Larry Brooks's Blog, page 52

3 Edgy Little Tips to Make Your Story More Compelling

If you've studied the Six Core Competencies, you already know they comprise a set of requisite elements and skills that will get your novel into the hunt.  A weakness in any one will seriously compromise your shot at finding a publisher or audience.

 But that's all they are.  Despite being non-negotiable benchmarks.

 There is also a set of underlying story "physics" – qualitative essences that define the reading experience — that comprise the stuff of artistic merit, even genius.  Like Bernoulli's Principle of fluid/aerodynamics is what allows an airplane to actually fly, it is not the airplane itself, nor its wings or engines.  That part comes from Boeing.

 It's just the requisite physics.  The ones that Mr. Bernoulli defined in 1738, some 65 years before the Wright Brothers applied them to flying machines.

 With stories, those physics include dramatic tension, pacing, reader empathy and intrinsic appeal at a core conceptual level.

 An author's command of both realms of storytelling – the understanding of those literary physics in combination with their implementation through the six core competencies – that become the difference between a story that really works and one that, despite having all the core competencies competently checked off, disappears in a crowd.

 That, a little luck and a fat promotional budget.

 It's about the little things. 

 Creating a total package that doesn't just add up, it exceeds the sum of the parts.

 It's also about consistency, balance and choices.

 Here are three little ways, from a long list of other little ways, that will help raise your story to heavenly heights.  These reside on top of the layer cake that comprises the Six Core Competencies of Successful Writing.

 Think of them as frosting, only with protein and vitamins and propensity for addiction.

1. Give your hero an interesting career.

With the exception of the detective genre, you get to hire your main character into any job you want.  Sometimes that decision is driven by the content and context of your story… pathologist, politician, doctor, etc.

Other times, when the job isn't central to the story, you still have an opportunity to give them something interesting to do during the work day.

The key here is to make what they do interesting.  Something that says volumes about who they are, where they've come from, and how it defines their world view and current state of mind. 

This aligns with vicarious reading experience law of literary physics, versus making the hero's job as mundane and vanilla as the reader's.

2. Give your hero a distracting personal relationship.

It's easy to get lost in a one-dimensional landscape of characterization as we thrust our heroes into the heat of our stories.  But real life isn't like that.  And while it isn't always the best idea to make your story a mirror of real life, it can be good to give your hero something else to think about.

Like, a relationship.  A love affair.  A parent thing.  A boss issue.

The idea here is to make this relationship distracting for the hero.  Something that provides a reason to survive, or keep one foot in the here and now as they go about saving the world.

 Welcome to your sub-plot.

Superman had Lois Lane.  Otherwise he's just someone who, if we're honest about it, we can't really relate to.

3. Give your antagonist a noble goal.

Or at least a goal that began nobly, or one that springs from a sympathetic need.

One dimensional bad guys (no gender applied here) are easy and tempting.  But when you give them something that causes us to wonder what went wrong, they become even more interesting.

In the film, The Island, Michael Bay's homage to science fiction excess, the bad guy (played perfectly by Sean Bean) wanted at the core of his being to rid the world of childhood disease.  And, it should be added, to get filthy stinking rich in the process, moral compass be damned.

Of course, if your antagonist is a tornado or a flood – a perfectly legit storytelling option, by the way – then never mind.  Never met a sympathetic natural disaster… so in that case try to burden your hero with a pesky inner demon that must be conquered before the dike can be built.

The inner demon thing is a good idea for any hero, by the way.  When that inner demon has a twist or an edge that makes the going tougher for our hero, so much the better.

Thinking about publishing your story on Kindle or iBook?  Finding the process a bit confusing?  Then you need to read and consider this.

3 Edgy Little Tips to Make Your Story More Compelling is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Core Clarification On a Few Core Competencies

(Please forgive the small formatting errors — spacing, to be precise — toward the end of this post.  WordPress isn't cooperating… wish they'd give me back the previous version, in which any errors were mine.)

Book reviews are tricky from the author's point of view.  You want 'em, but you want 'em a certain way.  And we have absolutely no control over what reviewers write about our work.

With novels, we're stuck with what they write.  Even if they didn't get it.  And certainly if they didn't like it.

But with non-fiction, reviewers are suddenly as much at risk as the author being reviewed.  Because often a review will mention a specific issue or stance, and while we (as authors) shouldn't comment on their opinions, we are perfectly licensed, even obligated, to pipe up when they represent what we've written in an inaccurate way, factually-speaking.

I can't complain about the reviews of my new book, "Story Engineering: Mastering The Six Core Competencies of Sucessful Writing."  There are 33 reviews posted on Amazon as I type this, and a bunch of others on websites here and there.  For the most part they're great, the book is hitting the mark., and it's been the #1 bestselling Kindle fiction writing craft book for weeks now.  Of course nothing works for everybody, especially when you happen to be as passionate and, sometimes, assertive as I am.

Some writers absolutely hate it when another writer makes an assertation about writing, which I do, and frequently.  Especially when it doesn't represent their point of view.  Which, with writing, can be all over the map.

But they aren't all 5-star reviews.  The good news is that 23 of the 33 are 5-star reviews, leaving eight with 4-stars, and one each that offer 3-stars and 2-stars, respectively.

Won't comment on those. 

But a couple of the 4-star reviewers, who liked the book enough to give it that grade, tell readers that I make certain statements and assertations in the book that are, to put it bluntly, misrepresented.  A 180 from the truth.  When we're dealing with something as complex and artful as writing a story, any mistake in understanding the basics can be harmful.  Not so much to me as the author, but to someone reading the review.

So I need to respond.  Which I've done in the comment section of those reviews.  Which I offer up here, just to be clear.

The lastest 4-star reviewer said this, and inaccurately so:

I am a bit dismayed by his intimation that fluid elegant writing is unimportant, but in the context of the commercial fiction market that may well be true.

Yes it may.  Here is my response:

I never assert that elegant prose isn't important, at least to the extent implied here. I assert that such prose WITHOUT the other five core competencies is indeed unimportant, and unpublished. I also posit that "elegant" prose isn't a criteria at all, simply that clean, professional and compelling prose is. The bookshelves are full of successful and wonderful books that are anything but elegant. This should be great news to writers everywhere, you don't have to write like Jonathan Franzen to have a successful book, or certainly, to tell a compelling story.
 
Just try writing an elegantly written story… that sucks.  Then again, don't, you'd be wasting your time.
 
Another review, on another issue, said this:
 
I felt that his extensive use of Dan Brown's "The Da Vinci Code" was unfortunate. I agree that Brown follows the recommended structure, but without the enticing clues and mysterious background, I don't think the book works well. Perhaps this is because I hate chase scenes with no character development. So while I enjoyed "Story Engineering," I have some reservations about how useful structure is if you don't have excellent content and characterization.
 
Wow.  Maybe she had taken her Ambien while reading.   Did she miss the part about there being five other core competencies?
Here is my response to this one:

 
This review is fair, but slightly misleading on one count, and I'd like to correct it. While I do cite The Davinci Code as a structural model, I do make it VERY clear that even with this in play, it takes more than structure to make a story work. In fact, I pound home the point, and in multiple places, that one can indeed have all six core competencies in place (only one of which is structure), and the story still won't find a publisher and/or a readership (criteria that are no longer joined at the hip). I also make it clear that ALL six are required, not just structure. In the case of Davinci, I explain that it was Brown's huge concept and thematic power (two of the core competencies) that put this book on the map, not the structure, and certainly not his character development (which was fine, but in my opinion, something short of stellar) nor his writing voice. It's interesting that when something comes along that challenges the world view of some writers, which my book certainly does, they suddenly have blind spots and amnesia about the full -icture scope of what they're reading. Rest assured, this reviewer is correct, it takes more than structure to write a great story and/or find a publisher and an audience. And rest assured, my book makes this crystal clear.
 
I would never comment on a review of one of my novels, but I need to defend the truth in this book.
One more assertation.  Several readers were — predictably — not happy with the assertion that successful stories do indeed have structure, and go so far as to state that to write a story in context to structural principles (which is what the book offers, rather than a forumla or absolutes) is or them at least 9though a few imply it as a universal truth) that writing with structure somehow hinders creativity.
Wow again.  Pass the Ambien.
Don't confuse process with outcome. 
Process is always personal and negotiable.  While my initial Storyfix posts may not have reflected that strongly enough, believe me, I get it, and these days I represent it that way in everything I do.  But don't be confused or misled — no matter how you write, if you end up with a successful story it WILL have structure to it, and it WILL look a lot like the fundamental structure that, well, almost every other successful book has. 
Just like an airplane's gotta have wings.  Don't get on one that doesn't.
 
Here are a few of the headers on some Amazon reviews, for your consideration:
 
Should be #1 on ALL writers' bookshelves.
 
Saved My Novel.
 
Learn how to write a great story!
 
You Write? Remove All Doubt and Buy This Book!
 
The best ever How-To book.
 
It made my life better!
 
The most useful book about novel writing ever written.
 
Essential reading.
 
The Book Every Beginning Writer Needs to Read.
 
Thanks for reading Storyfix today.
 

 

Core Clarification On a Few Core Competencies is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

A Perspective on Cataclysmic Criticism

We've all been there, felt that.  We've finished something that we've poured our souls into.  Spilled enough blood on it to warrant a transfusion.  

We wait.  We toss and turn.  It's in the hands of someone who needs to love it – an agent, an editor, a trusted friend.

Or worse, your proofreading significant other.  Who is almost always right.

And then it happens. 

It totally sucks.

That's not what they'll say, of course. 

No, it'll sound more like, "we have to talk."  There are major problems.  It's just not working.  Tell me what you were thinking here.

What were you thinking? 

Well, that it was the best you had in you.  That it would launch your Big Career.  That it would make someone at the New York Times Review of Books want your phone number.  And that, while you are welcoming of feedback and expected to hear some stuff, you weren't expecting a one-way ticket under the bus.

The news hits hard.  Like, an IRS audit kind of hard.  Like, maybe I'm kidding myself kind of hard.

But here's the deal. 

It might not be that bad. 

Even if the critic is someone with more chops and credibility than Kirkus or Gene Siskel.

Really.  It happens all the time.  It's really not that bad at all.

In my experience, critics need to justify themselves.  They need to criticize.  And, they have buttons that, if pushed, allow for no recovery.

It's not that they're wrong, in fact they usually aren't.  But what happens is when something doesn't sit well with them, especially early in the story, the rest is rendered sour.  They can't get past it.  Like someone from Fox News reviewing a speech at the Democratic Convention.  Nothing is going to work after that first sound-bite.

A fly in the soup might validly send someone bolting from the dinner table.  But it doesn't mean the whole meal is a travesty, or that the recipe needs an overhaul.

It's just a fly.  Take it out and the whole nasty "it sucks" problem goes away.

I've lived this little literary nightmare several times. 

A character is too flat.  The setting isn't vivid enough.  There's too much focus on the sex or the violence or the backstory.

Not all at once, mind you… all of these story-killing flies fluttering in the soup at once would indeed merit a stinker review.  No, these were isolated little ditties of validly criticized minutia, out-of-synch moments, poor creative calls… all easily fixed.

That's the thing to look for when someone says a story isn't working.  Is it true, or is it something that is easily fixed?

It's critical that you drill down beneath the psychology – which manifests as blindness after the shocking explosion of a single moment of distaste – behind the criticism.  Is the color of the house all wrong, even though the place is otherwise an architectural palace?  Is the meal perfectly scrumptious even though it's served on cracked china?  Is the story stellar even though the main character isn't as witty and charming as he or she could be?  Or that they swear too much?

Maybe.

Or maybe the whole thing really does suck. 

It's your job to make that call.

Just as it was your call to create those narrative details in the first place, it's your job to decide what to do with such input.  It should always be considered, but it should also always be broken down and evaluated.

The total shambles that you turned in might be salvaged with a twenty-minute tweak.  That's happened to me, too, and more than once. 

Turn a few screws, tighten down a few details, slap on a new coat of paint… and miracles can happen.  You turn it back in, all buffed up and humbled before the genius input of your critic, and you just might hear raves.

Because it was the critic who saved it.  Of course it was.

In which case, you can just smile and say thank you in the knowledge that no story is perfect out of the printer.  You don't have to reveal that it was always just a spit-shine away from being every bit as good as you thought it was all along.

As writers we live and die with such decisions. 

Fixing what isn'teally broken can sometimes be the worst one you can make.

A Perspective on Cataclysmic Criticism is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

The "Art" of Writing. Framed.

You're sitting there writing. You look up.  And you see this.

This is the real deal, an inspired, inspiring and whimsical work by a professional artist with a thing for writing and writers.  Because she does that, too.

I ran across Barbara Rudolph at an art show, and of course when I saw this image I stopped dead in my tracks.  Turns out Stephanie Meyer had been by, too, and bought some of her work, as had many others. 

As can you, by the way.  You don't have to be Stephanie Meyer to afford it — unless you want the original, which is available — but then again, this isn't a poster from Target. 

Barbara was kind enough to allow me to display this for your enjoyment.  Check out her website HERE… and her blog HERE.  She has several other book-themed pieces that incorporate the bird, metahpor and all.

Happy Easter to all!  May your stories all sing.

The "Art" of Writing. Framed. is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Oh, the Drama of it All!

Mining The Foundations of Your Story

Art – indeed, life itself – is all about recognizing and building layers.  Some theoretical, some physical, some experiential.

This is why the President of the United States, according to law, must be at least 35 years of age.

This is why kids shouldn't drink and octogenarians shouldn't pilot airplanes.  It's why you need an advanced degree before you operate on someone's brain. 

Because there's the procedure… and then… there's science, based on proven theory.

Same with art, too.  Any painter will tell you that their work is layered, and that experience is what unlocks the potential of those layers.  Whether it begins with a pencil sketch or simply spilling color onto a blank canvas, the finished product is always a process of layering and evolution.

Same with architecture, teaching, psychology, engineering, venture capital investing, accounting, landscaping or just about anything else that has even the slightest element of skill involved. 

Bridges, for example, come in all sizes and shapes and styles.  Yet even so, every bridge depends on an identical set of natural weight-bearing laws, called physics.  Violate them and the whole thing comes crashing down, no matter how beautiful the arches.

So it is with storytelling.

What I call the Six Core Competencies of storytelling – concept, character, theme, structure, scene execution and writing voice – is really a way to describe story development.  To identify the standards, criteria and specific realms that must be addressed for a story to work.

These, too, are simply layers.  But they are based on something that resides beneath them, propping them up, bearing the weight of the story.  Without these foundations, the six core competencies are just power tools without an outlet.

When regarded alone, each core competency is a discreet layer that contributes to the architecture of the overall story.  When combined (and plugged in), however, they become a higher stratum of storytelling – this is where the art resides – and when that layer is polished, this is what the world will experience, for better or worse.

The undoing of many writers is to begin with and focus on the skills without an adequate understanding of what resides beneath it all, bearing the weight of the story and holding everything in place.

What does lurk beneath it all? 

The answer is, as with that bridge, physics.  Literary physics.  Forces that, when applied, always empower a story and, when absent, render it inadequate.

Don't like bridges?  Try this: these literary physics are what the principles of aerodynamics are to the designing of an airplane.  You can fly one without an understanding of them, but you cannot build an airplane without it.

We are the designers of our stories before we are the builders of our stories. 

And as such, we are bound by theories of dramatic physics.  It is incumbent upon us to understand the underlying literary principles –natural dramatic forces – that make fiction work.

Just like the Six skill-based Core Competencies, these foundational, theoretical principles are non-negotiable.  And yet they are malleable and can be rendered artfully – indeed, this is what separates the great from the good and the good from the rest – while always residing in some for at the very  core of a great story.

A surgeon must understand biochemistry.  An architect must understand engineering dynamics.  A visual artist must understand perspective and dimension.  A musician must understand musical theory, even if it is instinctual.

And a writer must understand dramatic theory.

The good news is that, unlike bridge building, literary physics are often instinctual – the so-called "natural storyteller" – much more so than a mastery of the Six Core Competencies that brings them to life.

Dramatic Theory: The Foundations of Fiction

Just as the Six Core Competencies become discreet skill categories that house its own roster of storytelling tools, so too do the foundations of dramatic theory break down into a handful of separate buckets.

There are four major dimensions of dramatic theory to consider:

Dramatic Tension

There must be opposing goals or forces in play in your story.  Otherwise the story becomes episodic, more descriptive than expository.  An essay, a memoir, a vignette, a character sketch.  A good story is a question asked and answered. Unless there is a hero who needs or wants something (the compelling nature of which is the power of the story), and there are forces opposing that need or desire (the fear of which is also empowering), and there are consequences hanging in the balance, it's not yet a fully functional story.

All six of the core competencies are in context to this truth.

Reader Empathy

This is a make or break deal.  The reader needs to care.  They need to be involved in the story, both emotionally and intellectually.  This is done through a combination of character craft and the establishing of stakes.

Flow and Pace

Like a pretty face, things get much more interesting when that face says and does things that surprise and compel us.  When there is complexity behind the smile.  A story must move into that complexity, both forward and backward (through the implication of backstory), in and out of various focuses, but always driving toward an outcome through the addition of expository information and an evolution of dynamics brought about by the actions of the characters.

The largest can of worms among the six core competencies – story structure, with its attendant parts and mission-driven milestones – is the tool that puts this theory into practice.

Vicarious Experience

For all its potential, even all of this can fall flat if the reader doesn't feel the moment in the key scenes of a story.  This is where vivid description and visceral linguistics come into play (the core competency of writing voice), bringing the narrative alive in a way that transcends the page and becomes a portal to another existence. 

Issues such as time, place, setting and arena are driven by this theory.  If the reader is immersed in a new reality or within a realm so compelling they'll forgive even a pedestrian story – think The Davinci Code – you win.

The extent to which these literary physics are seized and optimized is the extent to which the story will be effective.  That said, the extent to which they are assembled and rendered via the Six Core Competencies also becomes the extent to which the story will be effective.

The airplane needs the pilot, the pilot needs the airplane, and both are subject to the natural laws of aerodynamics that get the thing off the ground.

This is why writing a great story will always be art.  Just as long as the craft embraces both realms.  It is always a dance between art and craft, music and lyrics, singer and song.

This dance becomes our goal and our journey as writers.

In my book and on this site, I've often said that the Six Core Competencies that build on these foundations (an optimization of dramatic theory is the goal of the six core competencies) are just the ante-in, the entry-level skills to get into the writing game at a professional level.

That said, one might legitimately wonder why, then, a story that covers all of these bases with a nifty level of skill still might not find a publisher or an audience.  Both a fair and frightening question.

The answer is found beneath the core competencies – down there under the bridge below the surface of the water – because it is here where a qualitative assessment kicks in.

A story that nails all six of the core competencies can still suck.  

But a story that nails all six and in the process optimizes the four foundational realms of literary physics – dramatic tension, reader empathy, flow/pace and vicarious experience – will never suck.

When we arrive at a place where we finally understand the architecture, nuances, elements, skills and essences that make a story great, we will have one foot planted firmly in each realm.

How are you doing at the foundational level of your storytelling?  Can you differentiate this realm of story dynamics from the realm of competence in story design and execution?  Or are you just flying the airplane — pushing buttons because the operator's manual says to – without a clue as to how it gets off the ground?

One is physics, the other is physical.

Oh, the Drama of it All! is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Ten Top Tips From Top Ten Tippers… Another Free 30-Minute Workshop Disguised As An Interview… And Some News

What if ten of the top writing bloggers chipped in their very best (or least favorite) writing tip, and a benevolent website collected 'em all and posted the list for your reading pleasure and creative enlightenment?

Click through to Writetodone.com to check it out.   

Listen up.

Once again what was supposed to be an interview about my new writing book – this time on national radio — turned into a spontaneous writing workshop.  The show is Open Book with Diana Page Jordan… you can check it out here.

And you don't even have to look at my mug this time.

The May/June Issue of Writers Digest Magazine

If you subscribe, you already have it.  If not, it'll be on your local newsstand soon, if not already.

Look on page 58… you'll find an article — an excerpt from the book, actually — by yours truly, on "Buiding Backstory," with a sidebar piece on "Crafting Backstory for a Series."  Then on the next page there's another backstory article by Hallie Ephron.

Me and Hallie, hangin' out in Writers Digest.  Who'd a thunk it.

There's also a cool interview with Pat Conroy, one of my favorite authors and someone we can all look to for storytelling excellence.

Now if I could actually get in the same room with those two, that'd be something.

101 Best Websites for Writers

Also in that issue of Writers Digest magazine… their annual list of the 101 Best Websites for Writers.

Happy and proud to announce… Storyfix made the list.  Thanks in large part to those of you who visit here regularly.  You have my sincere gratitude.

The list is broken down into categories, and the sites are listed alphabetically within each of them.  Storyfix is listed in the "Writing Advice" category (numbers 30 through 45), in the #42 slot. 

Ten Top Tips From Top Ten Tippers… Another Free 30-Minute Workshop Disguised As An Interview… And Some News is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Getting Lost in L.A. — An Analogy

Interesting banter happening on Amazon regarding my new book. 

Can't complain about the reviews, except one (a few readers are complaining for me on that one).  Even one of the 4-star reviewers was put off by my — clearing throat here — enthusiasm and the need to set-up the context and application of the story development strategy I advocate.  Fair enough.  Not the first time I've been told to get on with it.

One particular review offers a headline that any writer would kill to see. 

And he mentions that writers like Elmore Leonard do just fine, thank you, beginning the story development process with an idea or a character in their head and then just taking off with it.  They sit down and begin writing.

In other words, pantsing.

That can work.  Maybe it can even work for you.  I hope it does, if that's your thing.  But look before you leap.  Because the bottom of that barrel is littered with the remains of writers who did so with their eyes closed.

I've posted a comment in response to that review, and on this subject, that clarifies why you need to select your story development process carefully.  Or at least in context to being fully informed. 

Here it is.

I love that you mention Leonard and Wodehouse and their opposing processes. Opens an important door of awareness that helps clarify my position on story development. Three words: he's Elmore Leonard. The entire landscape of story architecture is embedded in his head. It's instinct. This is true of pretty much every so called "pantser" who emerges as a brand name author… they get it. The end product is in full alignment with story engineering principles and physics, they just observe the priniciples and create a a blueprint coincident with the actual creation of their narrative. It's like filling in blanks for these writers.
 
Newer writers? Not a good strategy. It's like someone who is given an address in, say, Los Angeles, with an important payload, and is told to drive there in less than a day. If they know the landscape, if they've driven it before, if they're professional-level street navigators, then sure, they don't need a map. They don't need a backseat driver. In fact, they can get lost in the music and scenery as they drive, because wrong turns are unlikely. But the person who has never been in L.A. before? Who has no sense of direction? Even if they're a fantastic "driver"? That's gonna take a while. And dead ends and even dark alleys are inevitable.
 
Newer writers who think they can do what Elmore Leonard and Stephen King do, at their level, are in for some harsh realities. My book is simply an effort to show them a way to get to that level faster, and without getting mugged.

Getting Lost in L.A. — An Analogy is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

A Master Class in Crime Noir

We write.  Therefore we read.

Or at least we should.  Especially after we become acquainted with the technical nuts and bolts of story architecture… once you know this stuff you can't help but see it at work within successful stories — both books and movies — in a way that jumps out at you.

And, serves as a model of what works.  No matter what your process, what works is always the goal.

The following review appeared this week in The Oregonian newspaper, used by permission.  The novel is, as the title suggests, an example worth studying.

We're lucky that way.  We get to study and enjoy a good book at the same time.

"The Troubled Man," By Henning Mankell… A Review by Larry Brooks

It's good to be Swedish these days.  Especially if you're an author of dark mystery thrillers. 

Such is the global fallout from a breakout series that dominates both the bestseller and box office charts, as fueled by the iconic Stieg Larson trilogy and their on-screen adaptations.  With all three sub-titled films being redone by U.S. writers and directors, this phenomenon will continue over the next few years, do doubt giving even more Swedish writers their shot at a hungry U.S.-based readership.

But in case you thought the current buzz about Swedish noir began and ended with the late Stieg Larson and his heroine with the Dragon Tattoo, this is about as true as the current equity in American mysteries belonging entirely to Michael Connelly, an assumption which might ruffle the feathers of writers like Dashiel Hammet, Ellery Queen or even Ross Macdonald.  Because like Connelly, Larson had his way paved by a Swedish literary institution, in this case one who continues to write what crime lit afficianados recognize to be among the finest the genre has ever produced.

His name is Henning Mankell, best known stateside for last year's The Man From Beijing.  Mankell (the son-in-law of film legend Ingmar Bergman) and his quite Harry Bosch-like protagonist, Kurt Wallander, is a global legend known not only for his multi-million selling novels and his father-in-law, but also for his work as a playwright, screenwriter, children's author and philanthropist.

His newest novel, The Troubled Man, is the final chapter in the Wallander series, coming a decade after the latest of its nine predecessors.

Reading Mankell is a study in the marriage of characterization and the sub-text of plot.  The latter is a tasty resurrection of cold war intrigued based on a real-life government cover-up (not unlike what Nelson Demille tried to pull off in 2007's Night Fall), complete with spies, cyanide pills, secrets taken to the grave by corrupt leaders and a hero who risks all because he has to know the truth to allow himself to view his diminishing career as having been meaningful.  Throw in a delayed mid-life crisis, a daughter with a mind of her own and the emerging sense of his own shuffling off to the pasture of a desk job, and you've got a story that rings deeper and hinges on personal stakes unlike most reads from this end of the shelf.

While the plot alone would compel a reader to forfeit a few early nights to experience this web of intrigue connecting in unexpected and satisfying ways, it is the voice of the author through his hero and the illumination of layers of life in a thankless profession that suck the reader into a delicious abyss of urgency battling with hopelessness, a rationalization of risk versus a reward already buried under a false headstone.

Mankell isn't going away, he's got more literary fight left in him than does his retiring hero, Wallander.  But if you want to catch the segue from one Henning Mankell era to the next, now is the time to hop on the Kurt Wallander train and lose yourself in a story that envelopes as it challenges.  And if you still aren't sure who this guy is, just keep an eye on the best seller lists over the next few months, because you're certain to see him there next to the title of this stellar work.

Larry Brooks' latest book is "Story Engineering: Mastering the Six Core Competencies of Successful Writing," published in February by Writers Digest Books.

A Master Class in Crime Noir is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

A Free 30-Minute Video Workshop. Here. Now.

You may have seen this.  Based on click-through statistics, probably not.

What began as an interview with Joanna Penn (she's wonderfully Aussie, I'm regrettably not… love that accent) about my new book turned out to be a spontaneous primer on the writing mindset and how story architecture fits into that vital aspect of the experience.

In the tradeoff between investing 30 minutes of your day in Entertainment Tonight or this, I'm thinking this is the better writerly bet.

My wife says I sat too close to the camera, and you should know that the metal pole in the background is a bed post, not a prison bar.  Other than that, I think you'll find lots here to light your brain on fire.

Visit The Creative Penn for a wealth of good stuff about writing stories, including a ton of other interviews.

Oh… almost forgot (you buying that?)… please purchase "Story Engineering" HERE , my kid has one more year of college left, and all of us only have so much time to spend learning the craft of storytelling for real.

Useless side note: This is the 301st Storyfix post (not counting the 20 or so I've pulled off for various reasons).  It's also the very first video.  I'm thinking there's more to come.  Once I figure out the buttons.

A Free 30-Minute Video Workshop. Here. Now. is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

The Dark Side of the New Age of Self-Publishing

This really happened.  This week, in fact.

On Thursday I got the email that all writers dream about.  It was from a major television network, inviting me to appear on their morning talk show as part of their regular "author's corner" segment.

That heady context alone tends to blind one to the dark side. Especially since that dark side is completely new to the author/PR paradigm.

The network was Lifetime.

Okay, not exactly Good Morning America, but still.  A pretty big deal.

Even more cool was the fact that this wasn't about my new writing book, which is getting the kind of buzz that might attract a national television network.  No, this was all about my last novel, Whisper of the Seventh Thunder, which was released from a small publisher (Sons of Liberty) a little over a year ago.  Long enough for that particular buzz to have hushed.

Anybody who launches a book with a small publisher, or on their own, is hoping for a tipping point catalyst to descent upon them. For a moment there, I thought this was it.

The nice fellow on the other end of the email said he'd learned of my novel as a result of it winning the "Best Suspense Thriller" category in last year's Next Generation Indie Publishing Awards, sort of the poor man's Edgars.  So of course I opened my mind to this and began visualizing the tipping pointesque aftermath of such an opportunity.

It sounded so good.

Fly to Florida to shoot the interview.  Pre-interview with the hosts, who, unlike the major network hosts, would actually read the book.  Help position it for a largely female viewership.  Alert the publisher to an impending massive reprint.

And then the other shoe fell.  They wanted me to pay them $5900 for a "licensing fee."

At first I thought they were offering to pay me (hey, we hear what we want to hear, especially when intoxicated by the proximity of a national TV interview).  But no.

First response: rationalize.  Try to justify it.  Quiet the inner skeptic.  Be bold, seize the moment, go for it.

So I ran it by my publisher.  My publicist (for the new writing book) at Writers Digest Books.  Several published authors.  And my wife.

It was unanimous: something is wrong with this picture.

The word "scam" came up in all feedback.  Including from the veteran professional book publicist, who has placed numerous authors on all the major networks.

This isn't how it's supposed to work.  It isn't how it's always worked.  This is new.

Frankly, I don't think it's a scam, exactly.

I think it's a business strategy – as in, for profit — from the production entity that has managed to place their program on Lifetime.  An angle to seize and profit from the ambitions and perhaps naivety of small press and self-published authors.  Which, if you've been paying attention, are swamping the old publishing model and rendering bookstores and perhaps even major publishers obsolete.

There's a new sheriff in town.  And you need to make sure he's not on the take.

I checked the Lifetime website for this, and it's apparently legit. But there are no A-list authors there, nobody whose name I recognized.  In fact, there's no Big-6 authors there.  Also in fact, as far as I could see, there are no authors there who aren't self-published.

There's nothing wrong with self-published authors investing in promotion.  In fact, it's a necessity.  But with opportunity comes opportunists.  And that's the yellow flag.

It's certainly up to the writer to decide if an investment of $5900 in their promotional strategy is a good idea.  But the salient point here is this: watch your back.  It takes a boat load of sales to cover this opportunity (add your travel expenses to the tab).

As a side note, one publisher I talked to said he'd placed an author on a regional program — at no cost, by the way — and sold a total of seven books in the process.  Take note.

I did suggest to my new Lifetime friend that the cost was prohibitive, and that I would be delighted to appear on their program if they could wave the fee.  The answer was a firm no.

Plenty of small and self-published authors out there willing to write this check, I guess.

Would they charge Amanda Hocking $5900 to be on this program? Probably. Would they charge, say, Chelsea Cain to be on this program?  Don't think so.  Then again, they wouldn't invite Chelsea Cain, because she's likely already talking to Good Morning America.

It's a targeted strategy.  And you and I occupy a spot in the bullseye.  As you watch your sales, be sure to also watch your back.

As an ironic footnote, the name of the guy who invited me on the show is "Fake."  That's his last name.  Fake.

You can't make this shit up, folks.

Would you pay $5900 to appear on a national cable show purportedly with several hundred thousand early morning viewers?

The Dark Side of the New Age of Self-Publishing is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com