Collaboration 101: How We Do It, Last Riff

[rolanni]

I'd meant to finish this set earlier. Unfortunately, book deliveries and more angst than usual at the day-job kind of distracted me.

Now, one of the things that people ask Steve and me about collaborating is how we resolve artistic differences; there are, after all, two of us and we must sometimes disagree. It is true that we do sometimes have different ideas about a story's direction or various technical details. Usually, these differences can be resolved by sitting down and talking, sometimes role-playing, until we're both on the same page again. Often, that page is not exactly what Steve had envisioned and not exactly what I had envisioned, but a blending of the two notions, all working (so we devoutly hope and believe) to strengthen the story.

And this is meet and just.

Sometimes, though, there arises. . .something that cannot be talked, role-played, or compromised away. Something that one of us feels So Very Strongly About that there is no compromise.

This is why each book has a traffic cop.

I suppose it must be the case with most long-time collaborators that some books are more the child of one partner's heart and intellect. Certainly, it's the case with Steve and me, and the traffic cop thus is the person who brought the idea for the story to the partnership. The traffic cop holds the third vote in any disagreement regarding that project; it is a tie-breaker vote, in case we cannot find agreement, and it is binding.

You may say that this is a broad and awesome power -- and you would be right.

That agreed, Steve has used his awesome tie-breaker powers exactly once, in a total of seventeen collaborative novels. I have also used my vote, enforcing my will and my vision on the story -- once.

The details of each case may be of interest, but as they contain spoilers, I'll continue

Steve was the traffic cop on Carpe Diem. I, as has been our frequent, though not invariable habit, typed the first draft. In that draft, two characters are escaping a vicious attack upon the Scout Base at Nev'Lorn. They flee in their ship, only to find that the enemy is pursuing them. Their case is desperate, and the enemy is lucky: the fleeing ship is struck and holed; both of the Scouts are killed.

No, no, no! said Steve; they can't die. We're going to need them, later!

I argued that this was the scene we had discussed and, indeed, the only logical outcome was as it was written. To no avail; Steve was adamant, and threw his tie-breaker on the table, to show how much this meant to him.

"Fine," I said; "change it. But if anyone ever calls us on it, you'll have to write the story that explains how they survived!"

That was were we left the matter; he re-wrote the scene in order to leave the survival or non of our intrepid Scouts ambiguous, and so the book was published.

No one questioned this scene for ten years. Then someone did, and Steve was obligated to write "Breath's Duty."

So, a happy outcome, a new story brought into the world, and in fact, we did need those characters later, and it would have been a shame not to have them in hand for Plan B. . .

. . .for which I was traffic cop.

I felt strongly that Plan B should move along at a sprightly clip, and, upon rereading the final draft, came upon a section that I felt slowed the action considerably.

I brought this section to Steve's attention; he was inclined to let it go. I slept on it, reread it again, and decided, no darn it, that one, very short, chapter was slowing everything down. It was unacceptable; it threw the whole book off-center.

So, I brought out my token, invoked my tie-breaker -- and pulled the chapter.

Now, at about that time, I had become somewhat visible due to my recent hiring as the Executive Director of SFWA. One of the people who noticed my new visibility was Anne McCaffrey, a long time member. She wrote me a lovely letter welcoming me to the job, and a she also sent me an email, wondering whatever happened to the Liadens, she'd read the first three books and then there weren't any more.

I was glad to be able to tell her that, in fact, Plan B was written and about to be sent to an editor. She wrote back and asked if I could email the manuscript to her.

Which I did.

Anne lives in Ireland. I woke up the next morning to find a note from her regarding Plan B -- we would have no trouble selling it, she said; it was wonderful, marvelous, kept her up all night; she adored it utterly, except --

There was a scene missing.

...and then she told me where it was missing from.

I wrote back and told her that, yes, there had been a scene of that size-and-shape approximately there, but it had been pulled to make weight.

Came the answering email, "Send it to me."

I found the pulled chapter, attached it to an email, sent it on its way and went to get coffee.

When I came back to my computer, there was an email from Anne, that said, simply: "Put it back."

One does not argue with the storytelling sense of Anne McCaffrey.

I put it back.

Here ends the last riff.

Comments

Loving the Glimpse Behind the Books

[sickmomma.livejournal.com]

Thank you SO much for the fabulous glimpse into how your books come to life. It really is fascinating to read, and I loved the anecdotes about the two occasions that a tie-breaking vote was used! (As a huge Anne McCaffrey fan, I also loved hearing about how she weighed in!)

:-)