Larry Brooks's Blog, page 23

Case Study: When a Concept is TOO Big

I had trouble titling this one.  You’ll see why when you read it.

To suggest that a concept is too big is to imply, perhaps, that the writer is reaching for something that feels he/she is ready to tackle, the story they were born to write.  But concepts, on any scale, are available to anyone, and when they arrive at a scale that calls for a keen mastery of story, and you’re new to this, then its more like a recipe for frustration.

And possibly, as it’s turned out for the author of this story plan, an invitation to dive deeper into the craft of storytelling.  Because this concept is unforgiving in the depth and thematic breadth of what it demands.  It looks great as a one-liner… but imagine trying to write the thing.

The Questionnaire and feedback here come in at nearly 9,000 words (one of the reasons I’m about to raise my fee… this thing took me hours to complete).  It’s an ebook, in effect, in which I find myself launching into high octane lecture mode on a whole roster of story issues.  And thus, for craft-hungry writers, this case study becomes a clinic on what the collision between High Concept and Thin Craft looks like.

The author was a little nervous about sharing this, fearing you’d all pile on.  I told him you probably would, but as empathetic teammates and creative contributors, which you’ve shown yourselves to be.  You’ll find a LOT to work with on this one.

You’ll also notice, upon reading the synopsis and sample that follow the Questionnaire portion, that this writer can really deliver the lyrics, you’ll find a rich narrative voice there.  Which serves to cement the realization that how well you write your sentences is only one of the six core competencies you need to bring to a story before it’ll work.

Not every concept can be pulled off as a story, even when it sounds fascinating.  This just might be one of them.  You be the judge.

You can get it here: When Your Concept is TOO Big.

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Want more stuff on craft?  Writers Digest Magazine has named me their Instructor of the Month, which means they’re packaging my books, webinars and even a live workshop audio into a deeply discounted portfolio.  Click HERE to check it out.

I’ll also be teaching several sessions at the West Coast Writers Digest West Coast Conference, in mid-August.  Watch for registration info in the magazine, on their website, and (via links) here on Storyfix.

Case Study: When a Concept is TOO Big is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Guest Post: The Burden of Your Novel’s Opening Scene

A guest post by noted author and blogger C. S. Lakin.

Think of your novel as a gold mine, with a mother lode resting deep in the heart of a mountain. In order to get to that treasure, you have to build a sturdy framework as you dig into all that dirt and rock. You don’t want the mine to collapse on your head—that would spell disaster.

Now think about the entrance to the mine, which is particularly important to attend to. All the bracing and construction that follows will be built off that initial structure. So if it’s flawed or built with flimsy materials . . . well, we’re back to disaster.

So how is all this like a novel? 

In order to get to the heart of your story, the “”entrance” must be set up clearly in the first pages of your novel. Most authors know that the beginning of a novel is the most crucial and carries the weightiest burden of any other scene or chapter in your entire book.

The opening scene must convey so many things that often the author will have to rewrite it numerous times to get it right, and sometimes the best time to rewrite the opening scene is when your novel is done. Why? Because at that point you have (one hopes) developed your rich themes and motifs, thoroughly explored your protagonist’s heart and character arc, and have brought your plot to a stunning and satisfying conclusion.

Your Opening Scenes Support the Entire Novel

Since the first one or two scenes carry the burden of the whole book, if they don’t have the correct structure to hold back the tons of dirt [read: the next 70,000 words or more] overhead from falling, you’re looking at a potential (or probable) collapse of the whole story. No way will the miners make it to the heart, where the big pocket of gold awaits. More than likely they will be choking on dust and crawling and clawing their way back out to a place they can lick their wounds, clean up a bit, and ponder how in the world they will find another way in. Whereas, they could have successfully journeyed to the heart had they but taken the time to reinforce the entrance.

Starting Is Better Than Finishing

There’s an ancient proverb that goes like this: “Finishing is better than starting.” And therein lies great wisdom, to be sure. I can start a whole lot of projects, but the real test of perseverance, success, and merit is in the finishing. However . . . when it comes to writing a great novel, starting is more important than finishing—at least when it comes to the importance of your major story elements. If you have every essential thing in place in your first scene, you will have set up the entire book in a way that will lead you wonderfully to the finish line.

The First-Page Checklist

I am often asked to do one-on-one critiques at writers’ workshops and events, and because those appointments are usually a scant fifteen minutes long, I came up with a way to dive into each writer’s story in that short time. They are instructed to bring page one of their novel, and in that short span of time I read it, then go over a number of important elements that need to be on the first page—using my handy “First-Page Checklist.”

Granted, not everything on the list must be on page one, but the idea is to be aware of all the elements needed to appear early in a novel—in order to set up that strong entrance to the mine. I believe that the closer to page one you can get all these components, the better. I have heard other writing instructors say similar things in their workshops as well.

Without sending you into cardiac arrest by listing nearly twenty important items you need in that first scene, I’m going to concentrate on some important ones—the ones that really need to be considered.

So here for easy reference (and also here, as a pdf you can download) , is the First-Page Checklist.

First Page Checklist

____ Opening Hook: Clever writing and image that grabs the reader

____ Introduction of main character in first few lines

____ Starting the story in the middle of something that’s happened (or happening)

____ A nod to setting; avoid excessive exposition or narrative

____ A catalyst, inciting incident, or complication introduced for your character

____ A hint at character’s immediate intentions

____ A hint at character’s hidden need, desire, goal, dream, fear

____ Unique voice/writing style

____Setting the tone for the entire book

____ A glimpse at character’s personal history, personality—shed light on motivation

____ Introduction of plot goal

____ A course of action/decision implied: introduction of high stakes/dramatic tension

____ Pacing: jump right into present action. No back story

Think of:

·        One characteristic to reveal that makes your character heroic and vulnerable

·        One element of mystery, something hinted at that raises curiosity

·        One element out of the ordinary, unusual, that makes your book different/stand out

·        Concise, catchy dialogue (if in the first scene) that is not boring or predictable

·        A way to hint at your theme, if you have one

You don’t want to be that miner who is left scratching his head at the collapse of his mine shaft after an earthquake, wondering what he did wrong. Just as with anything you build, it’s all about the foundations—the materials and design used to ensure that structure you have delineated on those blueprints will stand the test of time.

You can “build” you novel so it, too, stands the scrutiny of critics and has lasting power as it speaks to untold people regardless of time or place. With careful planning, you can make it to the heart of your mine and load up your sack with gold. Take the time to shore up the framework of your novel’s “entrance.” In doing so, you’ll learn how to construct a firm entrance for your mining operation that it will serve you time and again with each novel you write—leading the reader to the heart of your story.

C. S. Lakin is a multi-published novelist and writing coach. She works full-time as a copy editor and critiques about two hundred manuscripts a year. She teaches writing workshops and gives instruction on her award-winning blog,Live Write Thrive. Her latest book—Say What? The Fiction Writer’s Handy Guide to Grammar, Punctuation, and Word Usage—is designed to help writers get a painless grasp on grammar. You can buy it in print here or as an ebook here.

Connect with her on Twitter and Facebook.

Guest Post: The Burden of Your Novel’s Opening Scene is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Is Your Story Worth Saving?

Of course it is.  It’s yours.  Nobody can nor should they tell you it’s not worth the time to try to save it.

But when it isn’t ready to come out into the light, when it doesn’t really have a shot as is — because on this website and in my story evaluations, this is about PROFESSIONAL-level storytelling — someone absolutely should tell you it needs… whatever it needs.

Really, though, sometimes that assessment in the harshest degree — even when it’s fair and accurate — is more an issue of semantics than it is a pronouncement of death.  Even when it is.

Because anything can be revised.  Sometimes, to the point where absolutely everything in the proposed story has been rethought and rebooted.  Because someone on the other side pointed out why it wouldn’t work otherwise.

Like people with a pulse, stories require certain minimum elements, essences and chemistry to work.  Only here it’s a matter of opinion — someone’s opinion — that makes that call.  The idea, the goal, is to arm yourself with the ability to make that call.

Even doctors in the ER have to make that call on patients… the point at which they “call it” and put away the paddles.

Which poses a rhetorical question:

In the case of a story that has been completely rebooted, have you just “saved” the story, or have you used the experience of the former story to lead you to a better story?

It doesn’t matter what label — first aid, polish, or resurrection from the dead — you put on the resultant reboot process and product.  What matters is understanding when and why this discussion applies to you, and then, what you need to do about it.

Sometimes the news that your story isn’t good enough is the best news of all.  Because you probably thought it was good enough.  The dispenser of that verdict has just, in some combination, given you new hope, a plan, and the saving of several months of pain and/or work.

Even when the thing is dead on arrival.

Whether you listen, or not, is your call.  It, and what you do about it, is a call that makes or breaks your writing dream.

My Job Sucks Sometimes

As a story coach I get up every day to stare down the throat of stories that need help.  It’s the nature of the story coaching beast… if it didn’t require coaching it wouldn’t be on my screen.  That’s why I charge money for this (in addition to the result being invaluable to the writer), because sometimes it’s like trying to turn a 98-pound weakling into its proud parent’s vision of it becoming a first round draft choice… like, soon, after a few more pushups.

And yet, the only way to take that kid/project to that level is to whip up a Captain America level resurrection (you’ll recall he was, literally, a 98-pound weakling who died, then was rebuilt in a lab and zapped back to life, complete with a new body, a new brain and a new mission in life).  That kid wasn’t “saved,” he was essentially replaced.

Make the leap from that analogy to a story that isn’t working at it’s most basic defining level… and you’ve just joined the conversation here.  Save it?  Try to breath life into it by medicating the symptoms instead of the cause?

Or do you reinvent it?  That’s the author’s opportunity.

Here’s what I believe to be true: at the end of the story coaching day… no, every story cannot be saved.

More often than I care to say (and you really don’t want to know), the degree of help required to make a story viable leans into the aforementioned analogy, a story so lacking in weight (while burdened with the misguided hubris of its creator) it’s like a newborn brought into the world without bones or muscle or — again, much too often — a brain.

But dang, that thing was so cute back at square one.

The problem is this: writer has what they believe to be a cool notion for a story… but it’s challenging, complicated, even out there, so writer makes some leaps, asks the reader to suspend logic and belief, then faces more stretches and concoctions just to connect the dots… and before you know it you have the CIA coming to a shy 14-year math whiz  (the hero of this story) with an alcoholic parent to save the world because, gosh darn it, there just enough really smart people in dark rooms in a CIA facility that can save the world after all.

If your wimpy teenage hero has to hack into National Security servers to get the information required to save the world, when all the police and secret agents and military might on the planet haven’t been able to do just that… then odds are your story is Dead on Arrival.  It’s been stretched and bended to death.

It’s like lying.  You tell one, it’s a whopper, and then you have to keep heaping lie after lie after lie on top of it to justify the pieces of the original whopper just to seemingly hold the whole teetering facade together.  But oh, that first lie… it was so beautiful.  If only it were true… and so, you bend all logic and reason to make it true in your story world.

But here’s the deal: you really can’t turn a really bad story idea into a really good story, or a really non-heroic protagonist (you wouldn’t believe how many “heroes” with backstories in which they are insecure, unloved, timid, frightened pop up… newsflash: Superman came out of the womb with powers beyond what any human could dream of)… without replacing that idea and that backstory with a better one.

Bend all you want… but it is that bending and stretching of logic that kills your story as much as the eye-rolling nature of the premise in the first place.

The trouble with this whole business — the business of writing publishable fiction, fiction that sells — is that this is a moving, imprecise, often invisible bar we’re reaching for here.  This is why everybody who tries doesn’t get there.

It’s why professional storytellers — those who have earned the nametag not because of track record, but because of the craft at their command – do.

The sweet spot for all of this resides at the intersection of concept and premise. 

Which leads to a dramatic question.  Which connects to a hero called up to answer and resolve that question.  Which, when perceived as compelling without the need to bend it into something else entirely, becomes the DNA of a story with a shot.

Somewhere in that simple equation writers are deluding themselves into believing they’ve broken the code.  When in fact, their ship is taking on water and won’t make it out of the harbor into the open ocean of an unspooling story.

When you write a story, you are owning the conceit that you know what others will find compelling.  Think about that for a moment… and then look in a mirror and ask if that’s you.

Revision is common. 

It’s expected.  A part of the deal.  A fulfilling phase of the storytelling journey.

Unless it’s an attempt to breath life into the stillborn by bending and stretching the capacity of a reader to believe.  Into an equation that doesn’t add up, and won’t mean anything if and when it does as a result of all the bending of the math required.

Unless the thing is just plain dead already.  If it is, you need to hear it from the perspective of a professional, someone who knows the difference between a player that belongs on the field and one who needs to stay in the concession stand.

What’s frustrating about my job — I think this just turned into a bit of a rant — is that I keep getting stories sent to me that are in, or have both feet already dangling toward — that abyss from which there is no return.

The Fix

The ONLY THING that can prevent that — for you, for me, and in general — is a heightened awareness of what makes a story work.  Which is a story sensibility that arises from, is built upon, the mechanics of how a story is assembled, and is fueled by a concept and a premise (they are different… recognizing that alone is half the battle) that has enough energy and potential in its DNA to give the story a shot at a future.

It is, pure and simple,  story physics.  Dramatic tension arising from a compelling (key word, right there) dramatic question, leading to a hero who must DO something in pursuit of a worthy goal.  That’s it, in the proverbial nutshell.

When the goal is to render those narrative physics to the page, it happens only from a solid foundation of storytelling craft (what I call the six core competencies of storytelling) that seizes that concept/premise promise and molds it into narrative gold.

The trick resides in recognizing what that concept/premise DNA consists of (hint: I just told you what it consists of), then summoning the craft to bring it to fruition over the arc of a story that is artfully assembled and rendered.

You can get all six of the core competencies right… and the story can still sink like a stone tied to the foot of a protagonist who never stood a chance.  Just as you can put makeup and clothes on a store mannequin or a corpse that looks like a person, that is in fact beautiful and mesmerizing… but it still can’t walk across a room.

That’s the thing about a good concept.  Many stories can arise from it.

Our job is to pick the right one, the best one.  The one that stands a chance in hell in a business in which there really isn’t one, if the statistics are to be believed.

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Click HERE to read more about Story Physics, and HERE to read more about the Six Core Competencies of successful storytelling.

Click HERE or HERE (for a shorter, less expensive level that focuses on concept and premise) to learn more about holding your story plan up to the harsh but liberating light of analysis from a story coach who won’t judge your story, just the DNA it’s built upon.

Prices for story coaching will increase on May 1, 2014.  Those who opt in now will lock in the current fee, regardless of when the submit the materials involved.

 

Is Your Story Worth Saving? is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Case Study: Heroes and Villains and Readers Who Can’t Tell the Difference

Let’s call him Joe.

Joe is another of those courageous writers who consented to running their coaching Questionnaire answers (the Kick-Start concept/premise evaluation), with my feedback, here on Storyfix .  He turned me down at first, uncomfortable with the notion that someone out there might want to “borrow” from his concept.

I assured him this wasn’t at risk.  In fact, that in a forum like this, that’s almost zero risk.  Not because the concept won’t spark a moment of envy — it might, actually — but because in a community like this, story ideas are like dreams… we all have them in abundance, and often we wake and don’t remember what all the nocturnal fuss was about.  And even if we do remember, they aren’t worth anything (including being stolen) until they are executed well.

That’s the hard part.  Go ahead, steal an F-35 stealth fighter plane, see what you can do with it.

I wanted to share this because Joe came to this process very enthused.  He didn’t say it, but I think he believed he was ready to write the story, and that it was a solid plan, even that it was a potential bestseller.  To be the bearer of bad news isn’t my idea of a good time, but like a doctor (okay, a vet or a mechanic, if that seems less self-aggrandizing) delivering a diagnosis and a therapy plan to someone who really didn’t know they were terminal, I have no other choice.

The writer pays for just this type of feedback, the kind that will save you a year of your life writing a draft that won’t work, going away with a notion of roadmap that will save the story, or at least give it a chance.

The problem here is, once again, a concept and a premise that don’t know one from the other, and then a story plan that doesn’t live up to the missions and criteria of the various elements.  Joe had read — studied, he assures me — Story Engineering, so this evaluation reflects a common challenge for the new writer.

In essence, this stuff is a lot harder than it looks.  An idea you are passionate about does not legitimize the compromise or redefinition of what a novel requires.  That’s like saying a supermodel can be a good actress, simply by the jaw-dropping nature of their looks.

You can’t shortcut it, you can’t bend the definitions, and most of all, you can’t/shouldn’t confuse your passion for a story idea with the discipline of getting the moving parts in the proper form and function to make that idea work.  In this case I don’t think Joe was “bending” the definitions, per se, but rather, that he hadn’t really wrapped his head around them.

Don’t let your killer story idea blind you to what must be done with it.  Those are the very things that make your killer story idea WORK, no great idea ever has stood alone.

As usual, your input is appreciated.  This is an concept and a theme that can work, should work, but (IMO) needs a complete architectural overhaul before it will.  Let’s help him get there.  You’ll see that I’ve mounted a soap box toward that end.  In reading again before this posting, I was tempted to add even more feedback… but I’ll leave that to you guys for now.

You can read the feedback to the story plan here: Bully concept.

(I’ve additional feedback in the comment thread below; it’s the #2 placed comment, after Robert Jones’ usual brilliant take on it all.)

Click HERE and HERE for more on these coaching programs.  “Save a year of your life…” just sayin’. 

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Here are some conference/workshop dates on my calendar, in case you’re in a traveling sort of mood (or you already live on the West coast).

May 16-18, Wenatchee WA — the annual “Write on the River” conference.  Click HERE to see a summary of the sessions; I’ll be doing a 101 structure workshop on Saturday, and a three hour Master Class intensive on Sunday morning for those who want a Big Picture context.

May 22 — I’m doing an online webinar for Writers Digest University, an upgrade reprise of a session called “From Good to Great.”  Look for signup details soon (click HERE to read a summary of the previous version of this; the analysis included will be different, and the content shifted toward front-end viablity… just what Joe needs in the case study above).

July: stay tuned, I’ve been invited to teach in Beijing — not a typo — in conjunction with the Chinese publisher who is releasing Story Engineering there, in their language.   Never been there, travel tips happily accepted.

August 1-3, Portland OR: teaching once again at the Willamette Writers Conference, doing three sequential sessions on building your story from the idea (blank page) up.

August 15-17, Los Angeles CA: the West Coach Writers Digest Conference — A Novel Writing Intensive.  This just came in as I was writing this post, but I’m so in.   May be doing a day-before “masters” class (a separate ticket), as well.  I did this one last year, a really amazing experience.  Check back for updates on specific sessions, and check all the Writers Digest online venues (and the magazine) for registration info.

October 3-5, Edmonds WA: doing a Friday intensive (long) sesssion at the annual “Write on the Sound” conference (not to be confused with the Wenatchee WA “Write on the River” conference… those WA writers really like their bodies of water).  A great event, lots of great sessions all weekend.  Website is not yet updated, check back for registration (it’s still early, many conferences don’t open up registration until 10-12 weeks prior).

October 11-12, Tampa FL: presenting at a retreat for the Tampa Area Romance Authors (TARA).  Not sure if you have to join to attend, but I’m betting they’d love to see some new faces.  (Same story, website needs updating on this retreat, but there is general contact info available.)

October 24-26, Surrey, British Columbia: presenting at the Surrey International Writers Conference (specifics to be determined; check the website later, like the others).

 I’ll update these as information hits the airwaves.

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New Review Online

As I’ve mentioned, my first published novel, Darkness Bound, (Onyx; it was my USA Today bestseller), was published in 2000, and has been recently republished by by Turner Publishing, who published my entire backlist in conjunction with the release of Deadly Faux.

Well, a reader has posted another review of the novel, which you can read HERE.  The story is dark and dangerous and sexual (be forewarned, if not enticed), but in a good way, and Wayne’s review is a nice overview of the steamy  psychological context of the story.  (The cover shown is from the original edition.)

*****

 

Case Study: Heroes and Villains and Readers Who Can’t Tell the Difference is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

The Road to Publication: One Novel’s Bumpy Ride

Today’s post is the story of a novel’s journey from inception to publication. 

This is an excerpt from my new ebook, “The Inner Life of Deadly Faux,” which I introduced (and offered… for FREE) in the post just prior to this one.  (You can get it here: PDF DF Inner Life.)

If you’ve published a novel, you’ll relate to this harrowing, nail-pulling tale.  If you haven’t, but want to… this is what it’s like for most of us.

This chapter is only one small part of a 114 page ebook that was written for the purpose of decontructing the underlying novel.  In other words, as a tool.

So if you read it and want to opt in to the free Ebook, you can just skip this and dive right into the workshop portion, which is in-depth and reflective of the Six Core Competencies and Six Realms of Story Physics models (without seeking to reintroduce or define them, that material resides in my two writing books, Story Engineering and Story Physics.)

If you’d like the free ebook, and you missed the link earlier, click here: PDF DF Inner Life.

Hope you enjoy this little rocky ride down one writer’s memory lane.

Deadly Faux: The Road to Publication

Deadly Faux, the novel, is a sequel.  As such, that defines it’s starting point: the return of the protagonist from the earlier novel in a subsequent story, resulting in what is now officially a series (because there is a sequel).

The book was written – little known factoid here – in 2006, on the heels of the critical (certainly not commercial) success of the preceding novel, Bait and Switch (2004).  Bait had been the second of a two book contract with Signet (the first was Serpent’s Dance; that contract was my second two-book contract with Penguin-Putnam)), and for reasons that are complex (see the next few paragraphs), the book didn’t “sell through.”  Which means, it didn’t earn its advance back (the drawback of a healthy advance; you’re judged on that particular metric, even if you sell tens of thousands and still come up short… which was the case here).  I got to keep the money, but the downside is they didn’t want to opt-in for a new contract.

Which means, the publisher said “no” to a sequel to Bait and Switch… the novel that is now entitled Deadly Faux. 

The original title was Schmitt Happens, which everyone involved seemed to like in the beginning, and then a few years later when I took the book back to market, some seemed appalled by it.  (My new agent didn’t like the Deadly Faux title all that much, either; she didn’t think people would understand the double meaning of the word “faux,” but the new publisher didn’t agree.)

The no-go on a new contract occurred six months prior to the release of Bait and Switch.  Not good.  Because it meant that the publisher would do next to nothing in the way of promotion, which turned out to be accurate.  While they’d taken out a quarter page add in USA Today for my last novel at the time, Serpent’s Dance, there was no advertising budget for Bait.  They had bought premium shelf space in the bookstores for all three ealier novels, they didn’t for Bait. 

All of which meant that when the rep for Penguin sat down with the buyer for Barnes & Noble and Borders, the size of the orders for Bait was only a fraction of the prior books.

That’s the whole ballgame at the brick and mortar retail level: the size of the order.  Which defines the visibility of the book in the store.  Paperback originals do not get major (or any) review coverage, so there is no pull in that regard, you could write a Pulitzer Prize winner and it wouldn’t sell until it actually won the award. 

Shelf real estate is everything.  And it totally depends on the size of the order, the fame of the author, and the commitment of the publisher to pimp the thing in the market.

Then something really cool happened.  Bait and Switch came out to stellar reviews.  Publishers Weekly in particular flipped for it, gave it a starred review, named it their lead Editors Choice (July, 2004) ahead of other nods to, among several others, Jeffrey Deaver and Walter Mosley, and at year-end named it to two lists: Best Novels of 2004 (mass market), and Best Overlooked Books of 2004 (the only paperback so-named).

Penguin remained unmoved.  Not an extra dime was thrown at it after those critical notices, because I was already dead to them. 

The book had it’s quick run and then it went away.

My agents at the time, alarmed at suddenly having an author with the didn’t-sell-through stigma, dumped me like a worn out shoe (loved me, they said, but they didn’t like the book enough to believe it could latch on with this black cloud over my name… funny, they liked it just fine before Penguin passed on it).

Several years of personal writing hell ensued.

I wrote a novel entitled Whisper of the Seventh Thunder, which a very small press picked up.  Again, without major reviews and no bookstore visibility (because bookstores hardly ever – and this is still the case – pay any attention at all to small POD presses, even when they are legit business enterprises), the book didn’t make a dent.  It did win the Thriller category in the 2010 Next Generation Indie Awards, which, while rewarding, did absolutely nothing for the book’s visibility.

The people who knew me at Penguin were now history (the company was purchased by an off-shore entity, who brought in new management; they told my agents they were moving toward “chick lit” rather than thrillers, something that was true for about a month), but my editor there (Dan Slater, who had, after being on the wrong end of that transition, caught on at Amazon as a major project development pro)  was willing to help me find a new agent.  Using the significant industry clout of his name, I received invitations to submit Schmitt Happens to 11 major New York based literary agents, most of whom you’ve heard from.

I went zero-for-11. 

Of those, several wrote a note saying, in effect, that both books (Schmitt Happens and Whisper of the Seventh Thunder) were solid, and would likely end up being published (they were right)… but the sales track record, particularly of Bait and Switch, despite its critical claim, had basically made me a pariah in the business.  Wouldn’t touch me with surgical gloves.

This is why so many writers become alcoholics.  I somehow avoided that… but I understand.

I should add here that I did hook up with a New York agent who really liked Schmitt Happens, and over the next year he leveraged personal contacts to submit the novel to a handful of major houses.   No takers, same story.  Then the submissions suddenly stopped… he told me we needed to wait this out for a year or so, and/or start writing under a pen name.  So I decided to cut those ties (nice guy, he tried) and seek new representation for both my writing craft books (this was in 2010) and the corpse of Wolfgang Schmitt, who was in a coma somewhere on my hard drive.

Meanwhile I ghost-wrote a novel and a screenplay based on it… long story there.  I have no idea what happened to them, only that they will never bear my name.  Great client, nice paycheck, no upside. 

I launched Storyfix.com in 2009.  It took off nicely, and using that platform I was able to publish Story Engineering in 2011, and Story Physics in 2013.  Both writing books sold pretty well, at least within the limits of such a narrow niche, and suddenly I had reinvented myself as a writing teacher/mentor/guru type, leveraging my 25 years of teaching writing workshops and generally trying to figure this whole thing out. 

I now had a platform, a key word for anyone seeking to publish non-fiction…  and virtually meaningless for a new writer seeking to publish fiction.

Nonetheless, Wolf wouldn’t let me alone.

I began reaching out to regional agents (which means, they don’t live in New York) with a national client base.  Using a personal connection (absolutely the best way to find an agent, bar none), I aligned with my current agent, who jumped aboard with rewarding enthusiasm, both for the new Wolfgang Schmitt novel and Story Physics (Story Engineering was already out there… this made all the difference in this new push for both an agent and a new publisher for Schmitt, because it was somewhat well known).

It took her only a few weeks to land a publisher for Deadly Faux. 

My new agent joined a chorus who really didn’t like the Schmitt Happens title.  And so I went on the hunt for a new title, landing on Deadly Faux at about the same time she succeeded in placing the book with Turner Publishing, who would also republish my entire backlist (the rights to which had reverted back to me from Signet).

It was seven years from completed manuscript to the release of the book.

And now, as I write, this, all four of the Penguin books are out there under the Turner imprint, with The Seventh Thunder (we shortened the title) set for release in December 2014.

All we really have control over is the manuscript, and the quality of our efforts once it’s done. 

The only sure outcome is quitting.

****

Wanted to share this news, just in: the new edition (May/June) of Writers Digest Magazine announces their annual 101 Best Websites for Writers list.  For the third year in a row, Storyfix.com is included, under the “Writing Advice” category (which has 21 sites so-named).

Thanks to all who have been with me on this journey, and welcome to all of you who are new to this community.

 

The Road to Publication: One Novel’s Bumpy Ride is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Free Ebook, a Unique Learning Opportunity

Sometimes writers write books about writing.  Stephen King comes to mind, among many others.

Sometimes — much rarer — writers write books about a specific book they’ve written, or someone else comes forward to write about that book (John Steinbeck, for example, as well as biographies of iconic authors that discuss specific works).

But I’m not sure anyone has written a book about a novel that isn’t or wasn’t an iconic bestseller.  At least (says the hopeful blushing author) yet.

A book completely focused on, and dedicated to, the reader (in this case, the reader being a writer) and the elevation of their level of storytelling skill.

Until now.

The only way this works is if something valuable and unique is delivered to the reader/writer audience.  Otherwise it’s an exercise in hubris.  And it helps (at least it would if had been done before, which it hasn’t, to my knowledge) when three things are true:

A.  The book-about-the-underlying-novel is a teaching tool, illustrating the key principles of storytelling at work within a functioning novel, as well as shining a light on the road to publication, which in this case took years.

Sort of like a medical school lab, with the subject residing motionless while being dissected; in this case, though, the subject isn’t dead, it still has legs).

B.  The novel itself has gained positive reviews.  In one case, from a known writing mentor who compares the author to Raymond Chandler.

C.  The author has some equity (credibility) in both the arena of writing novels and writing books about writing novels, especially the latter.

That author, in this case, is me.  If you aren’t aware of my writing books, see the right-hand column here, and know that “Story Engineering” has been a bestseller in this niche for nearly three years now.

The Novel, the Ebook, and the Mission

My latest novel, Deadly Faux, was published by Turner Publishing last October.

The reviews, especially that blurb from James Frey (again, see the right-hand column for that, in full), are what allow me to risk a perception of hubris to press forward on the writing of an Ebook that is about the creation, structure, physics and writer-to-writer insider stuff…

… all for one reason: to extend my mission here, which is to define, illustrate and encourage the understanding and practice of an elevated level of craft relative to the writing of stories.

Yes, it occurred to me that this might sell a few copies, too.  I could pitch that as an example of thinking outside of the traditional marketing box.  But the fact remains that the Ebook stands alone as a teaching tool for writers seeking to see the principles in action within a viable story, though it’s conveniently true that the Ebook is less effective for those who haven’t read the novel than for those that have.

The Ebook is called The Inner Life of Deadly Faux.  You can download it as a 114-page PDF here, for FREE:

PDF DF Inner Life

There is a tragic love story about the book’s inception, writing and rocky road to publication.

You’ll see all six Core Competencies culled out, as well as all six realms of Story Physics.  You’ll understand how none of that occurred by accident, and yet, how all of them evolved and sharpened through the writing of the novel.

You’ll see the unedited version of the opening chapter, which was strategically trimmed for the final version (at my agent’s suggestion; the point is to show how effective trimming the fat can be).

You’ll read a chapter by chapter commentary on the novel itself (greatly condensed), not unlike the “director’s commentary” as an extra on the DVD release of a movie.

No strings.  Buy the novel first (for the best learning experience), or not at all (plenty of value there, too).  I’m hoping, of course, that the Ebook will entice you to see the story as it plays in published form.

One final note: this Ebook was part of a “gift with purchase” offer prior to and shortly after the book’s release.  Hundreds of you opted in, and I’ve heard from many that the Ebook is a valuable and rare writing workshop that made their experience of the novel itself even more fun and rewarding.  I appreciate all of you who opted in.  But the time has come to make this offer on a wider basis, and the end-result should put these takers on equal ground with you: buy the book, get the Ebook, though for many it may execute in reverse.

Let me know your thoughts.  And for those who read Deadly Faux, I could always use a few more Amazon reviews.

*****

Warning: Story Coaching Price Increase Coming Soon

For a while now I’ve felt there is a disconnect between the price I’m charging for both levels of my story evaluation service (see banner above this post for links to summaries of both of these levels, currently $50 and $150).

It seems several of my peers agree, as well as more than a few writers who have opted in.

Like a clarifying “talk” (read: knock upside the head) to a confused or wayward college freshman, the value delivered far exceeds the price and extends far beyond the process itself.   In short, it can save you, and your novel, years of frustration.

So mid-month (April), I’m going to raise those prices, probably to $95 and $225, respectively, with a corresponding expansion in the maximum word count for both formats.

We get what we pay for.  This new pricing will bring more equity to that equation, since I’m consistently over-delivering, as is.  There is nothing more critical for a writer to nail — to get right — than their concept, premise and structural strategy — which is what these services either confirm, enhance or dismantle within a forward-looking coaching context.

Free Ebook, a Unique Learning Opportunity is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Case Study: Staying in the Conceptual “Lane”

Here’s a good little case study, taken from my supposedly short (this turned out to be over 8 pages of feedback) $50 Conceptual Kick-Start analysis service.

As usual, props to the courageous writer who consented to share this.  Actually, she was delighted and enthusiastic when she found out there was a clear direction to take this, and she’s excited to hear your thoughts.

To tempt you further… this is a classic ghost story, with significant upside potential.  But for that to happen, certain things must be rethought and revamped.

Once again, this is a case of a muddy line between a proposed concept and the premise that springs from it, with one or both suffering from that lack of clarity.  An easy fix, when viewed through a new lens.

It’s also a cautionary tale on how easy it is to drift into another lane — often on-coming traffic — when the story proceeds without a clear blueprint and compellingly dramatic spine.

You are invited to weigh in.  I hope you get something out of this, as it’s a case of a perfectly good story with a perfectly common slippery slope… leading to a perfectly doable revision.

Read here: Case study in Concept vs. Premise

*****

If you’d like some of this for yourself, click HERE for the $50 Kick Start program (as used here), and HERE for the full meal $150 story plan analysis.

 

Case Study: Staying in the Conceptual “Lane” is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

ARCHETYPES: Empowering Source-Driven Characters and Plots

 

A guest post by Robert Jones.

You are invited to comment and engage, you’ll find Robert to be responsive, supportive and a wealth of clarifying mental modeling across the vast universe of fiction writing.

Archetypes have a universal power that, when tapped effectively, is proven to generate best-selling novels and films. The right combination of source-driven elements can shape characters that become larger than their creators: iconic symbols of hope, love, and courage for our time–even time immemorial.

SO WHAT’S AN ARCHETYPE ANYWAY?

The word Archetype, taken from the Greek, means First Pattern, a prototype from which subsequent thoughts, or forms, might be birthed. And if you like juicy thoughts, the kind that mingles with the fabric of creation itself, consider the term Archetypal Mind, suggesting a oneness with everything, universal ideas existing with greater reality than our current reality, a single creative force from which all else is made manifest.

Many proclaim authors to be the gods of our fictional universes, the Creative Force, from which we manifest our stories. Every story is spawned from a single seed forged within the mind of the author. Call it a conceptual notion, a thesis, a mission statement, or a First Pattern, it becomes the archetypal embryo, a single cell that divides and sub-divides into everything else. And since all things within a novel are really separate components (facets) that serve a single source, Archetypal Planning can give writers a variety of choices up front that leads to developing real story possibilities in an easy spill-down process from source to story path to characters.

7 MAJOR STORY ARCHETYPES

Imagine your story as its First Pattern (FP), a template of pure energy and imagination, ready to be impregnated with your conceptual vision. The first step is that a decision needs to be made concerning the type of story path you’ll be taking. This is where the 7 story archetypes are beneficial to writers.

The 7 story archetypes are templates, each charged with a specific agenda that help map story paths. Each layer in planning the archetypal story comes equipped with a new generation of developmental archetypes armed with their own guiding principles that serve writers with options. When considering the type of story that best suits your concept, looking at those 7 story archetypes helps you decide how best to shape your story in preparation for the major story milestones and ultimately the four-part structural grid. The seven major story archetypes are as follows:

Overcoming the monster

Rags to riches

The quest

Voyage & return

Comedy

Tragedy

Rebirth

12 Character Archetypes

The Innocent

The Orphan/Regular Guy or Gal

The Hero

The Caregiver

The Explorer

The Rebel

The Lover

The Creator

The Jester

The Sage

The Magician

The Ruler

There’s really only one Grand Poobah of an archetype for any story: Good Vs. Evil. All other alternatives are just sub-variations on this one universal archetype for fiction. Even if it’s a literary novel based on the inner struggles of a character, there is still a positive aspect doing battle with a negative aspect within the character. There’s always one goal to be achieved at the end of the tale, regardless of which side wins out.

HEROES AND VILLAINS AS ARCHETYPES

You’ve decided on your conceptual notion and story path. You’ve impregnated your FP cell with the seed of your vision. The next step is creating the dichotomy that man has struggled to overcome since we emerged from our own First Pattern. The cell divides. Enter your Hero and Villain.

These two rivals might look like separate entities, but both have uncoiled from a single FP and therefore have one common goal. They may share other characteristics as well. It’s just as important to ask what these two have in common as it is to question how they differ. There’s often a fine line between good/evil, right/wrong, yin/yang. And just like the yin yang symbol, both halves have inherited a part of one another: an eye that’s perpetually focused on the mission/goal/prize each is aiming for–though their methods may be as different as night and day.

It’s always about the battle between light and darkness. Once you’ve developed both sides of the argument, this becomes the archetypal core of your story.

12 MAJOR CHARACTER ARCHETYPES

Your FP cell has divided into the roles of hero (H) and villain (V). Your core conflict has been established. Now the H and V cells sub-divide into the rest of your dramatis personae. Will their mannerisms embody mystics or misfits, teachers or tricksters? This is where the 12 major character archetypes come into play, utilizing the next set of archetypal templates. Some of these character traits will be imprinted upon your hero and villain. The rest will be dispersed between other characters until your supporting cast has materialized. They will take the form of family members, friends, co-workers, employees, henchmen. Some will fall on the side of the hero, others will gather round the villain. Here are the twelve character archetypes:

Like the seven story archetypes, these templates offer much for your consideration while fleshing out your cast. Do you need twelve cast members? That’s your choice, depending on the demands and scope of your story. Joseph Campbell in describing the “The Hero’s Journey,” narrowed it down to seven. However, they are all combinations of the twelve.

If this is the first you’ve heard of the 12 (or the 7 story archetypes), or need to refresh your memory, the search engine on your computer can provide this information–some of it at great length. Much is offered in terms of characteristics and plot progressions your story may be imbued with.What we end up with at this point is a drop down menu for planning story paths and characters that looks like this:

FIRST PATTERN

Story Cell

(Concept/Seed/Thesis)

7 Story Archetypes

(Choices for story path)

HEROVILLAIN

(Yin-Yang/Core)

SUPPORTINGCAST MEMBERS

(Facets of FP/Core, Hero/Villain)

STORY STRUCTURE: AN ARCHETYPAL VIEW

All fiction is an archetype that displays life on a symbolic level. Story structure is the next template on the list for story planning, a blank canvas pre-cut to specific dimensions, waiting to become an entire universe divined by the writer’s creative power. As an archetype, story structure is patterned after the process all life takes when faced with a problem to overcome. What do we do when bad news comes knocking? We react by looking for quick fixes to make the problem go away. If the problem refuses to yield, we move forward to a point where we harness our energy and become the warrior. Armed with weapons and knowledge, we face our foe one last time, ready to live free, or die.

As a precursor to approaching the four-part structural grid, this method of archetypal planning will narrow your search for story and characters significantly. Especially for those who are just starting out and have not covered a lot of ground in terms of craft. But even the seasoned writer can gain insight by review. When a painter approaches their easel, they do so with photo reference, characters studies, and drawing pencil in hand. The canvas then becomes a less intimidating space to sketch their vision. Working with archetypes offers similar tools in the form of benchmarks, enabling writers to hit the four-part grid with concrete character markers (from the 12 character archetypes) and answers concerning your story path (7 story archetypes). All of which can be brought to story structure as pre-op tools.

PLAYING “WHAT IF?” WITH ARCHETYPES

When Mel Brooks and Buck Henry created Maxwell Smart, the lead character for the 1965 TV show and 2008 film, “Get Smart,” they asked themselves, “What if James Bond and Inspector Clouseau had a child?”

What if your hero and/or villain were the child of two famous archetypes? Who would they be? What habits of their parents might be worked into your characters that you have not previously considered? Novels, films, TV shows, even history, are filled with characters and people that have certain traits in common with yours. Consider the “Famous Parents Game” as a way to explore untapped potential. You may even stumble onto aspects from celebrated archetypes that can lend some of their iconic status to your own.

Another way to gain insight is to view movies with strong archetypes derived from a concept similar to yours. Try substituting your characters in place of various cast members based on the same archetypes. What possibilities might be discerned by placing your characters on someone else’s stage where they were born under a different set of circumstances?

ICONIC ARCHETYPES

Archetypes can be found everywhere:

Situations

Symbols

Settings

Characters

Plots

Myths

Legends

Fairy tales

All can, or have been, sources for some of the most famous stories ever told. I’m not talking about a retelling, but a whole new genesis based on an archetypal template.

J. R. R. Tolkien’s novels, “The Hobbit,” and “Lord of the Rings,” are examples of archetypes that have perpetuated themselves, outlived their author, and continue to spawn more children than bunnies in heat. And where those bunnies in Richard Adams’ “Watership Down” mirror certain qualities of the Hobbits, we begin to see how archetypes have inspired modern classics. “Star Wars” might have sprouted from “Lord of the Rings,” but do they look at all alike? No more than bunnies and Hobbits, yet they share a common name: Icon. They’ve taken on a life of their own fueled by archetypal energy. Every author hopes to create a character larger than life. And some writers bear children from parental archetypes that have already stood the test of time.

Some of the best known archetypes were created during the worst of eras throughout history. Which gives us another clue for generating icons.

Superman was the father of all superheroes, the archetype for an entire genre. Superman, the First Pattern of his nation, was created by two high-school students, writer Jerry Siegel and artist Joe Shuster. And as humanity gathered in fear of the approaching WWII, Superman became a symbol of hope that still thrives today.

One needn’t have super-powers, or even a super intellect to create an iconic archetype. We simply have ask ourselves–since we are currently living in a time of war against unseen terrorists and fear running rampant–what does the world most need today? Hope, love, freedom, courage? All of which are steeped in archetypal symbolism. How might you invest your hero with qualities lacking in the world? For what humanity lacks, does it not thirst for?

You may end up with a character that lives to see the dawn of the next century. Or a First Pattern who bears the children of eternity.

ARCHETYPES: Empowering Source-Driven Characters and Plots is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Case Study: The Square-One Death of a Story

Premise makes or breaks you.

 

Often before you write a single word of the story that your premise promises.

Only rarely can you make chicken salad out of a sow’s ear (to combine two apropos bon-mots).  Trying to do so is one whopper of a low percentage wager.

You think writing is art?  So is pegging the commercial and literary viability of a story premise.

It’ll kill your story, unless you kill it (different context) first.

This one is awkward. 

I’ve asked an author — who courageously consented — to allow me to share my feedback to his $150-Level Story Plan Evaluation with Storyfix’s craft-hungry readership.

Those of you who suspect I am a raging insensitive bully will be heartily rewarded.

The author and I have hashed this through, he’s accepted my apology for any tone issues that crossed the line (there are certainly some that nudge it, such was my level of frustration), and he says he sees the light.

I actually get (and give similar feedback) projects like this quite frequently (processed one today, in fact).  That’s the source of my obvious frustration — because I’ve written nearly one million words on his site about these principles, as well as two books — and the energy behind my recent focus on this idea/concept/premise black hole of story disaster and opportunity.  I’m amazed and gratified that, almost without exception, I get a thank you note rather than indignant outrage accompanying the accusation that I just didn’t get it.

Nobody said this was easy.  But people… think it through. 

Writing conference etiquette is such that nobody critiques the IDEA/CONCEPT/PREMISE level of a story, as if ANY story proposition is worthy of a manuscript. That you really can make anything work, if you can write well enough.

But in my experience (well over 400 of these in the last 18 months), easily HALF of the proposed stories were DOA (that’s Dead On Arrival, folks), precisely because the author put forth a story proposition that, in some combination, made no sense, would appeal to a miniscule fraction of any reading demographic, and, even if viable, jumped the tracks along the way to turn into something else entirely.

This one is a love story.  What the author deemed a romantic comedy.  I’ll be interested to see how many of you laugh.

Am I being too harsh?  Am I a cruel insensitive bastard?

Or… am I saving the story itself?  Empowering the next draft to a higher level of effectiveness?  That’s certainly my intention and hope, snarky tone and all.

You are invited to read and analyze this for yourself.  Feel free to leave you own feedback, if so moved, consider it a gift to the writer.  (I’ve covered the “what-were-you-thinking, dude?” part, so anything you feel helps him move forward would be appreciated.)

And in doing so, I hope you’ll experience the sensation of moving further along — up — the learning curve.  Nothing says “ah-hah!” like seeing principles put onto the field of battle, naked and exposed.

You can read it here: Story Plan Autopsy – DOA, and then some.

I hope you grab this opportunity.  This is a rarely seen glimpse of a story’s birth – often ugly and bloody – in a world where all we have normal access to are published works in bookstores and online.  While modeled competency is valuable, it can be hard to learn from that which has been already polished, leaving the principles alone and isolated.

This analysis is a head-on collision between principles and execution… fasten your seat belt, you’ll see how easy it is to drift into the wrong lane.

May you never fall off the horse (onto the back of a shark you’ve just jumped) at Square One.

Here’s a little postscript to add some punch to this process.

The author has written four full drafts of the story described in this analysis.  He makes reference to “parts” by number in his notes, which are from another “story model” that, frankly, didn’t serve him.

He is about write his fifth… this time with some targets and criteria to shoot for.

Learn the craft.  Use the principles.  Think it through before you get to page one.

Because no matter what your process involves, any draft is better when you’ve envisioned it with the criteria of effective storytelling in mind.

*****

If you’d like to explore the relationship between an idea, a concept and a premise, and why this is critical if you want to publish and attract readers, scroll down to the post that ran just prior to this one (or click HERE), called “The Bermuda Triangle of Storytelling.   The discussion thread is particularly illuminating, especially the most recent entries (45 comments and counting, as of this writing).

 

Case Study: The Square-One Death of a Story is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

The Bermuda Triangle of Storytelling

Don’t Let It Sink Your Story Before It Leaves the Harbor

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“Idea” is one of the most dangerous words in storytelling. 

Every story begins with one, in some form… so what’s so dangerous about that, you ask?  Ideas are wonderful things, right?

In the most obvious conversational context, “idea” is a generic term for a creative unit of thought… certainly a good thing.  Bring on those creative units.

“I want to set a story in the future, on the moon,” is an example of an idea… that isn‘t a story yet.  It requires many more units of creative thought to become an actual story.  “Make it a love story…” that’s yet another idea, but still not a story.

Let’s allow that one to sit there undisturbed in this obvious and worthless generic context. 

Because there’s another take on idea that can, if not fully grasped, kill your story.  In fact, this one explains a significant percentage of stories that don’t work or at least  don’t distinguish themselves, leading to a preponderance of rejection slips and bad word of mouth.

In this other more complex and critical context, the one serious writers need to wrap their head around, an “idea” is a loaded gun: what you do with an idea, what you understand about it as a storytelling asset, and most of all, where you point it, determines whether your story lives or dies.

By “do” with it, I’m not talking about how you write a draft.  Rather, I’m talking about what you put in the draft that exceeds the limited scope of a simple idea, or even a multi-faceted idea.

Add enough facets to your idea, and sooner or later you’ve reached the level of story treatment.  Which is closer to what you need, provided the criteria for a compelling treatment have been honored.

Seriously, there are certain percentage of writers out there who would take that previous idea I just mentioned – set a futuristic love story on the moon — and start writing a manuscript from it.  Hoping to discover the story along the way.  And, a depressingly large percentage of those writers won’t understand what they missed along that path…

… which will be something called concept, and something called premise.

Now, before you send me a nasty note… drafting as a means of story discovery is just fine, that can certainly work.  How you evolve an idea into a story isn’t the point today.  What happens to the idea in your process, whatever your process, is.

There is a preliminary layer of story awareness that resides between the idea and a draft. 

Some writers dwell on it, creating notes and outlines, other skip it altogether in terms of writing it down.  But no writer can afford to ignore it, because right there in that middle space is where the story takes form.  If the idea is  the story’s conception (seed meets egg) and the draft is birthed from that essence with an added layer of premise… then this idea-incubation phase is the nine-month long process of creating a life inside of you.

This true for any draft that finally works. 

What happens in that incubation phase is this: you summon a concept that defines the contextual landscape of the story (something conceptual in nature), and then you develop a premise set upon that concept.

Write a love story: that’s an idea.  Set it in a nunnery: that’s a concept.  Tell the story of a nun and an up-and-coming cardinal squaring off with their emotions as he fights off an accusation of child abuse… that’s a killer premise.

Why is it killer?  Because the premise adds inherent dramatic tension and heavy themes.  The concept only defines the landscape for either of those qualities.  And the idea that started it… that was just a door opening.

An Example You’ll Recognize

In The Hunger Games, the dystopian world and the Games themselves are the CONCEPT.  Katniss’s journey relative to the Games, to Peeta and to her ultimate role as the poster girl for rebellion… her confrontation with the President… that is the PREMISE.

Big difference.

So what was the author’s idea in the first place? 

It wasn’t the concept, and it wasn’t premise.  Those were brought to the party after an idea captured the author’s fancy.  That’s how it works, even when the idea is itself more concept or premise… you need to work backwards and forwards in that case.  As for Suzanne Collins, she was watching Survivor on TV when the Big Idea hit her.  She decided to develop a story around the idea that the most dramatic trials of human beings might someday be televised to the general public, live.

That was the idea.  Which wasn’t the concept, and which wasn’t the premise.  Which, considered alone, is merely a grain of sand on Idea Beach.

This idea-to-concept-to-premise  sequence (those last two are interchangeable in terms of which begets the other) is as true for pantsers as it is for story planners.  Unless your original idea IS a concept or a premise, chances are it lacks the depth and dramatic potential of a vivid or thematic story landscape.  Whether retrofitted back into a story after a draft or two (or more), or leveraged as the opening vision for the story itself, it is the concept/premise level of story richness that makes or breaks you.

It is what turns an idea, any idea, into a story worth reading. 

But not by writing the idea.  Rather, by cooking up the concept and premise that are inspired by it, and then writing a story.

I’ve been fried for suggesting that writing a story without an outline in place is… let’s call it inefficient. 

So be it.  It works that way for many, I have no problem with that.

But I’ll stand firm on this one: writing a story without a solid concept and premise in play is simply a recipe for one of two things: failure, or a massive rewrite.

Building Your Story On Idea Beach

If your target is high and you seek a publisher for your book, as well as a readership for it when that happens (or if you hope for viral word-of-mouth upon self-publishing), here’s an ugly little truth: it’s almost impossible to turn a bad or even a vanilla story idea into a great story through the application of craft.

Which renders the “story idea” itself  a major metric of the story’s inherent potential, even when it is unremarkable.  Where does it lead?  Have you given it enough rope, considered enough options, to make sure where it does lead is the best possible destination?

Like Suzanne Collins did with that Survivor idea?

Or did you just bang out a draft, propelled by the idea only, in the hope that something good would happen?

It challenges the writer to know what makes an idea rich and compelling (answer: concept and premise), and then what to do with it once that verdict is in.  Of course, in the privacy of our writing space we are alone with that determination, and thus is explained why so many books from good writers don’t make the cut: we may or may not be good assessors of what others will deem to be a good story idea.

We live and die with our acumen in that regard. 

The playing field is huge, thankfully, there’s a story landscape for everybody… but even then the writer needs to understand what must be done with and to an “idea“ before it has a shot at becoming a viable, compelling story.

I read and evaluate story plans (many of which represent drafts that have already been written) that are always executions of an idea… but too often of an idea only… without either a compelling concept or premise in play.  Or on the horizon.

This is fatal, almost always. 

I’ve written about it here at length.  Stories that are nothing more than collections of anecdotes illustrating a theme or an issue.  A tour of a history place or the observation of something that happened.  A character trying to “find herself” through a series of occurrences.  The biography of fictional lives.

These are all just ideas.  Too often there isn’t a story yet.  Because there is nothing (or too little) that is conceptual, and there is no dramatic opportunity or conflict that challenges a hero to earn the name tag (premise).

This type of thing is a story killer.  The relationship between an idea, a concept and a premise defines the Bermuda Triangle of storytelling, where well-intentioned writers too often set sail without the right navigation, sensibility or awareness to avoid being swallowed alive.

Surviving this Story Bermuda Triangle requires more than knowing how to swim (write nice sentences), or an interesting idea.  It’s knowing how to navigate the waters of a story, with a vessel that is strong and sea-worthy.

How good is your idea?  Wrong question. 

How compelling, how rich, how inherently dramatic and thematic is your concept, and the premise that springs forth from it?  That‘s the question you need to consider, to spend as much time as you need seeking answers to.

The key awareness here is to understand not only the difference between these three manifestations of storytelling intention (idea vs. concept vs. premise), but how they empower a story (or, when weak, cripple it) long before the manuscript itself is even written.

Remember, idea at its best only serves to send you toward something… either a concept or premise. 

But unlike your idea… the concept and premise need to virtually glow in the dark to get you where you want to be.  There are criteria for that, you don’t have to (or get to) make them up.

Trying to make an idea work, without considering either concept or premise… that’s a sailboat without a sail at all.

Trying to make a concept work without a premise… that’s a sailboat going in circles hoping to bump into something before you run out of fresh water and beans, or before a wave flips you upside down.

Trying to make a premise work without a concept… that’s setting out to cross an ocean without the boat being big enough.

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The Bermuda Triangle of Storytelling is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com