- Joined
- Dec 29, 2014
- Location
- Central US
Hello BMR! I have found that I am having this conversation with many of my friends and co-writers, so I thought I would just write a little article here detailing what the actual f*ck I'm talking about and try and condense my ideas into sense. Probably I will tweak and edit and maybe expand on these thoughts in future posts on this thread, but I digress.
Post length
We all talk about it, and pretty regularly I think. At least among my own, I have often expressed the sentiment, "sorry this post is a little short," and had that same sentiment expressed to me, even though I have never given or received a comment like, "Man that post was kinda short, you useless ninny."
What gives? What is this inherent guilt that we feel when we hit send on a short post?
I think it stems from the call-and-response system inherent to forum writing, and that feeling that we must fill in all the gaps. We must react to what our partner did, insert characterization, and then act to move the plot forward, all within our post, and if we only give two paragraphs, maybe a total of 400-600 words, did we really accomplish that? This post is so short, it looks awful in comparison to the huge wall my partner just gave me!
Therein lies the trap.
Velocity and Drafting
I use the term "velocity" to describe many things. Post rate plays into it a little bit: Do you and your partner post every day each? Do you post once weekly? Once monthly?
Post length also is a factor. Are all your posts 60 words? Are they 300 words? A thousand words? Three thousand?
I do not believe that a thread that only gets a post once a week that is 4000 words is doomed to have low velocity, and I do not believe that a thread that gets 5 posts a day that are 100 words will inevitably have high velocity. I use the term as a sort of composite of many factors to describe how well the story moves along. A single thread will, over its life, go through periods of high and low velocities, when muses run high or low, action sequences happen, smut occurs, and so forth.
High velocity feels amazing, and it's what we're all here for: Those times where your muse is singing, the words are flowing, you're thinking about the story when you shower and having dreams about it, and you can't wait to get off work/school/life to get back to your keyboard, read your partner's post, and furiously taptaptap out a response. Low velocity, obviously, feels pretty bad. You sit down at your computer, write six words, then tab over to a YouTube video, and when you tab back in, your mind just isn't in it, you're not really there. It's slow, it's monotonous, and it can even feel stressful at times. Your partner is waiting on you, you have to get this post out. I think these low velocity periods are where most threads die.
Smut and dialog tend to be velocity-killers, and also a place where that shame creeps in. If your partners gives you a 1000 word essay that ends in, "So how do you like your eggs?" then chances are pretty good that beyond entering the diner and answering, "Over-medium, with toast," you're going to be pretty light on a response.
And that is okay!
Your job as a co-writer is to provide a response with substance, action, and reactivity. If you can do that in 300 words, I would implore you not to unnecessarily fluff up that post just to make it "look better." Post quality is so much more important than quantity. I can and have pumped out 6000 word wall-o'-the-texts, but I personally think those only have a true home when you're setting a scene, be it an intro post, a large transition, a time skip, or otherwise. Sometimes you get into that mystical flow state and you accidentally shit out a 2000 word essay in response to your partner's one-paragraph fart of a post, and that is totally fine and often times feels great, but expecting that to be your average or your norm can be exhausting and toxic to yourself.
A practice I have started with my partners is what we have taken to calling "Drafting," and this has been an absolutely instrumental tool in preserving velocity. When you have a scene that is, primarily, just two or more characters talking, your posts naturally shrink. You talk, they talk, you wiggle your eyebrows, they sigh from their chest, and then the next and the next and the next until the conversation ends. When these scenes come up, I often times like to make use of a faster-paced medium like Discord or PMs and organize a time where my partner and I can sit down and rapid-fire out super fast call-and-response messages that are usually only 20-50 words each, much like you would see in a novel written by a single author. Whoever is up to post then copies all of that text, formats it down, and posts it as one single block of text into their post, making sure to follow proper etiquette at the end of the post to give their partner a place to pick up the torch.
Example: This is a link to a post that contains drafted dialog. Gail and Tamsin are talking back and forth, and if you saw this with no context, it could look very much like Tamsin's writer is just straight up god-modding Gail through this scene. But what you don't see is that, behind the scenes, we popped into our server for this story, drafted through this dialog, and then they copied and pasted it into their post. And now it looks super organic, flows great, and, most importantly, did not take 15 posts of back and forth dialog to accomplish 45 seconds of in-world time.
A scene is worth a thousand words—and is often made of about that many
Intro posts are the place where you can let your keyboard run wild and really get your money's worth out of those mechanical switches you paid a premium for. A scene that is set well can be absolutely essential to a good story, and the more detail you can glean from that post, the better. But this comes at a cost: Energy. Spoons. Time. Raw brain power. You have to use these things to make a good post. The good news is that introduction posts often come at one of the highest points of enthusiasm for a story, right when the idea is fresh and you're just coming off the heels of the chat with your partner that got all the ideas flowing. It's new and exciting and getting all those words out feels great.
But when you're on post 105, and you're looking at your current three lines of text, and then you look back at your intro post and you think, "Why can't I get that much out this time?" you're setting yourself up for failure. You sit, stare at your words, and what happens most times is that you don't post at all. You get so caught up in the "length requirements" of your post that you simply fail to post anything, and that is one of the best ways to murder your velocity in cold blood.
Just send the damn post
When you write, just write, and don't think about length. Write until you're done. And then, just hit send. Trust that you are a good writer that is cognizant of what a post needs. Trust that your partner is not size-queening your posts every time they see them. Trust that your ability to tell a story is inherent, and that the text that you just wrote is good enough. If you write, and you finish writing, and the only problem you can see with the post is that it isn't long enough, then there is no problem with the post, only your perception of what is "required" of you as a writer.
I would rather get a post from my partner every other day that is 500 words than one post every two weeks that is 1500 words. I would rather get one post a week that is 500 words than no posts at all because they don't have the material to write more. Sometimes, there just isn't a good reason to write more than one paragraph.
And that's okay. We're still proud of you in the end.
Happy writing, writers.
Post length
We all talk about it, and pretty regularly I think. At least among my own, I have often expressed the sentiment, "sorry this post is a little short," and had that same sentiment expressed to me, even though I have never given or received a comment like, "Man that post was kinda short, you useless ninny."
What gives? What is this inherent guilt that we feel when we hit send on a short post?
I think it stems from the call-and-response system inherent to forum writing, and that feeling that we must fill in all the gaps. We must react to what our partner did, insert characterization, and then act to move the plot forward, all within our post, and if we only give two paragraphs, maybe a total of 400-600 words, did we really accomplish that? This post is so short, it looks awful in comparison to the huge wall my partner just gave me!
Therein lies the trap.
Velocity and Drafting
I use the term "velocity" to describe many things. Post rate plays into it a little bit: Do you and your partner post every day each? Do you post once weekly? Once monthly?
Post length also is a factor. Are all your posts 60 words? Are they 300 words? A thousand words? Three thousand?
I do not believe that a thread that only gets a post once a week that is 4000 words is doomed to have low velocity, and I do not believe that a thread that gets 5 posts a day that are 100 words will inevitably have high velocity. I use the term as a sort of composite of many factors to describe how well the story moves along. A single thread will, over its life, go through periods of high and low velocities, when muses run high or low, action sequences happen, smut occurs, and so forth.
High velocity feels amazing, and it's what we're all here for: Those times where your muse is singing, the words are flowing, you're thinking about the story when you shower and having dreams about it, and you can't wait to get off work/school/life to get back to your keyboard, read your partner's post, and furiously taptaptap out a response. Low velocity, obviously, feels pretty bad. You sit down at your computer, write six words, then tab over to a YouTube video, and when you tab back in, your mind just isn't in it, you're not really there. It's slow, it's monotonous, and it can even feel stressful at times. Your partner is waiting on you, you have to get this post out. I think these low velocity periods are where most threads die.
Smut and dialog tend to be velocity-killers, and also a place where that shame creeps in. If your partners gives you a 1000 word essay that ends in, "So how do you like your eggs?" then chances are pretty good that beyond entering the diner and answering, "Over-medium, with toast," you're going to be pretty light on a response.
And that is okay!
Your job as a co-writer is to provide a response with substance, action, and reactivity. If you can do that in 300 words, I would implore you not to unnecessarily fluff up that post just to make it "look better." Post quality is so much more important than quantity. I can and have pumped out 6000 word wall-o'-the-texts, but I personally think those only have a true home when you're setting a scene, be it an intro post, a large transition, a time skip, or otherwise. Sometimes you get into that mystical flow state and you accidentally shit out a 2000 word essay in response to your partner's one-paragraph fart of a post, and that is totally fine and often times feels great, but expecting that to be your average or your norm can be exhausting and toxic to yourself.
A practice I have started with my partners is what we have taken to calling "Drafting," and this has been an absolutely instrumental tool in preserving velocity. When you have a scene that is, primarily, just two or more characters talking, your posts naturally shrink. You talk, they talk, you wiggle your eyebrows, they sigh from their chest, and then the next and the next and the next until the conversation ends. When these scenes come up, I often times like to make use of a faster-paced medium like Discord or PMs and organize a time where my partner and I can sit down and rapid-fire out super fast call-and-response messages that are usually only 20-50 words each, much like you would see in a novel written by a single author. Whoever is up to post then copies all of that text, formats it down, and posts it as one single block of text into their post, making sure to follow proper etiquette at the end of the post to give their partner a place to pick up the torch.
Example: This is a link to a post that contains drafted dialog. Gail and Tamsin are talking back and forth, and if you saw this with no context, it could look very much like Tamsin's writer is just straight up god-modding Gail through this scene. But what you don't see is that, behind the scenes, we popped into our server for this story, drafted through this dialog, and then they copied and pasted it into their post. And now it looks super organic, flows great, and, most importantly, did not take 15 posts of back and forth dialog to accomplish 45 seconds of in-world time.
A scene is worth a thousand words—and is often made of about that many
Intro posts are the place where you can let your keyboard run wild and really get your money's worth out of those mechanical switches you paid a premium for. A scene that is set well can be absolutely essential to a good story, and the more detail you can glean from that post, the better. But this comes at a cost: Energy. Spoons. Time. Raw brain power. You have to use these things to make a good post. The good news is that introduction posts often come at one of the highest points of enthusiasm for a story, right when the idea is fresh and you're just coming off the heels of the chat with your partner that got all the ideas flowing. It's new and exciting and getting all those words out feels great.
But when you're on post 105, and you're looking at your current three lines of text, and then you look back at your intro post and you think, "Why can't I get that much out this time?" you're setting yourself up for failure. You sit, stare at your words, and what happens most times is that you don't post at all. You get so caught up in the "length requirements" of your post that you simply fail to post anything, and that is one of the best ways to murder your velocity in cold blood.
Just send the damn post
When you write, just write, and don't think about length. Write until you're done. And then, just hit send. Trust that you are a good writer that is cognizant of what a post needs. Trust that your partner is not size-queening your posts every time they see them. Trust that your ability to tell a story is inherent, and that the text that you just wrote is good enough. If you write, and you finish writing, and the only problem you can see with the post is that it isn't long enough, then there is no problem with the post, only your perception of what is "required" of you as a writer.
I would rather get a post from my partner every other day that is 500 words than one post every two weeks that is 1500 words. I would rather get one post a week that is 500 words than no posts at all because they don't have the material to write more. Sometimes, there just isn't a good reason to write more than one paragraph.
And that's okay. We're still proud of you in the end.
Happy writing, writers.