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Creative Process

What’s a creative process? Well, if you need hourly caffeine intake, that’s creative process. If you need to write your story from end to beginning, that’s creative process. If you need to stand on your head to get the brain juice flowing… that’s just weird, but I suppose that’s creative process too. Basically, anything that enables you to effectively siphon what’s in your head into written material is a component in your personal creative process.

Naturally that means some people have awesome creative processes, where they both channel their imaginative and productive abilities and are able to pound great writing out. Some peoples’ creative processes are slower, more procrastinating, and even if they stay true to their imagination and what they love, they don’t get much done. I’m pretty sure that’s always been me.

Even when I was little, I loved to write. I’m talking probably 6-years-old and up. I remember the first story I really sat down and tried hard to write (on paper); it was called Wally The Waterbug, and it wasn’t a comic, it was a written story. He walked across the road, almost got ran over by a car, and got flung up into the bed of a truck. After the truck pulled into the garage, he got flung into the house somehow (repetitive flinging, I know—I was 6 or 7) where he fell into the cracks of a keyboard. I never got any further, but the idea was that kilobytes and megabytes (in the form of Pac-Man-esque evil creatures) then would chase him around trying to eat him. This poor waterbug clearly had a very upsetting life, and I don’t think the story had much purpose beyond that, but hey.

Imagination is great and all, but if this happens to you, call a doctor. (Image by xbooshbabyx @ devART.)

The reason for the useless trip down memory lane is to highlight the birth of my creative process. I started on something, got bored, and never touched it again. Totally understandable for a little kid, but the problem is, I did that same thing for the next decade or so. I’d start writing something (usually fan-fiction about whatever I happened to be into at the time), and would quickly grow tired of the project before moving onto something else. My creative process was a rather nasty cocktail of procrastination, impatience, and boredom.

So how did I kick it? I didn’t. Well, I did, but bad habits are the hardest ones to kick. I think over the years I’ve gained a little more patience simply through getting older. I make a strong effort to read what I write after the editing process just to see what I’ve accomplished and say “Hey, that’s pretty darn good. This is worth continuing.” I also make sure not to embark on projects that won’t hold my interest. I wrote a short story not long ago that didn’t fall under any of the genres I love so much. It was a thriller, maybe with a little bit of a psychological element thrown in for good measure. I had an idea, and I rolled with it. I put it on paper over the course of a few days. I made sure not to let the ideas in my head grow stale. Why? That brings me to my next point.

I’m what they call a pantser. I explained the term in another one of my posts, but I’ll explain it again.

Pantser: Writes by the seat of his pants—dislikes planning and outlines.
Planner: Plans their writing ahead of time—swears by the use of outlines.

Simple enough, right? Right off the bat, you can probably pick out which one you are. Now most “novice” writers are pantsers, but many famous authors can call themselves pantsers as well. I think when a writer hasn’t developed their craft yet, and hasn’t established exactly what their creative process is, they’re a “novice”. Once you pin down those things, you’ll probably form a structural process. As in, maybe you’ll discover that sitting down and throwing all your ideas down into a document helps you move your story along faster and more effectively. But on the flip-side, many might find that they just prefer flying free. There’s no right way, only the way that works best for you.

In the past, I was young and lazy. I never made outlines, I never did any of that stuff. I just wrote when I wanted to, and ditched my work when I got tired of it. Nowadays? I still don’t use outlines. I’m not against them, but I run with a different method. I have a good memory when it comes to my stories. I know what’s going to happen and when—not because I wrote an outline of it—but because I’ve got the scenes imagined in my head. When you can see the scene in your head as a real, moving scenario, I think you’re far better off than simply referring to a quick, dead blurb of text on a scene such as “Thieves ambush the protagonist, gunfight ensues.” If it’s in your head, you can see the dust fly, smell the gunsmoke, imagine the inner thoughts of your character as he fights for his life. It’s more real, and that translates well when you actually write the scene.

That’s not to say that making use of an outline makes your writing less powerful, or simply worse. On the contrary, sometimes it helps you remember key details that would otherwise be lost. That’s why everyone’s personal creative process is different. I can use my head. I can remember. When I put something into an outline, it takes some of the life out of it, and further than that, it doesn’t allow my story to have the twists and turns and last second changes that I often incorporate. If I sat down and started outlining everything, the writing just wouldn’t be honest. That’s a problem.

Some people feel just the opposite, and that’s totally fine. In the end, you do what works for you. That’s the most important thing. Just remember not to feel bad about yourself because you don’t have some articulate, masterful process of outlining each scene, summarizing every character, etc. If your quirky process creates material that you’re proud of? Well then you’ve got nothing to worry about, friend.

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The Snowflake Method – What is it? Do I need it?

Randy Ingermanson's Snowflake Method

When it comes to writing a novel, there are a myriad and one different ways to go about it. Perhaps you’re a calculative individual, carefully outlining beginning to end of your future masterpiece. Or perhaps you’re a bit more like me, who might find a flash of inspiration, crafting an idea for something in your head and putting it down on paper; flying by the seat of your pants (as the term pantser comes from) while you paint your tale like an abstract picture.

Now, everyone has something that works for them. As is with art, one person might sketch the model of their finished product with light strokes, later erasing those guidelines and meshing out the finished product. Others might simply draw, creating exactly what comes into their head as they go. The finished result in that case might not have the flawless, mathematical proportions that some hold dear, but in the end, it might be far more creative. To some, that’s beautiful. To others, amateurish. As I’m bound to repeat in this post, to each his or her own.

Let’s bring a structured writing method into the spotlight: The Snowflake Method. If you’re an author, whether you write fiction, non-fiction, or anything in between, you’ve probably heard of this. Perhaps you’ve even used it. But for discussion’s sake, let’s pretend you’ve never heard the term in your life. This is my observations and opinions on the practice, as well as how I have seen others reactions to using it. If you’d rather hear exactly what the method entails before hearing a discussion on it, hop over here and read how it works for yourself (just be sure to come back after you’re done!).

Regardless, I’ll highlight a bit of a crash course in the ten-step process that the Snowflake Method utilizes. In short, it’s the ultimate progressively constructive way to build your novel from the ground up, from scratch. You’re starting with nothing, you’re laying down the idea, and then over the course of what will probably take a few weeks to a month, you’re slowly building the groundwork for your story. Some might be immediately turned off to that sort of commitment of time to not even writing your novel itself (I certainly was). When you’re inspired, sometimes you have to capitalize on that. When you have the idea in your head, you don’t always want to write about writing the idea later on, you want to write it now! That’s a major failing of this method, but that doesn’t make it a bad way to go about things.

Before I continue my analysis of the method, I’ll very briefly list the ten steps of Randy Ingermanson’s Snowflake Method. Ready? Go!

  1. Take an hour to write a one-sentence summary of your novel.
  2. Take another hour to expand that sentence into a summary of the novel; the setup, disasters, and ending.
  3. Take an hour to write a one-page summary of each of your major characters.
  4. Take several hours to expand each sentence of your summary paragraph into a paragraph of its own.
  5. Take a day or two to write a one-page synopsis of each of your major characters, and a half-page synopsis of the other important characters.
  6. Take a week to expand each paragraph of your story summary into a full page.
  7. Take another week to expand the character synopses into full-fledged character charts detailing everything there is to know about each character.
  8. Take your four-page story synopsis and place each scene involved into a spreadsheet list.
  9. Take each line of the spreadsheet and expand it to a multi-paragraph description of the scene.
  10. Begin writing your first draft.

Right off the bat, you can tell how intensive this is. That can be a good thing or a bad thing, depending on your preferences as a writer, and even your personality. We’re not here to debate whether the method is right or wrong, since it’s arguably the most popular method around for writing a novel. As was highlighted on Randy’s page, the directions for how the method works gets over a thousand views a day. If that’s not popular, I don’t know what is.

So let’s talk about the effectiveness of this practice. What’s good about it, what’s great about it, and what’s awful about it? Since I’m a rather positive guy (when I’m not trapped within the throes of agony and despair), we’ll start with what’s …

Great:
If you have a problem with focus; putting your mind to something and sticking with it; this method could very well be your salvation. Novels are long. Stephen King novels are longer. Who knows how long yours will be, but odds are that at some point in your unguided journey of authorial discovery, you will develop a bad case of writer’s block. The Snowflake Method is a painstaking process, and while it can be fun, it takes time. The upside to the month or so you will take to lay the groundwork for your novel is that when you finally get to writing your novel, it should come much more smoothly. While carrying out those ten steps, you’re creating the skeleton of your novel, then slowly fleshing it out. When you’re done, all you have to do is write it. It gives you a heavy dose of focus.

Good:
When it comes to characters, a lot of writers have a very hard time of making the character relatable. While they might have a good idea of the character they’re writing, and the emotions of that character, when they start writing their novel, those emotions simply don’t come across. Granted, this is my personal experience in reading, but I’d imagine many see the same thing. Utilizing the character building steps of the Snowflake Method literally drills your characters into your head. In step 3, you invite your characters over for dinner. In step 5, you let them spend the night on your sofa. By step 7, they’re literally snuggling in bed with you. This kind of extensive understanding of your characters and their emotions makes it far more likely that when you put them to paper, they will come alive. It’s not a sure thing, but it certainly doesn’t hurt.

Awful:
I’m going to choose my words carefully here. This is a timeless method, and the people who are committed to it sometimes preach its effectiveness with evangelical assurance. All the same, it’s easy for anyone to see how this method could be very counter-productive to certain writers. Let’s be honest, the entire process could take over a month. That’s a long time to be writing… about writing. While to some the process might be fun and exciting and amazing, other writers will burn themselves out with the method. The incredible idea that inspired them to write has now become a chore as they systematically carry out each step. By the time they are actually done, the passion they had for writing on their idea has dwindled. They have a model of point A to point B, not inspired, written chapters that they can look at and say “Wow, this looks good!”. To some, that’s a terrible reason for the method to be called awful, but if you’re sitting there thinking that, that’s because you’re a planner. No two writers are alike.

Since I’m an uneducated fool, I asked published author and teacher Steve Alcorn what he personally thought about the Snowflake Method. His response was:

” … You start with dramatic elements, and fill in the big plot details first, then the smaller ones. That’s really the only way to write a novel (other than simply starting at the beginning and hoping it goes somewhere). What it omits, however, is the important distinction between story and plot, and how they are reliant on each other, but with the story structure utmost.”

Let me try to decipher that. Basically, while it’s a simple process that explains itself and builds a novel from the ground up, it doesn’t take the story into consideration through the process. That might sound odd, since it’s helping you build… well, your story. However, there’s a clear difference between story and plot.

The plot of your story is what happens. If your protagonist is hurtling through country back-roads in his moonshine running hot-rod when suddenly his brakes go out, that’s plot. That’s what’s happening in your scene. When he slams on the brake pedal and realizes he’s headed straight for a tree, his heart pounding in his head, fear burning through his mind as he says a silent prayer for help, that’s story. The story (as opposed to plot) is the emotion behind your novel. It’s what your characters feel (since any novel worth it’s salt is going to be about a character or two).

So through the Snowflake Method, you’re building what? Your plot. You’re setting out what’s going to happen, when, and with who in your novel. That’s all well and good, but during this process, there’s not a whole lot of room for the emotion behind your writing. On your Snowflake spreadsheet, Amy and Jack are going to have an argument in front of their kids. That’s a scene. However that says nothing about their daughter, who hides her tears and sobs in her teddy bear and wishes she was at Grandma’s house.

... or HER own!

Regardless, it is true that this emotion (the story) can find life as you actually write the novel, once you’re finished with the ten step process. However through focusing on building exactly what is going to happen in your novel, it’s easy for the entire process to become robotic. It comes down to you, the writer, on how you will handle that. There are a great many methods of building a novel, but be forewarned that with the Snowflake Method, you do have to watch yourself for certain failings. There is a proper fit when it comes to any writer and any method of writing.

From what I can see, a lot of writers take pieces of the Snowflake Method. It’s a bit simple, but it’s also extensive. That relates well into fragmented systems using portions of the ten step process. For example, when I researched this, I found that the character building steps might be a great idea for me.

I do not plan. I do, but at the same time, I write by the seat of my pants. In my head, I know what’s going to happen at the end, and even some key events that will happen in between. However I leave myself a great deal of room so that my creative juices can flow, so to speak. It allows spontaneous action, honest character emotion and reaction, and a high level of leniency when it comes to the evolution of the story. In my working novel, Children of Solus, I know exactly what is going to happen at the end. I know quite a bit about my characters and what lies in store for them, but in between? The events sometimes surprise even me. However, like I said, the character building steps of the Snowflake method have inspired me to try them out. I’m all for getting to know my characters better, and I look forward to seeing how that helps my writing.

That’s my method, and it works for me. Some writers wouldn’t be able to get anything done if they did it my way, but that’s just how writing is. What works for one does not work for another. As you learn what sort of writer you are, you’ll find what method works for you too. If the Snowflake Method does, that’s great! If you try it and it doesn’t, that’s alright too. Feel free to use pieces of it that do work for you. Just remember not to force yourself into a mold with it comes to your writing style. When you feel your creativity and inspiration is becoming cramped, odds are that your writing is going to show it. That’s not a good thing.

So how about you? Have you used the Snowflake Method before? How did it work for you? Have you found another method (perhaps even your own) that has given you good results?

I invite you to leave a comment on your experiences!