Rewriting » DarrellHardy.com

World of Conflict

How can something be utterly fascinating and yet boring? When there’s no drama, no suspense; when there’s no conflict.

I’ve seen my share of nature documentaries. (“Look, kids! Lemurs!”) I’ve yet to see one that’s just a recitation of facts and figure, presented in conjunction with supporting images on the screen. (“The lemur is found on three continents. It can kill with its eyes. It eats the following insects: ants, beetles, cockroaches…”)

Instead, it’s always a story. It’s always the same story (baby animal survives predators and other hardships to grow into an adult and have its own adorable animal babies), but it’s a story all the same.

Most importantly, it’s a story with conflict:

Lemur versus cannibal siblings!
Lemur versus hard winter!
Lemur versus potential mates who just need some time to find themselves, thanks anyway for trying!
Lemur versus lemur-eating pterodactyls!

My point is this: Facts without conflict can engage you on an abstract, intellectual level. But inject some drama into those facts, and now they engage you on the visceral, emotional level as well.

Without conflict, you know. With conflict, you care.

This matters a lot when it comes to world-building.

Whether for fiction or games, if you’re building a new world, that world should engage the audience on an emotional level. You’re not just describing the setting, you’re selling it. If you want the audience to buy into your world for an extended period of time, you need them to care about it. There needs to be conflict.

I’m preaching to myself here, folks.

I love world-building. I enjoy putting twists on familiar tropes, piecing together the elements in a way that makes logical sense yet is something we haven’t seen before. (“The elves live in a vast network of underground caves that they carved out with their own acidic saliva! Now I’ll write up a dozen elven rituals based around acid spit!”)

But too often, when I’m done, what I have is fascinating, but boring. Guided by my words, the reader could fit in very well with the acid elves (for example)… but he wouldn’t want to. Because there’s no conflict. Because the world is boring.

And that, brothers and sisters, is why we have second drafts.

Now the elves are split into factions, and squabble over acid-spit religious differences. They compete for space and food in the caverns with the acid-dwarves, who claim the underground as their ancestral right. A sub-group of elves is born without acid glands and prefer to live on the surface. They’re rejected as traitors by most but secretly worshiped by others.

Now it might be exciting to hang out with these guys. Now I want to roll up an acid-elf character, or read about the adventures of an acid-elf zealot. Now there’s drama.

Now it’s not boring any more.

Have tips to make world-building more exciting? Share them in the comments, and we’ll all be a bit wiser.

Past Tension, Future Perfection

A week ago, I decided to do something about the pile of unedited novel manuscripts slumped on my hard drive, staring up at at me with their sad puppy-dog eyes. I publicly proclaimed that I would take one of these neglected beauties out, give it solid re-write, and try to find it a good home.

The first step to rewriting is to do nothing. Just let the text lie fallow for a while so you can gain some distance and come at it as a reader, not as the person who just poured blood into every word on the page.

Since the printout of the manuscript I chose has literally been sitting in a box in the basement for the past year, I think it’s safe to say, in regards to the first step, “Check.”

The second step (for me, at least) is to do pass on the general writing. Yes, we’ll fix a few typos and spelling mistakes here, but it’s mostly about sentence structure and word choice — steps 3 & 4 from the guide I posted last week.

When I pulled the manuscript from its temporary tomb, I was surprised to see that it was already covered in pen marks. Had I already started this step? I thumbed through the whole thing: there was blue ink all the way to the end. Thank you, Past Me!

But when I got to the computer, I realized that Past Me was a lazy editor who had marked up the hard copy, but never actually implemented any of the changes. As it turns out, this is actually a good thing. Instead of moving on to the next step, I have to carefully re-read the manuscript for the first time in a year in order to insert the edits from the printout. This has led to finding things to fix that Past Me overlooked (that incompetent buffoon!), but this time I’m putting them straight into the soft copy.

That’s where I am at the moment. I’m about a quarter of the way through the manuscript, and have been pleasantly surprised at how not-terrible it is. I do fear that I have too many characters (when the text literally says, “…and there were two others, but she couldn’t even get their names” you might have a problem), but that’s what the literary device is for: killing darlings.

But I’m nowhere done yet. Anyone have any good rewriting links? Tips from your own past self? Words of wisdom shared by ethereal beings that came to you in a dream? I’ll take it all!

After the Writing, the Real Work Begins

I’m not the best at rewriting. It’s not that I’m so impressed with my own words that I’m loathe to change a thing, it’s just that I’m sick of looking at them. I’ve got three NaNoWrMo manuscripts sitting here, all done, all waiting for me to rip the skin from their flesh and start rearranging their vital parts, but just thinking about it makes me feel tired.

Yes. I know. Lame. Lame. So very lame.

I am ashamed.

Why do I share this shame with you, you may ask? So that by doing so, I may publicly commit to rewriting one of these things such that I can submit it for publication confident it won’t make some poor intern’s eyes bleed. Since I suddenly have a lot more time for such things, I really have no excuse not to dive into the rewriting process.

But I won’t be going on this adventure alone. Oh no, I’m taking you with me! Along the way, I’ll be pointing out tips and hints I’ve found useful, holes I’ve fallen into, and any dubious tricks I discover to make the journey a little less painful.

The first helpful thing I’d like to share is 10 Steps for Editing Your Own Writing on the Daily Writing Tips page. It’s a good overview of the process, and I like the idea of looking at the manuscript one part of speech at a time.

How about you, dear reader? Any great tips to share? Any links? Any words of encouragement to your fellow rewriters?