Larry Brooks's Blog, page 43

Chipping Away at the Scariest Number Ever

Perspective is a beautiful thing.  Keeps us sane.  Smacks of reality therapy.  Lets us know we are not alone, yet we are the primary architects of our own destiny.

You may have heard of a guy named Malcom Gladwell.  Looks a little like Richard Simmons, but with something important to say. 

He's actually a brilliant journalist and researcher with several bestselling non-fiction books on his CV.  One of them — "The Tipping Point" (2oo2) — explains why some books become bestsellers and why other worthy books (not just books, but anything that catches fire, culturally-speaking) don't.

One of his other books is called "Outliers: The Story of Success" (July 2011).  It addresses how some unconventional thinkers become massively successful, and in doing so he draws some baseline conclusions that we can apply to our writing.

Because we all have that in common… we'd like to become massively successful.

Did you know that…

… Bill Gates spent 10,000 hours programming his high school computer, beginning at age 13, before he became the richest man in high-tech?

… the Beatles spent 10,000 hours performing prior to coming to USA to appear on the Ed Sullivan Show, which changed music forever?

… the guy who (basically) invented the atomic bomb, J. Robert Oppenheimer, spent 10,000 hours in some dreary basement lab before he joined that team?

Though he doesn't claim to have invented it, Gladwell lands on what he dubs "The 10,000 Hour Rule," which he explains as the ante-in before a "cumulative advantage" sets in, which in turns sets the stage for massive success.

Do the math.  If you worked at something for two hours a day, every day, that's a 13.7 year apprenticeship before you join this club.  And if that sounds like a lot… look around.  Look at the best in any field and look closer at when they emerged as the best, and the time it took to get there.

Perspective.

You think all those pro athletes haven't spent at least 13.7 years working their game?  Even if they were Rookie of the Year?  That the best surgeons and teachers and scientists and game show hosts and chefs and pilots and preachers and architects haven't logged at least 13.7 years of anonymous practice and growth before getting to wear that nametag?

The NaNoWriMo Relevance of it all.

So yeah, writing a novel is hard.  Meeting your NaNoWriMo goal is hard a total time-suck.  But think of it this way: if you log three hours a day during November getting your story down on paper, that leaves only 9,910 hours to go before you, too, can have lunch with Nora Roberts and Dennis Lehane.

I'm just sayin'… you're in this.  On the path.  Out of the gate.  Celebrate that. 

Make every hour count.  And don't be too hard on yourself if, say, six or so years into this you're still not on a bestseller list.  It is what it is… and it takes 10,000 hours of your blood, sweat and commitment to make it so.

I sold my first novel 22 years after declaring I wanted to write and publish one. I gave my first writing workshop 25 years ago.  And I'm still learning new stuff all the time. 

So I feel you. 

A suggestion on how to log 20 minutes on that road.

Yesterday I did a radio interview with a writer who had attended my presentation at an event held on the Oregon coast last week.  Turns out she hosts a regional radio program, and was sufficiently engaged to invite me to participate in an interview, which aired on KCUP out of Newport, Oregon.

The interview, as it often does, turned into a little mini-workshop on story planning and the writing life.  Something you might enjoy, and benefit from.

You can listen to it HERE.

Quick footnotes:

I'm in the process of assembling last month's NaNoWriMo planning posts into an ebook, with embellishment of the articles (and some necessary editing) and inclusion of the many linked reference posts.  I'm also including the entire manuscript of my novel, "Bait and Switch" for use as reference and example, as well as, I hope, your reading pleasure.

That's well over 317 pages of content, for which I'll be asking about $8.95.  The book will be available through various venues, including PDF direct from Storyfix, Kindle and other eReaders, and possibly a paperback version. 

Title: "When Every Month is NaNoWriMo — Principles, Guidelines, Tips and New Thinking to Make Sure Your Novel Doesn't Tank"

I have to confess, my original title was "… to Make Sure Your Novel Doesn't Suck," but my wife intervened. 

Not saying the content is brand new — many of you have my book, Story Engineering, already, and again, the primary content of the first half of the book comes from last months 31 posts in 31 days – but it's buffed up and optimized for NaNoWriMo, with an application for any writer, in any month. 

Will let you know when it's ready.  For now… keep writing, keep dreaming… and keep churning out those hours.

d

Chipping Away at the Scariest Number Ever is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

NaNoWriMo #32: Day 1… How Did It Go?

We would love to hear your Day 1 NaNoWriMo experience, especially if you've engaged with this series and, perhaps, are now writing from a story plan.

Or not.  Whatever works for you… works for you.

There are a whole bunch of us in this boat… let's support each other and share the love.

NaNoWriMo #32: Day 1… How Did It Go? is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

NaNoWriMo #31 — Into The Abyss

It's time. 

You kick your kids out of the house before you're certain they're ready (or they just leave, in which case you're absolutely sure they're not ready), and it never feels quite right. 

So it is here, for me, with this series. 

Not that you're my kids, in any way - some of you know way more than I do about this stuff – nor am I kicking you out.  But tomorrow is Day 1 of NaN0WriMo, and while we've gone fast and deep in this series, it feels on the other hand like we've just cruised the surface. 

Is the series really over?  Should we ever stop harvesting tips and folding them into our storytelling toolbox?  Do new tips, even recycled ones, ever really stop being valid, or necessary? 

Are there really only 31 of them?

So here we are, on the eve of your NaNoWriMo Page One. 

I sincerely hope you've found value here, and perhaps a bit of inspiration, as well.  Thanks for your feedback, which has been very encouraging and gratifying. 

Except that guy who told me I am a little man in a basement schleping hogwash.  Because The Greats require no "rules."  You, I feel sorry for. 

An ebook with this stuff in it, and a ton of other goodies, is just around the corner.

Oh wait… you're expecting one last tip. 

I actually have two of them.  Three if you count the reprise of one the tools previously offered, reprised in a slighlty abbreviated form (it appears below, in this post, in case you didn't click through to it before).

For today's craft-oriented, story planning review tip… CLICK HERE.  It's a summary, but when you see these criteria all in one place, it's some combination ofo sobering and affirming.  I wish you the latter.

CLICK HERE, too… for some edgy little tips to make your story more compelling.

And HERE if you'd like your NaNoWriMo novel to someday appear on bestseller list.  I'm serious.

That's a ton of content today.

Second tip:

A little perspective. 

I was watching the World Series these last few days, reminiscing about the days (long gone) when I used to also get paid to play that game.  I'm looking at the players, at their finely honed physiques, and, while certainly impressive, it isn't like the NFL or NBA, I see guys that look just like these pro baseball players in the gym all the time.

So what's the difference?  Who makes it, who doesn't?  Talent, sure.  Hard work?  Absoluely.  But there's more to it.  In baseball and in writing.

To a great extent, your fate as a writer will be determined by how you think.  By who you are, at your core. 

By that I mean… how do you take coaching?  How stuck are you in your own world, how strongly do you cling to limiting beliefs?  Are you in your own way, or are you willing to stretch, to risk, to commit?  Do you remain childlike in your wonder and blank page possibilities, or do you know it all already?  What's your comfort zone, and is it serving you?

Have you planned your story?  If the answer is less than an enthusiastic yes – at least the major arc and milestones — then take a look at these questions and be honest with yourself.  Because the folks in the bookstores… they have answered them.  And, by virtue of a beat sheet, some sticky notes or a series of drafts created in context to certain principles and expectations, thay all have planned their stories.

Writing is life.  A mirror and a microcosm.  We author our stories, but as we write them we are living one. It's an adventure, one that takes you deep within yourself. 

What's your ending? 

The story you are about to write is part of your story.  Will you be different?  Be better?  Be the best you that's inside you at this moment in time?  Or will you be… stuck… or frightened… or stubborn… or closed off? 

Write with courage.  Write something important.  Change yourself this month.  Go for it.  Reach high.  This is what it means to win NaNoWriMo… and it has nothing to do with word count.

And finally… keep reading this post.  The forthcoming title is self-explanatory.

I wish you great success.  May the blood that pours from your forehead be the blood of your invested self and not that of frustration.  All greatness is paid for in blood, if not literally, then metaphorically. 

And when the blood flows — it will, it always does — just remember that these posts, and many more, are still here.  I may add a few NaNoWriMo-specific posts as we launch into November.

As for me… I'm takin' a couple of days off. 

Not.

The Single Most Powerful Writing Tool You'll Ever See That Fits On One Page

It doesn't, actually… I just tried it (printing it out for a handout at my workshop this weekend)… it's 1.5 pages. 

This is a listing of everything you need to know about your story before you can successfully finish it, stated as a list of questions. 

For drafters — those allergic to story planning and who fight to the death in their defiance of outlining — this becomes a checklist of things you're looking to discover (answer) in your series of inevitable drafts.  The more answers you can stuff into your next draft, the fewer subsequent draft you'll need to write.

And if you leave only a few of these untouched then no draft you write will ever be final.  Only abandoned.

Yeah, it's that powerful. 

Print this baby out and keep it in a safe place.  Frame it and put it next to your PC.  Whatever works.  Because when you fully understand what these questions mean to your story, and how to integrate the answers into it, you're there. 

What is the conceptual hook/appeal of your story?

What is the theme(s) of your story?

How does your story open?  Is there an immediate hook?  And then…

what is the hero doing in their life before the first plot point?
what stakes are established prior to the first plot point?
what is your character's backstory?
what inner demons show up here that will come to bear on the hero later in the story?
what is foreshadowed prior to the first plot point?

What is the first plot point in your story?

is it located properly within the story sequence?
how does it change the hero's agenda going forward?
what is the nature of the hero's new need/quest?
what is at stake relative to meeting that need?
what opposes the hero in meeting that need?
what does the antagonistic force have at stake?
why will the reader empathize with the hero at this point?
how does the hero respond to the antagonistic force?

What is the mid-point contextual shift/twist in your story?

how does it part the curtain of superior knowledge…
… for the hero?…  and/or, for the reader?
how does this shift the context of the story?
how does this pump up dramatic tension and pace?

How does your hero begin to successfully attack their need/quest?

how does the antagonistic force respond to this attack?
how do the hero's inner demons come to bear on this attack?

What is the all-is-lost lull just before the second plot point?

What is the second plot point in your story?

how does this change or affect the hero's proactive role?

How is your hero the primary catalyst for the successful resolution of the central problem or issue in this story?

how does it meet the hero's need and fulfill the quest?
how does the hero demonstrate the conquering of inner demons?
how are the stakes of the story paid off?
what will be the reader's emotional experience as the story concludes?

You might notice that these blocks of questions correspond to the four parts of story structure, as well as the four elemental components of the Six Core Competencies (concept, theme, character and structure), leaving the other two (scenes and writing voice) to your brilliant execution.

NaNoWriMo #31 — Into The Abyss is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

NaNoWriMo #30: On Sub-Plots, Sub-text and Submarines

There are no submarines in this post.  I just thought it sounded cool. 

And, it alliterated.  Okay for a blogpost, perhaps, but in your novel… be careful.  Such language only works in dialogue, out of the mouth of your characters. 

The other tw0… sub-plots and sub-text… this is the stuff that lends depth to our stories, that haunts and compels as it adds tension to the procedings.  Always good thing.  The sign of a confident and skilled pro, which agents and editors love to see.

Knowing the Difference

A "sub-plot" is a dramatic confrontation between a need and antagonist obstacles.  Just like your main plot. 

It can involve your hero, or it can involve someone else.  If the latter, the sub-plot needs to collide with the hero's story arc at some point, probably in your Part 4 resolution.

Example: a guy goes undercover for the Feds, infiltrating a ponzi scheme of Madoff-like proportions.  To get in, he seduces the Bad Guy's daughter (relax, she's 24 and hot).  But… as this kicks off, he's struggling with his own primary relationship.  He's engaged, and his fiance isn't happy.  Will she tolerate this?  Especially since she's hired someone to spy on him?  He has to juggle both balls without dropping either, thus putting both needs at risk.

That's the sub-plot.  The main plot is the undercover gig.  The girlfriend arc/sub-plot will eventually impact it because she plans on confronting him with the "evidence" that he's cheating on her.

So what's sub-text?

Sub-text can be described as the sociology, the culture, of your story.  Culture, with its norms, expectations and consequences, influences the behaviors and actions that take place within it. 

In this example, the sub-text is the knowledge that the girlfriend is getting closer to blowing our hero's cover.  Which means everything he does right brings him closer to getting outed, and possibly killed.

A story can have multiple sub-texts, just as it can have multiple themes.  They are often the very same thing.

An arena is sub-text.  If you set a story in a nunnery, for example, that culture is sub-text.  In fact, the whole prospect of religious devotion is the thematic sub-text of the story, and what you write needs to align.

Use that term to wrap your head around this: thematic sub-text.

The DaVinci Code?  All sub-text.   A romance?  Depends on sub-text to work.  A mystery?  Often a social force that impacts either the bad guy's movitation or the hero's quest.

The NaNoWriMo influence on sub-text.

You should have both a sub-plot and some sub-text in your story.  Which is to say, relative to the latter, that your story will benefit from a thematic realm, which is a hypothesis or an explanation that relates to reality (yours and mine, as readers) and becomes the sub-text for how your story unfolds.

But you only have 30 days.  And sub-text isn't something that just happens.  It's the product of intention.  Which means, it's something you can plan.  It's the color of the ink (analogy alert) you use when you print out your story blueprint.

When you shoot for a sub-plot, the sequential milestones hover around the same targets as your main plotline. 

There should be less complexity with your sub-plot.  Don't overthink or over-write it, just make sure you aren't solving the sub-plot-centric problem in the first half of the story.

Sub-plots are often (as with the previous example) something going on a character's life.   Something with stakes.  It needs to be set-up in your Part 1 chapters, and your Plot Point One should impact this arc, as well. 

Sub-plots are often relational-based when the main plot-line isn't.  And vice versa.  If you're looking for a sub-plot, give your hero a life-partner who is stirring things up, thus complicating the hero's journey relative to the main conflict. 

Just be careful that your sub-plot isn't so far out there — an arc that is unrelated, or unlikely — that it smacks of contrivance. 

Example: your hero's boss is under investigation for defrauding the company, an arc that parallels your main plotline wherein the hero is seeking to fix a broken marriage. 

An effective sub-plot needs to relate either to the hero's arc by exerting some sort of pressure, or an impending collision with the primary plot-line in your Part 4.  In this example, you could make that happen by having the boss attempting to pin this fraud on your hero, thus impacting his ability to accomplish the main goal.

If you can pants that… you're a genius.  I hope you are. 

The smart money plans it, which is also a genius strategy.

As for sub-text…

… go for an arena setting, which can include a culture, an off-stage source of pressure and influence, or even an inner demon.  Catholic guilt… a great sub-text.  Closeted sexual preferences… ditto.  Having a fatal illness that presents a ticking clock… same.  The possibilities are everywhere.  This is life, and life is complicated.

A sub-plot can be, and should be, a complication.

The sub-text of this post?  Imbue your novel with more than your primary plotline and character arc if you want it to become good enough to attract readers.  Create a secondary source of conflict and interest… and you'll not only add words, you"ll add depth.

And if you're writing about submarines… gee, what a coincidence.  Which — here's another tip — has no place in your story.  Coincidence translates to story killer.

A Final Thought… on Voice

We haven't discussed that much in this series.  It's tough to learn, tougher to teach, reasonable but still challenging to coach one-on-0ne, and almost impossible to generically position in terms of guidelines.  The best way for anyone to work on their voice, or coach one… is to work hands-on with someone's prose.

Voice is like a singer's ability to do more than carry a tune.  Everybody sounds good in the shower… not so much at the audition for X-Factor or Idol. 

Prose is always in context to story.  The tonality of the prose needs to synch with the tonality of the story.  That's why detective mysteries are usually snarky, historicals are often eloquent, and thrillers clean and efficient.

Clean and efficient is always a safe bet.  Unless you're writing in first person, then clean and efficient can quickly become boring.  Infuse your first person voice with personality and attitude, keep it minimal in third person.

Be inspired by the voice and style of writers you love, but never imitate them.  Find your own voice, and you'll find yourself embracing stories that fit it, not the other way around.  Nelson Demille reads like Nelson Demille in everything he publishes.

Over-writing, the obvious attempt at eloquence, is a red flag for agents and editors, and readers.  There's a reason we don't seem much of this on the bookstore shelves… it gets edited and polished at the editorial level.  Over-writing will get you rejected before Page 2 is reached.

Adjectives are like drugs.  They're addictive, and they can smother the life out of a sentence, even if they're fun to swallow.  Use them judiciously.  Take pause before using any adjective, ask yourself if the crustiest old cynical editor gulping midnight cocktails over your manuscript against a deadline would tolerate your choice.  Less is more here.

One more to go.  Getting nervous?  Excited?  That's good.  You're about to give birth to something that's already alive and kicking… especially if you've planned for it.

I plan on assembling this series, with embellishment and the linked reference posts, into an ebook.  I'm also going to include the entire manuscript from my novel, "Bait and Switch," to use as a guinea pig and reality check to help bring these articles to life.  I'm thinking $7.95, the price of a mass market paperback.  Let me know if you have thoughts or feedback on this plan.

Thanks for playing.  Now get ready to kill it.

NaNoWriMo #30: On Sub-Plots, Sub-text and Submarines is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

NaNoWriMo #29: Six Tools to Rescue — or Beef Up — Your Beat Sheet

Maybe you're there with your beat sheet at this point.  You're just about ready to write your novel come Tuesday.

Maybe you're struggling.  Tempted to resort to old tapes that whisper sweet poison into your ear as comfort: just wing this, it doesn't matter.

But you know it does matter.

Either way, you should be obsessed with your beat sheet, in whatever form you've chosen for it, during these last few days.  You should be either filling in the blanks with scene ideas and missions, or — better — expanding your bullets into full-grown outlines for specific scenes you know you'll be writing.

Here are a few tools to help you get there.

To review a 1o1 on the magic pill that is the beat sheet, including a GENERIC, MISSION-SPECIFIC SEQUENCE FOR PART ONE OF A STORY, something you can actually apply to your story right now, or tweak to suit… CLICK HERE.

To read a tutorial — just posted from an online workshop I did elsewhere — including WHERE THE MAJOR MILESTONE SCENES FIT INTO A BEAT SHEET… CLICK HERE.

To view (and print) a generic, BLANK beat sheet template, CLICK HERE.

To view Rachel Savage's tent graphic with spaces inserted to scribble in your milestone story points, and a list of scenes under each of the respective parts (in other words, a blank graphic beat sheet template, CLICK HERE.

To see an actual working beat sheet (partial, up through 40 percent of the entire novel's length… I switch beat sheets from what you'll see to a more formal outline format)… CLICK HERE. 

To read the actual Prologue from that finished book to see how the final product relates to how it was covered in the beat sheet — I highly recommend you do this, you'll see how quick and clean your beat sheet can be — CLICK HERE.

The goal is to fill in as many of these blanks as you can, BOTH as generic mission statements (what the scene needs to accomplish), and as creative treatments (how you'll fulfill the mission). 

As an essential story planning minimum (which, if you're still gonna try to pants your story, this will at least give you a running start and a real shot at success), try to complete at least five of the scenes on your blank beat sheet: the opening scene… the first plot point scene… the mid-point scene… and the ending scene(s).

If you can nail these five, you'll want to jot down more.  I promise.  Before long you'll have more scenes in your head than you don't… and if you don't, you'll at least know, a) the context of the scene, depending on where it goes, and b) the mission of the scene, or what it needs to accomplish.

From those two inputs you can now more easily, probably, optimize your scenes… which is the key to success.

NaNoWriMo #29: Six Tools to Rescue — or Beef Up — Your Beat Sheet is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

NaNoWriMo #28: Don't Allow the Parts or the Process to Smother the Whole

This is complex, sticky stuff.  We've covered an entire year of grad school creative writing… nobody expects you to absorb it all.

All of us find our path, are preferred process.  And it's all over the map.  You now have some new tools and options to find yours.

If only a percentage of this sticks, it'll be worth both our efforts. 

Even a small percentage.  If you do only one thing better, you've moved toward your goal.  There's more, but take what's clear to you and keep wrestling with what isn't.  It'll come.

If you are suddenly more aware, even if not totally confident with these principles – aware of what's necessary, what's possible and what's missing in your story or what's may be compromising your process — that, too, is a win for both of us.

You started with an intention: write a NaNoWriMo novel. 

I've suggested you jack up that intention by moving toward a process that will result in a novel that is actually structurally and dramatically viable, rather than a rock pile of 50,000 words that are grouped, perhaps, into coherent sentences, but took a left turn somewhere around page 40 and ended up being… a bit of a mess.

That's a better goal.  A higher goal.  Do that, and you'll really have won NaNoWriMo.

Will you publish it?  Who knows.  You can do all this perfectly right and the story may not resonate with agents, editors or readers.  The magic ingredient is a mash-up of compelling ideas and fluid voice, timing, and a lot of luck. 

If it works… celebrate.   If it doesn't, I'll wager you'll now know why. 

Either way, then go on to the next, applying what you've learned.  That's the long view for all of us who do this.

A few things I won't back off of:

You need a vision for the story. Starting with a mind that is as blank as the first page is… not good.  Not doable.  Not smart.  Even as you fill in those blank pages from your still-blank but hopeful, experimenting mind, you'll eventually have to end up working from a vision for a story, and the overwhelming odds are you'll need to start over when you get there, if you expect a readership.

You'll need a conceptual stage for a dramatic confrontation between something the hero wants or needs and something that stands in the hero's way… and you need an ending to shoot for. 

A viable story is much too complex to kludgy together (Google it).  It demands more, and it deserves better.

If I could wish one thing for you in November, it's that start your manuscript with these things (what we examined in this series) solidly in mind as you write your story.

Even just that will allow you to harness your instinct — as well as whatever stuck to the wall here — toward the writing of a real story, with a real future.

Less than that… it's gonna be a long month. 

So please don't over-think this. 

If what you've encountered here makes sense, then by all means bolt it to your end-game and adapt your process accordingly.  If you're struggling — and it's reasonable that you may be — just know that merely having encountered these principles will have a subtle effect on your storytelling sensibilities. 

It's like riding your first bicycle… you've watched the other kids do it… but did Dad's verbal instruction really make it happen?  Or was it some combination of the principles and your learning curve, resulting in a new instinct and sensibility?

That's all it ever is… storytelling sensibility.  And we should use all the paradigms and principles and processes (three key Ps) we can get to ratchet them up.

We're not done.  I'm still going to offer up some final beat sheet tips and talk about how to turn the corner from planning to actual drafting.  These things, too, are complex and challenging, and often defy instinct.

Until then… let it all swim in your head. 

If it wakes you up at night… welcome to writing novels.  It should.  This is hard. 

And, this is worth it.  Especially if you go about it in an enlightened way.  If you've read this far, I'm betting that you will.

NaNoWriMo #28: Don't Allow the Parts or the Process to Smother the Whole is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

NaNoWriMo #27: How to Optimize Your Scenes

Two words have filtered from the computer programming world into the lexicon of writing fiction.  Three if you count the word architecture, which the pioneering computer geeks actually borrowed to describe programming in a design context.

The two words are paradigm, and optimize.  Ironically, it is architecture that programmers — and writers — seek to optimize.  As for paradigm, the framework of givens and expectations that put a fence around a task or element… that's either a good thing or a bad thing, depending on which paradigm one works from.

Republicans and Democrats… different political paradigms.  Fiction and non-fiction, different at every level.  Planning and pantsing… not as different as you'd think (both are a search for story), but regarded as different process paradigms.

To optimize is to work toward making something the very best it can be, given it's use, context and mission.  The latter caveat is critical to incorporate into one's understand of the goal of optimization.  Sometimes a whisper is the optimal corrective tool, sometimes it's a two-by-four… so context is critical to this understanding.

If you don't completely know where a story is going, there is absolutely no way you can optimize your scenes.  Any writer who claims they can is… unpublished.  Trust me, there was a honkin' rewrite in there somewhere.

This is even more applicable, and true, when it comes to writing scenes in a novel.

Scene construction and execution is the make-or-break skillset of storytelling.  You can plan like a mad genius, but if you can't execute scenes at a professional level then your all that planning collapses in a heaving mass of unfulfilled intention. 

Planning is the creation of an architecturally-sound blueprint… scene writing is hammers and nails and drywall, assembled with the touch of a master craftsman instead of, well, an architect in a bad suit.  As writers, we need to study and master — to optimize – both realms of skill.

This is why scene writing is one of the essential Six Core Competencies…

… it's worthless without a contextual mission and plan… yet essential to the successful execution of one.

To complicate matters, there are different species (categories) of scenes, with differing missions and therefore discreet forms. 

Opening scenes read differently than mid-part expositional scenes… which are different than milestone scenes… which are again different from scenes with unique and vital roles in a story (like flashbacks, behind-the-curtain cutaways, first-person reflections, etc.).  To a great extent these differences are defined by an understanding of the four different contextual realms of a story (which go a long way toward defining the context of the scenes within them), and what happens just before and after a given scene.

I'd like to share a few tips about scene writing…

… all in context to the bigger picture of understanding the nuances of story architecture as described here in this series, on my site, and in my book (among many other excellent sources out there).  In other words, learning to write scenes is like learning how to land an airplane… it's just one essential aspect of the overall process… it only works in context to operating an airplane in general (landing is a sub-set of a whole)… which in turn isn't possible without competence in multiple skillsets and realms, all in context to the phyics of aerodynamics, navigation and weather.

It could be argued that you can't really write an optimized scene until you've planned one, and you can't plan one until you understand the Big Picture of your story.  The first thing that breaks down in a pantser's pre-discovery, still-searching-for-the-story draft is, in fact, the scenes themselves.  They ramble, they have soft focus or unclear purpose, or if they do, they may not connect to a forward-moving spine (plot exposition and character arc).

One step at a time… we'll get there. 

We are learning aspects of a process, and the process either works as a whole, or it doesn't work at all.  It can't.  A great scene in a flat story is a failure… and a flat scene in a great story is, well… it's not optimized.  And it should be. 

First… the most important point of view, the most critical essence, of any scene is this: the author understand's the scene's' MISSION.  It's purpose in the flow of narrative exposition, which by definition includes its placement.  The primary piece of new information it puts out there.  And, the use of continuing characteriztion, sub-text and story context with which it is imbued.

A scene that is just characterization,, with nothing added to the exposition… not good.  Not optimized.  When you add a piece of narrative exposition to that characterization… now the scene has a mission.

Think of each scene as a frame in a PowerPoint presentation. 

Such slides are it, with the narrative window dressing left to the speaker.  It delivers the point.  The bottom line.  The next step.  The necessary chunk of sequence to build a whole message.

That mission, and that point, comprise what your beat sheet seeks to define for your scene.  Nothing more, at least at first.  Later you can grow your beat sheet bullet into a narrative/creative description, but the core of it consists of mission and point.

Begin planning each scene with that simplicity, that clarity. 

Ask yourself: what does this scene need to accomplish?  Why is it here?  How does it propel the story forward?  What about it is interesting, comes off with emotional resonance?  What is the conflict within this scene?  The sub-text? What is the star of this seeking seeking to accomplish? 

How can I use the scene to embellish character, and how can I use the character to add to the scene?

Then, decide where to take it from there. 

Sometimes a key moment within a story calls for a major scene, a microcosmic drama that stands alone as a chunk of dramatic power.  Big moments call for big scenes.  Other times it's in and out, quick and clear.  You get to make that call… but in either case, your scenes work best — they are optimized – when conceived and then executed from a mission-driven perspective.

Once you get that down — you know the mission for each scene — the next step is to, in effect, conceive a creative treatment (approach) for the scene.  One that makes it as effective — scary, dramatic, multi-faceted, mysterious, impactful, sexy…. whatever it needs to be — to best fulfill it's mission.  This, too, is the art of it… an intuitive feel for what type of creative treatment is indeed optimal.

The more you understand about the Big Picture of your story, and the principles that prop it up, the quicker and closer you'll come to that intuitive creative solution.

Once there… apply these principles to your creative treatment for each scene:

Enter your scene at the last possible moment.  This can only happen if you do, in fact, understand the mission of the scene, and have defined the single kernel of essential exposition it delivers to the reader.

Is the set-up of the scene necessary?  Is there extraneous chit-chat, character greetings, side conversations? Is there gratuitious characterization, unnecessary backstory?  Are descriptions of places and people required to get the point (the mission) across? 

The deeper you go into a story, the less minutiae in this regard there should be. 

Even then, don't describe things that don't need describing, stuff that the reader can intuitively understand (don't describe how a coffee maker looks, even when coffee is being served in a scene). 

Get to the point.  Get to it.  Less is more.

James Patterson is a master at this.  So is Connelly, and most of the other genre superstars.  If your story leans to the more literate and character-driven, these rules still apply, but with a different veneer.  If your words don't reveal and connect to a mission, to a purpose, then chances are they should be economized or re-thought.

Make your scenes microcosms of dramatic theory. 

They have a set-up (often done with prior context), a confrontation, and a resolution.  Sometimes the elements can be implied and not shown, that's your call.  Just know that overwriting of scenes is a deal killer, a pace-sucker, and that less really is more.  Give the reader credit for the ablity to make leaps, explain only what requires explaining.

End your scenes with a cut-and-thrust moment that propels the reader forward into the following scene. 

And, to go back to Writing 101… show, don't tell.  When you can.  This is a flexible rule that needs to be applied artfully.  But don't show everything… because everything doesn"t need to be told.

NaNoWriMo #27: How to Optimize Your Scenes is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

NoNoWriMo #26: The Panster's Solution to Story Planning

I get asked this every time I use the term, so I'll go there first: a "pantser" is someone who writes by the seat-of-their-pants. 

That leaves a wide breadth of possible intrepretation — and is not meant to be qualitative or judgmental — but tends to lean toward an unwillingness (often couched as the inability) to plan a story ahead of time.  A preference for allowing in-the-moment intuitive urges to dictate what happens next in a story, and who — in the worst case scenario — claim their characters take it over and it goes from there.

Sorry, that just doesn't happen.  When a character screams for a different direction, that just means you're already on the wrong path.  It's your intuition, your subconscious mind, reminding you that you wouldn't be in this mess if you'd have thought it out ahead of time.

As you probably know by know, I believe story planning — however you go about it — based on a working knowledge of universal dramatic principles, to be the most empowering creative approach… ever.  That it is, ultimately, a required step, one that even die-hard pantsers ultimately encounter.

So here we are in the home stretch…

.. and most of what I've offered here relates in some way to story planning.  Which may leave some natural-born pantsers frustrated or feeling left on the sidelines. Or, thinking I'm absolutely out of my freaking mind.  I hear from them frequently, in fact.

Allow me to try to fix that.  Because — this may shock you to hear from me — pantsing and story planning are almost always co-mingled strategies.

It's rare when someone really sits down to write a story with absolutely no clue where it's headed… and it's just as rare when someone has each and every one of the scenes and story beats completely visualized, down to each scene's setting, opening moment, outcome, and a final cut-and-thrust into the next scene.

So let's get real… we plan what we plan, what we can, and we make up the rest as we go.

That said, I continue to advocate story planning, at least to a minimum, necessary degree.  Necessary especially in the case of NaNoWriMo, where there isn't time to use the drafting process as your search for story.  Which is, by the way, a story planning process by another name.

There's no back door here.  However you're in it… you're in it.  You must search for your story… and you can't write it well enough until you find it.  Which, for pantsers, happens in subsequent drafts.

There are two levels of "planning" that I believe are necessary to the successful drafting of a novel.  Even for pantsers, who are simply using the drafting process to search for their story… to identify the VERY SAME ELEMENTS that I'm asking you to plan for this NaNoWriMo… ahead of time.

I call those moments the Big Five… the essential tent-pole, transitional moments of your story.  But you can't get to them until you have something else in place: and that's a Big Picture vision for your story, based on a concept and a hero with a quest ahead of her/him.

You can and should plan that, too.

At the first level, you need a concept, which is an evolution of an idea that creates a landscape of dramatic tension and character arc. 

Soon thereafter you'll need a vision for your hero, and hopefully your antagonist.  You'll need to know what the both want, and what opposes them. The earlier in the story planning — or pantsing — process this crystalizes for you, the more effective — and ultimately better — your story will be. 

Not only that, the more efficient the writing itself will be.  Because you're no longer searching or planning… you're executing.

If you begin with a character, if your character is your idea, the same is true: it's only an idea at this stage.  It doesn't become a story until you have a concept that sets the stage for dramatic tension, a place for your character to do something.  A "what if?" proposition that demands a compelling answer.

That's the first level, no matter where you start.  The vision for a dramatically-viable, character-driven story arc.

Again, hard core pantsers search for this in a draft.  I say, search for it beforehand, in a plan… and your NaNoWriMo draft will actually have a shot at working.

The second level — and today's tip…

… is to AT LEAST conceive and plan for a certain minimum number of scenes — the Big Five — all of them in context to those first level vision issues as defined above.

1. Know how your story will open.  See the previous post for some depth on how to do that strategically. 

2. Define your First Plot Point.  When you do, you'll be able to pants your way toward it much more effectively.  This is where you establish your hero, what's at stake, what's ahead (foreshadowing), and possibly throwing in an Inciting Incident that helps set-up the moment when it all means something, by defining what's ahead for the hero, and what will oppose that journey (at the FPP).

You should also know, in general, how your hero will respond to that First Plot Point.  This becomes the context for your Part 2 response and false starts scenes.

3. Know how the story twists – using new information – in the middle.  This becomes context for  your Part 3/pro-activeattack scenes.

4. Know the catalytic, fuse-igniting moment when all cards are on the table, and the story conspires to merge the elements toward the ending.  This is the Second Plot Point… a twist, a surprise, a revelation, a commitment, a change of some kind that puts the hero on the end-game path.

5.  Know how your story will end.  This is critical, and it's the one that trips up most pantsers.

At a minimum, these comprise only five scenes.

The Big Five.

But when you throw in the intuitively natural and sometimes obvious scenes required to set-up these major milestones, and then what ensues from them, you've added another ten to 15 scenes, all of them connected to or dependent upon one of the Big Five scenes. 

These are scenes that, because you've planned the Big Five — and maybe, if you're a pantser, only those Big Five — don't quite write themselves, but become natural and even easy to plan, because they're natural and obvious… or even too simply write when it's their turn on the page.

That's a huge chunk of your novel right there… just because you understand those Big Five scenes. The other scenes are just connective tissue, a form of reaction and response, leading to a ramp-up of the next milestone.

Story planners — even new ones, even ones who won't admit to it — will find themselves scheming away on the other scenes, the connective tissue scenes that bridge between each of those Big Five scenes.  Because there will be context for them, and the writer in you will know, in your gut, what they can and should be.  Or more importantly, you will be empowered – precisely because you know those Big Five scenes – from the context already in place. 

What context?  The context of four Part-driven missions (set-up… response… reaction… resolution)… and the context of the exposition-specific nature of your Big Five tentpole/milestone scenes (open… PP1… mid-point… PP2… ending).

Which, in turn — get ready for it — means you can actually pants those connective tissue scenes if  you must, or if you want to.

All of a sudden, simply by virtue of having a vision for — a plan for — five major moments in your story, in context to a Big Picture vision for the conceptual arc of the story… we're all on the same page.   Pantsers and planners, doing precisely the same thing, in only slightly different ways.

In the film Ghostbusters, Dan Ackroyd describes the apocalypse as, in part, "dogs and cats playing together."

Welcome to the literary apocalypse. 

It's the end of the world of clueless, random story development, no matter how you do it.  The only ones left behind will be those who refuse to submit to a vision and a structure… they're doomed… doomed to piles of drafts and years of frustrating effort before — if ever — their story will work. 

And who will never — unless it's a fortunate accident or the outcome of natural genius or decades of learning curve – write a NaNoWriMo story that works come November 30th, and are left defending it with the belief that it's impossible to make a NaNoWriMo story work.

They're so wrong about that.  I think you know that by now.

NoNoWriMo #26: The Panster's Solution to Story Planning is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

A Radical NaNoWriMo Opportunity

Want to really slam your NaNoWriMo out of the park this year?

Like to live impulsively? 

Got a few hundred bucks laying around you'd be willing to throw at this?

Timing is everything.  And the timing for this is… perfect.

I'm doing a workshop in Oregon this coming weekend. 

All day Saturday and Sunday (Oct.29/30).  The day before your story comes to life.

Gonna be intense.  Epic.  And there are seats available.

The workshop is only $190, through the Oregon Writers Colony, a warm and welcoming and very professional organization for whom I've taught many times (most of the participants will be out-of-towners, by the way, many via Storyfix).  And, of course, there's the expense of getting to/from Portland and something other than sleeping under a bridge (there are several nearby if that's your thing).

This will be the most intense NaNoWriMo experience I can think of.  I'm already nervous… medics will be standing by.

Please consider it.  Hope you can join us.  It will change your novel, it might even change your life.

CLICK HERE to learn more and sign up.

A Radical NaNoWriMo Opportunity is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

NaNoWriMo #25: A Strategy for Introducing Your Hero

(Click HERE to read a new Peer Review submission — Prologue/hook from a suspense thriller by Nolan Sweetwater.)

Sooner or later you gotta do it.  Your protagonist, your hero, has to make an appearance. 

This can happen in a variety of ways, many of them obvious and vanilla.  Better to do it strategically, in context to a killer hook and your initial set-up chapters, which may or may not involve the hero at all.

Your hero doesn't need to appear in the first pages. 

Especially if those come as a Prologue.  It can happen, and often does, but in either case the appearance should be strategic, and not by default.

If the debut does happen in a Prologue, the intro will be out of context (a Prologue is, by definition, out of context), and thus, requires a proper contextual introduction shortly thereafter. 

That said… you need to get your hero on the page soon.  Especially if he she/he is not part of the hook, which isn't a requirement.  I'd shoot for having the hero in the story by page 10 or 12.  Just make sure the pages that appear before the hero does are strategically inspired..

A Strategy for a More Effective Hero Debut

There are basically two available choices for how you introduce your hero. 

One is to introduce her or him in the midst of a scene that is, in fact, the hook for your story, connected to the main plot line.  In other words, the story's primary spine kicks right off (not the case withe a Prologue), and the hero is in the middle of it. 

When you do this — which is just fine, by the way — you then use ensuing Part 1 set-up chapters to offer backstory and a current world view, with the goal of establishing stakes (what the hero wins or loses once the First Plot Point puts it all in jeopardy, or at least on hold until the problem is solved).

Or… you can offer up a character-driven hero introduction.  But don't misunderstand what this means — it's tough to simply describe your hero outside of any conflict, if it's just a short bio with no dramatic tension.  Very hard to pull off, and the sign of a newbie writer.

Rather, you can do a character-driven hero intro by showcasing a little mini-drama, a form of short story (most James Bond films do this, they show Bond hunting down a bad guy, but it's not the story you bought the ticket for, it's only a character-set-up) that resides outside of the dramatic thread of your story.

This works with or without a preceding Prologue. 

Quick example (longer one to follow): your story is about a divorce.  About a guy who catches his wife cheating on him, then tries to take him to the cleaners.  In your Prologue, we see the wife cheating — the hero isn' t in the scene, there's no context yet, but we're hooked because we know this will get ugly.  We already empathize with a hero we haven't yet met.  Then, you introduce your hero in the next chapter… but not just by telling us all about him. 

Instead, let's introduce him, say, on the golf course with his buddies, one of whom has a mild heart attack on the sixth green.  We see our hero respond, get a feel for who he is — quick to act, caring, competent — and this little short story begins and ends right there, doesn't matter how, as long as we like this guy.  It's what we learn about the hero within this little introductory short story that is the intro strategy.

If it's short and powerful, if it's full of character revelation (from a pre-Plot Point context), it's a very effective way to introduce your hero.  A way that will position you as a writer who knows how to do this stuff.

When you do this, try to link this little side-show drama (the only one in the entire manuscript, by the way) to your primary story in some way, at least contextually.  In the previous example, the hero would reference his wife, who is a nurse, and how he learned all this from her, with a context of how solid he believes the marriage to be.  He's a happy guy, a guy who deserves better… about to get blindsided.

But we already know this, thanks to the Prologue.  Which licenses the hero intro to be about him, not the plot.

It's strategic story sequencing, using mission-driven scene planning. 

Here's a full blown example of strategic hero introduction.

In the opening chapters of my novel "Bait and Switch," I introduce the hero (Wolfgang Schmitt, former underwear model, big time player and disgruntled ad exec) after a Prologue and a quick first chapter (which, because it deliberately teases and resides out of context to the story to come, is actually a Prologue by another name). 

Strategy.  Foreshadowing.  Hook, followed by set-up.

It's short, by the way, so in reading this I'm not asking you to give up your day.

Then in Chapter Two we actually meet Wolf.  The mission of the scene (you should always know the mission of your scenes) is to introduce Wolf and make the reader like him, thus setting the stage to root for him as the story sucks him into darkness.  Notice, too, that the chapter does, in fact, foreshadow the plot to come, both in the opening lines and at the very end.

If you read the Prologue, as suggested in yesterday's post, you know that Wolf was not part of it.  It was a plot-driven Prologue, followed by a character-driven hero intro.

One more thing you can see in play here, and perhaps can learn from: notice the very last line of this Wolf-intro chapter.  It's called a "cut and thrust," which, by intention, opens the door to the subsequent scene in an inviting way.  The more chapters you end this way, transition-wise, the better.  (Start noticing this in the books you read, it's a mainstream narrative technique.)

Click HERE to read Chapters 2 (very short) and 3 (also short) to see how the hero of this story is introduced… strategically.  With a mission – which is to get to know and like Wolf (the little drama of the story… totally not a part of the plot of the book, other than showing us Wolf's frame of mind), which is in keeping with the context of all the scenes in Part 1 of a story.  They're all set-ups.

For what, you ask?  For the First Plot Point.  And, strategically, for the story that follows.

By reading all three sample chapters available here — Prologue, Chapter 1 and Chapter 2 — you'll get a feel for how a story can open with equal attention to plot and character (swap the order if you prefer), and with forward motion… all of it before you have the slightest clue about where this story will really go. 

That won't happen — and shouldn't happen — until the First Plot Point.

NaNoWriMo #25: A Strategy for Introducing Your Hero is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com