#96: Ground Rules for Writing Adaptations

This question came from the priority request queue for my Patreon patrons. Thanks for your support, letter writer!

Dear Story Nurse,

When doing a rewrite, adaptation, or fix fic, what are some things to keep in mind when deciding what to keep, what to change, and what to leave out?

I just started a fix fic project—I’m taking a story that’s fine in concept but weak in execution and treating it as a first draft that needs to be rewritten pretty substantially, but the characters and plot should stay more or less the same.

I’ve already planned a few changes:

  • Introducing a supporting character before she becomes immediately relevant to the plot rather than having her show up out of nowhere to drive the action; giving her more development outside her relationship with the leads
  • Taking a background character who piqued my interest but didn’t get much attention in the original and upgrading her to be a supporting character with her own story arc
  • Eliminating a character whose only purpose is providing exposition

I think I’m on the right track with specifics for this project, but what are some things to keep in mind when approaching this kind of writing as a whole?

—Mr. Fixit (he/him)

Today is the fifth Tuesday of the month, which means that my answer to this heartfelt letter is available exclusively to my Patreon patrons. If you’d like to see today’s post—and future fifth Tuesday posts—become a Story Hospital Patreon patron at any level, even just $1/month. If that’s not an option for you, enjoy reading through the archives and salivating with anticipation for next Tuesday’s column. I’ll be back before you know it.

Cheers,

Story Nurse

Got a writing question? Ask the Story Nurse!

#95: The False Competition Between Fanfic and Original Fiction

Dear Story Nurse,

I’ve been writing fanfic for as long as I can remember, since before I even knew fanfic existed. When I got online at age 11, I tumbled into that world and learned so much about writing. I’ve had at least something on the go all the time since then. I’ve now reached the point where I feel I need to be writing something of my own.

It’s not that I lack an understanding of how to transition from fanfic to original on the technical levels of building characters and worlds; it’s that I can’t seem to get the same level of enthusiasm for my original worlds as I do for other people’s. It doesn’t help that a lot of what I like doing as a fanfiction writer is playing with the fact of having a shared canon to do weird postmodern things; I’m obsessed with having characters meet alternatively written versions of themselves from variant incarnations of canon, I’ve written a story which allegorised the lackluster sequel interpretations of two video game characters to my own experience of depression, and so on. But what’s most painful is that it’s making me poor. Inspiration for fanfic comes to me effortlessly and with a big ‘let’s do it!’ feeling—original fic ideas never feel so exciting. It doesn’t help that as I’ve become a better writer the effort required to write fic has increased to the point where it is no longer sustainable for me to write fanfic—I have to write it, because the ideas kill me if I don’t, but then I’ve just written something that won’t get me any validation and certainly won’t improve my career prospects, and the guilt is almost as bad as the guilt of not having written the idea in the first place.

You’ve already given ideas to someone looking to graduate from fanfic to original fic, but please can you provide some advice for someone who needs to quit fanfiction to get money and validation, but can’t keep my heart from obsessing over new things I can do with video game characters?

—Naomi (she/her)

Dear Naomi,

The word “guilt” really jumps out at me from your letter. You’ve gotten yourself into a bind because you’re perceiving your energy as a scarce resource that’s depleted by writing, so no matter where you put that resource, you feel like you’re spending it unwisely. But what’s actually depleting you isn’t the act of writing; it’s the shame you feel about how and what you’re writing. I can’t give you advice on how to quit writing fanfic, because I’m skeptical of your assertion that you need to. What I can advise you on is how to stop pouring your energy into the guilt-pit so you have enough for both fanfic and original fiction, with some to spare.

Continue reading

#94: Unfinished Story Choice Paralysis

Hello! I mostly write realistic/literary type fiction, with some excursions into horror. I have five or six unfinished projects languishing in Google Docs right now, ranging from short stories to novels.

My problem is that every time I sit down to write, I feel paralyzed by all of these options. I can’t decide which project I want to work on. Instead I get distracted by thinking about my aspirations for each story (submit to journals, self publish, whatever) and/or I just sit there with a general sense of panic that I will never get any of this done. Each of my stories has its own mood, so I’ve tried to pick one based on the mood I’m in, but lately my only consistent mood has been “Dammit I need to write something!”

I’d love to hear your thoughts on how to pick one story to focus on when there are so many begging for attention. Thanks for taking the time to read this!

—Emma (they/them)

Dear Emma,

What you have is something called choice paralysis, a well-known psychological phenomenon. It happens a lot to people in grocery stores: faced with seven thousand varieties of ketchup or toilet paper, we feel totally overwhelmed. We know we’re supposed to weigh all the alternatives and pick the one that best meets our needs, but sometimes it’s just too much, and we go with a familiar brand because it’s familiar, choose at random, or flee the store.

Continue reading

#93: Writing Scenes of Boredom Without Being Boring

Dear Story Nurse,

Advice I have heard: “Skip writing the boring part.”

Scene I’m trying to write: the boring part, for both characters and author—in which much essential information is conveyed that I’m not sure how to show any other way. (In fact the very boring-ness of the scene to the PoV character is one of those essential points!)

Predictable problem: stalled writing.

Glib solution: skip writing the boring part. Come back and fill it in later, if the important bits really can’t be conveyed any other way.

Next problem: I write linearly. My brain stalls ridiculously if I try to write more than a vague outline of anything that’s further ahead than the next scene the reader ought to encounter… and the next scene the reader ought to encounter is the boring part.

Actual solution: ???

Thanks 🙂

—Bored Butterfly (they/them)

Dear Bored Butterfly,

One-size-fits-all writing advice never really does, and this is a classic example. It’s also an example of how generally good advice can become much less good when squeezed into a tweetable sentence or catchy phrase. Skipping the boring parts doesn’t mean you should leave out the information you intended to convey. It means you should look for ways to convey that information that excite and engage you, because that will excite and engage the reader.

Continue reading

#92: How to End a Story

This question came from the priority request queue for my Patreon patrons. Thanks for your support, letter writer!

Dear Story Nurse,

I’ve been working on a lot of short stories lately and I’ve had the same problem with each of them. I can’t end the dang things! I write beginnings and middles I like, but when I get to the end, the writing becomes more forced as I wrap things up. I have a hard time writing a sentence that signals to the reader “this is the end” but feels natural and isn’t obvious that’s what the story is doing. How can I make my endings read more smoothly?

Yours,

Never Ending (she/her)

Dear Never Ending,

Your deceptively simple question requires a slightly complicated answer. In order to understand how to end stories, we have to get into what an ending is and what it’s for, and what makes it different from a story just stopping.

Continue reading