Susan Mary Malone's Blog: Happiness is a Story, page 34

Barns, Barstools, Tattoos and Harleys

We are honored this week to have Randy Mitchell, author of Sons In The Clouds, guest blog for us! Thanks, Randy!



When an author of fiction sits down to pen a novel, he has a fairly decent idea of what his story is about. He has characters in mind, places envisioned, a general idea of the plot which can make or break his efforts.

Many, like me, write from the gut and develop the book as inspiration hits while typing. Not so easy, as oftentimes this can become a very time-consuming endeavor. Others, like mega-author, John Grisham strictly believe in formatting an outline first then placing the story on paper; specifically seeing the story from beginning to end and then crafting a readable manuscript. No outline, no book, those are words they live by. The rationale is you don’t want to arrive on page 250 of 400 and draw a blank, then, you’re in big trouble.

Both methods work, but first and foremost, you have to actually see the story, right? This brings up the question: What/Who do you see and where do you go to envision your stories? What propels the creativity fairy to arrive and pay you a much-needed visit?

We’ve all heard the saying, “Writers write about what they know.” Much truth to this, no? After all, many writers have places and people they draw inspiration from.

Personally, I’ve learned to write about cities lived and visited, occupations worked in, and people who’ve made lasting impressions on me, for good or bad. For various authors, their lives are colorful enough to fill thousands of pages. For others, seeking out new ideas and visions to accompany the ones they already have is the needed answer.

My newest work-in-progress takes place in a small town outside of Dallas; and as it just happens, one where some of my family resides. So, I’m very familiar with the landscape. And there’s something about the charm of small-town living that draws people in and makes great stories--especially when there’re jackals living among good God-fearing, non-drinking, dinner-at-six type folks.

I always thought a tiny town, one like this, which rarely makes the news or gains much attention, could use a giant shakeup. Something that makes people pace the floors at night, pulls upon their greed, and tests generations of family bonds. It would take a lot to change the lifestyles of small-town attitudes; however, nothing gets peoples attention faster than the lure of buried treasure, so to speak.

Here’s where I’m going with this. I’ve known for a while what I wanted the story to be about, yet, I couldn’t envision some of the plotline I knew lay beneath the surface. So, after plenty of frustration, I did what any crazed writer would do, I started visiting the places I had in mind, and it’s helped immensely

There’s the old gas station turned restaurant/bar in the middle of nowhere (GPS required) where I hear moonshine is bottled and sold after midnight, the historic-looking town square both at lunchtime and way past dark, the biker bar where I was noticeably overdressed (tattoos and pissed-off attitude required for admission), the racetrack down the road where RV’s find new homes and fights are frequent, the neighborhood Drive-In Theatre (home of teenage pregnancies), and of course, Wal Mart, every residents second home (great for people watching while dining on popcorn and beer). To most outside observers, this tiny spec on the map of Texas is a sleepy pit stop. But dig a little deeper and stories can be found.

Think of things this way: Ever spent time at a Truck Stop in the middle of the night (just picture the drug dealing, prostitution, and adultery you’d see), Topless Bar in Washington D.C. (is that Senator #@$& across the room!), Homeless Shelter (imagine listening to the reasons of why many are there), a chic Country Club dinner table (did his wife just wink and lick her lips at that other lady’s husband?), or how about that abandoned, rusty old barn where millions (and Jimmy Hoffa) were accidentally found seconds before burning it to the ground– it stood next to a busy highway for years, yet, if people had only known. But you, the creative writer, envisioned a story inside its patinaed sheet metal while cruising by!

Stories are everywhere; maybe the ticket is spending less time at Starbucks and more at Bubba’s Bar & Grill?

Speaking of the picture above, is that Elvis I see playing checkers?

5 FOCAL POINTS FOR WRITERS READING BOOKS

I always get a good laugh when, invariably, my writers come back to me and say, “How on earth can you read for pleasure? You’ve ruined reading for me! Now all I see are major flaws.” And yes, that does happen, at least in the beginning, after your eyes are opened to the elements of great writing. I always do assure them that that will pass, and they’ll be able to read for pleasure again without picking a book to death. And yep, I’m more attuned to the flaws as well, although when a book is too chock full of them, I quit it. But oh, the joys of experiencing a story and characters written by a master of the craft!



And we can all learn from the pitfalls and brilliance of other writers—learn what not to do, what didn’t work, and what did. I’m not talking copy-edit stuff, not grammar, punctuation, spelling, etc., and not even really stylistic issues (wordiness vs. tightness, show vs. tell, etc.), but rather the deeper elements that go into a great book.

1. First off, what about the author’s voice is appealing? (If it’s not, you won’t still be reading). Is it that the voice fits the genre? For example, taking you back to a long-lost time in a Historical, where the language is fuller and slower, rounder through the edges? Even sometimes when the prose borders on purple, we’ll forgive it if it “fits.” Or is it harsh and flat, as in edgier fiction, where that fits as well? Is it the way the author changes the cadence, becoming staccato in the action scenes, and slowing to a denouement waltz on a mellifluous river of words?

2. Does the story start off with characters in conflict, or is the “Real-life” part too easy? Does the beginning story-question knock the hero’s socks off in some way, while showing life as he knows it up until now? Book after book after book (unedited) these days start with folks enjoying parties, cocktails, dinner, etc., and even if the repartee is witty, you start to lose interest. Where did the beginning fall apart? Can you pinpoint the exact place? Or, did the story begin with teasers in the scene, implying more going on under the surface than meets the eye? “Locking my office, exhausted from working late, I stepped down the marble hallway thinking of dumping my boyfriend and soaking in a nice hot bath. Light shone from under my legal partner’s door. He never stayed this late.” Now, this character can act from here in myriad ways, but the questions linger—why is her partner staying late? And what’s wrong with the boyfriend?

3. Does the story keep moving? Or does it have a sagging middle, scenes with no point, and you find your mind wandering? Where, exactly, did the storyline lose you? Find the place. It’s not difficult. What would you have done to shoot it forward again? What’s the missing plot point, and where, specifically, would you have put it? How would you have then built on that?

4. Could you predict where the story was going? The ending? As writers, we should always be trying to do so. Always asking ourselves: Is this going to happen or that? Not just, will he master his fear and win the day, whatever the day is, but also, how is this going to happen? I confess—I’m disheartened when I figure it out. But I’m blown away when the author takes me across a mountaintop I didn’t know existed but nonetheless fits. Ah, such unpredictable heaven!

5. Does the hero end up being who we thought he was? Did he change and grow? If yes to the former and no to the latter, you were probably bored enough to not finish the book. And while contrived character traits are just as tedious, when a protagonist is quirky enough, real enough, with foibles and strengths that we can relate to, but in the end masters something within himself that saves the day and does it with unexpected growth, then we feel satisfied. But if he was changeless, what situations would you have put him in to force him to grow? If he was predictable, how could you have dug deeper and found the unique aspects to him? What does your creativity say that those unique aspects are?

As writers we must read for so many reasons. Finding what works and what doesn’t is just part of why we do so. But as Samuel Johnson said, “The greatest part of a writer’s time is spent reading in order to write. A man will turn over half a library to make a book.”

4 Reasons to Write

This week we are blessed to have multi-published author Rhett Devane’s post on why she writes. Good advice for us all!



The publishing industry has changed since my first novel hit the market … years ago. The economy tanked, e-books gained momentum, and “what’s hot” continued to shift with the wind.

I’m not new to weaving words. My mama often commented that I worked out problems with imaginary friends and tales even before I had written language skills.

Last year at a week-long writers’ retreat, I hit “the wall.” Suppose most writers do at some point. I had six published novels in my stable—four traditionally produced by small presses, and two coauthored self-published works. Several completed novels idled in computer files, begging for revision. Five computers, three printers, and countless pens had met their worn-slap-out deaths.

At the beach retreat, I walked on the shore, wrote, cried, and talked to my heart-close writer friends. Was it time to quit? Was it making me happy? The time removed from daily concerns proved golden. Four main epiphanies bubbled through the quagmire.

1. I write to make sense of my world. To bring light and laughter.

2. It is—and never was—about money or fame.

3. To stop would be akin to not breathing, not fully engaging in life.

4. Even with its tears and fears—creating stories is my true purpose. That, and consuming good coffee and chocolate.

Okay, so not all of the thoughts were profound.

As soon as I got out of my own way, the muses perked up and stormed in, full of fresh ideas on how and where I should proceed. I listened. They haven’t led me astray yet.

With the release of my new Middle Grade Reader, Elsbeth and Sim, I honored a pledge made to my sweet mama. Years before I wrote The Madhatter’s Guide to Chocolate, I penned a series of children’s books. My mama wasn’t one for disorganization, including her last hours on this planet. She sat each one of us down and gave us a “good talking to.”

“Don’t give up on your writing,” she said. “It will take you places you never dreamed. And promise me you won’t let those stories about the little people in the mountains just sit there. Publish them!”

The muses agreed. I looked at the manuscripts with fresh, more experienced eyes. The first book in the Tales from the Emerald Mountain series, Elsbeth and Sim, is now available as a paperback and Kindle version. There you go, Mama DeVane.

Doesn’t mean I will neglect the other novels in the holding pen. Suicide Supper Club, Southern fiction, is slated for release in the spring of 2014. I plan to produce book two in the Middle Grade series in the fall of 2014. A second series of Middle Grade fiction is in the works too.

I decided not to allow others to dictate my progress. Yes, I would love a major contract. Who wouldn’t? But for now, I have taken control. Hang on, Mama, I’m in the driver’s seat. Heaven help. I have learned to format for print and Kindle, and how to design the cover. And I have slaughtered more than a handful of brain cells in the process. Don’t tell me I can’t do something.

Throughout my career, I have had the pleasure of working with excellent editors: developmental editor Susan Mary Malone, copy editor Paula Kiger, and my middle grade editor Adrian Fogelin. Also, one delightful agent Cherry Weiner, who believed in me and gave me confidence to press forward. I’ve worked with the Wild Women Writers critique group for over two years, and I’ve met some of the finest people on earth—my fellow scribes.

As for that wall? Wasn’t brick. Wasn’t even board. It was tissue paper and I put it through the shredder.

Rhett DeVane

www.rhettdevane.com

www.writers4higher.blogspot.com

www.southernhat-titude.com

3 WRITING-GENRES NEVER TO MIX

Last week we talked about how to avoid crossing writing-genres and lot of folks contacted me about the differences amongst seemingly similar ones. Even though many categories and sub-categories look the same from the outside, on the inside, they are rigidly distinct.



So this week let’s look at Mystery vs. Suspense vs. Thriller. For these sister genres, what are the differences?

To sort this out, let’s go up the food chain.

Œ In a Mystery, the disaster (most often but not always a murder) has either already occurred when the book begins, or is happening as the story opens (i.e., on page one). We know what has happened. But we don’t know by whom or why. For the rest of the tale, readers, along with the Protagonist, are trying to figure out whodunit, how, and why. Although physical action does occur, the majority of the plot points are mental. The Protagonist ultimately solves the puzzle, and hopefully, the reader does as well. The number of folks affected is smaller too—this is regional, community-wide, etc.—rather than global.

Sub-genres further structure Mysteries, which we’ll leave for another time, but of course the specs for say Cozies vs Detective sub-categories differ greatly (think the difference in Agatha Christie and Sue Grafton).

Œ Suspense novels present a different beast from Mysteries. Here, we’re actually waiting for something to happen, throughout the entire book. Some sort of bomb is ticking—which we see very early on. This can be a literal bomb, a meteor set to hit earth, a seeping dam about to break, etc. Think Alfred Hitchcock and you get the picture. The outcome itself is literally suspended until the end. It takes the Protagonist and usually a host of others to save the day, broadening the number of folks affected. We have lots of physical action, but not nearly as non-stop as in Thrillers.

ΠThrillers sit atop of the food chain. Think Clancy, Brown, etc. These translate into box-office boons, and rake in most of the book and film money. (The inside-publishing truism says that the difference in a Suspense and Thriller is that if the latter, you can add a zero to the advance.)

Thrillers, while having to be realistic, take that realism to the boundary of what awful thing can possibly happen. The tone is dark, the stakes are high—for the entire planet, usually. These are truly global in scope. We have bigger issues at stake than the previous two genres. Anxiety peaks, as the ride takes on that edge-of-the-seat quality. Action occurs non-stop, with very few breathers. For this of course we must have a worthy opponent, so our Antagonist outsmarts our Protagonist to begin, and for a good part of the story. But of course, the hero beats him in the end. Or else the Earth blows up and we would have never known about it.

These are generalizations of course, but we have to do that in articles such as this, and exceptions occur all over the place. But when trying to decide in which genre you’re writing, these differences should help!

5 TIPS TO AVOID CROSSING WRITING-GENRES

Traditional publishing is rigidly structured. No news flash there! But the stratification and specs of categories often bumfuzzle writers. And since I’ve just had this come up several times in the last week, thought we’d talk about it here.



So often writers want to include everybody in their audience. Seems to make sense, no? The more people you can appeal to, the bigger the audience, the more books you’ll sell. Right?

Not really. The reason publishers’ imprints are so strict is that they’ve honed in on the audience for different genres and sub-genres. And they have long-established distribution chains to reach those book buyers. I.e., they know who’s going to buy a Paranormal Romance, vs. readers of Romantic Suspense. They target Science Fiction to those who read it, vs. ones who lap up Fantasy (and those genres couldn’t be more different). Mysteries, Suspense, and Thrillers are quite different in scope and specs as well, and never the twain shall meet. As unfair as it may on first blush seem, it’s the way books are sold. And trying to re-invent this wheel will bring you only frustration.

So, how do you focus your lens so sharply that you catch that agent’s eye? A few tips will help clear up the pages.

1. First off, what do you like to read? What is it that catches your eye? Nine times out of ten, that’s what you’ll be writing as well. Of course writers branch off and out, but first works especially will fall into the categories you like to read.

2. Identify that genre, category, sub-category. So you love to read Romance. A good start. But what sub-category of Romance, exactly? Go to the major Romance imprint sites, and study the differences in the books. You’ll find where the ones you like to read fit, and there’s the genre that most appeals to you.

3. Now, study those specs. You’ll find word count (all of which are very strict), content, basic formula for success. Can your main character curse? Not if it’s Inspirational Romance. Can there be “other-worldly” or paranormal or fantasy aspects? Not if it’s Historical Romance. The thing is, you’ll be able to find all of that under the different imprint submission guidelines.

4. If you’ve already written your manuscript and have slipped across genre lines, you can always go back and fix the transgressions. Sometimes this takes a total rewrite; sometimes just a change of this or that, a going in a different direction from mid-way. If you’re in the process of writing the tome, all the better—you can stick to the guidelines before having to make whole-scale revisions.

5. Finally, stay in your genre with subsequent books. The whole point of book selling is to build an audience, beginning with the first one and continuing on with the second, third, and forever. I’ve often had writers complain, when after selling one book they’ve subsequently brought an entirely different genre to the agent, only to have the agent reject it. Why? Because the audience the writer has built resides in his first genre-community. And trying to sell something different a.) won’t appeal to that community, and b.) won’t be known in another. Can you write something entirely different? Of course. Just know you’re starting back over at jump as far as publishing’s concerned.

That publishing runs along very strict imprint-specs bears repeating. But you can master that, and get one step closer to that brass ring!

How do you identify your genre?

WRITERS’ DREAMS

“If you build it, they will come.” –Field of Dreams

How many writers live by these words? The dreams of becoming a successful author in a vast sea of writers and books and hype, an ocean of fears and worries and dashed hopes? What does it take, at the end of the day, to find the fortitude and courage to continue on with your writing in the face of insurmountable odds? I’m not really talking here about people with one story to tell, usually nonfiction or memoir, but rather, those of us who live to write stories, and keep doing so no matter what. Are we all, as Ray Kinsella seemed in the film, just garden-variety nuts?



Probably. I mean, when young folks ask me what it takes to be a writer, I bite my tongue from answering, “Basic insanity.” Because, of course, we’re supposed to encourage our youth J But that’s pretty much the only reason I don’t reply that way.

One doesn’t have to be in this business a terribly long time to come upon a mountain as high as Mt. Everest, which shoots into the atmosphere to dizzying heights, rocky and steep and filled with deadly crevasses, all of which can maim you to the point of death (just ask John Kennedy Toole or a host of others).

But what is that elusive element that keeps us, after slamming again and again to our knees, getting up again to write another day? When boiled down to the essence, what drives us?

That dream. A hope that we will produce something beautiful, something that contains all the elements of great fiction in order to last; in order for someone to read and “get” it. That a book we pen in the obscurity of our solitary worlds, staying there for months and even years on end, will see the light of publication and be recognized as something good.

A novel of mine that I love, I Just Came Here to Dance, was published this month, and has been receiving beautiful reviews. One from this week just took my breath away. But it wasn’t just the review itself that warmed my heart, it was that the book came out at all, and that that one person “got it.” This novel was a very long time in the making, and saw its share of despondency. But it’s one I’ve always believed in, and could never give up on. Do I hope more people find its beauty? Of course. But the size of the audience isn’t the thing. It’s the story itself. And, that crazy dream.

It always tweaks me a bit that the opening quote here didn’t actually come until very late in the story, almost the end. The first mention by the “voice,” and subsequent ones, didn’t say it that way. What it actually said was, “If you build it, he will come.” Singular. An obfuscated meaning for poor Ray lay there as well, but the point for our purposes is that in actuality, it just takes that one reader—the one who gets it—to make the whole endeavor worthwhile.

So build it. Toil. Strive. Go dizzy with the rush of creativity, and weak with the energy expended to finish. Build it. And he will come.

WRITING INTO SORROW

Novelists, especially, at some point or another must write scenes of heartbreak and death and loss, although narrative nonfiction often includes this as well (see a good example of the latter with Judy Brizendine’s Stunned by Grief) But how do you write these scene effectively without descending into pathos? Just like ploughing through actual grief, it’s tricky.



None of us go through life unscathed. None of us. By the time you get to our age, you’ve almost certainly waded through the thick, drowning waters of sadness and sorrow. I actually do know middle-aged folks who haven’t had major losses (which always stuns me! How can this be?), but they are few and far between. And for writers, this process will, best-case scenario, enrich your work, infusing it with layers and texture and meaning.

But the thing is of course, that you can’t do it while in the throes of that sorrow. I, along with all the novelists I know well, experience grief through a realm of stages that don’t follow the one, two, three, four, but rather go back and forth for a seemingly endless meandering and maddening path. Only in hindsight do we see that we were actually working through. Most all of us have had that thought that we’re defective, unable to “get by” the loss. Which of course, one never completely resolves . . .

Writers often become paralyzed to write while going through this. But so many feel the need to push through (that deadline, don’tcha know. Or the fear that you’ll lose the desire to write, or the thread of the narrative, or fifty other things . . . ). Almost always when they do, the results are disastrous and they have to go back and fix all the messes. I always counsel my writers if they feel the need to write during this time, absolutely do so—but in a journal. Journaling the hurt is a quite effective tool, and buried in there may be some things of use down the road. But most of it is just raw pain.

Healing may take a year, even two, depending upon the core of the loss. And that’s okay—nobody grieves in the same manner as anyone else. But once you begin to heal, that writing desk will beckon. Relieved, you sit down to begin again.

And if you’ve embraced your grief, a funny thing will happen once you return to writing. That deep place of pain, the core of the wound, will open you to compassion for the grief of others. In this case, your character’s! Now instead of writing about sobbing uncontrollably (I must admit, one of my pet peeves!), your hero will have a clutch of the heart when removing a dead bird from the stoop. The root word of wound is “wonder,” as in a wonder. And now your character sees things with deeper insight. As you write into his sorrow, his world opens up.

Now, he can be just as big of a sh_t as he was before, but at least now we’ve found his humanity! Leopards actually don’t change their spots, but those can sure become muted, and nothing brings about major change in your character as does deep loss and sorrow. Unless of course you’re writing a pure sociopath, but that’s a different issue!

So embrace your own sorrow. Drink it in and feel the rush of pain paralyze your senses. Stand in that spot where you’re convinced if you do you will be swept out to sea and drown. Because one day, when you least expect it, all that sadness will infiltrate your writing exactly as you need it to, bringing with it a richness and poignancy that your readers will rave over.

3 JUMPSTARTING TIPS FOR WRITERS

INSPIRATION OR PERSPIRATION: Which is most Important?

Well of course, we know it’s both. Anyone who has undertaken the daunting task to actually write and complete a book knows that no choice really exists. I talked in January about Inspiration, but this one is more about her evil twin: Work.



Yes, you need the initial inspiration to even talk yourself into starting. And often, that beginning breath of the gods will take you a long way—through the opening, into the major conflicts, your oh-so-well-drawn characters jumping to life and racing around the first turn and even (hopefully) into the backstretch.

Ah, we love that muse, and prime her in every way we can think of! We feed her with all the sweet nothings whispered into her ear, with the promise of carrots at the end of our writing day. And she always responds. At least, initially.

And then, often, we run smack dab into a soft spot on the rail. Sometimes writers hit a wall, but usually, it’s more of a bogging down. Where did all that momentum go?

It jumped straight off the track and landed in the soggy infield of slaughtered dreams.

I can’t begin to recount all the stories I hear from writers regarding this. Some try to press through, floundering as if with one leg tied behind their backs. Jockey-less. That writing muscle cramped up as in a lactic-acid meltdown. So very many writers quit here altogether, or begin another book, only to at some point stop that one and begin another . . . I hear, often, “I was so inspired, I wrote 20,000 words in nothing flat. But then the trail went cold and now I can’t write until I get another breath of it.”

Phooey! As professionals, we all know this is when the perspiration part comes in. We know all too well that while amateurs rely on inspiration, professionals know that fortitude and courage must now take over. If a deadline exists, well, we whip ourselves in the rump and spur that pony on. The feed bill has to be paid!

And I actually think this is the best-case scenario—you have no choice but to press on. Because it’s oh-so easy to stop and bemoan the lack of inspiration to write. But that is only a trick of the mind.

A few jumpstarting exercises work great here.

|1). The very best is to take one of your major characters out of the book and into a scenario that occurred a decade before. Or in childhood or adolescence. This piece isn’t to be included in the book, but it can be a short story you can sell down the road. Just take her away and include none of the rest of the characters, putting her into a scenario with a huge conflict. Begin writing and follow her where she takes you, with no attention to your prose or structure or anything, but rather, stream-of-consciousness. Not only will this cleanse your palate, but you’ll also learn something about her you can use in the book, once you get back to it.

|2). Another is to just write something entirely different, even if it’s a response to Dear Abby. Just write.

|3).And then, circle back to your book. Write. Take the last passage you have, and go. It may be awful. It may take your story a way you ultimately toss. None of that matters. You don’t care that this workman-like prose doesn’t have the zing of the inspired brilliance of before. That’s not the point. The point is you’re doing it.

Somewhere, along the far turn, you’ll find yourself racing again, getting ready for the homestretch, the breath of the gods back in your face, the finish line in sight. And often, you won’t even remember when you turned back on.

Because as Thomas Edison said, “Opportunity is missed by most people because it is dressed in overalls and looks like work.”

5 TIPS TO EFFECTIVE DIALOGUE

HE SAID, SHE SAID



Writing dialogue trips up the best of us, at one time or another. On the other hand, often comes the comment, “This author has a great ear for dialogue.” So how do we tame this beast and go from the former to the latter? A few tips will take us a long way here.

1. Formal and Stilted Dialogue, and everyone sounding the same. Often, without the tags, I cannot tell who’s talking, and I should be able to. For most new writers, this is almost a given, and I see all the time a variation of this:

“My name is Bill. What is your name?” he asked.

“My name is Theresa. Good to meet you, Bill,” she replied.

Yep, this is an exaggerated example, and for comparison:

“Name’s Bill,” he said, a grin spreading over his rugged face. “Yours?”

“Theresa. I know you from somewhere?”

I.e.—get something done in the dialogue with every spoken word as well.

Dialogue should rarely be in complete sentences—we just don’t talk that way. Unless, of course, you’re writing a very formal and stiff character, and this is a character trait. Otherwise, use more contractions, and we all have our favorite words and phrases, slang, etc. Put this in. Get quiet and listen to your characters speak, then write what you hear. Now, on that note, be careful not to pepper the dialogue with too much dialect. Toss in just a smattering, to give a flavor for the speech patterns, but not so much as to make this unreadable. It’s like putting salt into a stew—you want to put in enough to bring out the other flavors, but too much makes it inedible.

2. Look At. This almost universal foible will sink a scene.

He looked straight at her and said, “X.”

Not only does this fill the passage with wasted words, but a huge opportunity is missed here to evoke emotion and description. And often, ‘look at’ is the only action happening through the discussion.

Instead, use this space to show the non-viewpoint character—reinforce what he looks like; create his emotion:

His slate-gray eyes softened as he said, “X.” Or: His steely blue eyes narrowed at her in suspicion.

And in the latter, if you’ve couched the scene correctly, you can even omit the ‘in suspicion.’

Now, break that rule if whether he does or does not look her in the eyes is important—i.e., if he’s hiding something, or conversely, has the courage to do so under tough circumstances.

3. Tag Modifiers. Somewhat a continuation of above, the tags tell me rather than show me. If you must write, ‘she said anxiously,’ then the dialogue itself is lacking (and again, ‘told to’). I should get the anxiety from the spoken words, and the actions/mannerisms of the speaker: “He’s missing,” she said, wringing her well-manicured hands.

I’m not saying to never describe the dialogue, but rather to give me a picture of the emotion, rather than telling me about it (that old ‘show-don’t-tell’ rule popping up again). On the rare occasions where describing the dialogue is merited, do so up front, so that I can hear the tone as the words are spoken, not afterward: Softly he whispered, “You’re mine.”

4. Talking Heads. You know what this is like—we have pages and pages of dialogue, with no action in between, no notice of what’s going on around the characters, no expressions, mannerisms; no evoking characterization. I can’t help but see heads just floating in white space. Disconcerting with two folks talking, but downright frustrating in a group. Often I lose track of who’s talking when and especially if everyone sounds the same, I have no clue!

Instead, use this space to again reinforce your characters’ physical descriptions and emotions. We, as writers often have crystal-clear images of how our people look. But our readers need help—again, not a beating-over-the-head type help, but gentle reinforcement. And again, rather than telling me, show me.

Rather than, ‘He looked baffled as he said, “X,”’ which I cannot see, ‘His high forehead creased as his full lips went slack.’

And evoke emotion: “She left me.” He grabbed his wiry hair in both hands. “Why?”

Use it as well to let me know if an ill wind has just blown in from the sea, or the crowds have thinned as darkness falls, to evoke a sense of impending bad juju.

5. Ancillary Dialogue. Every single word counts, no matter what you’re writing, even the spoken ones. What I often see is this, at the end of a passage of dialogue:

“Let’s meet to talk about it.”

“Where do you want to meet?”

“How about the pub at 3.”

“That sounds good.”

“See you there.”

“Bye.” Lucy hung up the phone and thought about how excited she was to see him again.

Aaaccckkk! I’m pulling my hair out by now Instead, paraphrase this, in one sentence:

They agreed to meet at the pub at 3 and Lucy looked heavenward and smiled.

Of course, a plethora of other dialogue problems exist, but these are the big five, the ones I see over and over, and trip up the best of us at times. Again, all words in whatever you’re writing count. Give them punch!

4 WRITING-CONFLICT EXERCISES SCENES PART 2

Okay, so you’ve effectively set the scene, and are ready to really dive into the conflict. But what actually is conflict in a scene? And how do you write it effectively?



Conflict should comprise about ninety-five percent of the scene in novel development. Yikes, you say! That much? Yep.

We all know the five main themes of conflict: Man against himself. Man against man. Man against environment. Man against nature. Man against machine. But conflict has very little to do with guns firing. It is rather what blows apart within a character. However, this conflict has to be external. Something has to give. Something or someone has to get. Something has to be happening in your story. The protagonist is in conflict with an antagonist while enroute to a goal. The character must resolve his conflict—within, without—for the story to have meaning.

Ask yourself a few questions before you write the scene: How did the conflict come about? What were its roots? How is each person within it involved? How is the reader involved? Because of course, your reader must be involved or she’ll put down the book and not pick it back up.

Of vital importance to the conflict of the whole story, and for each scene:

Establish the Story Question to begin the first scene of the book. This is your main point of the story, and contains the seeds of all conflict. Each and every scene has to have a piece of this main Story Question.
Craft the incident to begin your story—the one that contains your Story Question—very carefully. This event (read, conflict) upsets your main character’s world, whether it be his wife leaving him because of his drinking, or aliens coming to attack the Earth. It causes him to want to restore balance. Most importantly, it creates a bond with the reader by arousing her curiosity as to whether the protagonist can achieve his goal (this is not the first time your reader should question your protagonist!).

Ask yourself: What is the worst thing that can happen to my hero? This should reveal to you his deepest desire and his greatest fear (his Achilles’ Heel, which will come to fruition later), both of which play into his story goal. In turn, this will help you construct a beginning incident of conflict that then carries the story through to the end–and provides the tension for readers to keep turning the pages.

This question brings a significant change in the character’s reality—it challenges his status quo, and knocks him out of his comfort zone. No matter what he does from here, life isn’t going to stay the same. Nor, is he.
It also accomplishes a huge goal—to give the reader something to worry about. That’s what keeps him reading. NOTE: the reader will lose interest with everything but the Story Question, so make sure every scene has a piece of that—something that relates to it, something the character has to manage in order to get to the Holy Grail at the end of the book.

Each conflict, plot point, scene leads to a disaster of some sort (we’ll talk about this in Part 4 of this series), and keeps the central conflict at the core for our hero.

Tough work being the hero! And tough being the author as well! How do you keep conflict going in your book development?