Short stories appear to have an advantage when it comes to being adapted as movies; their length lends themsevles to the needs of a film. Not only is the action kept concise, the number of characters needed is limited to just who is needed. This allows filmmakers to keep the budget under control. However, as seen in Lost in Translation, conciseness doesn’t necessarily lead to an accurate adaptation. Studios often take the core concept and expand it in a different direction. The movie Real Steel is a good example. In this two-part review, Lost in Translation looks at two adaptations of one short story, MR James’ “Casting the Runes” to see how the conciseness of a short story affects how the adaptation turns out.
“Casting the Runes” was first published in 1911 and is set in an unspecified year during the Edwardian era (1900-1909). The story opens with correspondence from the Secretary of an unnamed Association rejecting the submission of The Truth of Alchemy written by Mr. Karswell, a cultist. Mr. Karswell doesn’t take rejection well, though, having written several letters to convince the Association to reconsider and finally asking who reviewed it. The Secretary doesn’t reveal who the reviewer was to Karwsell, but Mrs. Secretary is curious about the author. She discovers that Karswell also wrote History of Witchcraft a decade prior, and that the reviewer of that book, John Harrington, had died under unusual circumstances.
The reviewer of The Truth of Alchemy, Mr. Edward Dunning, though, is one of the foremost experts in the field. On one of his trips home from doing research at the British Museum, he spies an unusual ad on the window of his tram car. Investigating, he discovers that the ad is an obituary for John Harrington, with a note that “three months were allowed.” Dunning points out the ad to the conductor, who discovers that the ad is etched on the window instead of being plastered to it. The following evening, the conductor and his supervisor pay a visit to Dunning. The supervisor looked into the ad and found it wasn’t on the car at all. The conductor wanted Dunning to explain to the supervisor what was there.
Unusual happenings follow Dunning. He receives a pamphlet from a man that is the same colour as the missing ad with Harrington’s name on it the flyer. The next day, he has an encounter with Karswell, who hands him some papers. That evening, Dunning’s staff – two women working as his maids – take ill with ptomaine poisoning, caused by shellfish bought from a street vendor who only stopped at Dunning’s home. With the odd happenings, Dunning looks up Harrington’s brother, Henry. Together, they work out what happened to Harrington and what is happening to Dunning, and devise a plan to turn the tables on Karswell.
Night of the Demon was released in 1957 in the United Kingdom; with edits, the movie appeared in the US the following year as Curse of the Demon. Dana Andrews stars as Dr. John Holden with Peggy Cummins as Joanna Harrington. The movie begins with Professor Henry Harrington pleading with Karswell (Niall MacGinnis) to call off his curse. However, it’s too late for Karswell to end the curse; the runes on the parchment he gave to the professor have burned. Harrington races home, where a demon appears. While trying to escape, Harrington crashes into a electric post and dies when the wires fall on him.
On board a red-eye flight to London, Dr. Holden, a noted parapsychologist is en route to a convention about the supernatural. Holden does not believe in the supernatural, having debunked witchcraft and demonology in a book he authored. Also on board the flight is Joanna Harrington, the late professor’s niece. Holden arrives at his hotel, where a colleague confronts him and his beliefs with the account of Hobart, a farmer convicted of murder who was able to draw a fiery demon who he says was the actual killer has that appeared in many ancient civilizations. Holden then gets a call from Karswell trying to convince the good doctor to change his mind about his book. The doctor is a stubborn man.
Holden heads to the library to continue his research. While there, Karswell finds him and tries again to convince Holden to refute his previous writings. Holden stays his ground, though. Karswell hands Holden a business card and bids him a good day. Holden reads the card. Mysterious writing appears, announcing Harrington’s death and “allowed two weeks.” Holden shows the card to someone else; the writing has disappeared.
At Harrington’s funeral, Holden and Joanna meet again, and arrange to talk in private later. Once alone, Joanna reads a letter her uncle sent to her, where he believes that Karswell placed him under a curse. Holden is skeptical; death by witchcraft is something he feels he has debunked. The next day, Holden and Joanna go to Lufford Abbey, Karswell’s home, and see him performing stage magic tricks for children. Karswell shows Holden around; the two men trade barbs while discussing an ancient book and magic. The cultist also explains that Holden has until the 28th, three days hence, to live unless he refutes his findings.
Odd happenings begin. Holden’s calendar has everything after the 28th torn out. Holden finds the temperature warm when it’s chilly and cool when it’s hot. An ominous storm causes the power to fail. While discussing the situation with Joanna, Holden realizes he had received something from Karswell. In his briefcase, Holden finds a strip of paper with runes drawn on it mixed in with his documents. The strip flies out of his hand; Holden blames the wind but even after he closes the window, the strip keeps trying to fly into the roaring fireplace.
Holden’s investigations lead him to Stonehenge, where he discovered the runes on the strip of paper also on one of the henges. The evidence builds, and even Holden starts believing when he is chased by a ball of fire through the woods near Karswell’s manor. Holden discovers the means to cancel the curse, through reversing it back to Karswell, and chases after the cultist.
The movie uses key points from the original story, such as the runes used for the curse and the warning to reconsider. However, the movie goes in its own direction, starting with moving the story to a contemporary period. The change in the era does have an effect; the supernatural isn’t taken as the default explanation as much in 1957 as it was in the Aughts. The new technologies discovered since “Casting the Runes” was first written also changes how the story can go. Psychology and parapsychology took over from the occultist, changing the tenor of the lead character from Dunning to Holden. Even the advent of the car has an effect; in the short story, Dunning uses the electric tram to get around while the characters in the movie drive everywhere except for the climax.
As an adaptation, Night of the Demon pads the story to fill the 95-minute run time. The point of view changes from Dunning’s in “Casting the Runes” to a broader angle, including Holden’s and Karswell’s. Again, this comes from the needs of film; the camera acts as a fourth wall, and sees everything in front of it. The demon is far more explicit in the movie; the short story has hints of the demonic around but nothing seen, while the demon has a grand entrance in the opening act as it chases Prof. Harrington.
“Casting the Runes” may be too short to adapt properly, even for a 95-minute film. The movie shows more interaction between Karswell and his victims that the short story had. Night of the Demon keeps the core of “Casting the Runes”, the key beats are hit, but the needs of a film required changes and expansion.
Next week, Part II looks at the 1979 ITV Playhouse adaptation of “Casting the Runes”.
(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, www.SeventhSanctum.com, and Steve’s Tumblr)
So lately I’ve been reviewing how I write. Let’s take a look at where we are:
When I write I usually get a big idea, then I review and record it. I figure if it’s book worthy if it fits my goals. Then, I work on an outline (in fact I usually work on that earlier as I’m inspired and want to evaluate the idea).
So how do I write? I mean I’ve talked about getting up to the point of writing. So when does it begin and do I actually get stuff done
The above activities set the stage. I got an idea, I have an outline, I have drive. All that’s left is basically cut loose.
In short, I kind of vomit onto the page.
Actually I’m being a bit facetious. I have an outline, so it’s not vomiting onto the page, it’s vomiting into a very specific framework that lets the vomit flow into the right form.
I sit down, with my outline, and following the direction it set I start writing. The Outline provides me enough information to know what to write, and I simply do it. I rarely take the time to do any editing or revision unless I have to. My goal is to get from A to B in that outline as best as I’m able, even if it’s kind of crappy, half-assed, or understandable only to me.
(In case you wonder, yes, sometimes I eventually throw things out. But stick with me – this works)
So what’s the benefit to this? Quite a bit:
Now note that this method doesn’t work as well if you don’t have an Outline. The Outline gives you a pattern to work with (so you don’t go off the rails) and making it keeps you rethinking your ideas (so they’re more instinctive to write). Going with no Outline can result in this vomit method getting pretty incoherent.
I usually set a pace for me to write – based on the aforementioned Outline – on how much I’ll do within a certain time. It doesn’t have to be good or coherent, but I cover a certain percent of an outline within a given time.
I usually block out the major tasks of my book in terms of months, and set writing goals by weeks. This way I have the large outline of the book (done in X months) and specific, actionable goals (get 15% through the Outline in a week).
I need this pacing not just to set goals, but because the outline and the “vomit method” actually mean I can overdo it. I’ve had huge writing binges of hours where the words are coming out, and after awhile I’m exhausted. I have trouble remembering writing parts of “Cosplay, Costuming, and Careers” as I was at my desk for hours. Well I think I was.
You can too easily burn yourself out doing this – and because the goal is to “get it done” you might not realize it’s happening. A 10% decline in quality when you’re using the vomit method isn’t apparent, and you won’t notice you’re real tired until your quality is much, much worse, or the words just stop. Setting the goals helps this . . . but you might just go a bit farther.
So I pace myself, but I’ve never found a perfect method. Mostly it’s a mix of gut,pre-set deadlines, and guesswork.
That may explain a few things.
Now even though I go and just vomit onto the page, I do occasionally revise the Outline itself.
At times (less and less as I go on) you may find that things didn’t quite work out the way you expected. It’s OK to revise your outline if you realize things need to be restructured. However I’d do that as a separate task or after taking a nice break from “vomit writing.”
I also have found that in a few cases of writing you have to write in detail to know just what order things should be within your outline. You may, say, know when events happen in a chapter, but only later discover the order you tell them in may need to be done differently. Sometimes orders aren’t even apparent until you start writing – which is fine (and has been something I’ve done deliberately because I had to read over a lot of research and it was easier to find a pattern while reviewing it and writing about it).
So then I’ve got a book that’s really a fast-written dump of ideas into a reasonably planned outline. It’s barely a book at all.
Which is why, after I finish up all that writing, it’s time to go editing. That’s when a book starts to become a book.
My theme for the next few generators, barring interruption or more likely distraction, is going to be food. I love to cook, and it’s only natural I apply this to the generators. Plus it’s kind of interesting to study how we name and create foods. First up is the Fusion Food Generator, now in beta, which generates assorted items, leaning towards meals and snacks. Let’s take a look at some samples, shall we?
Lamb Lasagna with Honey sauce actually sounds pretty good (especially if you worked some mint leaves in there). So, what do you think?
(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, www.SeventhSanctum.com, and Steve’s Tumblr)
Earlier I’d discussed, with inspiration from my friend Serdar, about how writers are both compelled but also need to figure what to do with their writing to be happy. Writing is an inclination – doing something with it lets it become more.
That’s really being a Writer, even if its not the kind of writer someone thinks you should be. If someone thinks you should do more than Team Fortress 2 Slashfic and you’re happy, fine. That’s what you do and it’s doing what you want.
But I’d be remiss in not addressing something else for writers. Namely that like any path, any career, anything you pursue, a larger amount of the path you follow isn’t what you think it is.
So a big part of writing is being read. If for some reason you’re writing with the intention of no one ever seeing it (say journaling or something) then this part doesn’t really apply. Otherwise I assume part of the writing drive is for someone to experience it at some point.
This means that to be a writer . . .you have to do more than write.
These are things t the very least you have to do. But if you’re truly looking to be read there’s more.
So being a writer is also about being more than a writer so you can do whatever you want with your writing – even if it’s having someone else help out.
So if you want to be a writer – your kind of writer, whatever that is – you have to figure out what else you have to be good at. Otherwise your being a “writer” is words that won’t go anywhere.
What do you have to be? Editor? Marketer? Publicity agent? Scientist? What else do you have to be to be a Writer?
It is surprising that a ground-breaking movie hasn’t been remade, 1984’s The Last Starfighter doesn’t have a remake even in pre-production. Turns out, the rights holder refuses to let the movie be remade. That still allows some speculation on how the film could be re-done today.
The plot of The Last Starfighter wasn’t complex. Alex Rogan, played by Lance Guest, is a young man living in a trailer park managed by his mother, helping her out. His responsibilities hold him back from having as full a social life with his friends, so he passes what free time he has by playing Starfighter, an arcade video game at the park’s tuck shop where players defend the Frontier from the Ko-Dan armada. To give an idea of how isolated the trailer park is, when Alex breaks the high score, the entire park is there cheering him on.
Turns out, though, that Starfighter isn’t just a video game. Starfighter is a recruiting tool, used by the Rylan Star League to find potential Starfighter recruits. Centauri, played by Robert Preston, placed the video game on Earth much like he placed a sword in a stone on the planet. Alex is contacted and taken to the Star League’s headquarters, where he meets, among others, Grig, played by Dan O’Herlihy. Alex turns down the offer, citing his responsibilities to his mother, and is returned home. While Alex gets back to his life on Earth, a traitor destroys the Star League’s HQ and most of the Gunstars and their crews. One ship remains, a prototype. Word gets to Alex, who leaves Earth to take up the mantle of the Last Starfighter to defend the Frontier from the Ko-Dan armada.
The first question when remaking or adapting is “Why?” Why remake? The Last Starfighter was one of the first movies to use computer graphics for special effects and the first to have CG effects interact with real objects, including actors. The Gunstar was solely a computer generated effect. The Death Blossom, while possible using a physical model and camera effects, is far easier to create using a computer model. The effects are showing their age, though they don’t look as old they should. A remake could use current CG effects, taking advantage of the improvements in technology and technique over the past thirty-two years.
The next thing to look at is how life, culture, and technology has changed over time. Video arcades, while still around, aren’t common. The home console has come a long way since the Atari 2600, with far better graphics and far games available. Alex is more likely to have a current generation game console in his home, reducing the need to go to the tuck shop and spend quarters on just one game. However, modern consoles connect to the Internet, allowing scores to be shared. A video game with code to call home, even a home that’s outside the solar system, isn’t far-fetched. This change doesn’t have an effect on the plot, just how it appears on screen. The only issue is that there are still areas in North America that don’t have high speed Internet access, mostly rural or isolated areas. Satellite Internet does exist, and could be a sell for a trailer park in the sticks, so, with some explanation on screen, the problem can be handwaved away.
The plot itself can stand by itself. The remake may be tempted to expand the cast a bit, add other Starfighters from Earth, turning the remake into The Last Starfighters. The core of the plot is the refusal of the call followed by answering after a disaster, and having two characters turn back on the call isn’t a problem. In the original, though, Alex realizes the scope of the danger from Grig and his willingness to die to save his family. Grig is needed as a mentor figure. Surviving the traitor’s destruction is possible, though. Adding a second Starfighter from Earth gives the remake room for diversity, with additional drama as Alex and the other Starfighter learn to work together.
If the rights were available, it wouldn’t be difficult to remake The Last Starfighter and keep the core of the movie intact. It’ll take an effort by the hypothetical filmmaker, but the simplicity of the original story will help.
(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, www.SeventhSanctum.com, and Steve’s Tumblr)
Over at his blog my friend Serdar talked about why people write. Some people, he notes, want all the benefits and the aura of being a writer . . . except they’re not too up on the “writing” part of it. To be a writer, you have to write.
And Serdar, like Brad at Hardcore Zen, and like myself note it’s a kind of compulsion.
I write because it’s something I do. I craft words, tell stories, organize information. I’m not exactly sure why – these are traits all humans have, for me and others its just pronounced. We do it more often than they do. It’s who we are.
Now you have to work on it, as Serdar notes, something not everyone else does. Me, I self-publish a lot of stuff, I’ve yet to “hit it big,” I may never do so. But that’s not my goal.
And that’s the crux of being a writer – it’s something you do, but you also apply yourself to figure what you can and should do with it. That’s where many, many writer’s break down.
Because here’s the rub – writing is not just writing nor is it just improving it – it’s knowing what the hell to do with it to reach your goals. Write all you want, but if you want to do something with it you have to ask just what your goals are.
I’ve met many people who want to write, but they want to write under highly specific conditions. They want to be a writer and be paid – but in this genre and at this pay rate and so on. No, if you want to be paid as a writer you write, and that leads you to either A) write whatever pays the bils, or B) work your butt off on your focus to become very, very good (depending what “good” is).
I’ve met people who write but for fun and occasionally wonder what more they “should” do – when maybe all you want to do is write fanfic and that’s perfectly OK. That’s good, that’s fine.
Or there’s me, who likes writing, likes helping people and cataloging knowledge, and does it as a kind of hobby that occasionally makes money. It’s a skill I like using and would like to use more, so I’m gladly learning and seeing what more I can do with it.
But that’s my schtick.
So if you want to write figure your goals and go and channel that writing into succeeding. But if you don’t do something with it, you’re never going to get much done.
(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, www.SeventhSanctum.com, and Steve’s Tumblr)
Last time we met, I discussed that a major part of my writing is actually deciding what to do write in the first place. I don’t just go “oh, I have to write this,” I ask where it fits in my larger writing career (and, occasionally, vice versa). Part of being a writer, to me, is filtering.
But at some point the time comes to Write That Book. So I write that book – by writing something else. The Outline.
Almost every large work I write I write is Outlined, often in fine detail – fiction and non-fiction. I have it broken down into major sections (often chapters) and what they’re about, and often down to individual paragraphs.
The reason for this is multifold:
As important as this is in non-fiction, a good outline is even more important in non-fiction. A large cast and large series of plot elements can easily go “off the rails” if you don’t keep track of things. Writing a book, on say, Ball-Jointed Doll clothes may require certain cases of following instructions, but tracking three battles and twelve characters across 300 pages is going to be even crazier.
I have one friend working on an utterly brilliant story involving precognition. Imagine where they’d be without an outline . . .
So, me, I outline. And what’s a good Outline? Well, my outline tells me it’s time to discuss that . . .
So what does my outline contain? Let’s look into that before I get into how I make it. It sort of makes my goals clear.
First, a good outline contains a breakdown of the various Sections of a book – often this is chapters, but in the case of fiction it may be major events or milestones. These are the “big pieces” of the book that get you from A to B, be it learning a skill or telling a tale. The various sections are
Secondly, the Major Sections are also broken down into individual pieces, the elements that make up these Really Big Things. A Chapter on, say, writing skills may cover the major skills and their role in your career. A big event in a book, say a war, may start with how characters get involved in said war, what happens at various times, and the fallout.
Each Section has a specific goal, getting from A to B. If its complex, not always clear, or needs precise pacing, I break it down further into subsections – major events, major points, etc. For my nonfiction I may go as far as to break down what each paragraph is about.
You probably realize now that my Outline is, essentially, a fractal. A Section has a start and a finish – and a goal. So does each part of it. So may each paragraph if I outline that far.
Sure this sounds like it may take time – it may or it may not (sometimes this stuff nearly writes itself). I stop when I have enough information to know I can start. You can overdo it.
When you really get “in the zone” of building the Outline, it can happen fast, it can be instinctive, and it can be powerful. You truly know your subject after awhile, and it just flows.
Let’s talk about creating it in detail.
So how do I create that outline? That . . . is both organized and not, depending on what I’m writing. There’s a few methods I use to get started, depending on what works and what my mood is. Then it’s mostly the same.
Methods to get started:
Which method works best? That’s really something you have to try for yourself – and it depends on the subject. Stories usually work with a mix of A to B or The Probe. Nonfiction works can fit any in my experience – and you may not know which is best for a subject until you fail at it once.
So once I get started, and have a basic Outline, I then review sections, figuring out what has to go in them. At this point since I know the goals of the book, I can pretty much write from A to B each section. I cover each major issue that has to be covered at the very least.
If a book is larger, I often do several “Sweeps” fro start to finish, getting the Outline straight, reviewing it, and often adding more and more detail to the book – breaking each major Section or Chapter down further and further. Sometimes, as noted I literally get to the level of figuring out what each paragraph covers.
How far do I take this? Usually “until I have enough to start writing” or “I’ll know it when I see it.” One can usually tell, instinctively, if a book is ready to go.
While doing the Outline, a few things to try out . . .
So as I work on my Outline there’s a few things I do or try out:
So once my Outline is done, I make sure to store a copy of it. Because now it’s time to start writing . . .
There’s a known issue when making a photocopy of a copy. The resolution drops; the further generations of copying from the original, the worse the resolution gets. A second season Star Trek: The Next Generation episode, “Up the Long Ladder”, uses the term “replicative fading”, applying it to the fading of DNA in clones. While the problem doesn’t appear when copying digital media – ones and zeroes don’t degrade – the idea is still key to examining adaptations. Ideally, an adaptation begins with the original work, not another adaptation. Hollywood is nowhere near ideal. There have been works that have been based on adaptations of adaptations; the Frankenstein movie is a good example, coming from stage adaptations instead of from the original Mary Shelley novel. Another good example is today’s subject, The Green Hornet.
The Green Hornet began as a radio series in 1936. Britt Reid, a millionaire playboy* and newspaper publisher, and his sidekick Kato fought crime. The twist, though, was that the Green Hornet and Kato were seen as villains by criminals and the press alike. Reid, as the Hornet, used a gas gun to subdue his foes while Kato used martial arts. The pair got around the city in Black Beauty, a heavily modified sedan. Helping the duo was Lenore Case, who provided information to Reid to help him fight crime.
The Green Hornet has since been adapted in other forms, including movie serials, comics, and a TV series. The 1966 series introduced Bruce Lee to North American audiences in the role of Kato. Van Williams played Reid. The series lasted one season, but did crossover with the 1966 Adam West Batman series. Al Hirt provided the theme music, a jazz version of “The Flight of the Bumblebee” used by the radio series. The TV series, while considered to be camp, did take itself seriously.
In 2011, Seth Rogan co-wrote and starred in a film adaptation of The Green Hornet, playing millionaire playboy Britt Reid. Jay Chou and Cameron Diaz co-starred as Kato and Lenore, respectively. The movie acts as an origin story for the Green Hornet. Britt Reid begins the film as a layabout, living off his father’s wealth. When his father dies from a bee sting, Britt inherits his publishing empire. He discovers his father’s car collection and the mechanic who maintains it, Kato. Together, they get drunk and go to cut the head of the stature of Britt’s father. During their task, they hear calls for help from a couple being mugged and go to render assistance. The police mistake them for the actual criminals, though, and the pair escape without being seen.
Back at Britt’s manor, he gets the idea to fight crime by posing as criminals, making sure that innocents couldn’t be used against them. Kato modifies one of the cars in the collection, adding weapons and gadgets to it, calling the car the Black Beauty. Britt uses the files his father had on Chudnofsky, a Russian mobster that Britt believes his father was trying to expose. Using his newspaper, the Daily Sentinel, Britt begins to publish articles about the new criminal in town, the Green Hornet. Britt uses the criminology knowledge of his new secretary, Lenore, to plan the Green Hornet’s every move, taking out a number of Chudnovsky’s operations.
Chudnovsky, however, isn’t about to let a new criminal take over any piece of his empire, and has an ace up his sleeve. After a failed attempt on the lives of the Green Hornet and Kato, though, he offers them half the city if the Green Hornet kills Britt Reid. Meanwhile, Britt discovers that his father’s death wasn’t an accident but murder. The DA tried to bribe Britt’s father into downplaying the levels of crime in the city but was refused. He offers Britt the same bribe and, when rebuffed, tries to kill the millionaire playboy using the same bee venom that killed his father. Kato arrives at the restaurant, nominally to kill Britt, but rescues him while disrupting the meet.
Britt thought ahead, though. He had made a recording of the DA’s bribe, saving it to a USB memory stick. He and Kato escape the restaurant and race to the Daily Sentinel to get it on the paper’s website. The DA and Chudnovsky chase the pair, leading to the climactic fight in the paper’s offices.
The movie stays more or less faithful to both the original radio series and the 1966 TV series. However, there is a change in tone. The radio series was a serious crime drama. The TV series, while camp, was also serious and played straight, more melodrama than crime drama, but not intentionally a comedy. The movie, though, was a straight up action-comedy. The action portion would fit in with the TV series. The comedy, though, creates a situation where the uncanny valley effect comes into play. The movie feels off, but not in any way that’s obvious, much like a too human-looking robot or animated character feels off because it doesn’t quite have the proper responses expected. If the movie were less like the TV series while still using comedy, the problem would be obvious. Likewise, if the comedy was toned down, it’d feel closer to the original and the TV adaptation. The movie, though, hits a not-quite-right tone; it gets most of the details near-perfect, but the comedy becomes dissonant**. Thus, the movie isn’t a bad adaptation, in fact, it comes close to being ideal, except for the dissonance.
The movie adaptation of The Green Hornet shows some of the problems of copying a copy. The introduction of the comedy aspects threw off an otherwise near-perfect adaptation. Ignoring the comedy portions, though, the movie does adapt the TV series well.
* It seems that the best superpower to have is incredible wealth. While Bruce Wayne, aka Batman, is the best known millionaire playboy, other mystery men with the same background include Oliver Queen (aka the Green Arrow), Lamont Cranston (the Shadow), and, Tony Stark (Iron Man).
** It took several viewings and chatting with other members of Crossroads Alpha to figure out why the movie didn’t feel right despite hitting all the right notes, thus causing last week’s hiatus.
So the Food Generator is getting close to a Beta release. How does this look?
I’m pretty pleased with it. Some more setup and vocabulary is needed, but I’m pretty happy with it. It sounds real.
If not always appetizing.
(This column is posted at www.StevenSavage.com, www.SeventhSanctum.com, and Steve’s Tumblr)
So last we met I talked about how I got my ideas – which was usually “a lot of them,” aided by recording them in a book that I reviewed regularly. This usually left me with more than enough Big Ideas to do books with.
But if you have a hundred ideas or one – how do I know what to write? I have limited time. I have to pick between Big Ideas.
Thats why I have The Goals and The Plan.
So when you choose what to write, you have to ask what is the role of writing in your life. That helps you select what to write.
I have specific Goals set out for my writing career, goals that have evolved over time as my life has changed. My first book was an attempt to reach out and help fellow geeks with careers. My current goals are to expand as a writer, broaden what I do, and make writing an integral part of my life and career.
Having goals is great because it lets me evaluate if a book meets them – or if it’s the kind of Big Idea that means I have to rethink my goals. After all, if I suddenly find that I am compelled to write a fantasy novel as opposed to another nonfiction work, maybe there’s something to pay attention to. Either way you should have goals as a writer and evaluate how your Big Ideas work with them.
My goals are also part of A Plan. I know what books I want to write when, in what order, for what reason. Lest that seem a bit over-organized, imagine if you were writing a fantasy trilogy and you get the idea – you do need a Plan if you’re going to write multiple things and build any kind of writing career.
The Plan can also change as my life changes, as goals shift, etc. I don’t revise it lightly, but as I review it weekly (to know what to work on) monthly (to evaluate progress and think of the future) and quarterly (to evaluate it a year out) I may find things have to change. That’s fine. The Plan has to help me reach my Goals.
An example? I was actually going to be working on a Project Management book while some other books were being edited. I realized I was too overloaded – and the edited books would come down on me like a ton of bricks when delivered. I could have easily have added something, or reshuffled the order, or done something else – instead I chose to delay that book.
Another example? Several times I’ve had to rearrange the schedule of the books I was working on due to various reasons. That happens as well, that’s life – but I knew why they were changing and what the impact to the timeline was.
As I’m quite organized, my plan even contains estimated times to write, edit, format, and publish. That lets me evaluate what I’ll be doing when, my time commitments – and if they’re worth it. You may or may not go that far.
One important note? I’ve never, in memory, dropped an idea I’d started. Usually by the time I’ve started a book I’ve pretty much decided to do it. I figure unless you truly have to quit that’s a good policy – sticking too something is important.
My Big Ideas are worked into a Plan, so I know what to write, when to write, and even how long it’ll probably take. When I do my usual planning sessions, be it for a week out, a month out, a quarter out, or a year out, I know what I’m doing when.
I can literally say “OK, this is the day or week I start this book” and go for it.
That might sound a bit mechanical, a bit uninspiring – but it actually helps. I’m always reviewing my ideas, always aware of what’s coming, so I never quite loose the inspiration. At the same time as I have a plan I worry less, I know how long things take – I can bring the idea to life with minimal distraction and maximum effect.
So, next we’ll talk about what happens when I start a project.