Category: On Writing

Sometimes, I feel like I’m writing in a vacuum. It’s as if my thoughts and ideas don’t exist anywhere but in my own mind–let alone matter to anyone else. It’s as if the writing is begging for an audience, yet there is no one to read it unless you’ve garnered an audience.

It’s as if I’m writing to myself, as if my voice is just a voice inside my head. Although I know my writing will be read by someone, it doesn’t feel that way when I’m writing. It’s as if the words will just float out there in digital space–waiting to be read.

One of the hardest things about writing is just that: writing. It can feel discouraging, like your voice won’t be heard. I write for myself, but at the same time, I want my writing to be read. But to be read is a choice for the reader. It is up to them to decide whether or not there is something worthwhile in my writing.

Is it just that my writing is worthwhile to me? That my ideas are exciting or intriguing because I think they are? All I can do is hope that my writing won’t feel like it exists in a vacuum, that I’m writing is worthwhile to other people.

Besides, writing takes loads of time and energy–especially writing that’s been edited and rewritten multiple times. The process can feel isolating, where the work only matters to you, and you only. It’s so much easier to quit–to try something else that’s easier, where you’re not wondering if you’re wasting your time.

But maybe–just maybe–someone will find your writing as important as you do. At least that is what we hope for in anything we believe is important.

When I try and split my time between reading or writing, I cannot do both for very long. Whenever I’m reading a book, the story makes everything else fade away. If I’m writing, the story is what I’m pouring my energy into. In the latter case, reading a book becomes secondary or even put off to the side until I finish writing. I can only focus on one or the other.

Even when I try to do both, such as read part of the day and write the latter half of the day, this won’t last long. One of the two will win over me, depending on where my interest lies. I might stick to the half and half schedule for a week, but the following week, either I’ll be entirely focused on reading or writing.

I’m sure there are authors that have found a balance, where they’ve disciplined themselves to give each their due. So perhaps I’m speaking more for myself–this “all in” approach to reading or writing. I do find that the “all in” approach works for me to finish something quickly. If I’m “all in” in reading, I can finish a book in a day or two, which might’ve taken me two or more weeks if I took my time.

Conversely, a story that might’ve taken months or over a year to write, I’ll finish it in half the time. Because I’m giving it full my attention, thinking about it day and night, I can work on it uninterrupted.

For authors that like to write at a slower pace, reading and writing works for them because they’re not trying to finish their story at a face paced. Rather, they’re taking their time with each, allowing the story they’re reading to unfold chapter by chapter, and letting the ideas for their story to build overtime.

But for me, when an idea takes ahold of me, I like to run with it–even sprint with it. I write feverishly until I finish.

Staring at a blank page is like having a brain freeze. Your brain doesn’t know what to say, what to write, or what to think. It’s stuck. It can be frustrating, even discouraging.

It’s like you’re waiting for your mind to tell your fingers what to type. But once you get started, it feels liberating. Writing can be like a conversation you’re having with yourself, or it can be an out of body experience–a phenomenon where an idea takes ahold of you and you’re writing without knowing in advance what the words will be or what the end goal is.

You can write a lot if you don’t stop to think about what you’re writing. I find that once I stop to correct something or to find the right words, the flow dwindles down, and it’s hard to pick up the pace. It’s kind of like jogging and then stopping to check a message on your phone. It hinders the pace, the mental conversation stops, and you have to pick up where you left off.

For me, writing is about momentum, about getting the thoughts down before the hold of the idea let’s go. I don’t stop to fact check or refine the piece for clarity or remove errors during the first draft. Just like with jogging, you build up stamina by writing more and more each time. Whenever you’re interrupted, it’s hard to build that stamina up because there was a pause in the workout.

Whenever I stare at a blank page, I think of what I want to say, what’s on my mind. If I struggle to write anything, I make a list of ideas of things I’d like to write about. After I decide which one to focus on, I start with my initial thoughts on it. Then I add a sentence to it, and then another . . .

Finding things to fix in our writing feels like a never ending experience. Even when we’ve edited it numerous times, there’s something that can always be added to the story to make it better and more solid.

After a draft, the story continues to linger in our minds. We think about the characters and the structure of the story. We contemplate if everything works and if there’s something that’s missing. If we conclude that everything is airtight, we feel that the story is done.

That is until we find a mistake. It could be a tiny mistake, such as a spelling error or the wrong use of “their” vs. “they’re”, or a big mistake such as a character trait inconsistency or a choice that they made that makes no sense. It’s as if we’re blind to these mistakes because the story already make sense in our minds.

Another pair of eyes can be crucial when editing a story (and to catch these mistakes). When we have someone else read it, they point out the things that we were blind to. They see the glaring errors that we skipped over, and can suggestions on the pacing and the word usage (i.e. if a paragraph/sentence is too wordy or if the wrong word is used).

What I do toward the last edit is compare the last version to the second to last version in Microsoft Word. I can see what edits I made, and if I should keep them or revise them. This way, I’m not exhausting myself by rereading the story (after the 10 time) and focus on the changes instead.

Sometimes when writing a story, we can go in the wrong direction. It’s not until after the story is finished that we realize our mistakes. We edit the story and discover things that aren’t working or key events that take the story in the wrong direction. It can be a frustrating experience.

One example is a betrayal that shouldn’t be in the story. Another is a villain who has the wrong backstory. Or the protagonist could’ve made illogical or careless decisions that take the story the wrong way.

When we catch these mistakes, we end up rewriting scenes or chapters. We might even notice that something is missing from the story, such as dialogue or a scene. It’s a lot of work, but necessary for the story.

When we realize the story is going in the wrong direction, it makes us take a step back and look at the big picture. It’s an opportunity to improve the story and fix plot holes and inconsistencies. It’s better we fix them now rather than have the reader catch them for us.

It’s an arduous and painful process. We don’t want to admit we were wrong from the start, or that there were flaws with our ideas. Perhaps we feel defeated and we want to scrap the project altogether. But it happens with any story we work on. We have to put it back together–refine it until its whole and complete.

When I start a story, I’m not trying to write eloquently or find the right words. I’m diving right into the scene, recording what I see in my vision. In fact, the entire first draft is akin to a painter doing a preliminary sketch. My goal is to get the basics ideas down as I create the story from scratch.

It’s not until the editing process that the finer details are worked out. That can’t start until the story exist in the word document first.

When starting a story, I don’t like to stop typing until the chapter/scene is done. I don’t mind all of the spelling mistakes or grammar errors that the software catches. I have a vision in my mind and my goal is to type it before it disappears. Once it disappears, I won’t be able to get it back. I might get glimpses of it if I try to remember, but not the entire vision in its raw form.

Starting a story is exciting and intense. When the words flow off of our fingers to the keyboard and into the computer, it feels like being transported into another realm. It’s like being in the zone and nothing matters except the story.

And as we write, the story splashes onto the page. The ideas become paramount. The descriptions unfold. The scene takes shape. Everything comes together, and we experience the most thrilling and exciting thing about writing: creating a new world.

As a writer, having lots of ideas can be useful and motivating, yet it can also be overwhelming. Why overwhelming? Because it can feel like there is not enough time to turn those ideas into stories or even explore them fully.

When writing a story, we have to pick one idea and run with it. Of course, that one idea can be tied to a host of ideas that are related/connected with it. Having lots of ideas in this sense is helpful and productive.

But having a lot of project ideas is what can be overwhelming for a writer. A writer only has so much time to write, and each project can take hours, weeks, or months to complete. Not only that, a writer may get tons of ideas that just keep piling up. There aren’t enough days in a lifetime to get through all of them.

Before I start on a project, I try to include as many ideas that I can from my to-do list. I know I won’t have enough time to write all of the stories I want, so I combine them together in one story.

And when those ideas meet, it can create something that is truly unique and comprehensive of our vision. It’s like putting all the best scenes together in one story. It’s a great and rewarding feeling, since those filed away ideas now have a life now.

A twist in a story is a revelation that goes against our expectation(s) of the story, and sometimes, defies the rules of the genre. The twist can be something that comes out of nowhere; it can be an unexpected character that turns out to be the villain (or a hero), or something that was hidden from the character (i.e. they were helping the villains inadvertently).

Sometimes a twist can change the whole meaning of a story (i.e. if the story turned out to be a dream, or if it turned out to be flashbacks). Sometimes, a twist can happen when characters that were thought to have passed away are alive (which happened in Voltaire’s Candide).

When I write short stories, I’m more inclined to include a twist than I would to a novel. In a novel, the story unfolds logically–naturally. Of course, there still can be a twist in a novel, but it doesn’t have the same impact as a short story does.

In a novel, it would be disappointing if the entire story were just a dream. When we invest all that time, we want the entire story arc to sum up to something to a grand conclusion. In a short story, that kind of twist can work. Here are two reasons why: 1) a shorty story is not so much about the characters as to the idea of the story, and 2) the point of the story can be the twist itself.

A twist in a short story is like the revelation that is at the end of a novel. A novel left clues throughout the story that culminated to the revelation. In a short story, the revelation happens all of a sudden. In both cases, the revelation can catch us by surprise.

Writing science fiction is a ton of fun, since there are limitless scientific and futuristic ideas to explore. It’s a genre where we can write about space, technology, time travel, possible worlds, and new societies. It’s a genre that looks at what might exist on other planets, and how they might impact humanity.

A science fiction story often involves research into topics such as physics or genetics so that we can embed scientific facts into the story. It also helps us write characters that can talk about the subject and sound believable in their word usage.

On the other hand, science fiction asks us to stretch our imagination. In a story that takes place in the future, we must be able to describe the environment in detail–know what the rules and principles are by which the society functions. We must be able to describe what their value systems are, their norms, and how the characters interact because of them.

We must imagine what technologies they might have and how they use them. And with all these moving parts, we must keep them consistent to tell the story convincingly.

Writing science fiction is like exploring a new frontier. It’s a place that hasn’t been settled in, a place that is vast and is full of treasures to discover. Writing science fiction leads us to think about how society could be improved, but also, leads us to look at the causes that might lead society in the wrong direction.

The irony about writing a mystery story is that the story is a mystery to me. Even if I know what the outcome is, the clues and evidences remain to be discovered in the writing process.

When writing a mystery, I have to be in the moment of the scenes: the Q & A, the search for clues, the drive to locations, etc. My mystery novel, The Birnbaum Case, is a great example of this. When I wrote the story, I was figuring out the circumstances of Stanley Birnbaum’s disappearance while writing it. The mystery unfolded as I wrote it line after line, scene after scene. Even the lines of the dialogue weren’t planned. I wrote them as if I were in the characters shoes, writing what would come natural to them.

When writing a mystery, I want it to be intriguing and exciting throughout. If I had known all the answers at the start, there wouldn’t be room for spontaneity or to rewrite scenes and include unexpected twists. I want to surprise myself as I write to keep the story organic and fresh. I want the characters to sound genuine when they ask questions and answer them. I want the psychology of the characters to be real, not contrived. I want the story to unfold as if life were happening–where things interfere or where situations are unclear.

In essence, I want the mystery to feel organic and unpredictable at the same time. I want the experience of writing the mystery to be that way so that the revelations aren’t seen early on in the chapters.

Besides, the twists and turns are what piques our interest and keep us engaged in a mystery story. A good mystery will keep us reading to know what will happen until the very end. A great mystery will surprise us at every turn, and an amazing mystery will be a story that we don’t want to end.