Post #247 March 1, 2021 “How Many Pages Should I Write Today?” Every writer faces the same question when he or she sits down at the computer in the morning: how many pages, how many words, should I write today? This is basically a matter of scheduling. For writers of novels and non-fiction books, it goes without saying that there’s no way you can do the entire work in a day or a week, probably not even in a month. You have to divide it up into chunks, mainly because you’ve got other things to do with your life along with writing. Case in point: I’m currently working on a science fiction novel called The Farpool:Plague. I anticipate that when the initial draft is done, it will come in at somewhere around 250 pages, when formatted for Smashwords.com. Each page runs on average about 500 words, so we’re talking about 125,000 words in total. Now, how to divide that up.... I’m doing 3-5 pages a day. That doesn’t sound like much. But it leaves me with time for other tasks and projects. Writing 3 pages a day takes me about 1-2 hours, depending. But it’s 15 pages a week. Divide 250 pages by 15 pages and you get 16-17 weeks, about four plus months. At the rate I have chosen, I can do a draft of The Farpool:Plague in four months. Plus I can work on other things and have a life. Could I write more? Of course I could. But you should choose a rate that is comfortable and sustainable over a long period, since it’s unlikely you can finish a novel-length project in a few weeks. There are some writers who bat out a draft in a single marathon session of a month but I’m not one of them. I take longer and take my time and try to do the thing right from the beginning. One the most important aspects of this writing process for me, when engaged in a lengthy work, is “staying in the story”, mentally. I find that a daily regimen like I described above is a great way to do that. Even away from my desk, I find my feverish brain cogitating on the next scene, the next sentence. Sometimes ideas for snatches of dialogue or plot variations will come to me when I’m working out, mowing the lawn, eating dinner, watching TV. I want that. Every writer approaches this differently. I’m also a detailed outliner and planner, when it comes to writing a novel, or writing anything. I’ve covered some of this in earlier blog posts, but I work from the beginning to build a fairly detailed outline, with character sketches and setting and background details readily at hand for the actual writing. Sometimes my outlines and sketches are detailed enough to be lifted and pasted into the novel text as is, or with little change. That makes life easier, as long as it advances the story. The story is everything. I’m even planning on including an Appendix of some of this material at the end of The Farpool:Plague, for readers who just can’t get enough detail on my imaginary world and its people. That’s a little peek behind the curtains at the logistics or the mechanics of daily writing life. I plan to do more of this sort of thing again. My next post comes on March 8, 2021. See you next week. Phil B

Post #246 February 22 2021 “What Does That Mean? Making Up New Words for Your Story” “Litor’kel ge.” That’s what my Seomish friends from the Farpool stories say to each other. It means roughly: “Go with the flow,” or “smooth sailing,” or “may the currents be with you.” Where did it come from? I made the whole phrase up. One of the joys and challenges of writing in fiction is the chance to create and use new words and phrases. Think of ‘muggles’ from JK Rowling’s Harry Potter series. I do this a lot, since I write a lot of science fiction, where new words and phrases, even whole languages are pretty common. Did you know there are even dictionaries and grammar texts on Klingon? Before you go off the deep end on creating new words and phrases, take a moment to observe some common-sense rules of thumb about doing this effectively. 1. Your proposed new word or phrase should always look and sound like it belongs in the story. One of the best examples I can give is from my Farpool stories. The Seomish people are basically talking fish. They live underwater. Hard consonant sounds carry best underwater (try it!). Think of all the clicks you hear dolphins and whales making. That being said, when it came time to create a language and new words for the Seomish, I tried hard to make the new words with hard consonant sounds. Example: kel’vish’tu. In the world of the Seomish, a kel is a water nation or tribe. The word vish’tu means to roam about, to travel, to go on a trip. I joined these words into kel’vish’tu to refer to the Great Migration, where thousands of Seomish come through the Farpool from their oceans to the oceans of Earth. Another example is the medical/surgical procedure called conicthyosis. This is an English word denoting a procedure to make someone into an amphibious being. Note the root word: ichthyo…from the Greek ikhthys, for fishlike or relating to fish. The word sounds like its meaning. In my Appendix to The Farpool, I said this about the Seomish language…. Seomish is designed phonetically to carry well in a water medium. Hard, clicking consonants are common. The ‘p’ or ‘puh’ sound, made by violent expulsion of air is also common. Modulation of the voice stream, particularly at high frequencies (sounding much like a human whistle) produces the characteristic “wheeee” sound, which is a root of many words. Translation from Seomish to human languages like English requires some inspired speculation, since so many Seomish phrases seem to be little more than grunts or groans, modulated in frequency and duration. Most Seomish words are grouped according to several characteristics: (1) Who is speaking (the personal); (2) who is being spoken to (the indicative); (3) state of mind of the speaker (the conditional); (4) the kel-standing of the conversants (the intimant). Each classification has a set of characteristic pre-consonants, to indicate the nature of the coming words, etc. Thus: 1. k’, kee, t’ 2. tch, g, j, oot 3. m’, p’, puh’ (both anger, dislike, distaste, etc), sh, sz (both joyful) 4. each kel identifies itself with a unique set of capitalized consonants, like a vocal coat of arms. Example: t’milee, or CHE’oray…Seomish versus Timily or Chory…English. 2. Another point to consider in making up new words is that the word should always be understandable in context. One of my favorite examples of how not to do this is Anthony Burgess’ novel A Clockwork Orange. In this story, the characters all speak a sort of futuristic street-slang of British English and Burgess is so detailed with this that the book becomes almost unreadable. Remember that you are (I presume) writing for an English-speaking audience. Put the word in a context where the meaning becomes clear. Or just go ahead and provide a translation nearby. Your readers will thank you for that. 3. Your new words or phrases should be consistent with other new words in the story. If this doesn’t happen, you risk damaging or breaking that suspension of disbelief upon which all fiction, indeed all story-telling, depends. If you’re in the process of creating a believable alien language, like I did in The Farpool, you don’t have to create a whole new dictionary and rules of grammar. Maybe just an index of terms (I did that) like Frank Herbert did in his novel Dune. Just be consistent with your new stuff. Anything that breaks the spell that a good storyteller weaves over his audience is bad. 4. When you create new words or phrases, if done right, you can really deepen the sense of wonder that fictional worlds should have. You can transport your readers to a magical land where their ordinary, dreary daily real lives go away and they are exposed to altogether new words, new people, new places. Just about every reader wants that; we read fiction and tell stories in part to transport or be transported out of the ordinary and humdrum to places more special, and we want to live vicariously in those places. That’s the magic of storytelling. Making up new words and phrases is one of the great joys and challenges of storytelling. But to be effective, writers should observe a few simple rules like I’ve outlined above. Use your imaginations and let the sky and the stars be the limit (okay, that‘s a cliché, but you get the idea). And remember… “Litor’kel ge, my old friend.” The next post to The Word Shed comes on March 1, 2021. See you then. Phil B.

Post #245 February 15 2021 “Outlines” As the winter of 2021 rolls on, I am in the middle of preparing to upload another book in my Farpool series. I wanted to share a few words and thoughts about the business of outlining a story before you start writing. 1. Why outline? I can think of several reasons to do this, although every writer is different. First, a good outline (and I know this sounds like high school English, but some things you learned in high school really are true) gives you structure and a solid foundation. You don’t build a house without a foundation and the same is true of a book. The details are in the details, as they say. Also, an outline helps with what I call the ‘blank’ page’ moment of panic. You sit down at your work station and immediately you’re confronted with a blank page. What should I say? How should I say it? An outline can get you started. It’s like a map, pointing out the way to go. Outlines can help with plot problems, before they become serious problems. Doing an outline helps you find those bad old logic holes. They’ll often show up in a good outline, before you ever start writing, so you can deal with them then and the writing hopefully goes a lot more smoothly. Sometimes problems with characters will reveal themselves in an outline. Does this character have sufficient motive to move the story and react to events the way I want him to? Outlines will give you the ability to identify and fix this early on. 2. How much outline is enough? The best answer to this question is to state it like this: your outline is detailed enough when you understand the story well enough to write it comfortably. For me, that’s about 3-4 pages per book chapter. That’s enough detail for me. That’s what I did in the outlines for Time Jumpers. When the story flows and plot developments seem believable, consistent, even a little surprising, you’ve got a good outline. Often, writing an outline will even suggest new and unexpected plot directions you hadn’t thought of before. It’s a lot easier to integrate these into the story at the outline stage than later. Plot changes and logical problems may still develop later (that’s for another post) but outlining will catch a lot of the obvious ones, if done well. 3. What if the story wants to go beyond or outside the outline? Let’s face it, this happens. Ask yourself this: how far off do I want to veer? Is this a completely new direction, at total variance with my concept of the story, or is this just a side trip? Does veering off make sense? It makes sense when it can (1) illuminate character in some way; (2) advance the story in an entertaining and engaging new direction; or (3) when veering off makes a point that needs to be made. Can I get back to the main plot line okay if I take the story in this direction? Or do I have to wave my hands, cobble something out of thin air, rely on magical intervention or something else completely unbelievable to get back to the main plot line? If the main plot line is sound and yet you can justify this unexpected new direction, then go ahead and explore the road less traveled. In a word, if it feels good, do it. Just remember, the reader may or may not feel the same way. Try asking a friend or a fellow writer. You have to be straight and play fair with the reader. And maybe, if this new direction seems like a good idea, go back to an earlier spot in your outline and slip in some hints that this change could happen. Below, I reproduce a chapter outline from Episode 1 of Time Jumpers, so you can see the detail I go into…what works for me. Chapter 1 “Storm Warnings” 1. Start with Cygnus and the crew of 1st TD landing on Kinlok Island, on the planet Storm. It’s time stream T-077. The crew consists of Dringoth, Golich, Acth:On’e, M’Bela, Yang and URME. Their mission: deploy, set up and test the new weapon Time Twister. 2. We follow the crew as they go about this task, which will take several weeks. They are not overly happy about being on this hellhole sewer of a planet. 3. One day, Yang and M’Bela witness the emergence of what seems to be an intelligent marine creature onto the beach. They try to communicate with it, only to find it has some kind of sound suppressor weapon and they are both rendered unconscious for a time when the creature becomes alarmed at their approach and uses the device. After coming to, the creature is gone. They report this to Dringoth and find none of the other crew believes their story. 4. But before the discovery can be explored further, sensors indicate that a small formation of Coethi ships have just jumped out of a local time stream and seem to be in orbit around Storm. Dringoth makes a command decision: Dringoth will take Golich, URME and Yang aboard Cygnus and take off to engage the Coethi. Acth:On’e and M’Bela will stay on Storm and finish deployment of the Time Twister. That’s all I did to get off and running on my story, when I sat down to start writing. You may be different. But this is an approach that works well for me, for the reasons identified above. Try it. The next post to The Word Shed comes on February 22. See you then. Phil B.

Post #244 February 8 2021 “Re-starting an Existing Book Series” Recently, I decided to go back to my series The Farpool Stories and add some additional stories. I have in mind to do three additional novels in this series. Which leads me to today’s message about restarting an existing series. Below are some things you should think about when doing this. BTW, the new titles will be (in order): The Farpool: Plague; The Farpool: Diaspora; and The Farpool: Destiny. 1. The first matter to attend to is the matter of continuity. Continuity means that the characters, the setting and the story and plot of the new series are not radically at variance with what has gone before. There is a logical extrapolation. This should be thought out and well considered before you ever write the first word. In order to ensure this for my stories, I have set myself the task of re-reading all five previous novels. This puts me in the story universe mentally and allows me to take notes on who goes where, what happens to whom, who dies and who prospers. Continuity is important in continuing TV series too, so much so that the production companies often have a continuity editor on staff. Imagine Star Trek without continuity from one episode or series to another…Klingons acting like Romulans, obvious gaffes with warp drives, etc. To put this another way, problems with continuity damage the believability of your story, sometimes irreparably. Your readers want to engage with the story and believe in it, so anything that impedes that is, by definition, bad. 2. The second matter to deal with is character. This is an extension of continuity, but more specific. For my own Farpool Stories, my two main original characters were Chase Meyer and Angie Gilliam. They show up in all the original five novels. But my new series takes places a hundred years after the last of the original novels. I can’t have Chase and Angie at over a hundred years old traipsing around the galaxy and still be believable. So, I’ve invented a new character, Charley Meyer, who is a daughter of Chase and Angie. Having done that, I have to make sure Charley doesn’t do things too much at odds with her parents or upbringing, or at least, have a plausible reason for things that seem out of character. You can see how this is kind of a form of continuity, but it’s important enough to story believability to emphasize it separately. 3. The third item for our concern is conflict, or more specifically my outline and how the plot unfolds. I’m currently in the process of fleshing out my outline (which is to say the plot) for the next story The Farpool: Plague. In my outline, I should be cognizant of what has gone before, enough so that I can continue the story arc in a believable way. This is why I’m reading and taking notes on the previous five novels. I want the new story to be a logical and plausible continuation of what happened in the last of the original stories, The Farpool: Union. Moreover, the basic conflicts in the new story should be organic to the conflicts developed in the original five, perhaps a continuing conflict that has animated all the stories. In my case, an example would be the basic (seemingly unending) conflict between two of the kels, or water clans: the Omtorish and the Ponkti. In many of my stories, the Ponkti are often the villains, the Nazis (if you will) of the Seomish people. I plan to carry this ongoing conflict forward into the new story and probably deepen it. Three elements of re-starting an existing series are continuity, character and conflict. If you’ll attend to these, your re-launch will go a lot more smoothly. The next post to The Word Shed comes on February 15, 2021. See you then. Phil B.