Rhys Stalba-Smith's Blog

It’s All Character…

“…They were brought through the story, rather than lived through it…”

The running theme in these last posts have pertained to the writing of characters. And as this is kind of a journalistic approach to blogging, hell, I’ma continue!

I’ve come to realise that the stories I love the most are marriages of great characters doing great things. The great things aren’t always great of course. But in essence, a plot heavy novel, or action packed thriller, is only as good as the characters going through it.

This discovery came from my change of pants-ing it so much. Unconsciously or not, that was always my issue when beginning a novel or story in the ole pants days. I had to find the motivation and backstory, the context of the character in their life, to start a good one. Sometimes this is given in a line, or something happening to the character, but ultimately it always felt like the best characters offered more of their life than what was contained in the pages.

I don’t necessarily need world building and history dating back to their days of yore, but what creates the tantalising yearning to know more is the potential of knowing more. Hinting at a grander history, or worser period, always begs the question to the reader. Which is also the art in of itself of writing, giving the reader what they need.

I’m not even going to pretend like I realized that. I was slapped in the face with that wisdom nugget by Victoria Lynn Schmidt. Give the reader what they need, not what the reader wants.

Such a great piece of advice almost seems obvious from the outside, once you’ve pulled your head up off the pavement. But it is true, and in getting swept up in the writing journey, sometimes it’s easy to forget that we’re writing for those other than ourself. That’s not to say I don’t write for myself, nor does it mean I write purely for others either, I think a want like that stems from understanding.

We’ve all written pieces where our story fell flat, our characters were stiff and wooden, the set pieces unbelievable (in the worst sense possible), and it comes back to not thinking of the reader. Not thinking of the suspension of disbelief. I can’t remember who said that either.

But out of all of that, I think what helps the suspension, as well as the belief in the story, is the character going through the story. And a character that feels more like someone we know and believe in is going to read better than a stencil.

So that is my goal. To write better characters and put them in better scenarios. That is the true benefit of my plotting endeavours that I’ve learned in outlining. When I pantsed, I wrote better characters but struggled with the overall thing everyone was doing. With outlining I’ve managed to see worlds possible and find ways to bring those characters through it, yet that was maybe the problem, they were brought through the story, rather than lived through it.

All in all I’m excited to always be learning and writing, sharing and growing. Writing is something exciting because it’s like being an archaeologist and painter at the same time, who is also listening to the microphone feed in his headset as he squints through a camera.

Who’d a thought?

[image error]

Character Defining Moments

I suppose this works in tandem with the decisive moment, but maybe a better definition between the two would ‘Before and After’ moments.

I’ve read this a plethora of times in various works, but I guess it didn’t click until I read it in that form above.

These moments come about in the character’s wound or scar, their dark history or just plain old history. It is a moment that makes them them.

Often these moments are hardships or sorrows, but I think the possibility of it being any true moment that affects the character to make it much more interesting. We’ve all had our lives changes better or worse because of this. But being aware of these moments in our own lives better enables us to use them in our character’s lives.

I believe this can then offer multiple moments in a story that we remember.

I’ve been obsessing lately with trying to inject meaning into my story and characters. Big plotty scenes full of excitement are always better with meaning attached.

Why else would the chubby kid build up the nerve to ask out their dream partner?

The hero/heroine sacrifice themselves?

Someone tell the truth when lying would be better?

Or a person reveal themselves without the allure of perfection?

This rook only just discovered so, maybe that’s my moment?

Who’d a thought?

[image error]

Decisions and character

The decisive points of a story are decisive for a reason, it’s when the character made the decision to act!

What an epiphany that was! I felt like such a fool once I realised the weight of those words, and it wasn’t that long ago…

But it is a true statement. I’ve come to start viewing act finale/climax/turn’s as decisive points in the story. Obviously this leads more to a character driven story, where the major happenings cause the character to change their mind. But nonetheless I like it.

I read the gist of this idea in Tobias’ 20 Major Plots. It’s got some killer nuggets for sure, wisdom that passes quickly and disappears. Fleeting ideas that grasp like water. But the best bit is his view of story.

There’s only two.

Stories of the body.

Stories of the mind.

Mind-fucking-blowing. Think about it. And he’s riffing off of that from Dante’s Inferno. The stages of Hell and its levels.

I will in no way do it justice.

BUT…

That’s not why we’re here. We’re talking about decisions. And that’s the best thing for character driven work, it’s their mind that’s changing. But I figure you can marry the idea of a action driving plot and a character one by the understanding of decision. The driving of the climaxes and major scenes will always change a mind. Maybe the Uber character isn’t real after all? Maybe Superman isn’t so hard to write if you take away his powers? He’s a man after all.

What an unlocking screw.

Of course Robert McKee said this in Story too, but I guess I didn’t get it until I got it.

It’s interesting though that with writing and the craft, the more you learn the more tools you get. I think that maybe when we browse the writing section in any bookstore we see the ‘How to write…’, ‘The definitive guide to…’, and we think there’s only one way.

But in fact there’s may ways. There’s a way for every person. Because I can’t not think of Dan O’Bannon’s ideas of story and conflict without pairing it to the aforementioned theories.

The story is driven by conflict. Conflict is driven by the characters. The characters are driven by the decisions they make, or don’t.

Makes a little too much sense to me, know what I’m saying?

But it’s an effective tool because (I’ve crapped on a bit here), you can define the conflict anyway you want. You have your inciting incident, your setup/catalyst/Act 1 Climax, whatever you want to call it, and you’ve got the crux of what is going to play out in the next pages.

Whatever happens at the deciding point is a decision.

Well what constitutes the next parts? The next climaxes? The views to and for, against and with, the ideas evolving that initial decision that will ultimately lead to the ENDING.

I like it.

I guess it could be Answering the Call and all that. What matters is this chump of a writer understands it.

Which means everyone else can too.

Who’d a thought?

[image error]

Don’t worry about Show vs Tell

That’s right I said it! I click baited you!

But I also think there’s some truth in it, understanding it properly, that is.

All my writing career, every book you pick up on the craft, and on every damn list of ‘How to…’ pertaining to writing has the ole Show vs Tell. And it is true, we should show our readers the world rather than beat them to death with words.

But it’s also a tricky phrase to understand, because aren’t we technically doing the same thing? While one version may be a bit more exciting in readability, yes, we technically are achieving the same result. But why is something so important so hard to define?

It’s a killer catch phrase like smoke and mirrors… and operates in the same way.

It’s a slippery fish.

You as a writer want to strive for clarity and purpose in your writing. The purpose being showing what the character is doing, or how the world is, as succinctly as possible.

But where my understanding shifted was when taking the idea of ‘show’ to mean more than the singular sense. We are literal animals and people after all so saying ‘show’ means well I better show ‘em! Yet show means more than that. It’s the full bouquet of senses and ideas. We want our readers to feel what’s being shown. We want what’s being shown to exert a response. At least that’s my understanding of it.

Hell, does the writer that coined it even get it? Or was it a private joke that went to big? Like the old thirty drafts line…

The thing was Show vs Tell, is it frustrated the crap out of writers because we then see other writers publishing a complete trainwreck of words that somehow make a sentence, mesh with a few others, accidental into a paragraph, then form a story. We think, I’m better than that? Surely… and you might be.

I might be worse, or better, or equal.

I always understood Show vs Tell as a defining metric of either You got it kid, or Ya don’t.

We think those that have a grip on this weapon surely must wield gold. But understanding and utilising Show vs Tell (how many times can I write it in the damn article?) doesn’t necessarily equate literary gold.

When I understood writing, that golden rule aforementioned, and how to get out of the race of comparison, was when I realised it was important what the reader saw.

Now I realise how stupid I sound there, so I’m gonna repeat it. The book is only as good as what the reader sees and perceives and feels.

Whether it’s crap, whether it’s gold, self-published or traditional, if the reader felt something during the story and saw it all, then it’s fine.

At the end of the day each of us are trying to convey what is in our soul onto the page and into someone else’s heart via words. It’s lofty. It feels powerful and dare I say godlike. It’s very easy to tip the scales with pressure and under, or overly, inflated self belief.

All because it means something to us. ‘It’s deep shit man. That’s me your reading’.

But maybe the process of stepping back a little can help you see. Take the telescope off the eye and stop looking for the treasure and see the island.

I gotta do it and I’m a rookie. Can you imagine having a team, an advance, pressure to follow up a bestseller? Forgetaboutitson!

Viewing writing as a trade changed my view. Stepping back and understanding what the reader sees and feels made it less personal, so that it could be more personal. Now whether my writing achieves that is another story, but the attempt is there!

Show vs Tell is a true rule that should be adhered to… but if you don’t get it that’s cool too. Follow your gut and just try and get what’s in your head on the page.

Write about the laser sighted crocodile’s in the river patrolling the creaky old shed with it’s swinging door. Sitting just on the flood line and at the end of a fifty metre mud pit.

All that matters is that people enjoy your ideas.

Who’d a thought?

[image error]

The Writing Gut Compass

I recently pulled back on an idea and didn’t pull the trigger on beginning writing the story. It had nothing to do with perfectionism or self-confidence, my writing gut compass was telling me not to proceed.

Something was off.

Something just didn’t feel right…

I’m glad I listened.

As an ex-Pantser, I’ve found the world of plotting to be a welcome change. Idea execution and and general story processes have improved immensely. I find the story side of my ideas more compelling and full, characters too feel more rounded. But I believe those same improvements still stem from their beginnings in pants-ing.

What my experience as a pantser has taught me is to ‘feel’ a story.

While a story can be ready to go, hit all the beats, nail all the acts, have compelling goals and motivations for each character, I have also felt how the planning of plotting can satisfy the logical brain. It’s fun to plot and plan. It’s satiating because things are justified. But even with all boxes ticked we must be weary.

What pantsing taught me was just as invaluable as what it couldn’t do. Because pantsing allows us to write with intuition and emotion without the scaffold. It may be a slower process, but I think in some ways it’s a deeper one. We rely on curiosity alone to find our story.

That’s not to take away the curiosity in plotting, or the discovery in planning out our ideas. I think they actually pair well.

Writing countless short and long stories off the cuff gave me a strong inner compass. It showed me how to see. Plotting has given the addition of map reading, yet seeing is still just as important. But it’s the push and pull of both that has come to make me a stronger writer.

Why?

Because an idea can come quick, and with some quick planning, can be turned into a fully fledged idea. Without writing the book until getting stuck, or discovering after 80K words that you’ve hit the ditch, the story can be felt to be a good one or not.

Or whether the right character is in the right place.

Which is what stopped me from pulling the trigger recently.

I realised the wrong character was the protagonist, and the much more interesting option had introduced themselves in the planning stages.

It changed everything.

It altered a lot of the panning not just for the novel, but the entire series…

But it’s for the better. And I think it’s a goodie. Because even if no one reads it, I’m sure as shit gonna enjoy writing it!

Who’d a thought?

[image error]

The ‘Catch’ in an Inciting Incident

Just as our protagonist’s ‘catch’ want is destined to fail, so to is a child catching a bubble.

Writing theory is a buffet of choice and should be treated as such!

I recently heard about Jill Chamberlain’s Nutshell Technique. There’s plenty of interesting facets to it and overall is quite good at getting the nutshell of an idea ‘there’, but the part that intrigued me most was the catch in her structure.

What’s the catch?

‘The Catch’ is your protagonist getting their opening want. So rather than the protagonist getting their over arching want, it’s an opening goal which pertains to their flaw. They get what they want… but it’s nowhere really as good as they hoped.

For example, let’s say Carl wants to earn more money at his job, he’s sick of going unnoticed. But he can’t build up the courage to ask for a raise because ultimately he hates confrontation. Instead he searches endlessly for other jobs where he can earn more money. Just as he’s at his wit’s end, and his work quality has slipped somewhat, the ‘best’ job comes available.

It’s better money than his current job.He’s qualified.He nails the interview — convincing the interview panel of his dedication to the job.

And here’s the catch…

He rocks up for his first day to find that his new boss is the Devil himself. He now works at Hell inc. He’s just sold his soul…

Catch in context

The idea above isn’t too exciting just yet. It’s a good idea of a switch up, and it may have nothing to do with the larger story itself too.

But it’s interesting during the start.

Sometimes it’s so easy to get caught up in our book’s large idea we forget that the scenes and chapters also have to be interesting on their own.

In Carl’s case, the reason why he wanted to earn more money is never discussed. Maybe he had a sick partner, parent, friend? Maybe he had debts to cover? The deal with the Devil becomes just another conflict that he has to deal with in his adventure of misfortune that will ultimately lead him to overcoming his fear of confrontation. Maybe…

This is the thing with story. We can tell any story that comes to mind. The problem with ‘anything stories’, and low stakes goals and wants, is that it leads to lackluster stories. Ultimately what we crave in a story is substance. The deeper glimpse at the character’s person.

Why the catch is important

Which is why the catch is important, it pertains to their flaw. They get a win, but ultimately there’s a cost. They traded an opportunity at a bigger win for an easy one.

Carl got the perfect job… with the devil. Rather than stand up for himself at his current job and earn what he’s owed. Not always possible in the real world, but stories of hope foster belief in our own lives.

Catches and hooks in books become memorable moments for us to recognise in our own lives.

The opportunity for a character to be better isn’t just for the character, as humans, it’s also for us too.

[image error]

The ‘catch’ in an Inciting Incident

Writing theory is a buffet of choice and should be treated as such!

I recently heard about Jill Chamberlain’s Nutshell Technique. There’s plenty of interesting facets to it and overall is quite good at getting the nutshell of an idea ‘there’, but the part that intrigued me most was the catch in her structure.

What is the catch?

It is the protagonist getting their opening want. Rather than the protagonist getting a over arching want, it’s an opening want that pertains to their flaw. They get what they want, but it’s nowhere really as good as they hoped.

For example, let’s say Carl wants to earn more money at his job, he’s sick of going unnoticed. But he can’t build up the courage to ask for a raise, he hates confrontation. Instead he searches endlessly for other jobs. Just as he’s at his wits end the best job comes available.

It’s better money than his current job.

He’s qualified.

He nails the interview, convincing the interview board of his dedication to the job advertised.

But here’s the catch.

He rocks up for his first day to find that his new boss is the Devil himself. He now works at Hell inc. He’s just sold his soul…

A standard idea, but it creates intrigue no less. We didn’t even add intriguing back story either!

But it is a great technique to keep in the toolbox.

Who’d a thought?

[image error]

Knower’s Block pt 2

There’s a flipside to knower’s block that’s worth mentioning, and it’s better defined as Needing versus Wanting.

Needing an idea versus wanting an idea is a risky game. The temptation of Knower’s block is wanting to know it all. Whether you’re a plotter, pantser or plantster/plotster you can get sucked down the rabbit hole of needing to know everything about the story.

Now needing to know and wanting to know are only slightly different in meaning, but no less important in their distinction.

It comes down to results.

Needing to know the idea and all of its intricacies begins to hinge on the story being right, and good, and the best thing ever…The list goes on. Suddenly the story takes on a pressure and importance beyond curiosity.

Which is the clue to having gone off the beaten track.

Instead, you may have another idea percolating in the back of your mind. You’re slowly tinkering with, playing with the ideas. There’s no attachment or pressure. The ideas click seamlessly and you’re pretty chuffed with it when they do, thinking to yourself ‘Hey, this idea’s starting to look pretty good too’. You want to know more, and are pretty curious to the process, but you’re in no rush. There’s no pressure.

I speak of these ideas having done both, written stories from both, hated both, loved both, and with knowing certainty, will do it again.

It’s part of the process of getting excited for an idea. It’s part of the process of a story failing and succeeding. We need to experience both with a story or idea because it is that excitement that lets us know if it’s got legs, or a spark.

But it’s also the urge to push on when we know we should step back, that needs to be learned.

The same passion that fuels a project can also become the blinding light to a lopsided project. You know, those wicked ideas that have skipped leg day and don’t stand on much other than the big scenes that are deep, and awesome, and completely necessary to make the story… They just lack any real character meaning, emotional content, or most importantly, conflict.

Before I ramble on too much I’ll cap it here with the idea that the purpose of understanding Knower’s block is really becoming curios to the idea and project. And by maintaining curiosity without the pressure of results, we can find a better story.

But this is me, you should, and probably will, find your way.

Who’d a thought?

[image error]

It’s Knower’s Block, not Writer’s Block

Obviously in my humble opinion.

I’ve been writing for ten years, I stumbled on that aphorism above by myself. Now knowing more of the world, and all the other obvious sources that have quoted similar ideas and beliefs, looking at Seth Godinor the ole Morning Pages from Julia Cameron. I see how global the idea is, but it’s no less important to realise it within oneself.

Knower’s Block. Not, Writer’s Block.

So what do I mean?

I guess it’s an amalgamation of many ideas. Like Seth Godin’s Talker’s Block, and the Morning Pages, it’s a confidence builder. In my opinion.

Obviously some writer’s are battling with confidence issues and the writing part isn’t necessarily a block in the ability to writer or convey a story, it’s a lack of confidence in expressing oneself. That is fine too. It’s a challenge to overcome, but one no less impossible because of it’s existence.

How I approached Writer’s Block was like this: I didn’t want to have it. I was gonna be pro. I was gonna write. I hated the story of “I stare at a blank page for eight hours and blah”. I thought it was fluff. I thought it was BS. And in a way it is, it’s also expressing that maybe in that eight hours pages got written and then deleted too.

But to work against this, I used the belief of both the writer’s mentioned above (unknowingly), and created my own shield against the cursed WB.

It came from stream of conscious writing. For five minutes straight I wrote everything that came to mind. Whether it was a story, journalling, shopping lists, or just words to keep listing. The thing is once a minute, five, ten, was up. I wanted to do more. Because I’d proved that I could write despite the lack of ‘story’ or ‘idea’.

So I kept going.

I wrote for ten minutes, then thirty, then an hour, then two… Eventually I built up to writing for three hours. WHATEVER came out. Sometimes it was story, sometimes it was crap, but all times it was writing.

So then it wasn’t Writer’s Block.

It was Knower’s Block.

That distinction has helped me out of a hole more times than I can count.

Why? Because it begots the question ‘What am I doing?’, or ‘What is the character doing?’.

Maybe ‘What does the story need?’

It’s helped me to know when a story has legs or not too.

So rather than me keep rambling, try it out, or not. These are just my opinions on how I dealt with it. We’re all writers and we’re all different. But maybe before a writer we should be curious to the process.

Who’d a thought?

[image error]

Thought a Day & Confident Writing

Well I’ve decided it’s easier to see thoughts and decipher them than think them and catalogue… who’d a thought.

This here blog is me understanding my own thoughts on writing, nothing more nothing less. Grammer more grammar less too…

My first thoughts are on what I call confident writing. What is that to me?

Confident writing is taking out the hesitation in the wording.

What do I mean? Well I noticed it in my own works, compared to the pro’s when I’d copy out their books. Word for word, phrase for phrase, and sentence for sentence. I stole that from Hunter S. Thompson’s dairies. But what is the hesitation?

For me it was the ‘he quietly snuck…’, or ‘she weakly tried to…’, whatever the character was doing was doing it hesitantly. Not as in the actual character was hesitating or weak in their action, but the writer was. I was. In trying to convey the sense it had been cheapened by some stray words that hadn’t been clipped.

Well now they are.

It’s a simple observation, and one that’s not even that high up on the rung of being a ‘good’ writer. But I think it’s an important one worth mentioning. I think most writing ideas and rules are simple enough to understand, but hard to execute. Why? Because we all think that we’re special, that we’re the exception and not the rule.

From that observation I learned it’s not how good you write, it’s what the reader senses. So while some writer’s can get away with the weakly whispering quietly said in… yada yada. It’s best not to think you can get away with it.

My writing became more confident when I stopped depending on those wee words of annoyance.

Who’d a thought?

[image error]