Chris Rogers's Blog, page 14

Working on New Book Cover

Here’s a hint – the paranormal story takes place in the Caribbean, where a 300-year-old pirate operates the Sarah Jane as a cruise ship.

Here Lies a Wicked Man: Snippet #2

The shape of the object looks wrong for a tree limb.

Booker slid the zoom to maximum magnification. What at first appeared to be a branch now looked more like an arm. Surely not a human arm. Not flesh-colored at all. Gray. Mottled.

He straightened and limped to the water’s edge, wrenched knee protesting fiercely.

“Good dog, Pup. Haul it on in.” The sun climbed higher, casting shadows from overhanging trees.

“That’s Chuck Fowler’s ugly yellow shirt,” Emaline said behind him. “Baby-poop yellow, with that big black stripe. I asked Chuck if he was practicing to be a road sign. I’d’ve thought he was too old for skinny dipping.”

Booker stared uneasily at what might’ve been yellow before spending time in the lake. His stomach did a slow roll, stirring the granola bar into the coffee and biscuits he’d eaten earlier. “Emaline, when was the last time you saw Chuck Fowler?”

“Last Sunday. Day of the Capricorn new moon. Brought his son to the golf course for an early round.” Emaline hooted. “That boy’ll never make much of a golfer, his daddy yelling at him all eighteen holes.”

“Was Fowler wearing his yellow shirt?”

Pup paddled fiercely about ten yards away now, dragging his heavy load. Extending from a pair of dun-colored trousers trailing in the water was what looked to be a shoe.

“Yep, yellow shirt, khakis…” Loud enough to reach the next county, Emaline moved closer, choosing her steps on the mushy ground. “You don’t suppose…?”

“Excuse me,” Booker edged past her. “The sun’s about to go. It’s now or never.” He scooped up a rock and limped back to the tripod. Through the viewfinder, he saw that Pup’s paddling had stirred up plenty of ripples. He tossed the rock aside, swiped at sweat trickling down his neck and pushed the trigger. The motor drive whirred, snapping off frames.

When Booker glanced back at the water’s edge, Pup had dragged his prize up the bank and Emaline had turned as pale as skim milk.

NAKED WRITING: Humanize Your Characters

Think about your favorite fiction characters. Those that most intrigue us have depth—not just depth of personality, that’s a given, but their entire persona is multilayered.

On the surface, a woman, for example, might appear young, rich, privileged—a stereotype. Simply by giving her a less-than-beautiful demeanor, she becomes more human, more interesting, less of a cardboard cutout.

Ed McBain, known best for his crime fiction, some 54 novels featuring the detectives of the 87th precinct, was a master at creating multilayered characters. In one of his early books, The Mugger, Bert Kling meets a friend’s wife and is at first taken back by her rather frumpy appearance…

“…a washed-out blond with faded blue eyes. The eyes were very tired, and wrinkles radiated from their edges.”

Then, after she speaks…

“There was something very warm about Molly, and he found himself liking her immensely…”

A page or two later, Kling meets the woman’s sister…

“She wore her blonde hair clipped close to her head, and it was the blondest hair Kling had ever seen in his life. It was almost yellow, like ripe corn, and he knew instantly that she had never touched it.”

Then…

“Her lips were full, and she wore pale-orange lipstick, and her mouth was not smiling.”

The sisters are both blond with blue eyes, but McBain did a fine job of individualizing them. Notice how he focused on a single feature before moving on, and that feature alone gives a strong impression. He could quickly humanize even a walk-on.

In your own descriptions, remember to see through the eyes of your viewpoint character. Detective Bert Kling makes these observations, but the women might appear quite differently from another character’s viewpoint.

NAKED WRITING: Dangle the Readers

Imagine a mountain climber. A wet, freezing wind knocks him off the mountain, and he dies. Tragic. But back up now and imagine again:

A wet, freezing wind blows through the mountains. High above, we see a lone mountain climber. The wind knocks the climber sideways. His foot slips. He dangles a thousand feet in the air, frantically trying to regain his footing. As his weary muscles cramp, darkness closes in.

As a fan of mystery and suspense, I grew up enamored of Alfred Hitchcock, especially appreciating his knack for drawing us deep into a tangle of suspense, often without a lot of blood and gore. The suspense was already present in the stories he chose, but as a film producer, Hitchcock knew precisely how to intensify the impact.

Have you ever watched a group of small children listing to the Three Little Pigs told by a natural storyteller? The wolf huffs… and he puffs… and those little eyes grow big and round as they wait for the next line.

We create suspense for our readers through:

Anticipation of what’s to come
Tension as we wait for it, and
Release when it happens.

Only practice can teach how much tension is too much or too little, but every story improves when the tension cord stretches.

Anticipation—————————Tension—————————Release

In The Borrowers, Mary Norton writes, Arrietty watched and waited. All was still except for a sudden whirr within the clock. A grinding whirr it was, up high in the hollow darkness above her head, then the sliding grate of slipped metal before the clock sang out its chime. Three notes were struck, deliberate and mellow…

So, suspense is not merely a trick of the mystery or horror trade. In virtually every story, from Geoffery Chaucer’s The Canterbury Tales to Louisa May Alcott’s Little Women, success hinges on the writer’s ability to loop a tension cord of anticipation around the reader on page one and, using the reader’s emotions, draw that cord taut all the way to the end.

Tension, in real life, makes us a little crazy, but it keeps readers turning pages.

 

 

 

 

NAKED WRITING: Variety of Voices

Who but Yoda from Return of the Jedi would say, “stubborn you are”? Who but Sherlock Holmes would say, “The game’s afoot”?

Distinctive characters not only come instantly alive and draw us deep into their story world, they also live on in our minds. We quote them, and sometimes refer to them as if they were real folks.

As children, didn’t we love Dr. Seuss’s wacky rhyming? “I do not like them in a box. I do not like them with a fox.”

Like other novelists, I develop character profiles, then I go a step further to create speech profiles. Individuals from widely different backgrounds are easy to distinguish. But among characters of the similar ethnic, education, and socioeconomic backgrounds, giving each a personal language, or idiolect, takes a bit of work… and it pays off.

First, consider their interests and hobbies:

An avid fisherman might use such terms as… hooking into, catching up, reeling in, baiting a sucker, netting results, holy mackerel, dumb as a gull, smelly as fish bait.
A seamstress might speak in sewing terms… button your lip, cut the strings, thread your way, tight as a bobbin, line his pockets, coat of another color.

Also, give your characters a sensory preference. Like being right- or left-handed, each of us is visual, auditory, or kinesthetic. Although we use all the senses—just as we use both hands—we favor one modality over the others.

People who are more visual might say, “show me” when an auditory person would say, “tell me what you mean,” and a kinesthetic person might say, “give it to me straight.” You’ll find some word lists below.

By determining which sense your characters favor, as well as their special interests, you’ll add depth and distinction to your story’s voices.

Visual words: see, look, perceive, notice, observe, sight, watch, examine, view, visualize, peek, spy, reflect, bright, appearance, light, dark, colorful, brilliant, image, imagine, recognize, identify, …

Auditory words: hear, listen, tell, told, say, sound, eavesdrop, speaker, earshot, hearing voice, musical, lyrical, talk, inquire, inquiry, buzz, chatter, hearsay, question, converse, lend an ear, consult,

Kinesthetic words: feel, soft, hard, rough, spicy, wet, dry, get, give, tug, handle, touch, grope, finger, thumb, brush, graze, stroke, caress, experience, empathize, walk, run, sense, texture, smooth, suffer, cast an eye, flank, cover, lead, take, open your ears, come face to face…

NAKED WRITING: What’s In The Box?

There was a time when everyone had cigar boxes filled with odds and ends, crayons, pencils, bits of broken jewelry. It’s quite human to collect things.

Sometimes we hide our collections away from prying eyes… in a closet, a drawer or under the bed. What do those things say about us?

What do your characters collect?

• Photographs? Where are they stored? Why? And why are they important?

• How about ticket stubs or playbills. What performances has this person enjoyed enough to keep reminders?

• String, paper clips, old shoes—why do they collect in drawers and closets?

A collection of books or magazines can tell us a lot about a person. What do they read most? Do they dog-ear the pages or use a bookmark? Which words do they underline? What do they scribble in the margins?

When my dad died, I inherited his collection of tools. They were old but sturdy, and I recalled the many beautiful projects those tools created.

From my mom I inherited a glass bowl that I could never recall seeing in her home. It’s made of clear green glass and has three pheasants with their wings spread around the outside. I can’t help wondering where it came from originally and why she kept it.

The odds and ends our characters cling to... or just shove thoughtlessly into a box… can open a window into personality quirks we didn’t know they had. And the more we know about our characters, the richer our writing becomes.

NAKED WRITING: 5 Dialogue Tips

In writing dialogue, it’s easy to get lazy and slip into our own speech patterns. But dialogue is perfect for showing how characters differ. Here are some ways to do that:

1. Use contrast. When two people will be interacting throughout the story, give them opposite personalities and attitudes.

One might be deceitful, the other trusting.
One serious, the other giddy.
One aggressive, the other tolerant.

2. Maintain consistency in a character’s gestures and word choices. Playwright Sam Havens says he allots each character five words that no one else is allowed to use.

3. Repeat key words to connect dialogue that’s separated by a long passage of internal thought.

“We’re going to the drug store,” Annie said. She hadn’t slept a wink the night before, listening to her mother cough. Two weeks should be enough to get over a simple cold. It was time to call a doctor, but her mother refused to listen.

“Drug store?” Bill followed her out the door. “Good, I need toothpaste.”

4. Interrupt long passages of dialogue with action.

“We’re going to the drug store. I didn’t sleep a wink last night, listening to Mother cough.” Annie pulled the door shut behind them. “Two weeks, isn’t that enough time to get over a simple cold? I want to call a doctor. But will she listen?”

5. Use variety to avoid the monotonous “ask-answer” routine:

One character asks a question, but the other person answers a different question.

“Do you know Mrs. Carter?”

“Mrs. Carter? It’s her son you really want to know about. Tommy Carter.”
Or a character asks a “what” question that’s answered with “why.”

“What’s this spill on the carpet?”

“I was watching TV, and the cat—your cat—pounced on me. Just like that, pounced!”
Or instead of answering, the other person asks a return question.

“When did you say they were coming?”

“Why? You got somewhere to go?”

With just these few ideas, you can quickly perk up any lazy dialogue you might have.

NAKED WRITING: 5 Dialogue Mistakes

Dialogue is fun to write, but while some writers are naturals at it, others struggle. Either way, here are 5 excellent “don’ts.”

1. Don’t duplicate real conversation. “Uhmmm, well, okay, yeah. I think we can do that, uhh, by next week, if, well, if you think Friday’s…um… when you need it..” How about this instead: “Yeah, we can do that by next week, if you need it. Say … Friday?”

Real conversation is not dialogue. In most cases, eave out the page clutter of “ums” and “wells.”

2. Don’t use stilted language patterns. “Please come into the dining room, John. It is time for lunch.” Instead: “Come on in, John. Lunch time.”

People do speak in complete sentences, but most normal conversation is filled with contractions and incomplete thoughts, except when a character is especially formal and stodgy or speaks English as a second language.

3. Don’t use too many direct attributions. “Where are we going?” Bill asked.“To the drug store,” Annie said. “What do we need this time?” Bill asked.

Try substituting an action: “Where are we going?” Bill followed Annie out the door. She straightened his shirt collar. “To the drug store.”

4. Don’t use names often within dialogue. “Annie, where are we going?” “To the drug store, Bill.” “What do we need this time, Annie?

Think about it. In daily conversation, how often do you use a person’s name?

5. Don’t grope to find synonyms for “said.” “Where are we going?” Bill queried. “To the drug store,” Annie responded. “What do we need this time?” Bill inquired.

An occasional synonym, such as whispered, can give additional information, but by using gestures, actions, and character-specific dialogue, most attributions can be avoided altogether.

An exception to each of these 5 “don’ts” is when you want to make a specific character’s dialogue unique–that’s where to have fun.

When you must use synonyms for said, try one that amplifies your meaning:

announced, declared, stated, remarked, added, put in, told (me, him/her, us), reported, cried, divulged, revealed, estimated, predicted, speculated, hypothesized, conjectured, promised, implied, alleged, avowed, attested, vouched, claimed, responded, queried, suggested, argued, insisted, instructed, pleaded, begged, bleated, shouted, yelled, bellowed, murmured, jeered, teased, whispered, mumbled, murmured.

A Snippet from: EMISSARY, A Novel

by Chris Rogers

Perched at the edge of Addison Hale’s drink container, Emissary Ruell’s biological energy spark hesitated before entering the president’s corporeal form. An instant earlier, aboard the Szhen ship, Ruell’s assignment had seemed challenging and adventurous.

“You can do this,” his mentor, Kralaill, had said during last-minute instructions for Ruell’s deputation as Emissary to Earth.

“I wish I shared my mentor’s confidence.” The Human words grated like sand on Ruell’s thought sensors.

“Twenty-three emissaries have been successfully integrated on other planets, Ruell. You will be number twenty-four.”

In the blackness of the Ready Room, Kralaill’s brilliant spark flickered from blue to green. Ruell frequently envisioned his mentor’s image before Kralaill relinquished his corporeal form and boarded the ship, but there was no time now for such sentimentality. For both of them, the comfort of occupying a body of one’s own was forever in the past and best forgotten.

“How many emissaries have actually fulfilled their mission, Mentor, and returned whole?”

Instead of answering, Kralaill ushered Ruell to the conveyance chamber. Before engaging the relocation beam, he repeated, with a shift of inflection, “You can do this, Ruell.”

Expanding now into President Hale’s neural network, Ruell peered out at a world he previously had viewed only in scanner waves. Everything looked glossier than expected, and multi-textured. And strange. After the bland colors and sterile, mechanical odors aboard the Szhen ship, this environment aroused Ruell’s visual and olfactory sensors, provoking memories of home too painful to endure at the moment.

Groping for stability in the unfamiliar body, he sampled the rich sensory stimulants of Air Force One to strengthen his spark—authentic wood, freshly cut flowers, leather seats—and he tried not to think of being separated from everything he knew and loved.

“Madam President, this report just arrived.” The more interesting of the two men approaching President Hale extended a sheaf of papers.

Buy it now at Amazon and Kindle.

NAKED WRITING: Surprise Your Reader

Like other story elements, surprise has a structure—and all readers enjoy an occasional surprise. It adds spice to what might be a necessary but less than exciting part of the story.

In The Phantom Tollbooth, a favorite children’s book, Norton Juster drops little surprises throughout. He describes Milo as a boy who’s bored with life. On page one, Milo’s walking home after a boring day at school expecting a boring afternoon of nothing to do, nowhere he’d care to go and nothing worth seeing. Then Juster writes…

“He punctuated this last thought with such a deep sigh that a house sparrow singing nearby stopped and rushed home to be with his family.”

The sparrow is a complete departure from Milo’s boredom and just absurd enough to make us smile. A gentle surprise.

At home, Milo finds a package, “…not quite square…” but “…definitely not round…” with a big blue envelope addressed to him. After a number of suspenseful paragraphs—opening the strange box and assembling the contents—Milo has a tollbooth… “much like the tollbooths he’d seen many times on family trips, except of course it was much smaller and purple.”

After the suspenseful buildup, Juster drops the nonessential but surprising fact that the tollbooth is purple. And notice that in a long sentence of a long paragraph, “purple” is the last word.

So here’s the structure of surprise:

• Lead your reader intently down an expected path,

• Take a sharp turn.

• And never bury your surprise in the middle of a sentence.