Showing posts with label children's creative writing. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children's creative writing. Show all posts

Thursday, 12 January 2023

Removing the scaffolding

There’s a lot of clanging and smashing and banging going on in my laptop right now. Metaphorically speaking. I’m in the throes of removing my scaffolding. Peeling away the bridges and links and downright waffle I layer in to help me grow my story.

I can’t remember which well-known author coined the idea of the scaffolding phase of editing, but it’s stuck with me. The process of revising a first draft – for me – is just that, akin to taking the scaffolding down after a big build job, ready to unveil the result.

And it’s got me thinking, what constitutes scaffolding and why is it useful? 

What is it? Well, for me it might often include…

  • the tell not show; the intent of a character or dramatic action to get you to the next point of the story
  • the overtelling – more information about motivation or emotion than the reader needs to know, but you need to remember
  • ‘the other’ – the other path or reaction your character could have taken, but didn’t
  • a character who is no longer necessary – a conduit for the narrative whose purpose is now defunct (sorry, Conor)
  • too many words – a focus on driving through with story rather than being mindful of language

And why is it useful? Why not trim as I go, take each page and paint and polish it before moving on? For me, I find creation is a process I have to lean into or else it might not happen. It never appears from the first page, but slowly emerges. So while it might be a strategy to work more precisely and carefully and edit as I go (a simple ladder rather than full on poles and planks), I do fear the idea might not then fully form. My focus might get distracted by presentation and prose and curtail the process of story making. 

So I heave up the scaffolding from the first chapter, obscuring the true look and feel of the story beneath its clumsy façade. But heck, it makes me love the moment when it comes off – when I can start to see the final work, the big reveal when the props are taken away.

As to the scaffolding, I keep every bit. My mantra in life, it might come back in fashion, is also applied to my writing; I dread throwing anything away. So I keep a 'scaffolding' document that often, quite alarmingly, ends up being as long as the manuscript itself. Small parts of it can come in useful, once in a blue moon (similarly, the fashion comeback; ahem, flares are back).

The scary thing, of course, is you often have no idea what the end result will look like until all the scaffolding is off. Until you can stand back and read the story in full again. It is a risk. Especially if your deadline is in three weeks’ time. But fingers crossed for something like... (😉)


Alex Cotter’s middle-grade novels THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE and THE MERMAID CALL are published with Nosy Crow. She has also previously published YA novels as Alex Campbell. Find her at www.alexcotter.co.uk or on Twitter: @AlexFCotter


Sunday, 16 October 2022

Trust in the process

I hit a writing wall a few weeks ago. A tall, solid, Gandalf-You-shall-not-pass, wall. It's due to the writing of my current MG novel, with a deadline that seemed far away a month ago - and lately has begun to loom like a gigantic shadow monster. I thought I knew where I was going with the story after some careful plotting over summer, and then: Gandalf. 


A timely night out with a good friend, where I was desperately bemoaning my brick-wall predicament, and she reminded me of some wise words - which have since seen me through: "Just trust in the process".

Oh, how I needed this reminder. I find I can all too quickly feel "A failure!" and "Doomed to mediocrity!" when I become suddenly stuck in my narrative; if I can't unlock the what-needs-to-happen-next to achieve the story that's clear in my head yet refuses to be put down on paper. "That's it" I will dramatically wail, "I'm not good enough to write it!" 

Unlocking the next

To remember there is a process - and one that sometimes can't be hurried yet is often integral to storytelling - was just what I needed to hear ... to become unstuck.

To trust in the process - and gradually over time and with work, hopefully doors will become unlocked and walls will come down and the narrative will flow again. 

To enable the process - and it will almost certainly and naturally evolve the story in your head onto the what's next. 

On reflection, my trusting in the process has included:

  • Plotting
Return to the beginning and brainstorm the structural ideas again. Even if you're going over old ground, get it down on paper again; draw diagrams, pictures, maps. Relook at your blueprint for your novel and if there are other, stronger ideas that need to be generated, they might begin to emerge through this process.
  • Writing
Plotting is all well and good, but often the real magic starts when you write, when you're inhabiting the minds and lives of your characters. Facing the story as they face it will gradually enable a process of ideas and pathways that are still yet to show themselves.

  • Editing
Like weeding an overgrown garden, as you go through the book turfing out ideas that clutter and clog the story arc, you can see more clearly the ideas that do work and give them space to shine.

  • Time out

Taking time to step away from the story can be part of the process too. Reading other books - all kinds of books - for inspiration; walking, talking, dancing - life outside of the laptop. I often find I become unstuck if I just have a swim, or a cheeky night out...

I suppose, as life in itself is a process, our brains need this time to consider and evaluate, the space to assemble and revise choices, an evolution to recognise the raw truth of the story. And by trusting in the natural creative process - rather than headless chicken panicking - last week I finally managed to bypass Gandalf and his staff for sunnier open meadows and - for now - I think I know where my narrative is going. Still doesn't stop that deadline looming though...!

Alex Cotter’s middle-grade novels THE HOUSE ON THE EDGE and THE MERMAID CALL are published with Nosy Crow. She has also previously published YA novels as Alex Campbell. Find her at www.alexcotter.co.uk or on Twitter: @AlexFCotter

Tuesday, 5 March 2019

Getting inspired... by myself aged six - Alex English

At a recent writing for children workshop, we were invited to think about ourselves aged six. What did we like? Who were we friends with? What did we read? What happened in the world that year (I had to look this up on wikipedia)? Which of these events had an impact on us?

It was a very enlightening exercise, but for some of the questions I found it difficult to remember. I was a huge bookworm as a child, but I had phases of reading Blyton adventures, horse stories, school stories (The Chalet School and Trebizon series were huge favourites at various points in time), sci-fi, and all sorts of others. Trying to remember which books came when was tricky.

Fortunately, my mum had kept all my writing books from school. They made enlightening reading and it was inspiring to get back into my own head circa 1980-something.


You could perhaps have predicted that I was going to make a picture book author by reading my first piece of published writing, aged five, complete with Pop! Bang! Whizz! 

I love the fact that the school magazine was typed on an actual typewriter and photocopied. The line-breaks also make this little tale strangely poetic. 


I read the whole magazine from cover to cover and found lots of little gems like this one above. It was a great way to get back to thinking like a child. A boot getting sucked off in the mud! What a story.


I'd forgotten those hairbands with windmills that go round. Love the last line. I'm never one for a completely happy ending.


Getting older now, I think I was six or seven when I came up with this cracker of an inciting incident. Suddenly a flying saucer landed in the garden! Wicked aunties featured in my stories heavily circa 1986. As did Sarah W, best friend of the moment.


My favourite foods haven't changed much since age six. Fish and chips is a solid choice, plus who doesn't love ice cream with sliced strawberries?



Once upon a time there was (sic) four children and their names were Edmund, Lucy, Peter and Susan.... 

Hmm, this story sounds somewhat familiar. I can vividly remember picking The Lion, The Witch and The Wardrobe from the school library at the end of term, and from this excerpt it seems that I got hooked on C.S.Lewis around age six. Interesting to note that I thought the Pevensies went to stay with the professor during their summer holidays, rather than being Blitz evacuees.


"A punk has colourful hair. She goes to the disco every day." 



I have no memory whatsoever of Prince Andrew and Sarah Ferguson's wedding. However it obviously had enough impact on me aged six to inspire the names for two gerbils in this story!

Do you ever re-read your childhood writing? Maybe you should give it a try, I really found it helped me tap into young me and gave me lots of ideas in the process.

Alex English is a graduate of Bath Spa University's MA Writing for Young People. Her picture books Yuck said the Yak, Pirates Don't Drive Diggers and Mine Mine Mine said the Porcupine are published by Maverick Arts Publishing and she has more forthcoming from Bloomsbury and Faber & Faber.
www.alexenglish.co.uk




Tuesday, 15 January 2019

To begin at the beginning, wherever that is - by Rowena House


Where to start teaching creative writing in schools and colleges? It’s a question I know many writers in the ABBA community have answered in their own professional lives, and I’d love to hear your advice.

Me, I waver between starting with character or conflict + change, although recently I’ve plumped for all three at once. Is place next or endings? Rising tension? Voice or structure? Great openings from published books?

Years ago, a trainer on an author schools’ visit programme urged us to model ‘excellence’ first, and then to work backwards from there, which was all very well except that the model he used to illustrate his point was far from excellent, according to professional writing standards.

Ever since then I’ve worried that I might do more harm than good by enthusing about turning points and climactic choices between ‘irreconcilable goods’ etc. if that’s not what schools, colleges and exam boards want students to learn.
 
 

Overcoming these doubts just became rather urgent since (I’m delighted to say) Authors Abroad have now added me to their stable of writers who offer talks and workshops to schools. Hurrah!

Fortunately, this year I’m also training to lecture on fiction prose writing at FE level, so I have the luxury of an academic framework within which to research the issues and practice teaching under expert guidance.

As a learner, I know I have a top-down bias, preferring to see the big picture first and details later. This, broadly, should fit with the ‘model first, work backwards’ approach, which, I now discover, has deep theoretical roots.

Bath Spa’s amazing MA in writing for young people also taught me the immeasurable value of mind maps as a way to avoid linear thinking at too early a stage in a story’s development, so I’m hoping to adapt and adopt non-linear teaching techniques also.
 
 

First, though, I’m honing a ‘commercial’ fiction scene in order to model structure. It’s got a lead character with a defined goal, an antagonist with a diametrically opposed goal, conflict between the two, a turning point and a resolution. All in 275 words!

It favours implicit clues rather than explicit descriptions to draw the reader through the plot, relying on our innate human desire to read between the lines and solve a puzzle.

[In the past, I’ve been impressed how quickly students of any age zoom in on the turning point of a scene, and work out which character ‘won’ and which ‘lost’ from the slenderest of clues - a skill my favourite screenplay-writing gurus would attribute to our collective understanding of story, born originally of universal oral storytelling traditions and reinforced time and again in books, TV and film.]

How far this approach is adaptable to the exigencies of an examined curriculum I don’t yet know, but I’m keen to explore opportunities to guide students through the basics of structure, rather than trying to teach them something that many will already know, albeit subconsciously.

Another thing I’d like to borrow straight out of the commercial publishing world is this definition of story, first introduced to me by author, editor and mentor extraordinaire, Beverley Birch:

            Story = a character changing through conflict.

Some writers I know bridle at the apparent over-simplification of this definition, including people who love classical literature. But for me, as a working writer, it helps scale storytelling down to size.

“Changing a character through conflict” is do-able. It’s a solid platform from which to launch a story idea, and one which I think might give confidence to student writers who are just starting out.

Embracing this definition also paved the way for my greatest writing eureka moment to date when I read that plot and character are two sides of the same coin: after the inciting incident, plot is simply what happens as a result of the decisions, actions and reactions of the protagonist.

Before that epiphany I had plotted.

And plotted.

I’d twisted and turned my poor protagonist into ever more hazardous predicaments. But always I put her there. She didn’t have agency.

Understanding that she absolutely had to have agency at every major point in the story led, logically, to telling her story from inside her head, a fresh starting point which, ultimately, got me published.

I suppose what I’m saying, or at least seem to be saying as I write this post, is that there is no single ideal starting point. It all dovetails. Somehow. Hopefully. Perhaps all I can hope to do is present the practical benefits of different approaches to writing fiction with passion and honesty.

Am I in danger of extrapolating too much from personal experience? Possibly. Is it unrealistic to expect similar epiphanies to give joy to students of whatever age? Probably. I do know that I have a great deal to learn about learning, and have increasing respect for full-time teachers. How on earth do they do it?

As a writer, I hope - and deep down believe - that the tradecraft of writing fiction for mainstream publication will prove helpful in deciding what to teach in schools and colleges - if not how to do it!

What do you reckon, people? All and any tips gratefully received.

Twitter @houserowena



 

Saturday, 20 May 2017

Rubbing Out Erasers - Joan Lennon

There are plenty of things* that irritate the socks off me when I go into schools to run creative writing workshops, and I'm sure I'm not alone in that!  But the object of my ire today is small and soft and, to all appearances, benign.  Also evil.


Yes, I'm talking about erasers.  They are a bane, and I ban them.

In the UK, primary school pupils use pencils, a fact which has irritations of its own.  When I first started doing workshops in primary schools, I would get the children all enthused and ready to write - straining at the leash - set them off, and then have to wait while 3/4 of the class decided to sharpen their pencil using one of 2 functioning sharpeners on offer.  And then, when they did finally get writing, it would be write a word, write another word, write a third word, and then spend 5 minutes rubbing the second word out.  Completely out.  Utterly obliterated.  So rubbed out that resurrection of any sort or variety was impossible.  That word was dead and gone.

Now I try to head this off at the pass.  Before they begin.  "Never rub anything out," I say.  "If you think a word or a sentence isn't right, just draw a line through it and move on.  Keep going.  You never know - you might look back and decide that that word was perfect after all."  So no erasers.  No rubbing out.

It's a hard thing to learn, when reaching for the rubber is your default editing tool.  But I have no mercy.  If I hear that irritating shuckashuckashuckashucka sound, I pounce like a harpy avenging angel pouncey thing.

Of course I'm willing to admit that an eraser is a clever little invention, and that it has its uses.  Lots of uses.  

Just keep it away from my workshops!  




If there are other rubber revilers out there, please know that you are not alone.  And one day, maybe, we shall prevail.



* for example, tables, about which I rant here


(images from Wikicommons)


Joan Lennon's website.
Joan Lennon's blog.
Silver Skin.

Wednesday, 15 February 2017

Eureka! Nailing epiphanies – by Rowena House


I’d planned to start this blog by diving straight into the Big Five personality traits – openness, conscientiousness, extraversion, agreeableness & neuroticism (acronym: OCEAN) – and extoll their virtues as the best tools ever for crafting character arcs.
But during a FB discussion about the Big Five earlier this month for WriteOnCon (an online conference well worth catching next time, btw) I remembered why I’d found them so helpful when redrafting my debut novel:
OCEAN had nailed the problem of how to make an epiphany work.
 
The anatomy of epiphanies had bugged me ever since James Scott Bell’s Writing Your Novel From The Middle persuaded me that a Midpoint Epiphany was a great plotting device. John Yorke’s Into the Woods expands on them at length, but story structure alone wasn’t enough to make mine seem ‘organic’ so I turned to psychology for help.

The Big Five
After millennia of debate about how many aspects there are to human personality, current psychology has (broadly) settled on five categories: openness to new experiences, conscientiousness in fulfilling a task, the multiple facets of extraversion plus all the variations of agreeableness & neuroticism.
Taken together, they express the myriad permutations of personality.
These categories aren’t binary. People aren’t Open or Not Open. Each is a sliding scale from more to less, and encapsulates aspects of personality that tend to go together.
For example, being sociable, talkative & assertive are manifestations of extraversion, while being systematically late, lax and indifferent indicate a low level of conscientiousness.
Under sufficient stress these traits are mutable, evolving in response to major life events – events so important they make us step up to the mark and decide what we’re prepared to do to achieve our greatest ambitions or defend that which we hold most dear.
 
Which seems to me a reasonable description of a character-based plot.
 
There’s loads of stuff about OCEAN on the web if you’re interested (and a bunch of online tests if you don’t mind some random organisation knowing who you are) but here’s a quick summary of each for ease of reference.
 

OCEAN definitions
Factors associated with openness include curiosity, original thinking, insight & creativity, openness to new & unusual ideas. Appreciation for art, emotion, adventure, unusual ideas. Those high in this trait also tend to have a broad range of interests.

Examples of low-score behaviour
Examples of high-score behaviour
Someone who prefers not to be exposed to alternative moral systems, has limited interests, down-to-earth attitudes, non-analytical, narrow-minded.
Enjoy seeing people with new types of haircut, body piercing, curious, imaginative, non-traditional.

 

Conscientiousness: being organised, systematic, punctual, achievement-orientated, dependable. High levels of thoughtfulness, good impulse control, goal-driven. Tendency to be mindful of details.
 

Low score
High score
Spur-of-the-minute decision-making,  unreliable, hedonistic, careless, lax
Never late, hardworking, persevering, punctual, self-disciplined, dutiful.

 
Extraversion: outgoing, talkative, sociable, high energy, positive emotions, urgency, a tendency to seek stimulation and the company of others. Extraversion is the factor most strongly associated with leadership.


Low score
High score
Prefers a quiet evening in, reading rather than parties, sober, aloof, unenthusiastic
Life of the party, active, optimistic, taking charge,

 
Agreeableness: being affable, tolerant, sensitive, trusting, kind & warm. A tendency to be compassionate and cooperative rather than suspicious and antagonistic. Weakly related to leadership.


Low score
High score
Quick to assert own rights with confidence; irritable, manipulative, uncooperative, rude.
Agrees with other’s opinions, good-natured, forgiving, gullible, helpful


Neuroticism: tendency to be anxious, irritable, temperamental, moody. Inclined to experience unpleasant emotions easily, including anger, depression or vulnerability. Sometimes called emotional instability. Tendency towards sadness.

Low score
High score
Not getting irritated by small annoyances, calm, unemotional, hardy, secure, self-satisfied.
Constantly worrying about little things, insecure, hypochondriac, feeling inadequate.

 
Constructing a basic profile incorporating these traits seems to me a more efficient way to create realistic, rounded characters than answering one of those long questionnaires about the colour of their favourite t-shirt & TV shows they watched as kids etc.
Better by far (imho) to know how open they are to new experiences or if they’re vulnerable and anxious.  Not only will this knowledge signpost how a character is likely to react to unexpected events but also what actions they might plausibly initiate at each stage in their emotional/psychological journey.
And once you know their deepest, repressed fears, you can merrily create the kind of obstacles which will test their underlying weaknesses to the utmost.
Think Snakes On A Plane. Who’d give the air marshal in that film a phobia about spiders?

Retrofitting character arcs
For me, OCEAN really came into its own when I had to rework a First World War coming-of-age script after receiving a development advance from Walker Children’s Books. The elements I needed were already in the backstory; I just hadn’t developed them enough.
 
So, in the rewrite, I took my protagonist step-by-step to a more mature place, one where she could – plausibly – reverse her deepest feelings about members of her family.
Spoiler alert: the worked example below is based on an Openness subplot of this novel, which will be out with Walker next year. (Hurrah!) I hope it’s detailed enough to make sense without giving too much of the plot away.
 

Act 1
 
 
 
1
 
Pre-story trait to be transformed
Stubborn loathing of family member X (a soldier killed in the Battle of Verdun).
2
Initial openness behaviour
Down-to-earth, non-analytical, limited life experience, defensive about her opinions of her family
 
3
OCEAN traits permitting transformation
Openness: a vivid imagination
Agreeableness: capacities for empathy & kindness
 
4
OCEAN traits preventing transformation
Openness: refusal to accept alternative points of views about her brother
Neuroticism: an unconscious desire for a substitute father
 
Act 2
 
 
 
5
Transitional behaviour
Aroused curiosity about the outside world as she starts her journey; fails first test by focusing narrowly on her quest rather than the suffering of others
 
6
Pre-epiphany behaviour
Forced to consider profiteer’s point of view, forced to consider strikers’ PoV; forced to consider the suffering that led to ex-soldier Y’s disabilities.
 
7
MIDPOINT EPIPHANY
While assimilating her feelings about Y, she recognises the narrow self-interest that prompted her quest, but remains resistant to re-examining her feelings about X
 
8
Post-epiphany behaviour
Being more open, she observes the world more closely, leading to true empathy for others.
 
Act 3
 
 
 
9
Completion of consequences of EPIPHANY
On eve of the ‘final battle’, makes her peace with X
 
10
Final Openness state
In epilogue, evidence of new open attitude to disabled soldiers


 
 

 
Twitter handle: @HouseRowena