Larry Brooks's Blog, page 40

Game Changer: Create An Inner Dialogue Within your Hero, and Your Villain

Things we've talked about before:

-         your hero's inner demon, something that likely is explained by backstory and is an obstacle to what your hero seeks to accomplish in your story.  The exposure (to the reader) of this inner demon reveals a second dimension of character depth beneath the exterior one dimensional façade seen by the world;

-         the arena, or cultural landscape, within which the hero operates (and comes from), which exerts influence over who they were, who they are, and what they will become;

-         dialogue as a window into character.  Nothing says it better than the characters themselves.  Even if they're saying it to themselves.

Which is the point of today's post.

Allow me to make characterization even more complicated than it already is. 

If you can grasp this tricky inner dialogue concept, if you can turn the concept into a technique, then you'll have the chops to make your characters more vivid and visceral than you thought possible, except perhaps in a Lehane novel or a David Fincher film. 

Inner dialogue is precisely what they, and storytellers at their level, do so well.

To identify this, let's rip a page out of reality.  Just look around your life, you'll see it – if not hear it – going on everywhere.

People are constantly engaged in an inner dialogue.

With themselves.

It's not a verbal thing, per se.  People usually aren't muttering quietly to themselves, nor should your characters, unless that's part of their deal.

But there is a very clear, often palpable gap between one's inner thoughts and their exterior behavior and attitude.  That gap is something most people are dealing with right beneath the surface, sometimes 24-7.

The shy person who must contrive a air of confidence and warmth in a crowd.

The insecure person who walks through the world with a cloak of bluster.

The need to fit in, even when one realizes this isn't who they are.

Faking it in a marriage.  At work.  In church.

Sitting with friends at dinner in a nice restaurant, uttering not a single word, totally checked out.

Hiding hate, resentment, bitterness and fear behind a mask of calm.

Bad moods… that's an inner dialogue.  Good moods… same thing.  But sometimes all that inner noise isn't all that obvious.

And in fiction – if not at that dinner table – that's where the fun is.

This is a common human state of being. 

In life, and in fiction.

The extent to which someone – including your hero and your villain – recognizes the gap between their true thoughts, beliefs, preferences and comfort zones, and the way they choose to behave or appear in spite of them…

… that is an inner dialogue.  A constant tug of war within the psyche.  A devil on one shoulder, a angel on the other.  Or at least, the voice of reason.

If they have no idea how conflicted they are, well, that's a dialogue of another sort.  Don't kid yourself, though, most of us not in therapy usually know.  The façade, or the vacancy, is a choice.

So what to do with this?

Before you square off with this dramatic can of worms, think about it.  Go through a roster of people you know, and suddenly you'll realize how transparent the wall behind which this inner dialogue ensues can be.  The better you know the person, the more aware you are of what's going on inside them.

They think they're fooling everybody… but not so much.

Scary, isn't it.

Chances are, too, because you are human, you are among these inner conversationalists.  All the better to put this to use in your fiction.

Now imagine you're casting this person – or you — in your story. 

Imagine the possibilities of revealing that inner tension, the inherent contradiction as narrated by an inner dialogue, in a dramatic moment. 

Walking into a crowded room.  Lying about what you did last night.  Asking a girl out for the first time.  Feigning joy while considering suicide.  Whatever.

Recognizing this, you now have another arrow in your quiver of character building weapons.  Go as deep as you like, picking your moments to maximize revelation, tension and complexity.

First person narrative invites this.  But you can pull it off in third person, too.  Start to look for it in the work of names like Stephen King, Dennis Lehane, Jonathan Franzen, John Irving, and probably your favorite writer.

Not a coincidence… this ability to expose inner dialogue is part, a big part, of what got them to where they are today.

Heroes are obvious candidates for this. 

But if you can bring this complexity to your antagonists, as well – who may or may not be human, so write accordingly – you'll have achieved a new level of depth there, too.  A depth can will immediately set your story apart.

Nothing creates empathy quite like the revelation of humanity.  Eavesdrop on those inner dialogues and you'll bring a level of humanity to your main characters that will separate you from a largely one-dimensional pack of stories already in the mail.

Need more character?  My book, "Story Engineering: Mastering the Six Core Competencies of Successful Writing," goes deep and wide into all three dimensions of character. 

The first issue of the new Storyfix newsletter, "Writers on the Brink," is three days out.  Expect the unexpected.  Epiphanies encouraged.  You can opt-in — it's FREE, too — to the right at the top, just above the little monkey head.  That's me, by the way.  Really.

Game Changer: Create An Inner Dialogue Within your Hero, and Your Villain is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

What Writers Are Saying About… This Stuff

I've dropped nearly 500 posts on Storyfix.  About 425 remain in the archives, the others having migrated to various ebooks. 

Sometimes, when that little voice tells me it's time to get something new up, I feel like I've circled the wagons and don't have something fresh or worthy enough to add.

And sometimes that's when the best stuff happens.  Fear is a great motivator.  Stretching is a terrific mantra.  Reaching… not so much.

Goes for our fiction, too.  Step into the fear, but try to avoid stepping on those steamy little piles of, well, you know, that await along the path.

I had another topic in mind for tonight, but as i sat down to write, this one took over.  It'll keep.  Yeah, I'm pantsing my site sometimes. 

I get a lot of emails from readers.

Aside from the occasional and well-deserved wrist slap or correction – love those, too – the warmest and fuzziest of them are when readers tell me how the Storyfix take on craft is hitting them.  Changing them.  Awakening them to truths and points of leverage that they can apply to their own work.

Here are some recurring themes.

If you see yourself here, know that you are not alone.  And if you don't, well, there's value in revisiting the basics and principles that make a story live and breathe.  If someone else is getting this, maybe there's a limiting belief system — a fatal gene in the writing DNA — blocking it for you.

Here's what writers are saying about this stuff:

"I can't watch a movie now without seeing the four-part structure in play.  Amazes me that it's always been there and I haven't noticed it before.  I can't un-see it."

"I'm amazed to see everything you say about screenwriting applying so directly to writing novels.  Vice versa, too."

"Universal is univeral.  These principles apply to any kind of storytelling, period."

"I keep looking for a published story without a first plot point.  Still searching.  I hate rules, I want so desperately for this to be your opinion, rather than a universal truth.  So far it seems to be the latter."

"I used to be a panster.  Now I see the value in structure, guided by mission-driven narrative and its milestones.  It's the missing link for me.  Now I can continue to pants, but it's within a box that doesn't let me drive over a cliff."

"After reading some of the blow-back on today's post, I've concluded that our school system has not done an adequate job of teaching children what the work "formulaic" even means."

"It's amazing how free and creative one can be when writing between the lines of structural expectation.  Those who claim that structure is restrictive are being boxed in by their own refusal to acknowledge the gravity that governs the storytelling world."

"Don't let the bastards get you down.  In every crowd there is always someone who wants to gun down the voice of reason and clarity. Killing the messenger is a subconscious human drive, and some writers would rather type than listen."

"Because of you I now have to rewrite my NaNoWriMo novel from page one.  Because now I know how all-over-the-place it was.  Actually, I knew it beginning on about November 6th, but now I know why.  I can't wait until next year."

"Took me three years to write my last novel.  It sucked.  Took me three months to finish my new one, using the principles to which you ascribe. It doesn't suck.  Coincidence?  I think not."

"The principles you teach don't make writing easier.  They make it possible."

"It's like the fog parting." 

"Why do so many published authors stick to their position that they just sit down and write whatever comes to them in the moment?"  (Larry: because they don't know, or want to admit, that their sensibilities are already recognizing and applying the principles of story architecture and dramatic theory.  So much more romantic to claim that you're channeling some cloud-dwelling muse, which is a failed cover for a humble claim to genius. To say that "it just comes to them" is the antithesis of humility.  When an unsuccessful writer says this, it's an explanation.  When a famous one says it, it's hubris."

"Keep the analogies coming.  Great teaching tool.  My favorite: writing a story without understanding the underlying principles is like thinking you can do surgery because you watch a lot of Grey's Anatomy.  You can read all the John Grisham you want, but until you can dissect the layers and how he's building his stories, your patient won't make it off the table."

"So many people say there are no rules.  That's semantics.  Call them what you will, the principles that divide the inbox into two groups — those that work, and those that don't — don't care what you call them.  Natural laws are just that, in science and in art.  Gravity still sucks, literally, even if you can't describe how it works."  

"Top ten lists… my ass."

"I'm writing like a fiend now because of your direction– thank you so much."

And then, to be fair here, there's always a few like this, from an Amazon.com review on my book, Story Engineering.  It's my all-time favorite critique, from a 17-year old unpublished writer who seeks to straighten the rest of us out:

"Going into writing a book, yes, you need a game plan, but you don't need a roadmap, otherwise it's not YOUR story being told. Artists don't use the same sketches; builders don't take each other's blueprints. If the story if worth writing, then it will flow easily without too much coaxing.

Now, I hate to bring age into this, but I'm only 17. I am frantically working on a book that I hope to publish on Kindle late this summer. I have worked through many of the problems older writers have in just the past year or two. I have the story laid out pretty well, characters are mildly understood (isn't it always that way, though? Can you ever really understand your 'children'?) Some people may learn a lot from Mr. Brook's book, but I found as I read it that most of what was said I had already learned for myself. Again, I'm not trying to say that somehow I have bypassed the system, or have discovered a secret 'key', but everyone has their own way of writing, and mine is not with someone else's instruction."

L: So there.

Feel free to add to the conversation.  What has been your experience with the princples of storytelling and the underlying physics and principles that make it work?

Signed up for my new monthly newsletter yet?  First edition of "Writers on the Brink" comes out next week.  It may just keep you from jumping.

What Writers Are Saying About… This Stuff is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Further Perspective on Author Branding — You Are Forced To Choose Who You Are

And of course, to not choose is, in fact, a choice. 
 
One with consequences that are just as defining for your career as a writer.
 
This is a follow up to my most recent post, entitled "We read (INSERT YOUR NAME HERE) because…"
 
Several who commented online, and a few who contacted me directly, had a knee-jerk response.  They didn't want to write from within the confines of a brand.  They perceived doing so as selling out, and or sacrificing some of the joyous freedom of writing what they please, how they please.
 
Nothing wrong with that.  But there are consequences to that knee-jerk.  Because it is a choice.
 
Branding is nothing more than a requisite step in the process.  If one doesn't wish to proceed down the path, if they want to remain where they are, then feel free to ignore that particular step.   Remain a decathlete in a game that pays only sport-specific athletes.  If you claim you want to play professional football — and virtually everyone reading this website wants to earn and cultivate a readership for their stories; in other words, to turn pro) – then you're going to have to put down that javelin and stop jumping over those hurdles and line up with how the game is played.  With a helmet.
 
I hope you'll take it as the clarification it is meant to be…
 
… without the slightest intention of making anyone right or wrong.  Consequences are often non-judgmental, they just are.  Nothign wrong with trying to write a book in every single available genre you can name.  Have at it.  Just make sure your career goals, your vision for the outcome, aligns with that choice.
 
Imagine your kid wants to be a doctor. 
 
She or he will go to medical school, sure, and for the right reasons.  But when she's done, she says she wants to be a surgeon, an OBGYN, a heart specialist, a chiropractor, a shrink, and, when they feel like it, a shaman.  Fair enough.  That's some serious joy and freedom.
 
Usually a vision this scattered is coming from the mouth of a 11-year old who is a big fan of Greys Anatomy, which is fine.  Dreams have to start somewhere.
 
But the question, in light of that choice, at some point (like, the second year of medical school) becomes: what hospital is going to put you on their payroll?  Or, when you're in private practice, who will be your patients?

The issue of branding only kicks in at the professional level. 
 
Until then, write what you want.  But when you cross the threshold and you're writing for money, trying to build a career, and you have a publisher investing money in you (or, just as validly, you're investing your own money toward the objective of building a career), you now face a choice. 

To brand, or not to brand?  That isn't the question, it's the key to moving forward.  Like it or not.
 
Below is my personal response to one of the writers — a very good one, too — who wrote me on this issue:
 

Dear xxxxxx:
 
I think my response begins with something I put into the post itself: a writer needs to decide who they are writing for, and why.  If they are writing for themselves, for their own experience and pleasure and fulfillment, then by all means, swapping genres and brands and styles is perfectly okay.  It's okay because, for the most part, the outcome of the manuscript, by definition, is a lower priority than the experience.
 
To say otherwise is to not understand the reality of this proposition.  You can't claim to desire commercial success but remain immune to the realities of commercialism.
 
That said, it can work, most likely as a one-off, and within a short window.  Any one of those diverse projects might catch on with a publisher, might even sell well and begin a career for the writer.
 
And right there is where the choice must be made… again.
 
Because the publisher won't want you to change up the game.  If you sold a romance novel, and you've been offered a two book contract, rest assured that the publisher doesn't want a mystery as your second book, or a thriller, or a time travel piece.  In fact, they'll ask to review the "logline" of the second book before the contract goes through, just to ensure that you're going to stay within your new "brand."

And once again, you get to choose.
 
I've heard from several writers on this topic as a result of the last post.  One mentioned writing from a formula — I think that writer didn't fully understand the message here.  Being known for something, having a brand, isn't remotely formulaic.  Nelson Demille's witty, layered dialogue is the very antithesis of formula, as is Grisham's approach to showing an underdog hero battling the complexities and dark corners of the legal system.
 
So in addition to choosing, the process involves understanding.
 
Writing is the very essence of freedom.  At least it should be.  If you want to maintain that freedom completely and totally, then it's totally available.  Heck, you don't even have to finish a manuscript to experience it.  Just don't expect an outcome that includes a career with money and fame, because in that realm you're not alone.  Your publisher is, in effect, an employer.  Your books are the product, and they are, by definition and expecation and dead to rights, involved in quality control AND marketing.  In fact, they're running it all. 
 
For the latter (marketing), branding is critical.
 
Nothing wrong with choosing out of that game.  But be honest… writers who say they will never cave in to branding are also harboring a dream of making the A-list.  Which is a contradiction.
 
Tough truth.  It forces us to choose, to navigate reality.
 
Which is why I continue to believe that writing is life itself.  Not an analogy for life,  but as as a transparent Petrie dish within which we live it… exposed.

 
I think my response begins with something I put into the post itself: a writer needs to decide who they are writing for, and why.  If they are writing for themselves, for their own experience and pleasure and fulfillment, then by all means, swapping genres and brands and styles is perfectly okay.  It's okay because, for the most part, the outcome of the manuscript, by definition, is a lower priority than the experience.
 
This can work, too.  Any one of those projects might catch on with a publisher, might even sell well and begin a career for the writer.
 
And right there is where the choice must be made… again.
 
Because the publishe won't want you to change up the game.  If you sold a romance novel, and you've been offered a two book contract, rest assured that the publisher doesn't want a mystery as your second book, or a thriller, or a time travel piece.  In fact, they'll ask to approach the "logline" of the second book before the contract goes through, just to ensure that you're going to stay within your new "brand."

And once again, you get to choose.
 
I've heard from several writers on this topic as a result of the last post.  One mentioned writing from a formula — I think that writer didn't fully understand the message of the post.  Being known for something, having a brand, isn't remotely formulaic.  Nelson Demilles witty, layered dialogue is the very antithesis of formula, as is Grisham's approach to showing an underdog hero battling the complexities and dark corners of the legal system.
 
So in addition to choosing, the process involves understanding.
 
Writing is the very essence of freedom.  At least it should be.  If you want to maintain that freedom completely and totally, then it's available.  Just don't expect an outcome that includes a career with money and fame, because in that realm you're not alone.  Your publisher is, in effect, an employer.  Your books are the product, and they are involved in quality control AND marketing.  For the latter, branding is critical.
 
Nothing wrong with choosing out of that game.  But be honest… the writers saying they will never cave in to branding are also harboring a dream of making the A-list.  Which is a contradiction.
 
Tough truth. 
 
It forces us to choose, to navigate the choppy waters of reality.
 
Which is why I continue to believe writing is life itself.  Not an analogy for life, but rather, our writing and our choice to be a writer is a transparent Petrie dish within which we live it… exposed.
 
Interesting to note, too, that this same dynamic — choices, consequences and the expectations of the commercial marketplace — apply to the complexities of craft.  Which gets just as much resistence from writers who seek to reject it in the name of freedom, while at the same time nourishing a dream that unfolds in the window at Barnes & Noble.
 
This, too, is a microcosm of life.  Some get it, some don't.
 
Blatant commercial branding message follows: Need a hug?  Click HERE.

Further Perspective on Author Branding — You Are Forced To Choose Who You Are is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

We read (INSERT YOUR NAME HERE) because…

We write our stories for different reasons.  If one of them is to make a career of it – not simply to publish, but to last – you need to be able to finish that sentence for your readers with clarity and purpose.

You need to be playing the long game.

When you look at the regular names that claim a spot on the bestseller lists, and then ask yourself (and others) why you read them, you'll quickly realize how true this is. 

They have a brand, an expectation that they deliver to.

We read John Grisham because he always delivers an interesting slant on the law, and there's always an underdog being victimized by it.

We read Nelson Demille because his dialogue sizzles with cynical wit, his protagonists are self-depricating patriots who are the silent heroes we wish we could be, and the pursuit of the solution is always visceral and satisfying.

We read Stuart Woods because he doesn't mess around with narrative, he prefers dialogue that is short, snappy and simply loaded with appeal.  We overlook the silly stories just to hear the characters snipe at each other.

We read James Patterson because it goes down easy, digests quickly and you can knock  off a whole novel on a single leg of a trip, including layover.

We read James North Patterson because he tears into the nuances of the law in ways that actually make interesting sense, and we feel enlightened along the way.

We read Clive Cussler to live vicariously. Exotic lands, dangerous journeys, treasure and treason, all that Indiana Jones kind of stuff.

We read Jonathan Franzen because… well, my guess is because the critics say we should, and when we do we're ready for some cocktail party chit-chat, even if we have to lie about finishing.

I tried for that over the course of my five novels, but I didn't stay the course.

We read — and I use the term simply to stay in tune here — Larry Brooks because he takes us into dark little corners of ourselves we are afraid to admit we find delicious, along with some snappy (and snarky) dialogue. 

Trouble is, I distributed that particular brand — that's what we're talking about here, the writer's brand — across a sexy thriller, a techno thriller, an arena-dependant thriller, and a speculative apocalyptic thriller.  Some stuff stayed consistent, but I wasn't carving a deep enough niche.

The long game involves knowing who are as writers, and delivering it.  It can take a while to land on it — it can take years — and sometimes, when a book hits, it becomes our inheritence rather than our choice.  Whatever… branding works, and we need to understand it when we can.

Part of the process involves realizing we are not writing for ourselves as much as we are writing for an audience, one we are trying to grow.  Rare is the first book that defines a career.  And yet, when it gets some traction, even a little, reades and want more of the same.  Which is why it's best to focus on what jacks your wagon, rather than get stuck with some science experiement that ends up defining you.

Who are you as a writer?  And why will anybody care?

That's the question we need to keep posted next to our keyboards.

Who do you read?  What is it about their work that you know is dependable, that you look forward to with each new story?

is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

"Scheherazade" — A Guest Post from Art Holcomb

by Art Holcomb

Two pieces of paper hang above my desk.  

One is a quote (more about that next time) and the other is the picture below. It is from One Thousand and One Arabian Nights.

As the tale goes, the Persian King Shahryar would marry a new virgin each night only to slay them the following day. He had gone through a thousand virgins before he got around to Scheherazade, the daughter of the King's vizier; a woman who was witty, wise and – most importantly – well-read.

So as to avoid being slain, Scheherazade spun for the king a fabulous story but stopped in the middle.  So enthralled by the story was the king that he broke his rule for the first time and spared her life for a day so she might finish the story the next night.  

But the following night, Scheherazade finished that story and then started another – only to stop halfway through once more as dawn approached.  

The King spared her again.

This pattern continued for a thousand and one nights.  By the time Scheherazade ran out of stories, the king had fallen deeply in love with her.

I look at that picture and think about Scheherazade each time I work on a script.  She was THE consummate storyteller and understood that how you tell the tale is at least as important as the tale itself.  I try to always edit my own work with the image of a swordsman's blade waiting for me if I should ever lose my readers' or viewers' interest.

If the greatest duty of the writer is to the truth, then the greatest obligation has to be to not bore his audience.  And since the majority of my work is scriptwriting – with its tight time limits and page counts – I ask the same question of all my efforts:  

Is it dramatic enough?  

I have long subscribed to the famed screenwriter and playwright David Mamet's definition of the dramatic scene:  

"The quest of the Hero to overcome whatever ever obstacles there are that prevent him from achieving his goal. Each scene must culminate with the Hero finding him/herself either thwarted in his attempt or educated that another way to achieve his goal exists."

This is the crucible in which all scenes must be tested. Pass this test and survive or fail the test and be cut out.

The three filters Mamet uses for every scene are:

Who wants what?
What happens if s/he doesn't get it?
What HAS to happen next?

Answer these three questions truthfully and you'll be able to tell very quickly whether your scene works as drama or not.

For me, I work from outline, not long but broke into beats.  And, invariably, someplace between the outline and first draft sprout all manner of talking head scenes, extraneous material and false starts.  It's natural and I let it happen because sometimes I learn things about the characters here that I didn't know before.  

But they never survive the later drafts because here is where I have to be ruthless.  Any scene where two people are talking about a third has to go unless by taking it out I lose my audience's focus. Applying the filters above, I know that each scene builds – unfold – upon the last.  Each character must have a pressing need that impels him from the last scene into this one and then from this scene into the next.  There must be a real reason for him/her to show up each time.  If there isn't, the scene will be boring and that violates my First Rule.  

From Mamet again:

"This need (compelling reason) is why they came.  It is what the scene is all about.  His/her inability to get their need met will lead, at the end of the scene, to FAILURE – this is how you know the scene is over.  This failure will then, of necessity, propel us all into the next scene."

. . . and so on until the final resolution.

These attempts and failures, taken together, constitute your plot.  Note here this is your plot, NOT your story.

Think of it this way: your job here is to make the audience/reader NEED TO know what happens next.

Questions:

Ask yourself these questions about your current piece:

How much of the time are you TELLING the readers what's happening versus SHOWING them through your character's actions?
Be honest with yourself: are there passages in your current work that can't hold your own attention?  If so, why should they then hold your readers'?
Do your scenes flow necessarily from one to another?  Look at the juncture at the end of any given scene.  Is this where your characters should be heading?  Are you still interested in seeing what they do next?

Practice Exercises:

Choose a scene you're having trouble with:

If it's dialogue heavy, try rewriting the scene without dialogue – just description and action.  See how much of the content you can give non-verbally.
Try staging the scene in a different location of the story.  See if the location adds better continuity and drama.
If it still doesn't work, consider eliminating the scene altogether.  Can you move the main element of the scene to another that works better?

Next time: Tick-Tock, Tick-Tock . . .

Art Holcomb is a massively credible creator of illustrated novels (comic books), and is a screenwriter, workshop instructor and, lucky for us, a regular guest blogger here on Storyfix.  He will be lecturing this spring at the USC School for Film and Video, as well as doing a workshop at the Willamette Writers Conference in August 2012.

"Scheherazade" — A Guest Post from Art Holcomb is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Storyfix: A Facelift, a New Approach, a Second Founding

Change is good.  Feels like a root canal sometimes, but in the end, when the swelling goes down and you look in the mirror, that tuned up smile has an extra twinkle in it.

If you're on the site reading this, then you've probably noticed the changes.  A little more than subtle, yet not quite a complete identity overhaul on the scale of a witness protection program.  Cleaner is the key word.

If you're reading this via email or a feed, please drop by, check us out.

There are changes behind the curtain, too. 

My Books page is now the real deal — it pretty much sucked before — with all my titles, with my novels (past and present, including the new Kindle editions) and my several writing craft books.  I've also tweaked up the pages linked to the upper menu, including the Peer Review page, which had gone comatose because, well, it was invisible.  I encourage you to participate in that program.

A completely new wrinkle…

… is the announcement of my new monthly newsletter program. 

I'm calling it "Writers on the Brink — A Storyfix Community," and you've already been exposed to it with that little popup window asking you to sign up.  Why sign up?  Because I need to do this right, and the newsletter will be too full of specific value-added material and special fun deals to throw out there in general.  Those who come to the party will get the best appetizers.  And the hard stuff.

Please opt-in.  You won't get spammed or over-sold, and you will get special treatment.  My goal is to over-deliver.

The posts themselves will take on a new energy going forward. 

There may be less of them, but what I put here will be written from a place of passion and relevance, and won't be the predicatble by-the-numbers stuff that has led us to this point, and that fill the pages on most writing websites.  All the 101-level posts are still here, in the Archives, for new arrivals and those who want a brush up.  Going forward… think of this as storytelling grad school, with a point of view for everyone.  Even the pros go through training camp before every season, and this site is nothing not a place to prepare for the Big Leagues.

And finally, I've published a personal statement…

… sort of a rare thing on sites like this. 

Why?  Not because I'm opening the kimono for reasons better dealt with by my psychotherapist.  Rather, to postion this as a passionate, courageous and risk-friendly place.  Not everyone likes my style, but you can't question my intentions.  I'm here to help.  And to grow.

Thanks for making Storyfix.com one of the leading fiction writing websites on the internet.  If you have a Story to tell, there's always a cushy chair available for you here.

Love to hear from you.  Tell me what you'd like to see this year, and I'll try to accommodate what fits.

Welcome to 2012.  May we all write our asses off and find bliss in the process.

Don't forget the gift-with-purchase deal on my new ebook, Warm Hugs for Writers.  Read about it HERE.

Storyfix: A Facelift, a New Approach, a Second Founding is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

The Question You Should Ask Before You Ask "What if?"

I had lunch last week with a writer friend, who is awesome.  She brought her lovely sister, and I brought my lovely and awesome wife, and over omelets and gluten-free bread we had a grand time commiserating the experience of writing serious stories seriously. Like most writers, my radar for "what if?" propositions is always [...]

The Question You Should Ask Before You Ask "What if?" is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Two Mini-Workshops. Right here, right now.

Massive content.  Listen to one, watch the other. 

I recently did a 60-minute live "interview" with Cherly Fusco Johnson at KRUU FM, 100.1 in Fairfield, Iowa.  What began as an interview about "Story Engineering" (the book) ended up being a 60-minute primer on the Six Core Competencies of successful storytelling (the ticket to getting published). 

We went deep, we went wide, and it's worth listening if you need a 6CC booster shot.

Listen to it HERE.

Last spring I did a 30-minute Youtube interview with the wonderful Joanna Penn, out of Australia.  This, too, ended up being a little boot camp on all things structural and criteria-based relative to storytelling.  Also worth taking in, if you can stand looking at me through the unforgiving lens of a cheap old laptop.  Not my best hair day.

You can watch it HERE.

Enjoy.  Sometimes hearing it clarifies what you thought you read, here and in my book.

Need a warm hug?  Check out my new ebook, Warm Hugs for Writers, HERE. 

That's the Kindle edition… if you'd prefer a PDF download, click HERE.   Just launched it this week, and already hundreds of you have been warmly hugged, with a laugh or two tossed in with the gentle kick-in-the-hard drive. 

There's a big ol' hug waiting for you, too.  Then… it's back to the keyboard for all of us.

Two Mini-Workshops. Right here, right now. is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

To my RSS and Email Readers: An explanation of this morning's repeated posting.

(This is a site-stuff post.  If you're here for content, or want to learn about my new ebook, and you're on the site as you read this, please skip down to the second entry.  Thanks.)

Actually, I have no explanation, just a situation download and the assurance that I've not gone mad.  (If the madman is doing the assuring, does that still count?)

This morning WordPress distributed a guest post by Art Holcomb.  Touble is, that post already ran here (and was distributed to you) in mid-December.  Not that Art's stuff isn't worth reading twice or more — it definately is — but this distribution was unintended.  Here's what happened.

As you probably know, I just released a new ebook, "Warm Hugs for Writers."  Several of my guest posts are included in that collection, including Art's.  So, thinking like a Marketing puke for a blind moment, I took those guest posts down and out of the Archives.

Then I re-thought it.  And "republished" them.  There were three such posts involved.  But… one of them was sent out again this morning (though it didn't appear again in first position on the site).  Without me having any clue why.

If you know and would like to illuminate me, I'm all ears.  Thanks for patience. 

Massively relevant storytelling content around the corner.

To my RSS and Email Readers: An explanation of this morning's repeated posting. is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Warm Hugs for Writers

A warm & fuzzy new ebook you can, and should, take to bed with you.
Because it'll hug you back.

 

If this writing thing is so hard, which is what we hear all the time from writing teachers and tired old sages (me included on both counts) and around the cookie table at writing workshops, why are so many of us so utterly devoted to it?

Masochism?  Fantasy?  Delirous self-delusion?

Why does Jim Frey refer to writing fiction as bleeding from our foreheads?

Why are so many writers alcoholics — cause or effect? Inquiring relatives want to know… — or worse, suicidal?

How does The Writing Dream survive all this darkness?

Truth is, writing a story is fun.  Fulfilling.  Seductive.  Vicarious.  And impressive when it works. 

It's all the stuff surrounding it that challenges us, and on so many levels.

Getting it right.  Making it great.  Finding someone who cares.  Knowing how to play the agent game.  Keeping your chin up against all those odds and those chilly one-line rejection letters that tell you that your manuscript "just doesn't meet our needs at this time." 

Yeah, I wanna kill 'em, too.

What's Inside

Warm hugs, that's what. 

Over the course of 30 months and nearly 500 posts on this site, a handful have departed from my usual craft focus and sought to bring light to the occasional darkness that accompanies the nametag of Writer.

Over 30 of them have been buffed up and assembled in Warm Hugs for Writers. 

These have consistently been the most responded to and best appreciated of the content here on Storyfix, which is why I'm thinking having them all in one place is a good thing.  Sort of like a favorite pillow, or having a wise old bestselling author around, someone who's been there, felt that.

In addition, a handful of guest posts from other writers who share their writing journey are included, with an absolutely killer Foreword (itself worthy 0f a stand-alone ebook) by writing workshop legend and bestselling craft author James N. Frey.

Yeah, that guy.

To get a copy either as a Kindle ebook (exclusive) or as a downloadable PDF, see the middle column under the book cover and click on either the Kindle link or the ADD TO CART (for the PDF) link.  Or do it right here.

A January Promotion to Kickstart This Thing

If you buy either version of Warm Hugs for Writers this month (January 2012), I'll send you any of my three novels available on Kindle ("Darkness Bound"… "The Seminar" or "Bait and Switch")… OR… a PDF copy of one of my bestselling craft ebooks ("Get Your Bad Self Published"… "Story Structure Demystified"… or "The Three Dimensions of Character").

Just send me your Kindle or e-Junkie receipt (to storyfixer@gmail.com), tell me which bonus novel or ebook you'd like, and I'll fire it off to you within a day or so.  (This is manual on my part, so please be patient… I might be at the gym or my therapist's office.)

So let there there be hugs. 

The warm and fuzzy and motivational kind.

We all need 'em from time to time.

Warm Hugs for Writers is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com