Photo by Dana Geary
Kit Dunsmore is a contemporary fantasy writer living in northern Colorado. She’s currently working on a novel about a witch who tries to rescue her best friend from a necromancer without breaking her vow never to use harmful magic. You can find her at Kit’s Home for Orphaned Armadillos.
My first attempt at this post on how I write fiction talked about generating a series of drafts, grafting together the best of the material, and how much concentration each stage takes. It was boring. So I took a walk with my dog and tried to think of a metaphor for my writing process, something vivid and visual that would give depth to my dull description of draft writing.
Of course I couldn’t think of one. I thought of three.
One for each stage of my writing process.
Writing a first draft of a scene or chapter is hiking into new territory. I go down a trail after looking at a map. I think I know where I’m going, and may have some idea of what there is to see along the way, like a lake or stream. But I really don’t know what I’m going to encounter until I start walking. Then I discover all the little twists, muddy dips, tiny flowers, animal tracks, steep climbs, and unknown people the trail has to offer. I may turn off the path at any time to visit a tree or rock barely glimpsed through the leaves. I may go up a hill to see what’s on the other side. Whether I’m hiking or writing, there’s no telling if I’ll find more of the same or something unexpected when I get there.
I’ve honed this exploratory method of draft writing for the last four Novembers by participating in National Novel Writing Month. Giving myself only 30 days to write 50,000 words has proven a great way to keep my feet moving. Desperate to hit my word count (1667 words a day), I will chase whatever shows up, whether it is a new idea for a scene or a character who has appeared out of nowhere. Anything goes. I try to ignore any thoughts I have about how stupid, crazy, or pointless something is and just run with it. After all, I’m dying to see what’s on the other side of that hill, and there’s only one satisfactory way I know to find out.
But hiking is only the beginning. After I’ve made my discoveries, good or bad, the time has come to pick through them and select the pieces that I think are most intriguing, most colorful, and stitch them together. Suddenly, I’m no longer hiking through the woods.
Now I’m quilting.
I take the pieces of draft writing I like best and turn them into a complete scene or chapter by stitching them together with more words. I’ve thought of it as stitching for years now. Sometimes the bits of draft I use are mere scraps – a sentence or two – so maybe that’s where the image comes from. Or maybe it’s the fact that I love what happens when I sew pieces of fabric together into something new and this stage of writing brings me that same joy. What looks like odd bits of fabric become a vibrant whole. Larger patterns begin to emerge, and yet each fabric contributes something unique. Making something greater, something new, from scraps is what the synthesis stage is all about for me.
Once the stitching is done, I have a whole piece, a block or a section of my fictional quilt. I step back to look at it anew, and think about its overall pattern and shape. And yet another shift happens. I am no longer sewing. Now I must weed and prune.
It’s time to garden.
Editing can be brutal. Cutting out words, sentences, scenes can seem like slashing through vines in a jungle. But I prefer a more nurturing metaphor, that of a gardener who weeds and prunes for the good of the garden as a whole. An awkward limb can rub against other parts of a tree and damage it. Weeds can choke out the delicate flowers that are trying to grow next to them. But the good gardener steps in and lops off the limbs that are harming the tree, pulls up the weeds that are smothering the flowers.
And I think good editing is the same. I’m not slashing and destroying when I cut out a sentence or drop a scene. I’m shaping the whole, for the good of the whole, making the writing attractive, making room for better things to grow.
And what do I do when I put down my shears and take off my gardening gloves?
I start all over again.
I go hiking to discover new vistas to fill in the gaps in my story so that I can stitch them onto my existing quilt blocks and then prune away whatever is destructive or ugly. This cycle keeps repeating, and with each cycle, my draft improves, my story grows stronger, and I come closer to having written something that captures my imaginary world and the people who live there.
I really had hoped for a single metaphor to describe my writing process, but now I wonder why I thought that was possible. After all, nothing I know is quite like writing.
Thanks so much for guest posting today, Kit! I especially like your idea of the editing process being a nurturing one instead of a destructive one. That will make me feel better as I slash right and left. :)
Very interesting and insightful post. Great way to rethink the writing process.
Elizabeth – Thanks for opening up your blog to Kit. Kit, I think my favorite of your metaphors is the first one – hiking. I always find that when I first start writing something, it is, indeed, a hike to a brand-new place. I don’t know what I’ll find until I get there, and sometimes I have to stop and rest. Hiking really is a very appropriate metaphor…
Great metaphors! They describe the process exactly. Only, I think of it as going on a trip to a foreign city (pretty much like hiking), combining musical notes into a symphony (I’ve never quilted, but I suppose it’s the same), and ironing the wrinkles out of a particularly stubborn fabric when editing (I’m a terrible gardner, but I don’t like ironing much either, so I’m still hunting for a good personal analogy for that stage). Thanks!
Thank you for sharing, Kit! What an encouraging way to describe the process. And actually quite helpful, too. The next time I am looking at my piles of notes, I will think about your beautiful quilting analogy.
A great post, Kit. This is a great way to encourage myself to write.
I like the idea of quilting a garden. Thanks for sharing.
Good analogy. (Even if I’ve never actually quilted!)
Kit – these are quite wonderful. Metaphor is essential to me. It can be so helpful in my work as a therapist as well as a writer! I call myself a metaphorical engineer and I think you’re one too.
Thanks Elizabeth for letting me post here.
Wow! What great comments. First, thanks to Faith, Mason, Margot, Journaling Woman, Alex, Diane, and Tara for your kind words. I was nervous about this post and should have known Elizabeth’s wonderful readers would be kind.
Lorel — I love that you found personal parallels to the metaphors I chose. I’ve traveled in foreign cities and that does match hiking, but I’ve never written a symphony. As for ironing… It is a form of getting something in shape, but rather a nasty one. Are you by any chance a person who organizes things? Because cleaning house, straightening cupboards, or anything else that is a form of organizing might work… I hate cleaning, though, so this one doesn’t really work for me. Or maybe sculpting…
Jan — I love the idea of a metaphorical engineer. I used to be a Signal Alchemist (really – it was on my business card) so I’m into unusual job titles.
Jane — I hadn’t realized that my focus was on enjoyable activities, but I think it’s clear why. I love to write.
Ann — I can relate to no energy for hiking. I have had lots of health issues in the last five years and struggled with that very issue. Another form of exploring I used to do was via car: I drove around taking turns at random just to find out what was down that road. Hiking was really my way of saying “exploring”, and there are lots of ways to explore.
That’s a wonderful way to look at it! And you’ve added the wonderful tip of what to do when you’re stuck.
Great metaphors!
I love the idea of a manuscript as an unweeded garden, but I am much better at the first part, hitchhiking :D
You described the process perfectly. I like how you picked metaphors for each step that are enjoyable tasks and not dreaded chores.
Okay, so now, what if you can’t quilt or garden…or have the energy to hike? Just joking.
Great post. I loved the metaphors and will have to incorporate this advice into my writing in future.
ann
Hi Elizabeth,
How is your sinus infection? Hope you’re feeling better. Just wanted you to know there’s a little something on my blog for you Monday morning.
karen
Dorte and Helen:
Glad you liked the metaphors. Thanks for stopping by.
This is really great advice. Great imagery here and I appreciate you taking the time to “quilt” it together, Kit. I find myself hesitating to even take that first hike. I’ll go a mile, but no further. It’s like I forget there is an entire quilt and garden to make beautiful. Thanks.
Michele
SouthernCityMysteries
Nice analogies and great advice! Thanks :)
Very lovely descriptions of the process. They all resonated with me, too, especially the gardening comparison. I just pruned my rosebushes today and was a little hesitant about cutting, then I reminded myself that the more I cut the better for the bush in the spring when the flowers come. I will keep that in mind as I edit my work in progress.
I love this multi-activity way of writing. It does make you examine each part of writing a book and see each as a different process.
Helen
Straight From Hel
Great post, great comments, and a lovely positive group environment! Thank you Kit for your permission to discover, patch together and prune my own creative work. Recently a few admirers commented on how flawless my work appeared to be. I then I returned to my workbench scratching my head, stifling myself with, “Huh? I guess it better be flawless.”
Kit, I wanted to thank you again for such an expressive post! I think we’ve all really enjoyed your metaphors–they’ve given me a fresh way of looking at my writing.
Look Up, Michele, Jemi, and Maryann: Thanks for you great comments.
Love your metaphors. Giving yourself the freedom to wander, knowing you’ll get back on the path. Cool.
I so admire your dedication to NaNoWriMo. Like hiking the Appalachian Trail in an afternoon.