Write Between the Lines
Written on April 5, 2010 by theboneshavespoken
Category: Advice, Solving a Problem
…Huh? You’re probably wondering why I butchered the popular idiom, “read between the lines.” I don’t normally butcher idioms, or anything else for that matter, but that cliché idiom just begs to be butchered, especially for the purposes of this article. I’m going to be talking about outlining – the ways outlining can be used, the reasons to use it, its qualities, its flaws, and its traps.
Writing Between The Lines
You probably hate that word, “outlining.” Especially if your teacher just told you to outline twenty pages from your history textbook (don’t worry, at least five of those pages will probably be sources – wink). Well, I like the word; it’s euphonic. (If you want a truly cacophonic word, try “drill;” nothing makes me wince like being reminded of the dentist.) Anyway, getting back on track, not only do I like the word “outlining” for the way it sounds, I like it for what it is, too. It’s useful for a couple of different things – like note-taking for school, or for forming the plot of a story.
Personally, I find outlining to be the best form of note-taking there is. (This must be said: Cornell notes, you suck. I’m sorry, but you do. You’re a waste of paper.) Especially, especially, especially if you’re outlining while you’re reading. (I don’t know about you guys, but I can’t flat-out read a history book to save my life. I’ll fall asleep within minutes, no matter how interesting the material is or isn’t. So writing while I read really helps me focus on what’s important – while actually getting through the reading.)
In addition, outlining makes your notes organized in a way that just taking straight bullet points never will. “Pilgrims sail to America…Colonies form…Wait, how did I get all the way to the American Revolution?” With outlining, everything is under headings, and each heading tells you exactly what you’re looking at (this satisfies the first rule of teaching: “tell them what you’re going to tell them”). That way, you don’t have to squint at your notes, wondering where the breaks are and why everything seems like one huge, jumbled pile of facts.
Here’s how you outline for notes: You take the biggest headings and write them all down in Roman numeral listing. Then you take the subheadings and put them down as capital letters, indented beneath the Roman numeral. (All this is really easy if you just press the little outline button on your Word document, by the way.) When you’re writing this, you should copy the headings exactly. The actual facts, though, you should paraphrase, or write in your own words. Writing the headings exactly will tell you exactly what you’re looking at in each section, while writing the facts in your own words will help you absorb and understand the information more; a good test of whether or not you understand the information is if you can write it in a different way, but still keep the same meaning.
(I was going to type out an example for you, good readers, but this text box is a sadistic internet fiend with homocidal tendencies toward outlines. Maybe it should read this article, hmm?)
Now, as much as I love outlining for note-taking, it’s a bane in story-planning for me. Outlining a story is a great idea – I firmly believe that it works for many people. I’m not one of them. There was once a time when outlining was my best friend in story-writing, too…until I discovered the Outline Trap.
Outlining for a story just doesn’t work for me. If you too have a perfectionist attitude toward outlines, then stick to using them in notes. You see, I see writing a rough draft very simply: it’s going to suck. It’s allowed to suck. It’s expected to suck, if even just a little. But when I think about outlining, my view of rough drafting shifts. I think, “Well, if it’s planned, then it should be very, very good!” – and suddenly, the outline has to be perfect, so to make the rough draft better. A full, completed outline, even with quotes I’d like characters to use in certain scenes, and the descriptions of movements, scenery, etc. If I start an outline, everything has to be planned.
And you know what? I never start writing. Because I’m so obsessed with the outline, with trying to make sure the whole story’s perfect – before I ever write so much as “Chapter One”.
Does this mean I have to jump blindly into the story? Sometimes. I started writing an outline for my current project a couple months ago – completely abandoned it after planning the first three chapters. I’m currently on chapter six with over eight thousand words. (Not a lot, but the point is that I considerably surpassed writing “Chapter One”.)
Do my first three chapters follow the outline? I don’t know, and I don’t really care. Am I blind in knowing where I want my story to go simply because I haven’t outlined it? No. I know where I want my characters to be, and roughly when I want them to be there, and mostly what I want them to be doing. As for the rest, I’ll figure it out as I go along. And I’m discovering that there’s a certain excitement to not knowing every last detail that’ll happen.
There are some drawbacks to not outlining your story, though. It’s easy to fall into an Outline Trap like I so often do, but it’s easier to forget that you went a different direction with your story. You might have had an excellent idea about where the plot should go, and decided to turn down Loony Lane while writing chapter six – when you were thinking more along Rocket Road when you wrote chapter five. Now you’ve got two storylines that don’t match up, because you forgot to change chapter five so that it matches chapter six.
It’s really all about you in the end. If you’re a clutterbrain, outlining is perfect for you. If you’re pretty good at keeping your thoughts organized, but you obsess over everything you start to plan (like me), then you should probably just start writing. Outlining is a valuable tool…if it works for you. If it doesn’t, don’t use it. You need to use whatever means necessary to make your thoughts, your facts, your story, clear before your eyes. (If that means using Cornell notes, well, I think you’re nuts, but to each his own.)
