Category Archives: Storyline

The Devil is in the Details

Character Karen Pellett Movies Science Fiction Setting and Milieu Storyline The Writing Life World-building No Comments

A Guest Post by Karen Pellett

What makes a great story? For me it is the details. A story is the sum of its parts. It is an amalgamation of plot, character, dialogue and imagination, but it all comes down to the little details of each segment as to whether or not a story is truly compelling or memorable for me.

starwars1What details do we remember most about Star Wars movie legacy? Is it how frustrating Jar Jar Binks is for some? Is it the loss of innocence when Anakin chooses the Dark Side of the Force? Is it the pivotal, “I am your Father!” moment between Luke and Vadar? For me it’s the relationship between memorable characters, the lack of consistency in plot, all twisted with its brilliant humor and dialogue. Perplexed?

So am I.

I LOVE Star Wars, and yet at the same time I am really frustrated by it. As a burgeoning author it frustrates me beyond Hades that plot gaps punctuate the story line left and right. For example, in Episode III: Revenge of the Sith (2005) we see the death of Padme Amidala Skywalker from heartbreak shortly after the birth of her babes, Luke & Leia.

Later, in Episode VI: Return of the Jedi (1983), as Luke is about to leave Leia with the Ewoks to go in search of Vadar he asks Leia is she remembers her mother, her real mother. Leia responds that her mother died when she was very young, but she was “very beautiful. Kind, but…sad.”

It is the little inconsistencies and plot gaps like this one that make Star Wars iffy in my book when it comes to great storytelling. However, the impeccable world creation, complex casts of characters, dialogue interplay and down-right humor and quotable quotes that act as a counterbalance, thus bringing me back time and time again to soak myself in its brilliance.

Now I adore Star Wars, but I am Doctor Who geek for life.

As I child I would sneak out of my bed at night to lie on the floor to peak around the living room couch to watch the classic episodes with my father. I wasn’t supposed to, but he never sent me back to bed until the episodes were over.

I have found memories of Tom Baker (#4) with his fabulous six foot scarf and Jelly Babies, Peter Davidson (#5) and his stalk of celery for identifying radiation leaks and his many, intriguing companions (most importantly, K-9, the sarcastic robot canine companion).

Sure the props seemed made of cardboard and dryer vent pipes, but the concept of the Daleks, the Cybermen and so many other villains, captured my young mind and wouldn’t let go. It was with eager anticipation that I watched the reinvention of Time & Space with Christopher Eccelston’s (#9) version of the Doctor in 2009.

With Eccleston, as well as with each regeneration since, I was hesitant at first to accept the new Doctor and their inherent catch phrase. I was also hesitant with the shift from more science fiction to science drama when it came to so many of the female companions falling in love with their Doctor.

Then I met Donna Noble. She is my penultimate idea of a Doctor Who companion—feisty, brilliant, empathetic, with a desperate need to believe more in herself, but willing to see the good in others, excited learn and to explore, and in it for the friendship of a lifetime. She was the modern-day equivalent of Elisabeth Sladen’s character, Mary Jane Smith. So once again, I find myself compelled, even drawn to a story/series that had its weaknesses, but the complexity of the details, the humor, and the interplay between characters made it come alive.

So what makes great storytelling? It may be different for each and everyone one of us. Our take on books is subjugated by our experiences, our emotions. For me, I am drawn back time and time again to those stories that show me who a character is as a person. It is the details of their lives—their sense of humor, their faults, how they choose to react with others and their world—that make them come alive. And if they are alive, then they are a part of me.

Yes, plot and character growth matter; there is no story without them. But what makes the story compelling is the details that make up who those people are. The devil or God (depending if you’re the antagonist or protagonist) is in the very details of their lives.

Karen Pellett:

Karen Pellett is a crazy woman with a computer, and she’s not afraid to use it. Most of her time is spent between raising three overly brilliant and stinkin’ cute children, playing video games with her stepsons, and the rare peaceful moment with her husband. When opportunity provides she escapes to the alternate dimension to write fantasy & magical realism novels, the occasional short story, and essays on raising special needs children. Karen lives, plots & writes in American Fork, Utah.

Worldbuilding in the Final Frontier

Dave Heyman Fantasy Storyline World-building No Comments

A guest blog by David Heyman.

DS9stationAs a reader and writer of fantasy, I am strongly drawn to stories that emphasize worldbuilding. I think it’s a fascinating process: creating a living breathing world, real and vibrant enough that the reader will believe that world exists even after closing the book. When done well, worldbuilding allows the story to come alive, creating emotional resonance and allowing a rich backdrop onto which the writer can place their characters and dilemmas.

On television, one of my favorite examples comes from a somewhat unlikely place. Traditionally worldbuilding is the domain of new science fiction and fantasy properties, but in this case I am going to explore a show that was set in an already well-established universe: Star Trek Deep Space Nine.

In the writer’s room of the television Deep Space Nine, they had a common response to a writing problem or challenge: “make it a virtue!” Take your problem and find the strength in it, use that problem’s challenges make your story stronger. This particular show’s primary problem was one of motion, or the lack thereof. The USS Enterprise (both original and D) of the first two Star Trek shows was always travelling, always moving. Each week there were new worlds, new civilizations… new wonders to entice your audience.

Deep Space Nine was a space station- -it wasn’t going anywhere. Sure, the writers could have the ‘wonders’ come to the station (and they occasionally would) but they also took this problem and made it a virtue by embracing the world building opportunity it represented. Instead of seeing the amazing worlds and galactic wonders of the external galaxies, DS9 would draw you in by exploring the details of its characters and setting.

Exploring the emotional depths of the leads was not uncharted territory for Star Trek, but never before had the series spent so much time expanding on the backstories of not just the main characters, but a parade of recurring side characters as well. No more was the cast trying to solve the dilemmas of the ‘guest star’ of the week, forcing the viewer at home to try to care about the problems of someone they just met. Now we were visiting the lives of old friends (and enemies), learning more about them as they worked through complex emotional and morality puzzles.

By staying with the same set of primary locations (the station as well as key planets in the lore) the show again was able to add interest by going deeper rather than farther. Depth over distance, allowing the worlds of Bajor, Cardassia, the Dominion and Deep Space Nine itself to be expanded and explored in detail never before tried on a Star Trek show. Each of these repeating locations thus gained a life of their own, becoming characters in their own right with diverse and recognizable geography, politics and cultural motivations.

In later seasons, the series then took these twin strengths of worldbuilding and character depth and upped the ante by embracing serialized storylines. Common place now, these were still quite uncommon in the speculative fiction side of television back in the early 90s, and unheard of in Star Trek. Starting with three or four episode arcs, the series got bolder as time went on, with the final two seasons all being primarily driven by one story line.

This is not to say that Deep Space Nine never told a story in the more traditional Trek format, nor that the other Trek shows never focused on developing their characters or expanding the worldbuilding beyond introducing new races. (Next Generation, for example, did wonders for the Klingons). In the large sense though, the original series and Next Generation were primary shows about the adventure the characters were on, whereas Deep Space Nine though staked out a claim as a show that was essentially about itself- -its characters and the world they lived in day to day.

I feel it was the foundation the writers had laid with their characters and their worldbuilding that allowed this experiment to live long and prosper, if you will. By bringing viewers deeper into their characters and their environment, they had the luxury of taking them on longer journeys, with bigger emotional payoffs.

As a writer, I often think back to Deep Space Nine and the lessons I learned by watching it. Like most authors, I write the stories I want to read- -for me those are stories that travel deep inside their character and their world, building in the reader a bottomless well of emotional resonance.


Dave writes both novels and short stories in the various genres of speculative fiction. His other passions include his family, gaming and reading about mountaineering. Sleep is added to the mix when needed. You can visit him at daveheyman.com

The Roller Coaster that was Tig Trager

Character Craft & Skills Jace Killan Storyline No Comments

Tig_709I have a confession—I binge-watched Sons of Anarchy. That’s right, I neglected work, my family, my nutrition, all of it for SOA. I had seen the commercials and was intrigued, but held off watching even a single episode until the finale hit Amazon Prime. Then I gave episode one a shot. And a few days later, I felt the overwhelming loss when there were no more episodes in my cue.

*Spoiler Alert*

Initially, Tig Traeger was my second most favorite character (following Opie). Later he became my favorite for the entire season.

At first, I liked TIg’s personality. He was funny and sensitive, but he could pull the trigger and kill as if it was second nature. He was also loyal to the club.

So loyal in fact that he accepted the assignment to take out Opie who was being framed by the ATF as a club snitch. (Something Opie would never do).

As the story unfolds, we see it coming. Opie’s wife Donna takes Opie’s truck. Tig mistakes Donna for Opie and performs the hit. This act was so heinous, so reckless, and wrong.

Donna was a great person, trying to raise her kids and keep her husband righteous while respecting his loyalty to the club. She was one of the good guys.

anarchytigopie110918123517Opie was also one of the good guys. He ends up giving his life for the club that betrayed him. Opie didn’t deserve the hit but Clay, the club president, acting in ignorance, called on Tig who executed without question. In so many ways the hit was preventable. Tig could have looked harder, but he was already tore up about offing one of his brothers. And Clay could have showed more intelligence.

As soon as he killed Donna, I hated Tig. I wanted to see Tig die. I expected the writers to end his short involvement with SOA within the next couple episodes. But they didn’t. They kept him until the end.

They took Tig on a journey of redemption. Seasons later (or a couple days later) I reminded myself that Tig had killed Donna. But now I felt sorry for the guy. He had been ordered by the real offender, Clay. Yet, that was no excuse. I couldn’t love Tig again. Not after what he did.

Tig tries to make amends and eventually confesses to Opie. Opie forgives and this helps me forgive too. Then Tig finds a dog, badly beaten and almost dead. Tig takes care of the dog and nurses it back to health.

Then Tig’s two daughters are tortured and killed, burned alive in front of him. His pain and grief are so pitiful, I couldn’t help but care for the man.

Tig’s journey reinforced a few important key points to character development. First, Tig was not all good or all bad. He had traits in both arenas. Sometimes it was his good traits that got him into trouble and sometimes it was his bad traits that got him out. The writers carried us on a journey of emotion as they told Tig’s story. It wasn’t easy and it took time for Tig to recover from what he had done, but two main things helped Tig toward redemption—pain and kindness.

Characters become more likeable when they suffer. The death of TIg’s daughters caused a great deal of suffering. Characters become more likeable when they “pet the dog.” Showing kindness to animals (especially dogs), genuine concern even at the character’s own expense, and adherence to some sort of moral code, show us that they are really good people, or at least they want to be.

This worked for Tig. I’m glad the writers didn’t take the easy road and off this character in the first season as I suspected they would.

 

jace 1I live in Arizona with my family, wife and five kids and two little dogs. I write fiction, thrillers and soft sci-fi with some short horror on the side. I’ve got an MBA and work in finance for a biotechnology firm.

I volunteer with the Boy Scouts, play and write music, and enjoy everything outdoors. I’m also a novice photographer.

You can visit my author website at www.jacekillan.com, and you can read some of my works by visiting my Wattpad page.

K.M.Weiland’s Structuring Your Novel, Part Two

Craft & Skills Ideas & Plotting Kristin Luna Outlines Storyline The Fictorians Writing Tools 3 Comments
*Please note this is a two part series. Part one of the series was published on Monday, December 14th.*

 

On Monday, I gave a brief overview of K.M. Weiland’s fantastic writing resource Outlining Your Novel. Today, I’ll give a peek into her follow-up writing book Structuring Your Novel.

Let’s just get the argument out of the way first. Kristin, you’ve already said Outlining Your Novel was fantastic for me to have. How is Structuring Your Novel any different? Doesn’t she just repackage the material covered in Outlining Your Novel in this book?

First, Structuring Your Novel is, surprisingly, completely different than Outlining Your Novel. I can only think of a handful of times where Weiland references something from Outlining Your Novel, but usually to note something you should’ve already have done in the pre-writing stage. Think of it this way: Outlining Your Novel is about conceptualization, like blueprinting a future house. Structuring Your Novel is actually building said house. They are similar in that they are both processes of making a house, but completely different in action.

K.M. Weiland breaks up her book into two sections: the macros of story structure and the micros of story structure. The macros include: the hook, the beginning, the first act, the first plot point, the second and third acts, the climax, the resolution, and the ending. Some of these macros are similar, but Weiland breaks down their differences, what percentage into your book they should occur, and why each are important. She also outlines some common mistakes and pitfalls, how to avoid them, and how to fix them.

The second half of Structuring Your Novel consists of the micros, or scene and sentence structure. Once you’ve structured the overall story, now your attention needs to be paid to each individual scene and chapter. You want these micros to mirror the bigger story: the highs and the lows. Weiland specifically examines and defines The Scene and The Sequel, which I can assure you I did not learn in college. She also briefly examines sentence structure, getting super-micro with structure.

How important is structure, really? It’s the difference between the second book in a trilogy being the ugly stepsister, or as brilliantly important as The Two Towers. How you structure the events in your story will equate to how believable your characters and their actions are.

“Structure is required in all art. Dancing, painting, singing, you name it — all forms require structure. Writing is no different. To bring a story to its full potential, authors must understand the form’s limitations, as well as how to put its many parts into the proper order to achieve maximum effect.” (From the Introduction)

In summary, K.M. Weiland’s books on writing put information on outlining and structure in two, easily accessible locations. What I love best about Weiland’s overarching style in these books is that it is humble and unassuming. She draws from a huge breadth of knowledge on writing, drawing from other writers and other authors of books on writing, and presents the information as clear as a bell.

If you want a clear, no nonsense approach to the basics of prewriting and structuring a story, you need these books.