The Brained Writer

A couple months ago, fellow author Jack Tyler wrote a blog post entitled “The Right-Brained Writer”. Part of the post dealt with Planners versus Pantsers. That is, those writers who plan the story out ahead of time and those who “fly by the seat of their pants”. 

Jack wrote he was in the former camp. (I, by the way, am firmly in the latter one.) He went on to write because he was a Planner, he was right-brained. Could be. I don’t know. Supposedly, right-brain dominant people are creative and left-brain dominant are logical. I think writers are simply brained. They must be creative and they must be logical. Writers must be creative to make up their worlds and they must be logical, because in the real world things don’t have to make sense — but readers demand that a fictional world make total sense.

I think whether one is a Pantser or a Planner has more to do with one’s approach to life than whether one is creative or logic dominant. I don’t like authority. I strongly resist being told what to do. I like structure, but it must be organic rather than imposed. I see outlining as imposing structure, which to my mind is counter to the organic creation of story.

Planners, though, it seems to me, dominate academia. Plot your story is all I ever heard in writing classes. For Planners, outlining is a way to organize unruly thoughts. However, if you have to tell yourself the story to outline it — why don’t you just write it down?

I’ve tried outlining my stories. After all I was told I had to. My mind, however, totally freezes up. I can’t even finish the outline. I’ve tried brief sketches of chapters and scenes. I’ve tried storyboarding. Again, my mind freezes up and I can’t even finish sketching out the story. Trying to plan my writing nearly destroyed my nascent “career”. (I put career in quotes because at present I’m a hobbyist. Which means I ain’t making any money yet.)

I have more aborted writing projects than Carter’s famed little pills, or leaves to be raked off the lawn on a Minnesota autumn day. Planning didn’t work for me. In spite of all those well-meaning How-to books on writing.

The realization I was a Pantser came slowly. It started several years ago when I saw the movie The Remains of the Day. I liked it so much, I got and read the book. Then I read about the author, Kazuo Ishiguro, and learned about the “plotless” novel. That is, a novel that isn’t constructed around a plot, but is an extended character study. An extension of Ray Bradbury’s advice: create your characters, let them do their thing, and that’s your story. In other words, story is the outcome of who the characters are and their reactions to the problems we, the writers, throw at them. When I realized a novel could be “plotless”, I felt a burden fall from my shoulders.

In reality, let it be said, there is no such thing as a “plotless” novel. Why? Because plot = story — and all novels (or movies) tell a story. However, the focus of the so-called plotless novel is on the characters. The actual story is pretty thin and sometimes irrelevant. Watch a movie or two by Yasujiro Ozu. The story in each movie is pretty much the same. The focus is on how the different characters react to the circumstances. That is where the power and emotion lies.

After I learned about the plotless novel (or movie), I realized that as a reader I didn’t really care about the plot. I was fascinated by the characters in the story. If the author didn’t create compelling and memorable characters, I stopped reading.

Then I learned of Pantsers and Planners. Those terms didn’t exist, to my recollection, 50 years ago. Once I learned them, however, I realized right away I was a Pantser — and that I wasn’t alone! That realization was also very freeing.

There is no right or wrong way to write a story. There is only the particular author’s way. The one that works for that writer. I’ve read of writers who write chapter one, then write the last chapter, and then all the ones in the middle. I’ve read of writers who use a formula (like Lester Dent) and those who write a 100 page outline. There are those who sketch their idea out on the back of an envelope and then start typing. Each method works for that author. It won’t, in all likelihood, work for me. Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t give it a try, but the odds are I’ll either abandon it or adopt it with my own twist.

In the end, all I know is that — for me — outlining and planning out my story on paper kills the Muse.

So how do I write? Good question. One I’ve asked myself. Usually I just sit down and start writing. I have no problem coming up with story ideas. They are like falling rain or snow. I just have to collect them. A blank sheet of paper has never intimidated me. Back in high school and college I was very active in forensics (competitive speaking, debate, and the like). My particular strengths were extemporaneous and impromptu speaking. I guess that applies to my writing also.

However, the more I’ve thought about how I actually go about creating a story, the more I realized I do a fair amount of thinking and planning in my head. It’s all up there in the ol’ noggin, just not on paper. And it’s all very, very fluid.

I start where Bradbury advised: with the characters. For me, they are what drives me to write. Those people in my head clamoring for me to tell their story. Basically, I see myself as a stenographer who simply listens to the the tales I’m being told. Then with a little editing, fashion them into a coherent whole. Because no one tells their story in a coherent linear fashion.

Stories come to me in one of two ways: either a character springs forth, like Athena from Zeus’s forehead, or the germ of an idea or scene appears which I then people. I may do a little research to clear up points about the character or the setting. Then once I have that basic information I start writing. I’ll do additional research if needed along the way. I often joke I have one hand on the pencil writing and one on the keyboard doing research.

Lady Dru Drummond, for example, came to me after reading about the very real Lady Grace Hay Drummond-Hay, who was a Hearst reporter in the ‘20s, ‘30s, and early ‘40s until she was captured by the Japanese. Lady Dru is Lady Grace on steroids, as it were. A phenomenal woman made even more so for fiction. I then came up with a world to put Dru in, one in which World War Two never happened and the cold war is between the Allies and the Axis powers. I picked 1953 as a starting point for The Moscow Affair because that’s the year Stalin died. What a great time for the Czarists to attempt to take back the government. And then I started writing.

The Rocheport Saga began with a sentence that popped into my head. Out of the blue someone suddenly said, “Today I killed a man and a woman.”

I thought on that a bit and then a second sentence came to mind, and then a third, and a fourth. Pretty soon I had a whole paragraph given to me by my as yet unnamed protagonist. So who was it who was talking to me? Once I got that figured out, the rest of the story began to tell itself.

Justinia Wright and her brother, Harry, came to me after reading the Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine editor’s comment about the dearth (at that time) of female detectives. They are Holmes and Watson, Wolfe and Goodwin in the 21st Century Midwestern city of Minneapolis, with a touch of Phryne Fisher thrown in for good measure.

Writing mysteries, to my mind, are pretty easy. The detective either solves the case or he or she doesn’t. And readers usually demand that the case is satisfactorily solved. Do I write puzzles? Not intentionally. In fact Tina and Harry poo-poo mystery writers for coming up with all manner of unrealistic storylines. Real detective work is boring, they say. Yet, I don’t think they’ve had a boring case yet. Imagine that.

I love mysteries, but only those where the detective is an intriguing and realistically portrayed quirky person. Holmes isn’t “real”. Who do we know who is like him? Yet we love him. Nero Wolfe is even more removed from reality than Holmes, yet his adventures are still in print. In fact, Stout was a pretty hack mystery writer. What saves the day is that duo of Nero Wolfe and Archie Goodwin. Their antics and escapades and run-ins with Inspector Cramer. Hercule Poirot is a refugee and yet he lives a very sumptuous lifestyle. How does he manage that? In addition, he is fraught with oddities and a whole lot of vanity.

The characters are what I love about mysteries. The puzzle is just there, in my opinion, to give them something to do. And I like just watching them try to solve it.

In the end, I think we writers are not left- or right-brain folk. I think we are simply brained. We use both sides in the creative process. And whichever side gives me those delightful people I write and dream about, doesn’t really matter. I’m just glad it’s there. My life is all the richer for their appearing. And I hope the same can be said for those who read my little stories.

Comments are always welcome! Until next time, happy reading!

Book Review: Beyond The Rails by Jack Tyler

One of the defining features of the punk genres is a protagonist on the edge of society, which allows the author plenty of room to critique said society. This aspect is particularly true in cyberpunk, the original punk genre, and perhaps less so in others.

Jack Tyler, in his short story collection, Beyond The Rails, has given us not one, but five societal misfits and placed them in the colonial frontier of an alternative history 1880s Kenya. The social critique aspect of the punk genre comes in how the white and black Kenyans get along, drawing a contrast with actual history and our own contemporary society. The critique, though, is very understated. Mr Tyler just sort of slips it in. Only the adventure is heavy handed here and that’s a good thing.

Beyond The Rails has all the trappings of steampunk, airships, high adventure, fantastical inventions, and, of course, steam power. Mr Tyler has managed to capture the essence of Firefly and at the same time given us the field of an H Rider Haggard African adventure. And who doesn’t love She-Who-Must-Be-Obeyed and Allen Quatermain?

There are six stories in the collection. The first three are independent and the last three actually form a novella in three parts. The first story, “The Botanist”, introduces us to the crew of the airship Kestrel and one Dr Nicholas Ellsworth. As with Firefly, the Kestrel takes on cargo and passengers for delivery beyond the end of the railroad line. And as with Firefly, the passenger we meet… Well, I won’t spoil things. If you know Firefly, you have an idea what happens. And if you don’t, you’ll just have to read the story.

I found the stories to be fun and engaging reads. They are unabashedly in the action/adventure realm, evoking the spirit of the stories I read as a kid. The focus is on the exciting story line and not so much on the characters. Which isn’t to say the crew of the Kestrel aren’t an interesting bunch of misfits — for they are. The focus, though, is on the story and not on changes or the lack thereof in the characters of the story.

As writers, we are told stories are either plot-driven or character-driven. As readers, we tend to prefer exciting and suspenseful stories (like, say, the Indiana Jones or Lara Croft yarns) or we tend to prefer stories that get into a character’s head and where the action tends to be not quite so exciting and perhaps not exciting at all (such as a Yasujiro Ozu movie or a Kazuo Ishiguro novel).

For me, from both a reading and writing perspective, it is character that matters. One of my favorite movies, Late Spring, directed by Yasujiro Ozu (1949), is very understated. There is only a minimalist story. However, the intense emotion that builds up between father and daughter is phenomenal.

That doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy a good action/adventure story where the characters lean towards being stock, because I do—as long as the characters are interesting and colorful. Indiana Jones is certainly colorful, but he doesn’t change all that much even throughout the series of movies.

What Jack Tyler has given us in Beyond The Rails, is action and adventure with characters who are interesting enough to appeal to the most diehard character-driven story reader.

If you like steampunk, the stories of H Rider Haggard, Firefly, I think you’ll want to curl up with Beyond The Rails. I know I did and thoroughly enjoyed it.

Comments are always welcome! And until next time, happy reading!

Fast Writing: Additional Thoughts

Last week we talked about fast writing. This week I want to riff on some of those points we made.

For years now, I’ve maintained “The First Draft” is a myth. There’s no need for it or the accompanying second, third, fourth, fifth, etc drafts. The multiple draft approach is an Academic Belief System all wannabe writers are taught to believe by people who don’t write for a living. It has no basis in reality. At least the reality of those who write fiction for a living.

The belief system of Academia and the editors in the traditional publishing world believe this formula: 

Slow Writing = Good Writing. 

Or conversely, Fast Writing = Bad Writing.

This is a belief system. A religion. It is not The Truth. It has no basis in reality. It’s no different than belief in God. No one can prove there is or isn’t a God. One either believes there is a God or believes there isn’t one. Simple as that.

We writers can choose to believe the myth about fast and slow writing or we can choose not to believe it. For myself, I don’t believe it.

In high school and college, as a matter of course, mostly due to time pressure is my guess, I wrote out my papers and essays by hand. Then I typed them, editing as I went along. When I was done, I submitted. No first draft, second draft baloney. There was no time. And I’m pleased to say, I never got poor marks on my papers.

But for some odd reason, I didn’t apply that intuitive course of action to my fiction writing. I struggled trying to make it perfect. To do all of the “right” things. And consequently, I got nothing written.

Nearly 40 years ago now, I read a book on writing advice. I don’t remember the title, author, or anything about it except the summary of how Isaac Asimov wrote and his advice for writers. It went something like this:

• Write every day — whether or not you feel like it.
• Write simply.
• Forget the critics.
• Don’t rewrite. That’s what editors are for. This point was Asimov’s restatement of Robert Heinlein’s 3rd Rule of Writing, something I learned later. Asimov didn’t rewrite unless his editor demanded it. Asimov followed what, in business, is called the OHIO rule: Only Handle It Once. And it does work for writers. I practiced it with my essays for school.
• Don’t use an agent. Because you make more money if you don’t. I.E., you aren’t paying the agent his or her commission.

That book and the brief bit of information from Isaac Asimov was my first introduction to prolific writing. And I loved the concept!

But for some reason, I still didn’t apply it to my fiction. And nothing got written.

Later on, I learned about the Victorian speed demon, Anthony Trollope. I learned Heinlein’s 5 Rules of Writing. I was awed by the fabulous production of Robert E Howard in his very short writing career. And I learned one thing about myself: I needed to be like them. I needed to be a fast writer.

In 1989, I wrote a novel. The process took me a year. I didn’t really know what I was doing. But I did get it written while working full time and learning the ins and outs of raising a very young child. After a few rejections of my query, I set the work aside. I decided it wasn’t up to standard. And in truth, it wasn’t. I didn’t quite have down how to write a good story. I also came to the decision, I couldn’t write longer works of fiction. They took up too much time. So I turned to poetry. And that worked. 

For a span of fifteen or so years I wrote thousands of poems, following Asimov’s advice. I was a prolific poet and got hundreds of poems published. But I tired of poetry and wanted to write what I’d always wanted to write and that was fiction. So once again I turned to novel writing. And once again I stubbed my toe on another myth — that of the outline. And no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t get an outline to work. Every time I took my wonderful character or story idea and tried to outline the book, I suddenly lost all inspiration. It vanished.

Then I stumbled upon Kazuo Ishiguro and Yasujirō Ozu and the plotless novel and movie. To be fair, their books and movies aren’t without plot. The storyline, though, is minor. What is important are the character studies taking place on the page and screen. That was what broke the ice. I liked reading about characters. I could not care less about the story. I want interesting characters.

Suddenly, I felt free. There were no restrictions. Just write. Do what Ray Bradbury advised: create your characters, have them do their thing, and that’s your story. Simple as that. The words have been flowing like a flood from my pen ever since.

But getting back to Asimov, there was one “rule” he didn’t articulate but is clearly implied in his methodology — and which I follow. Namely, write it right the first time.

How does one write it right the first time? Confidence. You must be confident you know the basics of good writing. You must be confident you can tell a reasonably good story.

I’m not referring here to deeply profound writing. Or writing that is symbolic or “literary”, whatever that means. Or writing that is approved by Academia. I’m not referring here to writing that will win you the Pulitzer or Nobel or Booker awards. I’m referring here to good writing that will hopefully earn you a few bucks and maybe a lot of bucks. Straightforward writing that tells a good story.

Shakespeare did not set out to become the doyen of English literature. He was writing to make a buck. He used prefab storylines and created memorable characters and wrote some doggone good dialogue. But his main goal was to make a buck to support his family, mistress, and keep his theatre afloat. Shakespeare had confidence he could tell a good story.

The critics hated Isaac Asimov and ridiculed his very simple and straightforward writing style. However, the readers loved him and Asimov himself undoubtedly laughed at his critics all the way to the bank. Why? Because he told a good story. Was it a perfect story? No. And he would have been the first to admit it. But the story was good. In fact, Asimov wrote once that he tried to follow the multiple draft method and couldn’t. He liked what he wrote on the first draft and didn’t see any way he could improve it. Besides, it was a waste of time — if he wanted to be prolific and make a buck. Asimov had confidence.

Dean Wesley Smith tells an interesting anecdote from back when he was part of the traditional publisher world. He wrote a novel and his editor sent it back with a list of rewrites. Smith agreed with most of them and spent a day making the fixes. He was getting ready to send the typescript back when his wife told him to wait 3 weeks. Why? Because if Smith sent it back right away, following the “Slow Writing = Good Writing” myth, the editor would reject his work. He’d done the rewrites too quickly. So Smith waited. After 3 weeks he sent the typescript back and the editor praised his work and how quickly he’d made the fixes. Smith laughed. In those three weeks he’d almost finished another novel!

So what’s my point here? Here it is in a nutshell:

• Learn the writing craft. Know your grammar and know the basics of good storytelling. If you don’t know those basics, you will not be able to tell good stories no matter how many rewrites you grind out.
• Write every day — even if you don’t feel like it. Routine is good. Stick to it.
• Don’t pot around worrying about outline and plot twists and all the other hoopla. Just write the story. Create your characters, put them in a fix or give them a problem to solve and then start writing. You will learn in the course of writing. We are writers. Not rewriters. When I read of writers who LOVE editing and rewriting… Well, there is something wrong there. IMO.
• When done, reread to make sure your story is coherent and to catch typos, grammar issues, and any clunky sentences you may have written. But the sake of everything that is of value to you, don’t rewrite the thing. IMO, if you have to rewrite then you don’t know how to tell a story. Yeah, I know, that’s harsh. But it is just my opinion. The choice is yours: pot around rewriting, or get it right the first time and try to make a buck.

I’ve written and/or published in the span of 2 years, 11 novels, 6 novellas, 16 short stories, and a weekly blog. Are there better writers out there than me? Certainly. Are there worse writers? Sure are. But am I a good writer? Like Asimov, when I look at a story or novel I’ve just completed I like it. Do I tweak it? Usually. But I don’t rewrite. I just fix the little things like typos and grammar mistakes and maybe reword a sentence or two if they come off sounding clunky. That’s it. If the beta readers spot a big issue, I’ll fix that. Following Asimov and Heinlein, I only rewrite if my “editors” insist on it. And the so called rewrite is usually only a paragraph or so.

That’s the secret to fast writing. Go out there and tell your stories. Because only YOU can tell YOUR stories.

Comments are always welcome. Until next time, happy reading!

Cozy Catastrophe Review: The Rocheport Saga

The Rocheport Saga is my contribution to the cozy catastrophe subgenre. Freedom’s Freehold, the sixth book in the series, is available for pre-order, and the entire series is on sale for 99¢ per book until the 13th of June. Do get your copies now, if you haven’t already. They are available at the retailer of your choice.

Without even knowing what a cozy catastrophe was, I wrote about Bill Arthur’s attempt to preserve the accumulated knowledge of the human race in the wake of an overnight virtual annihilation of humanity. Taking as a general guide Stewart’s Earth Abides. And so it was quite by accident I incorporated all the features that make a cozy a cozy.

The Rocheport Saga is a sprawling work. It covers one man’s lifetime: from his late 50s to his death at 103. It is the second “novel” I wrote and the first after I came to the realization I was a pantser who had a liking for the “plotless” novel. By which I mean to say, The Rocheport Saga is very much like most of our lives: we have story arcs, picaresque adventures, but very little in the way of plot. Most of us, myself included, live from day to day. We don’t plot out our lives. Sure we have our plans. Most of those end up as merely wishes.

Kazuo Ishiguro, in his novel An Artist of the Floating World, summed it up quite well, I think. Most of us, at the end of the day, find ourselves to be, for all our dreams and efforts, ordinary people in extraordinary times. We give it our best to be great and usually fall far short.

That is why virtual life is so popular. Whether that virtual life be novels, games, TV, movies, social media, or a façade carefully maintained as though we were actors and actresses on a stage. Virtual life allows us to be great. It gives us the chance to be winners.

All literature, in my opinion, is ultimately fantasy. It is wish fulfillment. We want to be the hero who succeeds at the quest. Or to be the man or woman who finds true love. Or perhaps that one person to succeed where others can’t and thereby receive the recognition and adulation we know we are all entitled to.

The Rocheport Saga is no different. It is fantasy masquerading as science fiction. Because, let’s face it, what are the odds of a Bill Arthur surviving such a cataclysm and being able to guide and hold together such a rag tag group as that in Rocheport? Probably nil. And yet, we all would like to be Bill Arthur. I know I would.

Why? Because he is not like us. He is underneath it all an extraordinary man who gets to live in extraordinary times. He is the quintessential nobody who rises to the occasion when the occasion presents itself. Which is a key feature of the cozy catastrophe. He and he alone is capable of leading the people of Rocheport and ultimately of Missouri. The stuff of which dreams are made.

In The Morning Star, we meet Bill Arthur. He is searching for a home. The urban areas are too dangerous for his liking. Along the way, he meets Mert, Mel, and Sally. They are the beginning of his blended family through which his dream eventually comes to fruition.

Book 2, The Shining City, finds the inhabitants of Rocheport doing what it seems people do best: fighting. There is war and Bill’s group eventually wins, but not without loss. For war only comes with loss.

The losers of the civil war in Rocheport are very poor sports and in the next two books, Love is Little and The Troubled City, our hero has no end of grief in his attempt to ensure the group’s survival and accomplish his dream of a return to high technology and for everyone to live by the Golden Rule.

By Leaps and Bounds, Book 5, sees a turn. On his way to a libertarian republic and living by the Golden Rule, Bill disbands Rocheport’s communal way of life and makes everyone responsible for his or her success or failure.

In Book 6, Freedom’s Freehold, Bill, in the face of dangerous external and internal forces, as well as personal crises, continues his technological advance and his desire to implement a libertarian republic — that best form of government which governs not at all, as Thoreau wrote.

Just as Europe emerged from the Dark Ages to realize the world was a very large place, so too does Rocheport emerge from its isolation to find there are many little communities like itself.

Bill embarks on building a telegraph network to link together likeminded cities. He builds steam-powered cars and trucks for travel and trade. And for long distance exploration and trade, he builds a steam-powered airship.

The forthcoming books will chronicle the ever growing world in which Rocheport finds itself. The question always being will Bill and his dream remain in the center of that world and will Rocheport truly become the shining city set upon the hill.

The Rocheport Saga is the cozy catastrophe on a grand scale. I hope you enjoy it.

Comments are welcome, as always. Until next time, happy reading!

Being Prolific

Some writers are naturally prolific and others aren’t. It is not an issue of good or bad, it just is. One of my favorite authors, Kazuo Ishiguro, sometimes has years go by before a novel comes out. But are they ever good. Margaret Mitchell and Harper Lee certainly wasn’t/isn’t prolific. Yet Gone with the Wind and To Kill a Mockingbird are such tours de force why write a second? Could a second be anywhere near as good?

Beginning in 1847 with his first published work, Anthony Trollope, in a span of 35 years, produced 35 novels, 2 plays, 44 short stories, and 18 volumes of sketches and non-fiction. That is nearly 3 works a year.

From 1939 until his death in 1992, Isaac Asimov wrote or edited over 500 books. That is over 9 a year. Pretty incredible.

What’s their secret?

For Trollope, it was writing 10 pages a day (2500 words). A practice Stephen King also follows. Trollope also used standard plots so he could focus on his characters.

For Asimov, it was simply to write. Leave editing to the editors, he once wrote, that’s what they’re there for. Of course, in today’s world there is no slush pile and no editors to edit. Victims of bottom lines and shrinking profit margins. Agents, beta readers, and editors for hire have taken over what the Big Publishers discarded. Nevertheless, even though the publishing world is different today than in Asimov’s day, he had a point.

Writers write and editors edit. For today’s author, who wishes to be prolific, obtaining the services of a good editor could go a long way towards obtaining that goal of prolificity.

Also key to Asimov’s tremendous output was he wrote fast in a simple and straightforward style. He focused on the story, got it on paper, and let the editor edit so he could write the next story. His stories are also rather formulaic. Writing to formula helps to eliminate plot angst.

Think about this: a 1,000 words a day (that is 4 double-spaced typed pages) will, in 50 days, produce a 50,000 word novel. At that pace, you can turn out 6 novels a year. Want a fatter novel? 75,000 words? You can still turn out 4 or 5 novels a year writing only 1,000 words a day.

Being prolific is within your grasp. 

• Write every day
• Write to a goal. At least 1,000 words a day.
• Don’t be fancy. Write simply.
• If you’re a plotter, use a formula genre plot. If you’re a pantser, keep those simple formula plots in mind to help corral your characters and keep some order.
• And let the editor edit.

Let me know what you think. Do you have any special tricks up your sleeve? If so, please share!

[Originally published 17 February 2015 on www.cwhawes.com.]

The Plotless Novel

Ever since I can remember, my one dream was to be a published author. However, I quickly learned plotting and I don't get along.  I don't know if it was a bad experience with diagramming in Mrs. Bloom's Fifth Grade grammar class or the gene I was apparently born with which shuts my brain down when I see the word "outline".  Whatever it is, I just can't plot out a story, poem, novel, series, or even structure the grocery list.

For many years I despaired of ever becoming a writer.  I had moderate success with poetry and I like poetry, but poems aren't novels.  I wanted to write novels and everywhere I turned, folks talked and wrote about the need to plot.  I was in the Slough of Despond.

Then one of those serendipitous events occurred in the form of the movie "The Remains of the Day", based on the book of the same title.  I liked the movie and it appeared to have not much, if any, plot.  And what I especially liked was that it seemed to largely be a character study.  For me, when I read, it's all about the characters.  I don't care how intricate the plot, if I don't like the characters the book is set aside.  The lightbulb went off over my head.

I Googled "plotless novels" and to my delight found dozens upon dozens of novels with little plot and dozens upon dozens of authors who write them.  I also found plotless films, especially those of the late Japanese director Yasujiro Ozu.  He was a master at creating intense feelings with a minimum of story.  His characters carried the day.

Suddenly the sun broke through the clouds.  I read Kazuo Ishiguro's novels "The Remains of the Day" (even better than the movie) and "An Artist of the Floating World" and loved them.  I watched Ozu's films and was moved deeply.  I also discovered an entire form -- the picaresque novel -- which is nothing more than a series of vignettes.  The movie "Little Big Man" is a film version of the picaresque novel.

The dam broke and I started writing.  I learned (thanks to my sister) I was a pantser.  And I was okay with flying by the seat of my pants.  Being a pantser has its own unique set of issues.  The main one being not having a clue what is coming next.  But then you just trust your characters to tell their story.

Some will argue there is no such thing as a plotless novel or story.  To make sense, a story has to have a plot.  If there was no plot, the story wouldn't make any sense.  Even if all the characters do is to go from point A to point B, one has a plot.

I won't quibble over semantics.  If one looks at "Little Big Man" or "The Remains of the Day", there is movement.  The progressive story of a man's life or the taking of a vacation.  But those events aren't what make the story.  It is the development of Jack Crabb and his life experiences which make the story.  What life has taught him is what is important.  Or that Stevens must come to grips with a changing world and to survive he must change along with it.  His vacation, at the end of the day, is simply a vehicle for him to come to grips with himself.

Perhaps the Plotless Novel should be called the Character Novel, because that is what is important.  It is the character him or herself that is important and constitutes the story.

Whatever we call it, the Plotless Novel has been a godsend for me.  I wouldn't be writing today without its discovery.

What are your thoughts on reading or writing the plotless novel?