The Writing process

Jack Godwynn - Seth Atkinson

The ins and outs of the back and forths

Seth and I decided to write a blog about how we cooperatively write together. With that in mind, we decided to write it the way we used to write, with a back and forth conversation showing our own different perspectives on the process. So, what we’ve ended up with is a blog in the style of the writing process about the writing process for people interested in the writing process.

Jack

I’ve known Seth most of my life and have respected him for almost as long. We met at school where I was pressurising the laboratory-rat’s drinking water. I’m not sure what it was about this that made him look at me and think, ‘yeah, that’s a guy I should get to know’ but we became firm friends.

Like a lot of future authors, the cancer of creativity had already began to devour our mind, destroying any hope for a future that wouldn’t include slowly starving to death in relative obscurity.

We used to escape from school, using increasingly elaborate schemes to get away from class, and then walk to the local library to read books. Our teachers probably enjoyed our absence from class, not that I was a particularly disruptive influence, I was more one of those people that just didn’t want to be there and made it absolutely, completely and painfully clear. I imagine Seth was pretty much the same because we were generally looked upon by the academic staff with the same disgust as any Tweet by J.K. Rowling.

What always struck me about Seth was his complete inability to fit in. He was an outsider to the human race, he was a square peg in a round hole, a key in the wrong kind of lock or a bicycled parked in a water-fountain. There was just something perfectly imperfect about the way he was that made him refreshingly normal from a common-sense perspective.

Also, nobody else liked us, so we were more or less stuck with each other.

Seth

The pressurised water bottle was hilarious! I remember it well. The rat feeding bottles had a nozzle with a metal ball in the end which the rats would touch with their tongue to move it just enough to let some water out, but once pressurised, the ball became the only thing stopping the water from spraying out onto anything unlucky enough to touch it. I remember the look on the rat’s face after it got drenched. It just stood there, breathing heavily, and looking at us both with eyes that said, “You bastards!” It’s the sort of thing that friendships are built on, though not necessarily with the rat. I don’t think it liked either of us very much after that.

We both shared a lot of similar interests in science fiction, stories in general, art etc. and discussed them often and with increasing levels of sophistication, when we weren’t busy playing the hit man game. That was presumably Jack’s invention—one gives a list of items, and what a manner of death (accident, suicide etc.), and the other finds a way to kill a man using only those items to look to the police like it was the guy’s own fault. Some of them were very creative, and surprisingly not a single one ever got into anything we’ve written.

The other thing I found striking about Jack was how completely different we were in exactly the same way, an idea that makes all the more sense for knowing it makes none.

Jack

I agree. One night we were chatting late over a box of Irish beer and I noticed the very same thing. I was eating instant noodles, a basic English pot of dirty chemicals which was just barely food but did an adequate job of soaking up the alcohol. Seth was eating a box of Japanese noodles, so spicy that a dragon would have burst into flames if it sniffed at it. Essentially, we were doing the same thing but not quite the same way. Many times we’d have long discussions before realising we were essentially saying the same thing with very slightly different words.

He was obsessed with Japan and moved away to live there while I took up touring and ended up in Cambodia, the same but different; quite different as things turned out. We also ended up having a child within months of one another, even without planning it, even without planning to have any children at all in my case, and married women with the same name and almost identical jobs.

If we were any more oddly alike, people would think we were separated at birth.

But for all our similarities, we’re actually very different. What we both have is a strong connection at the core morality. I’m very good at the sweeping generalities while he does the specifics. It’s what makes me a good creative author and him a good editor. But, where it matters is that we’re both motivated to tell the best story we can and are focussed on producing the very best work that we are humanly able.

Seth and I have strong mutual respect. He knows he can tell me the blunt, honest truth and that I won’t be offended by hearing it, I’ll consider everything and make changes where I need to make them. Likewise, he treats my suggestions equally. It makes the editing process extremely fast because we’ve put in the time to develop trust for one another’s work.

Seth

Something that always impressed me about Jack is the speed with which he can formulate a complex but coherent plot, and get first drafts written. One morning, I brought him a conceptual idea that I thought it might be fun to incorporate into a blip or something, and after some back and forth formulating the specifics, he gets back to me next morning with the first 30 odd pages of a first draft. It was rough round the edges, as first drafts are wont to be, but it was very fleshed out. A couple of weeks later, it was up to 350 pages, without any obvious loose threads or structural problems. He seems very proficient at just powering through that first draft, where I prefer to have the entire structure fixed before I put a single word to paper, which is probably why I stick to shorter stories…

One of the big differences in our approaches to writing is that Jack is a visual writer. He sees events play out as if on a cinema screen, and then writes down what he sees. It’s perfect for the broad strokes, but at the expense of nuance at times. My approach is to focus less on what I can see, and more on how it needs to resonate, so rather than describing a scene in detail, I make word choices that evoke the feeling of the image. It’s fiddly and takes a long time to get right, but I find it’s effective in balancing things out.

We’re also a little too good at imitating each other’s writing styles, and we quickly lose track of who wrote what.

Jack

Our writing styles have certainly melted together. In Edge, Seth added a story. Where I usually write it, and he polishes it, we reversed this one completely. Our beta testers couldn’t find the difference, even when warned that it was there.

Even now, we’ll look back over something and it will be a struggle to work out who did what. Of course, from the point of view of the audience, this is the absolutely correct thing to find. Nobody wants to read something and find jarring shifts in narrative style.

I think Seth is talking about Night Shift, an up and coming horror we put together. Yes, I did write a 140k word novel in a few weeks but it didn’t just come out of nowhere. I had worked out the plot and characters quite carefully before starting. I’m not the sort of author who just sees what happens, I do have a plan, but as we write more, I tend to rely on the plan less, because I’ve developed the skills to be able to do it.

Some books write themselves and everything flows but it’s worth mentioning we’ve also got half a dozen books in pieces on my hard-drive that we never got the motivation to get further along with. For every success there’s a failure, especially when you’re learning the craft.

Seth works fast but tends to be busier than me in his everyday life, which is frustrating. I’m an English teacher at the moment and have quite a lot of free time, but his professional hours demand more of him. We go as fast as we can and it doesn’t always feel fast enough.

Seth

I would love to work faster, but there are a lot of obstacles in the way of that happening. The first is that I do this for a living, so taking a break from something to do exactly the same thing doesn’t help much in terms of replenishing mental energies. The second is that in my day job as chief editor, I’m directly responsible for every word that gets published, regardless of whether it was written by me or any of my co-workers. Subsequently I take proofreading tasks very seriously. A blip or other short story I can comb through in about an hour, picking up and fixing most minor grammatical ticks (especially breaking up overly long sentences, and fixing punctuation), and then it’s good to go. A 140k word novel is a whole different animal. Typically it will take three passes—one is a read through to get the gist of the entire story, second is an overhaul where dialogue especially is streamlined, redundancies ironed out, and occasionally small sections added for flow. We make it a rule that unless I’ve added something sizeable, I don’t tell Jack any of the changes I’ve made, and most of the time he doesn’t notice anything is different. There’s a tendency I’ve found that when you write a first draft, you write what’s in your head, but it doesn’t always come across that way to somebody’s whose head it isn’t already in. A lot of the fixes focus on bridging that divide, and go under the radar because as it’s already in his head, nothing appears to have changed. The third pass is a redundant safety check, to make sure I haven’t introduced new grammaticals during the second pass. I always have… It’s very time consuming, and takes a lot of concentration, but I think the results speak for themselves. If you’re writing anything of publishable value, you absolutely need somebody that knows what they’re doing to proofread your work, because there will always be something you’ve missed, or something you could have done better.

There have been a number of instances where I come up with an off the wall idea, normally when waking up from a very strange dream, and I work it into a vague story outline in my head. I then explain it to Jack and a few hours later, he comes back with a short story that perfectly encapsulates exactly what I had in mind. Those are a dream to proofread because I’m already invested in making it a decent story. It almost feels like I wrote the whole thing myself.

Any time I actually try to write the story myself though, my brain goes into full defensive-mode and blocks me at every turn, like somebody is screaming into my ear while punching me in the neck. My craft is in consolidating, structuring and communicating ideas efficiently though language. Storytelling is about drawing your audience into an experience and guiding them through an emotional journey. Both have rules and structures, but I find storytelling to be so untethered and ethereal that it triggers some kind of allergic panic.

Ironically, this is exactly the sort of quality you need in a proof reader. I have no coherent argument to back this up.

Jack

I want to add to this that it’s not just an acceptance that he doesn’t bother to tell me about changes. This is something we worked hard on for a very long time and ended in a mutual agreement. In the early days, when we were producing the first drafts of ‘The Edge’, we would have a back and forth. I would write, he would re-write and this would bounce from me to him and back again over the course of many weeks.

Eventually, we came to realise that we were both on the same team and were both trying to do the same thing. We developed a hard-earned mutual respect that means we no long bother questioning the other’s work to such a degree. If Seth changes large sections then he will flag it and we’ll chat it out together but generally I know that if I give him something, it’s coming back better.

That’s why our universe is called ‘Edgeverse’, it might not have been our first book but it was the first where we established out professional standard. It set the bar for us.

We did recently have an issue of this sort. In the short-story ‘April, Fool’, Seth found a long section that he wanted to remove. It was a dialogue between two side-characters and did nothing to move the tale along. To him, the choice was one of narrative quality and I will admit that he was perfectly correct, but my argument against was that the section was funny.

Rob and Dave stories aren’t meant to be the highest quality and the audience reading them isn’t looking to be presented with high-brow literary fiction, they’re looking for a few cheap laughs aimed at their inner-idiot, a story about idiots, and written by an even bigger idiot.

I think, if it had been a novel, we might have had a longer discussion but as a short story, and with a tight deadline, he let it pass.

It’s rare we have different thoughts about a story.

Seth mentioned when he’s come up with an outline or idea on various occasions. Several times he’s presented me a concept and I’ve returned a fleshed-out story set around it, which has been exactly what he imagined. The reason that’s so easy to do is that we are very alike at our core with very similar values, morality and beliefs. We’ve also known each other for many decades and have developed along similar paths.

Another reason that finishing a story for Seth is easy is because of the way he works. Although he prefers not to write the initial draft himself, he does have a very solid understanding of what is required and knows exactly how to communicate his concepts. When I get an idea from him, it’s usually a complete scaffold that only needs a little time to turn into a working story. He has an unconscious understanding of storytelling and the communication about it between us is swift and direct.

Again, this takes time to develop and we’ve both put that time in. We’re seeing the benefit from it now but it isn’t a natural talent, it’s something we earned.

Seth does write stories, not that you can usually tell because they’re embedded in our works and it’s almost impossible for us to remember who did what bit so I have serious doubts that the audience will be able to spot it.

I do most of the heavy lifting in terms of first drafts. There are several reasons for that, the first is that I’m the writer! Being an author is my dream and my aspiration and it simply isn’t that way for Seth. He’s a professional in a quite different way and he’s happy with that. Unlike Seth, I also have more free time. He simply wouldn’t get the opportunity to create the drafts where I do, so it makes sense for me to do the time-consuming work. Finally, and most obviously, I’m better at it. My mind works that way, mostly because of all the practice I’ve had, where his speciality is in turning what I put out into something ready for the audience. It just comes down to the fact that these are the roles the universe chose for us, and that we’ve chosen to accept for ourselves.

But it hasn’t come easily. One of the hardest things I’ve had to deal with is letting anyone read my work. My early stories were garbage, I’m sure Seth would be a little more gentle but the fact is that they weren’t of readable quality.

The only reason I got this far is by Seth being patient and by me taking his advice seriously.

One other thing I want to mention is that we aren’t the only parts of the process. For all aspiring authors out there, I want to add that we also have John, a professional proof-reader who goes over the whole things for us one last time.

Our process is that I write the first draft. At the end of each chapter, I re-read and re-write it and then pass it along. Seth feeds back and I add notes about which way the story is drifting, so I can make sure I stay on the right path. At the end of the initial writing, I usually take a week off. I ignore the whole thing and get some distance from it.

After a spell, I go back and re-edit the whole story myself and then pass on the final draft to Seth who begins the editing process. It often takes longer than the writing process, sometimes many times longer. Finally, he’ll call it finished and pass it back. I’ll check over and make sure there’s no notes I need to address. Finally it goes off to John who takes another pass and makes sure we’ve not missed any grammatical errors.

Once it comes back from him, Seth gives it yet another check to confirm ever single addition and change.

This is all a very human process and we all make mistakes along the way. Even a professional editor knows the value of getting someone else to check their work, and there’s probably no higher mark of a professional than to understand their human failings.

Despite all this, I enjoy the whole process. I love writing, I love working with Seth and there’s no better feeling than wrapping a book and knowing we’ve got a novel that is absolutely the best story we can make it.

Seth

April, Fool was one of the more recent stories we worked on, and there were definitely jokes in there that neither of us remember writing. It’s often like there’s a third person offering their expertise and helping us out when we’re not looking.

I would tend to agree that the reason we’ve worked so well together is because any time Jack has shown me his work, he expects me to be honest in my appraisal, both for better and for worse. Sometimes I’ve had to be brutal—there have been stories where I read a few chapters and I’ve had to say it’s just not working. In those situations he hasn’t taken it personally, or tried to convince me I must have missed something—he takes the criticism for what it is and thanks me. Other times, there really hasn’t been anything wrong, so I take to a deeper level of nitpicking to give him something to reflect on.

I’ve worked in music and performance arts, and I’ve always found that quality feedback is like discovering fresh dew in a desert—it’s rare, but infinitely valuable. When an artist shows somebody their work, some part of them might be looking for acknowledgement that they’ve achieved something, but a bigger and more important part is that they’re asking, “How can this be improved?” If you’re not trying to identify the flaws in your own work as a road to doing better, then you’re stagnating. Real artists always welcome the negative feedback, and often much more than the positive, which is why I never hold back.

Over the past couple of decades we’ve produced a pretty solid body of work—most of it was Jack with a bit of assistance from me, less was more-or-less a full collaborative melding of the creative minds. I’m very proud of what we’ve produced, and nothing would make me happier than to hear that people are reading it and enjoying it. More even than that, I hope we prove worthy of their criticism.

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