Novel writing: To outline or not to outline?

I teach tenth grade English and am constantly making my students plan and outline before they write, but when it comes to my own novel writing, I don’t take my own advice.

My strategy for the past year has been to sit down when I get a chance and just write. This is great for small pieces,

What happens is that I get this story going, and then I get to a point where I am stuck. I used to think that an outline would stifle my inspiration, but now I have come to the realization that an outline focuses it.

I wrote a great beginning for my novel and I know what the climax is, but after months of writing, I find that I have a bunch of “scenes” that are completely disconnected.

So today I sat down and wrote the outline for my story. I didn’t even look at my manuscript while I did it. I wrote it in present tense, using short, direct sentences. I used cliches. Basically, I let the writing suck… for example:

“Henry sits backstage in a small time theater. He is in a dressing room he shares with several people, including his partner, Cecil. He puts on his blackface makeup using the burnt end of a cork. He is getting ready for his performance and if he does well, he will be booked in the Big Time, where there is a lot of money.”

And you know what? I have my entire story outlined and it makes complete sense. Now I can spend my time filling in the gaps with descriptions, weaving in secondary plot lines, and doing my ‘thang (which means pumping out creative genius).

My advice is to OUTLINE!

1920′s Style… Go ahead, be a copycat!

The Cloche Hat

Above is Louise Brooks wearing a cloche hat. I love her pouty mouth, dark eyes and bobbed hair. This hat became a staple for flappers in the later 1920′s, and it was even copied by some of the older generation who scoffed at the flapper lifestyle. Women cut their hair in short bobs, and let the little bell-shaped hat frame their faces. The cloche evolved, sometimes having little to no brim at all.

 I recently bought this one pictured above from Target, at a steal for only $12.99!

Loose-Fitting Dresses

The women pictured above look so modern to me. We can thank the cyclical nature of fashion for that. I want to link arms and take a stroll with them, chatting about fashion or the local hangouts. Notice that the woman on the far right is wearing a cloche without a brim.

Although our hemlines are shorter today, you can find similar styles of dresses at many major department stores.

 Although today we show a little more skin, we totally copy the flapper fashion. Nordstrom carries this dress pictured above, by BCBGMAXAZRIA. Look at the baggy silhouette, the pleated skirt, and the lowered waistline. Very flapper-esque.

Strappy Heels

In most of the pictures I have seen, flappers are shown wearing close-toed heels. Many of them have little straps.

I like these Cole Haan pumps, shown above. They are an updated suede version, with the heel a little higher and the strap across the ankle instead of the top of the foot.

Strings of Pearls

Many flappers wore long necklaces of beads or pearls. I own a short strand, but have been coveting a longer pair for a while. Maybe even one that I could wrap around or knot.

 I like the length of this strand pictured above. You could wear these pearls a variety of ways.

Mary Miley’s Roaring Twenties blog

I am writing a fiction novel set in 1923, so I have been researching the 1920′s extensively for the last few months. Luckily I discovered Mary Miley’s Roaring Twenties blog, a fun site dedicated to the decade. I have been reading it ever since!

I love all of the fascinating facts Mary has uncovered. I also love how she researches the decade using primary sources- newspapers, vaudeville playbills, advertisements, etc. This has inspired me to do the same. It allows you to eliminate a lot of opinion (if it is expert opinion, that is a different story… i’m talking random Joe’s opinion). I am hoping this type of research will give my novel some authenticity.

I am excited for the release of The Artist on DVD. The date is set for June 26 at red box, and you bet I will be one of the first in line! Isn’t Berenice Bejo stunning?

I imagine my main female character looking similar to her.

Since it is nap time for my two-year-old, and my eight-month-old is already asleep, I am going to go write a new chapter in my novel.

Fingerprints

Over my week-long hiatus we call Spring Break, my husband and I made the long trek from Utah to Arizona to visit my lovely grandmother.  She will be 96 years old this June, and due to her health, she has not been up to visit my kids. I feel bad I don’t get there often enough. With children strapped in their car seats and a cooler filled with snacks, we hit the road and headed for Scottsdale.

My grandmother’s home has always been spotless, decorated with expensive (and highly breakable) china. When we were kids, my mother was always nervous about taking us there, in fear of messing it up.

The week before we arrived, two of my sisters visited, taking along my two-year-old nephew. While sitting on the couch chatting with Grandma, she pointed over to her glass back door. Grandma said, “Do you see the fingerprints on the glass over there?”

I smiled and nodded, thinking immediately of my fingerprinted refrigerator door back home.

“Grayson had splashed in some milk,” she said, “and touched the back door. My cleaner went to wipe it up, but I told to her to leave them, because i’d like to look at them a while.” She smiled and looked at the smudged glass.

It’s moments like these that are so small, so seemingly unimportant, that give me perspective. I felt that familiar choke in my throat, and my eyes teared up.

How many times have I felt frustrated with my house, the PB&J smears on my cupboards, the tiny toy cars I find lodged in the couch, the vacuum, the bedsheets?  And here is my grandmother, who has been living alone for the past five years, unable to go and do as she pleases. My grandmother with the spotless home, who now wants to leave fingerprints on the glass, just so she can look at them and remember the laughter.  I suppose she looks at those fingerprints and thinks of the children she has borne, that have now grown old in their own way, and their children, who have grown to be parents themselves.

I am constantly reminded to enjoy these moments of parental chaos, yet sometimes I feel so overwhelmed. Surely I will miss these days. I don’t think I will ever be able to clean off Camden’s hand prints without getting a little choked up. Time goes by too fast; that saying is a cliche for a reason. It does slip from your fingers. I feel time pulling me through life. I want my little boy to stay little, my daughter to always fit in her tiny pajamas and dresses. This all fades, and maybe someday down the road, I will be in the same position as my grandmother. Hopefully I will feel like I have cherished these fleeting times as a mother with young children.

A chapter from my untitled, unfinished manuscript

This isn’t an excerpt from my 1920′s novel. This is one that I started last summer, but failed to finish because school started back up and then I had my daughter the beginning of October. Maybe I will finish it one day, bu I got stuck and then I started obsessing about my new novel.

I have no idea where this came from… let’s blame he pregnancy hormones that were coursing through my veins.

I was picturing this one as a young adult piece, a dystopian novel perhaps. But honestly, I had a hard time writing in a style that would be popular with teens, so I canned it.

I still love my opening chapter, so I thought I would share. Enjoy!

***

I was created in vitro, in glass. Room C24 of the Medical wing, third floor, Genetic Engineering.  My parents were not in love; in fact, my father has never seen me, and my mother has no idea whose genes paired up with hers.  I was planned alright, but it only took a few minutes. Her DNA was put into a system, a results page appeared.  A lab coat made one simple click, and out popped a vial that would eventually result in my birth.  I was prearranged, engineered for the compatibility of two strangers’ DNA, rather than their compatibility as parents. Absent were any of the antiquated feelings of passion or love, only a clean, white room, ready and waiting to create.

I only spent nine months with my mother, and once I was born, the relationship ended. “Father” and “mother” are old-fashioned, archaic terms to our world. “Anonymous Donor” is more like it. I know it is better this way. I owe my very life to the superiority of our system. Had I not been a product of a complicated formula, the chances of survival would be nearly impossible. I’m grateful for the Commune.

Even so, every time I pass an adult with green eyes, I take a second look.  and hold my breath. I have to wonder. Is it you?

Loose Ends

My name is Kelli. I am a serial project-starter. It’s been a few hours since my last unfinished project…

I am the type of person that starts out cleaning my house, and three hours later I am knee-deep in photos and memorabilia from my childhood, getting lost in the comfort of nostalgia. That’s me.

So it shouldn’t be surprising that I do this with my writing. But somehow, it still bothers me.

I spent last summer furiously writing a manuscript for a novel. It started out as an idea that popped into my head while eating fortune cookies with my son at Pei Wei. I went home and wrote for hours that night, which continued throughout the summer. I would write down ideas into my smartphone while grocery shopping. I called my mom to talk about my characters. I even dreamed of these characters.

In August, school started up again (I’m a teacher). I found some time here and there to write during my prep hour or lunch hour. Assignments and papers started trickling in; my time was crowded. The manuscript grudgingly made its way to the end of my to-do list.

In October, I gave birth to our baby girl. I wasn’t as sad to put the book on hold for her. I spent the next few months enjoying my new baby. My free time was spent napping or playing with my toddler.

So here I am, sixth months later. As my daughter starts to figure out that humans sleep at night, I am finally getting back some of my free time. You would think I would be excited about finishing my manuscript, right?

Instead, I find myself researching the 1920s for my NEW idea.

Perhaps this is how the great authors wrote. Perhaps they bounced back between their novels. But I doubt it.

Perhaps my first manuscript was more of a practice book, a training ground for the writer I will become.

I have a book that I want to finish, another one that I can’t wait to start. And perhaps a few more ideas stuffed up my sleeves. Maybe one day I will tie all of the loose ends to my almost-finished-but-not-quite projects. until then, I’m just going to give in to the distraction of creativity and hope that it pays off.

How do you motivate yourself to finish the projects you start?

Hello world!

This blog is a creative outlet for my writing.

Aside from being an aspiring writer, I am also a wife, a mother of two, and a teacher.

My goal is to write on this blog once a week, whether I put a chapter of my book or something that has been on my mind.

I am doing this more for myself, but if you have stumbled across this blog, feel free to comment.