STEP ONE: PREWRITING

I've contemplated the meaning of "prewriting" a lot over the last few days. I undertook a writing prompt for a Wattpad contest quite late in the game, and while I cracked those knuckles and buried my butt 'in-chair,' I was unable to complete the 3,500 words needed for the scope of my story by the deadline. I gave myself a comfortable TWO DAYS to ingest, imagine, digest, divulge, and guess what, I failed.

      I'm still mad about it.

     But I intend to finish the story for two reasons:

     1. I did write 2,000 words of the story, and while it needs rewriting to unbutton and go deeper, that's still 2,000 words of fiction I haven't written in a while.

     2. I outlined. Not the scribbly-Post-It-notes-that-fall-off-the-wall, outlined. But the beginning, middle, and end kind, with scene-for-scene thrown in.

     I'm not wasting that effort. I did exhaust my poor, poor, self in my frantic chase to complete something. For me, an intensive writing stretch of two days (16 hours total) is like running a 10k marathon when all I've done is slow-walk around the neighborhood every night. The kind of non-metaphorical walking I do in Outside Life, which is not often.

     I'm spent. My wordcount needle on Empty. I'm forcing myself to write this entry because the kind of thinking needed for 'Writing Blahz' lives in a separate part of my brain. The portion that still has gas. It's a weird thing when I can't write fiction but I can do this. 

     (To the writer-ly folks reading this, those who shove out completed work every two days and think I'm stark raving* dramatic, you're probably right. Also, shush, this is my sob story.)

     Despite the disappointment in myself, I don't view it as a complete loss. Aside from having a story to finish, one I'm excited about, those 16 hours gave me a reconnect crash-course with my prewriting engine. My idea train. Because that's what prewriting is: ideas and concepts, the who, the why, and the where. To put it plainly, "It starts with a 'holla!' and ends with a Creamsicle."**

      Probably.

     Prewriting is a valuable tool when writing, especially with fiction. Typically, during this stage, one outlines and develops character, plot, setting, and theme—and ending!—before ever stepping foot onto the first page, putting it all neatly into a file or a notebook to be checked and rechecked throughout drafting.   Scrivner*** is often involved. Or numbered 3x5 cards in a handy-dandy, plastic case. A worksheet, too, detailing chapter length, character arcs, location changes, and a weather timeline for kicks. 

     Typically. 

     The way I go about conception is a little different, just ask my husband. No. Seriously. He wanted to watch me work through the story process, and after an hour of frantic scribbling, he said, "Can we please just make that bubble thing?" 

     Sweet guy. 

     It's hard for me to work in bubble diagrams or notecards. I don't see the story linear. I don't see it as stackable concepts.  Most of my ideas like to start as a single line: 

      "He fell in one day and we had to stop using the pool."  Truly Elemental, 2016. 

      "The clock on my wall watches me."  Cross My Heart, 2017. 

      Sometimes, they spring from aesthetics, and I write just to play with a "look." A good example is my novel "Bonedead" on Wattpad, which spun zombies, dinosaurs, and Victorian New York City together, solely because I wanted to write a postapocalyptic-Gothic about girls in spool heels, keeping pet raptors, and killing corseted zombies a la Walking-Dead-style. (Still didn't finish it, though.)

      Since my muse is vague, it can't be codified, boxed, or bubbled. My prewriting process is me, chasing circles around the page, trying to find people and themes to fit a curated Pinterest board or the one-liner-vibe. What emerges can only be compared to the Xs, Os, and long-tailed arrows of a football playbook.

Spoilers redacted because I do care.

       The chaos I enjoy. Handwriting on paper helps me draw out a story, like encouraging a cat to pst-pst over for a belly rub. (Same level of danger.) I keep a trusty set of colored markers on hand at all times, in case a certain level of pizazz is needed by my subconscious. I'll also never stop using the term "shit ensues" as a placeholder for nonexistent plot points. 

     What I need to improve on is outlining. I need a structure for my nonsense, a variation of the bubble thing that fits my brain chemistry.   While free doodling helps me get ideas, it doesn't help me remember them. My memory stinks. And after taking a four-year hiatus from projects like "Bonedead," I now have zero recollection of where the plot was headed. I've read my notes and I'm pretty sure I lost some Post-Its/plot to the vacuum cleaner. 

     In summary, a 2020 comeback goal for me is to outline. I love wiggle room when writing, I relish surprises when I'm deep in the zone with a steamy bag of microwavable popcorn, but I do need a map to guide me when the popcorn goes stale.  If anyone has outlining tips—a blog, document, book, or spell that might help—please, drop 'em below. 

*Footnote: While Googling 'stark raving mad' to confirm the correct spelling/hyphen usage, I stumbled across a TV series (1999-2000) of the same name. Here's a synopsis: "A broad sitcom about a fastidious editor working with an eccentric horror writer who struggles with writer's block."  Ha, ha. Neil Patrick Harris, Tony Shalhoub, and Eddie McClintock?! I can tell you right now; the world was not pure enough for that ensemble. 

**Quote from Shawn Spencer on USA's  'Psych.' Because today is the day for TV references. And apparently, I'm indulging in footnotes, now. 

***Scrivner, you confusing bastard of a writing program.