Turning It Up To 11

What’s the highest setting on your conflict dial?    7?    8?    11?

Spinal Tap may have been a bunch of drugged out wankers but they had a point. There are times when it’s a moral imperative to turn it up to 11. And yet so many writers don’t. They’ll either leave the dial at whatever preset the assembly line monkey chose or they’ll turn it up to 8 thinking they’re being daring.

Perhaps they are. Perhaps they’re a delicate flower and 8 is further than they would normally dare to go. Good for them. Or perhaps 8 is exactly what the scene calls for. Some conflicts don’t need to be turned up to Abercrombie levels of violence. However that doesn’t mean authors can leave the dial alone.

Escalating a conflict doesn’t mean that characters have to pull out grenade launchers and start WWIII.  I’m never disappointed when they do but that’s a personal preference. Escalating the conflict could be as simple as turning up the dial on an argument from heated discussion to shouting match before finally dropping the bomb of “I can’t believe you said that!”. Yet so many new writers don’t. Why is that?

Besides the obvious answers of inexperience and and timidity, I think it’s because we, as a society, are afraid of conflict. In school, business, and society we’re encouraged to hold back that angry comment, don’t punch the rude jerk (even though they deserve it), and above all don’t lose your temper. Altercations should be avoided even if containing our fury gives us a perpetual twitch.

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 It’s so ingrained that we unconsciously hold back. Well, you know what? It’s okay to get angry.

Conflicts in a story are more than a source of action and tension. It gives characters a reason to grow, to act, and to learn. The more intense the situation, the harder they have to work to survive it. So when an author pulls their punches on the page, whether literally or metaphorically, they’re not just cheating the reader. They’re cheating the character.

Unfortunately it’s not a situation where there’s a clear cut solution or a standardized unit of measure. Some dials have to be turned further than others. But the important thing to remember is to ask yourself “Can I take this further and if so, would the story be better if I did?” If you don’t feel you can be an impartial judge then ask your beta readers what they think. Because if it can and does than by all means, turn that dial.

Returning to the Lake

downloadLast year, fans of lovely monstrosities, dark secrets and long-lost nightmares ventured to Fossil Lake, a place where things perhaps best left buried stirred in the sediment beneath the water in an Anthology of the Aberrant.

This year, horror fans who’ve faced the darkness and find themselves hungry for more can return to the Lake in Fossil Lake 2:  The Refossiling.

“Red Ochre,” my contribution to Fossil Lake 2, allowed me to address one of my greatest regrets about my story in the first Fossil Lake.  I wrote a previous Fictorians article *here* about the experience of writing “Mishipishu:  The Ghost Story of Penny Jaye Prufrock.”  Mishipishu was set at a summer camp for kids and, like the summer camps I went to at that age, I gave the lake and its legend names from Native American folklore.  But I remained cognisant of the fact that there’s something culturally appropriative about the way summer camps used Native names to suggest wildness and closeness to nature, and yet rarely had any Native staff, Native campers, or instruction on any aspects of Native culture beyond the shameless borrowing (stealing?) of names and ghost stories.

I used the Native names as a matter of authenticity – this is something summer camps did, and some still do.  But I felt a certain lingering regret for the way that Native American identity had been stripped away from these names.  Longtime readers may recall an article earlier this year where I talked about how changing the point of view character helped make my contribution to Fossil Lake 2 into a stronger story.  If you missed it, you can find it here.

“Red Ochre” has been my opportunity to tell a scary story through the eyes of a Native American character, Meesha.  Meesha is torn between her shaman uncle, urging her to learn more about her heritage and her people’s traditional beliefs, and her parents, who want to see her as a successful, respected member of the wider society.  Meesha wants to fit in with the other students at her school, but she recognizes that elements of both her own history and her people’s change how others view her.  She had hoped that a camping trip with her friend, Perry, could give her a much-needed vacation.

Unfortunately, Perry is more than he first seemed.  And so, too, are those legends her uncle swears are true.  Meesha finds herself caught in the riptide of history, and its current threatens to drag her away…deep down into the waters of Fossil Lake.

If you’d like to take another dip in the Lake, Fossil Lake 2:  The Refossiling is now available in Print and Kindle editions.

And if you’ve never been, the first Fossil Lake Anthology is still available, also in your choice of Print or Kindle.

So come on in.  What are you waiting for?

The water’s fine.

The Beast Inside

heart_beastIn many of my favorite novels, the heroes/heroines face battles, have adventures, and deal with creatures of supernatural ability in fantastical worlds.  In the very best of those, however, the greatest obstacle comes from within.

Many of us face challenges in our own lives. They tend to be more mundane than those we read about, but flat tires, layoffs, and leaky roofs are some of the difficulties we learn to face and overcome. Would it be more impressive, in real life, when someone overcomes a monster? Maybe. But I think that most of us recognize that our biggest challenges, and the ones that are hardest to master, come from failures we perceive inside ourselves: a nature that tends toward selfishness, gossip, insecurities…the list goes on. So, what truly brings out the hero in our heroes/heroines, and resonates most deeply with our readers, is when they master self, the thing many of us acknowledge as our greatest threat. How do we, as writers, help our characters to go through that inner hero’s journey?

First, we have to give them flaws and a good reason for those flaws. Before you write, ask  some questions about your character such as: What kind of childhood did he/she have? How did those events/people, circumstances shape his/her perspective? What flaws are inheritted and what flaws were created? What flaws could prevent my character from succeeding at one of his/her goals? What has to happen in order for him/her to face and overcome those flaws? In order to grow, a character must start with perceivable limitations.

Next, how do those flaws manifest themselves? Right to begin with, readers need to know how these faults get in the hero’s way, how big of a problem they are, whether our hero is aware of them, and how equipped he feels to handle them. An inner demon is as powerful, if not more powerful, of an enemy as monsters, warlords, or evil computers. Treat it as such, with the same try-fail cycles as the physical enemy, the same battles for dominance, and that glorious moment of defeat that allows our hero/heroine to reach their potential.

In the end, seeing our character as a better/more capable person is as gratifying as watching them win the day. Giving our characters something within themselves to overcome will give them depth, interest, and engaging conflict. Make it good, make them suffer, and watch your readers’ engage.

 

Colette Black lives in Arizona with her amazing family, two dogs, and a mischievous cat. Current publications include the Mankind’s Redemption series, The Black Side anthology, and an appearance in One Horn to Rule Them All: A Purple Unicorn Anthology. More info at: www.coletteblack.net

Keeping the Tension Ramped Up in Combat Scenes

A guest post by Doug Dandridge.

I mostly write military science fiction, and am writing military fantasy when not working on the next scifi novel.  Exodus: Empires at War is a series with very detailed and lengthy battle scenes told from multiple viewpoints.  I originally learned the main technique I used from reading the Dritzz DoUrden novels by R. A. Salvatore.  If you’re not familiar with these wonderful stories, they involve a Dark Elf who has turned his back on his evil people and now fights the darkness with his mighty companions.  There are very detailed battles in which maneuvers great and small are described, and often the companions find themselves fighting out of sight of each other.  Not only are their battles told from their viewpoints, but the point of view of their major enemies.  In my own battles, which can last for as many as eight chapters, you get the points of view of characters at different areas of the fight, on the different departments of the ships, even from both sides of the battle.  I even switch back and forth from battles going on simultaneously hundreds of light years apart.  Some people might find this a bit confusing, but my fans, military science fiction aficionados all, write rave reviews about the amount of detail.

I have seen writers who do their battle scenes from a single viewpoint, and they read like an endless description of the good guys fighting an unknown, a faceless enemy that could be anything.  They go on and on with description after description, interspersed with dialogue, until the writer has to get to the climax or totally lose his readers, in most cases much too soon.  I like to use a movie approach that switches back and forth and gives play to both sides.  For example, think of The Wrath of Khan.  First scene is Kirk watching the Reliant approach without establishing communications.  The scenes switch back and forth to Khan ordering shields raised, Spock telling Kirk; Khan ordering locking on phasers, Spock telling Kirk; Khan yelling fire.  Switch to the scene of phasers hitting the Enterprise, then a shot of the panic in engineering as everything goes to hell.  Then back up to the bridge.  The action comes in bursts from different points of view, including the omniscient one of the Reliant blasting the Enterprise.

Of course, Hollywood likes to show these kind of scenes in a manner that puts both combatants front and center, even if there are a whole bunch of them.  Witness the final two episodes of Deep Space Nine, where there were over a thousand ships, and the screen was crowded with them.  Something to do with wanting to awe the audience.  In my novels battles are fought at long range, beam weapons almost useless until units get within a light minute of each other.  Even at that range it takes time for a weapon to hit, and even ships two kilometers in length would appear tiny if on the same screen.  In a book, the screen is the mind, and as long as you can convince the reader of that immensity, they will see it.  But even here Hollywood gives an example when they want to.  The movie Midway showed the battle between American and Japanese carrier forces, a fight where the ships didn’t see each other, but launched aircraft to do the actual attack.  But with judicious switching of viewpoints they conveyed this type of fight perfectly.  And it’s much easier to do in a book.

Doing each chapter as a series of mini-scenes in this way makes almost every scene a cliff hanger.  Each installment ends with an unknown.  Missiles coming in, lasers burning through the hull and klaxons sounding, the characters on the edge of disaster.  The next scene does the same to someone else, on some other ship, then to the enemy, who is having problems of their own.  Interspersed are scenes of small victories, and, as the fight progresses, much larger ones.  After a sequence covering one part of the fight I like to change to a different area of the battle, maybe even a different star system, for the next.  In this way I move the reader through an epic battleground where they are carried from tension to tension, with some small resolutions along the way.

To me the worst way to resolve a battle is with a non-event.  I have read a lot of books where they build up to the fight, the training, the organization, the hopes and dreams of those involved.  And in the next scene, it’s all aftermath.  I feel ripped off by those stories.  People read books that promise action because they want to read about that action.  I provide that action.  The first book of my Exodus series, more of a Universe establishment tale, had limited action, maybe twenty to thirty percent, and that is the worst reviewed of the series.  After that, the action increases, until the later books have almost eighty percent action sequences.  Some people may think that too much, preferring more time for character development or background.  The thing is, I am working as a full time author by writing such, and success proves to me, at least, that the method works.

About Doug Dandridge: 11022903_860155284027899_98329783_n
Doug Dandridge is a Florida native, Army veteran and ex-professional college student who spent way too much time in the halls of academia. He has worked as a psychotherapist, drug counselor, and, most recently, for the Florida Department of Children and Families. An early reader of Heinlein, Howard, Moorcock and Asimov, he has always had a love for the fantastic in books ad movies. Doug started submitting science fiction and fantasy in 1997 and collected over four hundred rejection letters. In December of 2011 he put up his first self-publishing efforts online. Since then he had sold over 100,000 copies of his work, and has ranked in the top five on Amazon Space Opera and Military Science Fiction multiple times. He quit his day job in March 2013, and has since made a successful career as a self-published author.