In my past two articles I’ve written about two groups of readers I’ve seen debating one another:  the “black and white team”, who enjoy stories where noble heroes defeat loathsome villains in a world of clearly defined morality, and the “grey camp”, who want their fiction to challenge them to think about the world and see situations from different points of view.  As writers, we may enjoy both types of story or we may prefer one over the other.  I feel there’s a market for both types of tale, or there wouldn’t be so many debates over which type of story is “better”.  Just as it’s hardly fair to say that science fiction is “better” than fantasy or horror is “better” than romance because different genres attract different readers, what matters most is how well the writer succeeds in giving the reader what she is looking for in a story.

A successful “black and white team” story will fulfill the reader’s expectations of a grand battle between good  and evil.  Writing a “grey camp” story can be challenging for the writer because it pushes her outside the traditional heroic narrative.  If a “black and white team” story runs the risk of entering cliché territory, where a Perfect Hero faces off against a Cartoon Villain for an inevitable victory, a “grey camp” story can devolve into a situation where neither side seems preferable to the other, leaving the reader confused.  Or, the protagonist can be so unpleasant that readers don’t want to follow him on his adventures.

A “grey camp” story demands that the writer be able to see the world through his characters’ eyes—both the protagonists and the antagonists.  Both sides need to have a coherent worldview in which the behaviours that put them into conflict are logical extensions of their beliefs, goals, and historical experiences.  Both sides will have flaws, and both sides will have positive traits.  But in a world of such grey morality, how can the reader choose who to cheer for?

One way of making an anti-hero appealing is to make his enemies even worse; but this technique alone will not guarantee that readers will want to follow him through the story.  It’s best if the anti-hero has at least one admirable trait.  If he is a clever thief, the reader will enjoy watching him outsmart the police.  If he is a gangster who overthrows his abusive father for control of their criminal empire, the reader will admire his courage and tenacity.  If he is an enemy spy who falls in love with the woman he seduces, readers will hope that their love can survive the revelation of his true identity.  There is a certain appeal to some audiences to read about characters who do things that would be terrible in real life, but can entertain in fiction, taking the reader to an aspect of the world far different from her own.

In other examples, the creator has chosen a main character that has only a vague similarity with the reader:  for example, a human fighting aliens.  Only as the story progresses do readers come to see that the “enemy” has a legitimate point of view.  Some may choose to remain on the “side” of the protagonist, while others might find themselves cheering for the “antagonist”.  Reader’s loyalties may come to lie with certain characters, but not necessarily with their causes.  The ambiguous worldview—what is good?  What is evil?—lays open the possibility of characters doing unpredictable things, unfettered by many of the constraints of the traditional narrative.

Grey protagonists, done well, can be interesting and challenging because they do things that a traditional “hero” wouldn’t do.  They often find themselves in circumstances where they have to make a choice between two difficult options.  It is left to the reader to decide whether their behaviour is justified given the circumstances.  That decision in turn will be affected by the beliefs and life experiences of the reader.

Some readers will prefer the traditional heroic narrative, where it is easier to decide who to cheer for, where they may not be forced to examine their own beliefs and worldview.  Others will seek out a story that exposes them to alternative points of view and challenges them to think.  Both types of fiction have pitfalls for the writer:  how to keep the traditional narrative fresh and interesting?  How to guide readers through a world where morality is in flux?  Rather than debate which type of story is “better”, writers should challenge themselves to create a tale that will deliver a satisfying story for their reader.

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So, I did it. 40,917 words. 113 pages. All in three days.

Now I have a novella to show for it – one that needs massive editing, mind, and one that I’ve been finding little narrative holes all through the more that I think about it – but nevermind. It’s done. I entered the Three-Day Novel Writing Contest and I made my goal. I got the e-mail from the contest organizer that proves it. In January I learn what they thought of it and whether it was enough to get on the shortlist (my oh-so-Canadian goal).

Now, of course, the writing has to take a back seat to work and life and all of those other things that I put off. There are lots of scientific papers to write and other duties at work to complete. There’s a house to clean before the in-laws get here for Thanksgiving. There won’t be time to sit down and write anything more for a while, but honestly? That can’t wipe out the sense of accomplishment that this gave me.

I wrote this. I sat down and wrote a story that I like and that I’m happy with, beginning to end. The three days bit was fun and outrageous, but that sense of completion? I would have that whether it had been three days or three years.

It’s been a while since I’ve felt that satisfied. Like many writers, I have a hard-drive full of unfinished drafts and false starts, and sometimes I go back in my weaker moments to try and recapture the creative energy that seemed to come from those beginnings. I’ve often felt a strange nostalgia in reading these – a sense of the possibility that the story held, and a moment of sadness that it didn’t seem to take off from the ground. There were always reasons why they didn’t work – a plot point too unbelievable, a character too unsympathetic – but there was always some spark there, and I sometimes wish I could take those fragments and keep going on them.
Maybe someday.

But there comes a point when you need to finish something, and when you do, even if it’s not as exciting as publication, it always feels like the biggest thing in the whole world. This is the first story I’ve finished in a long, long time, let alone something I’m happy with, and I’m looking forward to letting it stew for a while before tackling it with an even greater vigour, trying to craft it into something even more than it is now.

I’d love to hear how other people feel when they finish. Do you get pleased with yourself, like I do, or does it just spur you on to greater things? What’s been the most accomplished moment you’ve had lately with your writing?

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My day job exists in a strange state of flux. There is only black and white, no shades between. I deal in actual fact, method, motive, and circumstance.

But yet, everything is painted over with this strange gray haze. Good guys do bad things, sometimes bad guys do good things. Smart people make dumb decisions, and generally ignorant people end up doing things so off the wall bloody fricken’ genius that it would just make your head spin.

I exist in the here and now, the actual reality of fictional realism. Things that happen defy logic, exist without rhyme or reason. They’re just accepted as existing, simply because they are.

But even in the end of it, we’re all guided by black and white. Yet, while there is only one right way to do things, there’s an infinite number of wrong ways to do the right thing.

And so exist my characters. There is no defined archetype. They exist because they do. And the things they do, they do because they want to. Whether guided by logic, madness, revenge, or even lust. Heck, I’ve been known to find some strange demonic presence skulking about in the corner of a character’s bedroom, guiding their hand in all that is achieved.

I’ve heard the modern era of fiction’s gray bemoaned by the archetypical fiction writers. There’s nothing wrong stylistically.

But, we live in troubled times. And the greatest fiction often mimics society at the time of its writing.

Don’t be afraid to try something new.

Because even in the gray, you might find your gold.

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Do you know the thing I love the most about being a writer? It’s not the creation of beautiful prose (though, that is a lovely outcome). It’s not the fact that, when I’m finally published and I gain super-author status I will be able to finally stay at home in my PJ’s for a living (hey, it could totally happen).

No, the reason I love writing is because I, with all my inadequacies and failures and social ineptitudes, get to be a villain.

Let’s face it people. From the moment we sit down to craft a story, we become devious creatures. We build human beings of our own devising just to put them through hell for the enjoyment of others. And we do it with a smile on our faces (inherently villainous). We spend days, weeks, and months picking the right words to manipulate the reader into thinking what we want them to (true super-villainy).

My fine friend, the craft of writing is a master class in being an evil mastermind.

Now, you might say that a character isn’t technically a person, so that doesn’t count.

My reply would be that you’ve obviously never been in a room full of Sherrilyn Kenyon fans. To the reader experiencing your story, the characters should always be people. Complex and issue-riddled, they have faults just like the frail flesh and blood variety. The reader has to see them as real people, or they won’t care what happens to them.

So, once the character is complete and real and human, it’s our job to knock them flat, destroy their lives, kill their friends and loved ones, maim them, torture them, and do pretty much whatever we can to make what’s left of their lives as difficult as possible. Then, we become really cruel. We make them figure a way out all by themselves. This paper person must be active, so no shortcuts, no divine providence. Providence, after all, is the realm of gods, and for your story, you are god—a villainous god. And don’t forget, like the arena of old, this is all for entertainment’s sake.

My, my. We are evil, aren’t we?

But the most dastardly part is what we do to the reader. Our entire craft is completely based on manipulation, obfuscation, and downright lying. From the reliance on descriptive word choice and using the active voice, to how characters walk and what’s in their refrigerators, we work to guide the reader’s subconscious perceptions. It’s kinda like when movie theaters used to splice subliminal advertising into their previews to get the audience to go buy things from the concession stand. Done right, the reader never knows they’re being manipulated. But make no mistake. What we’re doing is convincing the reader what to think, how to feel, and when to do both.

I’m feeling a little like Big Brother in an Orwellian kinda way, aren’t you?

Being able to manipulate the reader like this is, of course, a very difficult and delicate kind of manipulation that takes much hard work, years of on the job study, many maligning critiques (yet more proof of my point), and plotting (See? I just made a pun. I must be evil.). It’s not easy, but highly enjoyable when you see all the minions you create who will love you for being the black-hearted creature of darkness you really are.

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I have been watching a fair amount of Star Trek lately – okay, a lot.  The Next Generation specifically, but each of the different series revolves around a basic premise: Mankind has advanced technologically to the point where concerns about materials and resources are mostly extinct.  Replicators exist that can construct matter in a manner that can basically spit out anything the user could desire.  Crew members of the U.S.S. Enterprise use them mostly for food and drink, but their functionality doesn’t stop there.  Presumably they can be used to construct anything physical, be they toys, games, pictures or literature (though antiquated at this future point in time).

This technology is not limited to the space-faring crew of the Enterprise, either.  The devices are supposedly in use on Earth and on pretty much every colony or space station the Federation lays claim to.  According to the Captain of the Enterprise, Jean Luc Picard, without concern for limited resources, humanity now works “to better” themselves.

My question is this: forget about the specific setting of the various Star Trek series for now, and consider your own present time and position.  If you were left without want for material or resources, would your current artistic goals, activities and aspirations remain the same?  Would they differ at all?

Most writers are certainly not in it for the money, and if they are, they may be a little misguided.  It is my experience that for the most part, the effort put in usually greatly outweighs the physical or material gain.  I don’t think this is an alien concept to any writer.  I’ve been looking for a full-time application for my love of writing and editing, but, in the meantime I write Freelance.  The money is often measly.  I recently signed up for work on a site that started paying about $1.50 for 200-300 word articles, or, about half of this post.  For 200-300 words, if I am writing for a client and not just myself, I would estimate about a half hour to an hour’s work, assuming some sort of research or preparation was going to be involved.  Let’s say it takes one half hour from accepting the assignment to completely finishing and submitting an edited piece.  That is still about $3.00 an hour.  Not exactly rock star money.

On the other end of the spectrum, writers can stand to make quite a bit of money.  One need only look no further than the likes of J.K. Rowling or Stephen King.  There is no point trying to break down exactly how much those two make, it would only make the rest of us feel bad.

My point is, whether we are making $3.00 an hour, or substantially more, many of us probably began pursuing publication with the dream of making a career of it.  Take it back to my original question: without material concern, would we still continue to write?  Would we write simply for the art of it, as a means to better ourselves and society?

Personally, I cannot see myself writing as much as I currently do.  I am sure I would probably still be drawn to it, but would I really be motivated to hone my craft to a razor’s edge, “just because”?  I think that without the challenge to see exactly how far I can take it, or the starry-eyed visions of a day when I’ve hurtled every obstacle to cross some oft dreamed of finish line, writing would lose some of its meaning to me.

Are any of you like me?  In a Trek-like future, would you be the terry-cloth robed hedonist devouring barbeque rib after barbeque rib, or would your ideals win out?  Would you be able to overlook the lack of a materialistic challenge and continue producing your art for its own sake, and with as much vigor?

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Let me state upfront how I feel about the term “aspiring writer”: I like it not.

In other professions, it makes sense to refer to someone new to the field as “aspiring.” When you’re in med school, you’re aspiring to a career in the healthcare industry. When you’re studying for your bar exam, you’re an aspiring lawyer. When you’ve landed your first gig on a TV show, you’re no longer an aspiring actor. You’ve become a full-fledged actor.

Can the same be said of a writer?

There are several terms to delineate newer writers from those who have been around: novice vs. experienced, published vs. unpublished, etc. These are obviously important distinctions to make when determining the stage of a writer’s career. The term aspiring writer is often meant to provide a similar distinction, but from what exactly are we distinguishing it?

The examples I gave above (aspiring doctor, aspiring lawyer) refer to someone who is on the path to their chosen career, but are not there yet. The aspiring doctor is not yet practicing medicine. The aspiring lawyer is not yet lawyering.

But almost all aspiring writers do write.

Before, it might have made sense to say that an aspiring writer was one who has never been professionally published. Such a distinction these days is murky at best. For where do we draw the line? Would we say that bestseller John Locke is “aspiring” to be a real writer simply because he’s never been traditionally published (distribution deals aside)?

More fundamentally, to say that a person is aspiring to be a writer is to imply that they are not really a writer. Someone who has written a dozen books is a writer, even if he’s a lousy one and none of those books was fit to print. Say what you will of the quality of his writing, but he has written; do not take that away from him by saying he is aspiring to be, and thus is not truly, a writer.

You might argue that it’s just a word, and that it doesn’t really matter in the big picture. But the Declaration of Independence, too, is just words, but it is a collection of words that has shaped the course of history. As writers, we well know the power of words, as well we know that the wrong word can ruin the meaning of what we’re trying to say.

I think the term “aspiring writer” really only should be applied to the people who want to write a story someday, but have not yet managed to sit in front of a blank white screen, pummel their keyboards, and give shape to the story in their minds.

I have not yet published a book. I have not yet made a dime writing. I have not yet been showered with awards or praise or royalties. These are things I do aspire to.

But I am a writer, dammit, and I bet you are one, too.

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This isn’t the blog post I set out to write.  We aspire to be a blog for writers dealing with the business and/or process of writing.  Sometimes though, writing is about more than the characters and the plot.  Sometimes, it can be about real life, even when everyone in the story is wearing armor and carrying swords.

I’m sure I’m not alone when I say I’ve spent a fair amount of time the past few days watching documentaries about the 9/11 terrorist attacks.  To the majority of Americans – indeed even a great number of world citizens – it is the single most historically significant event to take place within the span of our lives.

We can all remember where we were when we first heard the news.  We’ve all seen the haunting images of the senseless violence.  It was impossible to not be affected in some way emotionally by the events of that day.

Is it no wonder those emotions would find their way into my writing?

In the days and weeks directly after the attacks, I was surprised to see just how affected my writing became.  I was in grad school for screenwriting at the time.  Like many people I knew, I was angry, and the scripts I wrote during that period reflected that.  Loss and vengeance appeared frequently.

But, what became apparent while revisiting the footage these past few days, is how certain images and themes found their way into my fantasy years later.  The story I’m currently working on takes place partly in a desert city.  The desert itself is comprised of fine, gray dust and littered with teetering towers of obsidian.  When I was worldbuilding, I didn’t consciously draw upon images from 9/11, and yet this is just one of many that has manifested in my writing.

It seems only natural.

To write is to express emotion.  Just because we write speculative fiction doesn’t mean that, in some way, we’re not using it to look at relevant issues of our own time.  To dissect them.  To find out what motivates some people to do unspeakable things.  Perhaps, on some level, to find reasons to sympathize with those people, to understand them.  Or perhaps to live vicariously through the hero, thwarting the enemy’s plan in the eleventh hour and saving the day.

Sometimes, however, we write simply to cope.

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A good question raised about going to conventions, workshops, and seminars asked how in the world does someone budget for these things. They can get unbelievably expensive. And it’s not just the event itself; there’s transportation there and back, food while you’re gone, and lodging. I don’t have all the answers, but here are some ways that have helped me.

First off, no matter how well you budget, there’s going to be a price tag. I consider the cost of cons and workshops to be my tuition or continuing education so I fit it into the budget. Maybe I’m only justifying using up my family’s money, but really, if I went back to school to get a masters or Ph.D. I’d spend even more without a much better guarantee I’d garner a return. Still, there are a few things you can do to cut costs.

For transportation, sign up with a rewards program to eventually, I hope, help with the cost of airfare. I wish I’d given myself this advice two years ago. I just barely signed up and it’s going to take a while to earn any rewards. Or…carpool. You might be surprised at how many people are driving from or through your area to attend an interesting convention.

Share the room. By getting a roommate you’ve cut one of the major expenses in half. I’m sharing for FantasyCon with a fellow writer met at Superstars Seminar. We’re not coming and going at exactly the same time, but it’s still costing us less than it would otherwise.
Booking a room close to the event, but not as expensive as the sponsoring hotel can help with lodging costs as well. Two years ago I stayed with a sister-in-law who lived around the corner from where World FantasyCon was taking place. I also stayed with family in order to attend Conduit last year. Usually it’s more fun and a good idea to stay in the main hotel, but sometimes it’s just not worth the cost. I couldn’t have attended otherwise.

If you do stay in a different hotel, get one with a refrigerator and a microwave. I’ve been known to do what I call “camp con” where I eat the offered breakfast at the cheap hotel, nuke up lunch or dinner in the microwave, then go out with fellow attendees for the other meal. This worked great at one of Dave Farland’s workshops because he always has them in reasonably priced hotels which have refrigerators and microwaves.

Now you might say, but I don’t know people I can do this with. You have to make it happen. Usually, there’s a way to connect with other attendees before the event. Either the person or group hosting will have a list of attendees, you can contact people through facebook, or you can request something be set up so attendees can communicate with each other. By staying active in a local writing group you can often find others who want to attend the same event. As your networking grows, your own fb page may be enough to get the word out. Just post something like, “I’m going to WorldFantasy Con in October. Does anyone know someone who would be willing to carpool?”

Of course, make sure you get to know someone before you do something like this. And make sure you feel safe. There are crazies out there; different crazy than just sf/f nuts. You have to always be careful, but as you get out you’ll get to know people. Go to those writing groups in your area, go to smaller cons in your area, and find out who’s going where. The more we network, the more we can help each other. But that’s a whole other post, and I think I’ve said more than enough this week.
Anyone with other ideas or experiences? I’d love to hear more.

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The undeniable truth is that writers are ultimately responsible for marketing their books themselves. Nobody questions this state of affairs in the realm of self-publishing, of course, where the author is responsible for every aspect of his or her book. But even writers with big contracts from major publishers will tell you that a great deal (okay, the lion’s share) of the publicity work ends up landing on their plate.Having recently secured a publishing deal with a small press in Canada (where I’m from), I now find myself in the position of having to execute a marketing plan for my own book. Marketing is not my strength. In fact, as a purely creative type who wants to spend all his time living in his own make-believe worlds (I know, I sound like a fun person to spend a Saturday night with, right?), taking on the burden of building a fanbase is an unsavory business I would much rather avoid—or at least leave to the professionals.

Fortunately, I have a writing partner on the project so I don’t have to go it alone.

First, we set to the task of brainstorming some ways to get the word out about our coming book. Before too long, an obvious target for our efforts emerged: social media.

On my own, I would hardly consider myself a social media guru. I check Facebook almost every day, but I post updates infrequently (no more than a couple of times per month). I don’t have a Twitter account, and don’t even get me started on this Google+ nonsense. Frankly, it seems entirely too time-consuming, as though I could spend all my time promoting myself and never find the time to actually write. I guess some people are wired for it more than others.

Like my writing partner, for example. Thank heavens for small miracles.

Just over two weeks ago, we started our campaign by opening a Facebook account for one of the main characters in the novel. Just as it’s important to keep a blog active in order to see eventual success, we knew this would only have a shot at working if the account stayed active and busy, and built up a significant number of followers very quickly.

We met our initial goal (we have north of 500 Facebook friends now), so we expanded our effort by cross-posting all our updates to Twitter. We aim for three or four new updates or links everyday, to make sure we don’t disappear from people’s home pages. The effort does seem to be succeeding, as the activity on the page is significantly greater than any buzz I’ve ever managed to build or maintain on my own behalf.

The next step, which just kicked in earlier this week, was the formation of a blog for the same fictional character. We’re just beginning to get hits on it, and several people have already subscribed. At first, I’ve written blog posts that function as a teaser trailer of sorts for the book itself, introducing one of the novel’s central mysteries. As time goes on, we plan to tackle subjects and research that hint at possible sequels.

I have no idea whether these efforts will be successful in the long-run, but so far they seem to be exceeding our modest expectations. I have reason to be optimistic.

These are, of course, just a handful of ideas. There must be lots of others. What sorts of marketing efforts have other people tried? By all means, chime in and maybe we can do some brainstorming.

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You wrote a story and submitted it. Good for you! Pat on the back! It takes courage to not only write but to submit! But, your story wasn’t chosen? That makes me sad, especially after all that effort. So, how do you get your story through the first reading also known as the slush pile? It’s no great mystery. I’ve been a slush pile reader and have judged the Imaginative Fiction Writers Association (IFWA) short story contest and I’m here to share some of the common writing mistakes made by beginning writers.

Actions speak louder than words
There is the saying that actions speak louder than words. For the writer the saying should be reworded to: a character’s actions and reactions, based on his value system, are more revealing than a mere listing of movements and setting. Feelings, actions and reactions, what’s worth fighting for, our successes and failures in that fight and how they affect us – those are the things which move your reader and create your story.

Damn, I hate lectures …
Information dumps are bad any time – back story, setting, telling me what the character is thinking. When I hear the ‘professor’ lecturing me on what it’s like in space when I want to know how the character will solve a problem, I’m gone ……. and please, stay away from omniscient musings on the human condition!

The sleep inducing setting
Starting a story with a list of items the character sees isn’t exciting. Not even in real life do we note all the details in a room when we enter it. But we do notice things which affect how we feel or cause us to react like a dead body on the floor or the missing captain and the view screen showing the planet’s surface growing larger.

Setting not only sets the time and place for your story but more importantly is used to stimulate the senses; to evoke a feeling for the situation and to provide a context in which your character will react. Yes, some novels start with awesome descriptions of setting. So what makes that work? Setting is used as a character – it evokes a feeling. It’s no mistake that in Twilight, for example, the climate is cold, rainy and generally depressing. Similar, is it not, to how Belle feels about herself?

Writing in first person
Many a good idea was killed by this Point of View. Writing in first person doesn’t mean it’s a free license to explore your grey cells to produce copious ponderings. Writing in first person is difficult because there is only one point of view through which to reveal a world, create drama and to incorporate a story line which is interesting. It can be done. The trick is not to tell, but to show the person actively assessing and responding to his situation. Through his eyes and actions, he must reveal information about the people he interacts with, his surroundings and how he feels. First person can be a great way to get deeply into someone’s psyche, the trick is not to get bogged down in the thinking process. All the rules for a good story arc still apply.

Stories need to be dynamic
Whether they’re dynamic emotionally or action oriented, I don’t care. Have some tension, carry it through to the climax and ending. Actions need reaction. Reactions produce more actions. Show, don’t tell. Don’t list events, or actions, or use empty words like ‘pondered ‘which evoke nothing except that the writer didn’t really know how the character felt or how he should react. A story needs a plot and increasing tension with a climax. Writing a descriptive scene isn’t a story.

Proof reading and feedback
Truly, most of us cannot be a good judge of what we write, certainly not in the beginning of our careers. The act of writing is a solitary event insofar as we need to write our story. After that, it’s a collaborative process requiring feedback and revisions. Your manuscript is easily rejected because of poor grammar, spelling and punctuation, clunky dialogue or extensive monologues. Plot problems or character concerns such as inconsistency or believability are things proofreaders can catch.

Keep on writing!
Cheers!

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Worldcon took place in Reno just a few weeks ago. (I’m surprised I haven’t heard anything about it from the attendees. Drop us a note if you would.) Comic-Con San Diego was in July, Dragon*Con is this weekend, and World Fantasy Convention is next month. Those are some of the larger conventions.  There are other smaller conventions I’m fond of such as Life the Universe and Everything, Comic-Con Phoenix, and Conduit—from which I have fond memories of being soundly beaten in a game of Magic: The Gathering by Brandon Sanderson.  Then, there are the local conventions: Leprecon, Coppercon, and TusCon to name a few in Arizona. Add to those, the writing conferences and workshops available all over the country: Southwest Writers Conference, Superstars Writing Seminars, Dave Wolverton’s many wonderful workshops, Clarion and Clarion West, and the list goes on and on. I could easily have named dozens upon dozens and, for one reason or another, they’re all good!

So how do we choose? We want to go to the bigger ones for the chance to hear from and associate with well-known authors, agents, editors, publishers and the numerous fans. I attended World Fantasy Convention two years ago and found a critique partner, met and received advice from a top-notch agent, gained a mentor, witnessed bad and good pitches by aspiring authors, listened to some great panels, and made wonderful friends. If you can possibly afford to go to one of these, do it!

Okay, so if we’re meeting the big wigs at the big conferences, why go to the small ones? At LepreCon last May I met and chatted with one of the major editors of my favorite publishing house. Did I pitch? No. Did she show interest in my work? No. But when I get an agent, I can meet this editor again and have a basis for future conversation. Even if you’re self-publishing, this is where you’ll find your local fan base. It’s a great opportunity to connect with like-minded individuals from your own area.

Workshops and Conferences. I have to be honest, I’ve never been to a writing conference, but I’ve heard they’re wonderful. One of my dear friends and a well-published author found her agent at a conference. And there are oodles of classes to choose from that  focus exclusively on craft. A workshop is similar, sometimes more expensive, but often more one on one. I’ve made some of my best writing friends, many of whom are on this blog, from writers seminars and conferences. These are the fellow writers that will root for you, be beta readers for you, and motivate you. Every workshop I’ve attended has not only been worth the money for the workshop, it’s been priceless for the friendships made.

If so many of them are worthwhile, how to  decide? I don’t know about you, but I can’t afford them all… in money or time. So I try to use the rules of socialization I learned as a child; be inclusive and take turns. So, a big con, a favored con, some small cons and a workshop. Too much? Yes. It’s what I attempt, but it isn’t what I achieve.

I look at what I’ve attended, what I want to attend, what has worked best, and what I haven’t tried yet. Then I figure out how much I can spend and choose what I can manage next.  I try to take into consideration the time I won’t be writing, and the distance I have to travel. But I always work toward attending something, because sitting around and writing is only part of the equation. We have to get out and connect with people. After all, isn’t that what writing is really about, people? We may be reclusive hermits, but we write stories that connect with humanity. So get out there and Con.

I mean that in the positive sense, not in any way connected to criminal activity.

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Today I want to talk about story pacing.

I’m currently reading one of those books that’s really gotten into my head and I’ve been thinking about why.  The book is Princeps Fury, book 5 of the Jim Butcher’s Codex Alera epic fantasy series.  I’m really enjoying the book and the series, although I need to finish it soon so I can get it out of my head and focus on my own writing.

Two things in particular have jumped out at me while reading this book.  First, it is a big fat epic fantasy, and yet it is paced more like a military thriller:  fast, unrelenting, with constant twists and escalations.  Second, every scene drives the plot forward, escalating the conflict or twisting the plot.  There’s no downtime, no reprieves.

For me it works, even though it’s hard to maintain such a pace for such a long book.  For my wife, it doesn’t.  She prefers stories where there are breaks in the tension, where the action comes more in cycles than in one long, continuous sprint toward the end.  She needs the periodic emotional rest or she finds a story overwhelming.

Different readers have different preferences.  As authors we need to discover what pacing our story requires.  Then we need to deliver it.  Some readers will like it.  Some won’t.  But if the story isn’t paced properly, no one will.

In a thriller or a fast-action story a hard-hitting, constantly escalating pace is required or there’s not enough emotional tension for the author to achieve the sought after experience for the readers.  On the other hand, some stories have different objectives.  Some epic fantasies explore the milieu (the environment, culture, history, and customs of the worlds they’ve created).  That’s fine too.  Many readers love this type of story as long as it doesn’t get too bogged down by all the side-tracks.

The pacing needs to be appropriate or the story dies.  A common mistake that can derail the correct pacing is including the wrong scenes.  Imagine a story like the movie “Die Hard” where, in the middle of the action, the hero John McLane decides to take a hot bath and drink some tea.

Wouldn’t work.

That example’s a bit extreme, but new authors often fall into the trap of including scenes just because they’re the next sequential step in the character’s journey, even if they’re just filler material between the scenes that really matter.  Experienced authors have learned to recognize those filler scenes that do nothing in and of themselves to drive the plot forward in any meaningful way.  They learn to cut those scenes and move on to the next important action.

For authors who do a lot of exploratory writing to ‘find’ the story, this can be a greater challenge because the very nature of that exploratory writing will result in scenes that are useful to the author but not to the finished work.  In subsequent drafts as the author is paring the story down to its core plot line, those scenes must be removed or they will drag a story down and ruin it.

I’ve learned this the hard way.  In the early drafts of one novel I wrote I included several entire chapters that, although interesting and well written, did next to nothing to drive the plot forward.  It was hard to recognize that they had to go because in a slightly different story they would have been perfectly appropriate.

Just not in the story they happened to be in.

I had to learn to ask the question:  “If I remove this entire scene, will the reader even notice?”  The answer was “No”.  I cut the scenes and no one blinked an eye.

On the other hand, in the same novel, I got a little carried away with trimming the fat and cut an entire POV and all of its related scenes.  Beta readers didn’t know what was missing but they sensed that something was lacking in the story.  I put the scenes back and readers confirmed it filled the gap.

It can be a tricky process, but it is vital.  We as authors need to make sure we understand what emotional journey our readers will be taking as they follow our characters through the torturous adventures we throw them into.  Extraneous scenes need to go.  Scenes that do not deliver the correct tension, pacing, or emotional beat have to go or have to be corrected.

What techniques have you developed for identifying scenes to chop?

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Character: Myself
Goal: To finish my damned book
Motivation: The story needs to be told
Present circumstances: Mundane life
Back story: Wrote some nonfiction. Thought I’d try my hand at fiction.

Questions:
Will gangsters kill me if I don’t finish my first draft? No.
Will the balance of political power be affected if I don’t finish my book? No.
Will the world as we know it be forever changed if I don’t finish the book? Probably not.

I keep falling off the wagon.

This is because of an insidious form of procrastination – reading how-to-write books.

When I first took up fiction a few years ago it seemed like the thing to do. “What can you recommend on how-to-write books?”

But now it’s become a full blown vice.

More than one how-to-write book has told me I need to write at least a page a day. They say I’ll have a book at the end of a year.

Some of these same books have said I need to read a hundred books in my genre before I’m qualified to write in it. I don’t know how many I’ve read, and that nagging insecurity I feel must mean I should read some more.

But maybe I can make up the difference by reading “how-to” books.

Sometimes the only down time I have is commuting. So I try to tell myself that learning a bit more about craft and structure is a productive use of time, and my Kindle tells me how to develop deep, sympathetic characters that we care about – in its endearing robotic female text-to-speech voice.

I want to write! I’ve tried all the advice about carrying a mini-recorder and putting my notes in it! But I never get around to transcribing them, they are full of hems and haws and I only really get work done when I sit down at the keyboard.

I created a separate account on my computer so I can log out of my “work” self and have an an e-mail free environment where I only write. Kind of like how you have to move the boa from one aquarium to another before you feed it, so it doesn’t think the main cage is for food.

But there’s still a web browser. No writing gets done. I bite my hand anyway.

By now, what do I need to learn? I know I need a strong narrative drive! I know that my characters need a back story but that I shouldn’t include it! I know that the three act structure is both outdated and irrelevant yet critical for a book!

I know too well that I have to create strong sympathetic characters, and if they’re morally ambiguous, a great way to do this is to give them a dog or a wife or something that makes us care.

Heck, by now doesn’t everyone know that events in the story should flow organically from the motivations our characters have? Isn’t it obvious that characters become two dimensional when they are slaves to plot?

Of course dialogue is supposed to be a compressed form of high-quality speech, what that character’s best self could say. I wish I actually had enough dialog written so that I could read it out loud to myself and see if it flows!

I have many examples of the genre beats that my story might want to hit.

Don’t even get me started on the 10-plus hours of lectures that I have been listening to and re-listening to from a recent writing conference. I’m thankful I didn’t get all three days of lectures and only took home what I could capture with my two mini recorders.

I don’t want to hear another word about 1st 2nd and 3rd person, and the different ways writers try to explain the intimate and remote 3rd person. I am fed up with admonitions not to try 1st person contrasted with encouragements to do it. I don’t care if I don’t have a good reason to use 1st person! How about “I’m writing a book” – is that good enough?

I even know that all the rules don’t matter if you’re skilled enough, and that rules were meant to be broken.

(That said, I swear by all that is holy that the choice for me is adverb-free.)

What they’re all saying, the only advice I can’t seem to take, is to finish that first draft!

I guess better writers than I can revise yesterday’s notes to get in the groove for today. But for me, that’s two steps back with no steps forward.

I know how my story ends in great detail. I’ve already started it and written most of the first act. Really, the only thing sagging about my middle act is my persistence in writing it!

It’s pretty easy, really, right? Scenes are just vignettes of conflict. And my characters have goals they’d practically die for. They have such deep motivations! I mean, how else could it be? And all I have to do is write out a bunch of scenes and I have a book, right?

I’m going to try today, to turn over a new leaf, get back on the wagon, and get through this book.

Ok I have to generate the motivation myself. Somehow.

I’m imagining the situation. I have to write the book. There’s a loaded shotgun over the mantle. Did I put it there?

My future self is furious that we’re out of money and that I’m going to die penniless and obscure, because I never finished the book.

My future self takes Chekov’s gun and aims it at my head and says,

“Write. Now.”

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