In about four hours’ work today on Seems to Fit, I wrote just about two thousand words. Which was neither bad nor exceptional, and just fine — not least, because it brings me within perhaps a thousand words (but probably less) of The End.
I’ve been thinking a lot about the structure of this last portion of the book:
- It departs from the structure of earlier drafts. For most of their length, they had consisted of a rotation of chapters, each from the point of view of a single character. But what I have always thought of as The Climactic Scene filled one enormous chapter, broken up into sections — one character per section, with some characters getting more than one section apiece. The Climactic Scene was followed by a chapter of denouement.
- Here in this draft, The Climactic Scene has been blown apart into — I don’t know — maybe ten or a dozen fragments: very very short chapters with (I hope) a sort of rising urgency. The action is much the same (and also much different, because I’ve now got an additional character in the mix: an active antagonist). But also, some of these short chapters are broken into sections: one character’s POV apiece. I’m hoping the effect will be that of, well, not chaos exactly, but of (y’know) Jesus Mary and Joseph there’s a lot going on…! We’ll see about that.
- But also in this draft there is not a denouement. More precisely, there are two of the things. The first (which I just completed) draws things to a close for every character but one. The second (coming up) will tie up the loose ends for the remaining character, as well as for the book as a whole.
This last-bulleted feature of the book’s construction feels unconventional to me. And — who knows? — I mean, on the one hand perhaps messing with convention just gives Agent X, Editor Y, and/or Reader Z one more potential reason not to bother committing to Seems to Fit. Which could even be the fatal reason, right?
So shouldn’t I play it safe, follow the “rules” (at least as I imagine them) and combine the two denouements into one?
Well, I don’t know about that.
Damn it (I think to myself). These people and I have been working together off and on for twenty years, but really, really seriously these last three. It could probably be argued that neither they nor I have been as hard on one another as we should have been. (And it could probably be argued, just as well, that we’ve all been way too hard on ourselves.)
The thing is, though: They mean something to me now. (In an odd bit of writerly neurosis, bordering on psychosis maybe, I hope that I mean something to them now, too.) Maybe our collective enterprise will never, for one reason or another, shudder its rickety way onto bookstore or warehouse shelves, into e-readers’ storage, even up into the Internet cloud. It doesn’t matt—
Well, okay, it does matter, on a dozen different levels, but it doesn’t matter for right now. Because right now, this is our moment. Just us. Me and my characters. They have given me what they have, what they can, and they have given it for a long time now; I could not (I am convinced) make them do any of it. But for just so long, I have given them what they could not do for themselves: I have tried to honor them with packaging, with wardrobes and settings, with faithful transcripts of their words — and yes, with structures within which what they’ve done for me makes sense.
So after The (big) Climactic Scene, for reasons which I hope will make sense to readers (as well as to the characters themselves), I’ve decided to offer not one but two codas. That last one, I think, must stand on its own if Seems to Fit is to stand on its own. That one character really, really deserves it: the seat, as it were, of honor; the chair at the head of the table. He has been the loneliest character in the whole book. But without him, the whole thing doesn’t exist.
George, Larry, Pierce, Wayne, Martin, and Bonnie: they carried the load for ninety-five percent of the draft’s 150K words. They have the heft — the gravitas — of plot testifying to their several and joint “realities.”
Update, 2011-07-17: Whoops. Forgot to include Emrys in that list there, didn’t I? But we all said good-bye to Emrys months and months ago.
But Al? True, Al’s popped up from time to time. He’s had center stage for a few monologues and flashbacks. But Al, damn. Al… you really, really deserve the last word.
_______________________
P.S. This is a very strange blog post and maybe, when I re-read it in a few hours, days, or weeks, I’ll wonder what the hell I was thinking — even what it means — and either remove it altogether or at least put it on a private, password-protected footing. Who knows. For now I just want to say it.
Nance says
Well. I just want to read it.
Because, if a conversation the author has with himself about ending his novel sounds like this, then I’m certainly in for the whole thing.
That’s one.
John says
Nance: And trust me, for the foreseeable future I will be counting. :)
I get really squirmy, in retrospect, about posting this sort of thing. It’s a “true” rendering of something going on inside my head. But it’s also the sort of pronouncement which makes me suspicious when I see it elsewhere. From the outside looking in, I might think, like, This fellow is really caught up in the whole “art” thing, isn’t he? And: Sheesh — what a blowhard. None of this makes any difference until he delivers the damn book.
After I get to The End, there will follow a bit of a (brief) break. And then I’ve got to make one more pass through the whole thing, ’cause I’ve got various sections marked off like [this], to be filled in later with stuff all of us would be better equipped to provide once we knew for sure what was coming downstream.
…and then, well, there’s the whole get-it-to-press stage. Which could take another couple-three years. And about which I am terribly, almost nauseatedly, nervous.
All of which said, it’s still awfully nice seeing The End lit up in soft red neon, like an Exit sign, just a little bit further up the hallway here.
Froog says
I am reminded of Churchill’s words about the Battle of El Alamein, Britain’s first great victory in the war, which turned the tide against the Germans in North Africa: This is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. But it is perhaps the end of the beginning.”
Have you ever read Flann O’Brien’s At Swim-Two-Birds, a comic novel about the writing process? Its central conceit is that all fictional creations become ‘real people’, and have a ‘private life’ outside of the narrative chores the author requires of them. The central character is trying to write a novel, and finds that all of his characters come to live with him (luckily, he owns an Inn, so he’s got plenty of room). He has lazily borrowed some characters from a dime Western to fill out the bit parts in his own story – so, we find cowboys roaming the streets of Dublin.
I sometimes picture you in similar situation. I imagine The Missus was quite glad to “say goodbye” to Emrys, a broody Welshman obsessed with beer, on whom it seemed to be always raining. But you still have quite a crowded household there.
marta says
Well, my characters mean something to me too.
I read At Swim-Two-Birds in college. It would probably mean more to me now. And Woody Allen has a film about characters coming to life. And, of course, Stranger Than Fiction… so many of us writers seem to have issues with this.
Now you say something about the “get-it-to-press stage.” And you mention a timeline–couple to three years. This makes me curious about the process you’re going through–because you’ve said before certain things about the process you aren’t going to blog or facebook about.
And this leads to wonder about the next step–the part of getting readers. Are you looking for early readers? Beta readers? I-don’t-know-what-else readers? Or are you keeping it under wraps until it is out in the world and we can actually buy it?
Do you want people to ask to read it or do you want to ask certain people to read it? Or is that just too crazy to think about at this time?
It is going to be a great day (confetti shall need to fly out from the computer–where is that app anyway?) when you state here on your blog that you are done–DONE!–with your book. You seem so close! That is very cool.
FInished manuscripts are cool.
John says
Froog: In all honesty, I’ve never said to myself, I feel just like Churchill. Now that you’ve reminded me of that quote, though…
So many people whose tastes I admire have recommended At Swim-Two-Birds that I finally acquired a copy, long before we moved to this house ten years ago. I am convinced I still have it, somewhere — among all the other books I couldn’t convince myself I just had to unpack back then, in one of the half-dozen or so book-boxes under the stairs.
But no, I still haven’t read it. (I know, I know.)
Re: The Missus, I shall be interested to quiz her after this is all done (whatever “all” means, and whatever “done”). She knows how important the story is to me, and she is one of the very few people on Earth who read the first draft as it was written — and encouraged me not to give up on the story. (She has read none of this draft.) But I know she must be looking forward to the day when I (at least for a while) relax in the obsessive schedule and preoccupations which have gripped me since 2008. Having read none of it, she likely hopes to confirm that it was worth waiting for.
John says
marta: I think we’ve talked about Stranger Than Fiction before. Loved it!
It is so, so tempting to ruminate aloud (as it were) here at RAMH about the marketing plan for the book. To the extent that it has a marketing plan, I mean. But actually I think that will just frustrate me — will add just one more layer of hope and expectation. And I also really want to keep the making of the book separate from its selling.
It will be greatly satisfying to me to be able describe how I did it, in retrospect. I don’t mind reading of other people’s experiences (struggles, frustrations, successes) as they move towards publication. I like reading of them, especially when the people in question are friends. But I don’t think I myself could have the discipline to lay it all out in advance of results, without becoming consumed by anxiety.
You know the line about not wanting to see sausage made, no matter how much you like sausage? I want to be the sausage guy who doesn’t invite people into his kitchen, who in fact boards up his windows, because (a) he doesn’t want to make anyone else uncomfortable by the ugly process and (b) he doesn’t want the distraction of knowing there are even a handful of eyeballs paying attention.
Ha. I think.
Jayne says
I’m envious of the obsessive schedule and preoccupations gripping you. I wish I had such discipline. It’s a demon of mine, and you remind me that it’s time to face it so that someday I can see “the light at the end of the tunnel,” as you now do. I think the “demon” is fear of living too long with my characters, its distraction, and becoming unglued from reality. I’m not so certain how I would function between the fiction/nonfiction world.
Also, I’m not one for conventions. But as you know, I’ve no experience with publishers (oh, but my son, my SON is having one of his poems published this fall! At 14, he’s already more prolific and successful than his mother–that’s how discipline works.) I can tell you only, as a reader, that two books I recently read–Jonathan Franzen’s Freedom, and Jennifer Egan’s A Visit From the Goon Squad both employ various POVs throughout–they switch in every chapter. I found it a little distracting–an entire change of voice for each chapter, and not always a noticeable change of voice (which is key, obviously)–but this is just my reader preference–which may be a function of my ADHD.
I do like the idea though, of presenting various POVs within smaller, sectioned chapters along the rising arc. That sounds, very much so, like it would construct within the mind a sense of urgency.
The interesting thing in Jennifer Egan’s book is the 64 page chapter written entirely in PowerPoint. Not very conventional, eh? Of course, it doesn’t hurt to be Jennifer Egan. Who, by the way, in person, is lovely, modest and approachable. (She was the writer’s conference.)
Here she is discussing her recent novel, its unconventional structure, and perceived marketing issues–it’s also noted that you can see the PowerPoint presentation after the “jump” but I couldn’t figure out how to do this: Conversation with Jennifer
I say follow what feels right to you… follow your instinct (a la Jennifer) . I love to see experimentation unfolding in a book.
Jayne says
@Jayne – Oops, she was at the conference. She wasn’t the conference. Although, she did make the conference. ;)
(Dang it takes me a long time to write in html.)
John says
Jayne: It helps that I developed that routine (and the preoccupations etc.) at a time when I lived by myself. So when The Missus and I intersected, I was already weird. :) Plus, although we’ve got two pets — one of which requires a fair amount of attention, for household sanity’s sake — if we had actual human youngsters around I really don’t think I could do it. Certainly not with a clear conscience!
And, too, I gave it up for years. Only got back to it about four years ago (on a project other than Seems to Fit).
All of which says, because you’re NOT in the same situation: even if you had the same “discipline,” you’d only be frustrated by the inability to call on it. Maybe it’d be less frustrating to think of it as “temporarily suspended discipline” in your case. :)
Discipline or not, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have the psychological wherewithal to write a novel with a lot of experimental elements. The POV-switching I do is (I hope) not jarring or even distracting. Each character has his or her own “things,” of course (just like people outside the book), but I don’t do anything like rotating first-person POV. And I sure as hell didn’t include a PowerPoint presentation. (Bet that’s an interesting challenge for someone trying to make an e-book version of Egan’s novel!)
Took me a while to figure out how to do it, but I think this will work to embed Jennifer Egan’s PowerPoint presentation in this comment:
John says
…and here, the Jennifer Egan interview itself:
Jayne says
@John – Ah! Thank you for including the above elements! I think it’s quite cool how she wrote Alison’s chapter. Very current. Her book would make a fabulous multi-media e-book. Especially w/the music enhanced version of the PP presentation. It’ll be the next generation (if it’s not already).
As for my lack of discipline: “temporarily suspended discipline” is very kind. And while the children are a huge distraction, I’ll have you know that Jennifer has them, too–I believe she has more than I. (I want to say I heard her say she has four, or maybe five? But does she have a nanny?) However, she does have the journalism degree, which was obviously worth its weight in tuition. ;)