In Part 1, I talked about why we write and why receiving a critique can be so difficult and in Part 2 we discussed what a critique is.

I’ve seen critiques gone bad – so bad that when the author tried to incorporate everyone’s suggestions, he ruined his own story and in another instance, the writer gave up writing for a while. Sometimes it’s hard to find the right group of people or even one person, who understands that observations and comments that help strengthen your work do not need to include wholesale shredding,

So, how to avoid a critique disaster?

What you can do to prepare yourself:

1) The most important thing for you, the author, to remember is that the critique helps you to switch hats – from the creative to the editorial. Remember that creative ALWAYS needs editorial and creative is usually scared to death of editorial. That is why some authors put their stories away for a while before embarking on the editorial journey – to give their creative sides time away from the work so that they can approach the revision and editing process more objectively.

2) Submit your best work and understand what type of critique you are looking for: a reader’s critique, a line by line critique or both? A reader’s critique is one in which the reader tells you what is working and what isn’t, where she was engaged and what threw her out of the story. The points listed at the end of this article can help guide the reader on what to look for.  A line by line critique happens when all the other elements of the story are working well and the manuscript is is reviewed for consistency in language, metaphors, grammar, excess wording, etc. Generally, good critiquers will not give you a line by line critique unless they know this is more than a first draft. They can tell that by how strongly your story holds together in terms of plot, consistency, style, character and setting. Only then will they focus on line-by-line edits to polish the story.

2) Understand that some people can’t help but shred, rewrite and go beyond what is asked for. Take what you need and leave the rest but for goodness sake, don’t take it personally! Have confidence in your work and move on. Know that you can’t and don’t have to use everyone’s suggestions.

3) Know you may disagree with someone’s comments but do not take issue or become defensive. Instead become curious as to why they made those comments. Was there a misunderstanding or misinterpretation of some sort? If so, the reason for the comments may need to be addressed. Sometimes a person’s comments may simply be wrong. They may offer bad or unwelcome suggestions or see problems where they don’t exist or miss existing problems. Ultimately, you must choose the feedback that works for you.

4) Understand who is critiquing. Not everyone may be familiar with the nuances of the genre you are writing in or the age level you are targeting and that may pose problems. Short story writers and novelists may have different views on pacing, description, speed of character or plot development. You need to understand the person who is responding to your work to give their comments appropriate context.

5) Above all, be respectful and gracious. This person took time from their other activities to help you.

What you can do to prepare others:

1) Tell them what stage this is in. First draft? Final draft needing polishing before submission? This should include information about the intended market such as Writers of the Future submission, YA novel, adult historical fantasy, etc.

2) Be clear about what you are looking for – first draft I always ask for a reader’s critique. What is working? What keeps you in the story? What isn’t working? What throws you out? Do the character’s actions ring true?

3) It’s good to tell others where you have concerns. For example, 1) I’ve rewritten the beginning several times and am not happy with it. What’s working or not working? Is this the right place to start the story? 2) Does the science make sense? Is the world I’ve created consistent and credible?

Here are some points used by writers and in critique groups that I belong to. Use them to help focus the questions you want answered, or if you’re looking at someone’s work, use them as guidelines of things to look for. Some will use this as a template, while others may only touch upon pertinent points.

General impressions: An overview of what worked and what didn’t; critiquer’s theory of theme, premise & plot summary; first impressions on title, emotional response, stumbles, questions and expectations; if the story is satisfying; and  how well does the title work?

Plot:
It the problem clearly stated?
Is there a full story arc?
Does the opening/hook work?
Is there rising action & a climax?
Is the resolution complete?
Did something change?
Are there plot holes?
Does each scene work?
Is there appropriate revelation throughout the story?

Consistency:
Are there places where suspension of disbelief fails?
Is the internal logic consistent?
Does the narrative flow with proper pacing, rhythm?
Is there sufficient conflict (of all types)?

Style:
Is the style of writing appropriate?
Is an appropriate narrative tone used?
Is dialogue stilted or otherwise out-of-place?
Is there a proper balance of narrative and dialogue?
Is there appropriate narrative tension?
Is Point of View consistent? The best choice or mix?
Is tense consistent?

Character:
Sufficiently developed & distinct?
Do they speak with distinct voices?
Do they change?
Do they have believable motivations & behaviors?
Are there too many characters?
Do they have appropriate names?
Do they have strengths & weaknesses?
Are the interesting?
Is at least one character sympathetic?

Setting:
Is it complete or full of holes?
If a character, is it fully developed?

Technique summary:
Are there technical problems? (its vs it’s?)

Remember that the purpose of the critique is to help us polish the gem of our story until it sparkles in its brilliance. So, keep your eye on the prize, have confidence in what you’re doing, revise, polish and above all, submit your work!

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We’re talking a lot about character this month, as well we should.  Great characters are critical components for great stories.  We need to understand our characters, their relationships, and then we need to reveal the truth about our characters with a deft hand, weaving in back story and inner demons.

It can prove a daunting process, and sometimes it’s hard to know how to approach working with our characters to maximize their effectiveness.  At times, it’s like looking at a hidden 3d image, like the one at the top of this article.  Can you see the hidden image?  It takes effort and practice to train your eye to see what’s right there.

Same with building great characters.

There are lots of opinions and articles and books on the subject, including this month’s Fictorians posts.  One resource I highly recommend is Orson Scott Card’s book Characters & Viewpoint.

Another, which I found extremely helpful, is Larry Brooks’ Three Dimensions of Character.  This is available as a standalone ebook, but is also incorporated in Larry’s best-selling book Story Engineering.

The brilliance of this approach is that it explains complex character building in a direct, understandable way that makes it accessible to every writer.  Larry provides a toolbox to assist authors in crafting great characters, and knowing what is required to do so.  He teaches, in essence, how to see the hidden image by removing some of the vague, mysterious elements from the process, which I found refreshing and extremely helpful.

I won’t explain the entire system.  This short article won’t do it justice, but I will review the core concepts to illustrate the power of it.

Characters have three distinct dimensions that authors need to understand and define, and which they can then apply for greatest effect.

Dimension 1:  Personality.  What a character looks like, their quirks, how they present themselves to the world.  This is all surface material, without any assigned meaning.  For minor characters, this may be all we ever see, and it’s left to the reader to assign any deeper meaning, if they choose.  For important characters, we cannot stop here without getting the dreaded “your characters are flat” reviews.

Dimension 2:  Back story and inner demons.  This is where things get interesting.  This is the why of a character’s choices.  This is where meaning is assigned, where they face their inner struggles, hide their deepest fears.  It’s the world view that motivates their actions, and it may or may not coincide with the face they choose to show the world.

Dimension 2 is where characters gain depth, it’s where the reader gains a glimpse into the why, and gives us a chance to build empathy with the character, which is absolutely crucial for our story success.

However, we’re not finished with Dimension 2.  Dimensions 1 and 2 are still what the character wants us to see, to understand.

Dimension 3 is where we get to the true heart of a character, their moral substance, or lack thereof.

Dimension 3 is what a character does in critical moments, moments of extreme stakes, moments that count.  This is where everything is stripped away and their true, inner core is revealed.

It may surprise us.  It may surprise them.  This is where a character really becomes a hero, or a villain.  It’s where they shine, or where they run away screaming.  This is where inner demons are excised, when a character arc is complete.  Only then is the hero ready to overcome the external antagonistic forces.

This is powerful stuff!  Too often advice about character lacks this level of clarity.  Larry goes on to expand upon this in his books, and I highly recommend you study his system, because it empowers authors to elevate character development to a much higher level.

To illustrate briefly:  Assume we have a character, a middle-aged school teacher who works with first graders.  Never married, but beloved by her children.  All first dimension stuff.  Then, let’s give the readers a glimpse into her past.  Maybe she went into teaching because a younger sibling died and she always felt guilty for not protecting that child, and has dedicated her life to teaching to help excise that guilt.  Second dimension back-story and inner demon.  She’s an easy character to empathize with.

Then let’s set the school on fire.  Children are in danger.  What will she do?

Well, that’s the question, and the moment that will make the story.  Will she rush into a burning room to save children, perhaps by making the ultimate sacrifice, and therefore justify her life’s work?  Or will she break down and ignore everyone around her, perhaps letting children suffer because she’s unable to break out of the prison of her memories?  Or does she do something totally different?  It’s not until that moment of crisis that her true character is revealed.

In my next post, I’ll explore examples of great complex characters, and lessons we can learn from them.

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So, you’ve done the deep psychological analysis, built the world, have a broad outline, now what? How do you place your character into the story and make it believable? How do you keep the protagonist’s story on track? How do you keep character interactions interesting, genuine and moving the story along?

In complex novels, I use charts to help me along, to keep information organized and to consider the deeper questions of values and motivation for each significant character. In every instance, I refer to the major points from the story arc because that’s when those critical moments of change, realization, action and reaction happen. This system keeps me from straying from core values during interactions. What happens in those moments when characters surprise me and go in a totally different direction for reasons of their own? As long as the character is true to their core (usually is), I embrace the change and make adjustments accordingly.

Relationship Arc Chart– Protagonist and a Key Character

	Disasters (faced by the protagonist)	Protagonist (reaction to the disaster)	Pam (reaction to the protagonist)
Act 1	Attackers at warehouse	Is dumbfounded by the attack and then decides he must figure out who did it. Is afraid because goods were damaged, he didn’t finish his work and is late to see his father	Likes him a lot but doesn’t always trust her feelings for him  – is hot and cold toward him- her father warns her away. Not sure if he’s a victim or incompetent.
	Overhears conspirators re father and power & sees someone run away	Suspicious of everyone except his friend and Pam. Urgency to do something before it’s too late.	Wonders if he’s making things up  – see this in her body language and cautious language
	Discovers father is dead	Is devastated, angry and feels he failed his father. Resolves to solve murder.	Has deep compassion for him but is afraid of his anger and feels helpless to help him.

It’s also important to be aware of the impact of a significant event on all major characters. For example, the death of a central figure has a huge impact on the protagonist and other characters. We really see this, and expect it, in mystery writing yet reactions need to be thought out just as clearly in any genre. How does each person feel about the death? What opportunities or misfortunes do they see as a result? How every character reacts to the death and to those around them must be consistent with personal motives and values.

 Relationship Arc Chart– Reaction to a Major Event

Person	Rxn to Felix’s death	Rxn to Joey (protagonist)
Sally (wife)	There is the customary wailing etc but with an unusual sparkle in her eye. After, she appears to be even more crazy and delusional as she insists he isn’t really dead	She wants him to remain loyal to his father – to obey his father as if he’s still alive rather than becoming his own person
Shosha(high priestess)	Relieved. Now Felix won’t be a threat to the people or to her plans. Knows she must appear to be saddened by the death.	Sees Felix’s death as an opportunity to bend Joey to her will. Believes he is the key to restoring balance and making the island safe but he must follow her.
Talar(head of a guild)	Relieved and upset. Felix was a master at his craft and did before his son learned all the skills. He was crucial to island trade. Never liked or trusted him. Has a lifelong grudge about something.	Unsure if Joey can do his father’s job yet he is the last master of his trade. Believes the son is/will be like his father (unstable,  and self-serving) and wants to protect his daughter  from him.

There are two seldom spoken about things writers need to be aware of to keep interactions genuine. I don’t chart these but I do short write ups on each to make sure I understand them from my characters’ points of view.

Male and Female Perspectives

Yes, males and females see and express things slightly differently. And no, it’s not all stereotypical black and white behaviour either so please don’t take my comments as such. However, it’s folly not to consider the language, approach to situations and socialization of the sexes when writing characters or in understanding target market appeal. That’s why there are so many books on relationships (the Mars and Venus stuff) because it is important. It’s not about equality issues or discrimination. It’s simply that as women and men we are biologically different and we see the world a little differently. Those differences need to be understood and embraced. We can do the same jobs but our approach and communication may be different.

Women may be more prone to focus on emotions and relationships while men are more concerned about process such as fixing something or winning the race. Use this to create confusion and tension as characters speak at cross purposes on an issue. Mix it up to make interactions more interesting. Change the socialization norms. That’s what happened when television, books and movies first created female detectives and lawyers – interactions between the sexes was awkward and rife with tension. It still is and it makes for compelling viewing and reading. Being aware of the differences gives writers more ammunition to mix it up and make interactions more dynamic, less boring and less stereotypical.

Life stages

So how do people react to Joey – as a late teen, and with his father’s death, his mother Sally doesn’t want him to leave the household to become his own man. He’s now expected to fill his father’s shoes, stay in the family business and look after her. Although he knows he must do this, Joey’s interactions with his mother will be charged as he struggles for his own identity and sense of self. If Joey had been married and with a maturing family of his own, his position in society and his skill wouldn’t be questioned and therefore his interactions with his mother would be quite different like charged but now able to assert himself and demand what he wants, respectful or entirely dismissive.

Writing for teens (YA) is different than writing for adults or middle grade. It’s deeper than point of view – it’s about issues, maturity, ability to express, comfort with expression and experience. An adult who has been burned in a relationship as a teenager will have a very different approach to a date than a teen on a first date. That seems obvious, but as an adult writing for teens, I must be very careful not to insinuate my adult knowledge, observations and experience on my characters otherwise their interactions won’t ring true for my readers. The same holds true whenever we write about something apart from our own soci-economic strata.

These are just a few of the tools I use to keep character interactions interesting. What works for you?

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We can build worlds, create interesting characters, have background information and personality/motivational analysis that fills a book. After studying how to create characters, how to make them interesting, unique and multidimensional, we must somehow bring them to life and make them as real to the reader as a living, breathing human being. Yet how can this be done?

It’s all about relationships. Characters come alive when we see them in relationship. Their interactions (actions and reactions) reveal their innermost secrets, their fears, their world view, their values. Just like us, they act and react to those around them – life is not lived in a vacuum. That’s why the background work and world building are so important. What is the society’s prevailing code of ethics or conduct? Where does the character live – the social and survival norms are different from a crowded city in first world or third world economies, rural or urban settings, earth, Mars or a fantasy world. This determines what is important to the character – what she values or abhors.

We interact with and react to our families, our pets, our loves, those we loathe, those we casually know and those we don’t even know but have a strong reaction to. A strong reaction to strangers? Think about it. Do you slam the phone on the telemarketer or do you make friends with that person? Do you disregard or mock political propaganda from the party you don’t support or do you take the time to befriend a supporter and understand their views? In both examples, the interaction with strangers is at different ends of the spectrum – from blatant disregard to embracing their humanity. Most of us are somewhere in between. The way we choose to interact with people in these situations is determined by what we value, what motivates us and what issues are pressing in on us. Knowing where your character lies on the value spectrum will make it easier to write believable character interactions. Is your character determined or unsure? Have faith in life or believe it can’t be trusted? Accept or reject change?

For example, in a self-help book on relationships (those are gold mines for writers!) titled Love is a Many Splintered Thing by Patricia H. Rushford, we follow Samantha and David as they journey from the honey moon stage to near divorce. The fight scenes, simply done for illustrative purposes, are quite compelling. In one scene, we learn that David has manipulated Samantha’s computer dating data sheet so that their scores will jive. Samantha is so furious that she wants nothing to do with David. David is hurt and upset. He had fallen in love with her the moment he saw her and didn’t want to trust a machine with the rest of his life.

So, why did Samantha have such a strong reaction to David’s action and why did he manipulate the data? The answers lie in their backgrounds, in those deep dark corners that are so easy to ignore yet which compel us to act as we do. As Rushford explains: David is a man’s man, always in control and is uncomfortable with the feelings Sam has awakened in him. He has tried to be the kind of man he thought his father (now dead) would have wanted him to be but David feels he has never quite succeeded. Now once again, in his relationship with Sam, he hasn’t quite succeeded. Samantha, on the other hand, comes from a childhood of abuse and neglect and so resists love for fear of abandonment. At times her emotional needs exceed her ability to reason.

Understanding fears and aspirations this deeply means a writer can stay true to the core of who their characters are. That then makes their actions and reactions more consistent and true to their nature as they interact with other characters. What about dialogue and body language? Both are important and once again, are part of knowing your character well. Is her language terse? Can he say what he means? She talks of feelings while he refers to car manuals. Is her manner aloof, open or frustratingly neutral? Is there a combination of warmth and cold, efficiency and aloof caring, that is both appealing and frustrating? How does each character react to how the other speaks let alone to what he or she says? Thinking through those dynamics creates most interesting interactions.

There is one major stumbling block to writing genuine character interactions. That is unconsciously slipping into your own value system and not remaining true to your character. That’s when characters and scenes become one dimensional. Personally, I hate conflict. I prefer to be the peacemaker. Knowing that about myself gives me the awareness I need to let my characters be themselves in all their gore and glory. The best writing advice I ever received was permission to be cruel, to ramp up the stakes, to let my characters sweat, squirm and yes, fight.

By knowing our characters intimately, from their deepest darkest fears to their speech patterns, we can totally abandon ourselves to the muse and write compelling, memorable scenes that will whisk our readers into our characters’ worlds.  Ah, yes, the elusive muse – that’s the moment when we know our characters so well that on paper, we become them and we give genuine voice to them and to those they interact with.

What things have you learned to bring your characters to life and to make their interactions genuine?

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Okay, before you can go to the conventions and use your elevator pitch like we talked about last month, you have to write the story. This month we’re going to focus on the craft aspect of writing. Because it’s February, and for some reason this month bring about images of mostly naked babies holding bows. we’re going to focus on relationships. Don’t groan – we aren’t going to spend the entire month talking romance, although it will be a topic this month.

Think about the stories you love. What made you love it? Not the plot. Not even the special effects. It’s the characters and their journey that takes a story from like to love.  Some of the all time most loved stories include Gone With The Wind, The Wizard of Oz, Charlotte’s Web, and To Kill a Mockingbird. Action adventure movies can be loved, but it seems to me that only happens when there’s something extraordinary about the character dynamics.  Well loved stories, regardless of genre, all have one thing in common – characters that stay with us long after we close the book.

I’m going to use one of my favorite books – The Last Unicorn by Peter S. Beagle – as an example of what I mean. Each of the characters, even the unicorn, is flawed. Schmendrick the Magician (and I didn’t have to look up how to spell his name even though my spelling is atrocious) can’t actually work magic. He’s the incompetent fool, the disappointment and the failure. He can’t touch the unicorn. He joins her quest to benefit himself, not because it’s the right thing to do. Yet, he still finds the strength to get up each morning and try to be a true magician. Molly Grue lives with bandits. She’s brash and a bit crude. Yet, her heart is pure enough to see a unicorn. King Haggard has everything, but can’t feel joy or love. The unicorn is immortal, but she doesn’t know love or regret. A misfired (or not) spell robs her of her immortality. Over the course of the story all four of these character (and Prince Lir) confront who they are.  All are searching for something more than themselves. All but one changes.

Why is this one of my favorite books? Because of the depth and beauty of the characters and their interactions. Peter S. Beagle’s A Fine and Private Place is also on my most favored books list for the same reason. I wanted the good guys to win. I wanted the bad guy to get his comeuppance.

How did Peter Beagle and all those other writers create such memorable characters?

Well, that’s what we’re talking about this month.

This month we’ll look at creating a complete characters, the “good” bad guy, and believable character interactions. We’ll spend some time on Romance in deference to St. Valentine’s holiday. But also platonic relationships between the characters and conflict in general. Please check out posts over the month, and remember it’s not too late to get that box of chocolates.

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Did you every have one of those stories that you know “missed it by that much”? I did. While there were some obvious fixes I knew I needed (like beefing up my descriptions), there was a fundamental flaw in the story that I couldn’t get my hands around. The story was sick and needed help. So, I took my baby to a professional.

Let me back up for a second, the story I’m talking about is my trunk novel. I’ve been picking at it for far too long. The first draft was well over 300,000 words. I know. I know. So, I broke it into three books. The problem was that the first book’s story arc was high on the Character quotient of Orson Scott Card’s MICE scale. For those who don’t know, I’m going to vastly oversimplify this. Card broke stories down to four archetypes – Milieu (setting), Issue, Character, and Event.  A character story is mostly concerned with the character’s internal journey. So, the book ended when my main character transitioned from spoiled, self-centered twit to taking responsibility for the greater community, and before the promised big battle.  A lot of the comments I received was that “nothing happened” in the story. So, books one and two became book 1. But I still had what I called a “pacing” problem. I didn’t know how to fix it. Hence, the trip to the book doctor.

The book doctor of choice and the stated course of therapy? David Farland’s Novel Rewriting Seminar. Dave is a New York Times Bestselling writer who has been translated into many languages and trained a number of #1 New York Times bestsellers, like Brandon Mull, Brandon Sanderson, and Stephenie Meyer.  His latest novel, NIGHTINGALE, has won eight awards. So, the ability to hear him speak, much less take a class from him, is an amazing opportunity.

This seminar focuses on editing. In order to attend, you have to submit a sample to Dave and be accepted. You’re committing to a lot of homework, both before and during the workshop. We had a reading list which ensured all participants were starting with the same base knowledge.

All participants send in the first 100 pages and a synopsis of their stories. Part of the pre-seminar homework is to read the first 20 pages and synopsis of the other workshop stories. Getting to read and critique other stories, when you do so honestly, is a learning experience. What do I mean by “critiquing honestly”? I mean not cutting down a story just to cut it down. Your plan should always be to help the writer improve the story. realizing that your comments are just your opinion and you’re not any smarter or better than any other writer. Use critiquing as a way to help someone, but also as a means of seeing what you are doing that might be hurting your own writing.

The work doesn’t end when you get to the workshop. This isn’t a seminar where you can sit back and zone out. Each day, we went over two or more of the workshop stories, discussed story structure and elements, and were given homework that applied the topics discussed. We each left with 10 other perspectives on our story. Another fabulous excercise we did was disecting the story-telling elements in The Hunger Games movie. Many of the workshop participants would go out to lunch or dinner together. We built a community there.

Each participant meets with Dave to go over his comments on the first 100 pages of your novel. I have to say the time spent with Dave was worth far more than the price of admission. Not only is he a genuinely wonderful person, but he has so much insight and experience over the entire entertainment industry. I could have spent hours talking to him about everything from game design to movie making to publishing, and barely dipped my toes in the well of information and experience that he has.  Dave pointed out some of the things I knew needed work – my descriptions of places and people were thin. But he also articulated the bigger problem I was having, and a way to address it.

What was the best thing about the workshop? That’s a hard question. The people I met there are wonderful. The knowledge I gained was invaluable. But, I have to say the best thing about the workshop was leaving knowing what I had to do, and that I could accomplish it.

Dave has a workshop for whereever you are in your writing career. He has a host of new writing classes scheduled for 2013 available at www.davidfarland.com/writing workshops.  These range from his new Short Fiction Master’s Class, to his Million-Dollar Outlines, Novel Revision class, and Fiction Mastery Class. While there is some overlap between the seminars, each focuses on a different aspect of the craft of writing. I can’t wait to attend some of the other ones.

As if the workshops weren’t  cool enough, if you go to to any of his workshops and mention that “I heard about it through the Fictorians,” Dave will buy you a free dinner with him (if time allows), or he’ll give you $20.

If you have the choice between dinner with Dave or $20, take the dinner. Every time.

So please check out his workshops here.

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The last post of 2012. Oh, the pressure!

This makes me think of endings… and beginnings. These ideas fortuitously play into the topic at hand – when should a writer abandon a scene/plot/character/work that just isn’t working rather than rewriting for the fiftieth time?

My story, A Guardian’s Destiny, was a work in process for sixteen months, give or take.  I wrote, rewrote, edited, revised, rewrote and on and on for what was longer than was good for me or it. I was halfway through rewrites that added a major character when I couldn’t take it any more.  I knew it needed fixed, but  I couldn’t figure out what the fix might be.  Frustration didn’t begin to cover how I felt.  When I stepped back and looked at it with some small measure of objectivity, I could see it had “Edit Face.”  Not pretty. So, I put it in a virtual drawer and began something else.

When do you make that call?  End one thing, begin another?

That is a personal decision, but here are some things to consider.

• Time – How long have you worked on your scene/plot/character/work?  Think about Return on Investment or Lost Opportunity Costs.  Yes, we want our writing to be its best, but it will never be perfect and we need to recognize the tipping point where we have gone beyond productive effort.  If you could have written a multitude of other scenes/plots/characters/works in the time you’ve spent on this particular one, then maybe it’s time to let it go and move on.
• Sanity – Is it making you crazy?  My story was.  That’s not constructive and it’s stressful.
• Distance – Sometimes, it isn’t that you need to completely abandon your scene/plot/character/work, it’s that you need some distance from it.  Your muse may need time to gel. Time to work out exactly what the problem is and how to fix it.  It may be weeks, months, years or never.  You just never know.
• Perspective – It’s just a story.  We’re not curing cancer. Don’t marry your scene/plot/character/work.  You need to have some perspective.  Sometimes, things just aren’t working and you need to stop.  If it helps, save all the drafts or put any deleted text into a different document.  Then it isn’t really gone, just not where it isn’t working.

A Guardian’s Destiny has been tucked away for six to ten months.  My critique partner asked to read it anyway despite my protestations that it seemed hopeless.  After all this time and with her help, I think it may be time to take it back out and finish it. With a second set of eyes and ideas, it may yet be salvageable, but I know now that if it isn’t complete in a reasonable amount of time (not months on end), then back in the drawer it goes.

Here are some sayings that I keep in mind to help me.

A certain amount of opposition is a great help to man.  Kites rise against, not with, the wind……  John Neal

It’s only a book.  If nothing is happening – hit delete and start over. …..  I don’t remember where I heard this, sorry.

When your moment of truth comes, remind yourself: They told me it would be hard. This is what hard feels like. I can do this. …..  Rachelle Gardner, Literary Agent

What do y’all think?  I’d love more great quotes and/or tales of death, birth and maybe rebirth of your scene/plot/character/work.

 

 

 

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Guest Post by Dan Wells

Congratulations! You finished NaNoWriMo this year–a 50,000-word novel in just one month. Maybe it’s a full story, or maybe it’s just a beginning; maybe you printed out the little diploma and hung it on your wall, or maybe you didn’t even finish. Maybe you didn’t even do NaNoWriMo this year, but you have a book left over from last year, or a book that you wrote without any connection to NaNoWriMo at all. The point is, you wrote a book. Hooray! That’s a step most people never even make it to, and you’ve done it. Good for you.

Now it’s time to go back and make it better.

“Revision” is, for a lot of writers, a scary word. You may think I’m trying to give you a bunch of extra work. You may think I’m telling you that the book you wrote doesn’t count, and that you have to write the whole thing again. You may even think that the book you wrote is brilliant and doesn’t need to be revised at all. Rest assured that your book IS brilliant, and it DOES count, but that you need to revise it anyway. Revision is something that a lot of aspiring writers balk at, but experienced, professional writers never question. It is our very best friend, and, quite frankly, one of the primary reasons we are professional writers. Revision is a magical process that will turn your finished book into an excellent book; it will take your brilliant story and refine it in a way that will help everyone recognize its brilliance. Think of the recipe for your favorite food: even if you have all the right ingredients, the dish won’t turn out like you want it unless you combine them in exactly the right way–and even if the flavor is perfect, the best chefs will spend just as much time on presentation and serving, making sure that every aspect of the meal is perfect.

Or, to make things easier, I can sum up that entire paragraph in one sentence: your first draft is for what you want to say, and your final draft is for how you want to say it.

The revision process starts with distance. Remove yourself from your writing for a while–a few days, a few weeks, a few months, whatever it takes to give yourself a fresh perspective when you come back to it later. Work on other projects, read other books, and cleanse your mental palate. If you have someone willing to read your work, give them the manuscript so you can get some outside feedback. The purpose of this step is to help yourself see the book for what it is, not for what you think it is. Inside your mind you have an idealized view of the story you wanted to tell–you know what emotions you wanted to create, what reactions you wanted to elicit in the reader, and which parts of the story would be exciting or romantic or scary or sad. While you were writing it, you saw it the way you wanted it to be. Other people–and yourself, with enough distance–don’t have that idealized view, and they’ll see your story for what it really is. When you give yourself distance and come back with fresh eyes, you can compare the story on the page to the story in your head and figure out which parts worked and which parts missed the mark. WARNING: most of it missed the mark. I can tell you that without even reading it, because that happens every time, and it happens with every author. The more you write, and the more you develop your skills, the better your first drafts will be, but even your very favorite writers write bad first drafts. They do it all the time. I do it myself. The trick is to not let it get you down–don’t get depressed, don’t give up, just use this as an opportunity to fix what’s wrong. Again, think of a chef: when she tastes her latest creation and realizes there’s not enough salt, she doesn’t close her restaurant and move away and never cook again, she adds more salt. You’re not here to agonize over your problems, you’re here to solve them.

Step two, of course, is to look really closely at the problems you found in step one, and figuring out exactly what’s causing them. To continue the metaphor, step one is where you taste the food and realize something’s wrong; step two is where you figure out that it’s wrong because it doesn’t have enough salt. Like all things, this comes with practice, but you can start that practice by asking the right questions. It’s not enough to say “this book is bad,” you have to ask yourself why it’s bad. Is it boring? Are the characters unlikable? Is it hard to understand? Maybe your helpful friend who read the book told you he couldn’t figure out why the characters were doing what they were doing. Your job, as the author, is to look at those characters and their actions with a discerning eye: do they have good reasons for what they’re doing? Do those reasons connect as logically to their actions as you thought they did when you wrote it? Are those reasons clear in your mind but never really presented well on the page? Say the book is boring: does the reader have good reasons to care about what’s happening? Does the reader like the characters enough to be invested in their problems? Does the reader have all the information they need to be ready for the climaxes and the cliffhangers and the big emotional payoffs? No matter what the larger problems might be, you can dig underneath and find the specific issues that are causing them.

Once you’ve identified specific issues, step three is to figure out how to solve them. Let’s look at character motivations again: your readers (and perhaps even yourself, if you’ve created enough distance from the manuscript) are confused about why the main character is doing what he’s doing, and you’ve determined that this is because his motivations are never properly explained. There are many, many, many ways to solve this, and you need to figure out which is the right one. Do you just add a few lines of inner monologue where he explains himself? Maybe several lines, scattered throughout the book, where he reaffirms his personal beliefs? Maybe you need a new scene–the bad guys do something that affects the main character personally, so he has a clear and visible reason for opposing them. Maybe you need to add a new character: a dependent who the bad guys can hurt, or a buddy that the main character can talk to, or a romantic interest that will give the main character something to fight for. Maybe your character’s motivations rely on some key piece of knowledge she didn’t have access to in the first draft: oops! Figure out how to give her that knowledge, maybe with a mentor/traveler/newscaster/whatever who can explain it to her, or a scene of investigation or accidental discovery where she can learn it for herself.

It all boils down to this: when you look at your book critically and identify its weaknesses, you can drill deep down into what’s causing those weaknesses and figure out exactly how to make your book better. Once you’ve cleaned up the storytelling, you can do the same thing with the writing: polishing it and refining it until it’s not just good, but great. Learn how to revise, and your writing will become better than you ever imagined.

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Have you ever had a great idea for a story that thrilled you with the possibilities, only to struggle to develop it into a fully realized manuscript?  You have that scene that burns so bright in your mind, but just can’t seem to expand it into a full novel, or that character you know as intimately as yourself, but lacks the right scenes to shine? Or, maybe you just finished a work and you’re searching for the next big idea, but aren’t sure where to start?

Whatever stage of your project you happen to find yourself struggling in, there’s a simple yet powerful tool you can always turns to for inspiration.

The “What if?” game.

This game casts you beyond all bounds, out into the realm of pure imagination. There are no limitations, no hesitation. No idea is too crazy, no disaster too terrifying that you cannot consider it. Don’t hold back when playing the “What if?” game. Ask yourself, “what’s the worst possible thing that could happen in this scene, or to this character?” and then explore the possible answers.

The results can be a little scary. We need to torture our heroes, but sometimes we cringe back from the awful reality of just how bad we can make things for them. Or we hesitate because if we follow the newly illuminated road our ideas have revealed, it’ll mean a lot of mental struggle to figure out how to guide the heroes through the new difficulties to their eventual triumph.

Don’t hold back.

These are exactly the moments to take a second look and ask “what if?” again. That new, twisted, crazy idea might just be what our story needs to drive it from mediocrity to excellence. It might require more work on our part, it might torture our characters until we cry out with them, it may challenge assumptions we’ve made.

It may be awesome.

Of course, it may kill our story too by taking it off a cliff. In that case, discard that idea, ask “what if?” again, and explore a different road.

Sometimes we play the “what if?” game in the middle of free-writing a scene, when we’re struck by a sudden burst of inspiration and type a few lines that veer the story off the expected course. Again, we need to explore it, consider it, and decide if it was a false start or an exciting new twist.

In one manuscript, I wrote a scene where one character’s powerful magical weapon, which was critical to the plot, unexpectedly fell into the sea and was lost. I hadn’t planned it, but while writing the scene, I realized this was the worst thing that could happen, and I wrote it. The resulting scene became more powerful by entire magnitudes, although it left me quite literally shaking from the shock. At first I wanted to delete it, to shy away from the disaster I’d revealed, but that would have weakened the story and been the easy way out. Eventually, I figured out how to deal with it, and the story proved the stronger for it.

Recently I played the “What if?” game with a friend to explore the deep back story of a current work in progress, and after traveling far afield, we came up with some wonderful ideas I never would have considered without casting myself out into the world of limitless possibilities opened through “What if?”. Those answers now tie in aspects of the plot that were hanging a bit loose, and the resulting whole is consistent and far more powerful.

What experiences have you had with the “What if?” game? If you’ve never tried it, what are you waiting for?

What if it revitalizes your story?

What if . . . ?

 

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It was breathtaking and I couldn’t stop reading it!

That’s the experience every reader wants and those are the words every writer wishes to hear. The adage that if your character is sleeping, so is your reader is all too true. So if your novel is stuck in the big swampy middle, so will your reader be and he may not have the fortitude to move on. So, how does one gracefully dance across the swamp without getting stuck? There are many books written on the topic but here are three things I’ve learned:

 

1) you have permission to make things difficult for your protagonist.

When a fellow writer made me aware that it was my duty to make things difficult for my protagonist – that I was supposed to be mean – writing got a whole lot easier and the middle became so much more fun! Disasters, unexpected problems, the fatal character flaw, the goal he so desperately wants is within reach yet is maddeningly elusive, twists and turns, the mentor dies, red herrings  … the list of trouble goes on.

Through the middle, there will be many mini-problems which escalate into bigger ones and culminate into the BIG middle disaster. The BIG middle disaster is the lynch pin of a problem that propels the protagonist into the third act where he rises to the challenge in the smashing climax. This disaster can happen anywhere from the mid-point to the end of the middle.

Most importantly, the protagonist complicates the situation, makes it more complex, worsens it and raises the stakes. How can your protagonist worsen the situation? By having a fatal flaw that he must overcome in order to achieve his goal such as shyness, insecurity, impulsiveness, greed, play-by-the-rules, or risk taker. Sometimes the character may experience success but that can have unintended consequences such as: the antagonist’s reaction; there’s a worse problem he wasn’t aware of; or a secondary character has a bad reaction to the achievement.

2) plan your BIG middle disaster and work toward it

The plan doesn’t have to be overly detailed. Even if you’re a pantster, it helps to know where the BIG middle disaster will occur and what it will be. This will keep you from being derailed, from writing scenes that don’t support the story goals and the final conflict. There’s still lots of room for pantster creativity in getting to the BIG middle disaster and moving beyond to the climax.

As you’re working toward the BIG middle disaster, as you’re ramping up the tension by increasing emotional, physical and psychological conflict, as your characters reactions and actions are met with resounding consequences and reactions, keep in mind the story telling technique you’re using. For example, is this primarily an action oriented, plot driven story? Are you using a mini-arc, a smaller story within a larger one which although connected, serves to reveal information about the characters? Are you following a sub-plot? Is there a new character to add an unexpected dimension to the tale? It’s too easy to get derailed and fall into the swamp if you’re not clear about which technique you’re using.

And it can never be overstated: increase conflict to increase tension to keep readers wanting to know what’ll happen next. For every event, there is a reaction with resounding consequences and more reactions and actions. This will make writing the story exciting for you and a white-knuckle read.

3) focus on the prize

You’ve got your beginning with the story problem clear in your mind. Your protagonist has faced an opening disaster that commits him to solving the problem. You know the prize, the novel’s ending. Now, you must focus on that prize with your protagonist to get him to the ending. At this point, it doesn’t matter if he succeeds and this is a happy ending, or if he fails and this is an unhappy ending or if this is a bittersweet ending with mixed results. What matters is keeping an eye on the goal, working toward the climax by making sure all events -setbacks, triumphs, actions and reactions – somehow contribute to the end result.

Subplots, side trips that reveal character only count if that incident or revelation shows us something significant about the character in relation to the story goal. Saving a cat may be important if it shows a compassionate, compulsive need to act which gets him into trouble later on. For example, it’s a laudable trait to get the cat out of the tree because grandma’s upset and her blood pressure is rising. But, when escaping from the bad guys, he stops running across rooftops because he sees a half starved cat that’s too scared to jump and the six year old kid is on the ground crying. You can imagine how his compassion may get him into more trouble. The rule is that everything you reveal or use must contribute to your character working toward the prize.

The middle is really the fun part of writing the novel. It’s where you can explore your character, exploit his weaknesses and strengths, and keep ramping up the excitement. There are times when I stop writing and ask my character: What do you see? or Oh, oh, what are you going to do now? Your character will answer those questions for you and stay true to the story goal if you’ve done your homework in your character profile, and if you keep your focus on the prize.

 

For me, the middle is an incredible adventure where the protagonist and I journey through murder, mayhem and have the time of our lives!

What works for you?

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You’re tired of writing the short story before you’ve even finished it. You’re 40,000 words into the novel and are falling asleep at the keyboard. You’ve worked hard on your world building, done the research done your character profiles and have the main elements of your plot chart, the writing should come easily but it doesn’t.

Don’t panic! The inability to write because your work doesn’t feel interesting at this moment doesn’t mean that you’re a bad writer. It means that you’re stuck and that you need to answer one simple question to get through this:

Are you bored or are you burned out?

Burn out happens when we’ve been at it too long – our brains need a rest from processing information and creating a work of art. Writing takes lots of energy – physical, creative and emotional.  That’s when you need to give yourself a break But sometimes when you’re feeling bored it’s   your brain’s way of telling you that information is missing.  I had that experience when I was doing the world building and background work for my new series. I had had so much fun world building and I wanted to write the novel so I could share it. No matter how hard I tried, it wouldn’t happen. Three times I started the beginning and each time I set it aside. It wasn’t fun anymore. I grew bored. So, I let it rest and when I reviewed my research, I realized that I hadn’t thought through a critical element. My brain, in the form of boredom and frustration, was telling me that I was missing something.

Sometimes I write three to ten pages of background material (important but boring stuff) because I need to get grounded in the setting and characters. Once I’ve done that, then the story begins. So, write, write and write some more. It’s not boredom per se that you’re experiencing, it’s simply that you’re going through the first step of needing to become part of that world, to unclutter your brain by getting information and relationships out of your head.

What happens when you’re genuinely bored with what you’re writing? When you’re sick of the plot and the characters? When it’s not exciting anymore and it feels like work and not fun?

Sometimes, it’s not fun and when that’s the case we need to simply write our way through it until it becomes fun. There may be technical reasons why this is so but many times those aren’t apparent until we’ve finished the novel and are revising it. So don’t stop writing. Write through the scene or section and get to the fun part!

Feeling bored may be the result of not getting to the interesting parts of the story. You’re missing mood, emotion, action and reaction because there’s too much inconsequential description, the reader isn’t an idiot and doesn’t need that level of detail, it reads like a technical manual, and yes, it’s simply boring writing! So in this case, the problem may not be with you but with what you’re writing.  Again, get it out of your system, then write the real story.

But what if you’re bored because you’re derailed and don’t even know it? Check your plot chart. Write out chapter summaries or summarize your scenes in point form. Ask yourself: where does the story begin and what is the disaster in the opening quarter that compels my charter to act? What is the story goal? What is the climax? What is happening to the protagonist between the middle and the end which makes it challenging for him to achieve his goals? It may be that somewhere in the swampy middle that you need to increase action and tension, up the stakes in order to make things dicier for your character and more exciting for yourself. This solution also works if you’re bored because your characters and plot feel boring.

Boredom may mean that you need a break. We get tired – it happens. Do something different for a bit: write a short story or a poem; paint the fence; go to a movie; bake something – give your brain a break and do something fun! Beware though that you aren’t using boredom as an excuse to procrastinate – that it’s an excuse to do the fun things and not write! If that’s the case, the surest way to quell boredom is by applying the BICFOK cure – Butt in Chair, Fingers on Keyboard.

Yawn! I’m not bored – I simply need a nap!

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This book is for you if:
You’re new at plotting and you don’t know where to begin;
You want a concise yet usable refresher course on plotting, character and world  building;
You’re revising your novel; and
Especially if you’re a pantster!

Writing Fiction for Dummies is all about making sure your novel has all the right components for success. As author Randy Ingermanson says in his opening notes in Snowflake Pro, a design program for novelists:

Good fiction doesn’t just happen, it is designed. You can do the design work before or after you write your novel. I’ve done it both ways and I’ve found that doing it first is quicker and leads to a better result for me. But you may find that doing your design after you write your novel works better for you. It doesn’t really matter when you do your design work, as long as you do it.

And this book covers all aspects of the writing from finding your target audience, to choosing your creative paradigm, using the principles of powerful plot, editing and getting published.  However, it’s not for dummies – it gives credit that the reader is intelligent by succinctly providing information and tips. I like that I don’t have to read an entire book on character or plot or revision and then have to distill the information I need.  Plus, the book has great examples to illustrate each point.

These authors are masters in taking you through the steps logically. For example, Part II: Creating Compelling Fiction takes you from building your story world, to creating compelling characters, plot layers and examining theme. Part III gives you the tools to edit and polish your work by analyzing characters, story and scene structure and then editing scenes for content.

Truly, I always thought I was a panster at heart until I realized that I was simply plotting and outlining in my head. Writing fiction for Dummies has given me the tools to put those points on paper. Now my plots are multi layered, my characters are deeper and I don’t have the headache from keeping all that information in my head! I still can’t write a detailed outline – it’s just not me. But, I’m a more organized pantster now who has lots more fun brainstorming the deeper ‘what if?’ scenarios.

I’ve started a new series and I can’t keep five books worth of information in my head. Chapter 8: Story Line and Three-Act Structure is my starting point for the basics and I brainstorm from there. I planned the big picture first – key points for the beginning, murky middle, climax and ending for each novel.  Now I have an idea of plot arc, character arcs, emotional arcs and where each story in the series needs to end. I still have lots of room for random creativity as my characters take me on unexpected turns in their journeys and I can let them do that with confidence because I know I have enough of a plan so that key story elements aren’t derailed. Most importantly, I know that if the novels grow in unexpected ways, I can revise the plan because as our characters evolve, so do we as writers and so must our plan.

Whether you’re writing your first or tenth novel, revising your draft or reviewing, Writing Fiction for Dummies is a resource every writer must have. It’s a quick reference guide filled with checklists and thought provoking questions on critical elements … and I can hardly wait for the revision process because now I know what I’m doing!

Happy writing and revising! It’s always a joy to create!

To learn more about authors Randy Ingermanson and Peter Economy, visit their sites at:
http://www.advancedfictionwriting.com/art/snowflake.php
http://www.petereconomy.com/Welcome.html

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One of the wonderful things about NaNoWriMo is it forces thousands of writers to get the writing party started. This raises the question of: Now what?

The answer is deceptively simple: FINISH  IT.

Okay, I can’t leave it at that. Simple answers just aren’t in my nature. Why? It’s because the simplest answers often hold the hardest truths, and most difficult objectives.

The goal of NaNoWriMo is to write 50,000 words in a month. Keep in mind that the goal isn’t 50,000 immediately publishable words. I’ll circle back to that point in a moment. Most adult-reader novels (and no, I’m not taking about those at the top of the rating system, but all books that fall outside the picture, children’s, and middle grade markets) these days are more than 50,000 words.   Young Adult novels use to fall into the 50-60,000 range, but with the breakaway success of the Harry Potter and Twilight franchises, Young Adult often exceeds this mark as well. Books in the fantasy genre tend to be on the  higher end of the word count spectrum. If you’re not Brandon Sanderson or George R.R. Martin, your likely word count is between 80,000 and 120,000 words.  Romance and Thrillers tend to ranger closer to the70- 80,000 word mark.  So, our task isn’t done when at the end of November we hit the magical 50,000 words. We can’t spell check and e-mail the partially-finished manuscript out to our top ten fantasy agents and expect them to rush to represent us. Seriously, don’t do this.

Tip #1 then is to write until done. Whether you need another 20,000 words or another 60,000 words, you must finish the story and type “THE END.” Having the privilege of typing that phrase a number of times, let me tell you it’s the best feeling. Revel in it for a day or two. By typing ”the end” you’ve done what most of the want-to-be writers never do. You’ve finished the story. Congratulations. It’s a huge accomplishment.

But, you’re not ready to hit send yet. RULE 1 – and unlike pirate “rules” you are not allowed to ignore this one - No story should go from the first time you type “the end” immediately into an agent’s or editor’s hands. The story isn’t ready, and worse, if you had a connection with that person, you might have wasted your ”big chance” on an inferior product. Hopefully, your first draft isn’t far off the mark, but everyone needs some editing before publication.

A very wise and funny lady once told me “give yourself permission to write a crappy first draft.” Thank you, Lisa Scottoline for that advice. The saying isn’t unique to Lisa, but she’s the first person I heard it from where it sank in. I mentioned above  very few people can write 50,000 publishable words on the first pass. I think outliners have an advantage over pantsers like me because the outliner already beta-tested, as it were, the story’s structure. For most of us, the hard work comes after we type “the end” and start the editing phase.

Tip #2 – Put the draft away.

We fall in love everytime we write. I love my characters, even the really horrible people, and their story by the time I type “the end.” I’ve spent months or years with them. Like any other parent, this unconditional love means I’m blind to the characters’ and story’s flaws.  I generally need at least a month before I can objectively look at a novel I’ve written before I can wade into the forest of words with a machette. Take at least a week. Longer if you can. The distance will grant you objectivity, and you’ll need that for the editing/ rewriting process.

Tip #3 – Outline the story.

Okay, this is where opinions will vary widely and you’ve going to need to experiment to find out what works for you. Tip 3 is where the editing process starts. Whether you are an outliner or a pantser, my recommendation is to outline your completed story to ensure you hit all the “beats” you need.  I’ve written about the Hollywood Formula of story telling here before and we just had a great review of Blake Snyder’s Save The Cat which uses this formula here so I won’t replow this ground.  Please check out those two posts because the outlining and story telling techniques set out in both are helpful in structuring a story or fixing one when it’s leaped the tracks.  If you use this method to dissect your story, the “what’s missing” to take this from fair, to publishable, to kick-butt runaway sucess become obvious which makes the editing process less painful.

Tip #4 – It’s okay to delete.

This tip is a version of Stephen King’s imfamous phrase, “kill your darlings.”

I had a professor who was also a playwright. He’d adapted a well known classic novel that hadn’t been previously adapted to the stage. One of the reasons, I think, this particular work of this very well known and revered writer hadn’t been adapted was the “novel” was originally published week-by-week in a newspaper. Sometimes the week’s episode fit into the overall story arc and sometimes it didn’t. The professor overlayed a plot line of the writer’s actual life with the story. The idea was brilliant. The first act’s execution suffered because the professor wouldn’t kill his, or the original writer’s “darlings.” The tech crew (of which I was one) spent the act-break telling the audience the one scene they needed to know from the first act, and  begging them to stay for the second act.  On a good night we only lost half the house at intermission. The second act was brilliant, beautiful and heart-breaking. The problem was almost no one saw it. Instead of listening to advice, killing the scenes which were neat but interrupted the story, and making the play a long one-act, the professor insisted on his version which kept all these odd-ball bits. Because he wouldn’t “kill his darings”, the professor killed the entire play.

If you have a bit you love and that’s the only reason you’re keeping it, use the cut and paste function. Cut it out of the current story. It’s a cancer that will infect the whole work. Paste it into a file named “darlings” or “neat bits” and save. At some point that darling will rise from its technological grave and be given new life in a story it belongs in. Have faith in yourself that you’ll find a home for it in some other work. If a bit isn’t advancing character and plot, it doesn’t belong in this story. Take it out.

Tip #5 Stop editing when it’s time.

People who advocate for limited editing have a valid point. You can edit a story to death. At some point, you have to say it’s as good as I can make it and let it go. Do you send it to agents and editors now? No.

Tip #6 When you’ve gotten it as good as you can, phone a friend.

Remember when I said writers are parents who are blind to their child’s faults? This is where that maxim comes into play again. You need a trusted reader or six. These people are new to your story and can see what you can’t. Whether you’ve had other readers in the editing process, this group’s purpose is to give you impressions (not line edits). This is the group I want to come back to me with emotional comments like “hu?” or “I cried here.” and not technical ones.  You want cheerleaders out of it. If you get people who finished only because they are your friends or, worse, get the DNF (“did not finish”) comment, you have a problem that needs to be corrected before you go past “Go” and collect your book advance.

Tip #7 Send it out.

A professional writer’s light at the end of the tunnel is publication. You can’t get published if your story languishes on your computer’s harddrive.   You must submit.  Do your research. Meet agents and editors. Send the story to the person it is a good fit for. Self-publish if that’s what you want to do. Then the waiting begins.

Tip #8- Start all over.

While you are waiting, guess what you need to do. Yup. That’s it. Write another story. Kismet happens, but you need to put yourself out there. Finish more stories. Give them wings and send them out to the world. Keep at it long enough and you’ll suceeed, whatever that term means to you.

For me,. suceess means writing another 2,500 words today. I best get started.

See you at:

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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We’re writers, so we write, right? Absolutely.

But that’s not all we do, and honestly the actual writing of a manuscript is far from the most time-intensive part of creating a novel. In fact, the writing of a viable manuscript is the culmination of a great deal of preparatory effort. We might spend months working on a story before we sit down to write that viable draft.

That final manuscript is like a beautifully crafted building we hope will stand firm for ages, so it must be built upon a firm foundation. Few people visit any architectural wonder just to say, “Wow, great foundation.” Most of us have eyes only for the finished product. Leave it to the architect to know all about the foundation.

Same principle with writing. A great foundation allows a manuscript to reach its full potential. Careful preparation allows a writer to pound out tremendous word count. For example, just yesterday I wrote about 13,000 words. During one writing retreat this year, I wrote 50,000 words in one week. And they were good words, not throw-away fluff.

So, can I write 10,000 words a day, every day of the year? Of course not. Those kind of word counts are not possible unless you’ve already got the foundation set. Much time is spent preparing for those burst of productivity. I’ve discussed those burst-writing times in detail in the past here.

What are some of those foundational items we as authors, the architects of our stories, need to understand? What are ways we can prepare for productivity?  The specifics of the list will vary depending on each writer’s style, but regardless of how we get there, we still need to end up with a firm foundation, or the story will fall.

Some common items that apply to just about everyone writing fiction include:

World building. What is our setting? Where is the story taking place? In what environment, what culture, what physical reality? Are characters human or animal or robot or jelly beans? Until we know these things, either written down or firm in our minds, we cannot begin a viable draft.

I write fantasy, and I generate copious notes about the world, the nations, cultures, religions, geography, climate, magic system, value systems, etc. Until it’s real for me, I cannot make it real for my readers.

Characters and conflict. There is no story until there is a conflict. For a conflict to exist and to matter, we need to have characters to torture. Before we craft scenes that will capture readers and draw them into the story, these elements must be clear.

One thing I do at the beginning of a story is to generate a list of names I feel fit this project. In my YA fantasy novel, I chose Scottish names for one nation and German names for another. Behind The Name is an excellent site to find names. Then when I need a name, instead of losing productivity trying to invent one, I just turn to my list, choose a name I’ve already decided will work in the context of this story, and move on with hardly a pause.

For those who are planners, who like to outline and craft a story before sitting down to write that viable manuscript, the list of preparatory items gets a lot longer, including:

Timeline sketches. Particularly for complex stories with multiple characters, charting out the timeline and how the various POV threads will interact can be invaluable. Even if you only have one main character and one main protagonist, the exercise of plotting out when and how they’ll intersect over time can spark new ideas or identify holes in the planned plot.

For me, this helps particularly in complex endings. When tons of things are going on and the action jumps from one POV to another, and from one quick scene to another, weaving all of that in together into a tight, constantly escalating climax is daunting. A high-level timeline sketch keeps it all under control.

Character profiles. Who are your characters, what is their backstory? What do they want? Why can’t they have it? What are they going to do about it? Knowing all this for every main character, and even for important supporting characters provides fodder for tremendous depth and complexity of your story.

Character development and depth has been a challenge for me, and this exercise has helped tremendously.

Outline. How is your plot going to roll out? What scenes will you write to drive the story forward? How exactly will you generate empathy for the hero in the beginning, reveal the true conflict at the first plot point, illustrate the stakes, etc? For planners, the outline is the skeleton, the frame upon which you build the story. This is where great energy and time is spent as you explore all the possibilities.

My outlines keep getting longer. This is where I spend the bulk of my creative thinking time. It’s so much easier for me to explore different options and look for ways to ratchet up tension or stakes or conflict up front than it is after I’ve written 50,000 words and realize something is missing.

For those who prefer to free-write, to discover their story through the act of following the muse down the rabbit hole, the preparation process is more like exploring the back roads around your city at night. There’s a certain excitement to driving into the darkness, not entirely sure where the road will take you. The trip may take a lot longer then expected, you’ll take wrong turns, and have to back track. You may end up needing to return to the very start of your trip and begin anew.

For those free-writers, or pantsers as they’re often called, the early drafts of a story are like those late-night drives in the darkness. This is where you discover the story, just as a planner discovers their story through the outlining process. This effort can take a great deal of time, and through this process, the free-writer is building the foundation of their story. Once all of the necessary elements are in place, only then can the free-writer begin a viable draft that can stand successful.

This list is not exhaustive, but it’s a good place to start. Writers must think about it, particularly as we begin a new novel. Understanding the foundation we must build, regardless of how we choose to get there, is one of the most important things writers need to grasp.

This knowledge, and understanding how we individually approach the foundational elements in our story, allow us to become truly productive. Once we have these elements in place, we can dive into that manuscript, and the words will flow faster than we can write them. I type pretty fast, but sometimes I can barely keep up.

I started as a free-writer, and over time and as I’ve come to better understand these foundational requirements, I have slowly drifted across the spectrum to becoming more of a story planner. I free-write within each scene. This hybrid approach, which I think is fairly common, provides the most focused, most productive result for me while still allowing for some of those midnight drives.

How do you approach these foundational elements in your own stories? What other foundation blocks would you add to the list?

 

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It seems every author has at least one book on writing they feel every other writer needs to read. For me, this one rises head and shoulders above all the others. Larry Brooks‘ often blunt and always brilliant exploration of what he calls the physics of storytelling is game changing.

I actually read two of Larry’s e-books that were wrapped up into his final, polished product known as Story Engineering. They were Story Structure – Demystified, and The Three Dimensions of Character. They can be downloaded separately as PDFs from Larry’s site for only $3 each, but just buy the full Story Engineering book. You won’t regret it.

What makes Story Engineering so brilliant? It’s clear, it’s easily understandable, and it works.

I’ve read several other great books on writing, but never did any of them strike me with such power as this one. The journey toward becoming a professional writer is much like climbing a high mountain. We hit peaks in our journey that only reveal another peak rising behind it, a peak we couldn’t see before. We can get stuck on those smaller peaks, not sure how to proceed or to climb higher.

That was where I found myself when I discovered Larry Brooks’ physics of story telling. I had already completed two manuscripts, but I was stuck. I knew there was a problem with my story, even though it was so much better than anything I’d ever written before. Unfortunately, I couldn’t identify the issue, so I couldn’t fix it.

Then I learned about the underlying structure that needs to exist in any successful story. Larry lays it all out: The four-part structure, which I had heard of before, but with the mission and context of each part clearly explained, and the reasons why the story must shift at specific points to maximize its power. I’ve never found another explanation that so clearly lays it all out in a way that any story can be measured against it.

Some things the book answered for me were:

Why can’t we have the first plot point in chapter 1?
What needs to exist after the first plot point, where the hero learns his true mission, the stakes involved, and what force of opposition stands in the way?
What needs to happen at each of the other major milestones of the story to maximize its power?
How do I know if a scene really belongs in the book, and where it should be placed?
And much more.

In his Story Engineering book, Larry adds to the foundational structure, or physics, of a great story, by explaining what he calls the other ‘core competencies’ of writing required to make a story great. These include:

Concept
Character
Theme
Structure
Scene Execution
Writing Voice

If you can’t explain exactly what each of these are, particularly in context to your manuscript, you need this book. As he points out, the first 4 are elements of a great story, the raw material you craft your story with. The final two are the process of execution, where the art meets the physics.

Larry is clearly a proponent of story planning and outlining. I’ve moved in that direction myself  and found I can reduce the amount of rewriting substantially. However, for authors who are free-writers or discovery writers or ‘pantsers’, this knowledge is still vital. The early draft(s) for discovery writers are the search for story, just like story planners’ outlines. Only when they know the story they need to write and understand how all these core competencies fit into their story can they finally write a draft that will work.

I can’t recommend this book enough.

Another aspect of craft that Larry explores in his Story Engineering is found in the Three Degrees of Character. I’ve read other great books on character, but again I found Larry’s blunt, clear style incredibly powerful. He drills deep and lays truth bare in a way that authors can use it instantly. Within each of those three degrees of character are seven categories that need to be defined. Once an author understands these, they can be mixed and combined in almost infinite combinations to produce memorable, unique characters.

The three degrees of character are powerful. He explains them as:
1st degree: Surface Affections and Personality – what we show the world externally.
2nd degree: The inner landscape, the reasons why the character chooses to express themselves as they do to the world externally.
3rd degree: The very inner soul of the character, perhaps not known even to them in advance, where they show their true nature under extreme pressure. This is the dimension that ultimately defines character.

For example, if anyone has watched the Firefly SciFi series, the captain of the Serenity is a great example of a complex character.
1st dimension (the face he shows the world): He’s a tough-as-nails, no-nonsense character who will kill without remorse, and engage in illegal activities for a living.
2nd dimension (why): He fought against the empire that rules the galaxy, but his side lost. He does what he does to stay free and gain little victories against an enemy he still hates.
3rd dimension (true character): He will risk his life to save people he could easily justify sacrificing. He’s a man of honor who will risk everything to save those he loves or to fight tyranny. But he’ll punch you out if you say that to his face.

This is powerful stuff, and liberating when an author understands it. I need to review it again since character development is still one of my weaker skills, but the toolchest is there. I just need to train myself to use it.

For any author who really wants to master the toolbox we use to craft great stories, get Larry Brooks’ Story Engineering book and study it carefully. It will open doors of understanding and illuminate the path to the next peak in your writing career.

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