Wordage, after all, is not the sole consideration. Writing a story can be a strange and fearsome business. You want so badly to get it just right. You try so hard and judge yourself so severely that you may succeed only in confusing yourself. Perhaps you’ve written many thousands of words and you’re sorely dissatisfied with them. It’s all chaos and you can’t seem to get on an orderly course. That was my next problem. Wordage, yes, but also an unwillingness, a fear of submitting myself to the tortures of actually turning out a story.
My solution, typically enough was to try to sidestep the problem. Since there seemed to be no way of writing a story without plunging myself into utter despair, I decided I would not write a story. Instead, I would write a simulation of a story.
My simulations are the same length as a story, and they are made up of narration, dialogue, exposition , and all the other elements of a proper story. The difference is that in a proper story the words you choose are vitally important; in a simulation they are of no importance whatever. When I write a simulation, it doesn’t matter if my images are trite and my dialogue leaden. It isn’t a story, remember, but only something like a story. It’s a formal exercise rather than a piece of careful creation. I never consciously attempt to work into a simulation the beauty, precision, humor, and pathos that a proper story must contain.
Using this method has taught me that I have a certain gift for self-deception. Curious to relate, I’ve discovered that—except for a few rough spots here and there—my simulated stories are very much like the real ones I’ve written.
What this obviously means is that I can only write as I write, no matter how hard I try. Trying too hard, in fact, has an adverse effect on my performance. The whole purpose of simulation is to work rapidly with a certain lightness of touch, as one would do a watercolor rather than an oil painting. This method does work. But there are a couple of obstructive thoughts I have to watch out for. The first is, “Hell, this is going badly; I’d better start again.” The other is, “Hey, this is going well; I’d better tighten up and make it really good.” Both of these judgments are counterproductive.
Thinking, not writing, is sometimes the problem. Various ideas must be regarded from different angles before I can begin writing. Critical decisions must be formulated. Alternatives must be weighed. Bits of data need to be juggled, fitted into place, discarded, or altered. Such problems are elusive. They refuse to solidify. I make some notes, or go for a long walk, or discuss it with my wife, but nothing seems to help much. It’s all so nebulous and unclear. There are too many things to consider at once, and no means of arranging my data. At times like this, it can be helpful to make a diagram. Here’s the sort of diagram I find useful. You pencil a key word in the corner of a sheet of paper and draw a circle around it. Then you draw radiating lines from it and write, as succinctly as possible, the various considerations associated with the idea. The resulting diagram sums up your knowledge on the subject. The entire question and all of its ramifications can be taken in at a glance, enabling you to see what you have and, equally important, what you don’t have. Hookups between parts of the diagram will suggest themselves. Pertinent areas can be enclosed or connected. Different colors can be used for emphasis. New data can easily be added. Areas of special significance can be removed as the bases of new diagrams or sub-daigrams.
Working with diagrams is fun. At first I made mine with an ordinary fountain pen. Then I switched to colored Pentels. For greater efficiency, I worked out a set of color-coded symbols, which was well worth the time it took. I also experimented with different modes of lettering to improve clarity.
My diagrams grew larger and more complex, whereupon I switched to larger sheets of paper. After that, I got into colored inks. The commercial brands weren’t quite right, so I began to mix my own. But the system still lacked something. It was becoming too mechanical and lackluster. So I began to illustrate my diagrams, first with little sketches, then with line and wash drawings, and finally with watercolors. My skill as an illustrator left something to be desired, so I began looking for a good art course. Unfortunately, I had to drop the whole thing and get some salable writing done. Still, it was not a total waste. When a market opens up for fancy diagrams, I’ll be all set.
My trials and tribulations have brought me to one firm conclusion—namely, that confusion and anxiety will never be eliminated altogether from the process of creative writing. Ideas frequently have to incubate in an author’s subconscious until something clicks into place. Often, at least in my case, this gestation period is allowed to persist too long, which serves as a detriment to the later stages of the work. You can reach a stage where the idea should be hatched, but something is still amiss and you don’t know what it is. It sits there, a soggy dark mass in your mind, a subtle, unpleasantness that will not permit you to continue. What to do then?
There is an extraordinarily direct method that I’ve devised to answer this very problem. A psychologist would probably describe it as a catharsis. A typical session finds me talking to myself aloud, asking and answering questions.
“Well, Bob, what exactly is wrong?”
“The story stinks, that’s what’s wrong.”
“But how, precisely, does it stink?”
“It moves too slowly, for one thing.”
“So how could you speed it up?”
“I don’t know.”
“Of course you know, Bob. Name a way in which you could speed it up.”
“Well, I suppose I could delete the two-thousand word description of a sunset on Mars.”
“Would that solve the problem?”
“No. My characters stink, too.”
“In what way?”
“They just sit around wishing they were somewhere else.”
“What could you do about that?”
“Give them something to do, I guess.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.... Wait. I’ve got it. They can look for an alien civilization!”
This method works well, but it does demand a certain degree of concentration. That’s the only tough part about it. Occasionally, I can’t even get my questions into focus, let alone the answers. At such times, my solo dialogue is apt to go like this:
“Well, Bob, how’s the lad?”
“I’m fine, thanks. How about you?”
“Oh, I’m fine.”
“That’s nice.”
“Yes, it is, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Was there some problem you wanted to discuss with me?
“Problem? Oh, yes, it’s this story.”
“What story?”
“The one I’ve been trying to write for the last three months.”
“Oh, that story.”
“Yes.”
“You mean the story with a two-thousand word description of a Martian sunset?”
“That’s the one.”
“Have you got any ideas?”
“About what?”
“About the story, Bob. How can I fix it?”
“Well, you could always expand the description of that sunset…”
And so it goes—you win some and you lose some.
All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
“The Eye of Reality” copyright © 1982 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Omni, 1982.
“The Language of Love” copyright © 1957 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine, May 1957.
“The Accountant” copyright © 1954 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared,
in an earlier version, in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, July 1954.
“A Wind Is Rising” copyright © 1957 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared, in an earlier version, in Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine, July 1957.
“The Robot Who Looked Like Me” copyright © 1973 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared, in an earlier version, in Cosmopolitan, 1973.
“The Mnemone” copyright © 1971 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in New Worlds, 1971
“Warm” copyright © 1953 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared, in an earlier version, in Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine, June 1953.
“The Native Problem” copyright © 1956 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared, in an earlier version, in Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine, December 1956
“Fishing Season” © 1953 by Robert Sheckley. First Appeared In Thrilling Wonder Stories, August 1953
“Shape” copyright © 1953 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared, in an earlier version, in Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine, November 1953, under the title “Keep Your Shape.”
“Beside Still Waters” copyright © 1953 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared, in an earlier version, in Amazing Stories, November 1953.
“Silversmith Wishes” copyright © 1977 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Playboy, 1977.
“Meanwhile, Back at the Bromide” copyright © 1962 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Playboy, 1962.
“Fool’s Mate” copyright © 1953 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared, in an earlier version, in Astounding Science Fiction Magazine, March 1953.
“Pilgrimage to Earth” copyright © 1956 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Playboy, September 1956, under the title “Love, Inc.”
“All the Things You Are” copyright © 1956 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine, July 1956.
“The Store of the Worlds” copyright © 1959 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Playboy, September 1959, under the title “World of Heart’s Desire.”
“Seventh Victim” copyright © 1953 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared, in an earlier version, in Galaxy Science Fiction Magazine, April 1953.
“Cordle to Onion to Carrot” copyright © 1969 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Playboy, December 1969.
“Is That What People Do?” copyright © 1978 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Anticipations, 1978.
“The Prize of Peril” copyright © 1959 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, May 1958.
“Fear in the Night” copyright © 1956 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared, in an earlier version, in Today’s Woman, 1952.
“Can You Feel Anything When I Do This?” copyright © 1969 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Playboy, August 1969.
“The Battle” copyright © 1954 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in IF Science Fiction, September 1954.
“The Monsters” copyright © 1953 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared, in an earlier version, in The Magazine of Fantasy and Science Fiction, March 1953.
“The Petrified World” copyright © 1971 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in IF Science Fiction, February 1968.
“Five Minutes Early” copyright © 1982 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Twilight Zone Magazine, 1982.
“Miss Mouse and the Fourth Dimension” copyright © 1981 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Twilight Zone Magazine, December 1981.
“The Skag Castle” copyright © 1956 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Fantastic Universe, 1956.
“The Helping Hand” copyright © 1981 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Twilight Zone Magazine, 1981.
“The Last Days of (Parallel?) Earth” copyright © 1980 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared, in an earlier version, in After the Fall, an anthology edited by Robert Sheckley.
“The Future Lost” copyright © 1980 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in OMNI, 1980.
“Wild Talents, Inc.” © 1953 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared, in an earlier version, in Fantastic, October 1953.
“The Swamp” copyright © 1981 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Twilight Zone Magazine, October 1981.
“The Future of Sex:Speculative Journalism” © 1982. First appeared, in an earlier version, in Puritan Magazine, 1982.
“Life of Anybody” copyright © 1984 by Robert Sheckley. Published for the first time in this collection.
“Goodbye Forever to Mr. Pain” copyright © 1979 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Destinies, January-February 1979.
“The Shaggy Average American Man Story” copyright © 1979 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Gallery, 1979.
“Shootout in the Toy Shop” copyright © 1981 by Robert Sheckley. First appeared in Twilight Zone Magazine, 1981.
“How Pro Writers Write—Or Try To” © 1978 by Robert Sheckley. First Appeared in Omni, 1978.
Copyright © 1984 by Robert Sheckley
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Is That What People Do? Page 42