They say there are two types of writers, planners and pantsers.

Planners meticulously write out every setting, every character sketch, every plot point before the write “Chapter One” at the top of the first page.

Pantsers sit down with a blank page and write until it starts to make sense, and then the re-write what they’ve spewed forth into a story.

In reality, most people are somewhere in between. Some come up with detailed plots only to change them when they start to write. Others come up with a few milestones they want to hit along the way and then just go for it.

Personally, I’ve always been more of a pantser. I’ve usually written without any kind of plot or plan. Sometimes I have a vague idea of how I want things to end, and sometimes I don’t. This is, honestly, lots of fun. I will never forget the joy I felt the first time Vinnie hosted a party.

On the other hand, Pantsing is also my worst enemy. I get halfway through a novel, and I get stuck. This happens often. Way too often. I have restarted the sequel to Minion of Evil three times, and I still haven’t finished it–not that fun and not very productive.

In full disclosure, I did try to plan once before, and it was horrible. Everything fell apart by Chapter Two.  But I’m crossing my fingers and hoping this was just a fluke.

So, lately, I’ve been thinking that despite my previous failure, it’s time to refine my writing style, incorporating more planning. I may not run into as many happy surprises, but I may finish more books. Over the next few weeks, I’m going to try to become a reformed pantser.

Like many authors, I’ve spent time, some might say an excessive or obsessive amount of time, studying what makes writing effective. One of the sources that I used to read religiously was the blogs of literary agents, as they were the gatekeepers and the masters of slush reading.

One such agent said that the first thing she looked for were “that gnats,” unnecessary use of the word “that” as a filler. You might have noticed that I’ve been purposefully leaving them in and marking them for emphasis.

I soon realized that I used that gnats almost constantly both in my written and everyday speech–maybe this is a midwestern thing, New Yorkers are just to busy to use an extra that here and there. So, I’ve slowly been training myself, especially in the editing process to find that gnats.

So, yesterday, I posted about my new book on Facebook, and as I was going through my feed today I found this in the blurb I had written:

Some people would say that Nick Baker has it all: the trust fund, the family connections, and the country club membership.

Oops.

Jed Peterson and Jim Hines — I guess I should get a picture of myself and Jim.

So, today, Jim C Hines was writing about the ethics of authors reviewing other authors.

I was thinking about this the other day. I noticed almost all of my GoodReads ratings are five stars. I started reviewing my ratings and realized something about myself. If I’m not beta reading for a friend, I tend not to finish books that I don’t fall in love with.

If I am beta-reading, and I really like a piece, I assume the final form is going to be at least as good, and I’ll rate it without reading the final version. Probably the only exception to this is pieces by Dylan Moonfire and Adam Whitlatch, both of which I usually end up reading one last pass of the final version.

I probably recite passages from Birthright and Sand and Blood in my sleep.

If I am beta-reading, and I’m lukewarm about a piece, I feel like it’s unfair to leave a rating, as often a few minor tweaks can make things come together. Then, I usually don’t bother to read the final, because I didn’t go nuts over the beta-read.

That being said, a fair review is a fair review. If another author read my work and genuinely didn’t like it. I can’t be upset if they give me a low rating.

Although, I should admit that I have held back a bad reviews. I usually do this  because I liked the author and didn’t want to offend; or because I didn’t like the author, and I was afraid I would not be able to maintain my objectivity.

Okay, I haven’t really made a horrible mistake, but saying I “almost” made a mistake doesn’t sound nearly as dramatic.

I was looking for some quotable poem for new new manuscript, and I found the perfect thing, however, I knew I’d have to check on the copyright status. In today’s world, figuring out the actual date a work goes into the public domain can be complicated.

O Venus, beauty of the skies,
To whom a thousand temples rise,
Gaily false in gentle smiles,
Full of love-perplexing wiles;
O goddess, from my heart remove
The wasting cares and pains of love.

So, I looked up the publication date of the poem, and found out it was attributed to a poet named Sappho in 600 BC. And here’s where I almost made my mistake. I stopped there.

It wasn’t until I was editing my piece later that I started to think there was something wrong with my logic. Sure, the original was thousands of years old… but wouldn’t the original have been written in ancient Greek?

So, this becomes a translation, and translations, even translations of things like the bible have their own copyright rules. They can be considered derivative works and come under the original work’s copyright, but they can also, if suitably different be considered a separate work, entitled to copyright protection. So, I had to find the history of the translation and determine its copyright status. Fortunately, this particular translation was done by Ambrose Philips in 1711.

So, disaster has been avoided. However, I was lucky in this case. While the piece seems antiquated, it could have easily been done in the 1960s and still have copyright protection.

Tim Leach wrote this on Reddit today, and it is awesome.

The evolution of the writer usually goes like this:

• Beginners tell too much. They get told over and over again about show don’t tell.
• Amateurs show too much. They no longer tell anything, and so everything is over described.
• Professionals know when to tell and when to show.

“Show don’t tell” is not an overrated rule, as it really is a major weakness that’s almost universal to up and coming writers, so beating people over the head with it usually yields some results. But telling has its place too – it’s punchy, effective, and can be evocative if the voice that’s doing the telling is strong enough.

The rule I do try to stick to with “show don’t tell” is to apply it to character emotions. I try never to write “Dave was angry”, “Jeff was scared”, but to show them being angry or scared. You’ve also got to be careful about using tell too much for exposition, it can be very lazy and super dull. But yes, telling is a useful skill. Sometimes…

TL:DR – Show is usually better than tell, except when it’s not. Sorry that’s contradictory. Writing is hard.

This Toulouse-Lautrek is here for no other reason than I am currently reading Christopher Moore’s brilliant book Sacre Bleu

So, I’ve been working on a sequel to MINION OF EVIL. This is not the first time I’ve started this particular book, but I’ve discovered that sequels can be difficult. If you’ve already saved the world and got the girl, what else is there?

However, I have gotten a full 25,000 words into this book, meaning that I can probably proclaim I’ve made it through to the middle. This is a good thing. If I make it to the middle, I can usually muddle through to the other side. In a year or two of serious redrafting, I may even have a readable book. For me, this is an exciting thing. I like finishing manuscripts.

Lately, I’ve had a lot of trouble producing new fiction. And I’m beginning to believe I know why. I used to write to the end of the chapter. If something silly occurred to me, it would go in. But lately, I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about the end of the book, and the arc of the story vs. the arc of the character.

At first, I believed these deep thoughts to be an indicator that I was arriving at the next level, as a more mature, tested writers. But lately, they have been weighing heavily on my, like an albatross around my neck.

That’s cool though. It’s all about the learning process. And it’s nice to know that I still know practically nothing this far into the game.