One at a time or everything at once

There are two basic approaches to combining or developing ideas and story:  in-depth development, and the kitchen sink approach. These are opposite ends of a continuum, of course; there are very few writers who work strictly one way or the other. Still, it’s useful to think about the extremes before one starts thinking about how to mix them.

In-depth development is just what it sounds like – the writer takes one idea, one character or scene or situation or theme or puzzle, and explores it thoroughly. Depending on the writer and where he’s starting from, this can result in unexpectedly complex stories with multiple subplots, each of which illuminates a different aspect of whatever-it-is the writer is digging into, or in more focused stories with a single central thread that dig deeply into each character’s motivations and reactions.

Kitchen sink stories, by contrast, take a “more is better” attitude – the writer throws in everything she can think of. There are flying horses and an emotional argument in chapter one, a mysterious stranger and a set of magic swords in chapter two, aliens land in chapter three and have a fight with pirates over the flying horses, the ninjas break in through the window in chapter four to steal one of the magic swords while the mysterious stranger blackmails the main character and one of the pirates absconds with the second romantic lead, and so on. There are dozens of interlocking plots and subplots – action, politics, romance, mystery … everything the writer can make fit, and maybe even a few extras that don’t quite work but that seemed like a good idea at the time.

Each way of working has good points and bad ones. In-depth development is likely to hold strongly any reader who likes whatever idea the writer is examining, but it may lose folks who aren’t thrilled by that particular thing. Also, the writer can inadvertently start repeating the same points in supposedly-different subplots, or slow down the central plot thread out of a need to check out every character’s reaction to whatever just happened before proceeding to the next plot point.

Kitchen sink stories can be virtuoso performances, with lots of cool shiny events and glitter, like a Mardi Gras parade. They have something for everyone, but it can be easy for plotlines to fall though the cracks and remain unresolved (which will end up being unsatisfying for those readers who really liked that particular plotline). It’s easy to lose focus.

Although it’s not a hard-and-fast rule, it also seems to me that kitchen-sink stories occur more often near the beginning of a writer’s career and in-depth development ones nearer the end. I’m not sure why. It could be a matter of confidence (or lack thereof) – early on, the writers may think they have to throw absolutely every cool idea that comes to mind into the story, because they might not get another chance, while later in their careers, they figure that if this story doesn’t work out, they can always write another one. Or some of those late-career writers might be hoarding their cool ideas in case they run out.

Or it could be a natural part of the way writing changes as writers get more comfortable with their process and, perhaps, more interested in exploring particular aspects of writing that appeal to or challenge them, instead of trying to do everything at once.

Or it could just be that ideas are the easy part, so some just-starting-off folks throw in as many as possible in hopes of compensating for perceived lacks in other areas (which gets back to the confidence thing).

Whatever the reason, there’s something really satisfying about a successful kitchen sink book: watching the writer juggle all those balls can be a wonder and delight. A well-executed book that explores one idea or theme in depth, twisting and turning it through as many permutations as the writer can, is equally satisfying in a completely different way. The two things scratch different itches, for both reader and writer, and I think it’s well worth experimenting with both types.