How to Write a Novel--or Not

I've been reading a lot of raves lately for Scrivener Publishing Software--apparently it allows you to write a document in chunks, lay them out in any order, integrate in various ways, and get an overview whenever you want. You can keep track of chapters, scenes, page numbers, etc.Other writers have been using Excel for those same features for a long time. I'm bumfuzzled. By the time I figured all that out (I don't master new software easily), plotted out the scenes, etc., I suspect I could have written the novel twice. I am also puzzled by story boards, white boards, etc. where people keep track of each scene and character. Too much trouble.
It's probably the reason I'm a minor novelist at best, but I just sit down and write. Granted, I have a very rough outline--maybe a page of handwritten disconnected notes--before I begin. But then it's important to me to get a first sentence that gives me some momentum and propels me into the story. I may go back and rewrite that opening ten times, but it gets me going.
And then as new ideas occur to me--they appear all the time as I write--I think, "Hmmm, if this happens, I have to go back and change that." The find function in Word does that for me. When I get all through I read for plot inconsistencies--and find many--among other things. And off it goes to a beta reader, who will find more inconsistencies and problems.
I'm trying to be a storyteller, not to write belles lettres, let alone the Great American Novel. But I will always remember the examples of two Western storytellers I was privileged to know. One was Dorothy Johnson--if you're old enough, you may remember A Man Called Horse, The Hanging Tree, or "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance." Dorothy had a long career in New York and was there during WWII. After she returned to her native Montana, she worked on a novel, never published, called "The Unbombed," about New York's preparations for the enemy bombs that never hit the city. Once she wrote me that she'd just had a terrible shock: she'd just found out that the man she thought was going to be the hero of the novel was going to be killed in the war. Would that have happened with Scrivener or Excel? Somehow I think not.
And Elmer Kelton always preached to listen to your characters and they'll tell you what's going to happen. He started out to write a novel about a buffalo soldier--it became The Wolf and the Buffalo--and he incorporated a Comanche chief as a minor character. But the more he wrote, the more that Comanche demanded equal time, until the novel paralleled the disappearing lifestyle of the Comanche and the rising circumstances of the buffalo soldier, once a slave. In another instance, he sat at the bedside of his dying father and began to write about his father's young cowboying days, and, to paraphrase, as he wrote the characters took hold of the story like a horse takes the bit in its teeth and ran away with it. The words--and the tears--flowed. That became The Good Old Boys, adapted for TV by Tommy Lee Jones. Both are among the classic works of Kelton's large canon.
To me, that lesson about listening to your characters is about spontaneity in storytelling. It just doesn't happen if yoiu have all those moveable scenes and chapters and characters. A story flows--or it doesn't.
In a way I envy my fellow storytellers who can use these programs to plot--it must make the first draft a lot less painful. But they don't have the fun that I recently did of getting almost to the end of a novel still wondering how it was going to turn out, who is the villain, who the victim? And then--Eureka.
I think I'm old-fashioned.

Waking and Sleeping

In the last four days I've written about 8,000 words on my novel. I have, as they say, gotten into it. This morning, I woke up at 2:30 from a sound sleep but could not get back to sleep. I was living out scenes from the novel in my head, working out the future plot, even figured out how the protagonist saves herself  from the villain. For too long I kept abandoning this novel, then coming back to it. I think because the world of it didn't seem real. Now it does, and the characters do--this late in the manuscript (54,000 words, thank you very much), they're taking on personality and depth. When I do that first rewrite I'll be more confident about who they are. I want to toss the world aside and write, write, write, but of course I can't do that, particularly not this week. My horoscope this morning said the world would keep me very busy in the beginning of the week and then leave me hanging. My calendar indicates just the opposite. Anyway, having my muse talk to me is great, but I'd like some sleep, please. The late Dorothy Johnson (A Man Called Horse, The Hanging Tree, etc.) used to say if her muse wasn't talking to her she might as well go scrub windows. One day she wrote that she'd just had an awful shock: she was working on a novel about NYC during WWII, called The Unbombed, because New Yorkers always lived in fear of bombings. She wrote she'd had a terrible disappointment: her muse had just told her that the man she thought was going to be the hero was going to be killed in the war. I know the feeling--the villain in my current work-in-progress has changed three times, but I think now I finally know who it is.
I am still exporing the possibility of self-publishing this novel, since the others haven't sold. It's a whole new world out there, and self-publishing has lost its stigma, may have some distinct advantages.
Lovely dinner tonight with old friends, couples who knew each other from way back but don't visit often. Nice to bring people together. The two men were both Air Force pilots so there was a lot of flying talk, and one is a docent at the Carter where Kathie plans to volunteer, so they all had a lot to talk about. My meatballs were good--sitting overnight really did improve them, softened what I thought was too strong a tomato paste taste--and the mashed potatoes with spinach and gruyere were wonderful. For an appetizer, I served store-bought hummus--I've found a brand I really like, Cedar's Original, and I plopped a couple of defrosted cubes of pesto down in the middle. Great combination. Kathie brought chocolate cake for dessert, so it was a festive and good meal.
Nice day. Much better than yesterday. And I did write 2,000 words. Moving on.

A sharp right turn in the middle of writing a novel

Not many people remember Dorothy Johnson these days, but she was the master of the short story, most often about the American West, and the author of such stories as "A Man Called Horse" and "The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance." Years ago I was privileged to call her my friend and to correspond with her. In her later years (she hated the term octogenarian, which she said sounded like a scaly reptile with a skin disease), she was writing about New York City during WWII and the constant alert for fear of the bombing attack that never came. She titled it "The Unbombed," and I suspect she never finished it before she died. But one day she wrote me that she'd just had a terrible shock. She'd found out that the man she thought was going to be the hero of her book was going to be killed in the war. Who told her? Her muse. Dorothy was a firm believer in listening to your muse as you write.
Something similar happened to me today. When I woke up this morning I lay in bed a long time, plotting in my head the end of the novel I'm about halfway through. But I never was really comfortable about the murderer--he's a nice guy, and I hated to turn him into a villain. I finally made it to my computer to write down all the stuff in my head and happened to read an old file called rough ideas or something like that. In that, the villain was a totally different person and had a much more believable motive. So now I'm doing an abrupt right turn. I hadn't gotten far enough into the end that this is a serious problem, but it does call for minor revision. But I feel a lot better about the whole thing now. There are a lot of possible suspects, but now I know who really did it. Most writers will tell you to listen to your characters and they'll tell you what's going to happen, and I've had that experience more than once. I remember a writer who taught a seminar at TCU and said, "What is this nonsense about listening to your characters? I'm the author. I tell them what to do." I didn't much like his books.
My mystery of the day: how can you put four pillow cases in the laundry and only get three back? There's a poltergeist in my house!

A signing, more high on the hog, creativity and weather

If you're in the Granbury area--or the Metroplex--on Saturday October 17, you might want to wander down Hwy. 377 to Granbury, where they'll have their Harvest Moon Festival. Craft booths all around the courthouse, and stores lining the squares will have specials. I'm going to be signing books from 1:00 - 3:00 p.m. at Almost Heaven, a heavenly (okay, I couldn't resist) gift and accessories shop owned by my friends Linda and Rodger Preston. I'd love to see you.
Would you believe I had a lobster for dinner tonight and it only cost me one point? That's for one-half cup of lobster meat, and I figure by the time you dig out the claws and get maybe eight bites out of the tail, you've had one-half cup. I didn't count the butter, but how much do you put on those few piece of lobster? Had a green salad with it, and loved the whole thing. For lunch I had a scoop of really good chicken salad and some asparagus spears, so my count for the day is really good. On the other hand, yesterday I had half an egg salad sandwich with a cup of split pea soup--it was a damp, cool day, and I wanted comfort food. That meal cost me points big time. A whole egg salad sandwich is 11 points--go figure! I had gained 1.5 lbs. this morning, but I figure it's due to decadent lunches Monday and Tuesday plus that egg salad yesterday. Got to do better, though the week ahead is filled with entertaining, and I'll have a hard time keeping my point count down. When I reeled off my schedule to Betty tonight over our lobster, she asked, "What is wrong with you? You've got to stop being so social!" Hey, I'm retired! I can do it.
Ah Texas weather--Tuesday and this morning, stepping outside felt like stepping into a hot, wet blanket. My windows were all steamed over from the inside. Tonight, though, storms are predicted--some fairly heavy, with golf-ball size hail (I've never seen it that big but am afraid to mock it for fear tonight is the night I'll see it). Then cold--down to the 40s tomorrow night and only into the 60s for the weekend. I'm glad after all that I planned a fall menu for my houseguests this weekend--I had some doubts this morning when I stepped into that fog.
I'm reading The Artist's Way by Julia Cameron and though I haven't gotten very far into it, I'm already finding it helpful. She's the one who recommends the three pages of writing first thing in the morning. I've been doing that, and I find it helpful and informative. I don't want to say it's transformed my life--not yet, anyway--but I am surprised at some of my thoughts. And reading just the introduction and first chapter to the book has given me lots of things in my life to ponder. I really think my creativity has been blocked in recent years, and I'd like to get it back. I had lunch with my friend Fred yesterday and he, a scholar, said he doesn't believe in inspiration. As a fiction writer I do but I think you have to be open enough to hear those voices in your head, and stress and tension and responsibilities can silence them. Anyway that's the spirit in which I'm approaching this book. I always remember the late Elmer Kelton talking about a book where a character he thought would be minor ran away with the story, and Elmer had to follow. I've known other authors who said, "Listen to your characters. They'll tell you what's going to happen." Dorothy Johnson (author of "A Man Called Horse" and "The Death of Liberty Valance") used to talk about the novel she worked on about New York City during WWII, when everyone expected the city to be bombed. One day she wrote me that she'd had the most awful shock, she'd just learned that the man she thought would be the hero of her story was killed in the war.