C. Aubrey Hall's Blog, page 15

Podcast is Live

Hi,

This is to announce that the first podcast interview with me from Manchester University Press is now live on their Website.

http://www.manchesteruniversitypress.co.uk

There will be six in the series.

Happy listening!

-Deborah

Happy Easter!

Best wishes to you and your family, friends, and loved ones, on this very special day of the year.

These are Victorian blown-glass eggs, painted and given to friends and loved ones to commemorate Easter Sunday. I like them much better than today’s plastic eggs.

 

 

I’ve never fully outgrown the delight of plush-toy bunnies. Have you?

Enjoy this, the very best of all Sundays, whether you’re celebrating at church, wearing fine new clothes as you go out to eat, planting spring flowers, or just lounging on your sofa.

Happy Easter … to you!

Moody and Broody

Here on the prairie, spring weather has been wild and crazy–much as usual. Fierce winds have buffeted us day and night lately. Last night, the wind blew around the corners of my house and tossed the newly leafed shrubbery and trees. Something–probably the iron structure supporting the bird feeder that’s slowly listing to one side like the leaning tower of Pisa–was creaking outdoors. The jolly string of wooden Easter eggs on my front door clacked steadily against the glass storm door. Night noises all around, never dying away for the stillness of sleep and tranquility. Things going bump in the night.

At one point I looked out the back door, and saw a full moon halfway above a thick bank of clouds to the east. It was an odd sight, very eerie, and seeing the moon like that immediately sparked inspiration. My imagination danced. What if? What if?

So … do you consider mood and atmosphere when you write fiction? When you’re devising your setting, do you incorporate ambiance?

In making setting vivid to readers, the atmosphere is important. After all, it’s hard to maintain a tense, suspenseful tone if you’re describing bright pastel colors and teddy bears and the cheerful sounds of children’s laughter.

You shade reader perception through the tone you adopt and maintain. You affect reader emotions, and stir reader imagination, through the diction of your story. What is diction? The words you choose to use. It’s all about vocabulary and making it work for you.

Consider the following words that have similar meanings but different connotations:

dim ………………………………..gloomy

large ………………………………cavernous

teeth ………………………………fangs

reddish …………………………..bloody

pointed leaves …………………spiky leaves

shy …………………………………withdrawn

Or these:

dim ……………………………….candlelit

large ……………………………..spacious

teeth …………………………….gleaming smile

reddish …………………………vermillion

pointed leaves ……………….palm fronds

shy ………………………………hesitant

Shading your diction or word choice to fit your story setting and its genre is also known as writing in coded language. Readers of certain genres expect writers to employ a vocabulary that suits the genre. Such word choices in turn connote more to avid readers of that genre than they might otherwise to a more casual audience.

Accordingly, romance readers expect settings to be described in ways that evoke the physical senses, are attractive or possibly glamorous, and convey a romantic atmosphere.

Thriller/mystery/horror readers expect settings to hold a sense of danger and to be edgy. Therefore, a poorly lit room might seem romantic in one genre but a dangerous trap in another.

Fantasy readers expect settings to be magical, unusual, exotic, and surprising.

Writers who take the time to enhance their stories with coded imagery–to set the mood appropriate to their plot, location, situation, and scene–add considerably to the overall effect. Consider the stories of Edgar Allen Poe. They ooze dank despair. Consider the Harry Potter series by J.K. Rowling which enchant and charm on every page. Consider the romantic story The Wedding Dress by Virginia Ellis, in which three sisters distract themselves from the bleak economic hardships immediately following the Civil War by hand-sewing a wedding dress, hoping with every button and every stitch that once the gown is completed a bridegroom will appear for at least one of them.

Now of course, there are some writers who want to play against type. They want to contrast the bright, cheery nursery with a grim crime scene down the hall in the master bedroom. They want to show an empty crib, a dropped teddy bear, and the bloody handprints on the wall going down the stairs. Such writers aren’t ignoring atmosphere or coded language. They are instead making it work for them in a different way, to surprise and stress readers deliberately. Such contrasts create atmosphere effectively.

Whether you set up straightforward mood or go for a contrast, be aware of your setting and make it work harder for your story’s success.

In Search of Boredom

Our society has an antipathy to boredom. It seems we dare not be alone with our thoughts for a moment, that we must fill every second with distraction. I see people walking down sidewalks, reading their text messages. I see people give their order at restaurants and then immediately whip out their phones to check their messages. I see people playing games on their phones while waiting for dental appointments and oil changes. SUVs come with DVD players in their backseats because heaven forbid that a child be forced to look at the passing scenery on a road trip. And just today, I learned that some police departments offer Xbox to victims while they are waiting to file reports.

Fine and good. If you’re thinking I’m about to step on my soapbox–yet again–to rant against the evils of our technology-driven world, you’re wrong.

Well … sort of.

I just want to make the case that writers need boredom more than they need phones, games, streaming video, and Instagram.

One of the best things my parents did for me in my childhood was plant me in some of the most boring situations ever. As an only child, I spent a lot of time hanging out in their business after school–being quiet and staying out of the way. Because they dropped me off at school in the mornings on their way to work one hour before school actually started, I had time to think, imagine, and dream. They hauled me on long twenty-hour road trips, and although I was an avid reader I couldn’t read in the car because of my severe astigmatism. Ergo, I moved into my imagination and invented stories for myself. Could I have done that while watching a DVD as we drove across Texas all day?

Today, my phone dings with text messages, emails, alerts, Facebook notifications, and reminders. Helpful, but distracting. When I sit down at my computer for a cherished hour of writing time, can I resist the news feed on my browser? Can I resist peeking at my emails? If I want to actually use my writing hour for writing, I had better resist everything.

Once upon a time, I remember when my weekends were empty–with nothing on my to-do list but household chores and writing. Now, the daily list runs across multiple pages with far too many intriguing events calling enticements to me. Errands go on and on, and choices are endless. There isn’t even time to pursue hobbies.

When did this happen? How does it happen? And what do we do about it?

Last week, while driving to work, I grew weary of the early-morning chatter of FM radio hosts and punched in the local classical music station. Sublime Bach filled my car as I crawled through near-gridlock traffic. Just minutes previously, I had tuned my radio to a station playing the latest Taylor Swift ditty. And I had to wonder about how we’ve gone from musicians proffering us the complexity of Bach to pop tunes featuring five notes and a repeating chorus. Could Bach hear himself think today in our cacophony of busy lives, busy tasks, more, more, more? Or would he be too distracted by the chance to watch Netflix to compose serious music?

Beware, fellow writers, the siren’s lure of distraction. It calls us into the land of Lotus Eaters, where we forget how swiftly our writing time passes or how near our deadlines loom because we are too busy thinking of too many things to write.

Find the boredom. Seek out nothing to do. Let silence fill your head and drive out the chatter-clatter of daily life. Sit quietly until you’re past the wiggles and impatient looking for your phone, for a magazine, for the remote, for something to push, peer at, listen to, watch. Sit quietly until the quiet drives you deep into your imagination. Then the muse will come.

 

If Dogs Could Write

Last night, I was making tuna salad for my work lunch. For a treat, I usually allow my dogs to lick the can the fish comes from, and I also give them the water the fish is packed in. Typically one dog commandeers the can–considered to be the most special and important aspect of this treat, and his brother has to make do with lapping up the juice and then circling anxiously until he’s finally allowed his chance at the by-now polished container.

The rule in my house is that no furry individual gets a people-food treat until after the people in the house have finished dining and left the table. Moreover, dogs aren’t allowed in the kitchen while I’m preparing supper. It’s a safety issue. No one handling hot pans or kitchen knives needs to trip over a fur-faced moocher.

However, last night, the rules went out the window. When I opened the can of yellowfin packed in olive oil, something I don’t usually have, the dogs swarmed my kitchen. They would not leave and only reluctantly moved out of the way each time I needed access to the refrigerator. The fish was on the island, and they remained as close to the island as they could get. They were focused, determined, goal-oriented, motivated, and passionate about getting that tuna can. (Incidentally, no, I did not give anyone the drained olive oil. A substitute was found.)

So what does my culinary incident have to do with writing fiction? Let’s consider 10 things a writer can learn from dogs.

 Dogs understand goals. They may be hardwired to instinctively beg for any food in your hand, but they know what they want without any ambivalence or apology. A story protagonist should be focused on a clear, easy-to-understand goal.
Dogs are strongly motivated to achieve their objective. Call it instinct if you wish, but they aren’t giving up until they succeed. Both the protagonist and antagonist should be powerfully motivated and determined.
Dogs have a plan. If just showing up doesn’t get the morsel, then how about bumping Master’s leg? If that doesn’t work, what about giving Master THE LOOK? If that doesn’t work, what about whining? If that doesn’t work, any cute tricks to try? The dance? The leap? The back flip? The balancing on the haunches while waving forepaws? If tricks don’t work, send in Brother who has the angelic face and succeeds best in begging. If that doesn’t work, what about the supreme risk of tripping Master?
Dogs understand that sneaky antagonists generate conflict. Ever try persuading a begging dog to leave the premises? The command is ignored. A louder order achieves a temporary flattening of the ears but the dog doesn’t move. A shout will drive the dog out of the way, but the dog immediately circles and takes up a new position even more in the way, preferably one that requires Master to step over the dog.
Dogs feel a gamut of emotions. The divine temptation of tuna fragrance hitting the nostrils. The watering of the mouth. The desire. The anticipation and hope. The crash of disappointment. The leap of new hope. Bigger crash of disappointment. The stubborn intensity of trying again. The agony of waiting. That sense of Master wavering. Master is picking up the can. Master is walking toward the utility room. Master is calling. The joy, the ecstasy, the delight of success! Ah, yes, dogs know the rollercoaster of emotions, whether they are spinning in a circle to earn a piece of popcorn or growling at the Fed-Ex guy. And so should your protagonist. Stories aren’t merely reports of character actions. Through viewpoint, your protagonist should feel a variety of emotional reactions–positive and negative–to whatever is happening in the story.
Dogs believe in what works. Repetition doesn’t faze them. If begging a certain way achieves a laugh and cave-in of rules from Master, then the dog will repeat what was successful. Find writing principles that work and use them again and again. Your characters in each story will be different. The story situation or problem your characters are dealing with are different. But your approach as a writer–the setting up of the story situation, the introduction of a goal-focused protagonist, the clarity of the story’s goal, the determination of the antagonist, and a climatic showdown at the end that resolves the issue–should be the same. Trust writing principles and use them every time.
Dogs keep things simple. Every time they run outside, it’s their favorite thing to do. Every time they run inside, it’s their favorite thing to do. They live in the moment. They forgive easily. They lavish love with generous hearts. All they ask is Master filling their food bowl on time, Master filling their water bowl when it’s dry, Master remembering there is a cookie at lunch, a cookie after supper, and a cookie at bedtime, and Master scratching tummies and tickling ears occasionally. So should your plot be kept simple. What does your protagonist want? Who wants to stop your protagonist? How will your protagonist overcome opposition to win? Any time you find yourself wound into an excessively complicated plot that has you baffled, simplify it. Clear, direct, easy to understand, exciting.
Dogs know there’s a time to play ball. Or Frisbee. Or fetch. If your scene is stuck, take a walk. Let the breeze ruffle your hair and blow the cobwebs from your mind. Take some deep breaths and increase the oxygen flow to your brain. For twenty minutes or so don’t gnaw at the problem that has you stymied. Just let your thoughts float freely. Enjoy the pretty sky. Stretch your legs. Take a moment to watch Canada geese putter in the park. And while your dog barks at them, snap a photo. Pause to greet a young mother out strolling with her children. Connect with the real world. You and your dog have shared a pleasant, simple experience outdoors. When you come inside, chances are you’ll feel refreshed and that Gordian knot of a plot problem will be something you can solve.
Dogs have fun. Optimistic and generally upbeat, they are always ready for adventure. Even better, they believe–with a few exceptions, such as bath-time–that anything and everything will be enjoyable. Writing, too, should be fun. It’s challenging and hard work, but it should never be dreary drudgery. If it is and if you dread sitting down at your keyboard, something is wrong.
Dogs keep their minds open. New experiences. New days. New people to love. New toys. New treats. Writers need to be receptive to what’s new and believe that almost anything can become fodder for a story, or inspiration for a character or setting.

Podcasts

Ah, yes, the march of technology …

When my very first book was published–long, long ago and far, far away–I gave newspaper and radio interviews.

Later on, when my career was marching steadily along, I gave cable TV interviews.

This week, in connection with my latest publication–THE FANTASY FICTION FORMULA–I was interviewed for a six-week series of podcasts that will appear soon on the Manchester University Press’s Web site. The time difference between Great Britain and the USA required a juggling act, but we found an hour when people on both sides of the Atlantic are simultaneously awake and functioning. It’s been a long time since I enjoyed a phone call from the U.K., and how easy that is to do these days.

Of course, I had the simple part. Just banish the dogs from the house so there would be no interruptions. Gather my thoughts. Remember to keep breathing. Hold the nerves in check. Try not to babble. It helped that George, my interviewer, was impressively prepared, asked intelligent and well-designed questions, and kept the experience serene and soothing. He was delightfully professional. I could have happily chatted with him for hours, just for the pleasure of listening to his voice.

Over the years, I’ve encountered good interviewers, lazy interviewers, and ill-prepared interviewers. The latter annoy me the most.  That ill-prepared reporter out for a news feature with sloppy questions and no actual interest in whatever book I’m trying to promote, pretty much a waste of my time. In such instances I’m inclined to stiffen up, grow steely eyed, and become less than cooperative …. Which category would George fall into?  Please let it be the first. Please, please, please not the last!

My imagination was more than capable of running away with me in thinking of several ways the podcasts could go wrong. Admittedly I felt apprehensive about talking with someone thousands of miles away, whom I couldn’t see, and might not relate to.

Fortunately, George belongs to category 1. He has the most beautiful speaking voice. He knows his job. He set me at ease, and I felt comfortable from the start. That’s the way I remember the publishing industry from the “good old days,” when I first began my career. Back then, publishers were independent companies, not penned up in the holdings of enormous corporate conglomerates. Back then, publishers had extensive staff–including separate editors for separate tasks and well-trained, innovative promotional people. This week, I felt as though a door had opened into another universe, where publishing is still a part of civilization and there is time for courtesy, professionalism, and dignity.

Well done, George! I can’t wait to hear the final version once the podcasts are live.

And as soon as I know when the first one is up, I’ll pass along that information–and the link–to all of you.

Now, if only I could speak as beautifully as George.

Kindle Version Coming

For those of you who have been wondering if THE FANTASY FICTION FORMULA will be available in a Kindle version as well as print, the answer is … YES.

It’s in process, and should be live very soon, perhaps next week.

The Tax Man Cometh

Is there anything less conducive to creativity than income tax preparation? My imagination flees. My desire to write takes a vacation. My incentive dries up. My brain freezes. My heart sinks out of sight. I dread walking into my home office and looking at the ledger lying on my desk, warning me that the sharp talons of misery are waiting to grip me.

In short, I hate it.

Cue up the violins playing in the background because who doesn’t detest this annual task? I am hardly alone. I try not to be such a baby about it. I crack the whips of fear and self-discipline to make myself start. Procrastination is only going to make it worse, right?

My annual New Year’s resolution is always to break this behavior and start keeping up with my accounts on a weekly or monthly basis so that the actual prep is a quick snap to do. But I never keep the resolution. Never. Occasionally I try, and my resolve will hold on somewhere between February and April. After that, I’m gone.

In other words, I do my accounts once a year, which makes the whole job much much much worse than it need be.

Still, it gets done somehow. And then I shove things out of sight–files and ledgers and calculators and scraps of papers–until next time.

So, if you sell your book–woo-hoo!–or a short story or a novella or a magazine article, (and whether you go through a traditional publisher or self-publish electronically)–if you sell your written materials, you will have to file a Schedule C form on your tax return and report the income. Along with that, you’re entitled to take deductions. Although they continue to dwindle, you should know about the ones that are not yet extinct.  Given that not all accountants and tax preparers are conversant with writer deductions, here are a few things you should know so you can consult successfully with your professional tax adviser or CPA. (The following does not constitute official tax advice. Always consult with a professional.)

The home office deduction. In the past, this was a dicey, muy dangerous deduction to take. You had to have an actual room dedicated to writing. (You still do.) None of that corner of the kitchen table business. Then you had to really tiptoe through the landmines of what was allowed and what would get you audited. However, IRS rules have changed somewhat on this one. So many people now work from home that the Feds have created a standard deduction that you can take. It’s much easier usually to take the standard deduction instead of trying to calculate the square footage of your house versus the square footage of your office to determine the percentage of your utilities you can deduct. I think this one is still being tweaked, however, so be sure you find out exactly what you can and cannot deduct here. But if you qualify, O ye hardworking writer, take it!

Equipment. Do you need bookcases? A new printer/copier/fax machine? A new computer? A lamp to see by? A fabulous ergonomic chair that will help you write comfortably for long hours? A great camera for your blog? Sometimes you have to depreciate expensive items, which means spreading out the deduction over multiple years, but your accountant can advise you on the best approach.

Car mileage. This one requires keeping a–sigh–mileage log. You can purchase little books at the office supply store that have entries for the day’s beginning and ending mileage, what the trip was for, etc. (And make sure you deduct the cost of the log.) For many writers, the mileage log may not add up to a lot of miles. See, we’re sitting in our computer chair, writing, instead of going places. Used to, jaunts to the post office to mail manuscripts, to deposit royalty checks, to go to the library, to shop at the office supply store, to browse at the local bookstore, etc. were all legitimate errands for a writer’s business. Now, we email our manuscripts, we may deposit checks via our smartphones, use the Internet instead of the public library, and browse on Amazon.com. All those conveniences erase our deductions, alas. However, if you conduct in-person interviews, or travel for research, or don’t care to deposit your checks via your phone, then you should keep the mileage log. At over fifty cents per mile, those little trips across town and back can add up quickly.

Office supplies. After shopping in a bookstore, the office supply store is one of my favorite places to visit. You may do everything via your computer. I combine low and high tech, so for example I stick Post-Its to my AirBook lest I forget something. That’s because I’m a visual person. I need the note where I’ll see it, not have it buried in some computer file or reminder app on my phone. So I need Post-Its, envelopes, pens, file folders, tape, thumb drives, paperclips, and printer paper. All the wonderful paper-oriented products that the modern world is trying to dispense with. Computer software programs and anti-virus software fall into this camp as well. (As long as you’re not buying games for your five-year-old.)

Internet service. The IRS expects writers to keep a log of how many hours they clock on computer usage, especially if the computer is shared among members of a family. My computer is shared with no one. My Internet access is for my business use, so I deduct the cost of it. Your CPA may suggest that you deduct a portion of your communications costs. However, your business phone line, your Internet access, the costs of your Wi-Fi router, etc. are potentially all deductible.

Meals and travel expenses. If you travel to interview someone or you travel to writers conferences, you can deduct your transportation and hotel costs, your conference registration fees, and a percentage of your meals.

Books, magazines, and movies. If you write novels, part of your job entails knowing your genre and the market, which means you’re reading novels constantly. Those are deductible materials for a professional writer. If you write magazine articles and/or you are perusing journals for research, you can deduct the magazines you read. If you rent or purchase movies in order to do research, you’re writing a filmscript or teleplay, or you need to input the plot to feed your imagination, you can deduct those costs. Going to a first-run movie in a theater, however, is a gray area that might get you audited. See what your CPA thinks. Mine gives me a thumbs down on that one.

Professional services. This covers such expenses as paying your CPA to do your taxes, or hiring a cover artist to design your next e-book cover. And although there are DIY options, you may prefer to spend your brainpower on your plotting instead of design. You may want to hire a company to make a video book trailer that you can put up on YouTube or your Web site. You may need professional assistance in designing your Web site or putting up Podcasts. If you’re selling very well, you may need to hire an assistant to handle your emails, PR promotion, and/or research. If you have a literary agent representing you, then the agent’s commission is deductible.

Donations. Find a few charities you like and give to them. You may want to donate to your place of worship, or to organizations like First Book that support literacy, or to some other cause near and dear to you. Besides monetary contributions, if you decide to clean out your garage and donate a pile of stuff like old sporting equipment, toys, and that bike you can’t use since your knees went bad, then you should itemize everything, assign each item a garage-sale value, drop them off at a donation center or arrange for an organization to come to your house and pick them up, and deduct the value. Make sure you obtain a dated receipt from the organization and attach your itemized list to it for your records. Such clean-out donations are easier to cope with than holding a garage sale, and sometimes the deduction from your taxes will profit you more than whatever cash you might earn from a sale. However, be sure your records have the name of the organization and its address because that information must be provided to the IRS.

While there are a few more deductions that you can dig up to ease your tax burden, these are some of the major areas available to writers. Good luck and may the task of doing your accounts prove less onerous to you than it is to me.

 

Fire and Passion

You come across a book by two authors you’ve never read before. You read the first one, and it’s like finding treasure. The characters spring to life on every page. The action is exciting. The suspense is hair-raising. You can’t bear the anticipation of reaching the story climax and yet you can’t stop turning pages. And when you reach the ending, you’re both exhilarated and sad that it’s over. You click online to see if this book is part of a series because you want more.

Then you read the second book you purchased. Your reaction is meh. It’s not bad, but it’s not good either. You find yourself trying to like the characters, but they’re merely okay. You can’t love them. You’re struggling to care about whether they’ll succeed. The story moves competently through its paces, and when you finish you’re mostly relieved that it’s over. Definitely you won’t seek any more of this author’s work.

Besides allowing for a reader’s personal taste, what’s the difference? Two authors with equal numbers of publications. Two authors with equal amounts of professional experience. Why is one writing copy that’s alive and one writing copy that’s flat?

Are their ideas that unequal?

Probably not. Very likely the difference lies not in the story premise but in their approach to their material. Writer One put her heart into her book. She wrote it because she had a passion for the story and her characters. She lived and breathed the emotions. Writer Two wrote because she had a contractual deadline to meet. She outlined a story in a competent way. She designed characters because they either fit a publisher’s guidelines or because she’s found certain characteristics sell better than others. She put her her characters into challenging situations, and then chose appropriate words to convey their emotional reactions.

One writer wrote with her heart. The other writer wrote with her mind.

Now in certain genres, such as hard science fiction or puzzle mysteries, the mind is what’s most needed. These books are focused on the story problem to be solved. They are not relying on intense character internalization and growth.

But for most genres, the heart is vital. Emotion in characters brings them alive. The writer must care about the character and the issue first. If the writer cares, then the character involved will care. If the character cares, then the reader will care. Investing emotion into a situation means stronger motivation, stronger attempts, stronger conflict, stronger confrontations, stronger reactions, and stronger determination to prevail from the story people.

Sure, writers have to think about their plots and work through the development of outlines, but once that foundation is laid, writers must then write the story from inside the protagonist’s viewpoint. That is what’s made to appear to drive the story forward.

But if a writer attempts to write fiction from the outside, the character will always seem flat and the authorial hand will sometimes be too evident in moving a puppet character here and there.

 

The Contrivance Factor

Is there such a thing as plausible contrivance?

If we want to be philosophical about it, we could say that all fiction is in fact that very thing. We lie and contrive to create our stories and characters, and readers accept the Great Deception in order to play make believe with us.

But that’s not what I want to address in this post.

Instead, I’m thinking about the writer with a carefully outlined plot, where each event has been planned and placed in an order that makes sense and is driving the protagonist toward an exciting story climax. And yet, perhaps halfway through the story–or two-thirds of the way in–something goes amiss.

Let’s say you have Polly Protagonist in a tight spot. She barely escaped an ambush by irate werewolves. She’s been chased across Dark City. She’s cut off from her friends and the cops. She can’t get back to her fortress on Shady Elm Street. All she can do is take refuge with vampire queen Moira, who lets her in.

Fine and dandy so far.

However, the plot outline says that Moira is hostile. Okay, check.

The plot outline says that Moira’s brother learns what she’s done and overreacts, threatening to burn down Moira’s hive if she doesn’t kick Polly out immediately. Huh?

Okay, STOP!

Let’s think about this. Doesn’t that seem harsh? Would Buddy actually burn out his sister? Are they enemies? Why? Couldn’t he just phone and suggest that Moira not harbor human Polly? Why the extreme overreaction?

The plot outline says that Polly must be cut off from all help at this point, so her situation will be harder, and she’ll have to turn to the Ancient Crone and strike a Fatal Bargain–something she’s dreaded since page 4.

So, in other words, the writer of this yarn needs Polly to be evicted by the vampires, thus keeping her in trouble.

[Push pause while we consider this for a moment.]

When you’re writing toward a particular turn of events or plot twist, beware of contrivance. Contrivance is simply when a story event occurs without plausible reason or motivation for the author’s convenience.  While writers can pull off nearly any conceivable story action if they motivate it properly, in my example Moira and Buddy are not motivated. Therefore, on some level, what they’re doing is no longer plausible. And while it’s possible to create so much danger and froth in story action that readers might keep turning pages, the reader will start to doubt. And when readers doubt, they stop believing.

Sure, I can go back and devise a backstory where Moira and Buddy fall out, and now he’s always angry about how she runs the vampire hive, but why over-complicate my task? I need to think about the key to this plotting misstep, which is that Buddy overreacts.

Why?

If you’re plotting, you should always be able to answer that question for any character in your story at any point in the plot. If you don’t know, or you haven’t given the matter sufficient thought, you will fall into contrivance.

The important point is that Polly must be evicted. Yet Moira will seem peculiar indeed if she gives Polly refuge then kicks her out two pages later. Why would she do that? Sure, sure, she’s doing it because Buddy has threatened her, but why would he do that? I know I keep repeating this question, but it’s important and deserves an answer. How does he know Polly is there? Why should he care? What is the story situation anyway?

So if we want Polly evicted, we have to invent a plausible reason for Moira to change her mind. Perhaps Buddy doesn’t threaten her. Perhaps he’s learned Polly is hiding inside the hive and he’s concerned that the werewolves will next turn against the vampires in retaliation. Maybe a savage and costly war between the werewolves and vampires has just ended, and the new treaty is pretty shaky. Buddy doesn’t want the conflict to start up again. He doesn’t want his sister caught in the middle. So he warns her from concern for her safety.

Now, doesn’t this work as a reasonable motivator for Moira to apologize but firmly push Polly out into the cold?

The plot outline is saved, but we’ve ditched the contrivance factor.

Often writers make this type of error when the plot is clear, but writer fatigue or a desire to hurry and finish a long writing project rushes the typing along too fast–or too heedlessly. Be on the watch for it, and don’t let it slip past you. Vigilance can only result in a better, more enjoyable story.