My son is scowling at a piece of paper. "What's that" I ask.

"A semantic map." "A what?"

"I have to write a story and I'm supposed to map out everything that's going to happen so that my teacher can mark it. She says it'll stop me writing the wrong things."

"Why not draw the map afterwards?"

"But how will I know what to write?"

"Have you ever been on the beach and discovered a cave?" "Yes." "Did you go in?"

"Of course." "Well, writing a story can be like creeping into a forbidden house, or lowering a gigantic hook into a haunted lake."

He likes this idea. "But how do I begin?" "Start with something ordinary and then have something mysterious happen."

He goes away for a while, full of enthusiasm, but then he comes back disheartened, and says, "I'm stuck!"

"What's your story about?" "It's about a boy who has to write a story." "Is he in trouble?" "No." "Well, stories are about people who get into trouble."

He rushes off for a whole hour and comes back looking pleased. "He's in such a mess. Now what?" "Either rescue him or make him suffer more."

"But how can I end my story?" "Feed things back in that happened earlier. Where did your story begin?" "At school."

"Then why not work the school into the end of the story? Stuff you've mentioned earlier should be reincorporated." "Reincorporated?" "Fed back in. Oroborous." "What's oroborous?"

"A snake eating its tail."

-- Keith Johnstone, Storytelling for Impro

How do you drink?

Must everything be placed out on the bar for you; in neat little shot glasses with arrows and signs telling you what to drink first and when? Is it "Liquor before beer, in the clear' Beer before liquor, never sicker?" Are there rules, guidelines and a solid method of drinking in it that avoids a killer hangover?

Or do you simply drink as you feel, let shit fly and hope you've got a bucket in the morning?

How do you drink? Have you been drinking for years, knowing what your tolerance level is and when to quit? Understanding that you can hit a certain point, have one more and walk away? Or do you dive right in, mix shit up and let God and your liver sort it out?

How do you tell a story?

When you sit at the blank page, the muse laid out before you, can you improvise a solid tale of romance, adventure, drama and woe? Can you take a story by its tail, swing it around the room like a gunslinger's lasso and weave it between its own loops, around your back and back where it began without instruction or prayer? Or do you need to know where your first swing is going to begin, the arc and motion it's going to take and how its going to follow through to its inevitable conclusion?

I've often heard writers more experienced than I say that every writer needs to know where the story begins and where the story will end. You can't take the journey without knowing the destination. The road stops along the way, the charming little moments, dialogue and beats can be filled in between long periods of traveling.

Then there are writers who need every foot of the journey detailed, accounted for and lettered out before taking that first step out the door. The entire tale is outlined, triple checked, noted and explained before the first line of dialogue is crafted.

How do you plot?

When the muse hits and an idea gets wrestled down from Ideaspace and given shape in the clay of your frontal lobe, is it just that -- an idea? Is all you need a 200 word overview of what your story is going to be, a sense of something happening to Character A to fuck up Situation B that leads him into Encounters C through F, eventually resulting in Happy Ending D? Or do you need it spelled out for you with sub-situations B1 through B14 all the way through Sub-Encounter Sections F6b and F6c on the schematic outline of your story? How much of the plot do you need mapped out before you tell your story?

Have you ever just written?

Simply set yourself down to a blank page with a basic idea and just... started to type?

What happened? Did the world end? Were you able to go back and rewrite, redraft, rethink and replot?

Does every story need a map?

I tried a little experiment two years ago. I opened a sketchbook and drew a panel. A single panel. The next day, I drew another based on the panel I had drawn the day before. And then another. And another. Until I unfolded an entire story before me over a series of ninety panels, leading to a final, inevitable conclusion.

Now, I won't lie - many folks think that the end result was flawed. The story was not as good as it could have been and could have used two, maybe three rewrites. Perhaps.

But there's no denying that there was a story there. A malleable and viable plot shaped without a script, without a structure that is available, in the world and open to the possibility of that rewrite.

No map, no net.

How do you rewrite?

Have you ever written a story - any story, whether it be novel, screenplay, comic or dirty poem - and went back weeks later to tweak, realizing the endless opportunities available to reincorporate earlier ideas into the ending? A line of repeated dialogue that hammers a point home. An incident brought back that helps establish a stronger story.

Now those "call backs", as they're referred to in the improv world, were not in your original schematics, were they? They weren't part of the map.

Let's be honest, though. What's the best way to tell a story?

Structure. Outline. Beginning, Middle and End. Which editor or writing coach is going to want to see a pitch that says, "I'll start here and see where I end up"? Bullshit, right? The story is the map, the map the story. I'm not an idiot and I know that there's a rhyme and reason to writing a good plot and effective story.

But let's pretend for a moment that we're explorers, you and I.

One of the most fascinating innovations to come out of alternative comics in the last few years is the advent of the 24-Hour comic. The idea, spawned from a dare by cartoonist and educator Scott McCloud has taken in root in the industry and even expanded to the point that there is a day appointed simply for making a 24 Hour Comic.

From McCloud's website:

"To create a complete 24 page comic book in 24 continuous hours. That means everything: Story, finished art, lettering, colors (if you want 'em), paste-up, everything! Once pen hits paper, the clock starts ticking. 24 hours later, the pen lifts off the paper, never to descend again. Even proofreading has to occur in the 24-hour period. No sketches, designs, plot summaries or any other kind of direct preparation can precede the 24-hour period. Indirect preparation such as assembling tools, reference materials, food, music etc. is fine...The 24 hours are continuous. You can take a nap if you like but the clock will continue to tick! If you get to 24 hours and you're not done, either end it there ("the Gaiman Variation") or keep going until you're done... As far as planning goes, you can think about it beforehand, but I recommend improvisation as the most satisfying route. Perhaps have some randomizer at startup (like a Pictionary or Tarot Card Deck or a child's picture book of household objects) to actually prevent you from knowing what the story will be about beforehand. The less you plan, the less likely you are to get frustrated."

An entire comic book story in 24 hours. An entire written and drawn story within the space of a day. No time to outline, analyze, set a map for one's self - just get in there and fucking create.

But, you'll bitch to me, that's cartooning! And fucking ALTERNATIVE cartooning, to boot! I can draw a 24-page comic about some sad boy shitting into his hat because a lonely girl would rather be with someone else. Writing - REAL WRITING - can't be improvised like that, written one page after another, can it?

Maybe it can. Heard of NaNoWriMo, or National Novel Writing Month?

From the website:

"National Novel Writing Month is a fun, seat-of-your-pants approach to novel writing. Participants begin writing November 1. The goal is to write a 175-page (50,000-word) novel by midnight, November 30. Valuing enthusiasm and perseverance over talent and craft, NaNoWriMo is a novel-writing program for everyone who has thought fleetingly about writing a novel but has been scared away by the time and effort involved. Because of the limited writing window, the ONLY thing that matters in NaNoWriMo is output. It's all about quantity, not quality. The kamikaze approach forces you to lower your expectations, take risks, and write on the fly. Make no mistake: You will be writing a lot of crap. And that's a good thing. By forcing yourself to write so intensely, you are giving yourself permission to make mistakes. To forgo the endless tweaking and editing and just create. To build without tearing down. As you spend November writing, you can draw comfort from the fact that, all around the world, other National Novel Writing Month participants are going through the same joys and sorrows of producing the Great Frantic Novel. Wrimos meet throughout the month to offer encouragement, commiseration, and -- when the thing is done -- the kind of raucous celebrations that tend to frighten animals and small children. In 2004, we had over 42,000 participants. Nearly 6000 of them crossed the 50k finish line by the midnight deadline, entering into the annals of NaNoWriMo superstardom forever. They started the month as auto mechanics, out-of-work actors, and middle school English teachers. They walked away novelists. So, to recap: What: Writing one 50,000-word novel from scratch in a month's time. Who: You! We can't do this unless we have some other people trying it as well. Let's write laughably awful yet lengthy prose together. Why: The reasons are endless! To actively participate in one of our era's most enchanting art forms! To write without having to obsess over quality. To be able to make obscure references to passages from your novel at parties. To be able to mock real novelists who dawdle on and on, taking far longer than 30 days to produce their work."

Basically, to fucking write for writing's sake. Think it can't be done? My friend Ben did it:

And I know plenty of others who've done it, too. No map, no net.

Look, I know that for the most part when you're writing a story you need to know where you're going. I know that Dorothy is going to begin in Munchkinland, follow the yellow brick road, kill the witch and end up back in Kansas. When I pitch a project to Marvel Comics I'm going to tell them the story - the whole fucking story - and leave nothing out along the way.

But late at night, sitting in the comfort of my home, I'm going to take out the novel I've been writing ten pages at a time. I'm going to go back and rewrite parts along the way, reincorporating things I missed the first time and generally see where the plot takes me. I have a vague idea of where the characters are going to end up and how we're going to end, but if an interesting fork in the road happens along the way who's to say I'm not going to take a detour and see where it goes?

I'm going to experiment. I'm going to improvise.

Improvisation is something you rarely see in storytelling. No one starts writing a tale, reaches out for an idea and redirects it. But go check out Second City or Theatresports or Chicago City Limits one night. Find a local improv comedy troupe that performs long form comedy - the Harold, as named by improvisational guru Del Close - and study the way they tell a story.

They begin with a suggestion - it could be pie, it could be rocket science. And they begin to play, to toss ideas back and forth. They reach their hands into the ether of the air, wrestle down a character or two and begin to mold a story from fleeting, floating ideas. They establish a three-act structure and weave three short stories in and out of the acts, incorporating call backs and repeated phrases to build a larger, cohesive story that works it's way to a satisfying result.

They plot. They map. They heighten and expand. And in the end, they tell a story.

"I have to write a story", I told my friend, the comic book writer, "and I'm supposed to outline everything that's going to happen so that my editor can read it."

"Why not outline it afterwards?"

"But how will I know what to write?"

"Have you ever been on the beach and discovered a cave?" "Yes." "Did you go in?"

"Of course." "Well, writing a story can be like that. Walking into the unknown, or jumping from a plane into the great, blue sky."

"But how do I begin?"

"Start with something ...start with anything ordinary and then have something mysterious happen."

"How will I end my story?"

"Feed things back in that happened earlier. Work your beginning back into the end of the story. Reincorporate. Oroborous."

"What's oroborous?"

"A snake eating its tail."

-----------------------------

BIG POND is a collective column that begins with ideas and continues with opinions. Each column focuses in on my musings about writing for the comic book, film and television industry and then gives way to opinions on the week's topic by a diverse group of writers.

This week, we're joined in the pond by Lea Hernandez and Elizabeth Genco , amazing writers who explore new ideas in writing, plotting and storytelling every day. Here are their thoughts on this week's topic:

Lea:"The first stage of writing a graphic novel for me is subtractive; it's all in there, like David in the marble, and I have to take away everything that's not the story, chipping until I have a rough shape. What it looks like on paper is nothing at first: it's in my head,being rolled over and over as still photography from my mental movie set, or as scenes, the dailies. When I start to write it out, it's this big fat galloping thing, a galloping mess of what will happen from the beginning to the end, studded with quotes of dialogue and parentheses with notes about how I'll draw something later so I don't forget a good idea.

"The second stage, writing the fuill script, is sculptural. I take what I have and shape it. Sometimes I go back to stage one and gouge out great hunks of 'FUCK! That doesn't WORK!', others, I'm pushing in and pulling out. I'm not putting anything in, I'm not taking anything away, but the story's still changing shape. If you read over my shoulder at this point: you'd see a huge file, one of many saved variations, of a full script with all the mental mess of stage one lurking at the end of the document.

"The third stage is additive: I up the smartassery of dialogue. I take the subtext my subconscious sneaked in, those messages I whispered into my own ear, and bring it forward with the pictures. I revert to stage two, the push and pull, and tweak the script to make sure there are no plot holes. (I've learned to also make sure I'm getting things across clearly in art and dialogue.) I find those lines that bear repeating that will give that 'Oooh! OWNED!' moment in the climax. I make double damn sure I don't take my heroine's or hero's big moment away from them: they have to effect their own rescue. Just for myself, I make sure there's one sexy line, at least one sweet moment, at least two sex scenes.

"At this point, I've printed out the script, and it goes everywhere with me in a binder, because I am constantly living in the story at this point and want it around when I have to draw something. I carry the damn thing like I carried my two children before they were born.

"And I draw and draw and draw. For me, as a graphic novelist who writes and draws, the third stage is the longest part, physically. (The writing is the longest part, mentally. I first wrote down the pitch for what became Rumble Girls in 1993. I first had the idea in 1991.) I'm not a paper-wadder: if a page isn't going well, I set it aside. If I still think it stinks the next day, I start over. While comics have an unlimited budget in locations, casting, costuming and special effects, there is always one budget constraint: time. A deadline. A restriction imposed externally by an editor or publisher, or internally by a desire to just get the fucking thing out of your life, to get past the screaming ring of fire, the pull-focus of 'I can see the ending, but it's not getting any closer!' already.

"Then, one day, I'm done. The last file's just finished uploading to the FTP. The baby grew up and left home, someone bought the sculpture and hauled it away. My characters, their stories, fade like old Polaroids. They're like beloved friends who've moved away forever, they're not coming back, or will be gone so long they won't look the same the next time I see them. Ennui sets in, studded with bright flashes of panic, 'Did I remember to draw that? Did I forget that joke?' Scott McCloud calls this 'grinding': you're done, the book's gone, but you keep going over it, questioning, worrying.

"I go get another block of marble, another story I have to tell, from my mental storehouse, I've got a lot of 'em in there, and I start chipping again."

Elizabeth:"Ah, improv versus plotting, improv versus plotting... which is 'better'? Newsflash: that's not really the most useful question. The most useful question is, well, 'Which method is the most useful?'

"And the answer to that depends entirely on the writer.

"Back when I started writing, I had no idea what my 'plotting style' was -- whether improv or game plan would work better for me. So, naturally, I did the most logical thing: I discussed it at length with my writer friends. I pondered. I considered. I debated. I hashed and re-hashed. I spent a lot of time analyzing how other folks did their thing.

"You see where this is going, don'tcha?

"Eventually, I came to my senses and did the only thing that really could help me sort it out: I sat down over several nights and tried both. My experiments were awkward and sometimes really hard for me (but some of that has to do with the fact that plotting has always been really hard for me). I got a little information this way.

"Like me, the only way that you're going to get any kind of handle on what works is by rolling up your sleeves and getting down to work. In the end, you'll learn something much more valuable than 'what's better?'. You'll learn what's better FOR YOU. And (incoming! sticky wicket!) that may mean different things in different situations.

"Take me, for example. I'm a big fan of writing exercises. This probably hearkens back to school days -- yes, I liked school, go figure. I give myself exercises all the time. Since I'm convinced that I struggle with plotting (cha!), I work to swing that pendulum back the other way, by forcing myself to come up with stories all the time.

"I'd write a story every day if I didn't have a day job. Sometimes I do anyway. These don't have to be masterworks, mind you -- they don't even have to be very long. And they definitely don't have to be good. My only personal requirement is that they have to have is a beginning, a middle, and an end.

"As you can imagine, this is where freewriting and improv come in. Scott McCloud mentioned Tarot cards. Being a reader myself, I have a large collection of decks. He's right -- they're excellent for getting the stories going (heck, Tarot is all story -- but that's another story). Shuffle, lay out a couple of cards, look at the pictures, pick up your pen, don't stop writing until you have a story. Alternative: take some object in your line of vision and write a story about it (you don't need no stinking cards).

"After you do this a few times, you won't be so hung up on how "hard" plotting can be. Sometimes I clean up my little stories, turn them into something that resembles something suitable for public consumption someday. Sometimes not.

"Last year, bouyed by the success of these freewriting endeavors, I decided that I was going to freewrite a novel, in longhand, off the top of my head. I asked Leland to make me the perfect notebooks for the occassion, which he happily did. I carried one around everywhere. I carried a companion Moleskine, for character sketches and notes and the like. I had a decent idea and was ready to roll.

"It was a disaster. I'd write, then immediately I'd want to go back and fix things. Not because I was convinced that 'it sucked', mind you. No, it had to do with the frustration of trying to go back and add things in that would set up things two pages on -- things that I really liked, things that would make my life easier.

"I struggled with the project for months, most of which were spent not working on the novel. Eventually, I stopped writing it. The process totally went against my grain. Not working.

"I find that when I stop writing, it means that I'm doing something wrong. Eventually, I had another idea for a novel. It's a 'high concept' idea, one of those things that can be easily summed up in a sentence and neatly 'log-lined'. I fell in love with it. Not writing it was out of the question. But I knew that I had to do something different this time. I knew that I had to give myself support by working in a way that was going to help and not hinder me.

"I plotted. I did a scene-by-scene outline, with enough details to keep me going (what happens in the scene, why, what I need to accomplish), but not enough to take the fun out of writing the thing. And let me tell you, I had a blast doing it. I felt totally exhilarated the entire time. I felt -- and still feel -- like I can see this book through.

"This process would not work for everyone (one possible example: that friend of mine who got a nice advance on the novel that he freewrote by hand). But it worked for me. Talk about liberating and valuable, I'll tell ya.

"Maybe it won't work every time. Who knows. But I'm confident that it will work for some of my stuff. And for other things, the shorter things, pulling a story out of my ass will work just as well. I know this, because I've tried that, too.

"In the end, exploring the choice between plotting and improv is really about discovering your process. It's about figuring out what you need to do to write best, and (this is very important) have a ton of fun doing it."

My thanks to Lea and Elizabeth for taking the time to weigh in. Check out their work at their respective web sites and keep an eye out here at Scryptic Studios for Elizabeth's new column, THE CRAFT, running bi-weekly starting Monday, April 25th!

-----------------------------

Neil Kleid won the Xeric grant for NINETY CANDLES, an experimental graphic novella, and his first graphic novel, BROWNSVILLE, (with artist Jake Allen) debuts from NBM Publishing in 2005. He is currently writing URSA MINORS!, a four issue comedy mini-series for Slave Labor Graphics. A graphic designer by day, Neil harbors notions of writing full time. Weep for him.

Lea Hernandez is the multiple-Eisner nominated creator (and owner!) of the graphic novel series RUMBLE GIRLS, and the Texas Steampunk graphic novels CATHEDRAL CHILD, CLOCKWORK ANGELS and IRONCLAD PETAL. She is also the 2004 Lulu of the Year Award winner for her work as editor on girlamatic.com, rewrites the manga series OH! MY GODDESS and WHAT'S MICHAEL for Dark Horse Comics, artist of HARDY BOYS: THE OCEAN OF OSYRIA, and is the co-creator and artist of KILLER PRINCESSES.Her newest book is MANGA SECRETS.

Having self-published an award-winning zine, PLATFORM, Elizabeth Genco now spends most of her free time writing and pondering fiction. Among her many works-in-progress is a six-issue comics series with Leland Purvis.