom—technically words inspired by a long chain of trials and errors. So, here I'm sharing the top five things I've painstakingly discovered along the way so you don't have to:

1. Know the Kind of Writer You Are

It took me years, and two NaNoWriMo challenges, to finally figure out how I write—or rather, how I write well. Think of NaNoWriMo as a science writing experiment. There's lots of hypothesising. Lots of testing and observing results. Lots of time needed to form conclusions. And NaNoWriMo is the perfect opportunity to do all of it. Example: are you a planner or a pantser? You can figure it out by putting both to the test. 

Now, I'm not a planner—far from it since I procrastinate my way through life. But I'm beginning to discover that I'm a "writer who plans." I would have never known this had I not forced myself to actually plan this year's story. After five straight hours of story developing and facing my plot issues, I finally came up with an outline that was more than a few sentences and some margin doodles. It may not sound like a big deal, but this outline (I'm hoping) would help me sculpt my story into something formidable. So that next time, when someone says they would love to read the novel they just found out I wrote, I wouldn't have to reply with a panicked "Um, no. You really don't."

Also, don't be afraid to try out new things. You might discover that writing in third person works best for you (or the story) instead of your preferred first person. You might change tenses before settling on what you decide you're comfortable with. You might even find a better hidden story within the one you're currently writing. Whatever it is, NaNoWriMo gives you the chance to discover your style—all you have to do is track your changes for future revision. 

2. Do Some Recon Work

It sounds like military tactics, but doing some reconnaissance definitely helps in writing, too. Read what others write and listen to what those around you have to say. Be open to new ideas, and actively seek them out. Inspiration is like an urban legend—don't fall into believing it happens to everyone all the time (like I did). Instead of waiting for it, go lurk around enemy search engines and start researching. Your findings will ultimately count as necessary intel as soon as you start your writing mission. They will help you establish the right atmosphere for your characters and even for yourself.

My first NaNo story was a 100% pantser-creation. I went in blind, barely knowing how my setting worked and how my characters behaved. I figured it would all come together on the page. It didn't, and I had to improvise a lot of eyebrow-raising scenes. But since I reached the desired 50K, I didn't mind much. It gave me the confidence I needed as a "successful" novelist. And so, I recycled my methods for my second NaNo story... which did not work out so well for me. That was when I realised why soldiers do recon work—and a lot of it. In November, you're not just a writer. You're also a soldier (of wordwars instead of the actual kind). 

3. Do Not Lose Momentum

This one sounds simple, but is probably the hardest step of all. NaNoWriMo is a writer's marathon, and a writer who takes a day off is akin to a runner who stops running. It can get hard to continue running in top shape after a long break leaves muscles inactive. Same with writing. That is why warming up your "Writing Muscles" before NaNoWriMo really helps with getting a head start and an early practice. Runners do these warm-ups to avoid pulling a muscle—which, for writers, is equivalent to the dreaded Writer's Block.

An accurate depiction that I can't help but keep sharing 

But that doesn't mean that writing should take over your life in November. Set a habit or a system that works for you—a daily word limit, a magic hour, or simply just coffee. My personal one is aiming for 2000 words a day. It might sound like a lot, but I would push for at least 500 words in really tough times. I try not to skip a day because even if I could afford the word gap, it will live to mock me the next morning. Like chess pawns that reach the opposite end, these 500 words are game changers for me. They give me the strength to sort of "honor" the effort I made by making up for the resulting gap with renewed drive. Even if it sounds stressful, trust me, it's so much better than skipping a day of writing. At least you wouldn't also lose your momentum. 

My second NaNo story was a failure because I turned into a backslider. My word count kept decreasing, and I kept getting demotivated until I eventually stopped writing. I realised I was going no where, and just gave up because I lost that push to get something done. One good way to avoid becoming a cautionary tale like me is to "always end a writing session only when you know what's next" (—S.B. Roberts in an article by Jessica Strawser). I'm following that advice this year, and it's been working so far. 

4. Foster Support

Because science and the questionable food industry managed to trap energy into drinkable cans, it no longer becomes an issue of great concern. Besides, there's always coffee as extra fuel. But motivation isn't as simply cured. Having a network of equally frustrated yet inspiring writers though, makes a big difference. People are great motivators, and fostering that sense of community goes a long way towards a sustainable writing future. Even if you're not joining the traditional NaNo challenge, take advantage of the productive atmosphere. Drink up the November spirit—it only comes once a year. Why not even use it for your own personal projects?

If you can't find a community, then make one. Help writers gather together and bounce ideas or, better yet, writing anecdotes. Join write-ins or chat rooms, and interact with both budding and veteran writers—they both offer something new to learn from. Who knows, you might even make lifelong friendships. At first, my NaNoWriMo experience was daunting, but getting to know the writers in my region and arranging for meetings and write-ins literally became the highlight of my NaNo lifestyle. Remember that even though November ends, writing doesn't. 

So take this chance to build something long-lasting. 

5. Have Fun 

For many of us, writing is a hobby. For others, it's an occupation. Whatever it may be, writing is something we choose to do because we (most likely) enjoy it. NaNoWriMo shouldn't be an overwhelming challenge, but a fun experience. Don't get too caught up in tracking word counts, but remember the reason you started in the first place. It's easy to get caught up on the "what," but it's more worthwhile to remember the "why." 

If, as the creator, you can't get excited over your own story... then chances are that prospective readers wouldn't either. Don't try to enjoy writing, but actually do. Listen to music and jam out mid-writing session. Carve out intervals between long writing periods for a fun activity of your choice. Or come up with something entirely different and refreshing. If for some reason you still can't enjoy writing, then that's an early sign for you to tweak some concepts or test out a new story altogether. 

When I was writing my second NaNo novel, every chapter felt like a life sentence where time behind bars somehow evolved into words on a page. I loved my idea and I adored my characters—but it wasn't enough. Writing their story just didn't "click" for me. I realize now that I was too overwhelmed and, more frighteningly, falling out of love with writing. After some much-needed time off and a revived need to write (that I doubt ever went away), I'm making my comeback. 

Finally... 

Do what you want to do. You can listen to these tips or choose to ignore them—maybe even make your own. Whatever the case, do what feels right for you. And always: Happy Writing!

Writing Law: Negative Space is Positive Space

Starting things has never been my strong suit. If I'm being honest, starting things is scary because there's so much pressure—unspoken words, curious readers, anticipated feedback—that it becomes overwhelming. And because of that, I am a constant victim of Writer's Block.

Whenever I ask about writer's block and how to cure it, I always get the same answer: "just keep writing." It's easier said than done, and honestly, incredibly unhelpful. The whole point of writer's block is that you're unable to write anything; ergo, it's an invalid answer. So I thought about it and decided to make my own cure.

1. Be your character (aka become an actor) 

    -What's your reaction?

    -Do characters develop?
    -Are characters stand-alone/ self-actualized?

2. Be your reader (aka become a bystander) 

    -Is this realistic?

    -Is this exaggerated?

    -Can the readers relate?

3. Be the creator (aka become a thief) 

    -Get inspiration from your surroundings
    -Create the world, action, and characters
    -Create, create, create

Blank pages are threatening. They're every artist's worst nightmare. But recently, after speaking with a fellow painter about art and its creation, I realised not all blank pages are bad. Blank pages, or what she refers to as "negative space," is actually liberating.

"I like to imagine it being light or something visceral," she said. And really, that's what art is all about—seeing something that isn't really there. Instead of seeing the blank canvas or page, imagine the story you want to write or draw, and then simply "trace" it. Because really, the negative space you're staring at is teeming with your imagination.

You just can't see it yet.