Hmm, I had a response to a previous comment of yours that was lost -- twice -- in a Livejournal blip. Something about the creative urge is like catching a wave and surfing it.
My first novel, attempted at the age of fifteen, I plotted carefully. I created scenery and a world... and the characters just wouldn't live. I would tell them what to do, and they'd march around obediently like little toy soldiers, but their dialogue was stilted, and the moment my plot sagged, they did.
I threw it away. (It really was awful.)
I didn't do any more creative writing until I was in my mid-30's. I had a really, oh, incredible life story by then and I was considering writing a book about it. (A professional reporter wrote it instead. Several, actually.) I read a book by Orson Scott Card called Characters and Viewpoint that really changed the way I looked at characters.
Well, a couple years passed and I didn't write a thing, just occasionally stared at a blank page and sketched out some broad, dead theory.
Crumpled it up. Threw it away.
I started writing Lord of the Rings essays instead. Revitalized my ability to structure and build to a point. Debated with some fairly sharp Lord of the Rings scholars, particularly a very religious politician in New Jersey, and a level-headed attorney in New York. Our arguments were hot and heavy, and we had to drop our essay-length responses on the board quickly, or else the topic might shift.
Then I discovered slash.
I started writing Lord of the Rings fanfiction and... I found myself trying to control the characters once again, killing the story. I knew it wasn't good. How hard could it be to get Frodo and Sam into bed, really? I am the all powerful author. But they felt rather wooden. And not in a good way.
I remembered something Orson Scott Card had said: if you don't know what a character will do in a particular situation, ask them. Interview your characters, he said. So that's exactly what I did. I visualized Frodo (feeling very silly, and no, he didn't look anything like Elijah Wood) set him across from me, got out my pen and paper and asked under my breath:
The non-mystery of the creative process
My first novel, attempted at the age of fifteen, I plotted carefully. I created scenery and a world... and the characters just wouldn't live. I would tell them what to do, and they'd march around obediently like little toy soldiers, but their dialogue was stilted, and the moment my plot sagged, they did.
I threw it away. (It really was awful.)
I didn't do any more creative writing until I was in my mid-30's. I had a really, oh, incredible life story by then and I was considering writing a book about it. (A professional reporter wrote it instead. Several, actually.) I read a book by Orson Scott Card called Characters and Viewpoint that really changed the way I looked at characters.
Well, a couple years passed and I didn't write a thing, just occasionally stared at a blank page and sketched out some broad, dead theory.
Crumpled it up. Threw it away.
I started writing Lord of the Rings essays instead. Revitalized my ability to structure and build to a point. Debated with some fairly sharp Lord of the Rings scholars, particularly a very religious politician in New Jersey, and a level-headed attorney in New York. Our arguments were hot and heavy, and we had to drop our essay-length responses on the board quickly, or else the topic might shift.
Then I discovered slash.
I started writing Lord of the Rings fanfiction and... I found myself trying to control the characters once again, killing the story. I knew it wasn't good. How hard could it be to get Frodo and Sam into bed, really? I am the all powerful author. But they felt rather wooden. And not in a good way.
I remembered something Orson Scott Card had said: if you don't know what a character will do in a particular situation, ask them. Interview your characters, he said. So that's exactly what I did. I visualized Frodo (feeling very silly, and no, he didn't look anything like Elijah Wood) set him across from me, got out my pen and paper and asked under my breath: