Amanda Frederickson's Blog: Musings - Posts Tagged "middles"
And Suddenly I Have a Blog
Cue mad scientist music.
So, 2013 was supposed to be working on middles, but middles don't happen without beginnings. (Funny thing, that. Even if you jump into the middle of action, it's still a beginning.)
Will this blog actually have something worth saying?
That's what middles are for.
So, 2013 was supposed to be working on middles, but middles don't happen without beginnings. (Funny thing, that. Even if you jump into the middle of action, it's still a beginning.)
Will this blog actually have something worth saying?
That's what middles are for.
The Payoff
Think about your job. Love it or hate it, why do you work at your job?
Let’s face it, even if you adore what you do and can’t wait to bounce out of bed in the morning to go do it, what separates a job from a hobby is that little thing that comes in periodically as a tangible representation of the worth of your work: a paycheck.
If it came in at half what you expected, you would be pretty hopping mad. You would feel cheated. On the other hand, if it turned out to be twice as much as expected, boy, can we say glee? I don’t know about you, but I’d be doing some dancing.
I recently got hooked on a Korean historical drama (bear with me) and it does a fabulous job with cliffhanger endings for each episode. In the last few moments, there is always a dramatic twist or a face we haven’t seen in a while that promises trouble for our heroine, or the villain reveals a new dastardly scheme…. But. After the first few episodes, those little dramatic hints and implied promises didn’t really go anywhere. Schemes fizzled, faces disappeared again or weren’t recognized. It started getting boring. There was no payoff.
Then finally after twenty episodes, the carefully stacked house of cards has its entire foundation whipped out from under it, reducing our heroine to a wailing wreck, questioning her entire life’s purpose. Now we’re getting somewhere!
How many people are willing to wait twenty episodes (adding up to more than twenty hours, because those suckers are long!) for a plot to move forward?
Granted, the biggest payoff should be the ending or anything else will seem anticlimactic. But there should be movement in the middle too. Fulfilling smaller promises, like the cliffhanger endings, shows that the bigger promise (the ending) will also be fulfilled. If those promises are left hanging, you start wondering what you’re hanging around for.
And what about that ending? Have you ever gotten to the end of a book and said, “What? That’s it?” I know you have. I’ve been known to throw a book across the room, or at least to the floor. (Though these days I’m trying to break the habit since e-readers are more delicate than paperbacks.) For one reason or another, the paycheck wasn’t enough.
When I finished the first draft of my book Keystone, my beta readers gave me the same complaint in surround sound. There was a certain conflict I didn’t resolve in the framework of book one. They wanted that promise fulfilled now! So I did. I went back and added an entire component to the ending and I even played in another little twist that will have ramifications later. The result was a more satisfying ending and happy readers – always the most important part. Happy readers are my payoff.
Readers pick up a book for the implicit promise of a payoff. It’s the paycheck at the end of that 900 page fantasy epic, the whodunit at the end of the mystery, the culmination of the romantic relationship, the answer to the question, “What happens now?” The medal ceremony at the end of Star Wars, Neo in command of his abilities at the end of The Matrix, and mumblemumble*spoilers* in the Hunger Games.
Without a payoff at the end, the book is seeing airtime. Without smaller payoffs in the middle, the book is set down and forgotten. I think that might be worse.
Let’s face it, even if you adore what you do and can’t wait to bounce out of bed in the morning to go do it, what separates a job from a hobby is that little thing that comes in periodically as a tangible representation of the worth of your work: a paycheck.
If it came in at half what you expected, you would be pretty hopping mad. You would feel cheated. On the other hand, if it turned out to be twice as much as expected, boy, can we say glee? I don’t know about you, but I’d be doing some dancing.
I recently got hooked on a Korean historical drama (bear with me) and it does a fabulous job with cliffhanger endings for each episode. In the last few moments, there is always a dramatic twist or a face we haven’t seen in a while that promises trouble for our heroine, or the villain reveals a new dastardly scheme…. But. After the first few episodes, those little dramatic hints and implied promises didn’t really go anywhere. Schemes fizzled, faces disappeared again or weren’t recognized. It started getting boring. There was no payoff.
Then finally after twenty episodes, the carefully stacked house of cards has its entire foundation whipped out from under it, reducing our heroine to a wailing wreck, questioning her entire life’s purpose. Now we’re getting somewhere!
How many people are willing to wait twenty episodes (adding up to more than twenty hours, because those suckers are long!) for a plot to move forward?
Granted, the biggest payoff should be the ending or anything else will seem anticlimactic. But there should be movement in the middle too. Fulfilling smaller promises, like the cliffhanger endings, shows that the bigger promise (the ending) will also be fulfilled. If those promises are left hanging, you start wondering what you’re hanging around for.
And what about that ending? Have you ever gotten to the end of a book and said, “What? That’s it?” I know you have. I’ve been known to throw a book across the room, or at least to the floor. (Though these days I’m trying to break the habit since e-readers are more delicate than paperbacks.) For one reason or another, the paycheck wasn’t enough.
When I finished the first draft of my book Keystone, my beta readers gave me the same complaint in surround sound. There was a certain conflict I didn’t resolve in the framework of book one. They wanted that promise fulfilled now! So I did. I went back and added an entire component to the ending and I even played in another little twist that will have ramifications later. The result was a more satisfying ending and happy readers – always the most important part. Happy readers are my payoff.
Readers pick up a book for the implicit promise of a payoff. It’s the paycheck at the end of that 900 page fantasy epic, the whodunit at the end of the mystery, the culmination of the romantic relationship, the answer to the question, “What happens now?” The medal ceremony at the end of Star Wars, Neo in command of his abilities at the end of The Matrix, and mumblemumble*spoilers* in the Hunger Games.
Without a payoff at the end, the book is seeing airtime. Without smaller payoffs in the middle, the book is set down and forgotten. I think that might be worse.
Late Bloomer
Ten days into Camp Nanowrimo. Rose is barely past the opening. Not a promising start.
Something is getting bogged down and I can't put my finger on it. Did I start in the wrong place? Did I change too much from the original concept? Is the pacing wrong? Is there something else getting in the way?
I don't know. I think I'm going to push pause today, do some reading, then do some digging and see if I can find the root of the slow start. Maybe I just need to start from the middle and come back to the opening. That's the beauty of rough drafts, you can always come back and fix it. Sometimes that's the hardest part about rough drafts for me, because I don't want to come back and fix it - I want it perfect on the page. This doesn't happen.
Something is getting bogged down and I can't put my finger on it. Did I start in the wrong place? Did I change too much from the original concept? Is the pacing wrong? Is there something else getting in the way?
I don't know. I think I'm going to push pause today, do some reading, then do some digging and see if I can find the root of the slow start. Maybe I just need to start from the middle and come back to the opening. That's the beauty of rough drafts, you can always come back and fix it. Sometimes that's the hardest part about rough drafts for me, because I don't want to come back and fix it - I want it perfect on the page. This doesn't happen.
Deadlines and Doom
"I like deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by." - Douglas Adams
I don't particularly like the sounds of deadlines whooshing by, but I seem to be hearing them a lot lately.
There's a persistent little cheerleader in the back of my head insisting that Kingstone can still be finished by the 21st. Finished? Maybe. Presentable? Not likely. Just the other day I found a place where Charlie was filing miserably when she should have been failing. Yeah. I haven't given the manuscript to my readers yet.
Whoosh.
Apparently I was being even more idealistic than I thought when I set June 21st as the tentative release date. I also didn't realize at the time that Kingstone would end up needing the most wholesale changes of any manuscript I've ever written (seven full length ones so far). I don't think there's more than a handful of paragraphs left of the original draft, and only chunks out of the second one.
Funny enough, working on Kingstone this week has been going smashingly. I'm really pleased with how it's shaping up and what's been coming out on the page. It's just not going to be done by this Friday.
So. Question of the week. Have I written the Ending of Doom?
Erm. Hm. Not yet. By the end of the week? Possibly. I'm dancing around it.
A while back on Facebook I saw a link to a list titled Top Ten "Puppy-Kick" Moments in Doctor Who. Not literally puppy-kicking, but meaning those gut-wrenching twists that make you feel like curling up and bawling for a while.
I'm planning at least two of those.
They're in my head. I have the scenes laid out. I haven't put the words on the page. I don't like kicking puppies, even if it's for a reason. (Nee-chan would argue and say I do it too often.)
Death happens. So does loss and separation. It doesn't mean we have to like it. The good news here is that this book isn't the end. There's another one coming, but you have to get through the middle to reach the end.
(Random trivia: Douglas Adams wrote a few scripts for the classic Doctor Who series. I wonder what they thought of his philosophy regarding deadlines.)
I don't particularly like the sounds of deadlines whooshing by, but I seem to be hearing them a lot lately.
There's a persistent little cheerleader in the back of my head insisting that Kingstone can still be finished by the 21st. Finished? Maybe. Presentable? Not likely. Just the other day I found a place where Charlie was filing miserably when she should have been failing. Yeah. I haven't given the manuscript to my readers yet.
Whoosh.
Apparently I was being even more idealistic than I thought when I set June 21st as the tentative release date. I also didn't realize at the time that Kingstone would end up needing the most wholesale changes of any manuscript I've ever written (seven full length ones so far). I don't think there's more than a handful of paragraphs left of the original draft, and only chunks out of the second one.
Funny enough, working on Kingstone this week has been going smashingly. I'm really pleased with how it's shaping up and what's been coming out on the page. It's just not going to be done by this Friday.
So. Question of the week. Have I written the Ending of Doom?
Erm. Hm. Not yet. By the end of the week? Possibly. I'm dancing around it.
A while back on Facebook I saw a link to a list titled Top Ten "Puppy-Kick" Moments in Doctor Who. Not literally puppy-kicking, but meaning those gut-wrenching twists that make you feel like curling up and bawling for a while.
I'm planning at least two of those.
They're in my head. I have the scenes laid out. I haven't put the words on the page. I don't like kicking puppies, even if it's for a reason. (Nee-chan would argue and say I do it too often.)
Death happens. So does loss and separation. It doesn't mean we have to like it. The good news here is that this book isn't the end. There's another one coming, but you have to get through the middle to reach the end.
(Random trivia: Douglas Adams wrote a few scripts for the classic Doctor Who series. I wonder what they thought of his philosophy regarding deadlines.)
