Larry Brooks's Blog, page 12
February 25, 2016
Correction – about the FREE tele-webinar tonight!
It’s still FREE, by the way.
That much I got right.
Story coach Jennifer Blanchard and I will be discussing the writing process relative to both story development and drafting. It’s important stuff, since this arena is largely misunderstood and often fraught with risk.
The correction stems from the fact that in yesterday’s post I listed the call in number… when in fact, that number is the moderator call in. Imagine if everyone could hear everyone on the call… at once…
Two words: my bad.
Here’s the link to get registered:
https://jenniferblanchard.leadpages.co/jamwithjbnlb/
It’s been corrected on that post, but for expediency’s stake, here is the link to the sign-in page. You’ll receive a confirming email with the call in number, and yes, you will have a change to “raise your digital hand” to ask questions.
There are only 25 spots available for this call, so act now. That said, the call will be available afterwards as a free file.
My apologies. Hope to be on the call with you tonight, at 7:00 pm Eastern time.
Again, click HERE to register.
*****
Earlier this week I posted an important article on Killzone.com, entitled: “A Kinder, Gentler Perspective on Story Structure.”
I think you like this one, especially if the word “structure” makes you break out in hives.
Get it (the post, not the hives) HERE.
The post Correction – about the FREE tele-webinar tonight! appeared first on Storyfix.com.
February 24, 2016
Part 6… of a 10-Part 101-level Review of Writing Your Novel
Part 6: Gaining Dramatic Altitude – Welcome to the Part 2 Second Quartile of Your Story
Story structure is all about making your narrative – and thus, the reading experience – more effective. More intense, more emotional and more engaging. These are goals that apply to any and all genres, and thus, it renders the essential nature of story structure a universal truth.
Basic story structure breaks the arc of a story down into four roughly equal (relative to length) quartiles. You’ve probably heard of the 3-Act structural model, which is used by Hollywood and virtually every 101-level writing class that acknowledges structure in the first place (many don’t, including most MFA programs, thus handicapping their students at the very core of the understanding of what makes a story work).
Each of the four quartiles has a specific and unique mission: to impart a context to all of the scenes that appear within it.
The second quartile’s mission is to show your hero responding to the new presence of a story path that emerges at the First Plot Point, which is located at the intersection of your Part 1 (setup) and your Part 2 (response) quartiles.
Every scene in the Part 2 second quartile unfolds in context to this mission: your hero now has something to do, a a problem to deal with, a danger to flee from, a puzzle to solve, an opportunity to pursue.
In other words, after the Part 1 quartile has setup all the requisite pieces of the story, and the First Plot Point has toppled those dominoes into a sequence of action, you now engage with the Part 2 second quartile to show us the hero in motion.
Not necessarily showing the hero in battle or confrontation (it’s too soon for that (this is the mission of the Part 3 “attack” quartile), but rather, Part 2 is where we show how the hero reacts to the call to action (via the First Plot Point separating Part 1 from Part 2) and the presence of need, driven by motivation (often threat or danger) and stakes (love or even survival). The hero will get their hero on soon, in Part 3, but for now, here in Part 2, we need to deepen a sense of threat and danger and establish the nature of the antagonistic force (or character) that is posing those threats.
The Part 2 quartile isn’t the whole ballgame, but it is one fourth of it. But like all four of the quartiles, there is a mission at hand and specific milestone moments within, the sum of which equals optimized dramatic tension and pace, which is the life-blood of genre fiction.
If you’d like to go deeper, join us in Portland, OR, April 3 -7, for a massively comprehensive workshop (when was the last time you saw a four-day writing workshop?) that will change your entire writing life. Click HERE for more information, including the agenda and a huge tuition discount.
*****
FREE online Webinar! (Is that redundant? Oh well…)
Join Jennifer Blanchard and I for a discussion about the writing process, for better or worse (both options kick in for almost all of us. It’s Thursday, February 25, at 7:00 Eastern (do the math for your time zone). Here’s the call in info… again, this is free, so please join us!
Dial: 425-440-5100
Code: 595718#
The post Part 6… of a 10-Part 101-level Review of Writing Your Novel appeared first on Storyfix.com.
February 17, 2016
Part 5… of a 10 Part 101 on the Craft of Writing a Novel that Works:
Today’s entry in the series covers what, in my experience, is the most commonly misunderstood, fumbled or ignored principle in long-form storytelling.
Even proven published professionals get this wrong, even though they may DO it right (or close to right) in their work… because their story instinct pushes them to execute this story milestone in roughly (that’s all you need, to come close) the right place and in the right way, but they don’t have a name for it or realize what they’ve done. (Interestingly, working professionals don’t, as a rule, study craft, so this fresh take on story structure may elude them.)
This is proof of the validity of the mission of the First Plot Point, it is the most important element of the story physics that empower a story to work. And, almost without exception, you must get this right. Without the awareness that today’s post imparts, it may take you many drafts and much pain to get there… better to shoot for it from the starting gate, even if you’re a panster.
Pansters and planners alike share the same goal: to pants or plan the highest level of story execution possible, as early as possible.
Also, if you’ve been following my continuing efforts to make you aware of a massively career-changing working coming up in April, please click (or re-click) the links below, because the price for this has been massively reduced. Jennifer Blanchard, with whom I am sharing the podium for this (equally, we’ll both be holding microphones for the entire four days) is The Up and Coming story guru in the business, so this will truly be an elevator ride to an empowered level of craft for everyone in the room.
One other note: the post just prior to this one – an interview with author Carrie Rubin – is garnering a lot of attention (the most reader comments here in years). The reason is the author’s depth of thematic passion for her work, and her credibility as both an author and a working physician, someone who discovered the power of craft and experienced the bliss of her work going ballistic almost immediately. And, she’s one of the coolest people I’ve met in this business.
On to today’s installment…
Part 5 —
The First Plot Point: Welcome to the Most Important Moment In Your Story
It’s called The First Plot Point, and it is not only essential, it is inevitable. As such, it requires careful and enlightened placement within the sequence of your story, at a location that is as non-negotiable as it is essential.
Why? Because every story requires several key essences and contexts, and all of those are launched and driven by this single story milestone. Your hero has something to do, a problem to solve, a danger to flee or an opportunity to pursue (sometimes all three at once). In the first quarter of your story (roughly), if you’ve done it right, you’ve set up all the dominos that will give this hero’s quest stakes, risk and meaning.
But – also if you’ve done it right – you haven’t yet fully launched the hero down that new and/or twisted path of pursuit and reaction. The First Plot Point is the moment that happens, thus defining the core dramatic story and arc itself, actually launching it fully into play.
If you’d like to see this in action, watch a few movie previews (which you can get in abundance on Youtube, or, there is an entire network with nothing other than previews available on all smart TVs). Without exception, you will see two things in these valuable (as a learning tool) two minutes of preview action: how the story is setup (which is the content of the first quartile), and then, a dark and/or extreme moment at which newly visible danger and risk and darkness changes everything, thrusting the hero down the path of the story’s core dramatic exposition.
That is the story’s First Plot Point.
You can’t miss it. If you do miss it, then seek to immerse yourself in a study of this essential story milestone, which every person writing about storytelling (including myself, on my website: Storyfix.com) describes under a variety of names (like, “the doorway of no return” from my friend James Scott Bell… it’s the same thing exactly).
As for location, the optimal place for the First Plot Point in a story is within the 20th to 25th percentile range relative to total length (either via page count or word count). If you launch it too soon you may not have given enough focus on the story’s setup (thus compromising reader empathy for your hero, as well as short-changing the establishment of stakes), and if you do it too late your story risks reader impatience with a narrative that is taking to look to get off the ground.
And if you’ve written an entire draft and realize your FPP doesn’t land within that range, it’s a deadly mistake to say, “well, that’s how to goes, there are no rules, this is my story…”, when a revision to push it back to that placement will, almost without fail, make your story better.
If this sounds formulaic, it’s not.
Not even close. Gravity is not formula, nor is it a choice. The sidelines in football game is not formula, it just is. The cooking time of a turkey is not formula, it simply dictates whether the end product is edible or not.
All of this – story included – is simple the physics of what works and what doesn’t. It’s natural law. It’s proven human experience. It just is.
Every story that works becomes an example of the mission and placement of the First Plot Point itself, even if the author denies any knowledge of it. Because that placement is the very embodiment of story sensibility, often the product of feedback (like, “your story takes too long to get going”) that leads to a more optimal placement and expositional-content of the FPP.
You can cut years off your learning curve by mastering this one element of structure.
Because to gain that mastery, you’ll also need a firm command of dramatic theory and character arc, the two pillars of story in the first place. And when you get there, you’ll be in command of a collective awareness that exceeds the sum of their separate parts… every time.
*****
Join me and story coach Jennifer Blanchard in Portland April 3 through 7, for a deep dive into the full realm of story craft – definitions and criteria included – covering this and many more elements and essences of a successful story… a story so powerful it’s almost as if it’s on steroids… all presented in context to your writing process, whatever that might be.
Click HERE to go to the workshop’s website, where a dramatically-reduced tuition is now available.
Click HERE for a closer look at the four-day agenda.
Click HERE for an earlier post that discusses more about this workshop from my point of view as a co-presenter.
The post Part 5… of a 10 Part 101 on the Craft of Writing a Novel that Works: appeared first on Storyfix.com.
February 10, 2016
“Eating Bull” – An Interview with Author Carrie Rubin
This interview came in waves. First, I love the title of Carrie Rubin’s latest novel, “Eating Bull.” Titles do a lot of the lifting in terms of attracting readers, and this one really drew me in. Then I met the writer online after another Storyfix reader alerted me to a post on Carrie’s website, in which she recommended Story Engineering to her readers because it had helped her along the writing road.
So of course, I’m already in at that point. But when I did the due diligence – read the post, studied her website, bought the book, read the book, loved the book, swapped some emails with the author, liked everything about her…
… and she’a physician in her day job, to boot, which is pretty impressive…
… so, here we are. I’m happy to introduce you to Carrie Rubin, with the confidence that comes from knowing you’ll like the author and her website and her novel Eating Bull as much as I do. She’s an avid student of craft, and has a lot to share with like-minded writers.
There are even some valuable health tips in this interview, too. Read and learn… and live.
LB.: I have to admit, I found you from the notification of a link after you’d mentioned me (and Storyfix) on your website. Which means you are a “craftie” (literary equivalent of a foodie). Have you always been a student of craft, or were things different for you earlier in your career?
Carrie: First off, thank you so much for having me here. It’s a true honor. I owe Stephanie Raffelock, producer of your upcoming workshop in Portland, a thank you for mentioning both of us in a Facebook comment that linked back to you. Ahh, the power of social media.
“Craftie” is a label I’ll happily wear. Like many new writers, when I wrote my first book fourteen years ago, I winged it. I had a semi-formed plot in mind but not much else. A year later I typed The End and thought, “Wow, I’ve done it.” Well, I did something all right. I wrote a book full of plot holes and meandering. After a professional critique, I rewrote the book and had a decent story the second time around.
I understand now that what I did to improve the story was add structure. If I’d had Story Engineering as a resource back then, the process would have been smoother. Luckily your book appeared while I was working on my second novel. Before I started the first draft, I mapped out my story parts and milestones and then expanded it to a full outline. For my third novel, I did the same and will continue to do so in the future.
I guess once you go craft, you never go back.
LB: What brought you to the avocation of writing fiction?
Carrie: Though it sounds cliché, I’ve always wanted to write. When I started reading Robin Cook’s medical thrillers, I learned it was possible to be both a doctor and a writer. Of course, life as a physician didn’t leave much time, and that’s why my first book was so long in coming. But eventually a book was born, whose process I mentioned above.
L.B.: How does craft serve you, and what do you say to writers who prefer to just make stuff up – including their own take on craft – as they go along?
Carrie: Given my left-brained tendencies, it’s not surprising I’m a fan of structural guidelines and basic story elements. Outlining too, though why I wrote such a loosey-goosey one for my first book is anyone’s guess. To me it makes sense to iron out the kinks beforehand. When we make stuff up as we go along, we risk plot holes and pacing problems, not to mention major revisions several drafts down the road.
But I understand that style is not for everyone. Some people find outlines and essential story elements restrictive. But to those writers I’d say that even with a pre-designed structure you can—and often do—change things up. But it’s far easier to make those changes in the first draft than the fourth.
l.B.: “Eating Bull” is a title that really grabbed me. Having read the book (almost done) I can see where it comes from, but one has to immerse in that pitch before the title has meaning. If you ran into an agent in an elevator at a conference, what is your 30-second pitch for the story?
Carrie: My 30-second pitch would be: “After joining forces with a public health nurse to sue the food industry, an overweight teenager lands in the crosshairs of a serial killer who is targeting the obese. Now Jeremy—bullied, fat-shamed, and ridiculed by his own grandfather—must prove to his family, the killer, and the world that he’s more than the faint-hearted coward they think he is.”
Of course, the protagonist’s nickname “Eating Bull” takes on more significance as the story goes on, but to mention why would be a spoiler.
L.B.: Awesome pitch. Your story is highly thematic (obesity)… did you start with that, and if not, what was your launching story element?
Carrie: I did start with that. In fact, three things pertaining to obesity launched my story element:
My frustration with managing obesity in a clinical setting. Many people want to lose weight, but so many obstacles block their success—the food industry among them.
Reading investigative reporter Michael Moss’s revealing book Salt Sugar Fat: How the Food Giants Hooked Us. It’s an eye-opening exposé on the role of the food industry in our country’s weight problem.
A tearful, severely overweight teenage patient who said to me, “Not a day goes by I don’t know I’m fat, because no one will let me forget it.”
Nonfiction books already exist on the issues of fat-shaming, food addiction, and the food industry’s role in obesity. So I decided to weave the elements into a fictional story instead. Fiction often evokes emotion in a way nonfiction does not, and it makes readers see things in a new light.
L.B.: The humanity and empathy inherent to youy story shines through when you discuss it this way. And you impart it to your narrative, as well.
You have three terrific POVs in your story: a student with a problem, a health worker, and a serial killer. Which came first for you?
Carrie: Thank you. Though Eating Bull has a 15-year-old protagonist, it’s not a Young Adult novel. As you mentioned, two other adult POVs make up the cast.
My nurse protagonist came to me first. When I thought of the concept to sue the food industry, I knew I’d need a social-justice-seeking character to do that. A thick-skinned public health nurse fit the bill. But I also knew she would need a patient to champion for, someone to convince to sue the food industry for his or her obesity, and someone young and malleable enough to do her bidding. So I chose a 15-year-old. But since he’s the one with the most obstacles to overcome, he became the main hero.
The killer came last, and that was actually my husband’s idea. Fat-shaming is a prominent theme in the book, and an obsessive-compulsive, fitness-crazed killer allows that behavior to be taken to the extreme.
L.B.: As a “story engineer,” did you that any muses visited you during the process, and if so, how did they influence your process?
Carrie: Some of this I answered in an earlier question, but I would add that I’m not one for muses or characters speaking to me. They don’t guide my story; I do. Not that I haven’t been surprised by a shift in my character’s direction—something I hadn’t initially thought of. That’s one of the fun parts of writing fiction. But I guess I’m too much of a realist to say the characters made me do it.
I like an objective, blueprint approach. I want to know where all the story pieces fit and how they will escalate tension before I start the first draft. It’s like putting together a puzzle, and sometimes that means roadblocks and setbacks. Of course, this is where your books helped me a great deal. They gave me a vocabulary for a process that intuitively made sense to me.
L.B.: What’s next for you, near and longer-term? Do you intend to remain with small presses, or do you have plans to go more traditional, or even perhaps self-publish someday? What informs those preferences?
Carrie: I’m nearly finished the second draft of my third novel and hope to have it ready to query by summer. I’m thrilled with my current boutique publisher. They put together a great product with Eating Bull and worked with me every step of the way.
However, like self-published authors, small-press-published authors shoulder the bulk of marketing. Promotion is difficult and time-consuming, and getting reviews is challenging. So I may query agents and try a more traditional route. On the other hand, a benefit of the small press is a quicker time to publication. So I’ll see how things go.
L.B.: Some reading this article are quite new to writing fiction, what is your advice to them, as well as warnings and promises?
Carrie: My advice on the writing side would be to plan your story first. That doesn’t mean you have to create a 20,000+ word outline like some of us do, but at the very least, flesh out the story’s structure and know what plot elements you’ll need to keep the pace moving. If you sense you’ll have to fudge to make something work, then don’t start writing until you’ve fleshed it out. It makes the first draft much easier, and by the time you get to the second, most of the heavy lifting is done. Dealing with a plot hole in the story creation phase is far less painful than dealing with it after multiple drafts.
My advice for the practical side (and warning) is to know there are millions of books out there, with thousands more being published each day. Getting an audience is difficult. It takes lots of work. Expecting to become a bestselling author from the get-go who makes lots of money is unrealistic. But with hard work and steady output, you may eventually climb out of the red and into the black.
Thank you once again, Larry, for interviewing me on your blog today. It was a pleasure to be here, and I thoroughly enjoyed our exchange.
* * *
Carrie Rubin is a physician with a master’s degree in public health. She is a member of the International Thriller Writers association. Her novels include Eating Bull and The Seneca Scourge. She lives in Ohio with her husband and two sons. You can find Carrie on her website, carrierubin.com, Facebook, Twitter (@carrie_rubin), and Goodreads.
The post “Eating Bull” – An Interview with Author Carrie Rubin appeared first on Storyfix.com.
February 6, 2016
Writers… Ever Been on the Verge of Quitting?
If so – and you aren’t alone – read this guest post from story coach Jennifer Blanchard.
The first time I sent my Story Coach, Larry Brooks, a story plan for him to analyze, I thought I’d nailed it. I was waiting to receive his email saying I had a great story and my genre would eat it up.
What I got back, was heartache.
Not only did he say I didn’t have a story, but he pointed out several really big plot holes and one particular scene that, if I used it, would ruin the whole story.
It was bad.
And he didn’t give much positive feedback, if any. Not because he’s mean and wants me to suffer, but because positive feedback isn’t going to help me improve. (What’s good doesn’t need to be fixed, everything else does.)
I haven’t ever admitted this before, but a small part of me wanted to quit in that moment. To throw in the towel and say that I would leave the writing up to people with actual talent.
Except I wouldn’t be where I am in my life today if I listened to the voice that tells me to quit. So I pushed through and decided maybe that wasn’t the right story, and I worked on another one.
A few short years later, my debut novel is out in the world (a story that Larry also analyzed, told me had potential, and he made a small tweak that changed everything).
Being a novelist–especially a pro novelist–isn’t for quitters. It’s for writers who know they can get better and improve by learning craft, by studying story, and by not trying to do it all alone.
That’s where I found myself in the moment I felt like quitting. I knew I could quit and find another hobby to focus on (God knows I have plenty of them!). But in my heart I knew I was a novelist. So I had to go on.
What I did instead of quitting was practice more. I re-read Story Engineering . I watched more movies and deconstructed the plot points. I re-read the novels I love, to see how they did it.
Three things you’ve gotta have if you want to be a pro novelist:
1 Thick Skin–as thick as possible. The thicker the better. You have to be able to hear really bad things said about your story and not even flinch. (REALLY TOUGH, I know.)
2 The Ability to Brush Things Off–you can’t take anything personally. Ever. Because it’s never really about you. It may be about your work or your writing, but it’s not about you as a person. Making mistakes, in writing or elsewhere, doesn’t mean you’re flawed and not meant to be a novelist. It just means you have more to learn.
3 A Strong Grasp On Craft–period. There’s no way around this. You have to know craft, understand craft and master implementing it in your stories. If you can’t do that, you’ll never make it. (Harsh, maybe. But I’m here to help you cut years off your learning curve, not keep you spinning your wheels forever.)
Don’t fool yourself into thinking that being a good writer is enough or that you can write a really good story without knowing craft. It’s not and you can’t.
There are opportunities everywhere to learn more about craft. Books. Workshops. Coaching programs. Writing groups.
If you’re ready to learn craft, here’s an enormous opportunity for you to do so:
Your Story On Steroids
One bestselling novelist. One pro story planner. Four days. Portland, Oregon. April 3-7. The Benson Hotel. Your writing will never be the same again. (And there’s a special massively discounted price available until Valentine’s Day!)
About the Author: Jennifer Blanchard is an author and story development coach who helps emerging novelists be more effective storytellers and cut years off their learning curves, so they can write kick-ass books and get published faster. Grab her free story structure cheat sheet and start writing better stories today.
The post Writers… Ever Been on the Verge of Quitting? appeared first on Storyfix.com.
January 31, 2016
Part 4… of a 10-Part Series on Story Craft
Part 4: Your Hook
Breaking bad, Good, or Otherwise.
This isn’t just for the sake of clarity. Within each of the four contextual quartiles of a novel – each quartile with its own context, in this order:
1. setup (wherein you create reader empathy, establish stakes and provide foreshadowing, all BEFORE the main plotline launches)…
2. response (to the First Plot Point, which launches the hero’s quest on a new, steeper pathl aka, The Plot)…
3. attack (on the problem at hand)… and…
4. resolution – wherein all paths lead to a final confrontation between the hero and the antagonism, in context to the decisions and actions taken that lead to this point.
Okay, that’s a chewy list. I encourage you to read it again, and perhaps yet again, until it clarifies. Because this is one of the major elements of craft that separates professionals from newbies, the published versus the unpublished, or if you’re self-publishing, buzz versus dead silence. (If you’d like a little more on this, click HERE to read a longer tutorial on the Big Picture role and justification of story structure, no matter what your writing process.)
Literally the first structural milestone in any story is the “hook”…
… which should appear within the first twenty (or s0) pages of your manuscript, the earlier the better, usually in your very first scene. It can take many forms, even as a Prologue when called for (nothing wrong with Prologues, by the way, despite what some famous authors say… even the opinions of the rich and famous are only that – opinions… you can find a contrary valid opinion on virtually everything).
The hook has a singular mission, regardless of how it plays within the narrative: to capture the reader’s attention, curiosity and even emotional engagement, even before they actually know enough about the story to understand why. A hook can drop the reader smack into the middle of a chase scene, a moment of truth, or even a fast-forward preview of a scene that will actually take place at the very climax of the story.
Or, it can frame a situation or deliver a moment of tantalizing foreshadowing that rivets the reader to the pages, even without a clear sense of what it all means.
One way to determine if you have a viable hook is to look at the nature and degree of information dispensed in your first pages. If you are focusing on description of location and the nuances of a culture, chances are it’s not a hook. A hook is about something happening, or about to happen, or a situation that puts extreme stakes into motion.
The acid test is the presence of action, or imminent action, in the hook moment, something fraught with threat and danger and the implication – this is not the time to explain why, that comes later – of stakes. If the reader can put themselves into that moment of darkness and risk or promise, even before they’ve come to know and love your hero, then chances are you have a viable hook working for you.
If not, you are skipping over one of the most powerful structural tools available. Without a killer hook, you risk losing your reader before you get to the good stuff, which is always a rookie mistake.
Don’t make it in your story.
Want more? Would you like to go deeper into the basic essentials of craft?
Join me and story coach Jennifer Blanchard in Portland April 3 through 7, for a deep dive into the full realm of story craft – definitions and criteria included – covering this and many more elements and essences of a successful story… a story so powerful it’s almost as if it’s on steroids… all presented in context to your writing process, whatever that might be.
Click HERE for a description of the workshop — which is, as of this weekend, being offered at a massive discount from whatever previous price level you’ve seen — and a link to the enrollment page.
Click HERE for a closer look at the four-day agenda.
OrHERE to go straight to the workshop’s website.
The post Part 4… of a 10-Part Series on Story Craft appeared first on Storyfix.com.
January 23, 2016
Part 3… of a 10-Part Series on “Story”
Please note: this short intro appears prior to each of these ten installments. If you’re read it before, skip down to the next subtitle in larger font. Also, to read previous posts in this series, refer to this menu of links (be sure to return to this page to keep reading in sequence; that said, each of these stand alone, it is the assimilation the full body of information that will take you to the next level of understanding of the basic principles of fiction-writing craft, as it applies to writing a novel):
Part 1: Concept
Part 2: Premise
Part 3: DRAMATIC ARC
It’s not mystery that stories have a beginning, middle and end. But if you leave it at that, you may not be seizing the inherent potential of your premise, and you may be leaving upside on the table in a way that may either explain a rejection letter, or fall short of your self-publishing goals.
Modern fiction – let’s leave Cervantes and Homer out of the conversation for a while, they haven’t sold a novel in centuries – is not driven by formula (a distasteful word for writers). Some writers – too many – dismiss anything related to structure as formula, but that’s laziness and ignorance, because unless you are finger painting, everything has structure driven by what has been proven to work.
The unfolding sequence of a story is driven by something called “dramatic theory”…
…with is a core expositional principle that results in stories sequencing in a certain way… a linear contextual order that is a little more complicated than beginning, middle and end.
Novels are built around four evolving contextual parts (which overlays and aligns with 3-Act structure, but with more useful context for writers who are doing it, rather than just studying it). No matter how many chapters or scenes are involved, an effective novel presents itself to the reader in a way that naturally captures their interest and manipulates their emotions. It begins with putting the pieces of the story – characters, settings, plot machinations, stakes, heroes and villains – into play initially, and then throwing a wrench into the works, thus allowing readers to immerse themselves into the emerging dynamics of it all.
And then something happens – there’s that wrench – and it does it is the most important moment in the story: everything changes. The primary “plot” (the source of dramatic tension) launches or, if it was partially initated earlier in the Part 1 setup, here is where it escalates. Suddenly your hero has something to do, something to play for, motivated by threat or opportunity and opposed by forces (usually a human “villain,” but a personal crisis or natural event can threaten just as heinously) that pursue another goal altogether, one that puts them (the villain/antagonist) at odds with the goals of our hero.
This sequence is known as the dramatic arc…
… and it becomes the very essence of the narrative of a novel. And yet, professionals know that, while there is no formula, there is a prescribed order to the context of it all. You wouldn’t, for example, show the reader the ending in the first half of the book (and if you do, then the suspense may reside in the way you get to it, which needs to surprise the reader along the way).
This is more than structure, per se. Rather, this is the proactive management of the reading experience, leading your reader through the lens of your story strategically, in a manner that optimizes drama, emotion and the sheer vicarious thrill of losing themselves with your story world. Dramatic arc is the means by which you deliver an experience – emotional, intellectual, visceral, sexual, social – vicariously through the sequence of your scenes.
This flow is as complex as it is critical to the success of the story.
Some writers labor for years in search of it – others deny it completely while they, unwittingly, set out to find and implement the very thing they deny – and yet it remains available to any writer seeking to understand story as a reliable theoretical sequence, rather than something that is different every time out.
Want more? Would you like to go deeper into the basic essentials of craft?
Join me and story coach Jennifer Blanchard in Portland April 3 through 7, for a deep dive into the full realm of story craft – definitions and criteria included – covering this and many more elements and essences of a successful story… a story so powerful it’s almost as if it’s on steroids… all presented in context to your writing process, whatever that might be.
Click HERE for a description of the workshop, and a link to the enrollment page. Or HERE for a closer look at the four-day agenda.
Or click HERE to go straight to the workshop’s website.
If you enroll before February 1, you will receive a TEN PERCENT DISCOUNT on the workshop tuition.
*****
The post Part 3… of a 10-Part Series on “Story” appeared first on Storyfix.com.
January 20, 2016
Part 2… of a 10-Part Crash Course on Story
Please note: this short intro appears prior to each of these ten installments. If you’re read it before, skip down to the next subtitle in larger font. Also, to read previous posts in this series, refer to this menu of links (be sure to return to this page to keep reading in sequence; that said, each of these stand alone, it is the assimilation the full body of information that will take you to the next level of understanding of the basic principles of fiction-writing craft, as it applies to writing a novel):
Part 1: Concept
Welcome to the 101 of writing novels.
One of the reasons writing a great novel is so challenging is that there is no obvious starting place. Is it a character? A premise? A theme? A single sentence that won’t get out of your head?
While that argument continues to rage, what remains in less dispute is this: there are a set of principles and essential elements that, before the story works, you need to get right. With that in mind, this series introduces – reintroduces, actually, since these are the foundation of this body of work, and my three writing books – ten of those essential elements.
Today’s post defines and explores the one that is in the running for that Square One focus.
PREMISE
“It isn’t a story until something goes wrong.”
That’s the essence of premise in a nutshell. Premise is not merely an intriguing time or place. “A story about ancient Rome,” for example, is only a partial – and therefore defective – statement of premise. A solid premise is a snapshot of what your protagonist is up against, what she/he must do (action) and accomplish (outcome), what their quest/journey is within the story (experience) – in other words, what goes wrong – and what is at stake (consequences of both success and failure).
Consider your story as a vehicle, waiting to carry your reader somewhere. To another time and place, into the throes of a relationship, smack in the middle of a mystery or a dangerous situation. That is the beginning of premise (setting), but not the entire raw grist of the story. Ever.
The heart and soul of a vehicle, any vehicle, is some sort of dramatic engine. A source of compelling draw, of narrative power. Without that engine, the whole thing just sits there. It becomes a still-frame. Perhaps pretty to look at, or sit in, but without a source of motion – a hero with a goal or a problem, taking action to achieve that goal or solve the problem, in the presence of opposition and/or antagonism, with something at stake — is is a parked car, not a race car or, if you prefer, a gilded chariot.
That dynamic proposition becomes the engine of your story. And an engine worthless until you put it into motion.
This action-driven, problem/goal orientation is called the premise, a common (and thus, too often loosely rendered) writing term, one that resides at the heart of every successful story. And I’ve just defined it for you. Here it is again: a hero with a goal or a problem, taking action to achieve that goal or solve the problem, in the presence of opposition and/or antagonism, with something at stake.
Right now, in this moment, you can use this analyze your story. If you struggle with identifying any of these elements and forces within your story, you have more work to do. Because your answer for each needs to be concise, clear, and most of all, compelling.
A functional premise, one with inherent power, is all of these things.
The absence of any one or more of these story elements renders the premise less than effective. Because it is the sum of these that puts the story vehicle into motion. Such a premise explains rejection or failure in a huge percentage of rejections (agent, publisher or readers at large), the other reason being less than compelling narrative skill.
Non-writers often ask writers what their story is “about.” This is a loaded question.
Writers almost always ask other writers what their “premise” is. So if you say, “my story is about ancient Rome,” that’s at best a partial premise (maybe you’re waiting for a response to add the rest, but if you don’t have more story than that, then you haven’t yet landed on a premise that will work). Telling someone what your story is about is a risky, nebulous proposition that can land on a character, a theme, a time or place… all of which can be conceptual and cool, but none of which comprise a fully-formed premise.
If that partial answer is delivered to an agent, then you are already toast.
“The Davinci Code,” for example, is about… what? There are easily a half dozen correct answers to that question. But the premise is perfectly aligned with the definition: a hero (Landgon) with a goal or problem (he is being framed for murder and the cops are after him, as well as a mysterious albino assassin, in addition to a potential romantic interest who may or may not be what she seems), and so he runs for cover while also seeking answers to a murder and the emergence of a bizarre proposition, one that bad guys (under the cover of being good guys) are willing to kill to protect. Not only his is life at stake, but the veracity of the most popular belief system in the Western world may be threatened by what he learns.
And that, fellow writers, is an $80 million killer answer to what a story is about.
That’s what a great premise can do. Maybe not to that scale, but when you fuel your premise with a compelling conceptual essence as its framework (which implies, accurately, that you can cover all these component bases in your premise, and it still might not be all that compelling… finding and adding the magic if your job, your challenge, and it actually the key to everything… but you need a fully-formed premise as the vehicle for that magic), you are suddenly in the hunt for readers in a way that you won’t be if you take the nature and breadth of your premise for granted.
Want more? Would you like to go deeper into the essentials of craft?
Join me (and story coach Jennifer Blanchard) in Portland April 3 through 7, to learn more – definitions and criteria included – about this and many more elements and essences of a successful story… a story so powerful it’s almost as if it’s on steroids… all presented in context to your writing process, whatever that might be.
Click HERE for a description of the workshop, and a link to the enrollment page. Or HERE for a closer look at the four-day agenda.
Or click HERE to go straight to the workshop’s website.
If you enroll before February 1, you will receive a TEN PERCENT DISCOUNT on the workshop tuition.
*****
Next post in this series: Dramatic Arc.
The post Part 2… of a 10-Part Crash Course on Story appeared first on Storyfix.com.
January 18, 2016
Part 1… of a 10-Part Crash Course on Story
Welcome to the 101 of writing novels.
One of the reasons writing a great novel is so challenging is that there is no obvious starting place. Is it a character? A premise? A theme? A single sentence that won’t get out of your head?
While that argument continues to rage, what remains in less dispute is this: there are a set of principles and essential elements that, before the story works, you need to get right. With that in mind, this series introduces – reintroduces, actually, since these are the foundation of this body of work, and my three writing books – ten of those essential elements.
Today’s post defines and explores the one that is in the running for that Square One focus…
CONCEPT
It’s amazing what can happen when you look at a noun from the context of an adjective. Want to be thought of as a hero? Do something heroic. Want to be a leader? Be more likeable.
I know, obvious, right?
But when it comes to the “concept” of our novels, eyes cross and shoulders droop. The reason is that the word – which has a very succinct definition and role within the story development process – is often confused with other important words in the writing vocabulary. Like, premise. Or theme. Or idea. And yet, it is something different and essential, just as critical as the words it is often confused with.
But watch what happens when you flip the word “concept” – a noun – into an adjective: something that is conceptual.
Boom. That’s clarity exploding all over the place.
What some writers don’t yet realize is that concept and premise are different things. Which gets confusing when we consider that concept is a subset of premise. Actually, you could say (and you would be right) that concept is what fuels a premise. Because it is entirely possible to put forth a premise that isn’t conceptual – it lacks a compelling essence at its heart – which usually results in a weak or even a lame premise.
But when a premise is fueled by something that is conceptual – a notion, a proposition, a fascinating character (often defined by what the person does for a living, like a detective or a mind-reader), or even a time or place (for example, in “The Help,” the concept was setting a story about racial tension in 1962 Jackson, Mississippi).
The best criteria for concept? There are two, actually. First, when a concept works, when it imparts rocket fuel (or steroids) to a story, it stands alone before you add a character or a plot. And then, when you pitch it, the listener goes, “Wow, now that sounds interesting, I’d love to read a novel built around that notion or set in that place!”
Remember, in this context there is no character or plot in play yet, just a conceptual proposition that becomes a framework for them both.
Want more? Want to go deeper into the essentials of craft?
Join me (and story coach Jennifer Blanchard) in Portland April 3 through 7, to learn more – definitions and criteria included – about this and many more elements and essences of a successful story… a story so powerful it’s almost as if it’s on steroids… all presented in context to your writing process, whatever that might be.
Click HERE for a description of the workshop, and a link to the enrollment page.
If you enroll before February 1, you will receive a TEN PERCENT DISCOUNT on the workshop tuition.
*****
Next post in this series: Premise.
The post Part 1… of a 10-Part Crash Course on Story appeared first on Storyfix.com.
January 8, 2016
The Workshop You’ve Been Waiting For… the Workshop You Can’t Afford to Miss
Learning to write a story, specifically a novel, is a lot like life. There is all manner of theory, approach and professed truth out there for the taking, with more than a few loud evangelists for each and every point of view.
Success in writing a novel, like success in living a life, depends on and eternally proves just a handful of universal principles, many of which can be spun in multiple ways toward the same outcome. The Golden Rule, for example, is one of them. Winners never quit, that’s usually true. Success is one percent inspiration and 99 percent perspiration. With all due respect to Mr. Einstein, that’s not often the case when it comes to writers and their stories. Because history is littered with – and the hallowed halls of workshops venues are full of – writers who have been willing to work hard for years, even decades, in quest of the holy grail.
Which is… what, precisely?
In spite of what the latest rash of self-publishing gurus will tell you, there is only one thing a writer has complete control over. And that, my friends, is your story. While there are many ways to reach the moment when you write “The End” and pop a beer, just as there are infinite ways to screw it up before you reach that milestone, what happens after that is the very antithesis of a sure thing, no matter what “proven marketing strategy” you sign up for.
So What Does Work?
The upside is this: you can put yourself into good fortune’s way when it comes to being successful as a writer. And the way of doing that is by being in complete control over what appears on your pages.
You need a story that soars. Purely and simple. Mediocrity, even when it means you write every bit as well as the author who is signing at your nearest Barnes & Noble, or the piling on to a trend will never get you there. Ask any breakout author if they were working on the idea that made them famous several years before a single reader heard about it.
What are you working on now . . . how will that play two years from now? How can you even know if what you’re doing will be competitive, now or then?
From the moment you type “The End” onto a draft that in all likelihood will get rewritten several more times, much of what comes next is totally out of your control. All the Facebook friends, tweets and blog tours or podcast interviews in the world will not make your book successful if the story itself doesn’t rise to deliver a reading experience that is rare and precious.
And that, dear writing peer, is the hardest thing of all to pull off.
How do you write a story that really works?
Most workshops talk about how to write a novel, which is a discussion that is as much about process as it is anything else. My workshop will teach you what a novel must look like – the specific elements and essences and criteria that, when a story works, is there every time.
Writing well is merely a pre-requisite.
Good writing gets rejected every day, by the terabyte full. But excellent storytelling, that’s a different thing altogether. Rare, yet learnable. Quantifiable. Blueprintable. Repeatable. Reliable. And known to and practiced by only a small percentage of writers who, in the truest essence of the phrase, know what the hell they are doing.
I read an interview in last month’s Writer’s Digest Magazine about a bestselling author who says, almost proudly, that she begins each book with the cold fear that she has no idea what she’s doing, or how she did it before, and is certain she cannot do it again. I read famous authors all the time who literally brag about not having a clue how their story will end as they start writing it, which is no different than a doctor saying they have no idea what an appendix is even as they cut you open to find one.
This is the state of much of the writing conversation out there. It glorifies ignorance in the name of art, as if the blind grace of a higher power or the thinly guised hubris of being brilliant is the thing that has blessed their story with power and resonance.
Let’s Get Down To The Reality of It!
Are you ready to separate your self from the writing herd? Then join me, and story planner, Jennifer Blanchard for this unprecedented workshop intensive, that will unmask the mystery of good story telling and set you on the road to being a successful novelist. Here are the details:
Your Story On Steroids: A 4-Day Novel Development Intensive:
April 3rd through April 7th, at the Benson Hotel in Portland, Oregon. You are guaranteed four days unlike anything you’ve ever attended, that will exceed your highest expectations. Jennifer is, like me, a novelist, a story coach and a blogger in the fiction space. She’s someone who found her writing life irrevocably changed when she first encountered the principles that we will share with you at this workshop.
It won’t be a lecture and it won’t be a yawn, either. It will be a participative, interactive exercise with you, for you, and all about your current work in progress. I’ll be using real-life examples from known bestsellers and even real-life failures to shine a light upon what works, what doesn’t, and most importantly of all, why.
I rarely get to spend this amount of time teaching a workshop. Your Story on Steroids is going to be like getting a mini MFA, because craft has never been this accessible, this clear and this applicable. You will walk out of the final session a different writer, an empowered writer, as someone who realizes they are on the other side of ignorance, confusion and blind hope.
This Is The Most Important Workshop You Will Ever Attend.
Are you ready to be the writer who now has a real shot at creating the most powerful thing a writer can claim – a story that really works? If artfully rendering a story in ways that lesser writers will never understand, and few writers ever command is your goal, then this is the workshop you have been waiting for! This is the new and glorious hope for your writing dreams.
One more thing. Remember those principles of life that apply to writing, as well? Here’s another one: you have to choose in.
Here’s how: www.novelintensives.com is the sign-up site for this event. I hope I get to see you in Portland in April.
Here are a few more reasons to give this serious consideration:
When was the last time you attended a workshop that was truly interactive, allowing you to work 0n – just just listen to some instructor telling you how they did it – YOUR story, in real time, in direct response to prompts and criteria that will take your story to the next level?
When was the last time you attended a workshop that wasn’t just 90 minutes, but 3.5 full days of guided experience across the full spectrum of the story development process?
When was the last time someone explained the full body of thought on structure AND character, regardless of your process?
When was the last time you got to ask anything and everything you need to ask about storytelling, in the company of like-minded writers?
When was the last time you listened to instructors who won’t quit before you have fully and functionally assimilated the information being dispensed?
Go HERE to read more specific reasons you need to join us in Portland in early April.
Yeah, I know it’s not cheap. But it will change your writing life. And that is a priceless outcome.
The post The Workshop You’ve Been Waiting For… the Workshop You Can’t Afford to Miss appeared first on Storyfix.com.
