Fiction Writer's Workshop

by Josip Novakovich

This book exemplifies the best of a writing workshop: thought-provoking instruction, a charismatic teacher and illuminating examples from classic and contemporary literary masters.
Each chapter explores a different aspect of the art of fiction and ends with a series of writing exercises –127 in all. Complete with self-critique questions to help you assess your work, these exercises challenge you to experiment with the diverse writing styles as you clarify your own.
Make the most of Josip Novakovich's insightful, mind-expanding workshop and come away with a stronger voice, a broader perspective and better fiction.

Genres: Writing, Nonfiction, Reference, Self Help, Unfinished, Language, Creative

256 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1995

About the author

Josip Novakovich (Croatian: Novaković) is a Croatian-American writer. His grandparents had immigrated from the Croatia, then part of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, to Cleveland, Ohio, and, after the First World War, his grandfather returned to what had become Yugoslavia. Josip Novakovich was born (in 1956) and grew up in the Central Croatian town of Daruvar, studied medicine in the northern Serbian city of Novi Sad. At the age of 20 he left Yugoslavia, continuing his education at Vassar College (B.A.), Yale University (M.Div.), and the University of Texas, Austin (M.A.).

He has published a novel (April Fool's Day), three short story collections (Yolk, Salvation and Other Disasters, Infidelities: Stories of War and Lust), two collections of narrative essays (Apricots from Chernobyl, Plum Brandy: Croatian Journey) and a textbook (Fiction Writer's Workshop).

Novakovich has taught at Nebraska Indian Community College, Bard College, Moorhead State University, Antioch University in Los Angeles, the University of Cincinnati, and is now a professor at Pennsylvania State University.

Mr. Novakovich is the recipient of the Whiting Writer's Award, a Guggenheim fellowship, two fellowships from the National Endowment of the Arts, an award from the Ingram Merrill Foundation, and an American Book Award from the Before Columbus Foundation. He was anthologized in Best American Poetry, Pushcart Prize, and O.Henry Prize Stories.

He taught in the Master's of Fine Arts program at Pennsylvania State University, where he lived under the iron rule of Reed Moyer's Halfmoon Township autocracy. He is currently in Montreal, Quebec teaching at Concordia University.

Reviews

[Бранимир Събев · Rating 5 out of 5]

Днес ще ви представя една книга, която всеки пишещ колега без съмнение трябва да притежава. Чел съм и други полезни за творчеството книги, като "Изкуството на романа" на Кундера и особено "За писането: Мемоари на занаята" на Стивън Кинг. Без съмнение обаче водач в листата ми за книги, които са оказали наистина благотворно влияние върху писането ми е "Курс по творческо писане" на Йосип Новакович.

Въпросният хърватин е професор и преподава творческо писане в Пенсилванския университет в САЩ. Беше идвал и на гости в България. Книгата се издава още и със съдействието на Фондация Елизабет Костова - респект за това.

Какво съдържа тази книга, пишещи приятели? Съдържа десетина глави с основните елементи на творчеството, като след всяка глава има (без)ценни упражнения да практикувате какво сте разбрали. Ето и въпросните глави:

1. Източници на художествена проза - откъде да черпите вдъхновение.
2. Обстановката - къде се развива действието.
3. Образът - как се гради образът на героя.
4. Сюжетът - много важна!
5. Гледната точка - кой разказва и от кое лице.
6. Диалогът и сцената - също много важно.
7. Началото и краят - как се започва, как се завършва.
8. Описания и избор на думите - няма нужда от представяне.
9. Гласът - как звучи героят и разказвачът.
10. Преработка - чернова и белова.

Не очаквайте да научите великото свещено тайнство на писането или някаква друга дивотия. Не. До голяма степен в творчеството си има занаятчийски похвати и чисто технически параметри, които трябва да бъдат спазени. От тази книга ще разберете ако не всички, то поне повечето от тях. Нещо друго много ценно - Новакович като писател пише разкази, както повечето от нас и примерите му в голяма степен са свързани с кратката форма.

Още - не очаквайте тази книга да ви направи писатели от раз. За целта е нужен много труд в продължение на години, а и желание, отдаденост, дисциплина, упоритост, талант ако щете. В крайна сметка, каквото и да умножиш по нула, крайният резултат е нула, нали така? Ако сте сериозни обаче, тази книга ще ви се отплати. На мен лично ми даде наистина МНОГО. Особено първите четири глави.

Честно да си призная, не съм съгласен с абсолютно всичко, казано от хърватския професор. Има немалко упражнения, които съм пропуснал умишлено, дори цели една-две глави, въпреки изричните му указания да не го правя. Защо ли? Защото, колеги, писането е абсолютната форма на свобода. Спазвайки всички правила, накрая ще сме скучни. Всеки от нас сам гради своята писателска кула - висока или ниска, тънка или тумбеста, от различен цвят и материали, на различна основа. Тази книга ще ви даде много, или малко материали за строежа, но не бива да очаквате да ви даде абсолютно всичко. И все пак, има какво да ви даде.

Скъпи колеги писатели в България. Моля ви, купете, прочетете, упражнете. Има смисъл. Дузина левчета са прекалено нищожна цена за това, което ще получите в замяна.

Гарантирам.

[Adrian Alvarez · Rating 3 out of 5]

Okay okay so I always complain about books on writing yet I am constantly reading books on writing either for classes or as craft markers for my own practice. This one was actually pretty good. First of all, its written by an accomplished author (that's crucial for me at this point). Secondly, it presents itself as a textbook. One of the aspects of the "how to write..." genre that I can't stand is the veiled arrogance behind most of those books. The posture tends to be, "well you are actually a perfectly great writer and here are some tips to get past those pesky gatekeepers who need to be tricked into publishing your already great, flawless writing." At least a textbook comes from the perspective that writing is a craft to be worked on and improved. I'll stick with that sort of optimism carried over: good work gets published; no one is tricking anyone with secret codes and methods.

Anyway, Novakovich is an interesting writer and though I disagreed with his opinions at times he actually invites this and by no means considers his own word final. All in all this was a useful overview of the main building blocks of fiction and the included anthology of stories were useful and interesting.

[Jerry · Rating 4 out of 5]

If you're looking for a writing book where an author riffs on writing for a while looks elsewhere. It reads more casual than a textbook would, but Fiction Writer's Workshop demands a lot of work out of the reader. If you're not willing to go through it performing most of the exercises you're not going to get the most out of it

Granted I've yet to redo the whole book doing all the exercises, but as far as I've gotten I've consistently found stories that I didn't know I had in me. The author takes the approach of throwing as many techniques your way as possible and then asking you to experiment with them. You'll embrace some and loathe others and in the process you'll find out more about yourself as a writer and end up with a few pieces that you'll definitely want to work on some more.

FWW probably has more value if you're a beginner with the dedication to write everyday and learn the craft or an aspiring writer who's had trouble actually getting stories completed. If you've been published and are just looking for a source of new ideas this is probably a path you've already been down before.

[Kate · Rating 4 out of 5]

Oh my God! From ideas in the first couple of chapters, I wrote three, count 'em THREE short stories! Similar output throughout the rest of the book. Love it!

[Vanya Prodanova · Rating 4 out of 5]

Книгата се оказва любопитно и заинтригуващо четиво. Страничният ефект е, че сега ми се четат класики и четенето на художествена литература няма да е същото. Вече като се възхищавам или възмущавам на нещо в някоя книга, ще имам някаква представа защо е така и кое е това, което звучи на място или не. :)

Книгата е доста практична, с упражнения, които звучат доста забавни и полезни според мен не само за желаещите да бъдат писатели, но и за всяко човешко същество, което някога му се е налагало да пише автобиография или обикновен доклад. Мдааа... къде беше тази книга като се учех как с малко думи да предавам много и с много думи да предам нищо. Как да е!

С удоволствие ще си я препрочета и на английски език, тъй като по-добро упражнение за усвояване на писмения английски от такъв тип забавни упражнения - не се сещам. Определено звучат стократно по-привлекателно от безкрайните е-мейли, които те карат да пишеш на всеки езиков курс. :Р

[Ал Торо · Rating 5 out of 5]

Сред книгите за писане, на които съм попадал на български, тази ми е любимата.

[Carrie Mitchell · Rating 5 out of 5]

I was introduced to this book last year, through participation of an Open University online course, so got myself a copy. It's written in plain English, without the sanctimonious habit many instructive authors have of loading everything with mysterious jargon and/or elusive, frilly words not used since Dickens was a lad. This means that it's a book which extends a welcome to new writers, rather than making them feel out of their depth. As a seasoned author himself, Novakovich is able to justify his lessons and examples through his own experiences. He does, however, honestly state that these are just his experiences, and in no way intended to dismiss methods others support. This makes the book as welcoming to other experienced writers too, because it doesn't disregard what they have to say.

I've read other reviews, and many of them allude to the extensive amount of exercises at the end of each chapter. Some have insisted it's top heavy, in that respect. Is it? I challenge that and assert that writing as a profession is bloody hard work! If a reader is serious about becoming a professional writer, then these exercises are really just the tip of the iceberg, and a realistic way of setting expectations of what needs to be done to succeed. I still have many of these exercises to do, and will continue to redo them in the future.

Overall I think it's an excellent guide, providing the reader has an open mind and a good work ethic.

[Andrew Knighton · Rating 3 out of 5]

There's a familiarity that comes from reading a lot of writing books, and certainly Novakovich's book spends time on things you'll have read elsewhere. But it's good to be reminded of these lessons, and they come with some excellent practice exercises. His breakdown of subjects like forms of humour also gave me some interesting new food for thought.

[Margarit (Mark) Ralev · Rating 5 out of 5]

Must read for every wannabe writer (like me).
I’ve rented if from the library, but also bought it later to physically remind myself of all the great writing tips.

[John David · Rating 4 out of 5]

A very good resource for new and seasoned writers. I am moving into the fiction genre, and this book is very helpful, especially the exercises. Even if you don't actually do them, just thinking about the subject helps you learn. There are many awesome examples of the situations that are described.

[Karine Green · Rating 4 out of 5]

I really enjoyed it, and did get some great ideas from it. It was a bit dry in places. I think someone in a review mentioned that it reads like a textbook. I would have to agree.

[Tyler · Rating 2 out of 5]

I've tried to use this book as a guide/course numerous times, each time to no avail. Something about the book and the way the exercises are done drives me towards a depression that sinks my desire to write anything.

[Elizabeth Howe · Rating 2 out of 5]

It's super basic. Some of the examples are taken out of context and the suggested changes are absurd. The exercises are really the only reason to get this book.

[Sole · Rating 5 out of 5]

The Best Book on Fiction Writing

[Demetri · Rating 4 out of 5]

A good craft book arrives the way a good line of dialogue does: not as a lecture, but as a nudge, a pressure, a hand on the small of your back that makes you take one step forward before you’ve decided you’re ready. Josip Novakovich’s “Fiction Writer’s Workshop” has that kinetic insistence. It does not flatter the reader. It does not promise that talent will surface if you simply believe. It keeps turning the page toward the work: listen, notice, cut, revise, listen again. In that sense it resembles the workshop room it implicitly conjures, with its long tables and its stubborn fluorescent light, where the romance of writing is permitted only insofar as it survives contact with craft.

The book wears its premise plainly. Fiction is made of choices, and dialogue is where those choices become audible. In conversation, people reveal themselves even when they intend to conceal. They bargain, bluff, seduce, plead, posture. They speak to be loved, to be safe, to win, to postpone loss. A writer who can hear those moves, and then translate them into the compressed clarity of the page, gains an engine. Novakovich’s aim is to build that engine in the reader by treating dialogue not as ornament, not as a break between “real” narrative, but as action: a way characters do things to each other, and a way stories change direction.

He begins, wisely, before the page. Chapter One asks you to go out and listen the way you listened as a child, when speech was not yet transparent. The world, he reminds you, is crowded with voices, and most of the time we survive by tuning them out. Writers must do the opposite. He has you track your own talk for a day, not to punish yourself but to diagnose your habits: the filler you use when you are uncertain, the automatic courtesy that masks impatience, the cliché that arrives like a life raft when you’d rather not think. In this early movement the book is almost anthropological. It treats speech as a set of social behaviors that can be observed, collected, and reconfigured. It also insists, gently but firmly, that much of what we call “voice” is not lyrical genius. It is pattern. It is repetition. It is a person’s preferred way of avoiding what hurts.

When the book pivots to “dialogue you read,” it performs an important correction. Real talk, faithfully transcribed, is often unreadable. It is full of repetition, throat clearing, half-starts, private references, and blank space that a room can carry but a page cannot. Novakovich refuses the common student demand for “realistic” dialogue, the sort that reproduces everyday speech like a tape recorder. Fictional dialogue has to be truer than that. It must feel alive while being designed. You have to select. You have to compress. You have to decide what the reader needs to know, what the reader can infer, and what the reader should be allowed to feel without being told. If the reader is doing too much work, the spell breaks. If the writer is doing too much explaining, the spell breaks differently.

This is where Novakovich’s temperament serves him. He distrusts decoration. He prefers function. A scene, in his terms, is not a place to show what you know. It is a place where something changes. Dialogue is one of the clearest ways to cause that change, because it permits conflict to emerge in real time. In the book’s early chapters, he presses this lesson through repetition, and the repetition is not a flaw. It is pedagogy. You learn a craft principle once in theory, then you learn it again by doing, then you learn it a third time by realizing your draft didn’t actually obey it.

Chapter Three moves the argument from listening to making. What gives dialogue energy, he suggests, is not cleverness but want. Characters speak because they want something. They speak because they are trying to manage the consequences of wanting. They speak because silence would be worse. If you can identify what a character wants in a given moment, you can give their line a vector. Without that vector, your dialogue becomes the sound of people passing time, a performance of conversation rather than a scene with stakes. Novakovich’s approach is practical, almost mechanical, and yet it points toward a deeper truth: the purpose of a line is not to be “good” in isolation but to exert force on the person across from it.

In Novakovich’s workshop world, opposition is the oxygen of dialogue. Agreement is flat. Even lovers agree in different ways. Even friends agree with an edge. The book encourages you to make use of interruption, deflection, and misalignment, because these are natural features of human speech when stakes are present. A person does not answer the question asked; they answer the question they fear. A person changes the subject, not because the subject is uninteresting, but because it is dangerous. This is why Novakovich values subtext so highly. Subtext is not a clever trick writers use to make dialogue “literary.” It is the default condition of human interaction. People rarely say precisely what they mean, and when they do, it usually indicates either intimacy or desperation.

The middle chapters deepen the craft by insisting that dialogue belongs to bodies. One of the most helpful corrective gestures in “Fiction Writer’s Workshop” is its refusal to treat dialogue as floating text. Characters speak in rooms, in cars, on sidewalks, with the weather happening, with doors opening, with cups being set down. Action beats are not decorative stage directions but a second channel of meaning. A character says “I’m fine” while backing away. Another says “Sure” while blocking the exit. Novakovich wants you to build scenes where what is happening between lines alters the meaning of the lines. This insistence has a moral component, too, though it is never sermonized: language is behavior, and behavior is situated. Your characters cannot speak convincingly unless they inhabit a world.

When he turns to character, the book avoids the usual shortcuts. There is no fetishizing of quirks, no celebration of phonetic spelling as authenticity. Instead Novakovich treats voice as pattern. One character speaks in short, declarative sentences because they are decisive, or because they cannot bear ambiguity. Another speaks in long, qualifying phrases because they are cautious, or because they are trying to control the room through nuance. A third asks questions not to learn but to corner. These habits accumulate across scenes, and the reader begins to recognize them the way we recognize the speech of people we know: not by their vocabulary alone, but by their tactics. In this way, Novakovich offers a quietly sophisticated model of characterization. Characters are not profiles. They are strategies.

Then comes the book’s most liberating claim: dialogue can generate story. Many writers freeze because they believe they must know the plot before they can write. Novakovich offers an alternate beginning. Put two people in a situation where their desires cannot be reconciled. Give one of them a reason to hide. Let them talk. The talk will produce consequences. The consequences will suggest the next scene. This method will not suit every writer, but it has a specific virtue. It gives you a way to begin with pressure rather than premise. It also honors a truth about narrative that is easy to forget in the era of outlines and templates: plots often emerge from what people say to each other and what they refuse to say, from misunderstandings, from evasions that become habits, from a single line that cannot be taken back.

Chapter Seven widens the lens again, arguing that dialogue can function as architecture across a whole narrative. Conversations repeat. Arguments return wearing new clothes. A question avoided early becomes a question that cannot be avoided late. A joke that once softened a scene becomes a joke that hardens into cruelty. This view of structure is particularly hospitable to stories that are driven less by spectacle than by relationship. It suggests that the spine of a narrative can be verbal, that a turning point can arrive as a sentence rather than as a gunshot. For writers who tend to build their stories around emotional reckonings, this is a powerful permission slip.

The book ends with the portion writers pretend to hate: mechanics. But Novakovich treats mechanics as a continuation of craft rather than a separate domain of rules. Punctuation is rhythm. Paragraph breaks are breath and emphasis. Tags are signage. The reader needs orientation, but they do not want to feel the author’s hand waving them through the scene. Here Novakovich’s restraint is persuasive. He prefers the neutral tag because it vanishes. He prefers the beat that carries meaning because it belongs to the scene rather than to the author’s desire to sound clever. If your dialogue requires ornate tags to convey emotion, the book suggests, you have not yet written the line that contains the emotion.

The book’s tone can feel almost conversational in its own way, but it is conversation with a purpose. Novakovich writes as if he is across the table from you, pencil in hand, ready to stop you mid-sentence. His paragraphs move by clean assertions followed by immediately usable instructions. The voice is teacherly without becoming paternal. When he turns prescriptive, he does it like someone who has watched the same error derail drafts for years: too much throat clearing, too much politeness, too much explanation that exists to spare the writer from making the scene sharper. Even his briskness has an aesthetic: he is modeling the very compression he wants you to practice, cutting away the ornamental so that the functional can carry the weight.

There is also, in his insistence on listening, a quiet ethics. Listening can be predatory. Overhearing can become a form of theft. Novakovich treats listening as a craft discipline, which means it must be guided by choice. You do not need to reproduce someone’s private pain verbatim to make use of its cadence. You need to learn how people protect themselves with language, and then invent from that knowledge. His best assignments teach transformation rather than extraction: take what you heard, remove the identifying details, and keep only the human maneuver.

For readers who come to craft books hoping for a single doctrine, “Fiction Writer’s Workshop” may feel stubbornly plural. Novakovich does not hand you one formula for a good scene. He hands you tests. Read the dialogue aloud. Strip the tags. Remove the punctuation and put it back based on breath. Cut the first and last lines and see if the scene improves. Stage the same exchange in two different places and watch the meaning change. These are not glamorous moves, but they separate dialogue that merely conveys information from dialogue that creates pressure.

It is worth noting how the book trains time. Many writing guides speak as if the act of writing is identical with the act of drafting. Novakovich makes revision central, and not only as cleanup. Revision is where you discover what the scene is truly about. It is where you locate the line that changes the balance and build toward it. It is where you remove the sentences that protect you from the scene’s real risk. The book is, in this way, a manual for learning to tolerate discomfort, because the most honest dialogue is often the least polite.

A craft book that is so devoted to practice invites a specific kind of judgment. It is not a book of aphorisms to be underlined and admired. It is a set of prompts designed to change your habits. That design is one of its strengths. The exercises are concrete and cumulative. They require you to observe, to draft, to revise, to test your work by reading aloud, to cut. They also require a kind of humility. You are asked to look at your own default language and admit that much of it is padding. You are asked to recognize that “natural” is not a synonym for “effective.” You are asked to accept, repeatedly, that the best version of your scene may be the one that contains fewer words than you wanted it to.

Still, the book is not without limits, and those limits matter if you approach it as an adult writer rather than a student. The first is the narrowness of its lens. “Fiction Writer’s Workshop” is, at heart, a dialogue book that uses dialogue to touch everything else. For many writers, this is a gift. For others, it may feel like a partial map. If your struggle is with description, or with narrative voice that is not spoken, or with the slow build of atmosphere, you will have to bring your own supplementation. Novakovich’s method can sharpen your scenes, but it will not necessarily teach you how to luxuriate, how to linger, how to build a paragraph that sings without anyone speaking.

The second limit is tonal. The book’s briskness is a virtue, but it can also feel like a constraint. Novakovich is not interested in mystique. He does not linger in the fog where writers sometimes find their obsessions. He gives you assignments, not myths. For some readers, this will be a relief. For others, it may leave a gap. Literature is not only craft. It is also fixation. A writer returns to a subject for reasons that are not always rational or teachable. Novakovich’s method does not pretend to supply that compulsion. It assumes you will bring it.

A third limit is the risk inherent in workshop competence. Exercises can train a writer to produce scenes that function, dialogue that performs, conflict that escalates, and yet something in the work can remain too tidy. Workshop writing, at its worst, becomes a style: crisp, efficient, slightly generic, impressively correct. Novakovich does not advocate generic writing. But his emphasis on clarity, on purpose, on the line doing something, can tempt a diligent student toward a kind of competence that stops where literature begins. The peculiar, the obsessive, the unteachable sensibility that makes a story singular still has to be pursued elsewhere, in the writer’s own appetite and risk.

A reader considering the book should also consider their preferred mode of learning. This is not a book to skim in bed and feel improved by association. It asks for a notebook, for a willingness to eavesdrop on your own sentences, for the patience to rewrite a page until it stops sounding like you. Used that way, it becomes less a text than a set of drills that leave your ear permanently more alert.

These limits do not undermine the book’s value. They clarify its function. “Fiction Writer’s Workshop” is best understood as a disciplined instrument. It sharpens your ear. It tightens your scenes. It makes you more aware of what your dialogue is doing when it pretends to be casual. It encourages you to trust subtext, to allow silence, to let bodies contradict words. It also encourages you to cut, and then to cut again, until only the pressure remains. If you are a writer who overwrites, the book will be corrective. If you are a writer who hides behind description, it will push you into the room where characters must face each other.

What lingers after reading is the book’s respect for the reader’s attention. Novakovich assumes that attention is the most valuable currency in the room. He teaches you to earn it by making dialogue consequential. He teaches you to keep it by removing what does not belong. And he teaches you, perhaps most importantly, that the writer’s ear is not a gift bestowed at birth. It is a skill made by repeated, stubborn listening.

For that reason, I would place “Fiction Writer’s Workshop” at 74 out of 100: a serious, durable craft guide that rewards attention, sometimes narrows the conversation by its chosen focus, and excels most when its practical rigor illuminates the messy human motives that make dialogue worth writing in the first place.

[Gabe · Rating 3 out of 5]

I found Fiction Writer’s Workshop to be very informative. There was a lot of information in this book that I had previously learned, but had almost forgotten. While reading the book when I learned about a new technique or was re-familiarized with an old, I would suddenly feel inspired to write just to test the techniques out. Novakovich does an excellent job of breaking down by chapter the fundamental principles of writing. For most of his advice he provides clear examples, which help to better illustrate the principles he is trying to teach.

Early into the book, in the Setting As Antagonist section Novakovich speaks of a writers need to view the world through fresh eyes. To experience everything, not only in the rare but in the mundane. I felt this was an extremely important bit of advice. As a writer, inspiration can sometimes appear rather illusive, but that is usually a result of our wanting to be inspired by an external force without attempting to find the inspiration on our own through simple appreciation of our surroundings. Familiarity can sometimes be very inspiring, but only if we allow ourselves to see the familiar in different ways. Novakovich says, “I took my eight-month-old son to the zoo to see the elephants. He found a bee circling around us far more intriguing than a dancing elephant. Instead of noticing gibbons leaping on trees, he noticed fish in the water. It struck me that his perspective had a tremendous advantage over mine. He saw the world, while I saw the zoo.” I found this to be wonderfully appropriate and important observation. As writers, we can easily believe that ideas can be hard to come by, but if we view the world as a child would, we would find a story to tell about most anything.

Later within the chapter, in the Setting as a Character Portrait section, Novakovich speaks about using the setting to describe a character. He explains how using the character's habits of arranging or keeping his belongings can be a useful way to illustrate the characters personality. This seemed to me to be a very comfortable way to describe a character, because it is something most people naturally do when entering another person's space. It’s human nature to judge a person by how they organize (or lack of organizing) their surroundings (life). The example Novakovich used from Dead Souls, by Nikolai Gogol, was a perfect example of this method. It gave me a good starting point to begin my own experimentation of the method.

I would say that the biggest potential shortcomings of the book were the exercises. Not for their content, but for the layout. But, that would only be a problem in my opinion, depending on how the reader approaches them. If someone felt they had to do each and every exercise then they might find themselves a little overwhelmed. I took the exercises as suggestions that you could use in the future. At times you either need inspiration or just want to practice, but I am not sure that is how Novakovich meant the reader to use them.

Overall, I found the book to be very well structured making referring back to it rather easy. Novakovich does a good job of providing clear tools that the reader can quickly apply to his/her own writing. I think I will find myself turning back to this book often. While the practical tools he provides are valuable, I believe his advice on how to approach writing, and his advice on how to personalize your writing is probably the most important portion of anything he has laid out in the book.

[Jen · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book covers basic elements of fiction: setting, plot, character, beginnings & endings, dialogue & narritive, voice. POV, and revising. Each chapter provides multiple examples using works of fiction, and exercises and checklists for further writing development.

I've read a lot of these kinds of books and I like this one because it goes more in-depth on technique. The examples were a little dated; except for a couple, I'd never read the books that were quoted from. But I liked the author's fresh approach and ideas. The excercises really make you think critically about your writing.

[Яна Хараланова · Rating 4 out of 5]

Вярно, че я четох сто години тази книга, ноооо... определено я оценявам като доста полезна.
Засягат се основни положения за да напишеш смислен, адекватен и добър текст, без да се влиза в прекалена детайлност.
Харесва ми, че Новаконич разглежда различни варианти, а не твърди "има само един правилен начин".
Упражненията към всяка глава са интересни и полезни.

[Amanda Patterson · Rating 4 out of 5]

Great for writers!

4/5

[Rabbit {Paint me like one of your 19th century gothic heroines!} · Rating 4 out of 5]

Need to be reviewed.

[Kiara Entelecheia · Rating 3 out of 5]

"It's my job to make great students greater, not make mediocre students less mediocre." – Цитатът не е на Новакович, а на абсолютните шампиони по разказвачество „Пиксар“, но ми се струва уместен, за да илюстрира всичко, което тази книга не е.
Писането е достатъчно неблагодарно хоби, за да съм долу-горе толерантна към всеки, решил да му се отдаде. Подкрепям терапевтичното драскане, любовните душеизлияния, позьорския артистизъм... то друго остана ли? :) Абе в крайна сметка – нека всеки си пише, каквото му харесва.
Така ми дойде първият сериозен проблем с книгата, още от първа глава, посветена на това откъде да черпим идеи за историите си. И не става въпрос тук за спиритуални съвети, а за чисто „практически“ напътствия. Авторът неиронично ни съветва да се вдъхновяваме от други произведения, от реалния живот и от въображението си. В смисъл... Еквивалент ми е да отворя наръчник по млекарство и първият урок да ми е „Купете си крава.“ Пишещите хора са хора с много проблеми, но липсата на идеи за истории не е един от тях. Та червен флаг още в началото: авторът явно не познава целевата си аудитория. Жалко!
Нататък: тук вече може да се спори, но май най-слабата част от цялата книга бяха примерите, с които се илюстрира даден похват (пейзажи, гледни точки, диалози...). Самите примери не бяха лоши, някои даже показваха чудесна проза – точно там е проблемът. Аз лично много повече съм научила не от гениите в дадена област, а от най-големите некадърници. Освен как се пише добре (за което не ни трябва курс, можем просто... ъ-ъ, да отворим добра книга), трябва да се покаже как НЕ се пише добре. Хубаво, даваш ми пример с някакво зверско описание на Джойс – и аз к’во? Към примерите се добавят и упражнения, с които четящият (четящият пишещ?) да прецени дали се справя добре с писането. Дори без да сме чували за Дънинг-Крюгер, стига ни да разменим две приказки с кандидати за безсмъртни писатели. Всеки новак счита творчеството си за просто прекрасно, чукча писател е гений, велик иноватор, единствената причина да си стои непризнат е, понеже масоните не искат безсмъртните му истини да стигнат до хората, народе, събуди се, спиш ли?! Впрочем казвам това с известна доза самоирония и по-скоро с разбиране, отколкото с язвителност: такъв тип нереалистични оценки са съвсем нормални. Представяте ли си да пишете с идеята, че сте абсолютни некадърници, и да се гордеете, че писанията ви са лоши? Тъпотиите настрана, ако човек няма реална оценка за уменията си, да се сравнява с Джойс или с Хемингуей само ще го обърка допълнително. Покажи му лошо писане, което (няма как) да звучи досущ като собственото му – тогава можеш да му помогнеш. Такива примери в тази книга почти нямаше, а където ги имаше, бяха твърде специфични. Разбирам, че да покажеш „как не трябва да се прави“ крие много проблеми от логистична гледна точка: едва ли много хора ще се съгласят да си предоставят творбите за такъв тип ползване. Обаче, ей, никой не е казвал, че да пишеш курс по творческо писане е лесно, нали?
Въпреки дразнещите моменти Новакович си има и добрите попадения. Последната глава, посветена на редакцията, съм си я запазила в браузъра и мисля да се връщам на нея при нужда, сбита и прецизна е. Ако гледам на книгата не като на „курс“, ами просто като на още едно мнение какво е писането, мога да приема грешките ѝ за различие в гледните точки на мен и на автора. Не че нещо се променя, просто ще се ядосвам по-малко и ще мога да закръгля рейтинга си в гудрийдс (откъде да знам, доказателство за престиж?) на три.
П.С. Давам си сметка, че цитатът отгоре въобще не отговаря на ревюто ми. :D Всъщност цитатът е по-скоро за контраст с общия тон на книгата (че се обясняват очевидни неща, което всеки пишещ долу-горе би трябвало да знае, като да има идея за сюжет например – първото ми оплакване), а ревюто ми е насочено към мой собствен съвет за подобряване на писането. Двете неща не си противоречат. Само защото някой прави грешки, не значи, че няма талант. Просто не мисля, че ще стане велик, като подражава на Хемингуей.

[John · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is still the best beginner book on fiction writing I have seen out there. I think there are two reasons for this. One reason is Novakovich does not assume any real knowledge of the principles of fiction writing. I think the second is that he goes through things in a very step-by-step way starting with setting and character and moving forward. A third and very important reason is that the book is short. This was something that feels like, whether very intentional decision on Novakovich's part. It is my favorite thing about this book. I have read this book at least four times now, starting in 2007, I think and again just now. The book is written as if Novakovich is a mentor/professor standing in front of you in a workshop group. It really focuses on short stories and is probably best for teaching short stories. But that is because Novakovich and a lot of other excellent writing teachers believe that you can't write a good novel until you can put together a good shorter piece of fiction. I used to disagree with this but that is because I didn't understand at the time. I now completely agree with this. Because I now see very clearly that before you can even begin to write a novel you need to understand what "a story" actually is. This book teaches you what makes something a story worth reading. The one drawback that this book has is that it is slightly dated. It apparently was only written 13 years ago, but it seems much longer than that, and I was surprised to see that. It feels like it was written in the 1970s or the early 80s when I graduated high school first went to college. Novakovich does seem to make the buyer's assumption that his readers are all well-versed in what English professors call the world's literary canon. He draws most all of the examples from "classics of literature" the kind of books taught in high school and college English classes. I would really recommend you read some of these books and then read this book, then, and only then, will want to Haley Ephron's "the everything book on writing your first novel. I would take my reading list from the back pages of "reading like a writer," by Francine Prose. Then read this book. But if you really don't want to do that, you only want to read "genre"/popular fiction. Then you can start with the book by Haley Ephron and read her book list. But I really think that if you are serious about wanting to learn fiction writing and cannot take a live workshop class that you should start here with Novakovich's "Fiction Writers Workshop" you should read the chapters and do at least two of the exercises attached to each chapter. Novakovich writes this book as though you are in his workshop class, but he teaches you to critique your own writing, since he will not be there. That is the most important skill that a writing mentor can teach.

[Zhelana · Rating 3 out of 5]

I think I'm getting to a point with all these creative writing workshop type books where nothing new can be said. Everyone is repeating the same advice as the last 10 authors I read. Perhaps it is time to stop reading writers workshop type books at least for a while. That said, the first several chapters of this book were good, but it had diminishing goodness as it went on. The writing in the chapters seemed repetitive from other books I've read, but there were some good (and some really good in the first chapters) exercises that the author came up with. I probably could have avoided reading the book and just done the writing exercises and come away with just as much from this book. Anyway, I'll give it 3 stars for the writing exercises even though the text wasn't that great. I think maybe I'm going to read a book about a different art instead of writing now.

[Candace Haskell · Rating 4 out of 5]

Fiction Writer's Workshop was an extremely useful text I used for a Writer's Digest course. The author does an excellent job of describing the various elements of good fiction and how to practice them. The best part is the assignments he gives at the end of each chapter, challenging the would-be-writer to actually write, to self-edit and to improve. Also included are eight literary short stories used as examples, which are then again followed by challenging writing assignments. This book can easily be used independently of an instructor - for beginning or for more advanced writers who need a good goosing to get going after a dry spell.

[ken · Rating 3 out of 5]

My reading this was primarily an exercise in defamiliarization and to see examples for description, setting-building, etc. in other novels and to build up my ever-growing pile of books to read. This text is great too because it comes with writing exercises. Unfortunately at most, the advice given towards Pacing is minimal, and since I am still Pacing's bitch, guess I'll still have to struggle in working through it.

[Molly Montgomery · Rating 5 out of 5]

I am planning on using this for teaching an intro to fiction course. It definitely has a lot of useful tips and exercises even for experienced writers. My favorite part of this book is the short anthology of short stories at the end with explanations highlighting different aspects of the stories that work well.

[Galena · Rating 5 out of 5]

Изключително полезна книга. Защото някои неща, колкото и да са ясни, просто трябва да ти бъдат казани, за да ги осъзнаеш наистина. Не бих се разделила с тази книга. Ще се връщам към написаното честичко. Упражненията ми бяха итересни, отделях им максимално време, но някои от тях си оставих за по-нататък. :)

[Mark Mathes · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is a useful book and handy reference for beginning and advanced fiction writers. The author organizes well, starting with Setting, Character, Plot, POV, Dialogue, Scene, Beginnings and Endings and Description. Exercises and examples are helpful.

[Dominique Dixon · Rating 4 out of 5]

It was an easy read and the way humor is used made the reading fun. The exercises at the end of each chapter help to retain the information provided in the previous chapter. It's a book I will continue to reference on my fiction writing path.

I would recommend it to anybody.

[Pippa · Rating 3 out of 5]

Published in 1995 this is now quite out of date, but a lot of it is still useful.