Pantsing Versus Outlining

I'm an inveterate pantser. That is, for the most part, I write organically. I know the beginning of the story I'm writing, where it ends and sometimes a few of the key points along the way. For the rest I rely on my characters, who always appear before there's any hint of a story, and lead me on. Often they appear first in a short scene, maybe only as an image, then grow and develop until I know them well. All this happens before I have put a word of the story on the page.

For those writers who outline and structure rigorously this is anathema. "How can you not plan," they cry, but I've tried that and and it just doesn't work for me. If I try to fit what I'm writing into a tight plan the result is dull, unconvincing and, to put it bluntly, boring. The vibrant and fascinating characters I first met find themselves strangled by the ties of a predetermined plot but when I let them lose their story comes to life. Of course, they do tend to want to go off on their own adventures. Sometimes this is a good thing but, if necessary, I can always take them in hand when they stray too far. Usually though, it works out even if I do have a few surprises on the way.

Given my method - or lack of it some might say - I found this Writers Digest article by Steven James, where he gives some reasons why pantsing isn't necessarily bad, interesting. The links below the article are full of interesting ideas too.

Fake ... Girls

I've mentioned before just how much I enjoy Jim C. Hines' blog. He calls things as they are and has no truck with racism, misogyny, sexism or or any other offensive behaviour - and he's a fine and entertaining writer as well.  

Anyone who is part of the speculative fiction world in any way is likely to have heard of the numerous complaints about fake geek girls by a certain, fortunately in the minority but very vocal, group. This group is scathing about fake geek girls who seem to be any female (especially cosplayers) who dares to tread outside their (that is the group's) prescribed boundaries. If she happens to be good looking that is even more offensive for some obscure reason.

Misogyny comes up in other areas too, of course (those uppity women get everywhere, you know) and Hines' latest post Fake Writer Girls, instead of railing about it, has thoughtful fun with the issue. Between his post and the well moderated comments there is a wonderful list of women writers in the genre to provide a reading list long enough to keep even the well read going for years. Watch out though if you're worried about girl cooties.

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Barking Dogs

So a couple of weeks ago, after months of barking by the dogs-over-the-back-fence had escalated to continual daytime barking and hurling themselves at the house doors so adding another layer of noise (and with the other neighbours getting even more twitchy than me and talking about calling the Council) I put a polite note in the owners' letterbox telling them what was going on. I'd been assuming it was happening when the dogs were left home by themselves but since there were three cars parked on the driveway and the dogs were barking furiously when I dropped the note off I didn't expect much to change. But it did and we've had peace until yesterday when they started intermittent barking and yapping again. Today it's increased to almost nonstop howling. Oh dear. I should have known it was too good to last.

Some Thoughts on Poetry

- not necessarily mine.

I call myself an occasional poet. By that I mean I write poetry when something moves me deeply. Unlike some of my friends who are accomplished and prize winning poets - and seem to be able to create something beautiful without too much anguish or soul searching - my poems take much rewriting and even when they are finished, rarely leave me entirely satisfied with them. Even the one I did place with in a competition has never felt quite as good as I would have liked it to be.

Despite this I keep trying and that is why this post by poet Katy Evans-Bush for UK National Poetry Day on her Baroque in Hackney blog resonated with me. While the suggestions she makes are aimed at encouraging participation in National  Poetry Day it seems to me that they can be just as useful on how to make poetry, whether your own or someone else's, part of your life anytime, anywhere.

A Small, Sad Ending

So this is the nest the doves built on top of the verandah clothesline. At this stage it was a few days off completion.

                                            

Below is the completed nest now abandoned. Not a particularly pretty sight but, while it mightn't look much, by dove standards this is a veritable mansion. It has tall sides, a securely built floor of twigs and grass and the long bits apparently just trailing untidily actually anchor it to the ledge it's sitting on. Doves don't go much for fripperies - you won't find any feather linings here - but when the hen settles on her eggs, her feathers spread out to cover them and protect from any draughty gaps.

By last Friday I knew the babies had hatched. Pisces found some broken egg shells that had been dumped away from the nest and, although I couldn't see the babies, there was feeding going. This kept on all day Friday and Saturday and we seemed on track for a successful chick rearing.

Then tragedy struck. On Saturday night south west Western Australia was hit by a fierce cold front bringing with it gales, rain and hail. There was widespread damage. I was woken at one time certain the roof was going to fly off. Luckily it didn't but Pisces found his way to work blocked by the roof of a block of apartments that had been deposited on a major highway so not everyone was as fortunate.

The gales and rain kept on most of the day, easing a little in the late afternoon, but the nest was still in place with the little hen sitting tight. Good, I thought, they've survived. Then a second front hit. More gales, more hail, more rain all night.

Next morning the hen was very distressed, standing on the edge of the nest, calling and fluttering her wings. The male kept coming and going, calling loudly, as agitated as she was. This went on most of the day and then they were both gone shortly before dark. I hoped they'd be back for the night but next morning there was no sign of them. So I got the ladder out. The nest was empty.

What happened I don't know. Maybe the hen was blown off the nest and the chicks went too. I looked around and eventually found one tiny corpse. A small tragedy in the scheme of things, I suppose. The thing that got me, though, was how distressed the parents were. We are inclined to underestimate, I think, how creatures other than humans feel. Watching them it was obvious they were desperately affected by what had happened. The male seemed to be persuading the hen that it was over,  that it was time to go and when they eventually left, they went together.

It made me think. We talk about dumb animals and we're anthropomorphising if we talk about them having feelings. They don't feel things like we do, we're told. They have limited understanding. People are the special ones, those who feel. Well, after watching this small tragedy, I've been asking myself this question: how do we know that?

When you think about it properly, it really doesn't make sense. We know how strong the maternal instinct is. So why do we only dignify it with the word love if it's to do with humans? I'm sure emotions work differently in other creatures - it must given their experiences are different from ours - but one thing I'm certain of having watched those two doves is that they were grieving. Maybe they got on with their lives more quickly than human parents would have but that could be because they live only a fraction of the time we expect to. Because I've seen these things happen before I know they won't come back to this nest and what does that say about them and how they feel?

Maybe we should try to look at these issues less through the prism of humanity's eyes and instead try to be more objective. Then, perhaps, we will begin a whole new relationship with our fellow creatures.

Repairs - Otherwise Known as Aaaaargh!!!!!!!

We had some serious water damage in our garage during a recent storm and, when we contacted our insurer, they agreed to do the repairs but - and there's always a but, isn't there - they want us to install an additional down pipe before they'll tackle the repairs.

While I agree an additional down pipe is probably highly desirable exactly how we're to get this done I'm not sure. Pisces, while a wonderful man in many ways, is not a handyman by any standard you might like to apply and I'm disabled so that means we're unable to do it ourselves. If our recent experience in trying get quotes for another much bigger job (costing around $1500-2000, we think) have been unsuccessful - we have so far approached seven tradespeople for quotes and of those only one has turned up and then he only gave us a guesstimate on the back of a card - what chance do we have of getting someone to come and install one down pipe?

Doesn't look hopeful, does it.

It's R U OK? Day

R U OK? is an initiative of the R U OK? Foundation and stands for "Are you okay?". It is held on the second Thursday in September and is meant to encourage us - all of us - to think about and support those who might be overwhelmed with what life is throwing at them or struggling with mental illness and suicidal thoughts by asking them "Are you okay?" Combined with Suicide Prevention Day earlier in the week this is an important issue that we should all be aware of.

R U OK? is a reminder that we need to check in periodically, not just on this one day of the year but often, with our friends and loved ones and listen - really listen - to what they are saying. It's so easy to get caught up in our own lives and forget to do this and it's a major mistake. We can't necessarily solve people's problems but we can be there for them and support them. That's what family and friends are supposed to do, isn't it.