Post #270 August 30 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: Diaspora. I anticipate that when the initial draft is done, it will come in at somewhere around 220 pages, when formatted for Smashwords.com. Each page runs on average about 400-500 words, so we’re talking about 115,000 to 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 3-5 pages a day takes me about 1-2 hours, depending. But it’s 15-25 pages a week. Divide 220 pages by 20 pages (on average) and you get 11 weeks, roughly about 3 months. Add another month for editing and re-writing. At the rate I have chosen, I can do a finished draft of The Farpool:Diaspora in three to 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 occasionally included an Appendix of some of this material at the end of some of The Farpool Stories, 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. The Word Shed won’t publish on September 6, owing to the Labor Day holiday. My next post, on September 13, will cover details about a projected upcoming series called Terra Troopers, which should debut at Smashwords in late 2022. See you in 2 weeks. Phil B

Post #269 August 23, 2021 “Starting…” In recent days, our house has had issues with our 17-KW generator not being able to supply enough power to our AC compressor whenever the generator is running. It seems that the compressor requires about 115 amps for startup and 45 amps for running. This is at the maximum capacity of the generator to supply. We’re working on getting a new generator. Which leads me to the idea of what it takes to actually start a new novel. In the last week, I have done this. I have started on the newest novel in my Farpool Stories series. It’s called The Farpool: Diaspora and I hope to make it available in mid to late fall of 2021. Any start of a book-length work requires energy, just like our AC compressor. Along with energy, such an effort needs optimism, hope, attention to detail, determination and some kind of plan. Whenever I start a new novel, I feel a sense of infinite possibilities, and I’m not talking about that last glass of Riesling I just had. It can be a bit overwhelming. The best way I know to get a grip on that feeling and not be intimidated into putting the start off for another day is to have a detailed outline readily at hand. A few character bios wouldn’t hurt either. Structure makes the writer’s literary universe seem just a wee bit less intimidating. No race is ever won in the first few steps but the race can be lost in those steps. In the most recent Olympics (Tokyo 2020), one track and field hurdler missed his very first hurdle. He tried to finish but winning was naturally out of the question. Getting off on the right foot is important whether you’re running hurdles, swimming a 50-meter sprint or starting a new novel. It’s important not to be discouraged by the magnitude of the task before you. Most of my novels end up over 200 to sometimes 250, even 300 pages. You’re not going to be able to do that in one day. Just do a few pages every day and keep at it. Print out what you’ve done. If you’re like me, you enjoy the visual sight of pieces of paper mounting up, a tangible reminder of your progress. In anything involving a sustained effort over many weeks or months (or even years), discipline and persistence are key. There will be days when your resolve and energy flags a little. That’s okay. Don’t hyperventilate. Give yourself a day off. Then get back to it the next day. It doesn’t hurt to be OCD, like me. Writing 3-5 pages a day has now become, after many years of this, just another daily part of my life, like brushing teeth or eating lunch or working out. When that happens, you can say with some confidence that you’re actually a writer. After a month off from finishing The Farpool; Plague, it feels good to be back banging out 3-5 pages a day. Although I needed the time away from writing, it feels like an important part of me has reawakened. In the first week of my effort with The Farpool: Diaspora, I finished 25 pages of the first draft. I feel pretty good about that. The next post to The Word Shed comes on August 30, 2021. See you then. Phil B.

Post # 268 August 16 2021 “Wookies, Muggles and Other Made-Up Words” “Litor’kel ge.” This phrase comes from my made-up Seomish language, which appears in all of The Farpool Stories. It means something like “go with the flow,” or “may the currents be with you.” One of the great joys of writing (especially fiction) is the chance to make up words for effect. But as with chocolate candy and daytime television, you have to be careful not to overdo it. Too many words made-up can really make reading a story a struggle. Just look at Anthony Burgess’ novel A Clockwork Orange, if you don’t believe me. Writers of fantasy and science fiction are probably the most accomplished at using made-up words and even whole languages in their stories. For The Farpool Stories, I even included an appendix in many of the titles that explained how the language of the sea-going Seomish people came to be. Check out the text below…. The 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. A good example is the Seomish word for Earth…Urku. After the Kel’vishtu (the Great Emigration), thousands of Seomish found themselves in the oceans of Earth. Despite differences in chemical makeup, temperature and salinity, the oceans of Earth haven’t caused great changes in the basic dialects of the Seomish language. 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. Okay, so you don’t have to go to this great a length in your work. But it is fun. The key thing to remember, though, is when and where to insert made-up words. A little goes a long way. Just ask J.K. Rowling, creator of the Harry Potter stories. Here are some informal guidelines to consider when you want to insert a made-up word or phrase. 1. Are you trying to replicate a sound? In The Farpool Stories, I have a translation device called an echopod. I wanted to simulate the screeching and scratching it sometimes made when translating, so I introduced this: Shkreeeaaahhh. Hopefully you get the idea. 2. Use made-up words to inject realism. In The Farpool Stories, my characters are all marine creatures, like talking fish. Nobody would believe it if they all spoke in the King’s English (though there may have been early Star Trek episodes that did things like this). 3. Use made-up words to emphasize difference, even alienness. Once you meet the Seomish people and hear them conversing in their own clicking, honking tongue, you know you’re not in Kansas anymore. 4. Always provide context nearby, in proximity to your made-up words. Take ‘muggle,’ from the Harry Potter stories. J.K. Rowling uses this word in context, so you know it refers to non-wizard folk. Some of her wizards even explain this to those who might not understand. Doing this in context is better, because it’s less jarring to the reader. Even if you didn’t know right away what “litor’kel ge” meant, you could discern the meaning from how the Seomish use it, as a sort of term of endearment or encouragement. 5. Keep the number of made-up words and phrases to a minimum. Space them out over several pages. Insert them into sentences and paragraphs where they are surrounded by English words for context. Judicious use of alien words will help the reader know that these are aliens or different kinds of people being described without interfering with the flow of the story or making the story unintelligible. Your reader will make the connections in his or her mind. Remember, your readers still speak and read English. Making up new words is the fun part of writing. Just don’t go overboard or become too enamored with the made-up words that you forget the story itself. Great as Frank Herbert’s sf novel Dune is, it sometimes takes the made-up language and words a little too far. If you can’t read and enjoy the story without having a dictionary nearby (even if there is one), you’ve gone too far. The next post to The Word Shed comes on August 23 2021. See you then. Phil B.

Post # 267 August 9 2021 “Chapters and Parts: Organizing Your Story” Virtually every book published, fiction or nonfiction, is divided into parts and chapters and other sections. While the publishing industry has its own guidelines on how this should be done, in this post I want to talk with you, the writer and author, about how to organize your story in ways that make sense…to you and the reader. Stage plays usually have three acts. Many teleplays for TV have 4-act structures. Let’s say you have a plot or outline of some kind. You have a narrative that starts off, builds to some kind of climax and then ends. How should it be segmented into chapters and parts? And what’s the difference between parts and chapters anyway? First off, let me say I’m not a fan of using parts instead of chapters. To me, a part is a major shift in the narrative, a major discontinuity. It’s something that chapters can do just as well. If you google the difference, the results tell you that a chapter is the details of an event, using context, characters and action. This search also produced a result telling me that a part was a subdivision of a chapter, though I’ve seen it the other way around just as often. One search result claimed that chapters were primarily used to make a book more user-friendly, which I think is true. To try to clarify this, let’s put some structure and guidelines to our discussion about structure and guidelines. I can think of 3 reasons why a chapter break (as opposed to a scene break inside a chapter) might be useful. 1. A chapter break can imply a change in location. One chapter might show events and actions in Casablanca. The next one might be on Mars. The chapter break reinforces in the reader’s mind that what is coming is different in an important way. This helps prepare the reader mentally and emotionally for a major shift in the narrative. 2. A chapter break can imply a change in time. Perhaps Chapter 1 takes place today and Chapter 2 is a flashback, showing events in the past. Or perhaps Chapter 2 is just a few days or weeks ahead. We’ve all seen films where the passage of time is graphically illustrated by spinning clock faces or newspapers flying around. These are like film versions of a chapter break. In my work, I like to begin each chapter with a little insert that indicates the place and time of the upcoming action. 3. Chapter breaks can also imply a change in character. Chapter 4 might be dealing with our hero Joe Blow and his efforts to fend off the evil Tralfamadorians (with apologies to Kurt Vonnegut). Chapter 5 might then be a depiction of Joe’s girlfriend Frieda and her efforts to grow more magic crystals to empower Joe and his superhero friends for future battles. Of course, the chapter and the narrative in general can switch back and forth. In fact, this is a good way to build tension in the narrative. But a chapter break would be a good choice in one chapter that deals mainly with Joe and the next one dealing mainly with Frieda. It separates the two in the reader’s mind. Chapters allow the storyteller to manage multiple plot lines and keep them straight more easily. Imagine a stage set in a stage play. After one scene, the lights dim and stagehands move furniture around to new positions. That’s a kind of stage version of a chapter break. I develop chapters in my stories at the tail end of my planning. First, I write down a ‘sequence of events,’ a list of things I think should happen in the story. Then I group them into whatever groups seem logical. Those groups become my chapters. In years past, I even made a table for different plot lines and wrote down in each column (row by row) what happened in that plot line. Then I would make chapters by grouping the table cells across the table into logical units. I don’t do this anymore, since I can usually get a sense of narrative flow just from my original sequence. Just remember this: chapters imply continuity and chapter breaks imply a change in that continuity. Longer books, fiction and nonfiction, need the flexibility that chapters bring to keep the reader’s interest and manage all the pieces of the narrative, forging them into some kind of coherent whole. Use chapters wisely and they’ll contribute much-needed structure to your story. Use chapters poorly and they’ll interrupt and poison the reading experience. The choice is yours. The next post to The Word Shed will come on August 16 and deal with made-up words and when to use them. See you then. Phil B.