Lately I’ve had some impromptu teaching gigs and I’ve never been more thankful for my writer’s toolbox (which I lovingly call the ORACLE).  The ORACLE contains tons of writing games and exercises and as you can see from the picture, it’s already overflowing.  Even so, I can never seem to have enough writing exercises.  There’s always room for more.

The ORACLE includes:

• Image file
• Kaleidescope
• Dice
• Postcards
• Writing Block Book (my own design)
• Mini plastic take-out container with random words in it
• Fairytale cards
• Paint chips
• Creative Whack Pack by Roger Von Oech
• Brain Book

The ORACLE Annex (AKA the bookshelf) stores additional items that don’t fit in the ORACLE. 

These are:

• The Mysteries of Harris Burdick by Chris Van Allsburg
• Faces by François and Jean Robert
• The 3 A.M. Epiphany and The 4 A.M. Breakthrough by Brian Kiteley
• Now Write! edited by Sherry Ellis

Searching through my writer’s toolbox and scrounging around for good exercises got me thinking.  I began to wonder: what’s in everybody’s writer’s toolbox?

This weekend, I took an overnight trip to Nashville, TN for a friend’s wedding and *gasp* I did not bring my laptop.  It made sense, after all.  I was going to be gone for less than 36 hours and while being away from my computer should be no big deal, I must admit I had some trepidation.

First, this was going to be a whole day and a half with no email.  What if something happened and everybody else knew about it, except me?  Also, no web browser to ask for directions when I took a wrong turn in a Nashville suburb while looking for said wedding.  (Three times this happened–we made it to the wedding 30 seconds before the procession started.)  And of course, no FaceBook where I would stealthily be able to look up people I saw at the wedding if I couldn’t, for the life of me, remember their names.

But the biggest problem had nothing to do with lack of internet.  Alas, it was lack of word processor that had me freaking out.  And yet, though I am loathe to admit it, this has been one of the most productive weekends–both in terms of writing and generating ideas–that I’ve had in a long time.

Which got me thinking about this idea of computer deprivation.  Sometimes all the technology in our lives stifles our ability to think creatively.  This isn’t because computers are evil and all technology is sending our culture straight to the underworld.  Rather, computers and other electronic devices simply train our minds to think in only one direction: forward.  When we’re browsing through the internet or looking for files in a computer, one click leads to another, which leads to another, and another.  Even if the cognitive path squiggles around or comes full circle, the direction of motion is always the same.  Computers train us to look for the next step in the path, but sometimes the path can be limiting.

But what if instead of following the path, we step on the grass and cut across the lawn?  What if instead of thinking only forward, we think sideways, or backwards, or up and down?  Someday, perhaps there will be computers that allow us to think this way and that mimic the beautiful, disorganized thing that is the human mind, but for now the best solution may be simply to turn the computer off.

My challenge to you is this: give yourself the gift of one computer-free day (or if you’re really brave, a computer-free week) and see what crazy connections and wild ideas come up when your mind isn’t always moving in that same forward direction.

As for me?  Who knows.  Maybe I’ll do this every weekend.

Last week Lady Glamis at The Literary Lab raised an interesting question about critique and how many times we writers are conditioned to look only for the negative.

In response to this thread, I started pondering how we critique not just other writers’ work but our own.  Just as I am a believer in focusing first on big picture issues when I read pieces from other writers, I find that approach also works best when revising my own work.

As a former student of psychology, I’m reminded of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs, where humans will fill their most basic needs first (food, water, shelter) before trying to fill needs that fall higher in the pyramid (love, companionship, success).  My own revision system falls into a similar pyramid shape:

Character: Whose story is it?  This is the most basic part of the book.  If you don’t have a compelling character, then the rest of the pyramid will fall apart.  (Notice I say “compelling” character and not “sympathetic” or “likable,” but that is a topic for another post.)

Plot/Story: What story are you going to tell?  Now that you have a character in place, the character needs to want something and that want will drive the story.  Things need to happen to get in the way of that want.  There needs to be conflict.

Structure, POV and Voice: How are you going to tell this story?  These are the main choices you make when you decide how to tell the story.  The voice of the narrator ties in directly with point of view and the structure you choose for the story.

Description and Dialogue: Decisions made at this level are less about “big picture” and are smaller in scale.  At the same time, though, they are not as nitty-gritty as the revisions at the top of the pyramid.  Description and dialogue also tie in closely with character development and elements of story so this is why they are in the middle of the pyramid, serving as a bridge between the macro decisions at the bottom and micro decisions at the top.  Description and dialogue also clue in the reader to Where and When the story is taking place.

Theme: This is all about the Why.  Why are you telling this story?  Why do we want to read it?  Usually these answers only come together once you’ve written a draft, maybe two, which is why theme falls at the top of the pyramid.  Very rarely do stories start with a theme and grow from there.

Language:  At the very top we have the micro decisions.  Word choice.  Grammar.  Spelling.  Small stuff.  Just because the writing might not be super-smooth on the language level doesn’t mean it can’t shine at the character or plot levels.  What I try to stress to writers is that the bottom of the pyramid is the hard part.  If you nail that, you’ll have done the hard work.  Language is just a matter of using spell check and keeping a copy of Strunk & White’s Elements of Style on your desk.  And getting a trusted friend to proofread when you’re through.

Basically, revision all comes down to this:

Don’t sweat the small stuff until you’ve dealt with the big stuff.

Some time ago, I took a fabulous workshop where the teacher talked about the ABC’s of plot.  She broke it down like this:

A is for Action:  Start your story with some sort of action to get your readers hooked.
B is for Background:  Give your readers the info they need to understand what’s going on.
C is for Conflict:  What’s at stake for your characters?  What’s the conflict?
D is for Development:  This is where you develop the story and build up toward your ending.
E is for Ending:  Which consists of the 3 C’s:

Crisis — the events leading up to the climax
Climax — the big showdown
Consequences — the denouement, or how things tie together

Lately my writing group has been grappling with this idea of the pitch.  Some of us need to come up with a pitch for conference purposes, others just need a Cocktail Party Pitch so they have a soundbite ready for when friends or family ask the inevitable: “So what’s that novel of yours about?”

Which brings us to the heart of this post.  I believe that writing a pitch for your book isn’t all that different from the plot formula above.  I would make only one change: instead of 3 C’s, I think a good pitch has only one C… a Cliffhanger.

Let’s try out this formula on my all-time favorite book: Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen.

When a rich gentleman, Mr. Bingly, moves into the neighborhood Elizabeth Bennet’s mother is determined that he must marry one of her daughters, and does everything she can to introduce her daughters to him. (A)  While Elizabeth knows that if she and her sisters do not marry they risk living a life of poverty, she is humiliated by her mother’s antics. (B)  To everyone’s delight, Mr. Bingly appears to take an interest in Jane, Elizabeth’s older sister, but his meddling sisters and proud and reticent friend, Mr. Darcy, do everything they can to keep Mr. Bingly from proposing to Jane.  As Elizabeth is thrown into the same circles as Mr. Darcy, she takes every opportunity to find fault with him (C).  Over time, though, Elizabeth sees Mr. Darcy in different contexts and her opinion of him begins to change.  Just when she thinks she may have feelings for him, a shameful event strikes her family.  Mr. Darcy leaves suddenly and Elizabeth assumes that her family scandal is the cause (D).  Will Elizabeth’s family recover from this dishonor and will she and Mr. Darcy end up together? (E)

A Few Notes:
For each letter we have one sentence, forcing the summary to stay short and sweet.  The exceptions, of course, are C and D because they are a little more complex and require a little more information; but even in those sections, we don’t get more than 2-3 sentences tops.

Notice also that the primary focus of the pitch is on Lizzy and Darcy.  Jane is the only other sister mentioned, and only in passing.  While the Lydia and Wickham do play a significant role in the novel, their subplot is only described in vague terms and their names are never mentioned.  The focus stays on how the scandal affects the Lizzy-Darcy relationship.

The Results:
In this exercise, we get to the heart of the story, stripping away all side-plots or tangents.  Those familiar with Pride and Prejudice might ask: Where’s Mr. Collins?  What about Lady Catherine?  And why don’t we see more of Elizabeth’s sisters?  The answer is that these characters and story threads, though interesting, are not the main focus of the story.

When you have only a handful of sentences to capture the essence of your novel, you need to stick to the central plot.  This can be especially difficult in novels with intricate plots or many subplots (try doing this exercise on George Eliot’s Middlemarch and you’re likely to give yourself a migraine).  It’s equally challenging to write a pitch for a novel that is very character-driven and where plot is sparse.  In that case, I think your best bet is to think of character-development as being the protagonist’s inner journey.

While this approach may seem a bit formulaic, it is a good starting point and can lead to a strong pitch after some revision.