Shakespeare Didn’t Use Scrivener—Why Should I?

A short story, zygote phase

Well, let’s dispatch with the title question first: I’m not Shakespeare. No, no, don’t try to soothe my oozing writer’s wounds, I can take it. Aside from that ounce of obviousness, there’s this: no coders had the sense to put together Scrivener in Shakespeare’s day—in fact, his choices of apps (basically a quill pen and maybe some foolscap) were pretty bare bones. He didn’t do too badly with them, though.

But I think if good Will had access to the program, he would have found lots to like in its flexibility in shifting and sorting blocks of text, storing character descriptions and synopses, organizing scenes into relationships, and having a repository of reference materials like links and images. Willie would probably like being able to export to ebook formats too: King Lear would make a Kindle’s screen crack with its stormy scenes.

I’ve only been using the program a couple of days (and no, I’m not pimping any affiliate marketing here), so I won’t go deeply into its considerable feature package. But just in playing with it a bit, let’s look at it from a benefits standpoint: When you are composing long or complex documents, many are the times you want to bring up a specific section of  text for comparison and verification with another—say to ensure that you had a character’s age set in an early phase of an novel, and wanted to confirm that correct age in a later instance. It’s a cinch to bring up disparate parts of a long document side-by-side in Scrivener.

Speaking of characters, if you’re the kind of writer who builds a detailed profile of a character in a background document, the database structure of Scrivener means you can bring up a character study in a moment to review it against how you’ve rendered a character’s behavior in a scene. You can change the character’s profile, or change the scene or both. The Reference areas of the application lend themselves to the storage of URLs, images and data snippets relevant to the project. And if you were midway through a project started in another word processor or text editor, importing is easy, as is exporting back out, including some nifty formatting tools.

Why Now, Oh Scrivener?

I’ve written a couple of novels and a book of short stories without bothering to use a tool like Scrivener—why now? A couple of reasons: first, I’d heard great word-of-mouth report from writers who delighted in the program. But are those the ravings of people who just want to geek out with slick software, and not pointed to the ultimate outcome, the writing itself? I’ll find out.

I moved to the software because the new novel I’m going to work on will be an interconnected series of short stories, all intended to have a thematic coherency. A program like Scrivener, which lets you jump back and forth through long skeins of text, move and merge elements around in a jiffy, and organize and edit lots of contributive character and scene data is perfect for the work I envision. If only it would do the writing for me.

But the seed of the story that’s caught in the image above isn’t part of that novel. It’s a short story that I’ve thought about writing for a while, and I finally figured out the point-of-view and voice of the piece, and decided that I want to jump back and forth from past to present through the story. Those jumps and scene snatchings will be a perfect test for a longer Scrivener project.

So, any Scrivener users among you wordsmiths out there? Thoughts? And as for that Shakespeare guy: Mac or PC?

Gertrude Stein’s Mustache (or Goodbye 2012)

image of crystal ball

I predict I’ll have lunch soon, and in 2013 too

Much as I want to steal from Willy the Shake, and employ purple phrasings like “the cloud-capped towers, the gorgeous palaces” to map the mental landscapes of this past year, I’m too drowsy to try and capture all the year’s pathos and its pleasures in a summary. To borrow more from the bard, instead, let’s merely glance back at such stuff as dreams are made on, and round our little life with a sleep.

First, I’m still grateful to remain above ground. I don’t know what’s on the menu in eternity, but for the moment, I’m dieting. I’m happy there are hummingbirds, old friends, cake and metaphors. And let’s hear it for words: there are gallons of them about, but I’ll never tire of the drinking. Words have weight, and they are often slung about carelessly; I’ve got some flesh wounds myself from both delivering and darting away from them, but they still provide me with comfort.

It seems to me that there’s never been a better time to be a freelance writer, whether you’re in it for the shekels or the soulfulness. For example, in this past year I spent a month in Panama and two in the Bahamas, only because the Internet’s indulgences let me ply my trade many meaty miles from where the trading was done.

I’m an accomplished complainer, but I’m trying to be happy with the little things. For instance, my sideburns are coming in nicely. After all, look what Faulkner’s moustache did for him. Look what Gertrude Stein’s mustache—well, never mind. But finding small pleasures is bigger than it seems.

The Keyboard Reels at the Possibilities

So, for 2013, I might try writing an advice column for the lovelorn, using only passages from Dickens. For instance, “Cows are my passion. What I have ever sighed for has been to retreat to a Swiss farm, and live entirely surrounded by cows,” might work well for someone hoping to leave an office affair.

Or maybe a write a cookbook of Dali’s favorite foods. His favorite drink was said to be a cocktail made of absinthe and eggs. Perhaps add some melted watch and cheese, and a bowler hat full of similes. You get the idea—the coming year is wide open.

I must sign off with a wave to my father, Sgt. Bentley, who left this world on New Year’s Day two years ago. I miss him.

Best to all (except those of you who are weasels) in 2013! Oh, what the heck, you weasels can have a fine time too.