I Hate You, The Slog

The slog hates you

I hate you, the slog.

 

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

I hate you, the slog.

 

You are not very nice
and now I’ve said it twenty-twice.

 

Bene scribete.

Names

Naming characters is an important, sometimes fun, sometimes tricky part of the fiction-writing process, and is something I alternately love and dread.  A name is a symbol that represents someone, both offering identity to those it is attached to, and in turn adopting it from them.

I find that there are generally three ways (or a mix thereof) to come up with and decide upon those monikers:

  • Namesakes.  One simple way to name a character is to do so (in part or in whole) after someone else – someone you know, someone from history, or even another character from some other work.  Such a name will probably already have strong connotations for you, and those might just be appropriate for who you’re writing.
  • Meaning.  The advantage writers have over parents in the naming department is the foreknowledge of who this person or creature they’re creating will be, and can choose a name that is symbolically fitting (or ironically incongruous).  This can be in the form of a name that’s also a word in the operative language (Will, Victor, Dawn, Amber, etc.), a word from another language, or something suitable trolled from babynames.com.  (>^-‘)>
  • Aesthetics.  Often, just focusing on how a name sounds and looks is all you need to do.  I tend to lean mostly in this direction, relying heavily on phonetics when working out what to call characters.  Sounds used together in specific ways can evoke qualities of roughness, delicacy, power, playfulness, and a number of other feelings to subconsciously color the impression of the named.  Spelling should also be a consideration; the visual appeal of different letter arrangements can have the same sort of impact.  All of this goes for whether you’re picking a common name or making up a new one (though I could probably do a whole separate post on the latter!).

 

However you end up choosing your names, there is one thing I always recommend.

 

Tip of a fishName Your Characters As Soon As Possible.

The less you’ve decided about a character, the easier it is to settle on a name.  At least that’s always been the case for me.  Sometimes, the name will even help slightly with further direction!

The more important a character is, the more true this becomes.  If you have a strong image of the character in mind by the time you start thinking seriously about what to call them, picking a name that feels right can be a daunting task.  It means you have all the more context and nuance to map to that all-important referential symbol.  It’ll seem like you have to find a name that already represents all facets of the character, rather than letting the name come to do so naturally as the character develops.

 

But what about you?  Do you agonize over the subtleties of your characters’ names?  How do you like to go about choosing them?

 

Bene scribete.

Giving Criticism

Last week, I talked about getting criticism for one’s writing.  Today, I thought I’d do a companion piece discussing the other side of the coin.

So, let’s take a look at some of the things to consider when reviewing someone else’s stuff (some of these points will naturally be reciprocal to last week’s!).

 

A red pen.

 

  • Try not to volunteer to critique a piece if you can’t reasonably expect to have the time or motivation to get back to the writer about it.  Silence can be even more disheartening than a bad review.
  • Find out what type of feedback the writer is looking for.  It’s not too productive to pick apart the story when all that’s sought is some copyediting, and dealing only with semantic issues when what’s needed is advice on the plot can be equally unhelpful.  If you’re going for the whole package, sometimes it’s beneficial to do a couple go-throughs – first for the feel of the narrative flow, and second with an editor’s eye.
  • Ask the writer what’s caught the attention of other readers, and lend your thoughts on those subjects.  Multiple viewpoints are great for helping the writer gauge what to focus on.
  • Look for and comment on both what’s working and what isn’t.  It’s incredibly unlikely that you’ll be handed a piece that’s either completely without issue or entirely without merit.  Focusing solely on the positive won’t help the writer improve it, and concentrating only on the negative can be discouraging – either way giving a false impression of the piece’s current state.
  • Be specific whenever you can.  Explaining why you do or do not like something is more useful than a mere thumbs-up or -down.  At the same time, if something stands out one way or the other, but you aren’t quite sure why, saying that much is still better than nothing at all.
  • Learn the writer’s tolerance level for directness.  Some you can be blunt with, where some require a little more creative tact.  Negative comments can be phrased positively – rather than “this is bad”, say “this could be improved with blah“.
  • “Scrap it” is a last resort.  Today’s world is cut-happy and proud of it – sometimes it’s the right answer, but a little too often it’s just the easy, lazy way out.  I’m not talking about a sentence here or a paragraph there, but entire passages, characters, and plot elements.  Every sequence has some kind of purpose behind its presence in a piece, and rarely will its essence be fundamentally unsalvageable.  If a scene isn’t working, think about how to address why that is before giving up on it altogether.  Can something be added to liven it up or condensed to improve the pace?  Can it be placed somewhere more appropriate or combined with a similar sequence?  Can its basics be reworked into other parts of the story?  Just don’t be too quick to advocate throwing away what could be made a functional, augmentative aspect of the narrative.  I realize it goes against the current popular mindset, but tell me you’ve never watched the deleted scenes on a DVD and wished they would have kept one or two of them in the film.  (>^-‘)>
  • That said, do look for ways to improve narrative economy.  Getting the same ideas across in a cleaner, more concise manner is almost always a good thing.
  • Don’t be offended if not all of your suggestions are taken.  Remember that it’s the writer’s story, and he or she must ultimately decide what aligns with the creative vision.
  • Lastly, you don’t have to be a writer or a grammarian yourself to provide good feedback.  A reader’s perspective on how the piece works as a whole is perhaps the most important thing of all!

 

Bene Scribete.

Getting Criticism

Feedback is an imperative part of the writing process – assuming you are writing to be read by others.  Finding and taking it, however, is not always so easy.  Some are fortunate enough to have friends and family take an active interest in their work, but some have to put themselves a little more out there to be heard.

Here are some things I like to keep in mind when looking for and getting critique:

  • Convey what kind of feedback you’re seeking.  Do you just want mechanical errors pointed out?  Phrasing suggestions?  Or simply overall thoughts on the flow of the story?  Readers will have an easier time helping you if they know what they’re supposed to be looking for.
  • If possible, find readers who are interested in the genre you’re writing.  They will be more likely to have an interest in reading your story, and they’ll be a better representative of your audience.
  • Be pleasant, friendly, and easy to deal with.  Remember that you’re looking for a favor.
  • Swap drafts with other writers.  You’re more likely to get something back when it’s a fair trade, and you’ll typically get a different but equally useful type of feedback than from a strictly reader’s perspective.  Another writer will better understand where you’re coming from, and can share in your excitement for the undertaking.
  • Be patient.  Going over someone else’s writing can be quite the chore.  Keep in mind that no one else is going to have the interest and investment in the piece that you are, and people are busy.  Some will volunteer to read it, but never actually find the incentive to do so.  Some will start it, and not be interested enough to finish.  If they don’t get back to you, try not to take it personally – just move on and seek out others.
  • Get a few new readers for different draft stages.  What once was can color impressions of what now is.  A fresh perspective is often handy, as the eventual audience will never see the old stuff.
  • Encourage negative feedback.  Particularly with close friends and family, who will gladly tell you what they liked, but often shy away from pointing out what’s wrong.  Let your readers know you want honesty, and if you think you can take it, invite them to be brutal.  Sometimes you’ll have to prod a little – if you’re aware of what you feel are some problem areas, ask specifically what might be done better with them.  And, of course, make sure to take the criticism gracefully (remember that it’s only one person’s opinion).  Further discussion on points is all well and good, but if you get ornery and defensive, you’ll discourage future honesty.  The bad stuff may be harder to hear, but it’s usually more useful.
  • On the other hand, do accept the purely positive feedback from a few people.  The praise from your staunchest supporters can be an invaluable affirmation to your resolve to keep at it, where only critical evaluation can leave you feeling discouraged.  Naturally, keep it balanced – too much flattery won’t help you improve.
  • Not everyone will address the same points, so get your readers’ takes on each other’s opinions.  One person’s thoughts are just that, but when you find where many coincide, you start to get a clearer picture of what’s working and what isn’t.
  • Consider every suggestion, and take about half of them.  It may be difficult, but try to imagine how your story would work with each recommendation you receive, giving it serious thought but acknowledging that it is just another option.  Let your mind fully process its benefits and downsides.  Some will click, some won’t.  If you find yourself not taking any of them, you’re probably being too stubborn.  But if you’re taking all of them, you might be too compromising with, or lacking a solid grasp on, what you’re trying to do.
  • Once you’ve received and had time to mull over your feedback, edit away!

 

Ew

I hate White-Out.

 

On one final unrelated note, if you missed your chance last month to get a free copy of the Kindle edition of Shauna Scheets‘s The Tower of Boran, you can do so today (10/13) until midnight (U.S. Pacific).

 

Bene Scribete.

The Tower of Boran

I’d like to welcome my good friend, Shauna Scheets, to WordPress!

Her debut novel, The Tower of Boran, released this week.

 

"The Tower of Boran" by Shauna Scheets

In the night sky over Caillte Saíocht, not a single star shines, and those who live below it must fear the corrupting touch of night-fever. The crystal gleam cast from the Tower of Boran is all that stands between the realm and utter darkness, but its power has long been fading.

On her sixteenth birthday, Seraetia prepares to be named a priestess of the Sanctum, destined to restore the tower’s light. As the events of this long-awaited day unfold, however, she learns that not everything is as it appears. With the life she thought she knew rapidly unravelling around her, Seraetia must ally with those who know the truth behind the land’s peril, and fight to save her home from something darker than the night.

 

As a special promotion, the Kindle version will be free to download all day tomorrow (September 30).

 

Bene scribete.

Zero Drafting

Last week, I talked about a writing exercise that helps get my brain working faster when my pace has slowed to a crawl.  After spewing out a lot of nonsense that way, I wanted to see if I could apply that high-output word vomit toward something a little more productive, and eventually gravitated toward my current approach of beginning with a hectically speed-written, gloriously sloppy version of each scene in The Book.  A “Draft 0”, if you will.

The basics of zero-drafting are similar to the exercise, only the goal is to try to follow the points of your story-planning rather than letting your mind lead you at random.  You still write as quickly as you can without stopping; the garbage can be cleaned out later.  I started by only doing ten minutes at a time, taking a short break between stints, then moved on to doing a whole scene at once, and now I’ll do an entire chapter in a single go (usually about a two-hour endeavor).  The immediate results are truly cringe-worthy, but that’s O.K.  No one else has to look at this stuff (…for real, this time!).  It gives you a basic framework to follow for the first legitimate draft; some passages will have to be tossed, but many might only need a little editing, and you may even find that the narrative took a few unplanned but ultimately beneficial turns because of the pressure and spontaneity – ideas that could have been missed if you had instead plodded carefully through the first run with an overfocused mind.

Because of my deep-seated need for precision and my perpetual worry of screwing things up, there’s always a build-up of anxiety before I start a draft 0, but once I get rolling with it, it’s extremely liberating.  Regardless of how terrible it is when finished, it’s still a big step forward in the process of getting the book together, and it actually leaves me with a sense of accomplishment.  That’s not something to take for granted; in a solitary activity like writing, self-encouragement is imperative to sticking with it.

In any event, the issue at core here is the subject of today’s Fish Tip.

 

Tip of a fishWrite First.  Edit Second.

It has to be some sort of writing axiom.  Things tend to go a lot more smoothly if you get your ideas down first, and then organize them afterward.  If you edit first, and only write down a sentence after you’ve revised it several times mentally, then the process slows dramatically, and you leave yourself at the mercy of the slog (not to mention it will likely need to be edited again, anyway).

It’s a sentiment we’re all familiar with, I’m sure, but it’s something that certainly still gives me trouble.  One of those things that’s easier said than done!

 

Bene scribete.

Writing Exercise

If, like me, you’re constantly bogged down by the slog, then you probably understand the frustration that comes with, well, writing too dang slow.  In an effort to take the fight to the troublesome pest and kick that writing into motion, I’ve come up with a little exercise (though I’m sure I’m hardly the first to do so) to help encourage getting those words down more freely.

It’s fairly simple.  Take a character from your story, pick a starting place or incident, and then write without stopping for ten minutes.  Without stopping.  Don’t correct mistakes, don’t touch backspace, don’t think too hard, just follow the flow of your thought process.  Write whatever pops into your head, as quickly as you can; if your mind is only a sentence ahead of your hands, you’re doing great – you might be surprised what your brain will come up with when you force it into high gear.  It doesn’t have to be canonical, it doesn’t have to be good, it doesn’t even have to make sense, so long at the end of those ten minutes you have something that vaguely resembles a chunk of narrative (I’ll usually get around 500-600 words).  The best part is that you can tell your self-consciousness to take a hike, as you never have to show these to anyone.

 

So here’s one of mine that I’ll show to everyone.  (>^-‘)>  I started with the primary protagonist from The Book, put her next to a river, and everything else just came as I typed.

  The vermillion dragon lay peacefully next to the riverbed, organizing sticks in a star-like pattern, setting the end of each one next to the middle of the one before, at a slight angle so that the entire design would be saw-like. The last one was imperfect, so she began again.
  “Um…hello?” a gentle voice appeared beside her.
  Xenasi started, turning her head to look at the one who invaded her solace. It was a deer.
  “I am a deer,” said the deer.
  “I see that you are…” she said warily. “Though I’m not sure why you can speak.”
  “I am the kind of deer that can talk,” he said bashfully.
  “There is such a thing?”
  “Before you stands proof that there is.” He slumped down into a sitting position. “I have a problem.”
  “Why would you approach a dragon with a problem? Would it not occur to you that I might rather eat you than help you?”
  “It occurred.” He squinted and wrenched his face and looked away. “But I thought that you wouldn’t.”
  Xenasi blinked. “I…I guess I already ate. What should I call you?”
  “Malbulous,” the deer sighed.
  It was a ponderous name. Though it seemed unlikely to be the source of his problems. “What is this problem that you would approach a dragon to help?”
  “Well,” the deer whapped a hoof against the ground in frustration. “Well, my super-awesome-doe-girlfriend left me.
  “And…what? Why…um…what?”
  “She left me for another deer. A stupid buck whose antlers are way too big and he’s probably trying to compensate for something with them. So, anyway, I want you to eat him instead of me. He is bigger than me, so you’ll have a much more satisfying meal. I promise.”
  Xenasi had just told the deer that she had already eaten, so she was not sure how to respond. I suppose I could stash the carcass for later. “I suppose I can help you. Where is this other buck?”
  “Just down the river a way,” replied Malbulous. “If you hurry, you can probably catch him. He’s probably just…getting all over my doefriend.” He got up, but only so his subsequent sulk would have more room to express itself.
  “What about your girlfriend? Do you want her alive?”
  “Of course…”
  Xenasi stood and shook off for some reason. “What are you prepared to offer me for this favor?”
  “The tasty body of that stupid doe-stealing buckhead. Remember?”
  “Well, I thought getting that would just come out of doing that,” the dragon nonsensed.
  The deer began to gallop away. “This waaaaaaaay!”
  Xenasi narrowed her eyes, but spread her wings and took flight, easily outpacing the deer and making her way down the river, eyes searching for the other buck of whom he spoke.
  It was only after a few minutes that she came across him, getting all cuddly with the doe who was once with Malbulous. Unsure of why she was cooperating, Xenasi swooped down and lunged at the unsuspecting buck. The buck jumped in fright, and tried to dart away, but was not so fast as the approaching dragon, and came to meet his end below her claws and between her teeth.

 

That’s the kind of thing that I end up with when I do these.  Just a stupid little passage written spontaneously while barreling over the slog.  I hope it goes without saying that it’s not an accurate representation of the character or my finished writing.  (>^-‘)>  Or would have gone, as I just said it.  You know what I mean.

Anyway, it’s something that helps me loosen up a little when I’m feeling brainclogged.  What kind of techniques do you use to battle your inhibitions?

Next time, we’ll take a look at extending this exercise into zero-drafting.  Until then, bene scribete.

The Process

I’ve read a lot of opinions from a lot of accomplished writers on how one should go about every little aspect of writing; enough to see that pretty much every one of those opinions is contradicted by someone else’s.  What does that mean?  The bad news is that it’s fairly indicative that there’s not really a tried-and-true “right way” to do anything involved in getting that book put together.  The good news is that there isn’t really a “wrong way”, either.  It just comes down to experimenting a bit and seeing what makes the most sense to you and the story you’re trying to tell.  This goes for narrative mechanics as well as the manner by which you get words on the page.  Be open to trying new approaches, but don’t believe anyone who tells you that whatever method works for you is bad.

But, since we’re here, this is my own take:

We can divide the writing process into three phases.  Hey, process and phase start with a ‘P’, so let’s just go ahead and call them the three ‘P’s of writing, because rules and sets of things are apparently more appealing with forced alliteration.

 

P!

A-P-ling

Phase One: Plotting

This is the planning stage.  It involves creating characters, settings, and plot points.  It’s doing research and putting notes together.  It’s all the preparatory work that goes into getting oneself something to write about.  I spend most of this phase in Evernote.  I started with separate files on characters, settings, outlines, and so on, but I ultimately discovered that, despite my sometimes-crippling organizational tendencies, one giant free-form file was more conducive to my creative methods.  When I get an idea, I just want to put it down somewhere, and not having to think about where to put it is more liberating than it may seem.  The less you have to meta-think about what you’re thinking, the easier it is to keep the slog at bay.  When I’m on a roll, I don’t need to switch files for different idea categories, and can freely brain-dump on whatever tangent arises.

Actually, there are still a couple other ancillary files I keep around for reference.  One is an Excel sheet which keeps track of the scene order (indicating the perspective character and a brief description of each), and the other is a grammar/vocabulary sheet for the book’s made-up space fay language (a topic for its own post!), but both of these are compiled after the fact from the primary free-form file.

A lot of planning comes down to mining yourself for ideas and figuring out how things should fit together.  So, my notes consist of a lot of talking to myself in written form.  I’ll ask myself a question about some story element, then I’ll jot down any answers that come to mind.  That usually leads to sub-questions and more strings of possible answers to those, and ends up with a big block of text that, while not pretty to look at, has helped me make a decision or flesh out a concept a lot better than just sitting there thinking about it would.  My notes may not be easy to navigate, but hey, that’s what CTRL-F is for.  (>^-‘)>

Before I start a chapter, I’ll make a high-level outline of ideas for scenes I want to include, which characters should get perspective, and what I want to accomplish with each.  Scenes that don’t make the cut often end up working their way in the next time around.  Once I have a handle on what I’m doing with the chapter, it’s time to start typing it out.

 

Phase Two: Penning

Next comes the actual writing stage.  It’s getting those ideas down into some kind of narrative.  As much as ‘writing’ is the synecdoche we use for crafting fiction, it is by far the smallest part of it.  I spend my writing days in Word.  My notes may be a jumble, but I’m a bit more organized here.  I keep each chapter as a separate document, leaving my current draft of each in the root of my writing folder, and putting older drafts in a subfolder when done with them.  When I want to make a full draft, I compile them together and label which draft stage each chapter is at.

I begin a section with Draft 0 – full-throttle, uninhibited, almost stream-of-consciousness writing.  I can finish the zero-draft of a chapter in a couple of hours.  Now, it’s terrible – unbelievably terrible – but it gives me a starting point to work with, and manages to avoid provoking the slog.  I’ll talk more about zero-drafting, later.  When I start Draft 1, it’s back to my normal writing habits.

My goal is to get four pages done in a day, although I usually only end up with two.  Sometimes I’ll accomplish nothing more than agonizing over a single paragraph for hours on end and then hate myself for the rest of the day.  (>^-‘)>  This is primarily because I’m not doing a good job of staying within the current phase.

Some advice which I should learn to take, myself – it’s O.K. to walk away for a while if you’re getting frustrated.  It’s tempting to sit tight and trudge through the rough spots, but if your brain is feeling burnt out, it probably won’t be producing that great of stuff, and associating those negative sensations with writing won’t make you eager to keep coming back to it.  A rested mind is much better equipped to work out whatever issue you’re having.

Nothing says you have to write in sequence, but I do so for the most part, as it helps me develop and keep in mind the story’s progression from the potential reader’s perspective.  Some folks, on the other hand, might write any given scene as it comes to them, regardless of its place in the narrative, so they can get it down while the idea’s fresh, or use it as a reference point to work toward.

 

Phase Three: Polishing

Finally, we have the editing phase.  It’s all the fixing, updating, changing, and rearranging needed to get that draft to a presentable state.  All of my resources come into play, here.

There are a few different types of edits.  Editing for content, editing for phrasing, and copyediting (grammar/spelling/punctuation).  For me, copyediting is the easiest, as it’s the most straightforward; there are rules and standards of language to govern it.  Phrasing is more involved and individual, amounting to rewording things so that they sound good and make sense.  Content editing is the most in-depth and demanding, as it’s adding, cutting, or shuffling around segments or entire scenes and story elements.  You can do all your editing at once, but I find that it’s more effective to work out the content changes first, then have a look at the phrasing, and lastly do a pass to check for grammatical issues.

If you’re lucky enough to have someone willing to critique your work, this is where you would consider their suggestions, but your own self-criticism and desire for improvement will usually be the biggest driving factor.  Between drafts, I’ll write notes to myself as to what I want to change, and during them, I’ll bury my head in the dictionary to find better ways to say things.  If you’re as meticulous as I am, this is where it’s almost impossible not to feel the pull of the slog.  But editing is what gets your story to a state that you can be proud of, so the need for it is as unavoidable as that stupid blue shell.

 

These three phases are cyclical; once complete the process begins anew for the next chapter, section, rewrite, or what have you.  They can each be approached in any number of ways, but the one thing that should always be observed is their order – if you write before you plan, or edit before you write, you’re issuing an invitation to the slog.

 

The slog hates you

The slog is…the worst.

 

Some people have a muse.  Instead, I have this guy.  I have no doubt that many of you are also familiar with it.  The slog is basically an anti-muse.  Its goal is to erode your ideas, make you question your judgment, and slow down if not stall out your whole creative process.  It will rack you with indecision and make the simplest of tasks take ten times longer than they ought.  It survives on frustration and unproductivity.  It is sneaky.  Out of nowhere it will give you a headache so you’ll lose focus, or make you tired so you’ll take a break.  It will distract you with tangentially related activities to divert your time and attention away from writing itself.  It gobbles your confidence and barfs on your vision.  Your failure is its favorite.

Don’t feed the slog.

 

Bene scribete.

The Tools

In order to write you need something to write with, write?  Er–right?  You don’t have to use anything new or fancy; there’s nothing wrong with pen-and-paper, a typewriter, or Notepad.  Still, if you have access to the latest technological accessories, you may as well take advantage of them!  Here are some of the handy utilities that I use:

 

Evernote

Elephantastic?

Evernote is a great online note-taking service (especially now that they have their cross-platform line-break formatting fixed!).  The basic service is free, providing you with a rich-text editor to create notes and organize them by tags or ‘notebook’ folders.  You can use it straight from a web browser, or (better yet) download the dedicated application for your computer, phone, and/or tablet, and have access to your updated notes wherever you can get to the internet (and still be able to view what’s on the device where you can’t).  When an idea pops into my head while I’m away from the computer, I’ll take a note on my iPhod/iPad, then pull it up later on the PC when writing.  Simple and convenient.  It also has a variety of plugins to other services, if you’re feeling adventurous.

 

Dropbox is for winners

It’s like a box that you drop things in.  Except completely different.

There are a lot of “cloud-storage” solutions out there these days, but I find Dropbox to be the most streamlined.  It’s more of a synchronizing service than an online storage receptacle, which is what makes it so great.  You install it on your computer, and it creates a ‘Dropbox’ folder in your user profile (or you can put it anywhere else you want).  Then, you just put your writing folder inside that, and use it like normal.  Install it on any other computers you normally use, and it will mirror that folder among them – make a change to your draft on one, and it will be made on the rest.  Download the phone/tablet application to view your files on-the-go, or access your files from the Dropbox website on computers you don’t typically use.  You can even view older versions of the files there that you’ve overwritten.  It’s portability, backup, and version-tracking all in one!  Like Evernote, the basic service is free, starting you off with 2GB of wiggle-room – more than enough for bookwork.  Great stuff.  (Psst – though if you sign up with that link you’ll score us both an extra 1/2 GB of space!)

 

Dictionary!

Words are neat

Pretty self-explanatory.  A dictionary is always good to have on hand, to check nuance or find a synonym.  Dictionary.com has some nice phone/tablet applications as well, which are as free as the website.

 

So micro

It’s not a real office

As far as the actual writing goes, I use Microsoft Office (i.e., Word 2010).  It’s sort of not free.  It is, however, the de facto standard, and most people seem to have access to it for one reason or another.  If you don’t, Open Office is a pretty popular and plenty functional no-cost alternative, Pages (for you Mac users) is only $20, or if you want to keep things simple, you could always consolidate and just use Evernote for everything!  Anyway, say what you will about Microsoft on the whole, but I find Office to be a pretty dang competent product.  Like many people, I’ve used it for decades in both a personal and professional capacity, and there’s something to be said about its ubiquity and ease-of-use coupled with the granular control it gives you over your documents.

 

So, that’s the general software that gets me through the day!  Maybe you’ve found some other helpful programs?

Next time, we’ll take a look at the day-to-day writing process.  Until then, bene scribete.