The Steps in Writing a Novel June 28, 2012

I refuse to comment on whether or not this is autobiographical.

1. Around 1 am, have a brilliant idea for a novel.

2. The next day, write the first three chapters in a burst of inspiration.

3. Get a little stuck. Take a break for a few days.

4. Write the fourth chapter, but have a little bit of a brain freeze about what should come next.

5. Instead of going further, edit the first few chapters. It’s best to make them coherent as possible before really attacking the next couple chapters.

6. Write chapters five and six after realizing that you are an “artist” and have a story to tell.

7. Start to realize that the story is too autobiographical. Try to think of ways to make the novel a little more unique.

8. Write chapter 7, which ends up being half the length of the previous six chapters, simply because you can’t think of anything else to say.

9. Put the novel on the shelf for a few weeks, or months. Whatever it takes.

10. Start a short story, which will be abandoned about 11 paragraphs in.

11. Get annoyed at yourself for ignoring the novel. Write one more chapter.

12. Realize you have very little interest in the main characters anymore. Maybe this could be a novella?

13. Send the novel to a friend to see if they can give you feedback.

14. Get no more feedback then “I love it.” Gives inspiration to write another chapter.

15. Back on the shelf for another few weeks, or months, or however long it takes to want to write again.

16. Have a great idea for the rest of the book. Outline the remaining chapters.

17. Look back a few days later, and outline is terrible. Try another short story.

18. Outline again. This time, aliens may or may not be involved.

19. Get really frustrated at yourself for not sticking to anything. Write one more chapter.

20. Now, you really hate the characters. They are so incredibly boring and not life-like. Re-edit the chapters, finding more things you can’t stand about the novel and “correcting” them, only to be re-edited later.

21. Blog to avoid writing a novel.

22. Repeat steps 9-21 until book is finished or thrown out of the window.

Casting A Type June 22, 2012

I found this article online, and I found it incredibly fascinating to see how people with disabilities respond to television characters with a similar handicap.

http://juststimming.wordpress.com/2012/06/04/someone-who-moves-like-you/

Since it debuted, I haven’t exactly hidden the fact that I think Community was the best show on television, not just for the breadth of humor but for the complexity of its characters. While most sitcoms are just looking to fill a role with a one-dimensional representation of a certain type of person that works for the show, Community has a lot more depth and features a full cast of characters that are not simple.

In her blog post, an autistic writer named Julia talks about how Abed Nadir (played by Danny Pudi) is the first autistic character on television that she can actually identify with. We all know that there are numerous characters on television who appear to be on the autism spectrum–House, Sherlock, Sheldon Cooper, etc. But Julia found Abed to be the first character that wasn’t a characture, and that it made her finally feel like there people on TV like her. The others just don’t cut it. As she writes: They are socially awkward/anti-social/socially maladapted, eccentric geniuses free of any serious adaptive functioning limitations, motor issues, sensory sensitivities, or language differences, able to manage independently in all major areas of daily living, with a bonus side of savant skills and the empathic range of a rock. They’re awesome, but they’re a stock character, and they manage to simultaneously hint at the autistic experience without actually meaning it.

However, Abed is different. Abed Nadir walked around like a bird or a giraffe, and he couldn’t do thumbs-up and he talked too fast and knew too many things and he was sharp and suspicious and easy and trusting. He did things that were simultaneously uncanny/creepy and sweet/thoughtful, and he couldn’t do bills or read clocks but he could tell psychiatrists to fuck off and he could fight with his best friend when his best friend tried to take charge, and he was jealous and sharp with his crushes. He had friends and private worlds, and all the scars that come from growing up a mistake, and things were imperfect and messy and painful and visceral but he always emerged okay.

I do think we forget sometimes that our television characters don’t represent the groups that they are supposed to, simply because it’s easier to write for one-dimensional people than it is for three-dimensional. A good read that gets the LFS top recommendation.