Larry Brooks's Blog, page 53

How to Double Your Entry-Level Self-Publishing Learning Curve… In About an Hour

Here's a dirty little secret for you.  Successful bloggers aren't necessary propeller heads.  We may or may not know more about how to navigate all things digital than the lowest common internet denominator in your life.

Personally, I suck at it.  I've thrown more money at third-party consultants than I have at my CPA.  Which is sort of sad.

It's frustrating sometimes, because pretty much everything we do as bloggers ends up translated to a page like the one you're reading.

And that includes self-publishing our work.

If you've been hanging here, you know I've been selling four ebooks through Storyfix.  Two of which you may have purchased, and, based on results, two of which you probably didn't.  I've pulled "Story Structure – Demystified" and "The Three Dimensions of Character" for the time being because that content has been integrated into my new writing book (not self-published and not an ebook, unless you order the Kindle version through Amazon and other online venues).

That's just an FYI, by the way… the ebooks I'm discussing here are the kind you see on Kindle and Nook and on iBook.  The kind with more and more established names on their covers.

Some of you have observed that I'm pretty focused on "publishing," and by implication, traditional publishing.  As in, Big Six relationships.  While that was true not so long ago, I'm coming around.

I've seen the light, and it's blinding.

I'm in a boat that contains a large congregation of traditionally published writers who now own all rights to their previously published work.  Some of which were bestsellers, some of which are dripping with starred reviews and "best of" list inclusions.

One of the newest trends in self-publishing is, in fact, authors like this — authors like me — who are re-releasing their backlist as Kindle and ePub products, and at ridiculously low prices by comparison.

I'm in that boat, too.  I've just released my most critically-successful novel, "Bait and Switch" through Kindle.  And I'm here to tell you… it was about as easy as reprogramming your DVR to send you back in time to an era when publishing was simple and straight-forward.

If you think or hope I'm going to tell you how to head down that road here and now, I'm not.  Not directly.  Having just done it, I'm only half confident I can even describe the process, because I still don't understand half of it.

Still writing those checks to those third-party experts.

I'll just say this: it isn't as easy as downloadig an MS Word version of your manuscript to the Amazon Kindle website (which isn't even called that in this context).  No, you need to reformat it into something that will probably seem foreign and contrived… and do this before you even send it to the magician who will get it up and running on Kindle.

After the reformatting comes the re-programming.  Into something called "mobi," which is apt because it's a whale of a complicated thing to do.  And expensive to get done, even if one does know what it all means.

By the time you design a cover, design and format — or reformat — the interior of the ebook, buy an ISBN, get it uploaded to Amazon, and launch any hint of marketing for the thing, you'll have close to two grand in it.

At $2.99, which is the going price for a Kindle novel these days, that's a lot of ground to cover before you break even.

And that implies you know how it's all done.

What the vocabulary means and how to wield it.  You really shouldn't even head down this road until you do, because it's still up to you to be sure you don't skip a step, or worse, get taken to the cleaners by an emerging cadre of suppliers who know a sucker when they see one.

I recently encountered what, for me, became an elusive and comprehensive magic pill of 101-level information on this subject.  It's a concise little training program assembled by Joanna Penn, and it anticipates and answers all the fearful questions you and I know we have at the moment the notion of self-publishing pops into our naive little heads.

You'll learn what it all means.  The order in which it needs to happen.  You'll get links to resources you need, including the Kindle, Smashwords and iBook upload pages.  There are video interviews with experts — including the guy who invented Smashwords — who will talk you through the process, and in the context of understanding how intimidating this can be.

It's the best forty bucks I've spent in a long time.  Because I have three other backlisted novels next in line, and they won't torment me like the first one did.

If this is you, if you're considering self-publishing and you don't know a mobi file from a pcp, or how to find and correct all the stuff in your word document that Kindle will reject faster than Random House heaved your last masterpiece (yes, the e-publishers have standards, and they reject books that don't meet them)… then I encourage you to check this out.

Click here to view more details

How to Double Your Entry-Level Self-Publishing Learning Curve… In About an Hour is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Story Architecture: A Clinic With Popcorn

Lessons from The Source Code

Imagine an aspiring doctor or med student who, upon being invited to sit in on a lung replacement operation, declines because they're planning on going into podiatry and, besides, they have a conflicting tee time.

Only on Grey's Anatomy.

Which is my way of introducing you to a movie I'm hoping you'll check out.  One that may or may not be your cup of Joe.  It's science fiction, with elements of action thriller and speculative adult drama.

It'll be worth your time.  Both as a movie experience, and more importantly, as a writer seeking to steepen your learning curve on story structure.

It's called The Source Code.

It stars Jake Gyllenhaal (pronounced Jill 'n Hall in case you've never watched Extra on TV) as a decorated soldier who suddenly wakes up – the term used loosely here – inside the body and life of another man, someone he'd never heard of.  At first it's as confusing to him as it is to the viewer.

The film has been getting good reviews and it's a lot of fun, in addition to being thought-provoking.  But more importantly, it's a clinic for writers, one that strips away the flesh of dialogue and setting to exposure the bare bones of story structure and dramatic physics.

If you're struggling to understand story architecture, if you're a "show me" type of learner, or if you'd simply like to the see Six Core Competencies play out before your writerly eyes as if someone was narrating with Cliff Notes and a highlighter… this is the story.

You might even want to see it twice.

Check your watch, the plot points happen right when they're supposed to.

Notice how the hook happens early.  As in, the first scene.  And how the hook isn't the First Plot Point (it never is), it's just a way of kicking things off in a compelling way by posing questions that compel answers.

Notice how the first quartile of the story – Part 1 – is 100% a set-up of what's to come, none of it explained.  This is intentional and perfect, the job here isn't to answer questions, it's to pose them. 

Also, if you notice there's precious little here in Part/Act I  in the way of character establishment or development, well, that's part of the set-up.  Be patient.

Pay attention to how – and this is critical – nothing changes at the First Plot Point. 

That isn't a rule, it's an option.  But the role of the First Plot Point isn't optional.

When the First Plot Point arrives (right on time, too, and clearly so, as the hero demands answers to the same questions you've been asking), it fulfills the primary purpose of this most important of all the story milestones: the hero suddenly has a mission.  A quest.  A need.  One neither he nor the viewer fully understood before this moment.  One with an opponent.  One with stakes (that weren't there until the FPP).

Notice how, after the First Plot Point, everything that happens is there to show the hero's response to this new agenda and quest.

Then – and it is just as critical – comes a whopper of Mid-Point context shift. 

The curtain parts, both for the audience and the hero, which is the first job of the Mid-Point.  Note how this changes the context of the hero's journey (in Part 3, which follows), how he is suddenly in attack mode as opposed to the response mode of the second quartile (Part 2) of the story.

Then comes the Second Plot Point, which is even more astounding and game-changing than the First.  Notice how the story spins in a new direction here toward what we know will be the climax of it all, and how our hero takes charge –  literally – of that resolution.

It's all classic story architecture.

Notice, too, how this is all concept-driven, and how the concept is exposed early but not explained until, well, the First Plot Point.  This isn't a rule, per se, it was the writer's choice, but in terms of how the set-up is built and the nature of the First Plot Point, it's perfect.

In fact, the First Plot is the explanation of the story's concept.

Notice how character builds, adding layers and backstory and inner demons along the way.  Notice how we begin to care about this guy, how the story becomes more than a cool and astoundingly original idea as it morphs into something we empathize with.

Something with theme infusing every scene.

Check out the sub-plot (a romance, often the best sub-plot you can create), which provides sub-text to the primary conflict.

And watch how the writer doesn't give it all away, how there are dead ends and suspect baddies and a nifty deception that's been visible all along if you just knew where to look.

And then, at the end – which, admittedly, relies on some very Hollywoodesque leaps of logic as it asks the viewer to just go with it (none of which compromises story structure, by the way) – makes you feel, makes you smile and maybe even pinch back a tear or two.

That's the power of theme.  Right here slapping you upside your head in this overtly high concept thriller being marketed to fan boys, popcorn movie lovers and Gyllenhaal fans.

Theme isn't optional.  Ever.  No matter how cool the special effects.  No more or no less than the other five core competencies.

The Model Exposed

Not everyone likes or writes science fiction or even high concept adult fiction.  Some writers favor character-driven drama, romance and the arena of historical context to add juice to the experience.

Not everyone believes movies are a place that can shed light on story architecture for novelists, either.

Doesn't matter, in either case.  When it's there for the taking, the exposure and illumination of classic story architecture at work, and effectively so, is an opportunity the real writer – in any genre – should not pass up.

Need more story architecture?  Check out my new book, "Story Engineering: Mastering the Six Core Competencies of Storytelling," out now from Writers Digest Books.

 

Also, if you'd like to see these principles demonstrated just as clearly in a critically-acclaimed novel, I've just released my 2004 novel, Bait and Switch, as a new Kindle edition for only $2.99.  Publishers Weekly gave it a starred review and named it to their "Best Books of 2004" list, so I'm not all full of myself in suggesting that you might just like it.  A funny, sexy thriller, if that's your thing.

  

 

Story Architecture: A Clinic With Popcorn is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Part 2: An Interview with Randy Ingermanson

Click HERE to read Part 1 if you missed it.  Them c'mon back, Randy's not done being really smart yet.

SF:  I'm wondering how your success as a writing teacher and "how-to"author has impacted your own novel-writing pursuits.  What are those, and where are you on that front?

RANDY: I published my six novels in a flurry that covered about five years. I won a bunch of awards, but didn't really see the kind of sales numbers I wanted to see.

About that time, my oldest daughter started college, I got laid off from my day job, my wife wanted to move across the country to take care of her aging parents, and I realized that I had an anxiety disorder that needed to be dealt with.  And, oh yeah, two of my contracted novels were cancelled, for two completely different reasons.  All of this happened in the course of about one year.

So I took a break from writing fiction.  Right about then, my career as a fiction teacher just took off like a rocket.  I'm not sure quite why.  The Snowflake method suddenly became known all over the world. I began getting a lot of invitations to teach at conferences.  And I began earning quite a lot of money from various teaching products on my web site.

I think when something is working well, it's a good idea to pursue it.  I've done that with a vengeance, by focusing on teaching fiction.  We moved to southern Washington.  I beat my anxiety disorder, which made it possible for me to do public speaking without massive panic attacks.  I got a higher-paying job working half time as director of software engineering at a biotech company in San Diego.  My teaching business has grown to the point that it's paying for two of my daughters to get through college.

The only thing I've left out in the cold has been my fiction-writing career.  I put that on hold and have been waiting for the opportune moment to pick it up again.  My agent has been quite patient through all this.  I wrote up a document a few years ago on "How I Plan To Achieve Total World Domination."  We talked through the document and he gave me his thumbs-up on the plan.  I'm on Step 6 right now (of 7 steps).  I plan to make my agent rich someday.  He's good with that.

The two halves of my writing life are starting to converge again.  My web site is earning me enough money that I really could walk away from my day job any time now.  (As it is, I only work half time, which has left me plenty of time to do my teaching gig.)

With the rise of e-books in the past year, I'm ready to relaunch all my out-of-print novels as e-books and give them a second chance for fame and glory (and doggone it, maybe some real money this time).

I'm also planning to release those unpublished manuscripts that got cancelled.  I think I can promote them effectively myself now. Altogether, I've got eight novels that I can release this year, if I work hard.

After that, I plan to keep on writing, keep on publishing, and go make that splash I always wanted to make.  Total World Domination is just one step away. 

SF:  A quick word, if you will, on how today's publishing environment has shifted, and how digital self-publishing changes the game.  Or not.

RANDY: I could talk for hours on this.  The game has completely changed.

Two years ago, self-published authors were pariahs.  They were sneered at.  They got no respect, no money, no nothing.

Today, self-published authors are making buckets of money.  As I write this, the big news is that 26-year-old self-pubbed author Amanda Hocking has just signed a four-book deal with St. Martin's Press for an advance reputed to be north of two megabucks.  John Locke has about half a dozen self-pubbed e-books on the Amazon Top 100 in the Kindle store, all priced at 99 cents.  Dozens of self-pubbed novelists are earning a good living from e-books.

The world is wide open.  There has never been a time like this in the history of the planet, where a writer could produce a book with almost no investment and get it distributed world-wide at no cost and get paid 70% royalties.

This if fantastic!  Authors have options.  This is scaring publishers to death, and rightly so.  The entire publishing world is in turmoil. Nobody knows how it'll turn out.

In my view, excellence still matters.  That hasn't changed and will never change.  The message that you and I teach, Larry, is more important than ever.  An author who doesn't write GREAT story is going to get lost in the flood of self-pubbed e-books.  An author who does write great story has a fighting chance.

And I'd add this:  That author has a better chance than ever, because she still has all the old options to go with traditional publishers, but she has new options as well.

It's a great time to be an author.  The future of fiction writing is incredibly bright.  Any writer can now be judged solely on her talent, not on her ability to impress the gatekeepers.

I believe we'll see new digital publishers rise in the next year or two.  We'll see some of the traditional publishers drop in revenue, but I don't think any of them have to die, if they play their cards right.  But everything is going to change.  Nobody knows for sure exactly how, but everything is going to change.

Except for the value of quality.  Quality will always be in style.

SF:  If you had an elevator ride with an aspiring writer who recognized you, what would you tell him is either the biggest and costliest mistake newer writers make… or the best thing they can do for their skill-set and career… or both?

RANDY: New writers often fail to understand the importance of branding. When you attach your name to a novel and publish it, that's an implicit contract you're making with your reader:  "I promise to produce more fiction like this in the future."

If you violate that contract, then your reader feels cheated.  Even if your next book is fantastic, it's not what the reader was expecting.

This has nothing to do with being "typecast" as an author.  It has everything to do with setting expectations and then meeting those expectations.

Let's say you go to a Chinese restaurant and order their "Buddha's Delight Vegi Plate."  The meal is amazing.  You tell all your friends about it.  You come back a month later with your buddy and . . . that plate is no longer on the menu.  In fact, all the Chinese food items are gone.  Instead, you've got a choice between an incredibly tempting "Eggplant Parmesan" or an equally inviting "Chile Relleno."

Those are great dishes, both of them.  But you came to the restaurant to have Chinese food!  And that's exactly what you didn't get.  No matter how good the actual menu is, the restaurant violated its implicit contract with you.  And you're mad as heck.  Rightly so. You won't go back to that place and you'll tell all your friends to give it a skip.

Consistency matters.  Quality and consistency.

When we talk about an author's brand, we mean the set of expectations the reader has when they see your name on the cover.

If you don't want to meet those expectations, that's fine.  Do the right thing and use a different pen name for that new, cool category you want to write.

Treat your readers the way you want to be treated.  They'll reward you for it.

(Click HERE to return to Part 1.)

Randy earned a Ph.D. in physics at U.C. Berkeley and is the award-winning author of six novels and one non-fiction book. He writes about "The Intersection of Faith Avenue and Science Boulevard."

Randy publishes the world's largest electronic magazine on the craft of writing fiction, the FREE monthly Advanced Fiction Writing E-zine. His ultimate goal is to become Supreme Dictator for Life and First Tiger and to achieve Total World Domination.

Oh yeah, there's that writing book, too.

*****

Storyfix Announcement: I'm in the process of re-releasing my backlist on Kindle and other digital platforms.  I've just launched "Bait and Switch" (my most critically-successful novel) on Kindle… click HERE to check it out (there's a free preview).  New cover, too.  The entire Amazon page hasn't populated yet, but you can click here (the paperback page) to read reviews, then go back to the Kindle page if you're in an ordering mood.  It's a sexy thriller that was named by Publisher's Weekly to their "Best Books of 2004″ list, so I hope you'll consider it.  Thanks.  Oh… it's only $2.99.

On the "Story Engineering" front, check this out from Writers Digest. 

Part 2: An Interview with Randy Ingermanson is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Interview With a Superstar Writing Mentor — Randy Ingermanson

Part 1 of a 2-part interview.  Because it's, like, long.

If you haven't heard of Randy Ingermanson, then chances are you've at least heard of his book, "Writing Fiction for Dummies."

Over two years later and it's still in the #1 bestselling spot on Amazon's Fiction Writing category list, with occasional brief drops to #2 for newcomers (like my book, which sits at #2 as I write this), but only for a day or so.  Then its back on top where — after reading it, I must concur — it belongs.

Randy is a really smart guy.   Great guy, too, but smart trumps cool in this business. 

He's smart not just because he has a Ph.D. from U.C. Berkeley and calls himself a "deranged physicist," not just because he blurbed my book, and not just because he's written six award-winning novels and publishes the world's largest digital writing magazine and a killer blog…

… like that's not enough to merit the badge…

… but because when he speaks, writers listen.  He earns the Really Smart Guy nametag every time it happens.

I invited Randy to join us here on Storyfix, and to respond to six top-of-mind questions that keep circling in my head, and possibly yours.

The Interview

SF: As we both acknowledge in our work, the world is flooded with writing books.  Are they all saying the same thing about "how to write a great story," or in your view is there really so much variance and imprecision in the fundamentals, as well as the creative options, that we need all these voices out there?

RANDY: I wish I could say that my way is the best way to write a novel and that all those other fiction teachers out there are mentally impoverished scoundrels, but . . . that just wouldn't be true.

There really are vastly different ways to write, and there's a good reason for that.

The purpose of fiction is to give your reader what I call a Powerful Emotional Experience.  The problem is that there are 7 billion different readers out there, and there are probably 10 or 15 fundamentally different emotive experiences.  So there are different measures of "goodness" in fiction, and therefore there are different ways to write.

I'm sure you've noticed that you hate certain books that get great reviews or that are riding high on the bestseller list.  I sure do. And there are books I love that get terrible reviews and that sell like spit.

So it really is true about there being "different strokes for different folks."

Writing fiction is hard and I don't think anyone ever really masters it.  So there is always more to learn and there are always new ways to explain how it should be done.

The short answer is:  Yes, we really do need all those other writing teachers out there, even those mentally impoverished scoundrels who (gasp!) disagree with me.

SF:  My take on those books is that most offer a narrative swing at defining both the writing process and the ultimate product.  They describe it using very grad-schoolesque aesthetic lit classstandards, soft quantifiers, qualifiers and criteria (like, a story should touch the reader's heart…), sort of like trying to teach a singer or an athlete how to develop a sensibility for their game beyond the basics.  As if you can teach "talent."  Not wrong, just hard to grasp, like telling an alien what it feels like to be in love (no formula for that one).  I think you and I are drawn to each other's work because we're among the few to offer a "model" for story development, something for the left brain to chew on while the right brain reflects on life and art and the finer points of literature.  How has your background as a technical professional served you in this regard, and what do you say to writers who accuse us of imposing a "formula" on their creativity?

RANDY: Let me say first that I absolutely love your approach to teaching the craft.  It's left-brained.  It's logical.  And you even use the word "engineering" in your title, which has to strike a chord for me, being a physicist.

I've certainly come across books on how to write fiction that just didn't click for me.  And I've been astounded to learn that the very books I thought were pedantic or dull somehow had value for some of my novelist friends.  I've been absolutely aghast to learn that one of my closest friends doesn't like Dwight Swain — the fiction teacher who first helped me see what made fiction work.

A little about my background — I'm a computational physicist.  I generally do physics by seeing in my mind the solution to the problem.  I'm very visual and if I can picture it, I know how to solve it.  That's an intuitive leap.  But then I have to convert that to a series of rational steps, so the blasted computer understands how to solve it.

So my entire working career has been this weird mix of taking my intuitive right-brained understanding of something and turning it into a left-brained process.

I guess that's why my Snowflake method always just seemed obvious to me.  It takes my right-brained mush and forms it into left-brained sense.

I don't worry much about writers who don't "get" my methods.  I don't get theirs.  I figure that if I can help some people use a process to mold their creativity, that's great.  If my methods don't help everyone, then maybe some other teacher can help them.  I get e-mail all the time from people who tell me that I've given them hope that they can write a novel.  That always makes my day.

As for the whole "formula" thing, that's a category error.  A formula is a process that leads to a predictable result.  My methods (and yours, Larry) are "design patterns" — fundamental patterns that guide us in reaching unpredictable results.  Great fiction doesn't spring from a formula, but it can be guided and honed by using design patterns.

By the way, I stole the term "design pattern" from the world of software engineering, which stole it from the world of architecture. I'm fundamentally an architect.  So are you.  We're story architects.

Architecture is a beautiful blend of science and art.  Good architects don't use formulas, they use design patterns.

SF:  Tell us about your model — the Snowflake method– and how it empowers writers.  I love it, by the way.  It would be self-serving of me to view it as a somewhat expanded, completely aligned cousin

of my own Six Core Competencies, but I can't help myself.  How do you see them as similiar, how are they different, and how can they work together?  Why do writers need what we're selling?

RANDY: I think that's why we get along so well.  We're both working with the same mental model — the Three Act Structure of a novel.  I really appreciated your book because it helped me understand that structure better.

The Snowflake method is a process I developed back in the summer of 2002 to explain roughly the steps I take to get from a vague and fuzzy idea to a well-structured first draft.  There are ten steps in this process.  The full method is explained here: http://www.AdvancedFictionWriting.com/art/snowflake.php

The reason I call it the "Snowflake method" is because it uses the same "divide and conquer" approach that works when drawing the famous "Snowflake fractal" invented by a mathematician named Helge von Koch in 1904.  You can find out about this fractal here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Koch_snowflake

The idea is to start with something simple and then keep refining it by adding detail, until you're done.  (And of course you're never done, but eventually you have to send your manuscript in.)  At every step in the process, the story is well-structured, even though it's incomplete.

The first step of the Snowflake method is to write a one-sentence summary of your novel.  This is hard work.  Anyone can write a bad one-sentence summary.  It can take up to an hour to develop a really compelling sentence that captures the essence of a novel.

This corresponds, very roughly, to your First Core Competency — the Concept.  I think that your teaching on this is complementary to mine.  You explain in detail what a good Concept is, how to refine it, and so on.  I spend a lot of time examining actual one-sentence summaries and improving them.  I insist that it has to be a single sentence, no more than 25 words.

When I teach at conferences, I often do mentoring workshops where I have 10 writers for several hours and we critique each writer's first chapter.  I always ask them to submit a one-sentence summary of their entire novel.  I find that most of them can't explain in a few words what their story is about.

And if they can't explain it, they won't be able to sell it.  So I often spend a lot of time working with each of them to hone that sentence.  Once we're done, a lot of times a writer will suddenly understand what her story is about for the very first time.  Or she'll have new insights into directions the story can go.  Or she'll know which parts don't fit the story.  It's like magic.

My Snowflake method asks the writer to alternate between developing the plot and developing the characters.  Plot and Character grow up together as you work through the Snowflake.  When you've worked through the first nine steps, you're ready to write your first draft, which is the tenth and final step.  It will automatically be a well-structured first draft.

One difference in the Snowflake and your framework is that I don't teach much on Theme.  That's your Third Core Competency, and it's important, but I like to leave that for last.  I always worry that if the writer is consciously focusing up front on the Theme, they're going to turn it into a heavy-handed allegory.  So I ask writers to think about Theme last, after the story is mostly developed.

Theme is important.  But I've seen novels that were basically sermons in story form, and that's just too disgusting for words.

I think one thing that you and I agree on is that the first draft can be very close to the last draft.  If you plan your story right, it'll come out the way it should.  No need to go back and slice it and dice it to get it to make sense.  Yes, you always have to edit for grammar, spelling, punctuation, word usage, tone, rhythm, and all that.  But that's just sanding the edges.

We also agree that seat-of-the-pants writers are not immoral, wicked people.  They're not wired to plan things up front, and that's OK. But they're not off the hook when it comes to story structure.  They still need to have a novel that "gets the story physics right" as you say.  They just have to do that after the first draft is written, and not before.

Come back in two days for Part 2 of this interview with Randy Ingermanson.

Randy earned a Ph.D. in physics at U.C. Berkeley and is the award-winning author of six novels and one non-fiction book. He writes about "The Intersection of Faith Avenue and Science Boulevard."

Randy publishes the world's largest electronic magazine on the craft of writing fiction, the FREE monthly Advanced Fiction Writing E-zine. His ultimate goal is to become Supreme Dictator for Life and First Tiger and to achieve Total World Domination.

Oh yeah, there's that writing book, too.

 

 

 

Interview With a Superstar Writing Mentor — Randy Ingermanson is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Monday Musings and Mundane Morning Munchies

My First Video Interview

This is pretty cool.  My friend Joanna Penn, who runs The Creative Penn (a Top-1o writing website), has created a video in which she interviews me about my new book, the pain of writing (it's optional), what's formulaic and what's not, and some other cool stuff.  

Including my gesticulating too much with my hands (I tend to rant when I get excited, just like here on Storyfix), making the image look like it was shot on a ride at Universal Studios.  At least at first.  We used Skype… that metal thingie in the background belong to my guest bed, which is in my office.  Or maybe it's the other way around.

The video is about 30 minutes long, and amounts to a mini-workshop. 

You can see it, and how little hair I have left, by clicking HERE.

I'll be posting the video on Storyfix in a few days, too, and Joanna  has alread posted it on Youtube , as well.

My First Affiliate Product Offering

Here's an little announcement: I'm working on converting my backlist into ebooks for distribution on Kindle and ePub.  I'm finding it's a little like learning to fly the Space Shuttle, to be honest, which is a humbling confession in the face of how many authors are already online with this strategy.

I needed help.  So I shopped. 

And I came across the perfect solution, an A t0 Z guide to getting it done, understanding the techno-babble and finding resources to do that which was (and remains) beyond my meager techno-abilities.  I found this at the same site mentioned above — The Creative Penn — and immediately fell in love with this mini-workshop.

Considering an ebook for serious distribution?  Then you need this course.  I know I sure did.

I like it so much that I've signed on as an affiliate.  If you're as baffled by the prospect of getting your work onto Kindle as I was (don't kid yourself, there's nothing easy about it), and you'd love to find a single source guide to parting the curtain, then I highly recommending this course.  It's only $39.95, and well worth every dime.

You can read more about it — and order it, by clicking on the image below.

A guest post on WritetoDone.com.

Rumor has it I'll have one running concurrent with today's post (Monday, March 28).  If not, then soon.  Hope you'll check it out.

And now for a little fun.

Do you know what a paraproskokain is?  Me neither.

At least until my buddy Mike Williamsen clued me in.

A paraprosdokian is a figure of speech in which the latter part of a sentence or phrase is surprising or unexpected in a way that causes the reader or listener to reframe or reinterpret the first part. It is frequently used for humorous or dramatic effect.

– I asked God for a bike, but I know God doesn't work that way. So I stole a bike and asked for forgiveness.

– Do not argue with an idiot.  He will drag you down to his level and beat you with experience.

– I want to die peacefully in my sleep, like my grandfather. Not screaming and yelling like the passengers in his car.

– Going to church doesn't make you a Christian any more than standing in a garage makes you a car.

– The last thing I want to do is hurt you. But it's still on the list.

– Light travels faster than sound. This is why some people appear bright until you hear them speak.

– If I agreed with you, we'd both be wrong.

– We never really grow up; we only learn how to act in public.

– War does not determine who is right — only who is left.

– Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit; wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.

– The early bird might get the worm, but the second mouse gets the cheese.

– Evening news is where they begin with 'Good evening,' and then proceed to tell you why it isn't.

– To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism. To steal from many is research.

– A bus station is where a bus stops. A railway station is where a train stops. My desk is a work station.

– How is it one careless match can start a forest fire, but it takes a whole box to start a campfire?

– Dolphins are so smart that within a few weeks of captivity, they can train people to stand on the very edge of the pool and throw them fish.

– I thought I wanted a career; turns out I just wanted pay checks.

– A bank is a place that will lend you money if you can prove that you don't need it.

– Whenever I fill out an application, in the part that says "If an emergency, notify:" I put "DOCTOR."

– I didn't say it was your fault, I said I was blaming you.

– Why does someone believe you when you say there are four billion stars, but check when you say the paint is wet?

– Behind every successful man is his woman. Behind the fall of a successful man is usually another woman.

– A clear conscience is usually the sign of a bad memory.

– You do not need a parachute to skydive. You only need a parachute to skydive more than once.

– The voices in my head may not be real, but they have some good ideas!

– Always borrow money from a pessimist.  He won't expect it back.

– A diplomat is someone who can tell you to go to hell in such a way that you will look forward to the trip.

– Hospitality:  making your guests feel like they're at home, even if you wish they were.

– Money can't buy happiness, but it sure makes misery easier to live with.

– I discovered I scream the same way whether I'm about to be devoured by a great white shark or if a piece of seaweed touches my foot.

– Some cause happiness wherever they go. Others whenever they go.

– There's a fine line between cuddling and holding someone down so they can't get away.

– I used to be indecisive. Now I'm not sure.

– I always take life with a grain of salt… plus a slice of lime… and a shot of tequila.

– When tempted to fight fire with fire, remember that the Fire Department usually uses water.

– You're never too old to learn something stupid.

– To be sure of hitting the target, shoot first and call whatever you hit the target.

– Nostalgia isn't what it used to be.

– A bus is a vehicle that runs twice as fast when you are after it as when you are in it.

– Change is inevitable, except from a vending machine.

Next up: An interview with Master Writing Oracle Randy Ingermanson .  Who, if you click on his name as a preview, just interviewed me.  His book, "Writing Fiction For Dummies," is already a modern classic on storytelling craft.

Please check out my new book, "Story Engineering: Mastering The Six Core Competencies of Successful Writing."  You can read the 11 reviews (and counting) at Amazon.com (10 raves and one fuddy-duddy).  You can also read reviews HERE, HERE, HERE and HERE.  And HERE and HERE. Thanks for considering.

Monday Musings and Mundane Morning Munchies is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Six Core Analogies for the Six Core Competencies

We get stuff stuck in our heads.  One way to get the wrong stuff unstuck and the right stuff successfully installed is to experience the learning – the truth – in different ways.

Some refer to these different ways as learning styles.  Cognitive.  Kinesthetic.  Active.  Inactive.  Two-by-four to the skull.

It's all good if it gets the right stuff into the proper brain cells.

When it comes to writing, we must acknowledge we are dealing with some abstract, fluid and frankly cloudy issues which sometimes elude us.  Contradictory opinion makes this landscape even more nefarious, like trying to land an airplane in a fog bank during an earthquake with no fuel and no landing gear.

Even when we see it on the page, sometimes we aren't quite sure what just happened.

As writers seeking to be successful, we must be sure.

That's why I use so many analogies as I preach the gospel of the Six Core Competencies.  I describe my approach as a left-brained attack on a right-brained avocation, though I am quite certain a successful story draws equally from both hemispheres.

Here, then, are some analogies, one for each core competency, that might help the hemispheres of your brain collide and make magic.

Concept

An idea is a seed.  An idea is rarely a vetted, viable concept.

A ghost story about doctors.  That's not a concept, it's a seed, the germ of an idea.

A ghost story about a deceased doctor who keeps showing up in an inner city ER to save patients without insurance… that's a concept.  An idea with legs.  An open door to the consideration of the other core competencies, which the seed alone doesn't provide.

Seeds come in all sizes and shapes and purposes.  But without planting, without nourishment and watering, they are nothing more than little buds with no story to tell.

Unless you're making a salad, the seed is never the end-game. 

Sometimes we aren't sure what seed we hold in our hand.  So we plant it, nourish it, and soon it begins to show itself for what it is.  What it should become.  In which case, you may need to transplant it from a pot to a yard, because the thing was an oak instead of a tulip all along.

If you stare at the seed long enough, you begin to ask it questions.  Who are you?  What can you do?  And then, when you ask the right questions, those inspired by the literary license to transform any seed in the world to any plant/story species in the world – which we have as writers, by the way – the questions change.

You play with the seed until the questions – the what if? questions – begin to possess you.  When one of them quickens your pulse, you know your seed has just become a concept.

Character

Two words: Charlie Sheen.

Love him or hate him, there's no arguing he's complicated.  Maybe a little sick.  Possibly as brilliant as he claims to be.  Certainly contrary to much of what we hold as heroic.  Inarguably multi-dimensional.

So is he the hero or the antagonist?  Too early to tell.  A plot twist may be coming.

He has a backstory.  He has character arc.   And – if you've been paying attention – he has an entire detox-center full of inner demons.

All of which he denies.  He is a case study in truth or dare, truth or consequences, true grit versus truly pathetic.

He shows us three dimensions of demonstrated character.  The guy on television, the character written for him, the man the show dictates must appear in that role.

The guy whose bluster is transparent and his fear palpable.

The guy we can relate to, or at least in this instance empathize with, because he has children he loves that a court of law says he can't see.  He is a walking poster boy of sub-text.

The ending isn't written yet, and the ending is where true, third-dimension character emerges.

The character is never the story.  The character is our window into the story.  There's a funky guy in Albuquerque suing his employer, too, but we don't care.  It's the character that draws is in, and it's what happens to the character that provides the stage for us to see who he is.

Theme

It's Sunday.  You go to church with a heavy heart. 

The preacher opens with a story about his recent fishing trip.  About the ride out to the lake.  About the new gear in the back of the SUV.  About the stunning sunrise and the reflection of the mountains on a smooth glass of morning water.

About his complex relationship with the fish.

He cites scripture about becoming "fishers of men."  

And you leave… clueless.  You have no idea what that fishing trip has to do with you, with life, or with scripture.

You just experienced a story without theme.  Without meaning and relevance.

Entertaining and interesting… yes.  The guy tells a great story. 

But it's not what you came for.  The preacher was into it, passionate about it, and wanted to share it.  But it was about him, not you.  He wrote that sermon for himself, even though he believed others might get something from it.

You didn't.  As a sermon, as it was written and presented, it was empty.  Void of meaning.  And you'll forget it by next Sunday.  In which case, you just might try another church altogether.

The story has to pierce the heart of the reader.  A great story is always entertaining… and always relevant to life on a personal level… for the reader.

Structure/Plot

Let's talk about sex.  About love making.  Romance.  Stage setting.  Foreplay.

Sex has structure to it.  Oh yes it does.  All the stuff you can think of that seems to defy structure in sexuality is really from, analogously, what would be the other five core competencies.  But when it comes to what happens when — not how – in what order and why, which is the essence of structure, things go down pretty much same for everybody.

And if you doubt that, when was the last time you began your love making with an orgasm and ended it by undressing your partner and pouring a glass of wine?

This is true even if you're in the room alone.

And it's especially true if you want to turn professional, which is another story altogether. 

Just sayin'.  That's how you discover structure in storytelling… by looking beneath and beyond the concept and characters and theme and the inherent creative lattitude of storytelling and really comprehend the sequence of the story's architecture.

Known fact: with sex, going too fast too soon doesn't usually work.  Neither does going in the wrong direction, or – horror of horrors – screwing up the ending.  Satisfaction is at the heart of the implied contract between consenting participants.

The most powerful thing about love making is a sense of anticipation.  Of exploring sexual tension and expressing feelings.  The give and take.  The mystery and fascination.  The complete and total confidence and thrill that comes with submission and/or taking charge. 

If one party just lies there, the story isn't a good one.

Some like it edgy, some prefer it safe.  It's always a dance, never a solo.  At least when it's good.

You understand the genre of what you're about to do before you light the candles.  If you're both on that particular page, then limits expand.  But woe to the lover who brings out the wet suit when the partner wants to stay on dry land.

It's organic and natural, but it's not.  You can play, but you dare not stray from the expected lane, even if you challenge it which can be fun if the swerve is mutual.  If you turn on Letterman in the middle of the story, you'll lose your audience. 

The night has phases, and you know not to mess with them.  The dinner out.  The candles and music.  The dress code.  The limitations.  The context of the past (as in, make-up sex versus stranger sex versus first-time sex, versus agenda sex, etc.).  The passion of the present.  The learning curve and the open door.

You don't make love between the salad and the entre.

It's a sequence that never changes.  Even so, it has limited creative options and opportunities.

It's all about the foreplay. The set-up.  The ying and the yang.  Don't write a story without them.

You know how it ends before you begin.  Getting there is the real story.

Which, if you know what you're doing, you time and execute perfectly.

Scene Execution

It's time to drop to one knee and propose.  You pick the day.  The spot.  You buy the perfect ring.  And now you have some choices to make.  Because there are lots of ways to pull this off.

But because it's so important, it has to be perfect.  You could do it easy, impulsively, off the top of your head (that's for you, pantsers), what feels good in the moment… or you can plan it, in context to what you know about your story, so it's perfect.

This scene has a succinctly defined mission, as all scenes should.  You know precisely what needs to be put into play. The mannin in which it changes the story going forward.  Now it's a question of how to make it happen.

A proposal – just like a scene in a story – always happens in context to a past and a future.  How you got there matters.  What you do to prepare matters.  What happens next matters even more. 

What you know about your story, and your intended, also matters – you're not going to shower flowers on someone who is allergic to pollen, and you're not going to propose via text to a hopeless romantic.

Your creative choices don't just forward the plot, they matter to all five of the other core competencies.  Just as much as the mission of the scene matters.  But no more or no less.  Because it will become part of your story.  It will forward it, energize it.

Writing Voice

You're a talent scout for a major record company.  You used to be a book editor, but this pays more.  Someone recommends a local band, so you drive to Walla Walla to sit in on their gig at Monty's Grill and Karaoke Bar.

The band is solid.  They write their own stuff, and it's got edge.  Chicago meets Muse, with a dash of Jay-Z.  Not your typical garage fare.  The drummer is better than a lot of your contracted acts.  The guitars are tasty, too, ready for radio. 

But that singer… ouch.  Not that he/she is off tune, just… boring.  Nondescript.  High school talent show 101. 

Thing is, he/she is the founder of the band.  He/she is the band.  As in a story, there's no separating the singer from the band.  The singer defines the band.

And so you pass.  The music is great, but the voice… not so much.  It won't compete at a professional level.

Not that you need the next Daughtry or Josh Groban.  You should be so lucky.  A lot of bands do well with so-so singers, but the voice must at least compete.  This singer doesn't have the chops, despite the killer songwriting.

It's all about the story… until the voice detracts from it.  In that case it's a deal killer.

Any light bulbs going off out there?  Hope so.

Larry Brooks is the author of "Story Engineering: Mastering the Six Core Competencies of Successful Writing," just out from Writers Digest Books, and has spent much of the four weeks since its release as the #1 bestselling fiction writing book on Amazon.com.

Special offer: if you forward a receipt to (storyfixer@gmail.com) for an online purchase of the book (or not, I trust you) dated between today and the end of the month I'll send you my ebook, "101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters" for free.  Just say "Storyfix sent me" in the subject line (or not) and the deal is yours.

And if you bought the book earlier, you have my sincere thanks, but not the free ebook.  Gotta get the rest of the gang off the procrastinating dime here.  My hope is that, having read it, you already feel like you've received more than your money's worth.

Six Core Analogies for the Six Core Competencies is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Top Ten Tuesdays — Please Welcome Therese Walsh of Writerunboxed.com

Welcome to  Top Ten Tuesdays, a series of guest blogs by winners of the "Top Ten Blogs for Writers" contest hosted at Writetodone.com. 

Can Editing Be Fun? Maybe.

a guest post by Therese Walsh

First, I want to thank Larry for having me today on his fab site. It's great to be here!

When I asked Larry what he might like for me to blog about, he gave me a few ideas. He knew I'd just turned a completed manuscript over to my editor and was waiting for the first round of notes and edits. Could I speak to the editing process? I thought about it; what did I have to offer here that might be fresh? And what I came back to is something Larry said: "I know in my experience this is the toughest stuff. The writing is bliss, the editing is WORK."

You might think this crazy, but for me, editing is…fun. I have the harder time getting ideas onto the page to begin with. I toil over concepts, the timing of reveals, characterizations and descriptions and most especially the wording of my sentences (8,302 of them in my work-in-progress; I just counted).

Something happens to me, though, after I hit that final period in my draft—the end. I turn from fretful writer to dispassionate editor.

How? Why? And fun? Am I crazy?

Introducing Write Brain, Left Brain

When I complete a draft, the writer-me is exhausted and desperate for a break. But the part of me I've been suppressing—the manager who's kept a mental tally of better ideas—is eager to have a turn. Some would say that the right hemisphere of the brain—the side that's credited with our creative functioning—has just passed the baton to the left hemisphere—the more analytical part.

Bear with me as I ask you to envision these hemispheres as if they are real people. Right Brain is the artist—a little disheveled with a smudge of blue paint on her cheek and a half-dead daisy tucked behind her ear. Her long skirt is fringed with tiny bells. Left Brain is all business. Power suit. Flats. She carries a hatchet in one hand and a red pen in the other. Her smile is a little evil.

You can't blame easy-going, love-my-bells Right Brain for hesitating to pass her work over to hatchet-happy, evil-smiling Left Brain, can you? But she's exhausted, she needs a break, and Left Brain is there, waiting…

The Steps to Editing Acceptance

Feeling resistance to editing your work is completely normal. You've labored over your story for months, maybe years (six years for my debut!). You don't want to change anything. You don't feel you need to change anything. Or maybe you just don't feel it's fair you should have to change anything. All normal. But you also know that writers who don't edit their work usually remain unpublished, so you're going to do it. Here's how to make the process a little easier for you and Right Brain, and even (gasp) fun.

1.     Create a safety net. Open the file containing your work-in-progress and use the "save as" function to give it a new name. You should now have two files—the original and this new one. Right Brain is content knowing that Left Brain can go hatchet crazy on a copy of the manuscript that isn't hers.

2.     Make friends with the red pen. Not everyone may have this experience, but I find that I become a different sort of writer when I have a pen in hand. I adore the loops and arrows, the circles and splatter marks I make with a red pen on white paper. And I sense Right Brain's approval of Left Brain's unexpected creative streak. She relaxes a little; maybe Left Brain isn't so evil after all.

3.     Start big. Right Brain's anxiety doesn't spike until you start messing with her words. She's way less likely to freak on you if you move blocks of text around and delete nothing. If you have structural changes you'd like to make, do that first. Color code the moved blocks, too. It'll help Left Brain keep everything in order, and the rainbow shades make Right Brain coo.

4.     Attack the sentences. Right Brain hates this part. Left Brain's hatchet is out, she is slaying words, sentences, and full paragraphs, leaving them to die their red-ink deaths all over your carpet. Don't delete-delete these sections. Tell Right Brain that you're putting them on probation instead. If you use Word, you can use the comment function here. Cut-paste your deleted text into that comment box, and move on knowing all is not lost—just in case Left Brain doesn't know what she's talking about.

5.     Acknowledge smart changes. Once rearrangements have been made, once blocks of text have been deleted and new words added, Right Brain will get it. The rework is better than her original. Maybe not all of it. But most of it is an improvement. She accepts that editing is necessary, even…awesome.

6.     Observe a moment of silence. Right Brain is never going to be entirely happy about the dead darlings on the office floor, but she can keep their literary carcasses around if she'd like—in a separate file. And you can always do what I did and share one of them on your Facebook page, to give a prize darling a moment in the spotlight.

Ready for the Big Time

Best thing about learning how to love editing? When your actual editor comes back to you with her Left-Brain list of things to consider and change, your Right Brain Writer Self will recognize the process. There's no evil here, only the desire by all brains involved to create the best product possible. And you will survive it. You will.

Do you love editing, or hate it? Have any tips or tricks you'd like to share? The floor is yours.

Write on!

Top-10 blogger Therese Walsh operates WriterUnboxed , a great resource about the craft and business of fiction.  She is also the author of a well-reviewed book, The Last Will of Moira Leahy: A Novel , which was a finalist for the 2010 RITA Award for Best First Novel.  She can be reached through her blog site, or at her author website .

Top Ten Tuesdays — Please Welcome Therese Walsh of Writerunboxed.com is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

A Few Great Writing Blogs You Should Check Out. A Few Great Reviews You'll Find There.

A Few Cool New People in Your Writing Life, Too.

First off… please check out my guest post today on Victoria Mixon's great SITE.  More tough talking truth that will either set your free or piss you off.  Both can be good for the writer in growth mode.

If you didn't catch it, Victoria blessed us earlier this week with an incredible post contrasting the approach and writing mindset between professionals and, well, someone who is not yet a professional.  Just scroll down to see it, or click HERE. 

A little karmic ying-for-yang today.

If you've ever published a book… when you publish your book… you're going to relate to where I am these days.  Maybe you'd handle it differently, maybe not.

As most of you know, I have a new book out: "Story Engineering: Mastering the Six Core Competencies of Successful Writing," from Writers Digest Books.

So far, so good.  It's spent much of the past three weeks as the #1 bestseller on Amazon's fiction craft books list (until they switched me into a larger category, leaving the Kindle version back on the first list… an example of the behind-the-scenes machinations of publishers that never seem to get adequately explained).

The initial reviews are… wonderful.  Humbling.  Encouraging.

I'm hoping you'll pay attention, and tell your writer friends what they say.

And of course, if you haven't already, I'm hoping you'll give my book a shot.

I've tweeted it.  I've pimped it on Facebook, perhaps the most over-rated "networking" venue ever invented; great for friending, sucks as a selling strategy.  Like your neighbor's kid trying to sell you cookies.

And yet, I'm a bit sheepish about simply publishing the reviews here as a blatant promotional strategy.    

But I'm gonna do just that. 

Sort of.  I'm going to refer you to the websites of the reviewers themselves.

And therein resides the win-win, quid pro quo of it all. 

Because these are folks you should be reading.  Their blogs are stellar, their own books are first-rate, and – gotta be honest – this strategy allows me to rationalize the inward-facing agenda of it all: we all get something here.

A little tip: most of these sites are running a little promo that can get you a free ebook from me ("101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters").  Even if the so-called deadline has passed, I'll honor the offer.

Introducing bestselling novelist Kay Kenyon

Kay is a complete and often-proven professional, with ten well-reviewed novels under her belt in the science fiction genre.  She also runs a great website called Writing the World, about the writing life and process.

A couple of her posts (among many stellar windows into her wisdom) to whet your Kay Kenyon appetite:

Learning the biz (March 6)

Scare of the Week (what not to worry about) (Feb 22)

Tell her Larry sent you. 

She's just posted a rave review of "Story Engineering" – read it HERE.

Introducing Randy Ingermanson

Randy is nothing short of a superstar in the galaxy of those writing about writing.  He is the author of the iconic bestseller, "Writing Fiction for Dummies," which, if you haven't heard of it… well, then you haven't been looking.  He is also known for his brilliant "snowflake" story development model, one of the clearest and most popular of such theories on the planet.

His website and newsletter, Advanced Fiction Writing, has more subscribers than most major magazines and a few good-sized cities, and for good reason.

Read his interview with the author of "Story Engineering" (which he blurbs on the inside cover page) HERE.

Introducing Jennifer of Procrastinating Writers

Jennifer is one of my favorite writing bloggers.  She writes from the inside of the learning curve, as well as from a deep place within the heart, which lends her work a supportive, empathetic context as she explores and shares the journey toward publication.

Read her enthusiastic review of "Story Engineering" (her title: "The Last Book On Writing You'll Ever Have to Buy") by clicking HERE.

Introducing Suzannah of Writeitsideways.com

This website is all about craft, which is why we share a lot of overlapping and enthusiastic readership.  Never a dull or negative moment here, yet she pulls no punches about what it takes to write a great story.

Read her "Story Engineering" review HERE

Introducing Patti Stafford

Like Jennifer and Suzannah, Patti is a major voice for the writing community when it comes to process and the marketplace.  A great blog by a very knowledgeable writer.

Read her review of the book HERE.

Introducing Ollin Morales

One of my favorite people on the internet.   Young, smart, sensitive, a wonderful writer.  His blog is kicking butt and getting better with every post.

His review of the book will appear next Monday.  Check for it HERE.   He tells me it's good… so I believe.

Meet Chuck Hustmyre

Okay, this is a little different.  Chuck is a loyal Storyfix reader and a successful author, one who is living the dream in a way few of us will ever know (which, to date, includes me): they've made a movie out of one of his novels.

He hasn't reviewed my book.  Yet. 

The DVD of "House of the Rising Sun" releases from Lionsgate on July one.  It's a big time thriller, and you can watch the preview HERE.  Fair warning though – it contains nudity, violence and profanity, so click through to this at your own choice and peril.

My kind of story.  Then again, so was 500 Days of Summer and Bambi, so go figure.

Introducing Amazon.com, and the wonderful blurbs and reviews posted there.

A little outfit operating out of Seattle.  Some of you may have heard of them.

Here you'll find blurbs by a few famous names in the writing world (Terry Brooks, Christopher Vogler, Chelsea Cain, Michael Hague and Randy Intermanson), and (at this writing) 7 more reviews, 6 with five stars (out of five), one with four.  See it all HERE.

And, by the way, you can buy it there, too (here for the Kindle version).  The book is available at some bookstores (editorial comment: the ones with any sense), and it if isn't there they can order it for you.

Thanks for reading this far, and for clicking through to these sites.

Your writing world is about to expand.  Both in terms of these blogs and the cute little book they are recommending. 

If you'd like to weigh in with a comment about the book, I'm starting a log of reader feedback, as well as a page for the next batch of reviews.  Feel free to contribute, on your site or elswhere.  No rules or expectations.  Thanks for your support.  L.

 

A Few Great Writing Blogs You Should Check Out. A Few Great Reviews You'll Find There. is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Top Ten Tuesdays: Please Welcome Victoria Mixon

Welcome to  Top Ten Tuesdays, a series of guest blogs by winners of the "Top Ten Blogs for Writers" contest hosted at Writetodone.com. 

Victoria Mixon is a seasoned professional with advice we need to hear, expertise we need to access and hope we need to internalize.  She also has a book out there, well worth the time and money.

Her words to us today are pure gold.  I recommend we all read this several times and then post it on our bathroom mirror.

It's that freaking good.

The Bootstrapping Writer—The Secret at the Core of Competency

by Storyfix guest blogger Victoria Mixon

 

Writing is about growing up.

That's the single most helpful thing I can tell you about this work.

Because after you've spent your years developing your craft, and you've read the right books (mine and Larry's), taken the right advice and rewritten your manuscript, edited it with your editor, built your author platform, established your credibility, and even survived the endless process of querying, waiting, signing with an agent, waiting, getting a publisher and going through production, waiting more, and finally, finally launching your promotion and book tour for the first of all the books you will eventually write in your career. . .you still have something to learn.

How to do it all as a professional.

This is the crucial difference, the delta abyss, the secret at the core of competence. And it makes or breaks all publishing writers.

Writing

Amateur

The amateur aspiring writer approaches the writing, as Roz Morris once mentioned, as therapy. They don't treat it as a craft to learn or an art to master so it can be shared with an audience. It's just their own guts lying out there on the dissecting table, writhing painfully and trying to crawl back into the shadows, away from the light.

Professional

The professional aspiring writer approaches the writing as a craft, a complex, challenging set of skills they must develop as fully as humanly possible in the short lifespan they've been allotted, in the context of art—that extraordinary impulse to put into words aspects of life that have never been given words before.

There is no more beautiful description of this than the maga-editor Diana Athill's description of Jean Rhys (that most self-indulgent of artistic victims):

As soon as we began [editing] she became a different person, her face stern, her eyes hooded, her concentration intense. . .This seemed to give me a clear glimpse of the central mystery of Jean Rhys: the existence within a person so incompetent and so given to muddle and disaster—even to destruction—of an artist as strong as steel.

Reading about Writing

Amateur

The amateur approaches books on writing as secret codes to stardom, assuming that if they speed-read all of them they will, at some point, be transformed through sheer determination into published authors or at least published authors' best friends. The discrepancies in advice confuse and infuriate them. It does not occur to them that a lot of it is simply bad.

Professional

The professional approaches books on writing as illumination of a craft for which they have already begun to lay a foundation. They're alert to similarities in different writers' ways of giving the same advice. They're mentally cataloging the intricacies of each aspect of the craft as they find them elaborated upon in different directions.

And they're especially sensitive to the undercurrent of each writer's agenda: is this writer interested in teaching others the amazing, endless depths of this work we love? or are they only interested in selling their own book by making promises they can't possibly fulfill?

They learn to recognize bad advice by comparing it to great novels they love. And eventually the professional finds themself nodding in recognition rather than scratching their head in puzzlement. Books on writing become validation as much as enlightenment. That's a brilliant way to put what I already knew.

Rewriting

Amateur

The amateur approaches rewriting as a final gloss over a first draft cast in stone. Yes, they expected to need their punctuation corrected. What they did not expect was to learn a first draft is mostly research, background notes on these characters, this fictional world, that will eventually have to be written up as carefully planned and organized scenes structured around a central premise.

Professional

The professional approaches rewriting as the real work. Many of them don't bother with that overarching first draft. They structure first, write second. They know just plowing through a manuscript without any idea where it's going or what it means is a recipe for disaster, or at least for a whole lot of stuff to keep in folders of NOTES.

Editing

Amateur

The amateur treats editing as a sullying of their artistic vision. They don't necessarily know what art is or what their personal perspective on life has to do with it, but they are certain it's not supposed to be tampered with. They worry about losing their 'voice' or the 'life' of the words. These innocents do not expect to need editing, either by their publisher (they're in luck with that nowadays, anyway) or, worse, by a hired lackey. They expect their writing to breathe.

Professional

The professional treats the objective eyes of experienced professional editors as manna from heaven.

"Thank god you knew what to do about that!" they say in abject gratitude. "I was ready to burn the whole damn thing."

The professional knows perfectly well the words on the first-draft page could have been put there by typewriting monkeys. They know it's necessary to grease the wheels, but they don't necessarily want to recycle the grease.

They want help shaping it into the catapult that's going to fling their reader exactly where they want a reader flung.

Building a Platform

Amateur

The amateur throws themself on the mercy of the blogosphere in a panic to score. Numbers! More numbers! Higher numbers! Infinite numbers! They do not see building an author platform as firming the ground upon which to stand forever, but as a paint-by-the-numbers project that, they hope against hope, will result in them making a grand sale of the Mona Lisa.

Professional

The professional uses the tools at hand—and in this era, those tools are very powerful, very grassroots, very free indeed—to let their audience know where they are. They're not shilling for the publishing industry. They're offering what they have so readers know they have it to give. All else unfolds from there.

Establishing Credibility

Amateur

The amateur thinks establishing credibility (thank you for that emphasis, Larry!) is simply getting lots of people to point at you. They forget that sometimes people point to laugh.

Professional

The professional knows what their credibility is based on and what they have yet to add to that base. They research. They study. They learn. They earn their keep. And when it comes time to draw on that credibility, they sometimes take a certain maverick delight in never being stumped because they truly are the expert in their field they need to be.

Querying

Amateur

The amateur doesn't query so much as shut their eyes tight, cross their fingers, and fling a handful of overworked words into the void in hopes they will fall into the hands of someone tender-hearted, desperate, and well-connected enough to use them. These people are usually devastated and occasionally incensed when this does not result in lucrative contracts.

Professional

The professional approaches querying as an exacting branch of the writing world—rather like journalism—that requires the writer to follow certain parameters established to ease the processing of zillions of handfuls of overworked words. The professional learns these parameters and develops a certain flair with this particular exacting niche. It's all part of the job.

Then they do the real work, which is developing professional contacts in a way that showcases their integrity and responsibility and understanding of the hard work being undertaken by everyone in the field.

Waiting

Amateur

The amateur throws themself into waiting as if at the doors to a mental institution. The minute their queries are sent, they begin the pacing and chafing of hands, the lip-biting and compulsive blinking and, eventually, deep-chest growling. This goes on until either they wake up and realize they're not the only pacing amateur in the world or their loved ones sign on the dotted line.

Professional

The professional knows waiting is part of the game—a big part of it. Yes, it's nerve-wracking to sit around watching a pot boil. So they don't. They get on with other projects, they kiss their sweetums, they take off their shoes and walk barefoot in the yard waving their arms in the sunshine or rain. They look around and remind themself, That was the imaginary part of my time on this planet. This is the real part.

Touring

Amateur

The amateur can't wait to be sent on book tour and, in pretty quick order, can't wait to get home again. They launch into the first reading in the slow, sonorous voice they imagine would have come out of Edith Wharton (if they'd ever met her) and they're certain actually does come out of J.K. Rowling. By the end of the second page they're flying through words they know by heart so fast the audience can't understand what they're saying. It stops being fun. It starts being work.

They get cranky.

Professional

The professional is appropriately grateful if their publisher even agrees to foot the bill for a book tour and plans for it the way they planned to learn writing, to learn queries, to wait. They rest up and make sure their schedule includes enough downtime to keep them alive for the duration. They organize the necessary travel and bookstore information so they'll have it on hand when they need it. They let friends know they'll be getting unexpected peevish calls of exhaustion and frustration from a whiny voice who will forget to identify themself. They promise their loved ones to go back to normal eventually.

Then they pull themself up by the bootstraps and remind themself that this audience—these readers—are the people paying their mortgage out of the sheer kindness of their hearts. Every single one of them deserves the respect of good breeding. The professional is the one bringing them that good breeding.

Living

Amateur

Finally, the amateur thinks writing is going to fix their life. They convince themself (with a little help from the current state of the sales-hysterical contemporary publishing industry) that fame and fortune lie in wait just around the corner, if they can only snatch it out of the hands of the next guy in line quick enough.

And when this fails to be the case, they crumble—and all the vitriol and bitterness and gall they hoped writing would stave off forever sweeps them like a flashflood off their feet and into the Hell of the Disgruntled, where they spend the rest of their days griping about what might have been.

Professional

The professional knows they don't live because they write, they write because they live.

They do both with all the passion they can muster. But mostly they live.

A. Victoria Mixon is a professional writer and independent editor with over thirty years' experience in both fiction and nonfiction. She is the coauthor of Children and the Internet: A Zen Guide for Parents and Educators and author of The Art & Craft of Fiction: A Practitioner's Manual. She can be reached through her blog , her editorial services , and Twitter .

(Larry's comment: gang.  It really is that good.)

Top Ten Tuesdays: Please Welcome Victoria Mixon is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com

Writing Analogy, Part 2: How To Cook Up A Tasty Story That Satisfies and Nourishes

Or not.  Sometimes a little junk food is just the ticket. 

When I began this journey as a writing teacher and now a blogger, and finally as the author of what has been for the last three weeks the #1 bestselling fiction writing book on Amazon.com (if you'll pardon the plug), I had more than a few things to learn. 

About the craft, and about myself.

I certainly knew that there were a variety of ways to approach the writing of a story.  And while I still think its nuts, I realize that some writers still cling to their old Olivetti or even a manual typewriter.

Whatever… that's more about process than product, anyway.  Which is precisely what I finally came to realize. 

In my initial advocacy for pre-draft story planning, I met with immediate and vocal resistance. Enthusiastic vitriol.  Almost death-threat-like in nature.  Blind rage.  Abuse.  Dismissal.  Belittlement. 

Name-calling ensued.

It felt like I was back in high school, but that's another backstory.

Another blogger recently told me that it appears I've softened my stance on the process known as pantsing, or seat-of-the-pants story development.

Maybe.  The truth is, I've evolved it, and the result has quieted the hostile masses while giving me a new focus… one that isn't going to get me lynched by an angry mob of Olivetti-pounding pantsers at the next writing conference..

My experience as a target inspired a new view. 

I now advocate a kinder, gentler endorsement of story planning, with an empathetic hug of encouragement to those who claim they just can't do it.

I no longer believe that pantsing can't work.  It certainly can.  But there's an asterisk next to both categories, the meaning of which is the empowering thing that every writer needs to understand.

It isn't how you write.  It's what you know about storytelling.

For those who claim that story planning just doesn't work, that it robs the process of spontaneity and fun, to you I say… you couldn't be more wrong.  At least as a bottom-line absolute that applies to all.  Any more than some jerk writing teacher claiming that pantsing just doesn't work… that couldn't be more wrong, either.

But here's the deal.  The difference is less about the end product than it is about intention.

Planners plan because they know what a story must have in it (generically, as structural milestones and qualitative, mission-driven criteria)… where those things must appear… and how they must work qualitatively. 

It's like taking a flight from your city to, say, Johannesburg.  Which, by the way, usually involves a flight plan to ensure you don't end up refueling in, say, Afghanistan.  Sure you're going to have to change planes along the way.  And sure you can wait until you get to London to decide which flight to take next. 

Crazy?  Not if you're in it for the adventure.

But does that really make sense in a pursuit that is more about outcome than process, which is the case with a trip to Johannesburg (and, by the way, with writing for publication)?  Or… are you good enough to fly your own airplane and chart your course as you go?

Planning a story versus pantsing a story is no different. 

For the latter to work, you either need to be an ace pilot who owns a metaphoric literary jet (your talent), or have a lot of room on your credit card for fuel and about a month to get there.

A huge majority of pantsers write that way because they don't know better.  Or enough.  They've either never tried story planning (because it's freaking hard), or they don't know what to plan.

And for those who believe they do know how a story works and they still prefer this process… well, you're the reason I re-examined my position on this issue. 

But you are few and far between.  Writers like Stephen King, the Grand Pubah of proud pantsers, own a fleet of literary jets, and they're all full of creative fuel.

Imparting that empowering knowledge to both planners and pantsers is at the heart of everything I believe and write about.

The more you know, the more likely you'll be to plan at least some of your story. 

You've heard me say this before: both planning and pantsing are drastically different forms of the very same process: the search for story.  You cannot write an optimally effective story until you've discovered and explored your narrative options (I'm sticking to that one), but I've come to realize there are two extremes (and many in-between approaches) to getting there.

Planners conduct that search by breaking the requisite parts of a story into their component parts – which requires a command of that knowledge in the first place – and strive to discover and explore them in context to each other at a high architectural level. 

Like a pre-party planning meeting before a convention.  Like a sketch of the completed structure before breaking ground.  Like a business plan written before a penny has been invested.

Once it all flows and fits, only then do they write a draft.

Somewhere out there is a writer saying, yeah, but this isn't a business, this is writing.  If you're intending to publish, and if this is you, then you're wrong about that.  Writing is art only to the extent that it compells a reader.  And it won't ever reach a reader until is complies with the expectations of the publishing industry. 

And those expectations are, in fact, defined by those darn rules and principles that won't go away.  Only when they are in place do things transition toward the qualitative.

Pantsers use a draft as a search tool, often without even having an awareness of how their story will resolve.  Along the way they plug in ideas and allow them to propel them forward into the story until – theory has it – an ending appears.  Or worse, just write what the muse tells them to write.  Trouble is, that muse may be under-informed.

If they know those pesky rules and principles (the rather inflexible yet tinkerable tenets of effective storytelling, or what I call The Six Core Competencies of Successful Writing), this absolutely can work.  But it will take longer, and the great risk is always to settle for that impulsive creative choice rather than vet the creative options.

Many famous writers (who certainly do know those rules and principles like the back of their own book covers, and use multiple drafts to try out different creative options) do it this way. 

Famous or not, any writer who succeeds with this approach is fated to writing multiple drafts, because a mid-course or unseeded shift in a story's through-line (a better idea surfaces) results in a draft that isn't optimized.  That just doesn't work as well as it should.

Just like getting to London and finding out there are no direct flights to Johannesburg after all. 

It has been through the use of analogies that I was able to wrap my head around the difference between my former approach (condemning pantsing as crazy, which I did) and my current belief that it is the underlying awareness, depth of knowledge and skill of application relative to the aforementioned rules and principles (especially story structure and its inherent component parts) that is – rather than process – the elusive and empowering variable that determines success.

To Each Her Own – We All Get to Choose

Just this week I heard from a Storyfix reader who passionately and eloquently related her frustrating story planning journey (bless her for trying) and a resultant default return to the comfort and ecstasy of her pantsing ways.

I have no idea if this woman even knows what the major story milestones are and where to put them.  Or why.  Or if she understands the differences in each of the three dimensions of characterization.

I hope she does.  And if not, I hope she understands that those rules and principles aren't just for planners, they are for any writer seeking to write an effective story, and that she'll school herself.

If she doesn't, then the choice to pants is unfortunate.  Not crazy, just under-informed or just plain stubborn.  Like a golfer who seeks to turn pro but refuses to take lessons ("hey, if I want to tee off with a putter, who are you to tell me otherwise?).

Because until she learns these things, the chances of stumbling upon, or instinctually nailing, the requisite architecture for a successful story are slim.

Like, winning the lottery kind of slim.

My response to her was written from my current, more empathetic understanding of this issue.  You can read the blog, her comment and my response HERE if you'd like.

The One Single Thing That Licenses Rule-Free Writing

There is an exception to all the above.  One that this series of analogies seeks to hammer home.

If you are writing with the intention of publishing your work, either traditionally or through some form of the emerging self-publishing marketplace, then you are absolutely bound to the criteria specified in the Six Core Competencies of Successful Storytelling.  No way around it. 

You can't make up your own art form.  You can't bend the rules into oblivion.

Because, in effect, you are seeking to turn pro at your craft. 

And in any professional endeavor there are boundaries, parameters, expectations and processes that not only define the game or work itself, but exist precisely because they work.  When practiced and perfected, they result in professional-level performance.

But… if you are writing only for yourself and perhaps some friends, for the pure pleasure of it and nothing beyond… if you are intentionally seeking to write experimental stories that do not adhere to this set of rules and principles and expectations… well… have fun with that. 

That's the only valid rationale for not writing in context to what makes a story work. 

Every successful story ever published is a case study in the truth of this reality.  Because every professional story demonstrates those rules and principles.

Stephen King pantses his stories.  Are you the next Stephen King?  Do you know what he knows about dramatic theory and story architecture?  Do you have his learning curve, his resume?

If you are an uninformed or defiant pantser who really doesn't know what a first plot point or a character arc is, that's the question you must ask yourself.

Because here's another truth: the more you know about those things, the more likely you'll be to put at least some pre-draft planning into your process.

Like, for instance, your ending. 

I promised you an analogy.  Here it is.

A story is like a meal.  A feast.  A buffet of the senses and emotions.

Or not.  Some stories are like a snack.  And we all like a good snack.

Either way, for the food to work – to be palatable, to be healthy or at least non-toxic, to be compelling – certain rules and principles apply.  At least if you intend to please your guests.

If you're a food photographer or a sadist, then never mind.

This is especially true if you intend to turn professional, to become a chef who gets paid to put food in front of people.  (Remember, that's the analogous case when you write for publication, there's no way around it.)

And so the preparation of the food begins.

Is there a recipe?  Perhaps.  If there's not, then there's certainly an expectation in play.  A sandwich is a sandwich, no matter what you put on it.  Open face, dry or loaded, seasoned or plain, bakery quality or Wonderbread, vegan or deadly juicy, bologna or imported fine aged meat flown in by private jet from South Africa.

A sandwich is a sandwich.  Certain principles define that.

You have all the latitude in the world to make the sandwich something of your own creation, to add whatever you wish, to assemble it however you wish.  Wearing oven mitts or standing in the kitchen naked.  Grilled or microwaved.  Organic or scrounged from neighborhood garbage bins.

The options are unlimited.  But the rules and principles… are not.

It doesn't have to be clean or healthy or pretty or something your mother would like.  It just needs to adhere to the principles of what a sandwich is and isn't.

A shingle from your roof served between two discarded wing-tip heels… that may look like a sandwich, but it's not.  There are rules and principles about these things, and your choices, however creative and unique to you (think mustard on peanut butter), need to conform.

You can pants the sandwich using leftovers from your fridge or from something you've just slaughtered out back.  Make it all up in the moment.

As long as you understand what a sandwich is and isn't.

Or you can lift it from Martha Stewart's latest sandwich bestseller written from her study while wearing a police-issue ankle collar.

It's all your call.  As long as the bread doesn't make the consumer want to use it as a hockey puck or the smell of the meat causes the neighbors to call 9-1-1.

This principle holds true for schooled chefs and your kindergartener. 

You need raw materials, and you need to know how to use them.  You can gather the materials before you begin, or you can make a trip to the store each time you decide on a new ingredient (the name of that store, by the way, is Next Draft Foods).

The more you've done this, the less you need to depend on a cookbook. 

Because you know the rules and the principles and the expectations.  And you've tempered what you know with your creativity and a seasoned awareness of what works and what doesn't, even when both are technically inside those boundaries.

So… bon appetite.   May your guests gorge on your storytelling genius… and may you not get sued for imparting Ebola to the folks who sit at your table.

My new book, "Story Engineering: Mastering the Six Core Competencies of Successful Writing," has just been published by Writers Digest Books.  The rules and fundamentals are there, waiting for you in six easy-to-understand buckets of illumination.

Writing Analogy, Part 2: How To Cook Up A Tasty Story That Satisfies and Nourishes is a post from: Larry Brooks at storyfix.com