I have, in the past, hated outlines.
They seemed like such an unnecessary part of story-writing – after all, if the story is going to flow, its going to flow. What do you mean only the first 20%, the middle 15% and the last 10% flow?
The latter is my usual experience with writing. There are significant stretches of story that aren’t the sequences that play out in glittering HD in your mind. They’re the parts that link things together, the parts that help explain why the selfish ass the reader is introduced to in chapter one is willing to die to save the city in chapter thirty.
If you just start writing and go, you’re going to hit these sections you didn’t work out in advance. And the story grinds along as you slowly work out how these sections work.
Recently, I have sufficiently little writing time that once I hit those parts its hard for me to continue with the story. In the past when I have hit these spots I have actually stopped and outlined at least the next few chapters to help sort out what happens between points B and D.
To avoid running into a motivational block by hitting an un-solved problem on the way on the story that has wandered into my head recently, I’m working on an outline before I start the story. Slow going so far – a few hundred words of outline here and there amidst other tasks. But it helps me identify plot holes and issues before they strike.
Including the one I’m mulling over, hence my writing this instead of the outline.
How do you recognize a man who you’ve never seen without fully shrouding robes and a veil?
Nojh says
I’m assuming when you say you recognize someone who is never seen without a fully shrouding robes and veil, you could mean one of two things: A) You recognize that it is the same person in in robes and a veil or B) You recognize that person when they are not in a robes and veil. There is a lot of crossover but I will mark what doesn’t.
1) Movement mannerisms. This isn’t very precise, thanks to the robes, but if your man tends to walk slow, or fast, or with a limp, or swinging his arms, you have something to remember.
2) Smell. Humans aren’t very good at smelling over long distances. But a place where someone has stood can be sampled, as well as things discarded from a person.
3) The robes and veil might have a certain style or marking to them that helps signify who they are. This is mostly only useful for A. But a torn edge of the veil, the length of the robes, or a particular patchwork.
4) Sound. The sound of the man’s footsteps. His voice would be particularly awesome for type b recognition.
5) You didn’t mention gloves. So hands might be a great way to recognize the person. Finger nails. Rings. A firm handshake.
6) If this is a particularly high tech world, or we’re working in a forensics type setting, everybody leaves behind traces of skin flakes, hair follicles, finger prints, etc. Alternately in a more fantastical setting, a person’s aura or astral impression.
Hmm. That’s all I got.
Glynn Stewart says
It is your type b: they met before when the man was in the formal wear of his order, who refuse to reveal their faces to people not of their order for various reasons.
They meet again later when he is in hiding and has given up the wear of his order and going unveiled.
It’s a fantasy setting, and the recognizer is actually a magic user, which actually allows aura or astral recognition which had not occurred to me – I was thinking movement and voice.
Thanks!