lori sizemore

I found myself without a material girl post for today, so I decided to go to my Amazon wishlist. Too much time spent on Halloween costumes and planning for Christmas, I suppose, has left the spotlight, and the finances, decidedly off of me.

But, my trusty wishlist didn’t let me down. Behold, the external hard drive. USB connection (means it’s easy to hook up), requires no external power source (powered by your computer, one less plug for you to have to find a spot for), Google software for searching the files (who doesn’t love Google?), good for Mac or PC.

If you have ever lost the last quarter of something you’re working on because you didn’t get around to backing it up or burnt it to a cd only to find out the cd is corrupted, then you need this baby.

I’m gonna get one…

I am going to share with you my greatest writing tool, the thing that keeps me sane in the crazy made-up world in my head.  Behold, the Scene Tracker.  (Please note: This is an excel file.  It was virus free when it left my computer, but because I don’t want any mean emails, etc., you are downloading at your own risk, I make no guarantees as to how it will affect your computer).

Now that I’ve scared the crap out of you and you probably wouldn’t download it if I paid you, we’ll discuss it’s merits.  Here is an actual image of mine from my finished novel.

You can just click it to get a nice full size view.

In the first column, you’ll see that I divided my scenes into chapters.  I didn’t do this at first, I did it later, as I looked them over.  I think that in the future, I’ll be writing with the chapter endings in mind, so I can be sure they end with page turning material.  But, whatever works for you.

In the second column, I’ve done two things.  First, I’ve divided the book up into Acts (I guess that was actually done on different rows as opposed to columns, but let’s keep going.)  I’ve also numbered each scene as they occur in the act.  You’ll notice that scene 9 is greyed out.  I did that because I was considering (and did) taking the scene out.  By being able to see my story as a whole on this spreadsheet, it became clear that the scene served no purpose and this character didn’t really need a POV.  Ever.  So, if my scene tracker did nothing else for me, that alone would’ve made it worth it.

Okay, next column: the timeline.  I didn’t think, at first, this would matter.  And then I realized that in the beginning of this story, Act I takes place over a week.  And my week?  Had 8 days.  That’s why I created this spreadsheet, to help me keep track of what happened, when.  Later on, when I needed my character to make reference, I could easily go back and see that event had happened two weeks prior.  You may think you will remember this… but you won’t.  Because it’s been a month or six for you, or maybe just two days, but it probably wasn’t two weeks.

The next column gives a brief description of what action takes place in the scene.  Generally, when I’m writing, I make four folders and name them for each of the acts.  Each scene is it’s own file in the respective folder, so the third scene was named: scene 3 justine tells mom.doc.  It keeps them in order in the folder and lets me know at a glance what the scene is about.  Sure, it’s cryptic to you, but I know exactly what she’s telling her.  I just need a little jab to the memory.

Skip two columns over where the page count for the scene is listed.  If you look all the way down to Row 22 of that column, you’ll see that Excel did my math for me.  I know how long my first act is now.  It’s a bit over my target (at least 15 pages, yikes), in fact, so I know with just a look, I’m going to have to cut.

After that: Chapter length.  This formula isn’t built in because it depends on how many scenes are in your first chapter, or second.  But it’s still fairly simple, even if you want to do the math yourself.  For me, a chapter goal is about 20 to 30 pages.  Your mileage may vary, but the point is, when I go to cut, I can look at this and see where I got a little wordy or if maybe I need to reorganize how I divided my chapters.

The next is self-explanatory: whose POV is the scene in.  Next to that, the number of pages each character is getting, as a whole.  I’m not a head hopper, but I do know who my hero and heroine are and who my secondary characters that are getting page time are, and I know a secondary character shouldn’t be getting more and I’d like my hero/heroine to be close to even.  Again, it’s right there, at my fingertips.  I’ve compiled the information as I wrote.  This formula is also not included in the above file for similar reasons–it’ll be different for every story.

The next column isn’t on this picture, I added it to my blank template, the one you’re getting.  Emotional Arc.  The fourth column tells the action.  This column tells the emotional outcome/events of the scene.

Finally, my notes for editing.  I highlighted in column K each day so I’d know what I’d done in my first round of editing and the  notes tell me what is yet to be done.  I can also make a note, like, “Did the necklace come up again anywhere?” (if not, I take it out), or “Mention the number of suitcases,” because I know later, it’s going to be noticed by someone else.

At the very bottom, not pictured here, is the total page count for my novel.  Another perk is that I want my acts to get shorter, so Act 1 should have more scenes than Act 2.  And I can see that it does.

That is the Scene Tracker I’ve created, which you are more than free to use if you believe it would help you.  I hate to pull a Dawn–inside joke, sorry–but don’t redistribute this or repost it anywhere else.  Link back to the post, please. (Just click the title, then copy and paste from the address bar).

I don’t think I can actually describe how much I love these.  I wish I could.  Books.  Books.  That float.  On my wall.  Just waiting for me.  Pinch me.

I’m so getting some of these.  Seriously, time me.

At Libba Bray, which with that name is already wittier than I will ever be, this amusing, and too true for comfort comparison to writing and falling in love.

Thanks for meeting me here. Look, I’m just gonna come out with it. This–you, me–it’s not working. I’m sorry. It’s not you, it’s…actually it’s you. You’re stupid. And I sort of hate you. But, you know, thanks for the great line on p. 400.

This?  This is me.  Right now.

I thought that, just to do something different, keep things fun!, I’d write about something that I actually can do, rather than whining about what I can’t.  I know, crazy ideas, I’m full of them.

I believe that as writers, even when we start writing the first words, the conception of our writing career, we all have pieces of craft that come naturally to us.  Maybe, for someone witty, it’s dialogue.  For the anal person, it may be structure or outlining.  For the introspective, perhaps it’s dishing out emotional punch.  Either way, our personalities and experiences come with us to the computer, and one or two things, we don’t have to bleed for.  It’s like when you’re in high school, and you guess the next song to come on the radio, and you think, “Awesome.  How’d I do that?”

Well, it doesn’t matter how.  You got mad skillz, baby.  Unfortunately for you and me both, staying on focus is not mine.  To the point: structure.

I got mad structuring skillz.  Or the potential for them.  Whatever.  And the entry actually begins…here.

When I write, I know I will have four turning points.  Big, important, can’t-turn-back-now scenes that change the course of the story for the main characters (for all of them, really).  It’s like mini-stories.  They’re that big of a deal, because they end one act, and begin another.  I also know that each act will get shorter, to increase pacing. I have a number in my head, and I actually tend to write over that, but I also know I tend to overwrite anyway, so cutting about 10% usually puts me back on track.  If my turning point doesn’t fall in that, if it happens sooner, then I know it’s not my turning point.  It’s an important scene, and it’ll only make the story better, but it’s not my turning point.  Never write filler to make sure your first turning point is, say 30k words.  Just don’t.  Filler is bad.  It’s the junk food of writing.

Most of this I know thanks to Jennifer Crusie and Bob Meyer (though you can’t read it now, they’ve taken it down and are writing a book I am sure will be most awesome and I am totally going to purchase).  But I also noticed that it was something I did naturally.

When I start a story, I figure out pretty quick what that first turning point is going to be and where the plot (and subplots) will have to get to for it to happen.  I’m a pantsy plotter.  That also sets me down the road of “What happens next?”  Well, the whole world just turned on it’s side–for good or bad, or both–and people (characters) are going to be scrambling to figure out how this new world works, where they fit in it, and how the heck they get to their goal now.

Don’t think of it as outlining, which still makes me cringe, and doesn’t really allow for narrative structure, anyway.  It’s a road map.  It’s where you’re going, where you’ve been, and how you’re going to get there.

Since I’ve had to move from sitting anywhere I like on my beloved, yet broken, Mac, I’ve created a, well, creative space on my sun porch for writing.  I’m a little superstitious about the writing mojo.  If by little, it could refer to bordering on paranoia.  Anyway, I’ve tried to… not pretty up, but make it more me.  I’m not the crafty type, ordinarily, but I bought a cheap lamp, hot glued some fancy fringe and beads around it, and viola: I have a writing lamp.  I’ll try to take a picture and post it. Maybe.

Anyway, since this is the material girl category, I found one for you!  Etsy, of course (how much do I love Etsy?).  I don’t want to steal their picture so I’ll just link you to the custom lamp shade that caught my attention.

Have to add, if you look in lighting, I am so buying the trailer trash light switch cover.

Edit: Someone bought the shade I picked out for you.  Maybe it was you!  Anyway, the link now goes to a search page for lamp shades.

So, I’m attempting to write my first synopsis. And it’s bringing back all these horrible memories of being paralyzed with fear–literally, can’t write a word, paralyzed–when I first started writing and I read all of these how-to books and web sites. Here’s what I’ve gathered, so far:

1. It’s the opposite of show-not-tell.  Tell, tell, tell!  Okay, so do what I spent ages learning how not to do?)
2. Tell your whole story, don’t leave unanswered questions.  But leave out the parts, like secondary characters and subplots, that aren’t important to the developing relationship.  (Well, if they’re not important, why are they in the book at all?)
3. Focus on the developing relationship, not the external plot.  (Are they supposed to be that easily separable? )
4. A page for every 10k words is acceptable, but an agent may only want 3…or 5… or anything that’s not what you’ve already done.  (So I have to condense it further?  Should I write the long one and then try to make it smaller or should I just do one for everyone?)
5. Make sure your voice, the voice that should be strongly present in your story, is also in your synopsis.  (All that and I have to write it well?  And why is it harder to write naturally… because of the flipping rules, that’s why!)

I think you can see where I’m going here.  I can’t find anything good, solid, “Here’s how you do it,” or even an example of a book I’ve read.  That would be awesome.

And after this, I’m going to be crafting a query letter.  Which will be nifty since I have no writing credits to my name.  I did find this, which may help, I’ll let you know.  The Complete Nobody’s Guide to Query Letters

Oh, and if I ever do figure out how to write a synopsis, I’ll share the wealth.

EDIT: This looks promising: Writing the Tight Synopsis. I’m going to try this, starting with the one page and building up. Will update on my progress.

I bought this book when it first came out because I loved Stephen King and I’d always thought about writing in a wistful sort of way.    King packs in a lot of practical advice and truth about writing in this book.  For instance, if you don’t read, forget being a writer.  Which, yes, makes sense but even so.  I wonder how many people want to write a book, be a published author, who really don’t consider diving into a book one of the true pleasures in life?

I do disagree with his assessment that if you have to plan, outline–whatever, that you’re not doing it right.  (I’m paraphrasing here, so forgive me.)  Everyone’s creative process is different, and we should protect and nurture our own way of storytelling.

One of the best assets of King is his voice, his ability to put his readers at ease, to settle in with him and enjoy a good, scary tale.  He brings that voice to this book and so, while it’s full of extremely smart advice and information, you still feel like you’re just sitting down to learn with one of the masters at his craft.