So, I’m nearing the end of my experiment with Steve Gaskell. We’re writing a novella together, tentatively named “Skimming the Sun.” It was planned as a short story, perhaps a novelette, but it’s grown. We decided not to put any artificial constraints on it, and as it grew, we just let it — no conscious effort to reduce size, other than being open to reducing the size if it seemed warranted. It didn’t. It felt like this was the right size for this story. We’re currently at 32k and it’ll probably end up being about 35 by the time we’re done. It feels, oddly enough, like a tight 32k at the moment. Not much fat (though there is some).

I’ve been thinking about collaborations in general the last few days. This was my first try as a seasoned author. I know that collaborations will be handled in all sorts of different ways. For me and Steve, we divided the story into two parallel tracks, one “past” storyline and one “present”. Those also happen to correspond to the two main characters in the book, each of us focusing one of those characters, though I write about Steve’s character in my thread and he writes about mine in his.

Other than the difficulty of matching our schedules (he lives in Brighton, UK, I live in Racine, WI, USA), it’s gone surprisingly smoothly. I think one reason is that we have similar writing styles (though I will confess that I tend more toward plot-driven story — something I’m constantly working to mitigate — and Steve tends more toward character-driven story). I don’t think I have the right temperament to work with someone whose writing style is wildly different from mine, at least writing in this manner. (More on that in a moment.) I think another reason it’s gone well is that both of us have been very open to change, and I mean that in two ways.

First, we’re both open to allowing changes in the ideas that we’ve come up with or the things we’ve written. This is entirely necessary, I think, to a successful collaboration. You have to be able to give, even if it’s not quite how you would have done it alone. It may not even necessarily be better than what you would have done by yourself, only different, and that’s a different kind of benefit: you expand your horizons by allowing things to enter the story that you coudln’t have thought of on your own. That’s not to say that most of our suggestions don’t make the story better. Many of them do. But there are some where it’s almost a coin toss as to the benefit to the story. It’s more about personal tastes, background, tendencies, etc. And then it’s a matter of negotiating and trying to figure out which stays most true to the story and the characters.

The second way of being open to change is to have the chutzpah to recommend changes. I think we’ve both been very forthcoming about this, not being worried about offending the other. You can’t, assuming you really want to include someone else on a writing project, close yourself off to ideas. There have been a few cases where we’ve both had to just sit on an idea for a few days, mull it over, before coming to a decision. But, of course, you have to be able to stand up for something you believe in as well.

Even worse than recommending changes is actually rewriting certain sections of prose that the other wrote. When you’re reviewing, you’ll often suggest things, give examples of change. But this is out-and-out changing what someone wrote. I don’t mind when Steve does it with my prose, but I feel like I’m walking on eggshells when I do it with his. It’s a constantly changing landscape, doing this. It’s like walking inside one of those bouncy carnival tents: you never quite have your balance, no matter how sure-footed you are on solid ground. It’s a tightrope act. You have to get over your fears while not acting like a bull in a China shop.

I mentioned above about not wanting to work with someone whose style was wildly different than my own. What I mean is that I couldn’t tackle a story in this way: both of us writing, both editing one another’s prose. But I could envision another way of working, and I know collaborations that have worked this way: both writers plot the story and create the characters (see, there I go again — I put plotting first…), but only one person writes. Then both edit, and one person (usually the same person again), incorporates the edits. Lather, rinse, and repeat until the story’s finished. That way, the story comes out with a single voice. Otherwise you might end up with a Frankenstein story that has clearly different writing styles in different sections. (That might be pretty cool for the right kind of story, but those stories are vastly outnumbered by those that would benefit from a single voice. Plus, both writers would have to be really good to pull something like this off. It’s not something I think I’m ready for yet. Maybe someday.)

So far, it’s been a great experience. And I think the story’s going to be a good one. Time will tell…