Tag Archives: writing advice

Try/Fail Cycles of Writing Advice

The Internet is filled with blogs, discussion forums, and clever tweets about writing. Though my writing friends and I do our best to keep up with the latest news and tricks, it feels like trying to drink from a fire hose. Go Google “writing advice” and you’ll find nearly half a million results!

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Clearly, there is no shortage of people willing to talk to young authors about writing. So thank you for choosing to spend some of your time with us, sharing the Fictorians with your friends, and reading our thoughts and words. We appreciate your patronage and hope you find us helpful in your own writing journey!

Though we writers want to learn from the successes and failures of others, it is essential to remember that what worked for a New York Times best seller may not be effective for me, and that’s perfectly okay. Ultimately, any piece of advice should be judged based on its efficacy for the end user, not the prestige of the source.

As an example, I once read that the “best” way to be a prolific writer while also working a day job is to get up three hours early each day and spend the time writing. Not only will there be no distractions in the early hours of the morning, but your mind is freshest right after waking up, right? Okay, I gave it a try… and failed miserably. I am a morning person, but I am NOT a getting out of bed person. It’s mostly a matter of inertia. I have an alarm clock I keep across my bedroom in addition to my phone on my bedside table and set, on average, six to eight alarms a day. However, once I’m vertical and have some momentum, I’m good to go. Unsurprising to anyone, getting out of bed three hours earlier than I absolutely needed to be never happened. That piece of advice, though effective for others, failed me miserably. Oh well! Moving on.

But what if it wasn’t when I write, but rather HOW I write that was slowing me down? Kevin J Anderson swears by his dictation method for first drafts, and he’s by far the most productive author I know. He is able to hike up 14,000 ft mountains while spinning a yearn, send off the recording for transcription, and then edit the resulting manuscript into a best seller. This technique has resulted in over 23 MILLION books in print. I do a lot of driving, biking, and hiking, so why not double dip that time? Furthermore, physical activity works wonders to get my creative mind juices flowing, so I took a risk. I bought a recorder, a copy of Dragon Naturally Speaking, and spent the better part of a year practicing dictating my stories and blogs. Though I can do it, the technique just doesn’t work as well for me as it does for Kevin. Instead of a steady stream of consciousness, I stutter and stumble, resulting in a file that DNS has a rough time converting into comprehensible prose. I then spend hours cutting, reworking, and revising that mess into a finished product. In the end I spend as much total time as if I were to sit down and use manual entry from the beginning. So, for most circumstances, I have stopped using the recorder.

Beyond the basic act of producing prose, there is the fundamental question of what to write in the first place. While the basic dramatic structure has been thoroughly explored, every book or blog on story I read seems to tout a system of “rules” that are absolutely, positively, 100% mission critical to ensure success, fame, and fortune. You must always have a shot clock, must always allow time for thoughtful sequels, must always have a love triangle, and must always do this and that and whatever or you are doomed to failure, remaindered books, and discount book bins. While all these elements can work wonders to spruce up your fiction, not every technique translates well across genre boundaries.

For example, I have read advice from a big name romance writer that insisted that all stories need a happy ending. That’s a great guideline if you are writing for a romance audience. Their main emotional interest is the vicarious experience of falling in love. However, a story of romance and seduction isn’t the only payoff, else they’d be reading erotica. A romance book is a story in which two lovers are able to overcome the factors that stand in the way of their happily ever after. The relationship is as important as the sex.

However, other audiences aren’t so picky. Look at the success of the Song of Fire and Ice (Game of Thrones) books. There aren’t very many happy endings, but the story is plenty thrilling and surprising. The grimdark audience is looking to fulfill a very different set of emotional needs. Different audiences, different stories, different rules. Consider what every genre has to give, but do what works best for your readers and story.

Over the years, I have read thousands of pages of writing advice and have found that there is no one-size-fits-all answer. The best advice comes from people with whom you resonate. Look for those who have had success in similar genres, the writers you liked to read growing up, and industry professionals who are involved with authors who write like you. Find those who have overcome struggles similar to what you deal with and figure out how they did it. Read as much material as you can get your hands on, but don’t feel bound to listen to any of it. Ultimately, your writing tricks and habits should be organic, always growing towards the goal of increased productivity. Steal what works for you and leave the rest eating your dust.

Close Conflicts of the Romantic Kind

Here on The Fictorians, we’ve been talking conflict all month—internal, external, character vs …, writer vs…, but we haven’t yet talked about romance. Time to change that. Now, I’m a Fantasy guy, both as a reader and a writer. The reading came first, of course. I started with Tolkien, Brooks, Hickman, McKiernan, and Eddings back in the day, gobbling up epic tales of elves and dwarves and dragons, magic and mysticism, and good versus evil on a planetary scale. Man, I loved that stuff. Still do, actually.

Over the years I’ve read a gazillion books, but the stories that stick with me, the ones that hold a piece of my soul, are those that not only satisfied my need for the magic, but also spoke to my heart. I love stories that explore the spark, the attraction, between two characters. A strong romantic storyline, carefully fed and nurtured, can turn a good story into a magnificent tale that brushes against the reader’s soul.

And what writer doesn’t strive for that each and every time he puts words to paper?

I’m not talking about writing a Romance novel, but a sci-fi/fantasy story with romantic elements. There’s a big difference between the two. A novel classified as romance is subject to what I call the “Three Laws of Romance”:

  1. The Law of the HEA – the story must have a “happily ever after” ending.
  2. The Law of Astronomical Odds – the odds against the characters realizingtheir HEA must be so astronomical, the reader cannot possibly foresee how they could ever get together.
  3. The Law of Forever Apart – keep the budding lovers apart for as long as possible. Once they get together, the story is over.

These three laws constitute an emotional contract between the Romance writer and the reader. Before reading the first word, a reader has their story-level expectations set. She buys into the formula and looks to lose herself in the unique twists and turns the author takes to reach that HEA.

Once a writer drops the “big R”, introducing a romantic subplot off the main sword and sorcery epic, the laws vanish. Anything goes. As a writer, this is where I live. I’m a lawbreaker, a rebel.

Badges? I don’t need no stinkin’ badges.

Let’s talk about developing the romantic conflict. For writers who consider planning/outlining a four-letter word, the romantic storyline is something that develops organically, something that the characters “feel” while the words flow from the writer’s brain to his fingertips.

But I’m a hard-core plotter. I have to know what to do when or I’ll leave something out. In the early stages, while developing each primary character’s internal and external conflicts, I consider a third type—the romantic conflict. Which characters will fall in love, or like, or lust, depending on the needs of the story? How will it happen? Will it have a HEA? When will it happen? Writing in a land with no “Big R” laws, I can do whatever I want. I can string the reader along, plying her with stolen goblin kisses behind the ale casks and furtive cyclopean smiles from the high window in the wizard’s tower, only to have one of the characters turned into a coconut in the last chapter. While that might add a kick to a refreshing adult beverage, being turned into a fuzzy, hard-shelled fruit wreaks havoc upon a budding relationship.

That’s a mean example, but makes my point. Being a romantic, I would never do that to my readers without a significant amount of foreshadowing to cushion the blow. I want the guy to get the girl, or the elf to get the elf maid, or the whatever creature to get the blue whatsit. The key here is to consider adding that dash of romantic conflict to any plot.

Romance, love, attraction, they are all inherent in the human, or quasi human, condition. Fully resolved characters will encounter this at some point in their existence. Embrace it. Develop it. Write it. Give the story the added spark.

Weird Antho Angst

It’s not the waiting the kills… it’s the waste.

One of the more common ways of getting into the writing business and building “street-cred” is to peruse the calls for submissions on sites like Duotrope.com, Ralan.com, and Submission Grinder. Those sites are great for providing loads of opportunity. The problem is that many of the themes listed are pretty specific. Most of them run along the weird paths of cross-genre or niche topics that are hell-and-gone from the mainstream.

Sure, it can be fun writing a story about zombie porn or purple unicorns, but it’s also exceedingly risky. And yes, I have a buddy who is in a zombie porn antho called 50 Shades of Decay, and I just had a story come out in a purple unicorn anthology titled One Horn to Rule Them All. I can say with confidence that the quality of stories in these off-the-beaten-track collections is on par with mainstream fiction, and can be even better as a result of the topic.

The problem stems for the fact that once you write the story, you have to wait weeks or even months to hear back on whether you made the cut. That’s the same as with any short story submission, certainly, but with one of these, the bar is sometimes a bit higher than “normal” fiction. With regular fiction the bar is established and fairly well understood by the community. With non-traditional anthos, however, you not only have to write a good story, you must more accurately discern the tastes or intent of the editor or publication putting out the call for submission.

It can be like trying to hit a kangaroo from orbit with a drunken koala.

(Just let that visual sink in for a minute).

Now, if you make it in, great. But statistically speaking, the odds are that you won’t make the cut. That’s where the real pain comes in. If your story isn’t selected, you have one to six-thousand words that you’re going to play hell placing elsewhere. I mean, what are the odds that Asimov or Fantasy & Science Fiction want something that was written specifically for someplace else? It can be done, but those are pretty long odds, especially if the story wasn’t good enough to make the cut for the antho.

There are no easy roads into the business, and while weird anthos are one of them, you may want to go with the more mainstream topics when you’re first starting. Once your writing is cleaner and you’re placing stories more frequently, or even at will, then it’s time to hit the weird stuff.