Writers Lie.

My characters have a mind of their own.

We hear this all the time. As writers, we think: Yeah, mine too. Pesky bastards. Non-writers think: These people deserve a straight jacket and padded room. So maybe I should explain when I say my characters kicked me in the shins and forced the story in another direction.

First, I’m not nuts. (OK, maybe I’m nuts but it’s not because I hear pretend people speak to me.)

Second, consider lying.

It starts out innocent enough. Someone asks you to watch their dog for the weekend—the same dog that peed on your rug last time, leaving a dark dribble mark you’ll never be able to walk barefoot over again—and you say, “I’d love to but I’m busy.”

Then things spiral out of control. Soon you’re explaining how you’re going out of town to help your mother clean her house because your father hurt his hip while cleaning out the gutters. Oh, and did you know that your mother’s house is extra messy because she’s been babysitting your sister’s illegitimate child for a month. And that child isn’t potty trained.

You get the idea. The lie takes on a life of its own, and before you know it you no longer have to watch your neighbor’s dog—though you do have to explain to your 15-year-old sister why she’ll be getting a gift box of diapers in the mail.

That’s how it works when you’re writing a story. Things happen you didn’t foresee. Characters do things you never intended for them to do. Your mind twists and turns until the story is alive.

Non-writers: That’s what writers are talking about.

In other words: We lie. A lot.

Do you guys find your characters push your plot in directions you've never imagined? And, truthfully, does it work like a lie for you or do they, um, really speak?

It's Like a Movie

I said that procrastination is what got me to this point*. That’s not entirely true. It’s really what I did while procrastinating that helped.

See, while I was obsessing over agent blogs and stalking following writer blogs I was also daydreaming. Once I had my idea—not the craptastic one I originally came up with, mind you—I let it play in my head like I was remembering a good movie.

Over the course of the 11 months I procrastinated (and again when I got stuck on a scene), I got to know my characters. I saw my favorite scenes and how they reacted. I dwelled on what might happen next.

Warning: You might consider me insane for what I’m about to say. You’re entitled to your own opinion, but I’d appreciate it if you don’t call the authorities. With my complexion, straightjackets wash me out.

I’d run through scenes while showering, while washing my hands, while folding laundry. I’d take a nap, throw on some music, and let the story play.

And then I wrote it all down. I wouldn’t say it was an outline (because such an outline would have gotten an F in the high school I went to). But it was a map of sorts. 

This applies mid-draft, too.

It’s easy, when stuck, to force the words. I can’t think of a reason she’d go to that house but, gosh dern it, she needs to be there so that’s what happens next. Usually those are the places in the manuscript beta readers leave marks like this:

HUH!?!?

And no on wants a big fat HUH!?!? in the comments. So step back and let the scene play out in your mind. Watch the “movie” and then watch it again. Watch it until you’re unstuck.

For me, the notes I took while daydreaming were scattered. But they helped me get my mind around the plot, the arc, who these people in my head were.

And now I’m positive, after that comment, you’ll have me committed.

 Do you ever daydream with your story?

*A completed manuscript. A totally flawed, piece of crap first draft, but you get where I'm going with this.

Real Life

The other night I was talking about my manuscript with The Man. It went something like this…

ME: And then there’s the locked room.

THE MAN: Mmm hmm.

ME: She needs to get out of the locked room. Remember, there are no windows, the door’s locked. No vents.

THE MAN: Huh?

ME: She needs to get out, of course. I’m just not sure how she’ll do it yet.

THE MAN: …

ME: Remember?

THE MAN: Sorry, yeah. I thought we were talking about real life for a second.