Kathleen Mix's Blog, page 5

Tough Love

As an author, I create fictional characters I like. I want them to have good experiences and happy lives, just as I wish the best for real people I know and love. Yet in fiction, I must make characters’ lives difficult and give them big problems that lead to interesting and meaningful stories.

Most good stories involve an ordinary protagonist facing extraordinary circumstances or an extraordinary protagonist dealing with challenges limited only by the author’s imagination. The best stories let readers have exciting adventures vicariously, through the experiences of characters they admire, while demonstrating it’s possible to cope with adversity and grow in the process.

Fictional characters experience growth through coping with challenges. So a writer’s job is to create situations that help characters change. We must be hard on them, make them face misfortunes like the loss of a job or the loss of someone they love. We might make them the victim of a crime where they are injured or their child is kidnapped, not because we enjoy hurting them, but because we must. We force them to deal with a series of big or small conflicts, force them to question their values and beliefs. They overcome all obstacles, and by the end of the book, they’ve conquered their enemies, succeeded in their quest, found love or happiness, and reached a higher level of knowledge and maturity.

In my personal life, I’ve learned adversity makes us stronger. Over the years, I’ve been caught in vicious storms on a sailboat hundreds of miles from land. Sailing on the ocean, there is no way out. You don’t know how long the storm will last or if the wind and wave conditions will get worse. Panic isn’t an option. So you do what must be done to stay safe and keep your boat moving toward a secure port.

Under extreme conditions, I’ve learned a lot about who I am and found I could face more adversity than I would have believed.

Finding our inner courage and emerging victorious makes all of us better people, and fictional people are no exception.

I consider the challenges I give my protagonists a form of tough love. If my characters could talk, they might thank me. But probably not. We usually don’t enjoy the experiences that test our mettle.

Sometimes, parents must use tough love to teach children important lessons. My characters need to grow and earn their happy endings. So as the author who gave them life, I practice tough love too.

Leading with a Hook

This past weekend I signed books at the Hanover Book Festival in nearby Mechanicsville Virginia. I also presented a writers’ workshop on narrative hooks.

A narrative hook is the fascinating or intriguing opening of a novel that draws readers into the story. A good hook raises questions a reader wants answered, so they continue reading to find out who, why, what, or how.

Who is this interesting character? Why would he do something like that? What’s this all about? What will happen next? How could someone be murdered like that? Will this person get what she wants, succeed in her quest, find love, live or die?

One of my favorite opening lines is from A Theory of Relativity by Jacquelyn Mitchard.

She starts with:

They died instantly.

Those three words send readers off on a four-hundred-page search for answers and resolution.

I love the classic line from Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka:

As Gregor Samsa awoke one morning from uneasy dreams he found himself transformed in his bed into a giant insect.

Writers are often told to begin their story at a moment of change. Kafka must have taken that advice to heart.

Julia Harper let readers know from the start that Hot would be a fun and interesting read. She opened with:

In Turner Hastings’ opinion, the bank robbery didn’t go truly bad until Yoda shot out the skylight. Which was not to say that the robbery hadn’t had its problems up until that point.

When I’m browsing in a bookstore, titles and cover art draw my attention. If the back cover copy piques my interest, I turn to the first page. Like most readers, unless page one grabs me and pulls me into the story, I put the book down and look for something else.

My screening process is typical. So when I start my own books, I agonize over the first line, the first paragraph, and the first page. I spend weeks or months writing and rewriting my opening, hoping to create an intriguing hook.

My work-in-progress is no exception. After weeks without changing a word, I revised page one yesterday. Is my first line a keeper? Please tell me.

Are you intrigued by:

Death slithered into the bedroom, passed Simon Griswald by, and with fangs bared, inched toward the frail young woman on the bed.

Or should I continue hunting for a better hook?

Horror Stories

When I’m deep into writing the first draft of a manuscript, I shy away from reading other authors’ books. By not reading a novel, I avoid getting hooked by someone else’s plot or characters and minimize the risk of distraction.

But I love to read and, over the years, I’ve found that the best way to satisfy my need for fiction during my first draft, can’t-get-involved-in-books diets is to read short stories. In a short story, the plot concludes quickly, so I don’t have to lie awake overnight guessing at the ending. The characters may be interesting, but the length prevents me from forming too strong a bond and I can resist an emotional commitment.

My evening reading for the last week has consisted of stories from the collection Night Shift by Steven King. I’m not a fan of Mr. King’s horror novels. They’re too convincing, and his weird happenings tend to give me nightmares.

But his short stories are less frightening. That’s not to say they aren’t creepy, just that I don’t get as immersed in the story settings or scenarios and I can more easily rationalize: this is only fiction.

The stories in Night Shift are excellent examples of the depth of Mr. King’s talent. Contrary to what many non-writers believe, writing a good short story is difficult. The author must accomplish a lot in those two, three, or four thousand words. Characters must be introduced and made interesting and believable. A time and place have to be established. The plot must start quickly, develop steadily, and reach a satisfying – or terrifying – ending.

Most writers can more easily ramble on forever than be concise. They wander off on tangents, explain the details of every characters’ backstory, and generally, use thousands of words to accomplish what Mr. King can do in one paragraph.

Tonight I’ll be reading about the boogeyman. I’m happy to say he’ll probably go away after about twenty pages. Tomorrow, I’ll be able to concentrate on my own character’s fears.

Understanding Evil

When a story is about good triumphing over evil, the author must create an antagonist worthy of representing the forces of villainy, and occasionally write from that person’s viewpoint. I always find creating villains and getting inside their heads difficult.

Crime reading has taught me that villains don’t think they are bad. They believe their actions are justified. Sociopaths and psychopaths and serial killers all have valid reasons to torture and kill, at least from their point of view. In their eyes, their victims’ opinions, or the opinions of society, don’t count.

People who steal believe they are taking what they deserve in life, considering it rightfully theirs or rationalizing their actions based on the philosophy that the owner doesn’t need what they’ve taken or didn’t deserve to have it.

Most criminals also believe they are smarter than the average person and should not be limited by rules.

I find anchoring those ideas in my mind when I’m trying to think like a villain contrary to my personal beliefs. I hope that means badness doesn’t come to me naturally.

A few years ago, I had an experienced that brought the puzzle of how criminals think to the forefront of my mind. At that time, I had a garden near the road in front of my house where my plants would get the most sunshine. Each spring, I ordered a new Daylily variety to expand the garden and add contrasting color. My favorite of all the flowers was a clump of mahogany hybrids. They were unique and provided spice among the more common hues.

One morning when I went out to walk my dog, I found a hole in the ground where my favorite flowers had bloomed. Someone had brought a shovel, and under cover of darkness, parked by my garage, and dug up my plants.

I was in shock. To this day, I find it hard to believe someone could steal my flowers, plant them in their yard, and then take pleasure in watching them bloom knowing all the while they’d been stolen.

So, how can I imagine people capable of thinking murder is okay when I can’t understand premeditated petty larceny without guilt?

Villains need to be strong and smart and motivated. Whether their minds are twisted or simply on a divergent road, they have their own reasons and rationalizations for acting counter to the norms of society. But my biggest challenge in writing them is playing in the muck inside their heads.

Ripped from the Headlines

A traitor with a top-secret security clearance downloads and steals sensitive information in my July 2012 release, Deadly Memories. My hero is a cyber-security expert who must find the culprit before government secrets end up in the hands of our enemies.

My villain is not named Snowden. And my book was written and published long before the recent headlines.

But in light of the current focus on top-secret information and the people trusted with insider knowledge, other novels about security breaches and protagonists rushing to reclaim our country’s secrets are probably being written at this very moment. Some will deal with a traitor stealing secrets, some will feature government agencies run amok and a hero who risks all for the good of his fellow citizens, some will feature a man without a country wandering for the rest of his life, never able to trust or stop looking over his shoulder.

Another group of authors are probably working on books about murder trials. Some are about an innocent man unjustly accused of murder, some are about a guilty man trying to escape justice, some are tragedies about racial profiling and end with a young life cut short.

An author somewhere may be writing about a young girl who received a life saving lung transplant and went on to become President. Someone else is writing about how stress destroys or strengthens the family of a critically ill child. Someone is writing about a lawyer who fights for a sick child to get an organ transplant and, through his selfless pro bono efforts, wins the love of a woman who finally sees past his outer shell to the sensitive man he is inside.

The wonderful thing about books written in response to a headline is that no two will be alike. In the last three years, I’ve read four books about charismatic cult leaders who live in secluded compounds, practice polygamy, and marry under-aged girls. That one thread runs through each, but the stories are far from alike. Every author made the subject their own and took readers on a unique journey. A cult leader who made headlines may have sparked the ideas, but how each author expanded their idea into a story depended on that person’s interpretation of events, the way they view the people involved, and their individual beliefs and values.

If you want to write and are developing a plot catalyzed by a headline, go for it. If the topic excited reporters and held the public’s interest, then stretch your imagination and give it a unique spin. The book you write may be a best seller and part of a new headline.

Never Give Up

I’m lucky to be a writer and able to spend my days working at something I love. As a degreed engineer, I’ve had other careers. But although writing can be difficult, draining, and discouraging, I have no desire to go back to a nine-to-five, corporate job.

Transitioning into a writing career was far from easy. I wrote for several years before getting my work published, and in the beginning, had dozens of questions. But now, with six books in print, I finally know a few of the answers.

While teaching workshops, I often meet aspiring authors who ask what they should write about. My suggestions are based on my time attending the school of hard-knocks. I tell them to write about life and the issues and people they care about. To imagine solutions to the personal and political problems they’d like to solve. To pour out the words and ideas they need to have heard. Writing a book will consumes weeks or months of the author’s life. To stay engaged, they need to be excited about their topic. Not every idea is good fodder for fiction, but if a concept or character excites them, they should sit down and stretch their imagination. The best books result when a seed idea is nourished and given room to grow into a viable plot.

When students in my workshops ask how to get published, I can offer other words of advice. Be stubborn. Don’t give up. Write every day. Don’t expect overnight success.

Writing doesn’t require a degree or a license; would-be authors don’t have to pass a physical test. They need a command of language, an understanding of grammar, and a familiarity with story structure. But the biggest requirement is passing a test of desire and determination. Successful writers have a strong will to write and enjoy the creative process. And most importantly, they never give up.

A wanna-be writer will never finish a book or get published if he or she quits writing at the first rejection or hint of adversity. But if a person has a deep desire and need to write and refuses to accept defeat, they have a good chance of someday seeing their words in print.

I’m not foolish enough to believe that, even after several years of writing, I have all the answers. But I am certain about one thing: by holding tight to the dream, a determined writer who is excited about their story can experience the great joy of working at something they love.

Truth or Consequences

Fiction succeeds when readers are willing to suspend their disbelief and accept the possibility that the story before them could happen as told. When details are logical and convincing on page one and every page thereafter, we feel the author can be trusted to tell the truth. Even if we’re reading about astronauts exploring a distant planet five hundred years in the future, a well-written book that conforms to the laws of physics, follows the principles of science, and reinforces what we know about human nature allows us to believe that, if we traveled to that planet, the events would be possible and the characters might act as described.

Fiction fails when authors lie, either intentionally or due to a lack of research, and lose our trust. If they tell us the moon was full on Monday night and null on Wednesday, we roll our eyes. We know the truth: fourteen days must pass before a full moon will wane completely and give way to a new moon. We recognize the author’s false facts and begin questioning the rest of his or her words.

If she tells us her protagonist is a couch potato, and then he suddenly does something we find implausible, like swimming the English Channel, we huff out our breath and mutter, “Right. And I’m Michael Phelps.”

The author has destroyed our acceptance of the story. The magic bubble that supports fiction is broken, and we’re no longer willing to suspend our disbelief.

New writers who manipulate the truth to force events in their work often suffer the consequences of reader lack of trust. Critique partners, beta readers, and editors tell them their story isn’t believable. The book or manuscript languishes and dies.

Experienced writers build their stories on a strong foundation of fact. Their hurricanes don’t strike Washington, D.C. in February. When they say the moon is full, it doesn’t set at midnight. When they show us the protagonist working off his frustrations by swimming laps in a pool on page one, we’re willing to believe he could succeed at swimming across a mile-wide river on page two hundred. We nod and think: that’s the way life is, something like that could happen.

Writers often stretch the limits of plausibility in the name of a better story. Those who are successful pull us into their fictional world by presenting a situation that is credible. They gain our trust. And when an author gains our trust, we believe scientists can grow dinosaurs from DNA, we believe secret cults exist within the Catholic Church, we believe ghosts and vampires roam among us. We’re ready, willing, and eager to suspend our disbelief.

Loving Neologisms

As a writer, I have a deep-seated love of words. I spend endless minutes with my dictionary and thesaurus spread on my desk while I compare subtle differences in meanings and connotations and search for that one perfect word.

When I read other author’s work, especially sci-fi or fantasy, I enjoy finding neologisms – new words or word combos that the author has created. Before J. K. Rowlings created muggle, quidditch, and quaffle, they weren’t part of our vocabulary. Before some unknown journalist or commentator coined Bradgelina and bridezilla, we didn’t hear them ad nauseam.

Some of these words are fun, and I’m sure the creator smiled and felt a jolt of pride when the new word jumped into their mind. Some are simply the shortening of a phrase or two-word term. Some were undoubtedly the product of hours of brainstorming. Combining two words for the best flow and in the most-catchy order is probably a daunting task. People who can imagine new words are truly artists.

Regardless of how they were created, new words are assimilated into our vocabulary every day. No one had ever heard of a robot or cyberspace until sci-fi writers coined the terms. Who’d ever heard of the verb to google before the advent of the internet (or the coinage of the word internet)?

The level of a book’s success influences how many people see the word and adopt its usage. But each word contributes to the total book, and an author’s word choice is representative of their writing style and level of craft. When writers create crazy, multi-syllable, consonant filled words we can’t pronounce, those words fade into obscurity. But the book probably faded into obscurity too. Writers who make us trip over ill-conceived words are probably also prone to building awkward sentences.

But when writers consider the word candidate carefully, roll it over their tongue, use the right accents and tone, and give us a letter combo that sparks an image in our mind, we embrace its ingenuity, want to use it ourselves, and adopt it as part of our language. We enjoy the book in which we discovered the word and are likely to make that book a bestseller, because the author has taken equal care with every other word he or she put on the page.

Have you heard or read a great new word lately? Please comment and share.

If you’re a word creator, keep up the good work. I’ll be smiling when I read or hear your contribution to my dictionary.

Magic in the Details

Every book needs a well-structured plot and interesting characters, but often the difference between a good book and a wonderful book is in the details. When the author chooses the perfect details to compliment a setting or mood, our reading experience is enriched.

The perfect details are those appropriate to one particular story.

If a room needs a lamp, just any lamp won’t do. Is it a floor lamp or desk lamp, utilitarian or ornate? Is the base stenciled with pink rosebuds or in the shape of a ceramic elephant? Is the lamp new or an antique? Is it a hand-me-down or was it a wedding gift from a favorite aunt? When turned on, does it throw a bright, glaring light or produce ominous shadows that fit well with a feeling of suspense? Would the character in your story own such a lamp?

All these details won’t, and should not, be included in the text. But an author chooses the perfect details by knowing his or her characters and story, and the world she’s created, intimately. And when that’s the case, the lamp mentioned in the story will fit perfectly into the scene.

When the scarred old lamp with the frayed cord that a heroine purchased at a flea market because she’s broke and out of work blinks on and off and then leaves her in the dark in the midst of a storm, we find the darkness believable. Of course that old lamp was unreliable, that’s why it was so cheap.

But we understand she couldn’t afford anything better and still have money to buy food for her child. We know she is willing to put up with an occasional episode of darkness. Plus we’re fond of the lamp. It’s special. She had one exactly like it as a child, and it reminds her of happy days when she had parents who read her bedtime stories and loved her.

Too bad the lamp cutting out kept her from seeing the slightly open window and the shadow of the man on the fire escape.

But wait. The apartment complex’s security guard, who saw her bringing the lamp home and offered to repair the wiring, notices her windows have gone dark. That lamp was a fire hazard and could burn down the whole building. Maybe he should stop by with his flashlight and fix it. He could at least check to make sure she was okay. He’s been looking for an excuse to get to know her better.

The lamp fits the scene. If it had been new, we’d question why it would blink. We’d expect it to be reliable, and find the incident less believable. The security guard would have no valid reason to knock on the heroine’s door. We’d never know about the special lamp that had brightened our heroine’s childhood.

The type of lamp a character should own is not a choice a thoughtful author will make lightly. No detail is too small to not be considered carefully. The perfect details can weave magic.

Research Pitfalls

Beginning writers are often advised to write about what they know. In the Internet age, knowledge about a subject is rarely a problem. An author can learn about almost any subject by spending a few hours in serious research.

But the results of doing research can expose a writer to two large pitfalls.

First, if the subject is complex and/or fascinating, the research can become a reason (read: excuse) to put off writing. Day after day, the research data accumulates, but the word count of the manuscript remains static. Days can stretch to weeks, weeks to months, and still the procrastinating writer follows more links and learns every possible detail about their chosen subject.

The second pitfall results from the volume of information the writer’s research reveals. Finding the data she’s collected fascinating, and hating to feel her time has been wasted on useless research, the writer is tempted to include too much in her story.

I recently read a suspense novel by a bestselling author who fell into that trap. She included long passages of background information on Nascar that the reader didn’t need. Wanting the story to move on and bored by the encyclopedic presentation, I skipped over the history lesson. The inclusion of that data slowed the pacing of a good story and tarnished my opinion of that author’s work.

The moral of this post: Do the research you need, but remember that writers write. And no matter how interesting the facts you find might be, if they don’t add some value to the story, leave them out.