{"id":6834,"date":"2016-11-18T09:14:35","date_gmt":"2016-11-18T15:14:35","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.christophergronlund.com\/blog\/tjw\/?p=6834"},"modified":"2016-11-18T09:14:35","modified_gmt":"2016-11-18T15:14:35","slug":"a-year-without-lumberjacks","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/www.christophergronlund.com\/blog\/tjw\/2016\/11\/18\/a-year-without-lumberjacks\/","title":{"rendered":"A Year Without Lumberjacks"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"TrailYesterday, Not about Lumberjacks<\/em><\/a> turned one year old.<\/p>\n

It started with a story about a dog who eats everything in sight: “Gutterball.”<\/a> As I’ve mentioned elsewhere<\/a>, I ended up writing more new stories in the first year of the show than I planned. And the way those new stories developed has surprised me quite a bit.<\/p>\n

Once Upon a Time<\/h2>\n

There was a time when I worked in warehouses and factories and other jobs that allowed me to be in my head all day. Because of that, it was not uncommon to roll a story around in my head until it was almost fully realized up in my brainmeats.<\/p>\n

I’d rush home and often knock out a story in a sitting. I’d give it a touch-up the next day, have a few trusted readers offer feedback — make any changes based on that feedback — and call the stories complete.<\/p>\n

My process at the end is still largely unchanged — I polish the story once and hand it off to trusted readers — but other aspects of the process are much different.<\/p>\n

Chunky Writing<\/h2>\n

As a technical writer, I can’t afford to roll stories around in my head all day at work anymore. I have to dedicate my brain to what I’m paid to do. The days of fully-realized stories in my head are long gone.<\/p>\n

These days, I tend to break stories into chunks (using Scrivener<\/a>). Then I jump into those little sections and make them whole. They often link themselves together quite well, and — eventually — I have a whole story.<\/p>\n

I initially worried that the new(ish) process would result in stories that felt segmented, but what I’m writing feels more realized than older stories.<\/p>\n

Chunky works! (For me, anyway…)<\/p>\n

Different Endings<\/h2>\n

I suppose the biggest change to the way I write short fiction these days is the way endings come together. As I mentioned, I used to decide on an ending as I realized a story in my head when I worked menial jobs. Today, I have time to look at endings and think:<\/p>\n

Is this the best way to go with this?<\/p><\/blockquote>\n

Case in point: “The Other Side.”<\/a><\/p>\n

The story is about a recently divorced (and unemployed) guy who breaks into his childhood home to see if there’s still a portal to a magical realm in his old closet. My first thought was a rather typical ending: he’d go through the portal and rekindle an old potential romance…a happy-enough ending that would have been the<\/em> ending years ago.<\/p>\n

I knew that was quite typical, though…and let’s be real: stories about other realms are nice and all, but the reality<\/em> is we’d all probably end up dead in a world where monsters roam freely. And so I thought:<\/p>\n