Still Want to Be a Writer?
I’ve written quite a few of these entries before, because there’s always something else to say. I’ve talking about committing to the craft, what’s expected and not expected in publishing, the nuts and bolts sort of topics that are rarely covered in a writing class, because a writing class will rarely go beyond discussing the craft and how to improve. I didn’t even know about agents and that query letters were a thing until graduate school.
“But Vaughn, what if I came to here to actually, y’know, learn something about the craft of writing?” I’m glad I imagined you asked. For all intents and purposes, I’ll discuss craft as it relates to fiction, but the tips can apply to most genres and mediums.
The Questions of Urgency
Whether you’re writing a short story or novel, there are certain questions that a reader will have either subconsciously or ready to post in an excoriating screed with your name at the top of the list. Urgency is a quality that informs the necessity of the story being told, that it could only happen to the protagonist, only in that place, and only on that day in particular, and it must be done quickly before conflict is introduced. The author must justify those details, otherwise the story becomes untethered and easily discarded.
For example, in one writing circle, a writer submitted a short story that served as a portrait of a Southern Mississippi bar on a Friday night, and the various events that occurred. Stated several times is the fact that the primary character is pining for the bartender, and has always chickened out from talking to her. At first, the questions and answers are simple? Why could this only happen at the bar? It’s where the girl works. Why does the story focus on the guy? He’s the one with the romantic conflict/challenge. Why could it only happen that Friday night? It’s her shift, his only night off with money to spend. These are the basic questions of urgency, and at first glance, the story answers them. It’s a middling, low-stakes story, but it apparently accomplishes what it needs to. However, there is another question: What will disrupt the status quo? The assumption by the reader is that the protagonist will either attempt to talk to his romantic interest, or will learn that she is unavailable, but no matter how, changing his outlook either positively or negatively. Instead, the story describes the events of the bar as those that happen every week, and in the end, the protagonist, one again, chickens out, without any change to the status quo.
That nothing changes is why the short story didn’t work, or could be easily discarded because it’s just a snapshot of a bar, more of a setting-creation exercise than a fully fleshed story. As a first chapter, even, it would falter, as a novel has to establish the status quo, and then break the stasis as soon as possible or otherwise leave the reader bored.
It’s something to consider when constructing your setting, developing your characters, and planning your plotlines. Within the first ten pages (or less, if dealing with a shorter story, first chapter if longer), the reader should have answers to most of the questions of urgency if you want to keep their attention.
Character Development
When was your protagonist’s first kiss? If they were in a movie, and they made their initial entrance, what song would be playing? Did they prefer their mother or father while growing up? What do they dream about? Answering these is part of the “First Date” process, where you ask your character all of the questions you’d ask someone on the first date, and try to answer as detailed as possible. These answers will often lead to more questions, and to more answers, making the character more three-dimensional. None of the answers have to make it into the story itself, but it can inform you better on their decisions and actions as the plot goes on.
The Proust Questionnaire is a common writer’s tool for character development, a deeper examination than the “First Date” questions, but answering them as the character would can give the writer an idea of the character’s nature. This is how even an alleged “Mary Sue” can develop into a compelling character, because the writer will have to delve into how the character became that way to begin with. By knowing what makes the character tick, situations and conflicts will become more invested for the character, and the reader as a result.
Music is also a commonly used tool in the craft of writing, as both writers and cognitive musicology have found, since there’s no one specific part of the brain that processes music. However, what kind of music does you character like? Do they have a playlist tuned specifically to the story you’ve given them, and the answers you’ve come up with for them? Pandora is a resource, as instead of playlists, it creates “stations” based on algorithms influenced by user feedback. Thumbs up or down a track as the character would, punch in what their favorite bands or artists or composers would be, and curate it according to the character’s tastes. This way, they character isn’t just getting a list of songs that you enjoy, but also a chance to discover new artists and tracks for both you, and to further develop the character. This can aid a writer in getting into a character’s “mindset” by listening to the music while writing them.
Setting Development
“Sense of place” is a commonly heard term when discussing setting. It’s the notes of detail that keep the setting memorable, and more real to the reader, instead of nondescript rooms and places. It doesn’t relate directly to the questions of urgency, but it can help make it clear that this one bar, hallway, field, city square, is different from all the others. “Sense of place” is trying to evoke the setting as if you had been there yourself, that the place has an identity all on it’s own. “Setting as character” is another way of accomplishing this, having the setting itself influence the plot of the story, or the actions and motivations of the character and how who they are is affected by where they are. If the story takes place in a city, why that one? Could it have taken place in any other city? Is the house, bar, inn, ship, or any other enclosed area unique in some fashion? This doesn’t mean that everywhere has to be unique, just the places that are important to the plot or the primary characters.
Places often have one memorable detail. Harry Dresden’s basement apartment in The Dresden Files was largely like ever other basement apartment, but lit exclusively by candlelight, and the Star Wars poster on the wall was a detail that always managed to make it in. The candlelight was to establish how magic and technology don’t mesh and the poster served to humanize Harry as well as a shorthand to imply his somewhat nerdy inclinations. All one has to do is look at the fan reaction to the TV adaptation of The Dresden Files (“HARRY DOESN’T HAVE F***ING ELECTRIC LIGHTS!!!! 
