Larry Brooks's Blog, page 47

Storyfixing… Explained

Check out the new Peer Review submission from Lake Lopez, the first 5000 words of his novel, "Sinister."  Who could resist that title?  Please check it out and gift him with your feedback.

If you'd like to post your own work on the Storyfix Peer Review Page, and then stand naked in the harsh light of evaluation from your peers (who feel your pain and your excitement), click HERE.

If you'd like to read and critique other submissions, click HERE.  Please do.  These writers have put it out there, let's give them a return on their time, money and anxiety.  Because we are them.

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This morning I received an email from a Storyfix reader requesting information about my "storyfixing" services.  This is my response, offered here because I've made some shifts in emphasis and pricing.  And… I'm available.

I "analyze" stories in all their iterative forms.  Meaning, I read and coach story ideas, summaries, treatments, elevator pitches and outlines… and I also analyze complete manuscripts (drafts).  My fee depends on the length of your submission.  Frankly, the deliverable output from this — my "coaching document" — can be as lengthy for a submitted 20-page treatment as it is for an entire draft of a novel or screenplay, since I'm analyzing and coaching the very same elements within them.  That's why the fee isn't mathmatically linear, but rather, the sum of several variables in the process.

 

In my view, the earlier in the story development this coaching/storyfixing interaction takes place, the better.  It's more efficient for the writer to find and fix a weakness at the development stage (as in, within a treatment or even at the idea phase) than after it's all been executed.  Makes sense, right? 

Then again, most people approach me with "finished work."  That's a tough one, sometimes, because if they're "finished" they usually, naturally, think it's really good, which can mean they're really looking for affirmation, rather than constructive feedback.  The latter can sting a bit (I try to be gentle, but clear), but it's what they're paying for, and it's what I deliver. 

I also affirm, and joyously so, when I see something well crafted on the page.  I've sent several writers directly to the world of agents and publishers because their work was spectacularly ready.

 

Another thing you should know… I don't just criticize.  I try to add value. 

I offer up solutions to problems and pitch you on creative alternatives that I believe will make a story better.  Sometimes there' s a middle ground between the identification of a weakness and simply a better idea (IMO) for that moment or element in the story, and those boundaries tend to blur in the process. 

The whole interaction is like I've read the book and we're sitting over a mocha at Starbucks for an hour so so, kicking ideas and feedback around interactively.

 

I apply and juxtapose my story development model — "The Six Core Competencies of Successful Writing" (also the title of my book) as the standard and benchmark for everything I comment on.  I actually scan for all six core competencies and their component parts to ensure that the story is fully robust.  When one is missing, misused, misplaced or misunderstood, that's what I call out in my coaching document.  And that's why the document can get lengthy sometimes. 

I also offer feedback in a less structured way, as well… sometimes all six core competencies can be in place and the story is still flat, so I try to help fix that with fresh and/or evolved creative thinking.  My most rewarding experiences have been when I offer up an idea and it hits home.  Like, "have you considering telling this in first person rather than omnicient third?" and then support the idea with strategic rationale, and have the writer say, "whoa, dude, never thought of that, I see it now… genius!" 

No, not genius, just a process of "optimization."

That's the target.  Every story is nothing other than a bucket full of ideas.  Too often they are short-changed, incomplete or not as compelling as they could be. 

The goal is "optimization" as much as it is triage.

 

I do any type of "storyfixing" in terms of genre, though I will say I'm less enthusiastic about fantasy, science fiction and hard literature (stories that aspire to a Nobel prize, rather than a huge commercial impact).  My favorite projects are thrillers, mysteries, adult contemporary, historical, romance and everything in between. 

 

I can send you sample "coaching documents" if you'd like.

 

As for fees… I'm changing my pricing structure.  Frankly, in my effort to make this service accessible in this economy, I've been doing it on the cheap, and it's breaking the bank on this end.  My new pricing is still cheap, compartively, and for the same reason.  For a full manuscript my base fee is $1500 (more if the book exceeds 450 pages).  For treatments I charge by the length, with a base fee of $300, more if the document is longer.  I'm hoping to focus on (attract) the developmental documents (high level concepts, treatments, outlines, etc.), but let me be clear, I'm still in the business of doing whole manuscripts.

Hope this answers your questions.  Let me know if you need further info.

Have a project you want critiqued from a Six Core Competencies point of view?  Let's talk. 

Are you in a workshop state of mind?

I'm presenting a two-part, one day workshop for the Southern Oregon Willamette Writers on Saturday, October 1, in Medford, Oregon.  Contact Phil Messina for more information at p38messina@msn.com.

I'm also doing a massive, slightly disturbing two-day workshop for the Oregon Writers Colony — going deep into the Six Core Competencies story development model — on Oct. 29 and 30.  Click HERE for more info on this one.  There are folks coming in from all over the country for this career-juicing experience, hope you can join us.  Space is limited, so take action soon.

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Click HERE to see the online version (with the printer's pitch… sorry) of my new business card.  Has a new logo design, too, which will soon make its way into the banner for this website.

What it doesn't show is the back of the card, which is just the logo and my new tagline, which represents my writing, my teaching, my relationships.. and my life:

Mission-driven.  Passion-infused.

Storyfixing… Explained is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Input Please… Help create the First Storyfix Online Workshop

The title says it all. 

I don't have a date or a timeframe planned.

I don't have a specific agenda or thematic landscape for the workshop.  Yet.

What I DO have is a passion for this idea, and the belief that Storyfix readers would really jump on this.  Especially if you have a hand in crafting the content and activities.

This is an opportunity to create an online workshop like no other.  To break new ground, to reach for new heights of storytelling skill and enlightenment.

To get you going.  Maybe going again. 

So, I'd love to hear from you.  What would the "perfect" online writing workshop be for you?

Number of sessions?

Reasonable cost (this wouldn't be just a series of posts, but an opt-in, fee-based thing that nails your current needs)?

Specific topics, issues or outcomes?

A real-time, lets-write-novel-together guided process, with specific assignments, milestones, tutorials and examples?

Process driven?  Theory-driven?  Genre-driven?

Tell me what you think.  I'm all ears.

Larry

Check out my guest post over at Ollin Morales' Courage 2 Create.

Also, if you're a workshop sort of mood and are within driving or flying distance of Medford, Oregon on October 1st, email Phil Messina at soww77@gmail.com to reserve your seat.  It's only 40 bucks, so even if you toss in a tank or two of gas, that's a deal.

Input Please… Help create the First Storyfix Online Workshop is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

"Bait and Switch" (deconstruction): A "Criteria-Driven" Story from Square One

First… my apologies for being slow in getting this deconstruction up to full speed.  I hope to pick up the pace next week.

I've been thinking about it — a lot — and one thing keeps bubbling to the surface as I juggle parts and plot point and protagonistic proclivities.  And that one thing, I've come to realize, is what was behind it all.

When a message keeps knocking, I try to pay attention. 

If you've swan-dived into the Six Core Competencies playbook, you'll know that I like to say that our stories are born — that very first spark of "idea," whatever its form — in one of the four elemental core competencies of concept, character, theme, and structure.  (That last one, when it happens first, is usually a true story — "this or that really happened, and I'd like to tell that story…" much like the movie "Miracle," about the 1980 US Hockey team – while the first three are perhaps equally responsible for most of what we see in bookstores and theaters.)

I can look back at everything I've written (including the unpublished stuff) in the way of fiction and assign that first moment of "idea" to one of those core competencies.  In fact, I've written books from three of those most likely four.

Some like to argue this point (read the reviews of my book, there are folks out there eager to argue with anything in this discussion), but I believe that when a writer isn't sure where their story started, it's because that very first spark was so powerful it quickly ignited a fire that engulfed one or more of the other core competencies, making them seem to be inseparable or simultaneous. 

A great concept can lead you to a great hero so fast you can't tell which is which.  In fact, the same may be true with any combination of first spark sources… and it doesn't really matter.  This is good, when the universe seems to have gifted you with two or even three of the six core competencies you'll need, it's a wonderful moment.

Even if it was, in that blink the eye, only one to begin with.  Doesn't matter.

Unless it does matter.  Please allow me to explain.

It matters if you don't understand that you need all six Core Competencies to be developed and executed and clicking on all cylinders before a story will work.

Stories are like people.  They're complex and, when they function, they have multiple and essential parts.  That's why it takes nine months to hatch one.

All that said… again… important as this is, it isn't my primary point today.  It's context and set-up for my point today.

What is my point is that residing beneath – or if you prefer, enveloping — your first spark of an idea and the ensuing other seeds for the remaining Core Competencies, there is the availability of a certain dash of magic that can infuse the outcome of your search for story — your creative choices — with power and poignancy and a significantly better chance at success.

In other words, there may be more to it than those Six Core Competencies.

Yes, ideas and the fallout from them are, when they succeed, highly qualitative.  Not all ideas are good.  Not all concepts are compelling.  Not all protagonists are heroic and empathetic, and not all journeys are deliciously vicarious.

They should be, but they're not.

And that's how Bait and Switch was born in my mind.

Not from one of the Six Core Competencies, but from an intention.

The first spark of creativity was actually the desire to manifest a story that knocked certain reading criteria out of the ballpark.  It was in the search for ideas that were good enough that I landed on the specific core competencies that would become the story itself.

This is subtle.  It may even sound like blithering esoteria to some.  But that's how it went down in this writer's mind.  It wasn't as much about writing a bestseller as it was about writing a story I'd want to read.

Oh, how obvious this is.  And oh, how often this doesn't occur to writers who are eager to succeed.

I was looking to deliver a certain kind of reading experience.  A certain brand of journey.  A certain flavor of hero.  A certain visceral, vicarious ride. 

This is the second time I've developed a story from this initial ambition.

Sometimes the story arrives on the back of that spark, and when it does you have to add the juice to it.  In the case of "Bait and Switch," I began with the juice — the bar I wanted to reach, the flavor of story I wanted to write — and then went into search mode for an igniting spark that would belly up to that bar.

I'd been there before.  In 1990, while on the set of a video shoot, a bachelor for the night, I realized I wanted to go to a movie that evening.  I knew what was playing, and nothing on the local screens was the kind of film experience that would rock my world.

So I began thinking of the kind of movie that would, in fact, do that. 

That would send me straight from work to the Cineplex.  I began to churn on this.  I wanted something dark and noir.  With a devastating female villain.  With a hero who gets sucked into her web and has to beat her at her own game to survive.  A fantasy that collides with reality.

We can debate the psychology of this all day if you like, but that's not the point.  The passion for this criteria — the itch it scratched — is, however, the point. 

The result was a movie script called "In Darkness Bound."  I wrote it quickly, and the requisite creative decisions that would become my core competencies were completely driven by the criteria for the type of story I wanted to see on a screen.

A few months later that script landed me an agent.  Over a few years (and more than a few drafts) it received seven Nicholl Screenwriting Fellowship placements, including a finalist spot (top ten out of 6044 submissions) in 2002, after it had already been rewritten as a novel and published in the fall of 1999.

That novel, by the way, was a USA Today bestseller that made me a boat load of cash. 

All of this was as much because of the criteria that drove the storytelling as it was the elements of the story itself.

Hear this.  It can work for you, too. 

It did for me, again when it came time to write "Bait and Switch" in late 2002 into 2003.

I had a book contract but no story to deliver.  I needed one… desperately.  This is a risky position to put yourself in (though the reasons one finds oneself in that position is a good thing, I suppose), because it can lead you to settle.

In retrospect, I believe I had already settled.  Twice, in fact.  These were books #2 and #3, after "Darkness Bound" and before "Bait."  They were fine, I hope (well reviewed), but they weren't driven by that passionate criteria-driven search for story that books #1 and, ultimately #4 would be.

With "Bait," I wanted a story that was vicarioius. 

That was the driving thing for me.  A story that would take the reader out of the mundane and plop them into the sublime.  A story that would be theme-rich.  That would seduce them.  Put them in danger and force them to face demons.  Allow them to fly around in private jets, anticipate a payday measured in the millions, gain entre to an exclusive world populated by billionaires, geniuses and supermodels.

And yet, I wanted it, by the very nature of its vicariousness, to become catalytic.  To ask the reader to assess their values and moral compass as they assumed the persona of the hero along this path.  What would you do?  I wanted that question to remain at the forefront.

In fact, I wanted any assumptions attached to that answer to suck the reader into an ending that would validate and reward their immersion in the story.  According to the critics, it did just that.

All this before I had a clue as to what the story would be .

A decade earlier with "Darkness Bound" (in its initial pre-novel incarnation as a script), that initial passion-driven spark was a character.  The antagonist, in that case.

With "Bait," the initial spark was a concept.  Which I quickly retooled into a compelling (for me) what if? question: What if a rich guy needed to negate a foolish pre-nuptial agreement by hiring somebody to seduce his wife?"

Imagine the lives, the personas, that would populate such a notion.

From there — and this is what happens when your "what if?" scenario is burning a hole in your head — other "what ifs? began to make themselves known, each auditioning for a role in the story itself. 

What is the pre-nup and seduction gambit had much bigger stakes than the billionaire's position on the Forbes 400? What if there was a hidden, deadlier agenda?  What if my hero's (the hunky seducer-for-hire) connection to this job offer was something other than coincidental?  What if his personal stakes became his motivation, over and above the millions already on the table?

The billionaire was loosely based on Larry Ellison, from a great distance.  Wolf was loosely based, on… well, me.  Can't get more vicarious than that.

If you've read the book, you should recognize these elements. 

Some are conceptual, some are thematic, most are character-altering.  Just know that they were conceived in context to certain criteria, rather than simply being a cool idea.

I hope the power of this realization strikes you as it did me. 

It might even be an Epiphany in your career: the heat of the criteria that drives our creative storytelling choices are every bit as important, and indeed, destined, as what we put into the story itself.

"Bait and Switch" was my most critically-successful novel.  Not because of any genius of the story elements themselves, or their execution, but rather, because of the passion that summoned them and the high bar that drove them into being.

I believe this is an important – if not subtle – concept and therefore a milestone post for Storyfix.  If you agree, please share this link with other writers, either through your own blog or within your personal network.

Read the Publishers Weekly review (and others) of "Bait and Switch" HERE.

See the links in the middle column to order a copy of "Bait and Switch" so you can benefit from this deconstruction. 

CALL FOR SUBMISSIONS

The new Peer Review feature here on Storyfix has yielded some killer feedback for the authors who have thus far opted in.  To find out how you can play, click HERE.

To read the work of your peers and offer feedback, click HERE.

"Bait and Switch" (deconstruction): A "Criteria-Driven" Story from Square One is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Want to Publish, or Self-Publish? Read This Interview

Writer, editor and friend Victoria Mixon runs a great (Top 10!) website for writers, www.victoriamixon.com.  Up now is an interview with another Top-10 writing blogger… someone you might know… talking about stuff you might want to read about.

Think of it as some combination of comisseration, confession, encouragement and warning.

Consider it today's Storyfix content.

This interview goes a little deeper than the average author back-and-forth.

It allows you to get an unflinching look at being published, getting let go by your publisher after writing a best seller and a critical home run, followed by a descent to the depths of writing dispair…

… launching a blog after writing your best novel (from the aforementioned pit) and then watching it go largely unnoticed (other than a nice big fat national award, which also went unnoticed)…

… then writing a bestselling writing book, followed by some resultant hate mail mixed in with an abundance of appreciative feedback…

… and then, immersed in confusion between strategy and desperation, republishing those earlier novels as ebooks to join the madly tweeting Kindle crowd…

… yeah, that's the interview.  Which offers up some war-weary, unflinching, this-may-or-may-not-be-what-you-want-to-hear-about-self-publishing truths thinly disguised as opinions.

You can read it HERE.

Meanwhile…

… thanks to the many generous readers who have gifted the posted authors with honest, clear and astoundingly useful feedback on their work here on the Storyfix Peer Review page.

Click HERE to learn more about how you can join the fun.

Want to Publish, or Self-Publish? Read This Interview is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

3 New Peer Review Submissions

Please honor these authors with your time and feedback. 

Consider it a reservation in your name on the karma train.

*****

Frederick Fuller's contemporary adult romance, "For the Heart's Treasure."

Jason B. Reed's adult fantasy novel, "Opposable Thumb."

J Fairfield Perry's adult contemporary novel, "Warning: Say No or Die."

If you'd like to offer up some of your own work for peer review, CLICK HERE.

Thanks for playing!

3 New Peer Review Submissions is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Deconstructing "Bait and Switch": The Double-Barbed Opening Hook

The second in a series of posts that expose and analyze the architecture of this novel.

A little business first.

Donna Lodge sent me a link to an interview with Kathryn Stockett (author of "The Help"), and it's fascinating, scary and encouraging (writing often brings us a collision between those experiences). 

"The Help" was rejected SIXTY TIMES… click HERE to read about it.  And pay attention to Stockett's final tip to other writers, it's pure gold.

Also, at the end of this post you'll find information on two workshops I'm delivering soon, both in Oregon.  Nice there this time of year, just sayin'.

Also (one more)… my buddy Randy Ingermanson (co-author of "Writing Fiction for Dummies") publishes the largest writing ezine on the planet (over 27, 000 subscribers).   The latest issue is out, and, like all of his stuff, it's worth your time… get it via Text or PDF.  You can visit Randy's site HERE.

Okay, let's do this:

The Opening Salvo in "Bait and Switch"

I'm a huge advocate of mission-driven storytelling. 

The mere existence of a structural paradigm for our stories – four parts, three major milestones, a handful of other strategically-placed narrative tent poles – creates a compelling path for our stories…

… and thus, a context that defines the mission of our scenes and the part in which they appear.

In other words, the scenes at the beginning of a novel are different than the rest of the scenes in the story.  They have a unique mission.  And they come from within a unique contextual expectation.

Some writers get this by instinct.  Some only get it when the principles of story architecture have been shown to them (like, right here on Storyfix and in my book), and then, from that moment on, they see it in every book they read and movie they see.

It's like a lightbulb going off.  A cloud lifting.  The truth illuminated.  It's architecture exposed.

It's always there.  You can't unsee it, you can't deny it. 

And it'll need to be there in your story, as well.

When I wrote "Bait," everything about the mission and context for how the book opened was driven by this non-negotiable contextual architecture.

The Mission of Part 1 of Your Story

You should create a hook for the reader.  Something that makes them want more. 

You need to open a can of worms… lay the groundwork for an unfolding dramatic narrative (plot).

In Part 1 you must introduce the hero and show us a pre-plot point world view, including near-term goals (which will change at the First Plot Point).

You need to foreshadow.

You need to establish the world of your story.

You need to establish stakes, and on several levels.  The reader should be invested in the hero (root for him or her, empathize).   This is critical.

You have anywhere from 8 to 20 (or so) scenes to get this all down.  Because when you get to Part 2 (after the First Plot Point), the mission and context of those scenes changes.

Understanding these contextual differences between the scenes in each of the four parts of your story – which allows you to properly define the mission of those scenes – is a major key to advancing to a publishable level. 

All great stories do this. 

It begins with a hook.  In the case of "Bait and Switch," I deliberately – strategically – opened with two of them.

The Two-Barbed Opening Hook

In mission-driven scene writing, even though they are infused with character, sub-text and voice, it is best to have a single mission in mind for each scene.  Doing so avoids random, sprawling narrative in the name of characterization, which is the bane of newer writers and unpublished manuscripts.

"Bait" opens with a Prologue.  It's mission: to plant the seeds of a major corporate scandal and a cover-up that shows us these bad guys will kill to protect their secret.  Who dies, and how, is less important than the exposure of a cover-up that will become the heart of the plot.

The hero isn't in that opening scene. 

The first barb of my dual-hook was plot-driven.

The next short scene is part of that hook: it is a thinly veiled intro of the character with a foreshadowing of the covert world he is about to enter.   More tease, more hooking.  By implication, this scene links to the Prologue… we know our hero will be in the center of all this darkness.

That's barb #1: my intention was to hook you on the plot.  To want to see what this all means, where it will go, and how it will involve a hero we haven't met yet. 

In the third scene (Chapter Two), we meet Wolfgang Schmitt, the hero of this story.  It uses first person narrative to sweeten the intimacy of the reader's relationship with Wolf.  The story is actually very character-driven, despite a complicated (I'm told) plot, so this scene was critical.

It plays like a short story, a little mini-drama that really shows off Wolf's character while setting the stage for plot advancement… which happens in the last sentence of the scene.

That's called a cut and thrust, by the way.  A zinger at the end of a scene that has satisfying resolution in it (the scene is very Tarantino-esque), but is now history (background context) as the story quickly advances into the main plot thread.

That scene is the second barb of my opening hook strategy. 

By intention, we now love Wolf.  We relate to him.  He just did (in this scene) what we've all wanted to do in a business meeting from hell.  And now he's on to a new adventure… the one foreshadowed by the Prologue and Chapter one.

None of those three scenes could succeed without an understanding of the context of the Big Picture of the story and the unfolding dramatic narrative (plot).  It's all dripping with sub-text and context.

And yet, one of the barbs had a mission that exclusively targeted characterization, with that ending zinger. 

The context was all about him becoming vulnerable to the offer that would suck him into the story (pure Part 1 context stuff)… and the mission was simply to show us this guy and make us fall in love with him.

Every scene needs to forward the story.  The plot.  Characterization is the suit of clothes, the paint, that makes the scenes work.  That, and a little mini-drama that the scene presents and then resolves.

Mission-driven.  Contextually linked.  That's the ticket… including your hook or hooks.

If you'd like to follow this in context to the book itself, you can get it HERE on Kindle (or navigate to your favorite e-reader; it's available on Amazon, too, as a paperback).

Here's the skinny on the two workshops I'm teaching in Oregon:

October 2, in Medford, Oregon. 

It's a two session (morning and afternoon) intro and overview of the Six Core Competencies, with a direct application to any WIP of the attendees.   How to put this into practice.

Email Alisa (write@transformation​alwriters.com) or Phil (p38messina@msn.com) for more info.  The workshop is sponsored by the Southern Oregon Willamette Writers.

October 29 – 30 in Portland, Oregon.  This is the whole Six Core Competencies enchilada.

It's life changing.  Okay, it's at least career changing.  And, as I like to say, slightly disturbing.

Click HERE for more on that one.

Hope to see you there!

More deconstruction of "Bait and Switch" to come.  If you've read the book and would like to chip in (on the hooks or anything else), we'd love to hear from you.

Deconstructing "Bait and Switch": The Double-Barbed Opening Hook is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Deconstructing "Bait and Switch": Concept and Voice

(Quick note… check out the new posting on the Peer Review Page HERE, a novel partial by J Fairfield Perry.)

From Notion to Idea to Story: An Author's Personal Account

Even though I'm deconstructing my own novel this time around, my approach won't differ (much) from that taken with other deconstructions here on Storyfix.  That is… the objective isn't so much to show how the author did something, but rather, to illustrate underlying storytelling principles that we might otherwise not notice.

To show why a story works.. or not.  Once we know why, then the how becomes a matter of choice and creative optimization. 

Two things jumped out at me the moment this story launched itself in my head: there really is a huge difference – measured in many weeks and many drops of blood seeping from one's forehead – between an idea and a story…

… and that the notion that we shouldn't ever write stories in the first person is pure, unmitigated horse manure.

The writing teacher who told you that last one is either dead of old age or committed to remaining unpublished.  Some of the best books on all the collective bestseller lists of the last two decades have been written in first person.

There are no rules.  Only principles.  And they are inviolate.

Death, taxes, gravity… and the principles of storytelling. 

The Nature of Ideas

Ideas are like the days of our lives.  They are inevitable, they keep coming at us, and they can either be ignored or committed to memory.  Each day/idea is different, each contains common elements, and not all of them are worth remembering.

Some of them define us.

Sometimes it's tough to tell the difference.  If you're a writer, telling the difference is your job.

When I'm searching for a story to write (which can involve submitting to the idea or a story choosing us), I begin with a large and growing inventory of "what if?" conceptual ideas that I keep filed in the largest cavity of my mental warehouse.  The place where I store ideas that just might amount to something.

I never write an idea from an initial rush of interest in it.  I let it steep, age and either rot or grow.  An idea always comes off different when you look at it again later on… this is key to making sure your idea is worth pursuing.

I'm fully aware of the fact that an idea does not a good story make – even when it's a great idea… because the greatest of ideas need a long list of stuff added to them before they can become a story), so my initial vetting process has more to do with staying power than anything else.

If an idea won't let me go, I pay attention to it. 

Even then, I toss more than I pursue.  As should you.  Weak ideas, even when well executed, are among the most common reasons for stories sinking like stones.

When I do want to pursue an idea, I add more "what if?" propositions to see if the idea will either go away, collide with a brick wall (demanding violation of those principles that are, once again, inviolate)…

… or become intriguing to the point of love and then obsession.

When the latter happens, I officially knight the idea as a concept and begin building it into a story.

A story won't work without a sturdy, compelling concept.  A simple idea isn't enough. 

You don't have to begin with concept..

Fact is, it doesn't always happen that way.  It did with "Bait and Switch," but I've written other novels that began with one of the other of the Six Core Competencies, usually either a vision for a character or a passion for a theme.

Darkness Bound began with a character—the antagonist – in mind.  The Seminar began with a theme I wanted to explore.  I had to add concept to both of these initial sparks before a story became possible.

Principle: all stories begin with a single core competency. 

The initial spark is either a concept borne of an idea… a character (also borne of an idea)… a theme (usually borne of an opinion or a particular passion)… or something that happened to you or someone who know (which may or may not yet be conceptual in nature).  Or sometimes, with a scene that plays out in your head (their eyes met across a crowded room filled with IRS agents…)

A story rarely begins with voice… that's like singing the shower.

If a writer creates a story because they like the sound of their own writing voice, if the story is a contrivance just to give their wondrous voice something to sound off about… this is a recipe for failure, with very low odds.  And it happens all too frequently.

This is critically important to understand. 

Because inherent to that particular truth is this: you always begin with one of the core competencies front and center, and usually the energy of it quickly gifts you with a second one (sometimes it's almost simultaneous, to an extent you might argue that the "idea" came to you as a united concept and character… I'm picking nits to disagree, because they are both essential). 

But from there, after that first creative spark, you must sweat out the other five core competencies.  You're not done – indeed, you're not ready to write a draft that will work – until all six are solidly in mind.

This includes voice, by the way, as you're about to see from my own experience with "Bait and Switch."  The more you know about your story, the more you'll know what kind of voice is required to tell it well. 

If you can only write in one flavor of writing voice, then you'd better be sure the story fits it.  Stuart Woods isn't competing with Jonathan Franzen for this very reason.

This development process can take place either as a story planning exercise or a draft writing exercise… it doesn't matter which.  

The Idea that Became "Bait and Switch"

I don't know where it came from.  Sometimes we do, sometimes we don't.

People ask authors all the time, "where do you get your ideas?"  The answer doesn't matter.  They come from somewhere, and very often somewhere you cannot predict, comprehend or control.

To put it simply, I was intrigued by the following idea: what if a rich guy was locked into a prenuptial agreement that he now wanted to render null and void, and the only way to do so would involve catching his wife committing adultery?

Maybe this was an alternative to that old cynical saying: can't live with 'em, can't kill 'em.  Who knows.

Then I wondered… what if that could be arranged?

What if, knowing his wife's desires and vulnerabilities, the aforementioned rich guy set out to make this circumstance a reality?  One with an agenda to get out of the pre-nup.

What if he hired someone to seduce his wife, feeding him his wife's weak spots and fantasies and desires all the while?  By putting the perfect guy right under her self-serving, potentially adulterous nose?

What if the guy hired for this job had no idea what was really going on?  Or, at the outset, he needed the money and entered into the deal without truly grasping the stakes?  What if his own moral compass was the subject of his character arc?

The idea presented several aspects of what makes a concept appealing.

It was vicarious, forbidden, compelling, challenging, delicious, thematic, and fraught with risk and twists.  It was something I'd want to read about.

Was it original?  It was when I got into it.  Ideas are rarely original.  Execution should strive to be.

Don't discount this criteria about writing something you'd like to read.  That you'd pay money for.  In fact, put it at the top of your vetting list.

Because – and this was a decision I strategically decided to throw at it – in my story nothing would be as it seemed.  And the hero of my story – the guy hired to do the seducing – would be more than meets the eye, with something of his own at stake. 

A backstory that was sympathetic.  A goal that was empathetic.  A self-deprecating sense of his own gifts and weaknesses that was endearing.

Somebody we would root for.  Feel for.  Like.  Want to be.

This is all stuff you can plan. That you should plan.  Or at least, if you don't plan, you must discover as you write your drafts.

Of course, all those subsequent "what ifs?" came after the initial idea. 

They were – and it is almost always the case – the elements that turned my idea into a story.

The concept was launched. 

Inherent to it, conceived as a direct by-product of the concept, was the appearance of a character, a hero.  Also inherent to it as a another by-product of drilling deeply into an idea to find the conceptual core: conflict and dramatic tension, both of which are fundamental to story.

Interestingly, it was the vicarious nature of this idea – the secret truth that the reader, not to mention the author, would want to be this hero, would long to personally experience the world of a billionaire, to seduce a billionaire's trophy wife and be paid millions to do so – that led me to voice.

I knew this story would work best in first person. 

I needed to go deep into the head of this hero, to tell this from his point of view.  Only first person would give me this access.

I also knew that, in order to propel the story forward expositionally in a way that optimized both tension and stakes, I needed to show more than what the character knew as the plot unfolded in real time.

So make that happen, I decided to break another rule: to use both first person narrative and third person point of view in separate chapters, the latter of which would show what was transpiring behind the curtain – or beyond the scope – of the hero's awareness.

I'd seen Nelson Demille do it – brilliantly – in The Lion's Game, so I was already a believer.

The reader would know more about what was going on than the hero.  Which is a compelling and strategic dynamic in a story, one that opens up all sorts of opportunities for tension, drama and pacing.

Three things, by the way, that make a novel leap off the page.

It's hard to be strategic in a draft.  Much easier to go there from the blank page.  My opinion.

All this was solid in my mind long I wrote a word. 

Writing an effective novel or screenplay – any story – is an exercise in strategy.  In making the right choices, not just the linear, obvious choices that emerge from writing from flow or inertia. 

It's about optimizing, not just getting it down on paper.

But that's just me.  My planning approach – or yours, however that looks – is but one way of getting to this first important creative stage in the story development process.  I could have written a draft to discover these things, but that's all it would have been… a draft.  One that would have required, once the optimal creative platform had crystallized, to be rewritten from page one.

Writing draft after draft is nothing other than a form of story planning.  Chew on that one.

The published version of the story was, by the way, the first draft I actually wrote, plus some very minor editorial (not story) tweaks.  So I know this works, that it's possible and feasible.

But do what you must. 

Just don't compromise principles, strategy and outcome in the process.

Your creative, expositional story choices should never be random, by default or because of some externally-imposed rule.   Or worse, simply because that's how you wrote it in a draft and it would be too much trouble to start over. 

Principles… yes.  They are sacred, and they are never confining.  When they are honored, then there truly are no rules. 

Follow your heart, your passion and the finger pointed by your idea.  Because it is sending you toward a concept and a character and a theme, and it is there where the gateway to a story can be found.

Use the links to the right to get your copy of "Bait and Switch," either as an ebook or via used paperback, so you can participate in this deconstruction process. 

Next up: the double-edged opening hook employed in this story.

Deconstructing "Bait and Switch": Concept and Voice is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Two New Peer Review Submissions Available

Added today:

"The Findings," by Nancy xxxxx, an excerpt from her political thriller.

Added yesterday:

"The Two Headed Rat", a YA novel by B.J. Culver.

Please make some time to read these submissions by two very promising authors, who will appreciate your feedback.

Also added yesterday, a wonderful guest post from Lynn Dean… just scroll down!

Two New Peer Review Submissions Available is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Guest Post: Architecture or Art?

Next week we'll be launching the deconstruction of "Bait and Switch." 

Click on the links in the middle column to grab a copy on the cheap and join us for this peek into the hidden architecture of a story.

To tide us over for the weekend, here's an interesting guest post by Lynn Dean.

*****

Architecture or Art? 

a guest post by Lynn Dean

(Click HERE to read a short, beautifully-written slice of narrative that sets the stage for this article.  Or not… feel free to dive right in if you prefer.)

What, you may ask, has a medieval cathedral to do with story structure? I majored in architecture and missed the connection until I read Story Engineering, but then it hit me like a ton of bricks (if you'll forgive the pun).

While I would never dream of building so much as a tree house without at least scribbling a sketch on a napkin, when it came to writing I was a proud "pantser"–writing mostly by intuition. Sometimes that works. Sometimes it's an invitation for disaster as scenes and subplots collapse.

Beauvais (and several other Gothic cathedrals that collapsed during construction) may not have been erected by structural engineers, but the builders were no amateurs. Master masons learned the traditions of building–what worked and what wouldn't–through years of apprenticeship. They shared ideas with others in their guild. Their training was not so different from the way many of us learned to write. And it worked, if only because failure was a threat to survival. The mason who built the arch was the same man who stood beneath it to pull out the scaffolding.

As do we as architects of our stories, though he risked a bit more than a publisher's rejection letter.

Because these medieval builders did not understand the principles of physics that explain stress vectors and such like (calculus had not yet been invented), their traditional forms were literally set in stone. In a sense, the lack of formulas made their buildings somewhat formulaic as each craftsman tried to achieve something unique and inspiring–soaring, light-filled art–without varying too much from the proven patterns. Lack of understanding causes timidity.

I had fallen into a similar error–thinking that a planned plot would make my writing mechanical, less artistic. But in writing, as in architecture, it is possible to marry formulas and art to the great benefit of both.

In fact, just as many cathedrals survived notwithstanding their builders' naivety regarding the principles of physics, a solid story stands because the writer has intuitively hit upon the principles of plotting that work. When I applied Larry's "structural forensics" to my manuscript, I was pleased to find plot points that support the structure of my story exactly where they should be. And within that structural web, there was art!

Physics indeed… our stories depend on them just as much as the product of the architect's trade.

Please visit Lynn Dean's website, A NOVEL WRITING SITE.COM.

Also, check out the latest entry on the Peer Review Page, an excerpt from a YA Novel by B.J. Culver.  Your feedback on this project would be most appreciated.

Guest Post: Architecture or Art? is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Quick Peer Review Page Update

Just added:

AUTHOR: Michael Moller

TITLE:  "God Complex"

GENRE:  Comic Fantasy (novel, first chapter)

SYNOPSIS: After the creator of the universe becomes trapped inside an eccentric winemaker's body, a shy winery employee must save the world from destruction by incompetence.

ISSUES:  This first chapter is a hook meant to foreshadow the first plot point occurring around the twenty-five percent mark.  I'm hoping to learn if it holds the reader's attention, if the dark humor tone comes across, and how the overall voice feels. All comments are appreciated.

Please visit the Peer Review page to access Michael's work and that of the other authors who have posted here.  Feedback is good… and we're all in this together.  The Karma train will stop at your door if you honor these writers with your feedback.

Quick Peer Review Page Update is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com