Chief Editor M. Neff

When it comes to rewriting, a writer must make hard choices. Fitzgerald warned us writers about the danger of becoming way too attached to something you’ve written. "Keep an objective eye on the whole piece," he says, "and if something isn’t working get rid of it." In a 1933 Saturday Evening Post article titled “One Hundred False Starts,” he writes: I am alone in the privacy of my faded blue room with my sick cat, the bare February branches waving at the window, an ironic paper weight that says Business is Good, my New England conscience–developed in Minnesota–and my greatest problem: “Shall I run it out? Or shall I turn back?” Shall I say: “I know I had something to prove, and it may develop farther along in the story?” Or: “This is just bullheadedness. Better throw it away and start over.” The latter is one of the most difficult decisions that an author must make. To make it philosophically, before he has exhausted himself in a hundred-hour effort to resuscitate a corpse or disentangle innumerable wet snarls, is a test of whether or not he is really a professional. There are often occasions when such a decision is doubly difficult. In the last stages of a novel, for instance, where there is no question of junking the whole, but when an entire favorite character has to be hauled out by the heels, screeching, and dragging half a dozen good scenes with him. ________________________________ [url={url}]View the full article[/url]

What should be percolating in the aborning author's mind from the very start? Purpose and Passion A few basic questions first. Why are you writing a novel? For reasons of ambition or ego? Well, why not? Most of us, in one way or another, nourish the ego. We want recognition, validation, a chance to prove our ability to others and thereby rise above. In truth, we may need to prove something to ourselves, or more simply, gain a degree of independence from an unsatisfactory mode of existence. We might require purpose, a sacred mission, a desire to fill our lives with a pursuit that restores us to life, and what better way to achieve than by writing a novel? Regardless, be honest with yourself, mull over your answers even before the first steps are taken. Lastly, also consider writing a novel because you have something of value you wish to say. A potent concept, alien to many. You might desire to expose a social injustice, reanimate a unique historical circumstance, or perhaps reveal a new world of experience. Whatever your subject or genre, the realization it must be said, and only you can say it, gifts you with passion. ____________ Core Values and Admonitions Aborning authors must consider themselves apprentices to the craft and study of novel development, editing, and writing. The Epiphany Light must be entered. A new viewpoint must replace the old. The "Art of Fiction" must be learned. Passionate writers fail to become published either because they do not sufficiently understand the art, or are unwilling to make those compromises necessary to satisfy it. See Reasons Why Passionate Writers Fail. Authors must demonstrate a degree of mastery suitable to their chosen genre; and in order to do that, they must become intimately familiar with their genre. _____ Now that you've absorbed the above, we'll bridge from that last bullet over to Best Ten Steps for Starting the Novel. ________________________________

If you've won a Pulitzer you might consider disregarding the advice in this section, but it's not advisable. No article here at NOWE could be more representative of the Algonkian model-and-context method of novel writing than this. Look at the percentage of authors on the shelf right now who create a character in the hook (first 10 to 15 pages) that will engage reader sympathy, and without hesitation. Quite a few? A novel hook with an interesting, unique, and sympathetic character makes agents sit up and take notice. This is vital to avoiding a rejection slip, but of course, all must be accomplish in artful fashion. A few examples of what we're talking about as follows. The name of the character in question follows the title and author. Note that All of the factors listed appear in the first 10 to 15 pages. The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-Time by Mark Haddon Christopher John Francis Boone - A first-person narrative from an autistic 15-year-old protagonist: "My name is Christopher John Francis Boone. I know all the countries of the world and their capital cities and every prime number up to 7,057." - He finds a dead dog with a garden fork sticking out of it and describes the scene in a detached, emotionless manner, until: "I had been hugging the dog for four minutes when I heard screaming." So this autistic child has a heroic capacity for caring and sympathy. He tells us he likes dogs because they are faithful and "they do not tell lies because they cannot talk." This gives us a sense that the character is moral--which becomes all the more poignant and sympathetic when he is unjustly accused by police of killing the dog. - He decides to write a murder mystery about the incident. When his teacher Siobhan suggests that a murder mystery about a human might be more compelling, the boy protests that some dogs are cleverer and more interesting than some people. Steve, for example, who comes to the school on Thursdays, needs help to eat his food and could not even fetch a stick ... Thus the protagonist is revealed as a keen and objective observer of the world around him, and in hilarious fashion. Summary - Talented and unique - Possesses a handicap - Shows compassion towards others - Possesses a moral sense - Undertakes a challenging task that requires brains and bravery ____________________________ The First Five People You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom Eddie Eddie is a wounded war veteran, an old man who has lived, in his mind, an uninspired life. His job is fixing rides at a seaside amusement park. The protagonist is old and infirm, yet polite and optimistic. - As a kid, he fought to protect his older brother. Scrappy, brave, and protective. - He likes kids, and they like him. He gives them candy and makes animal figures for them from pipe cleaners. These children are not the offspring of relatives or friends. They are kids that know him from the amusement park where he works. It is hard not to be sympathetic toward someone who likes kids and is kind to them. - He is generous. He gives his last two $20 bills to a dishwasher so the man can buy something for his wife. -. On his 83rd birthday, a tragic accident kills him as he tries to save a girl from a falling cart. Summary - Possesses a handicap - Protects the weak/shows courage - Generosity and compassion towards others - Brave and self-sacrificing ____________________________ The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd Lily Owen Anecdote in fictive past: When Lily was four, she witnessed a fight between her mother and her father and intervened when she saw a gun in her mother's hand. In the scuffle of the fight, the gun went off; Lily was blamed for her mother's death. Anecdote in fictive present: Lily awakens her father to see the spectacle of swarming bees in her room. When they arrive in her room the bees have vanished and her father, a mean and uncaring man, threatens to severely punish her if she ever again awakens him to anything less than finding the house in flames. Physical descriptions: Lily's hair is black, like her mother's, but is cowlicky and she looks unkempt because she's never had a woman in her life who could guide her in how to take proper care of herself. She's a fourteen-year old white girl, has almost no chin, but does have Sophia Loren eyes, even though this attribute isn't enough to get her noticed by even the loser-guys. She wears ill-fitting clothes she makes for herself in home ec. class at school because her father won't let her buy any new clothes. Personal Attributes: She's clever, imaginative and bright. The swarm of bees fascinates, rather than frightens her. One of her teachers tells her that she's very intelligent and she shouldn't settle for any career short of being a professor or writer. This sets her to reevaluating possibilities in her life because, prior to this, her highest aspiration had been to attend beauty school and become a hairdresser. Summary - Brave and self-sacrificing - Victim of an antagonistic personality - Pitiable due to struggle to compensate for abusive antagonist - Possesses special gifts ____________________________ The Life of Pi by Yann Martel Piscine Molitor Patel General Background: He was raised in Pondicherry, India, the small, formerly French-occupied section of India, at a zoo where his father was founder, owner, director, head of a staff of fifty-three, and which Piscine viewed as "paradise on earth." He was educated at the University of Toronto where he double-majored in religious studies and zoology. General Concern: The first two lines in the book, bring instant concern for him: "My suffering left me sad and gloomy," and goes on to say, "Academic study and the steady, mindful practice of religion slowly brought me back to life." Attitude toward Life: He has suffered a great deal in life, and reports and he has learned to adjust to the pain of being alive by accepting both the folly of success and the slight one feels when success slips from reach. He concludes that the reason death always hovers nearby is because of its love for life and we get the sense he loves life. He appreciates the abundance of resources he has access to and we're to assume this is a love cultivated through great deprivation. Personal Attributes: He's a hard-working, determined person who is very bright, very observant, and infinitely patient. He was the only one in his family who learned how to swim, but he was determined to learn because of his great respect for the man who wanted to teach him and who was responsible for his name, which he shares with a famous Paris swimming pool. He excelled in school and while gathering data for his degree in zoology, he concentrated on observing the sloth in its natural habitat because, "... its demeanour—calm, quiet and introspective—did something to soothe my shattered self." Summary - Victim of "suffering" - He's a fighter - Introspective/observant/wise - Unique personality ____________________________ Bel Canto by Ann Patchett Roxane Coss Special Attributes: Roxane is a gifted opera diva. She possesses a voice of crystalline clarity so richly textured everyone who hears her sing can instantly appreciate the wonder and beauty of her vocal talent. It matters little the background of the listener. They may have come to her performance with a well-trained ear or they may have no more understanding of music than can be gathered from a life spent slogging through the mud of a harsh jungle environment; they may have been listening to music all their long-lived lives, or they may be young children staying up past their bedtimes; they may be women, men or adolescents—no matter, gratitude for having heard her is universal among those who have had the privilege of hearing her perform. Reactions of Others: Men desire her. All of the men in attendance at the concert long to be included in the kiss given her in the dark by her accompanist. One of the most powerful businessmen in Japan has flown half-way around the world to be in her presence even as he dislikes traveling, dislikes celebrating his birthday and the occasion is his birthday, and dislikes being with large groups of people he doesn't know, which is the current venue. Over the five years that he's been aware of her talent, he has sought out her performances around the world. She obviously has a magnetic pull on people. Her accompanist willingly places himself as a shield between her and the invading guerrillas. Not until he is poked with guns does he relinquish his protective covering of her body. Physical Attributes: On the floor, her hair spread out around her in such a wondrous array, each terrorist makes a point of walking past her just to look at her beautiful hair. Her perfume is delicate yet intoxicating, again noticeable by the guerrilla soldiers even on this night when the air is pungent with the near-presence of death. Personal Attributes: She is generous with her talent and offers to sing in the dark before the assembled audience becomes aware of the horror of the circumstance they're in. As she lies on the floor, she removes the hairpins from her hair and places them on her stomach in case others can use them as weapons, giving us a sense that she is also a bit brave, another sympathetic character trait. Summary - Unique talent/accomplished - Magnetic presence - Cherished by Others - Generous - Courageous ____________________________ Third Degree by Patterson and Gross San Francisco Homicide Lieutenant Lindsay Boxer - The protagonist is a successful woman in a traditionally male occupation (homicide detective), and she has earned the respect of her male colleagues. - She owns a dog and talks to it as if it were a roommate. She uses her body to shield the dog from harm in a dangerous situation. - She is brave; she goes into a burning building to save strangers. She risks her life to save a young child. ____________________________ ________________________________ View the full article

Before the novel, there was drama... Ancient dramatists understood the requirements of a good tale, one in which willful human beings engaged in major conflict, the goal being to possess or achieve something of value. A designated character, by virtue of position and personality, became the antagonist, naturally defying the efforts of the protagonist, or hero, to overcome. This basic conflict scenario resurfaces again and again in a myriad of forms, not only in life, but in novels, short stories, and of course, film and television. What makes true dramatic conflict so universally effective is not only its ability to create tension, suspense, and powerful characters, but its unique method for portraying the need for value in human existence. Below we've created a drama primer with quotes ("European Theories of the Drama") from three important dramatists to illustrate the nature of the drama and it's overwhelming relevancy to novel writing discussion here at WE. It's all pretty simple and brief, actually, but the major points are invaluable to the novel writing mindset. KEY CONCEPTS: calamity, value in human life, universal human desire, dramatic art, essential character of drama, the "discovery," the wound, social conflict, the enlightenment of tragedy, tragic flaw, fear and pity. J. W. Krutch ― Its action [drama] is usually, if not always, calamitous, because it is only in calamity that the human spirit has the opportunity to reveal itself triumphant over the outward universe which fails to conquer it. ― Tragedy reveals value in human life … The death of a loved character, for example, reveals a value, something worth cherishing about life or humanity. ― Art should, at least in part, satisfy the universal human desire to find in the world some justice, some meaning, or at the very least, some recognizable order. ― The highest dramatic art is not achieved by pitting the most gigantic will against the most absolute necessity. The agonized struggle of a weak will, seeking to adjust itself to an inhospitable environment, may contain elements of poignant drama. ― The essential character of drama is social conflict in which the conscious will, exerted for the accomplishment of specific and understandable aims, is sufficiently strong to bring the conflict to a point of crisis. ― Drama should lead up to and away from a central crisis, and this crisis should consist in a discovery by the protagonist which has an indelible effect on his or her thought and emotion and completely alters his or her course of action. Arthur Miller For Arthur Miller, the underlying struggle is that of the individual attempting to gain his or her "rightful" position in society. "Sometimes he is the one who has been displaced from it, sometimes one who seeks to attain it for the first time, but the wound from which the inevitable events spiral is the wound of indignity." It is this "tragic flaw," this unwillingness to remain passive in the face of what she or he conceives to be a challenge to personal dignity, that causes the protagonist to initiate the action of the tale, i.e., the rising drama. If the struggle of the protagonist is just, if she or he contests for a fair evaluation, then those conditions which deny this reveal a wrong, or an evil in the world. Thus, the "enlightenment of tragedy." Pathos is achieved in struggling for a goal that cannot possibly be won, however possible it seemed in the beginning. John Dryden Insofar as the protagonist is concerned, the primary emotional reactions on the part of the reader are fear and pity. Fear during the course of the drama that the protagonist will meet a tragic fate, and pity for the protagonist at such time this occurs. Pity, or sympathy, cannot occur unless the character is respected. Thus, it is true concern for the protagonist that produces the highest emotion. ___________ ________________________________ [url={url}]View the full article[/url]

You begin your first novel with equal parts ignorance and false optimism. Many months, or even years later, you finally learn the enormity of your mistakes. Those popular writer magazines and the sociable little group of amateur writers that looked like a great plan, at first, now appear unreliable and even time wasting. At this juncture, you will either deny reality, quit altogether, or else vow to become a true and humble apprentice to the art of novel writing. Ne confondez jamais une seule défaite avec une défaite finale. - F. Scott The process above is nearly inevitable for the vast majority of aspiring authors, and only the eternal narcissist is incapable of achieving a productive second stage. We've discussed this subject more than once. Of course, such a personality will always disagree and fume like a child, but what about less volatile, less serious forms of counterproductive ego? About a year past, a screenplay writer I knew who lived in Kalamazoo called and asked me to help him convert his screenplay into a novel. I'd known this fellow for years (let's call him BOB) and he'd won various contests, even had a thriller-action screenplay optioned a few times by major studios, including Lions Gate. Nonetheless, he decided one day to convert one of his script creations into a full blown commercial novel, and intended to accomplish this incredible transformation in no less than six months. After all, he needed to make haste in order to attend a writer conference in Seattle where he felt reasonably certain a "smart agent" would sign him. Now, I knew that Bob wasn't a narcissist as such. I'd been present when he accepted critique, and I'd been around him and talked with him enough that I would have seen the N flag raised more than once. Like other writer workshop leaders and teachers, I possess a fairly good sense for narcissist eruptions in the making, even in the early stages. But this wasn't Bob's way, as I've noted. However, upon speaking with him on the phone about his forced novel conversion deadline (keep in mind, he knew zip about novel writing), he reacted with disbelief. He could not grasp that transforming a 96 page screenplay into an 86,000+ word novel could actually take longer, perhaps far longer than six months. Even if he were already a veteran novel writer working under the best of circumstances, it would most likely take eight to 12 months to augment and gilt a sufficiently suitable masterpiece. But as a rank beginner, we must assume that between the clueless planning and actual execution (that would include at least three major revisions), then a final editorial scalding of one kind or another (barring any Oh-Shit-I-Neglected-to-do-XYZ), Bob was looking at a minimum of two years, but perhaps upwards of four or more. If he devoted full-time and worked closely with a professional novel editor, page by page, scene by scene, line by line, perhaps only one year? But the dollar cost would be tremendous. Regardless, Bob avoided me after that phone conversation for a long time. I emailed him, inquired now and then, but he would always sound optimistic without divulging details. Finally, more than four years later, we got together one night for dinner. He was excited to tell me he'd written a new thriller with a major Hollywood producer behind it, and when I inquired about the novel conversion, he just shook his head and said, "I've moved on." Via a few other bits of information reluctantly delivered, I surmised that Bob had finally assembled a creaking shipwreck of a manuscript within a year's time, sent it out to agents, and following 50 or more boilerplate rejections, the ms finally served as cheap tinder for the living room fireplace. The above is one of my stand-out examples, but there are many. These writers in question were not narcissists as such, no, but their egos just couldn't allow them to believe they were wrong in certain crucial circumstances, or accept they did not yet possess the necessary skill-set to accomplish the huge task before them. ________________________________ [url={url}]View the full article[/url]

Have you ever been in writer workshops and reacted to criticism of your writing or story by demanding the other writer defend their decision in such detail that it served your purpose of making certain they never gave you unfavorable critique again? Hell hath no fury like a thin-skinned narcissist with a needy manuscript... But wait! Could you be one of them? In case you're not sure if your skin qualifies, Algonkian psychologists have developed a few skin test questions below. Feel free to respond honestly to yourself as you read each one. Everyone wishes to avoid time-wasting instances of Offended Writer Syndrome (OWS) that often takes place in writer workshops all across America. Even at this very moment! Now, time to take THE THIN SKIN TEST: Has any writer ever prefaced their critique of your work by first saying to you, "Don't hate me, please?" Do you sense that writers who unfavorably critique your work are "loading the gun" and taking aim? Do you rush to defend your work when a reader gives you criticism rather than absorb and weigh it carefully? Do you feel a need to say unkind things about a writer's work if you perceive she or he was unkind to you first? Have you ever chastised any writer for what you consider to be improper or incorrect critique of your work? Have you ever been in writer workshops and reacted to criticism of your writing or story by demanding the other writer defend their decision in such detail that it served your purpose of making certain they never gave you unfavorable critique again? Do you receive critique you oppose in good humor, but routinely seek the negation of it from those you know will agree with your version of reality? Do you feel a bout of OWS coming on after reading the above questions? If you answered yes to three or more of the above questions, writer workshops are definitely not for you. Please discontinue attending such events. They won't help you and you can't help but make them less productive for everyone else. You might even make *yourself* miserable. ___ ________________________________ [url={url}]View the full article[/url]

The literary science of accomplishing exposition is set in stone. The inexperienced writer dumps it like rocky weights on the reader's head (or not at all).The experienced author delivers at the right time and place, fusing it within the narrative flow so as to avoid the appearance of artifice. But wait, let's provide a simple definition before going further: "exposition" is that sum of information which must be delivered to the reader to enable them to fully understand the plot of the novel going forward. Generally speaking, the reader learns exposition in a similar manner to the way life teaches it, e.g., upon moving into a new neighborhood, you learn the background history of the neighbors a bit at a time. They tell you about themselves, and others, as circumstances and conditions permit. By combining these fragments, you are finally able to perceive the entire picture of neighborhood society. The example above should give us a clue as to the best methods for delivering exposition. Here we arrive at classic SHOW, DON'T TELL situation. Consider plays and screenplays. How do the writers of these fictional products deliver exposition? Primarily via characters engaging in expositional dialogue at the right time and place (see novel examples below with Gatsby and Sun Also Rises). NOTE: keep in mind that most if not all major exposition MUST be delivered to the reader by the time the FIRST MAJOR PLOT POINT arrives (usually within the first 50 pages or earlier). It only makes sense. The reader must understand the backstory and exposition before the course of the plot changes and creates the major rising action of the tale. If this doesn't take place it would be equivalent of a friend telling you about the car accident she had yesterday, beginning the story by saying: "And then the car exploded and I was taken to the hospital." Doesn't work. You have no context, no backstory. Where had she been driving? What caused the explosion? etc. Below are a few character and narrative techniques for delivering exposition. From The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald Nick, the narrator and friend of Gatsby, has been dating Jordon Baker, a friend of Daisy. Using Jordon in a scene dedicated to expositional purposes, the author conjures up Daisy's past by means of dialogue and narrative, thus revealing that Gatsby was a former boyfriend of Daisy's (surprise) while further exposing the nature of Daisy's marriage to Tom, including notes on his infidelity. The past of the major characters is revealed, the present given orientation, and as a bonus, the novel's major source of dramatic tension is further advanced (i.e., Gatsby's attempt to renew his relationship with Daisy), and suspense increased thereby. NOTE: F. Scott uses anecdotal recollection and dialogue with a minor character to deliver exposition on the major characters. It seems natural, of course, since Jordon is involved with Nick, the narrator, and at the same time involved in the lives of Tom and Daisy. She serves F. Scott as the perfect vehicle for delivering expo, arguably existing in the novel solely for this purpose. Authors of novels, plays and screenplays, almost always create characters to deliver exposition at the right time and place. From One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey In Scene 12 of One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest (btw, the bestselling American novel of all time), a conversation takes place between McMurphy, the protagonist, and Harding, one of the more intelligent patients. In this scene which begins the first major plot point, Harding delivers a final dose of exposition on the insidious workings of the asylum wherein they are imprisoned. It all boils down to one thing: if one doesn't cooperate with the therapy sessions and provide answers to questions in a suitable manner, he is labeled "Uncooperative," and if irritation is finally demonstrated, relabeled "Potential Assaultive" and immediately whisked off to the Disturbed Ward where a final fate of electro-shock awaits if cooperation isn't achieved. According to Harding: Once the above is accomplished, the reader finally understands the dangers and insidious workings of the asylum environment, thereby establishing concern for McMurphy once he announces he will challenge the authorities and make a game of it. His announcement is the foundation of the first major plot point. From The Sun Also Rises by Hemingway The narrator and main character, Jake, meets up with Robert Cohn, a friend who has become enamored with his Jake's love, Brett Ashley. The following dialogue, crackling with tension, aids in characterizing the narrator and Cohn, providing a foreshadow of Cohn‘s temper yet to come. Hemingway also uses this scene for the same purpose as Kesey in Scene 12 above: the final exposition we need to understand is delivered here and the first major point begins, i.e., at this point, the story transitions effectively to Robert Cohn's ongoing pursuit of Ashley. "What do you know about Lady Brett Ashley, Jake?" "Her name is Lady Ashley. Brett‘s her own name. She‘s a nice girl," I said. "She‘s getting a divorce and she‘s going to marry Mike Campbell. He‘s over in Scotland now. Why?" "She‘s a remarkably attractive woman." "Isn‘t she?" "There‘s a certain quality about her, a certain fineness. She seems to be absolutely fine and straight." "She‘s very nice." "I don‘t know how to describe the quality," Cohn said. "I supposed it‘s breeding." "You sound as though you liked her pretty well." "I do. I shouldn‘t wonder if I were in love with her." "She‘s a drunk," I said. "She‘s in love with Mike Campbell, and she‘s going to marry him. He‘s going to be rich as hell some day." "I don‘t believe she‘ll ever marry him." "Why not?" "I don‘t know. I just don‘t believe it. Have you known her a long time?" "Yes," I said. "She was a V.A.D. in a hospital I was in during the war." "She must have been just a kid then." "She‘s thirty-four now." "When did she marry Ashley?" "During the war. Her own true love had just kicked off with the dysentery." "You talk sort of bitter." "Sorry. I didn‘t mean to. I was just trying to give you the facts." From Wise Blood by Flannery O'Connor During the course of narrative in the beginning of the novel, a triggering device subtly begins an associative process in the mind of the major character that redirects the narrative flow towards exposition of his life. The character is riding on a train: An artful obscuring of the author‘s purpose occurs when the exposition is partially "masked." In this particular case, a form of masking is accomplished by fixating the reader's attention with narrative so engaging that nothing but the subject at hand matters. For example, no sooner is the grandfather recalled in the coffin than Flannery O‘Connor animates the corpse, making it appear as though it will suddenly rear up and prevent death from closing down on it. The author thus seeds the exposition with a provocative image to counterbalance. The character's past can now be discussed via berth to coffin. He wanders a dreamscape that reveals items of backstory. To later resume the non-expositional narrative, another triggering device is used to transit the reader back to the present. The character finds himself going to sleep in an old house. His thoughts conjure the image of his mother in a coffin, and then, himself in the coffin in her stead: "From inside he saw it closing." Abruptly he awakens, frightened, but safe in his berth on the train. The character has left the expositional dream and returned to novel reality. _______________ ________________________________ [url={url}]View the full article[/url]

From the desk of Jeff Lyons. The last decade has given birth to the biggest revolution in the printed word since the invention of movable type. The convergence of software technology, legacy print publishing, and the Internet has leveled the playing field and given most people the ability to read, write, and distribute the printed word on unprecedented scales. Now, anyone with the will to write can find an audience, publish their work, and make a life for themselves as an authorpreneur. Along with this self-publishing revolution has come a series of mini-revolts. One of those involves a major shift in the traditional way novels have been adapted for the screen. Creative writers of every stripe are now searching for a way into the ever-growing ocean of print and e-books. Among them are screenwriters hoping to leverage a prose fan base in order to, ironically, get their original script ideas sold as movies or television programs. A Changing Industry Traditionally published novels have always been a lucrative source of literary properties for the entertainment industry. But in the last decade, more and more self-published books have joined the page-to-screen trend and are responsible for building some of the biggest entertainment franchises, supporting billions of dollars in global box office revenue [e.g., Amanda Brown's Legally Blonde, E.L. James's Fifty Shades of Grey, Andy Weir's The Martian]. While this fits with the familiar pattern of adapting books to film (or TV), something else is happening, something that was not possible prior to the self-publishing revolution: Screenwriters are adapting their screenplays to novels, so that they can attract producers to option those adaptations for film/TV development. Yes, you read that right: Rather than writing the book first, then optioning to a production company, and then writing the screenplay based on the book, the trend now is script first, then book, and next the option sale, followed by a rewrite or full-on purchase of the original script that started the process. In many ways, the old model of adaptation has been turned on its head. There are many reasons for this new mini-revolt among screenwriters, not the least of which is that selling a screenplay or teleplay is nearly impossible, even for experienced screenwriters. But with more producers and production companies scouring the self-publishing world for material, it only makes sense that screenwriters should want to dust off all their old screenplays and jump into the adaptation game. Why? Because a novel with a built-in audience makes a sounder investment than a spec script coming in over the agent transom or through the conventional script pipeline. This has always been true for traditionally published novels, and now it is increasingly true for self-published books. What this means is that a new sales channel has opened for screenwriters wanting to leverage their work in multiple distribution windows: film, television, and print. And even if the movie/TV windows fall short, the writer still has the print/e-book property to fall back on. It's win-win for writers. How to Adapt? So, screenwriters should just write a "book“ right? How hard can writing a novel be? There are tons of how-to books on the market with tips, tricks, and "top 10 secrets" for knocking out a novel, so just go buy a book and start writing. Think again. Developing a true prose voice and bringing that prose sensibility to your writing, is daunting at best, and insanity-inducing at worst. This same bad advice is often given to novelists who want to write screenplays i.e., just do it. Yes, there are many how-to books on how to adapt novels to screenplays, and several now deal with how to adapt screenplays to prose. But anyone who writes screenplays will tell any novelist that there is a "screenplay sensibility" that has to be developed in order to write a professional screenplay. You just can't follow some cookie-cutter how-to book. The same is true for screenwriters trying to write their first novel. Developing a "prose voice," and bringing that prose sensibility to your writing, is daunting at best, and insanity-inducing at worst. I know, because I've just survived the process myself. As a screenwriter, I bought the books, and tried out the cookie cutter, and realized that because of our training, screenwriters face specific challenges that make us ill-equipped to handle novel-writing. Some of those challenges are story-development related, and others are writing-process related. But no how-to book, no story guru, and no "top 10 secrets" list can coach you through them. They can only be overcome by doing. Knowing the road ahead of you, before you start the adaptation process, can at least prepare you for the potholes, pitfalls, and hairpin turns you will encounter along the way. Here are the six basic hurdles you will need to clear as you learn the process of novel adaption. Mistakes to Avoid When You Adapt Prose sensibility vs. screenplay sensibility "Sensibility" is defined as "the ability to appreciate and respond to complex emotional or aesthetic influences." Screenwriters and novelists respond to that complexity very differently. The basic mantra for screenwriters is: - Keep it clear; - Less is more; - Show, don't tell; - Get to the emotional point, and move on; - Move fast and don't waste time with exposition beyond what you need to set the scene. The movie or the TV show is the finished product; a screenplay is not. Scripts are only one step in a complex chain of events leading to the final show or film. As a result, screenwriters don't write scripts for the reading experience (though they have to be written well). Yet the biggest issue for screenwriters-turned-novelists concerns what I call "story real estate." You have around 110 pages of story real estate for a feature film, and around 52 pages for an hour-long TV drama. Screenwriters don't have the luxury of story real estate to go long, or deep, or too complex in character development, emotional resonance, backstory, etc. Unlike with screenplays, novels are meant to be read, not produced, and the finished book is a final product, ready to be consumed by an audience. But prose is all about language, the written word, the musicality and rhythm of the sentence, paragraph, and chapter. Unlike with screenplays, novels are meant to be read, not produced, and the finished book is a final product, ready to be consumed by an audience. In fact, there are many novels with weak or non-existent stories that captivate readers solely on the power of the written word (In Search of Lost Time, Marcel Proust; Lectures in America, Gertrude Stein). This would never happen with a screenplay; having a weak story, or worse, no story, equals an immediate "pass" from anyone in the industry. So the mantra for novelists is: - Show, don't tell, but exposition is your friend, and a necessary one; - You have no strict length constraints, so write, write, write; - Go deep, go long; leave no emotional stone unturned. - Story real estate is never an issue. Sure, you may have some constraints with publishers in terms of page count, but novels have no set limits based on time constraints (unlike a 52-minute drama or a two-hour feature film). Ironically, however, having no constraints can be as crippling a liability as having too-tight constraints. Which is more frightening: looking into a yawning abyss, or into a six-foot trench? Novelists face this abyss and can find themselves paralyzed. So screenwriters and novelists see the world of storytelling in very different ways, and have very different observing devices for interpreting their fictional worlds. Shifting from a screenwriting sensibility to a prose sensibility is the hardest hurdle you will face and also the most difficult one to wrap your head around. It can only be accomplished by writing prose and having your writing critiqued by great readers and other prose writers. It's a school of hard knocks, I'm afraid. Novel-writing is a brand-new craft; a new skill set must be learned. Invest in good teachers, and never use screenwriters as your beta readers. You need feedback from people who are voracious book readers, not film/TV fans. Point of View, Voice, & Tense The next hurdle is one that ties every writer into knots: point of view (POV), narrative voice, and tense. Screenwriters don't have to worry about any of this, because screenplays are all written in third person and present tense (though dialogue might have some first person voiceover), and narrative voice in scripts is conveyed mostly through character dialogue, not exposition. The voice of the work lies completely in the spoken word. For novelists, however, POV, tense, and narrative voice are complicated and intricately tied to the writing. (See "POV and Voice: A Novelist's Toolkit" for more information.) So, screenwriters have one POV, one tense, and a limited flexibility in narrative voice through dialogue, helped out occasionally by stylistic or colorful exposition. Novelists have at least five POVs, two tenses, and unlimited flexibility with voice. How does a screenwriter adapt to all this flexibility? Once again, it is all in the writing. You have to play with all of these options to see what works for the story, and this takes time and effort. Even novelists struggle with POV and tense. It is not unusual for novelists to write a book once in one POV/tense and then do a rewrite of the entire book that changes both POV and tense. Experiment, play around, and you'll find your way. Subplots AND Supporting Characters Subplots exist in screenplays, but not like they do in novels. Screenwriters have to learn the proper use of sub-plotting and how it plays into expanding supporting characters who have their own stories within the story. There are many different kinds of subplots (i.e., the need subplot, expositional or background subplot, thematic subplot (to name just a few), but most screenwriters are used to just one or two subplots. (Very few screenwriters know how to weave multiple storylines together to support a mainline narrative, and these are almost always employed in films with large ensemble casts.) But even in a screenplay with a small cast and only one main storyline, multiple subplots will need to be created in the translation to prose. This is one of the key areas where screenplays always have to be expanded to accommodate the novel form, because subplots support the middle of the novel, and the middle is where most stories fall apart. Coming up with two, three, or four "sub-stories" from a screenplay that tells only one major storyline can be nerve-racking and intimidating, but this hurdle must be traversed if your screenplay is going to support a three- or four-hundred page narrative. But don't despair: look to key supporting characters and let your imagination run by giving them their own stories within the story. Just know that you will initially crack your shins on this hurdle. Narrative Scope Narrative scope refers to the complexity of the story form. In prose fiction, novelists have many "containers" to choose from: short story, novelette, novella, novel, and the series. Screenwriters also have various "containers" to choose from: feature film, series, hour-long drama, half-hour sitcom, and the short. Each screenplay format has its own peculiarities and requirements, and screenwriters are well aware of the constraints and demands for each. The same holds true for novelists. But screenwriters have to study prose forms in order to understand their oddities and demands before any adaptation is attempted. For example, each prose format has word count considerations that must be understood: short story (7,500 or less), novelette (7,500-17,000), novella (17,000-30,000), novel (30,000 and above). A screenwriter must learn to gauge which prose "container" is best suited to his or her screenplay and story. Reworking the Premise Adapting a novel to screenplay format always means deleting material and reducing the story to fit the constraints of film or TV. This often means reworking the original story so that it can fit the page limits of the script format under consideration (feature, hour-long drama, etc.). The same is true moving from script to novel. The screenplay's premise will almost always have to be reinvented to build in subplots, new action lines, and more complex story elements. The knee jerk is to use the script as a great outline for the book, i.e., follow the script's story beats and all will be well. This almost never works. In my opinion, no how-to book, no story guru, and no master class can really prepare you for jumping. However, if you can at least know what is waiting for you in the high grass, you can avoid surprises and prepare yourself so that your transition from script to novel becomes an encounter and not a confrontation. If you do not go into the adaptation process with a mindset that you will have to retool your story from the ground up, then you may be setting yourself up for major struggles down the development road. Showing and Telling vs. Show, Don't Tell Screenplays are about showing everything on the sleeve. There is some very minor telling (in the form of montages), but "show, don't tell" is a must in this purely visual medium. Yet novels allow for far more telling than showing. This is naturally difficult for screenwriters, because the script development process rejects long exposition and non-visual storytelling. Learning how to utilize lengthier exposition requires a whole new mindset. One of the telltale signs that the screenwriter is a novelist is that their exposition tends to be many paragraphs long - a kiss of death for any screenplay. In contrast, for screenwriters trying to write prose, the opposite is true; exposition tends to be short, curt, stunted, and in sentence fragments. The solution is not some simplistic strategy of writing in complete sentences and adding more words for the sake of volume. The key to success is learning how to leverage all the story real estate by going deeper into the motivations of your characters, finding lyrical ways of describing the story world, and luxuriating in writing that fills in the expositional holes of the story organically, using just the right amount of words. The two main potholes waiting for you here are rambling, overly detailed descriptions and purple prose (extravagant or ornate prose that breaks the narrative flow and screams "Isn't my writing clever?"). You will do both, so get over that anxiety. But you will ultimately find the balance between economy of words, meaningful content, and proper pacing. These are six important hurdles that must be leapt over in order to make your script a successful novel. In my opinion, no how-to book, no story guru, and no master class can really prepare you for jumping. However, if you can at least know what is waiting for you in the high grass, you can avoid surprises and prepare yourself so that your transition from script to novel becomes an encounter and not a confrontation. POV and Voice: A Novelist's Toolkit First-person (present/past) The story is told from the point of view of the "I" narrator, who only knows what she or he sees and experiences, so all feelings, questions, and internal thoughts are in the narrative voice of a unique individual. Third-person limited (present/past) The entire story is told through the viewpoint of one character, using the pronouns he or she. Third-person unlimited (present/past) The story is told through the viewpoints of two or more characters, with shifting points of view. Second-person (present/past) The story is told by the storyteller to another "person" using the word "you." This is the rarest POV used in fiction today. __________ Jeff Lyons is a published author, teacher, screenwriter, and story development consultant with more than 25 years of experience in the film, TV, and publishing industries. His book, Anatomy of a Premise Line, is published through Focal Press. Web: jefflyonsbooks.com. ________________________________ View the full article

As you explore the nooks and literary crannies here, you'll find considerable words devoted to warning you away from foolish and terrible advice. But what about professional, tested, and proven advice? Below are ten bullet points for aspiring authors designed to help them overcome any confusion or misdirection when it comes to starting the novel. However, before you investigate, make certain you've already prepared by first reading this *very* sensible prologue. Note: the list below makes an assumption that the writer is a relative novice and currently searching for direction and focus--the same stage we've all endured. For those in the second stage, or higher, the list might well begin further down. Nonetheless, we cannot stress enough how important it is to fully understand your genre. Eat and breathe it. Know the currents in the market, what makes for a "high concept" story in this context. You'll never be published otherwise. KEY CONCEPTS: genre, high concept, Publisher's Marketplace, self-editing, readers, core development strategies, craft and research, story premise, SATG Novel, novel hook, first draft outline, inciting incident, plot point. Choose Your Genre Historical, thriller, women's fiction, mystery cozy, etc. Focus on one that will consume you, one you have passion for. Passionless choice never bodes well (can you guess why?). If on the fence, consider what kind of author do you wish to be known as five years from now? A thriller author? Horror author? Mystery?... Makes a difference, no? So be specific and take a slot (no "slot" shaming). You are attempting to break into a crowded and tough marketplace with a breakout novel. As of this point, you have no real idea how difficult it will really be in a country as big as America. Best to begin wisely. WARNING: failing to locate yourself firmly in one genre will only result in failure. And believe us when we tell you that agents and publishers will be merciless in their demand that you understand and obey the rules of that genre. From the heart, but smart. One last thing--you cannot invent your own genre. Don't try. Don't even ask. For the love of all that is holy! Mercilessly Immerse Read the classics in your genre combined with the latest and hottest. Look up "best book" lists, read reviews on Amazon, dive into review journals dedicated to your genre, and obtain a membership at Publisher's Marketplace. It's never too early to familiarize yourself with who is publishing what in your genre. At PM it's all there. And no, we don't get a kickback. As a bonus, you get to review expertly written hook lines for new novels bought by publishers, thereby also getting a chance to note the type of high concept stories in the works. Invaluable! Truly. Via obsessive immersing, you'll also get an idea which authors and novels might compare favorably with you and your own work. Strongly consider analyzing story progression, character introduction, and scene development in three to five of the best in your genre. Take notes. Compare what you've learned to what you read here at NWOE. Avoid Writer Groups Do not join a local or online writer group, however socially alluring it may be, and regardless of what its apostles tell you. Don't fall for it. We know, it feels like the right thing because so many recommend it, but it's the wrong thing by a mile. You *might* consider it a year or two from now once you've developed enough novel writing savvy to actually know the difference between an amateur group that *might* be somewhat productive and one that could be potentially ruinous or time wasting at a minimum. Review carefully our notes on this crucial and controversial subject. Begin the Reader Hunt Following on above, attempt to engage upwards of five good readers, if humanly possible. It will take time to ID the right ones, so begin the hunt early. Take note, they will not be in a group. They will not meet to discuss your work. If possible, best they do not interact or know each other. This condition will disallow the inevitable evolution of group politics, groupthink, imagined slights, false flattery, etc. Yes, it can happen. Regardless, can your picks be reasonably trusted to provide generally intelligent reaction to your narrative? You might have to jettison a few. Be prepared. Additionally, serving as a reader for them will provide you with a form of editorial experience that might prove invaluable. IMPORTANT: utilize "beta readers" for narrative purposes only (prose style, clarity, imagery, dynamic motion, dialogue quality--that sort of thing), NEVER for novel development, i.e., premise, plot, character roles, important setting details, etc. Engaging in the latter imperiling act will only threaten your progress with those insidious major flaws inherent in 98% of writer groups. Study Self-editing Technique Do it carefully, it's an art form, even if you're not onto your second draft yet. No reason to delay. It takes experimentation and practice. Relying exclusively on your readers or future freelance editors is a mistake. Ultimately, you are responsible for the final product. Faith should not be necessary. Also, keep in mind, the more refined your fiction narrative waxes, the more productive the future editorial professionals engaged to review your work can be, i.e., if you've already ascended to level 8, they can bump you to level 10. Now, what about that contract? Craft Until Your Head Hurts While researching your genre, immerse simultaneously into your core novel development strategy. Don't rush it or fret over it. You will inevitably revise. Meanwhile, utilize NWOE as a staging platform for the illuminating pursuit of obligatory craft technique. This is NOT an option. Devour every single article or essay on development, drama, plotting, prose, and viewpoints. Set aside a space for experimentation. Practice writing scenes, dialogue, complex descriptions for starters. Additionally, consume only the best books on novel writing. You will ALWAYS be an apprentice to your craft. Let Truman Capote be an inspiration. Conceive Primary Premise Given that you've chosen your genre and you're well on your way to possessing a true literary skill set (it's not easy, so don't be impatient), and given you've taken careful note of the quality of new novels coming to life at Publisher's Marketplace (have you?), you may now begin to formulate your own novel premise, the "high concept" story that will form the development, writing, and marketing basis of your genre novel from title to last sentence. Uncertain on how to go about it? One way to initiate a bit of productive pondering is to visit the High Concept page first, followed by the Loglines and Core Wounds page. Read carefully. Note the three "hook line" examples. Consider WHAT WILL BE YOUR CORE CONFLICT, AND WHAT WILL BE THE CORE WOUND? (all caps for emphasis). Play with it. Write down options. Choose wisely. Seek discreet professional advice if necessary. Begin the Planning Process Engage in a careful examination of the Six Act Two-Goal Novel. With your embryonic story concept nearing the birth canal, use the SATG Novel outline to assist with beginning to conceive smaller parts of the bigger picture. At each separate stage, from Act to Act, take a deep breath and sketch ideas, circumstances, characters into your electronic notebook. Be free and easy with the process. Jot down everything that comes to mind. Keep in mind it's all in dynamic flux. It can change. Just as importantly, attempt to finalize insofar as possible your novel's major setting. Extremely important. Organize your thoughts, questions, commentary, and scenarios as needed. Have fun with it. Imagination is truly your best friend (even if you don't like the original Willy Wonka). Sketch a Draft Outline No need to engage in overmuch detail. Make certain your story premise is commercially viable and your chosen setting is simmering. Have on hand sketches of your major and secondary characters. Use the SATG to locate and ruminate over your major plot points. Sketch your inciting incident and first major plot point. Go from there to your first major reversal, pinch point, etc., all the way to climax. Keep in mind this is all a draft, yes, however it should reflect your efforts to date at fleshing out your genre story. Consider also, not just your basic plot but those special points, twists, and turns demanded by your chosen genre, e.g., if writing a cozy mystery you best get that body on the first page (or pretty close). Refer to steps 1 and 2 above. Draft Your Hook Scenes Don't think of the novel in units of chapter. Think of it as units of scene, each scene dedicated to a particular task, and each driving the plot forward (a must) in one way or another. I use the term "hook scenes" to refer to that combination of opening scenes that will lead us through the initial set-up to the inciting incident and from there to the first major plot point that begins the next Act of the novel--30 to 50 pages into the novel, roughly. There are always exceptions. Download the Algonkian Study Guide for necessary additional references and a breakdown of hook scenes up to and beyond the first major plot point in One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest (a favorite for the application of classic dramatic technique in the novel). _______________ [url={url}]View the full article[/url]

When considering your novel, whether taking place in a contemporary urban world or on a distant magical planet in Andromeda, you must first sketch the best overall setting and sub-settings for your story. Wasn't it F. Scott Fitzgerald who said something like, "Setting is 60% of what makes your novel stand out"? A great setting maximizes opportunities for interesting characters, circumstances, and complications, and therefore makes your writing life so much easier. Imagination is truly your best friend when it comes to writing competitive fiction, and nothing provides a stronger foundation than a great setting. One of the best selling contemporary novels in recent memory, THE HUNGER GAMES, is driven by the circumstances of the setting, and the characters are a product of that unique environment as well as the plot. But even if you're not writing SFF, the choice of setting is just as important, perhaps even more so. If you must place your upmarket story in a sleepy little town in Maine winter, then choose a setting within that town that maximizes opportunities for verve and conflict, for example, a bed and breakfast stocked to the ceiling with odd characters who combine to create comical, suspenseful, dangerous or difficult complications or subplot reversals that the bewildered and sympathetic protagonist must endure and resolve while he or she is perhaps engaged in a bigger plot line: restarting an old love affair, reuniting with a family member, starting a new business, etc. And don't forget that non-gratuitous sex goes a long way, especially for American readers. And not only must you choose the overall best setting, but you must consider sub-settings that come into play for particular scenes. For example, if your overall choice of setting is India, you have it made. You might choose a sub-setting for a scene that includes a particular village wherein a large snake is sleeping in a tree and thus creating an absurd spectacle in the form of an ongoing conflict between Muslims and Hindus over the spiritual meaning of the snake's behavior. Keep in mind, a great setting maximizes the potential for great characters, unique circumstances, and story complications of one kind or another. Of if your character is in Scotland on a cold and dull day, place him or her in a scene during a "blackening of the bride" ceremony wherein the future bride is trashed and sloshed with everything from tar to Scotch whiskey. Will your character have any internal issues with this? Yes? Whatever creates inner or interpersonal conflict is a bonus too, don't forget. If nothing else, create a setting or sub-settings that assist with the development of conflict between characters. If your character is an office worker in an otherwise stereotypical setting, place them in a special surprise meeting with certain types of ambitious, reckless or sociopathic personalities who combine to ignite an unavoidable moral dilemma. Set it up so that the tension crackles. Setting fixtures don't have to be inanimate! By the Way, Does Your Setting Possess the Following Qualities? Dynamic Evolution Over Time One might quibble over the difference here between "set-up" and "setting"... Suffice to say, the author chooses a setting (a time and a place) that comports with a plot allowing for story enhancing social, political, cultural, or character-focused evolution in the fictional environment. Consider a novel filled with quarreling and toppling kingdoms (GAME OF THRONES), or a terrible secret uncovered that generates a killing machine to grind one man down (THE FIRM), or the coming downfall of a whole way of life for millions (THE UNVANQUISHED). A New World of Wonder Publishers like it when your novel takes readers into a world they're unfamiliar with. The freshness of new places, climes, cultures, people and things creates an irresistable draw for many. Witness the the popularity of EAT, PRAY, LOVE. Would it have been so engaging if the character had not traveled to exotic climes, but instead ate, pray, and loved in Podunk, Idaho? THE KITE RUNNER is another example. A whole new world, way of life, characters we could never have met otherwise. The Potential for Energy Keep in mind, a great setting maximizes the potential for great characters, unique circumstances, and story complications of one kind or another. Now, any idea what might best suit as an example for this category? How about THE POISONWOOD BIBLE? An overzealous Baptist minister drags his wife and four daughters deep into the heart of the Congo on a mission to save the "unenlightened souls" of Africa. During this time, Belgium is about to give the country its independence, and a popular election will be held to select the new ruler. A purge of Westerners is expected once independence is won. All of this coupled with the presence of superstition and conflicting customs creates a dangerous and weirdly dynamic setting for the American mission family. Consider, would anyone have read this novel if the author, Barbara Kingsolver, had set the story in Canada? Perhaps, but the color and energy would be lost, certainly polar opposite of what Kingsolver's setting, in that time and place, allowed. Now, please go back over your settings and scenes and rewrite accordingly. You can't have too much energy or tension on the page. Be as aggressive with your work as possible. ____________ ________________________________ [url={url}]View the full article[/url]

Note, MARKET VALUE FIRST... Listed below are a summation of "coverage" checkpoints utilized by various screenplay and novel ms readers in both Hollywood and New York. Not every publisher intern or assistant will necessarily employ all these categories (a mistake), however, they're a great checklist for you, the aspring author, to help ascertain whether or not you're meeting your goals for a successful commercial genre novel. MARKET VALUE: Originality, freshness - high concept Clear target readership? Hook Quality STRUCTURE: Act Zero backstory development Exposition delivery Effective setup with inciting incident Plot line arc, and subplots (if appropriate) Well designed reversals (major and minor) Pinch points (at least two) Catalytic situation driven Conflict, tension, rising action, Every scene relevant (i.e., to driving plot forward) Effective, believable climax Resolution/Denouement CHARACTERS: Antagonist Quality and Role Consistent opposition Protagonist goals Sympathetic protagonist Protagonist arc Secondary character quality and roles NARRATIVE DEVELOPMENT: Scene length and structure Effective transitions and cliffhangers Quality prose narrative (genre appropriate) Tension on every page Dialogue mastery Narrative composition (quality of set and engaging circumstances) Cinematic imagery (both static and dynamic) Proper point-of-view Appropriate use of craft technique Interior Monologue and rumination ________________________________ View the full article

From Drab or Quiet to Can't Put It Down What's one of the best ways to ensure a publishing contract? Master the art of writing fiction narrative, of course. But what does that mean, and are you sure you know the difference between relatively quiet fiction narrative and verve-packed narrative? Are you setting your standards high enough? Are you aware of the level of craft and attention to detail that will make you a great writer with not only a solid career, but a huge number of conference appearances wherein you can, with little effort, and in front of hundreds of people, act like a legend in your own mind? Writers set standards for themselves, often ignorant of how high the standards need to be raised in order for them to be as competitive as possible in this current marketplace. Rather than tell, let's show examples of how to take somewhat ordinary, perhaps even vaguely interesting narrative, and make it as competitive and energetic as possible by adding imagery, metaphor, emotion, more active verbs and better sentence structure. And BTW, for this exercise we're going to channel Ray Bradbury and Eudora Welty at the same time in order to reach a final stage of pretty damn good. And don't let this freak you. They learned the hard way and took their lumps and rewrote a thousand times just like everyone else! Beginning with a hypothetical chunk of speculative-fiction narrative. Could this be a first draft? Let's hope so. The imagination needs a boost and the passive voice is obvious. No emotions or tension either, therefore characters flat. The writer could also benefit by injecting a bit more meaningful detail. THE ORIGINAL CHUNK (Good enough for Tor.Com) Senna and Father usually set the traps together, because it was she who had the knack of following animals to their habitat. Father was blind to it--he could never see the trails that marked the passage of his future meal. But to Senna, it was, and always had been, part of what her eyes could see. The newer the path, the easier she could see it. As a toddler, Senna had quickly learned what the signs meant: little leavings, like drops of water. Besides the wetness and the small size of the drops, there was a sort of colorful glimmer to each one. She could tell at a glance the difference between a human and an animal, or between the different species. MORE IMAGINATION AND COMPLEXITY ADDED (a second enhancement draft, good enough for authors with a huge fan base) Senna and Father usually set traps together, because it was Senna who possessed the knack of seeing paths the animals always used. Father was blind to it. He could never view the thin shimmering trails in the air that marked the passage of living creatures through the world. But to Senna, it was, and always had been, part of what her eyes could see. The newer the path, the bluer the shimmer; older ones were green or waned to yellow; the truly ancient ones tended toward red. As a toddler, Senna had quickly learned what the shimmering meant, because she could see everyone leaving trails behind them as they went. Besides the color, there was a sort of signature to each one, and over the years, Senna became adept at recognizing them. She could tell at a glance the difference between a human and an animal, or between the different species, and if she looked closely, she could sort out the tracks so clearly that he could follow the path of a single person or individual beast. MORE ACTIVE VERBS AND REFINED SENTENCES (third or fourth draft -- eliminating any last vestiges of passive voice) Senna and her father set the traps together, for Senna possessed the unique ability to see the trails of the animals they hunted. Father never saw the thin and shimmering trails in the air that marked the passage of living creatures through the world. His blindness to it seemed like a failure to him. But to Senna, her "trail eyes," as she called them, felt natural and effortless, always a part of her vision. The newer the path of the animal, the more blue the shimmer. Older ones glowed in hues of green or waned to yellow, and the truly ancient ones softened to a dark red. As a toddler, Senna quickly learned what the shimmering meant, because she saw everyone leaving trails behind them as they walked or ran. Besides the color, a signature of sorts attached to each one, and over the years, Senna became adept at recognizing them. She knew at a glance the difference between a human and an animal, or between the various species, and if she looked closely, she could sort out the tracks so clearly that following the path of a single person or individual beast came easily. MORE INFUSION OF IMAGINATION, NUANCE, AND EMOTION (draft five or six -- towards a major award - National Book or Nebula?) Senna and her father set the traps together, for Senna possessed the power to see the trails of the animals they hunted--often dangerous trails that led the two of them into wounding thickets or up the slick trunks of tamarand trees, following wild Cholu monkeys that set traps for predators like themselves. Father never saw the thin shimmering trails in the air, scattered all around and leading every which way, looking as if interweaving spiders had drawn impossibly gigantic webs-- only parts of which might be seen at any one time. He could not mark the passage of living creatures through the world, and his blindness to it felt like a failure to him. At times he found himself jealous of Senna, irritated by her instincts that contradicted his own hunting wisdom. But to Senna, her "trail eyes," as she called them, felt natural, her ability effortless and always part of her vision. The newer the path of the animal, the more blue the shimmer. Older ones glowed in hues of green or waned to yellow, and the truly ancient ones softened to a dark red. As a toddler, Senna quickly learned what the shimmering meant, because she saw everyone leaving trails behind them as they walked or ran. Besides the color, a unique scent attached to each one, and over the years, Senna became adept at recognizing them. Many a time her father watched in a befuddled daze as his daughter stooped to one knee and lightly sniffed the air, breathing in the molecules in one part per million infused with the gossamer thread of trail. To her, humans smelled a bit salty and raw, and most animals too, but with a scent of warm earth about them. She sorted the tracks so keenly with her eyes and nose that following the path of a single human or beast came easily. Father could only fume, or act amazed, depending on the hour and his mood. Senna avoided him if the mood darkened, and she feared that any further development of her power might make him feel even more obsolete and irritable, for her power grew each day. She knew that soon, she would detect the odors with her eyes alone, the hue of the trail invoking the scent within her. _______________ THE METHOD Do the analysis on the fiction narrative examples above and learn for yourself what it takes to make a huge difference in the quality of your writing. Note how the potential conflict with the father developed and caused complication and therefore tension, and note also the non-passive voice, and more importantly, the injections of imaginative imagery and circumstance, as well as more development of setting (e.g., the thickets, trees, monkeys, etc.). Experiment with gradually evolving your own block of sample narrative through the four stages. Be aggressive with your work. You'll be glad you did, and so will all your future readers. _______________ ________________________________ View the full article

From the Desk of Agent Richard Curtis ***** (Best of Writer's Edge) "The truth is that if all other things are equal, the author with better writing skills is the one who will rise out of the pack." As the stakes continue to rise in the publishing business, writers are adopting a wide range of strategies to advance themselves out of the midlist and onto better-selling plateaus. I myself have recommended a number of such strategies. Recently, however, as I respond again and again to the question of what one can do to escape midlist oblivion, it's begun to dawn on me that many writers have been ignoring the most obvious answer: write better. The truth is that if all other things are equal, the author with better writing skills is the one who will rise out of the pack. Instead of reviewing what's selling these days and who is buying it, I thought it might be worth reminding you about some of the most common and flagrant writing transgressions to be found in a typical harvest of fiction works that fetches up on my desk. I hasten to point out that the perpetrators are by no means mere amateurs, but professional writers as well, so let those who are without sin skip this article. I have to confess at the outset that as I was preparing my list, I realized that nobody has ever come up with a better formula for analyzing problem manuscripts than the boss I had in my apprentice days, Scott Meredith. Meredith created the "Plot Skeleton," which goes something like this: A sympathetic hero or heroine confronts an obstacle or antagonist, creating a conflict that must be credibly overcome through the protagonist's efforts. These efforts result in a triumphant resolution that is satisfying to the reader. Unsympathetic protagonists, inconsequential conflicts, and uninspired resolutions are the characteristics of most of the fiction that agents thrust into stamped, self-addressed envelopes and return to senders. I have made notes, however, on some other fundamental failures that personally turn me off, and I've boiled these deadly "sins" down to seven. I should add that the problems listed here are the kind that jump out at me so quickly that I can usually make a determination about a book containing them after only a few minutes of reading. Instead of reviewing what's selling these days and who is buying it, I thought it might be worth reminding you about some of the most common and flagrant writing transgressions to be found in a typical harvest of fiction works that fetches up on my desk. 1. The Sin of Lousy Dialogue. Many writers try to carry their books on narrative alone, leaving me hungry for some conversation. Often, when at last I do encounter dialogue, it's of a trivial "Hello, how are you?" "Fine, thank you" variety. By fanning a manuscript like a deck of cards, a professional agent or editor can instantly perceive a paucity of quotation marks. Or, if you like your torture slow, you can read page by page waiting for somebody to talk to somebody else. Dialogue is an invaluable fictional device, yet many writers believe they can tell a story with a minimum of it. A playwright once said that a good line of dialogue reveals something about the speaker, the person spoken to, and the person spoken about. Without dialogue, a work of fiction becomes a tract. A rapid scan of a manuscript often discloses the opposite problem, a book so replete with dialogue that it reads like a screenplay. In such books, the dialogue reveals little about anybody, because it's mostly talk, and you have to listen to endless conversations in the hope of seizing some nuggets of genuine story. It should be remembered that dialogue is not only a character-revealing device, it is also a form of action, but an excess of it will have the opposite effect. Those guilty of this particular shortcoming should ask themselves in what way a dialogue scene moves the story forward. If too slowly, or not at all, you're doing something wrong. Writers sometimes forget what dialogue sounds like when actually spoken, and they should therefore try speaking it aloud or performing it with another person. That way, they might avoid one of my all-time pet peeves, which might be described as, "What did you say your name was, dear? "John, we've been married for fifty years and you haven't given me flowers for the last thirty." "Gosh, Mary, I hadn't realized it." "It's true, John." "Well, Mary, I'll just have to do something about that. "I hope you will, John." etc. 2. The Sin of Inaction. I hate this one because it takes me so long to diagnose. I may have to read as much as half of a manuscript before I realize that nothing, in fact, is happening. This is also the most heartbreaking failure in terms of wasted time and talent, particularly when you realize that it is the most avoidable. Most of the time, it's the result of poor outlining or no outlining at all. By synopsizing your work before you begin, you will readily detect soft spots in your story. A common offshoot of this problem is often found in mystery novels. I call it the "travel fallacy." After a crime is committed, our protagonist picks up a clue and visits a witness or suspect, where he picks up another clue and visits another person or suspect, who leads him to another, and so forth. All that traveling from one place to another gives the illusion of action, but when you analyze it you realize that the only thing that has happened is the protagonist has gotten into a car or boarded a plane, boat, or bus and gone somewhere. But travel is not to be confused with action. Not only do writers fail to describe the real world in sufficient detail, often they portray imaginary worlds in inadequate detail as well. 3. The Sin of Skimpy Detail. Many fiction writers believe that the best way to improve their craft is to study other fiction writers. Certainly one can benefit from reading the work of others. But if your spare time is limited you might benefit more by reading nonfiction. And not just history and biography but esoteric stuff like costumes of eighteenth-century France, Florentine church architecture, Samurai swords, and modern glassmaking. This will help to cure one of the surest signs of amateurism in fiction, the generalized description: "On the Czarina's desk lay a Fabergé egg." Don't you think a reader would rather read something like, "On the Czarina's inlaid walnut and ormolu escritoire a gorgeous gold Fabergé egg stood on a tripod of wrought gold. The egg was segmented with translucent green enamel trellising and inlaid with ceremonial scenes, miniature portraits of her children, and a particularly handsome portrait of Nicholas resplendent in blue uniform and gold epaulettes . . ." etc. Though books about furniture-making or Russian enamels may not be as entertaining as the latest novel by your favorite writer, reading the former will ultimately pay bigger rewards in the rich texture of your writing. 4. The Sin of Unimaginativeness. Not only do writers fail to describe the real world in sufficient detail, often they portray imaginary worlds in inadequate detail as well. If that world is not thoroughly thought out, readers will know it and eventually lose attention. I find this to be particularly true of fantasy and science fiction, where it is all too easy to think readers will buy into a writer's world simply because it is alien. A planet warmed by binary suns may be a good premise, but if the writer does not describe in detail how these twin stars affect this world's ecology, culture or customs, the strangeness of the premise will soon wear off and the reader will be left in the equivalent of Akron, Ohio, in space. Worlds that never were possess as much detail as those that are or used to be, and the writer's task is to research those worlds as assiduously as a scholar might research ancient Thebes or Alexandria. 5. The Sin of Weak Characterization. A similar criticism applies to characterization: many writers simply do not "research" their characters in adequate depth. Making up character details as one goes along may work well for a rare few, but I get the impression that many writers have not "investigated" or "interviewed" their characters at length. The result is trite people. The way to investigate your characters is to create dossiers on them that can later be reviewed as though one were a reporter going through diaries and scrapbooks. When and where was your character born and raised? Who were his parents, his grandparents? What events, friendships, circumstances affected his upbringing? What schools did he go to, jobs did he take, romances did he have? Whether or not you actually use all of the material you enter into your file or database, your intimacy with your characters will come through to your reader and they will feel you know more about the people in your book than you have revealed. 6. The Sin of Clichéd Story. The boredom factor is higher among agents and editors than it is among average readers, and a good thing it is, too. Writers don't always realize that stories that may seem unique to them are trite in the eyes of agents and editors. For every plot you write, we may see dozens of similar submissions. I freely confess to being easily bored, and I've stopped castigating myself for it, for I realize boredom is a critical symptom that a manuscript has gone wrong. I try to monitor the moment at which I started to lose my concentration and involvement, then to analyze precisely what it was that turned me off. Much of the time, it's a story I've heard before. I am weary of coups against the President of the United States (the Vice-President is behind it every time), former-CIA vs. former-KGB cat-and-mouse games, Arab-Israeli terrorist machinations, female journalists turned detective, and Colombian drug lords doing just about anything. Not that these stories cannot be rendered fresh: indeed, that is precisely the point. I demand, I beg, that they be rendered fresh. But if I start to nod off, I know that the author has failed to approach a familiar story from an unfamiliar angle, and that's it for me. Writers don't always realize that stories that may seem unique to them are trite in the eyes of agents and editors. For every plot you write, we may see dozens of similar submissions. 7. The Sin of Triviality. In order for a book to feel big, it should deal with, or at least allude to, issues that go beyond the day-to-day concerns of its characters. Yet, many authors fail to give their story weight or dimension, and the result is often a book that feels trivial and inconsequential. Take a simple love story: boy meets girl and they fall in love. They have a jealous quarrel and break up, but they are eventually reconciled and end up getting married. Such a story is the stuff of a romance, and that's probably where it will end up. Now let's retell the story. It is December 7, 1941. Boy and girl have met and fallen in love, but on that fateful day the Japanese attack Pearl Harbor and the world is plunged into war. Boy enlists and is shipped overseas to fight. In war-torn Europe he falls in love with a beautiful French girl, while at home girl has fallen in love with an older man in the munitions factory where she works. Boy and girl break up, marry their lovers. Years go by, both marriages go bad. Boy and girl look each other up, discover they still carry the torch for each other, and are reunited. The difference between these two love stories is vast, but what is the essential difference? It's that in the second one, history, destiny, and war play a part in the story as if they themselves were characters. The war has taken a silly love story out of the realm of triviality and invested it with a dimension that approaches the tragic. It is not difficult for writers to add such dimension to their work but not all of them do so, and if it is missing, I quickly lose attention. A team that is struggling is often told by its coach to go back to basics. That's not bad advice for struggling writers, either. Copyright © 1990 by Richard Curtis. All Rights Reserved. ________________________________ [url={url}]View the full article[/url]

First and foremost, the aspiring author must conceive and plan the steps of central conflict, the major source of drama that drives through the core of the novel from beginning to end and which zeniths with an important climax, the "falling action" of denouement to follow. This is true for nearly every genre-- thrillers, suspense, science fiction, fantasy, historical, etc.--with the exception of the most literary of works. Conflict, tension, complication, drama--all basically related and serving to prevent a reader's eyes from straying. Since the early days of literary time, serving up a big manuscript of quiet is a sure path to damnation. So what is the best way to prevent this? What is the first and most important structural step to avoid quiet and fixate the reader? Consider "conflict" divided into three parts, all of which you should ideally have present in the novel. First, the primary conflict which drives through the core of the work from beginning to end and which zeniths with an important climax (falling action and denouement to follow). Next, secondary conflicts or complications which can take various social forms (anything from a vigorous love subplot to family issues to turmoil with fellow characters). Finally, those inner conflicts the major characters must endure and resolve--which may or may not be directly related to the main plot line (but at least an important one should be). At the B.C. dawn of drama, conflict was known as the agon (the central contest - according to Aristotle). In order to hold the interest of the audience (or reader), a protagonist must strive to overcome an opposing force (the antagonist), thus creating a primary conflict--whatever form that may take. The outcome of the contest cannot be known in advance, and according to later critics such as Plutarch, the struggle should ideally be "ennobling" in some manner, even if death follows. Is that always true these days? Regardless, first and foremost, the aspiring author must therefore conceive and plan the primary conflict, the major source of drama that drives through the core of the novel from beginning to end and which zeniths with an important climax, the "falling action" of denouement to follow. This is true for every genre--thrillers, suspense, science fiction, fantasy, historical, etc.--the most literary of works perhaps being an exception. Consider the nature of conflict as presented in the novel hook lines below: The Hand of Fatima (historical fiction) A young Moor torn between Islam and Christianity, scorned and tormented by both, struggles to bridge the two faiths by seeking common ground in the very nature of God. Summer's Sisters (women's fiction) After sharing a magical summer with a friend, a young woman must confront her friend's betrayal of her with the man she loved. The Bartimaeus Trilogy (young adult fantasy) As an apprentice mage seeks revenge on an elder magician who humiliated him, he unleashes a powerful Djinni who joins the mage to confront a danger that threatens their entire world. The above diverse examples define classic drama that creates conflict with real stakes. Note that it is fairly easy to ascertain the stakes in each case above: a young woman's love and friendship, the entire world, and harmony between opposed religions. As a writer, keep in mind that if you cannot make the stakes of your novel clear via a pitch or query letter, the odds are you don't have any. ________________________________ View the full article

Following a desultory lurch into relevancy on the part of the panel, one poor neophyte stood and asked the assembled if he should worry about his novel title before becoming published. Did it really matter? He'd received way too many opinions and desired a final tiebreaker. And the consensus answer? Don't worry about your title... Huh? Not long ago, I attended a panel at a mega-large writer conference. It consisted of authors who had recently been published (small presses, mainstream imprints, e-presses). There were about 150 people in the room. Following a desultory lurch into relevancy on the part of the panel, one poor neophyte stood and asked the assembled if he should worry about his novel title before becoming published. Did it really matter? He'd received way too many opinions and desired a final tiebreaker. And the consensus answer? No. You don't have to be concerned, and besides, "the publisher will most likely change it anyway." I sat there dumbfounded. So basically, these people told this guy that pitching his novel or nonfiction with a crappy, foolish, or hackneyed title was perfectly fine. Not to worry! Call it whatever you want. How about THE WHINE OF ROMAN DOGS ON CELTIC WINDS? Yeah, that's a good one!... Must I spend any more space telling you why this was not only not perfectly fine advice, but perfectly stupid and self-defeating? A bad title is like a warning siren going out ahead of your pitch, whether it be an oral pitch or query letter. It makes a horrible whining sound of warning, and it seems to be saying to those who read or listen: This is a terrible writer, stop listening, stop reading, run screaming! Regardless, what is your breakout title? How important is a great title before you even become published? Very important! Quite often, agents and editors will get a feel for a work and even sense the marketing potential just from a title. A title has the ability to attract and condition the reader's attention. It can be magical or thud like a bag of wet chalk, so choose carefully. Go to Amazon.Com and research a good share of titles in your genre, come up with options, write them down and let them simmer for at least 24 hours. Consider character or place names, settings, or a "label" that describes a major character, like THE ENGLISH PATIENT or THE ACCIDENTAL TOURIST. Consider also images, objects, or metaphors in the novel that might help create a title, or perhaps a quotation from another source (poetry, the Bible, etc.) that thematically represents your story. Or how about a title that summarizes the whole story: THE MARTIAN CHRONICLES, HARRY POTTER AND THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS, THE WORLD ACCORDING TO GARP, etc. Keep in mind that the difference between a mediocre title and a great title is the difference between THE DEAD GIRL'S SKELETON and THE LOVELY BONES, between TIME TO LOVE THAT CHOLERA and LOVE IN THE TIME OF CHOLERA between STRANGERS FROM WITHIN (Golding's original title) and LORD OF THE FLIES, between BEING LIGHT AND UNBEARABLE and THE UNBEARABLE LIGHTNESS OF BEING. ________________________________ [url={url}]View the full article[/url]

More to know than you might guess. Secondary characters in a story, novel, or screenplay, both major and minor, must be utilized to serve the story in several important ways. They deliver crucial exposition at the right time ("She's not who you think she is."), create complications and interpersonal conflicts that spice or jolt the narrative ("You can't shut me up!"), play a role in ushering the protagonist down the plot path ("If you don't leave now, the game will be lost.") or make it easier for the author to reveal facets of the protagonist's background or personality ("Have you told her you served time in prison?"), become an actual obstacle to the protagonist ("You'll die if you go there."), or serve as an interpretational viewpoint for the reader that better defines or magnifies the jeopardy, setting, or circumstances ("The Master of Dartmoor awaits, and the hounds will be released!")--or some combination of all the above. In general, secondary characters in a story exist to push the plot forward. Following on above, allow them to generate plot-related interpersonal conflict as often as possible. It's no fun if everyone gets along. Regardless, back to the main point. One can introduce and dynamically portray secondary characters in such a manner as to make them more dimensional as the story progresses. Some authors actually recommend that as a writer you create a list of virtues and vices (or negatives) and apply them to each of your secondary characters in order to render them less than flat and predictable; however, that process can be an arbitrary one. In fact, traits or behaviors should manifest themselves as the circumstantial and psychological dynamics of the story evolve. Inventing a list of good and bad traits ahead of time and attempting to stick to them, in this context, might well prove counterproductive. Instead, by considering the five approaches below, you will add more depth and complexity to your secondary characters and truly get to know them much better. And shouldn't you? Your sympathy and empathy for your own creations will pour onto the page (just don't drown the reader). However, you are well advised to have a VERY GOOD concept of your plot line(s), major dramatic complication(s), theme, and sets ahead of time. Why? Because all your characters will react, role play, and be defined within those contexts. It just makes sense. How can they exist in the vacuum of the blank page? They will gasp for the air of meaning and suffocate! Going forward, brainstorm a copious amount of thoughts and notes. You might not translate all the information to the page, but it will be on hand just in case. And now, as follows, from the relatively straightforward to the more complex. What is the "Initial Attraction" of the reader to the character? How to create a character who gains the reader's interest or concern in a reasonably short amount of time? The techniques below work for novels, shorts, stage and screenplays as well. Make them sympathetic by revealing they are, in one way or another, victims of unfairness, a tough life, recent bad luck, or problems of one kind or another (Scout Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird is adversely affected at school by her father's decisions, whereas Harry Potter is tortured by the Dursleys), e.g., bad accident, onset of illness, impoverishment, loss of a precious thing, etc. This IA factor may or may not be related to the "core wound" (see below). One can fall prey, so to speak, to of any number of things regardless of subconscious makeup born of a past tragedy or perceived failing. Utilize the tried and true method of placing the character in a form of jeopardy, i.e, threat of physical and/or emotional harm that is reasonably serious or potentially devastating. The clock is ticking for them too. Will they be exposed? Humiliated? Defeated? Captured? Die a terrible death? It would not be difficult for this factor to interact with personal stakes (see below). A defined obsession could well lead to impending dire jeopardy as the clock ticks. Create a character who possesses likeable traits or pursuits, e.g., possesses a quippy or quirky personality, bestows gifts of one kind or another, one of a kind expert (inventor, scientist, wizard, balloon race champion, etc.), gives to charities, protests against injustice, reads poetry to blind children, does good things for people under adverse circumstances. Nothing gratuitous, however. Allow this trait to play into the story. Perhaps it even creates trouble or heartache for the character? Why should results always be positive? But wait. Does a character have to be "likeable" to stir ongoing interest in the reader? Of course not. And what is the perfect example of this? None other than GOLLUM, that lovably loathsome creature from Lord of the Rings, also known as Sméagol. Talk about creating conflict, being a victim of a powerful force, issuing threats. The suspense never lets up as long as he's on the page. Use of Personal Stakes and Backstory What uniquely matters to any particular character? Why? What or who do they care about? Do they have a tangential or full blow subplot situation that engages or distracts them, e.g., does old Mr. Sarbanes, the last living investigative reporter in Scottsdale, have a grandchild he's putting through college? Is he struggling to keep his job? In the novel, Piper Robbin and the American Oz Maker, the secondary character, Alcaeus, a resurrected Greek philosopher, is cursed by the rapid onset of a plague, but is determined at all costs to remain alive just long enough to witness the end of the world. It is important to him above all things. But why? The best way to develop these "situational stakes" for a secondary character in the story is to first consider the character's backstory. Write down a history for the character--background, family relationships, social class, schooling, relevant watershed events. Allow this to play into their current personal stakes. The Core Wound and the Dynamic of Desire Explore your character deeply. Consider conscious motivation stimulated by both memory and subconscious pain. The "core wound" drives the character in certain unique ways, perhaps leads them on a journey to prove themselves. It's resolution, if it ever comes, will make them happier, healthier, or more in tune with the world around them. Does Citizen Kane come to mind? Of course, he failed to achieve resolution, and therein resided the ultimate tragedy. Fundamental and popular core wounds include loss of a parent, a broken heart, an ultimate mistake (the character could spend a lifetime trying to make amends), a big secret (the revelation of which could ruin or harm the character), or perhaps a perceived terrible failure in the character's past (a primary desire forever denied by a moment's hesitation or a small mistake). From Psychology Today: "Core wounds tend to be things like a sense of not being enough, of being unlovable to a parent, of feeling stupid, dirty, unwanted, or ugly. No matter what your core wound may be, you can guarantee that your wound influences who you are and how you behave." and "Every core wound is based on a basic knowledge that we are unacceptable as we are, so we have to adjust and change to be perceived as good. It influences our self-esteem and the very fabric of our thoughts." And one core wound is usually enough. As famous screenplay writer Peter Russell points out: "Tony Soprano had one big wound — my mommy hates me. But a bunch of desires came out of that — I love prostitutes, I love working at a strip club, I love hurting people, I love to be violent, I love to run things, I love being a boss, I love being a dad." For Robert Olen Butler, Pulitzer winner, novelist, screenplay writer, and distinguished professor at FSU, the central character issue involves the "dynamic of desire." As he states in an interview online: I use the word "yearning" with my students because it suggests the deepest level of desire, which is where fiction gets to. So fiction is the art form of human yearning. You can understand it because the one craft element that we most associate with narratives is plot. Plot is simply yearning challenged and thwarted.So what is this telling us? Might this "yearning" be related to the core wound? Could it be? You're the author. You decide. The Art of Contrast or Contradiction The character develops a certain pattern of behavior, lures us in, then suddenly behaves in a manner that appears inconsistent or variant, surprising, though not in a way that is ultimately confusing. It cannot just be arbitrary. There must be an underlying reason. The simplest way to create a complex character is to contradict who a character appears to be. A secondary method is to have the character desire two things in conflict--the inner clash thereby created, reminding one of the classic inner devil vs. angel fighting for dominion of the soul. According to author DAVID CORBETT: "A contradiction is something about a person that piques our interest because it betrays what we expect, given what else we know or have observed." And further as general categories: 1. Contradictions Based on Physical, Ironic, or Comic Juxtaposition. For example, a homeless girl in full makeup and perfect hair; big guys named "Smalls"; or a guy in a suit drinking out of a sippy cup. 2. Contradictions Based on Our Need to Serve Multiple Social Roles. As Mr. Corbett Says, "The tension created by these two antagonistic impulses–to control our behavior so we 'get along' and to let go and 'be ourselves'–forms one of the core conflicts of our lives." 3. Contradictions Based on Competing Morals or Goals. For example, most people want to earn money, but they’d also rather be free than go to work. 4. Contradictions That Result from a Secret or Deceit. Where keeping the secret leads the character to do things they wouldn’t otherwise do. 5. Contradictions Based on Conscious Versus Unconscious Traits. For example, a character can be consciously mean to their spouse’s friend because they’re unconsciously attracted to the friend. 6. Dispositional Contradictions. For example, a character can be violent in some circumstances and tender in others. These contrasts and inner conflicts engage interest because the reader is curious as to which side will manifest itself next. Also, they create suspense since we'd like an explanation of the contrast or contradiction, and of course, they portray character complexity and depth. The Sketch Bullets Once you've considered the above, here are additional important brainstormers for fully fleshed major secondary characters (minor secondary most likely won't require this much detail). PHOTOS AND PHYSICAL: You select from Internet photos of those you believe exemplify the physical form/attitude of the characters. Next, jot down the physical facets a bullet at a time, one page for pics and bullets. ORIENTATION: Practical matters of existence. You orient this secondary character in time and space, i.e., you give them a job, a current reason for being, a place they inhabit, people they know, activities they participate in. Basics of what, where, when, how, why. LIFE GOAL: What does this person wants most in life: peace? power? freedom? dignity? love? Is this ostensible goal related in any way to the core wound? Should it be? PSYCHE PROFILE: You work up a psychological profile: strongest desire(s)/dislike(s), intelligence level, emotional profile (dark or light as a whole, easy or slow to anger), attitudinal qualities (e.g., biases towards objects/people in the environment that create cognitive issues), belief system (atheist, Hindu, Republican). Again, this will be related in one way or another to their core wound, and to their history, backstory elements, but not always. A character could be born a bastard regardless of nurture factors. SOCIAL REACTION PROFILE: How do they react to others in social situations? You sketch a short anecdote that reveals this person by demonstrating how she or he behaves/reacts to a defined stimulus in the context of a social situation. Something has happened, something is said that creates tension, desire, confusion, ergo the anecdote portrays this person at their best or worst. HINT: CONFLICT! THE CHARACTER ARC: Given your knowledge of the major complication and story, you flow-sketch the emotional and cognitive evolution of the character from beginning to end. If she or he starts off as a ignorant louse, where to go from there? Will they epiphanize, change, require repeated motivation? All major characters evolve as the story progresses. It‘s mandatory, whether in fiction or film. Consider historical factors, core wound factors, immediate circumstances, role of the character in the story. You have work ahead if you hope to accomplish the act of great secondary characters. But approach the task with passion and appropriate doses of ambition. Strive to be unique within the bounds of convention. Give freedom to your imagination and be aggressive with its application. We will all love you for it!________________________________ [url={url}]View the full article[/url]

Let's get to the point. Yes, we know CATCHER IN THE RYE and HUCKLEBERRY FINN and THE GREAT GATSBY could never have been famous novels without the engaging first person voice of their protagonists. And yes, first person is fashionable now in select genres (only because certain successful novels in the near past were hacked out in first person, e.g., GONE GIRL and THE HUNGER GAMES, thus leading New York publishing to illogical conclusions and a very poor memory for history--think HARRY POTTER or THE BOOK THIEF for starters); however, multiple third person is the best and most cinematic way to relate a dynamic work of fiction, as will be demonstrated. Unless you know you cannot earn the brass ring without remaining a prisoner of first person voice, becoming skilled with third person variations is strongly advised. The "Filter of Traits" - Personalities, Viewpoints, and Tone Before getting around to the demonstration of brilliantly effective third person in action, let's examine just one of the many benefits (see list below) to utilizing the viewpoint in question. Consider, the nature of any given 3POV narrative is dependent to a large extent on the personality of the 3POV character the author has chosen to filter and interpret the fictional environment. Therefore, by purposely placing a certain character with a specific "filter of traits" in the presence of a phenomenon that must be described or experienced (event, object, social situation, etc.) you thereby render it via the subjective lens of that character’s mindset, biases, emotion, and perspectives. A superstitious individual might imagine, for example, a dark hand of God blotting the sun in anger and see falling rain as tears; whereas the non-superstitious observer might focus instead on the sadness of a small child, her bright clothing soaked, or the frantic motions of the staff attempting to clear food off the table before it becomes spoiled by rainwater. The superstitious character might suffer more cognitive dysfunction, interpret smiles as wolfish or manipulative or death-like, the more intelligent character marveling at light and youthful appearance of the person smiling, the crinkles around the eyes, the cause of the light mood. The examples are endless, but as you see, varying characters employed as 3POV cameras or interpreters will yield different results when placed in the same circumstance. http://algonkianconferences.com/att.jpg Note also the "filter of traits" can quite effectively set a tone for the scene, or for the work as a whole, depending on the presence of the character in the novel. Certainly, the type of superstitious and/or paranoid personality noted above could easily create an ongoing dark and frightening tone in the narrative. Narrative Examples of the Four Levels For purposes of this study, we define four levels of third person point of view (3POV) as follows: Author-POV 3POV Distant 3POV Close 3POV First-Close The Author-POV or APOV, refers to the author, the detached or "omniscient narrator" who steps in now and then to set the scene or make artful commentary at the right time (just *please* don't address the reader directly because that is so irritating and breaks the reader's immersion into the fictional dream). 3POV Distant or 3POV-D occurs at such time the narrative focuses on specific characters and we watch their actions like a live camera actively filming them. 3POV Close or 3POV-C takes us into the character's head and camera viewpoint shifts to the character, i.e., we see or experience, for the most part, only what the character is viewing or experiencing. 3POV First-Close or 3POV-FC dives deeper into the character's head and effectively mimics first person POV, but naturally without the usual limits of first person POV because the author can cut from the 3POV-FC and pull all the way back to APOV. Let's look at three samples of what we're talking about from a novel published by Del Sol Press entitled WORLD MAKER - THE ASCENSION OF ROMANOVA. APOV to 3POV-D to APOV The following never quite makes it into 3POV-C, but verges on it. Note how the APOV returns at the conclusion: (APOV) WHEN ONLY A CHILD OF NINE, ONE OF EARTH'S most powerful sorcerers, Zolo Bold, did something that haunted him the rest of his life. He sniffed a bee up his nose. But no ordinary bee. (3POV-D) After a night of howling steppe winds and falling stars spilled from The Big Dipper, he saw a white flower, like one of those stars, stemming out the next morning from a vendor’s cart in Samarkand. While his mother strained to subdue him, Zolo nonetheless hopped and hummed with delight. Much to his surprise, he could smell the mind-softening scent of the blossom even from many feet away, competing bravely with the loud odors of the city market. In his mind, it seemed so radiant and mysterious that it overshadowed all the other flowers, even the enormous Silk Road orchids rumored by Christian monks to be death robbers, and the many and exotic blooms whose seeds came from Ulaanbaatar in faraway Mongolia. When the flower merchant, a man with an ox-sized stomach, no nose, and the thinnest head Zolo had ever seen, turned to heckle a customer, Zolo Bold--whose name means Crazy Fox--saw his chance. He gently slipped from his mother’s hand and took a few steps, leaning forward to smell the rose. He could not help himself, for never before had he stood in the presence of such a sky born flower. But just as his nose brushed the soft white petals and the scent filled his head, something else did too: a sharp and crawly thing. It followed the air up his right nostril, and once lodged, began to squirm. Zolo shrieked and jumped into the air! His entire nose buzzed and the sound of it curled into his throat and out of his mouth. A nearby child, smaller than him and holding his mother’s hand, heard the bee voice and pointed, yelling “It’s bee boy! Bee boy!” (APOV) In the years to come, Zolo Bold, the great enemy of the dark feared from Istanbul to Cathay, would remember that boy’s terrified face and always attach to it all mention of the word "bee" ... APOV to 3POV-FC to 3POV-C Next step. Note how the lines between levels can become blurred, but once the reader accepts the reality of the 3POV narrative style, it seamlessly blends: (APOV) After what seemed like hours, the two of them drew near their tent. (3POV-D) Zolo broke away from his mother and ran towards it as fast as he could. Once inside, he dove onto his sleeping place, made of quilted blankets, and thrust his arm beneath them. Groping around, he soon found the object he searched for: a tiny stone statue of an ancient warrior known to him only as Alexander. He gripped the figure tightly and whispered his own quick prayer for protection. Many years before, a wandering Kazakh traveler, late of Istanbul, had given it to him as a gift and told him that Alexander once possessed the good fortune and power to rule many nations at once, that he was beloved of all gods; (3POV-C) and little Zolo imagined a being of such power would make a formidable ally. He mumbled prayers to Alexander only on special occasions, not wishing to upset Allah, or his parents. (3POV-D) But at the moment, his mother paid no attention. She stared out the tent into the desert, her body unmoving, as if something she saw paralyzed her. (3POV-C) to (3POV-FC) While his mother stood in the corner of his eye, facing away from him, Zolo held Alexander close and whispered a prayer in his head: God Alexander, Help my mother find my father. I implore you. Make my family whole again And I will make sacrifice To you for all my days. (3POV-C) He held Alexander for a few more moments, staring at his soft profile and face and wondering how such a soft-looking god could rule so many nations. But he believed it to be true nonetheless. The wanderer from Istanbul had appeared like a man of wisdom and iron, and in his eyes, Zolo saw the truth. [ NOTE: if the narrative had described the prayer rather than having us see the thoughts in Zolo's head, we would have stayed in (3POV-C) ] 3POV-D to 3POV-FC Note the transition from 3POV-C to 3POV-FC. The narrative narrows down to the actual thoughts of the 3POV character, also using italicized lines which directly mimic first person interior monologue: (3POV-D)The old woman stared at Senna, her eyes fixing on her, never straying until she walked to within a few feet of the table. Her two escorts, still masked, let go of her and returned to the performance. The old woman's eyes dropped to the floor and Senna looked her over. (3POV-C) There was nothing special about her. Her face resembled a water-starved desert of lines and cracks, as one would expect. But suddenly, Senna heard someone speak to her: Sing the body young. (3POV-FC)A voice? From the old woman? ... No. The voice belonged to a man, though it sounded a bit strangled ... Sing the body young. Again! Was it in her head? She looked around. Nothing. Only Hermine and Théodo acting witless as usual, and not even seeing this old woman. O poder é a vida ea morte, Princess Senna. She knew that language. Galician, yes. A rare language of Spain, heavily influenced by Roman empire. It translated to "The power is life and death." Her fingers pricked for a moment and she realized the source of the voice: Mirza Yesun Temur. It must be him! Meu segredo está oculto. My secret is hidden. She strained her eyes for him. Zolo, Willie, or whoever was right. Tricks, illusions. And what did the words mean? And why? ... Sing the body young. The words intruding into her mind forced her to look at the old woman again. Now her eyes lifted and bored into Senna, and Senna's face began to burn and felt as if dozens of small fingers walked lightly over it. What in Beelzebub's name? The woman's eyes implored Senna to act, as if a terrible thing were about to happen. But what? Summary of Arguments for 3POV 3POV can be just as immediate and intimate as first person (see 3POV-FC example above), but without the usual constraints of being always boxed into what the first person narrator sees/experiences, sans their personality as a continuous filter. 3POV allows for multiple filters and tones, as well as first person intimacy with more than one character (multiple first person can achieve the same thing, but with more difficulty). If you as the author need to deliver exposition or other critical information you will have more hoops to jump through if you are confined to the viewpoint of a first person narrator who may or may not logically be capable of delivering said information. While Jodi the first person narrator is talking to Mary, Bobby has just lit the fuse a mile away. How can Jodi tell us this? Related to above, you can effectively describe events via the APOV and other 3POV characters even though your protagonist isn't present. Allows a universal or authorial voice to more easily and quickly, under a wide variety of circumstances, to define reality for the reader. The reader suspends disbelief and accepts what the author narrator is telling them, whereas first person statements and observation run the risk, in certain situations, of sounding more like opinion. Advantages of dramatic irony. The reader learns about upcoming circumstances that will adversely affect the protagonist before the protagonist realizes this fact. This creates suspense and heightens reader concern. Allows for establishment of "epic perspective" (see the opening above with little Zolo). Cinematic advantages. For example, in THE ALCHEMYST by Jonathan Stroud, we witness a scene of violence taking place in a book store. We see it through one characters viewpoint, in the store, as it plays out, then we switch to a second character outside the store, witnessing the effects of the violence from outside. Like a film, the author is able to cut back and forth and give far more dynamism to the depiction of the scene. Another cinematic advantage is that the APOV can start the action sometimes more readily than the first person who may get mired in TELL TELL rather than SHOW SHOW. Ability to jump into the heads of other characters enables author to quickly and efficiently switch settings and circumstances and thus add more variety and energy, as well bring a different tone and interpretation to the work as needed, e.g., consider the difference between the POV of a child and an elder experiencing the same circumstance. It's easier to physically describe the 3POV view-point character(s) - the author can simply just say straight out how they appear, or even use the camera angle of another 3POV character to render the image. Now that you've seen the viewpoint in action. Now that you've read the advantages, you are advised to experiment with your own examples before moving on to the timeless white page of the novel in progress. ______ ________________________________ [url={url}]View the full article[/url]

So what's your edge? I just finished reading two very mediocre books, both very atmospheric, but without much story because the story was buried somewhere in that atmosphere (and, in one case, lyricism, as one book was written by a poet and she was so in love with her writing she didn't realize there wasn't actually a story). I'm not going to tell you what either book is because one is a Pulitzer Prize winning 'classic' and I don't feel like debating its merits. The other was represented by an agent I'm going to send my current novel to, so a little self-preservation is called for! While dragging myself to the final chapters of these books, I realized that what's missing is fear. In writing, a healthy dose of MyGodICan'tBelieveI'mWritingThis! is necessary. I didn't feel either writer standing too close to the edge (note the title of this blog...). It's your job to challenge yourself. Sit in the dark corners tied to a chair so you can't leave and meet what comes for you. Climb into the snake pit and pull the cover over your head. I guarantee you, not only will it scare the crap out of you, it will thrill you no end. So what freaks you to write about? For me it used to be sex. I was raised Catholic and--well, enough said, don't you think? I thought it was a victory just to have sex without being married, let alone write about it in all its nasty glory. Then a professor gave us that assignment in class one day: write what scares you. So I did. I had just started writing a novel for my honors class and my professor's challenge took the work to a whole other level. I realized I couldn't just write a sex scene. It had to go deeper than that. (I think there's a joke there somewhere...) Sit in the dark corners tied to a chair so you can't leave and meet what comes for you. Climb into the snake pit and pull the cover over your head. The novel was about a girl using her sexual escapades to kill off her good girl image. The culminating scene took place in a strip club where the female main character had to enter a live peep show booth to strip and do whatever the man she was with told her to do. I stalled as long as I could with research (not that kind!) and, with the deadline looming, got to work. Let me set the scene so you know how difficult this was for me. At the time I lived with my parents to save money and because I worked full time as well as went to school full time in the evenings and had a dog I needed fed and walked in my absence. So picture sitting in your childhood bedroom with the dolls your mother insists must not be hidden in the closet, pictures of you as a kid (one in your communion dress and veil), children running around playing and screaming right outside your window, and your mother knocking on your door about once an hour to ask you some silly question because she doesn't get the whole writing thing and must absolutely know right this minute if that's your laundry in the dryer and what do you want for dinner? And you're supposed to write what? I needed to park in a dark alley off of The Block in East Baltimore with a bottle of gin, but I'm not that brave and I'm not a drinker. So it had to be done in my bedroom in my parents' house. It took me 26 hours to write the 10 page scene. Sixteen hours on Saturday, another ten hours on Sunday. In a way, I actually think where I wrote it helped. The tension of location versus content, my Catholic past versus my writing future. I was conscious of that tension the entire time and kept pushing and pushing against it, making sure I felt very uncomfortable the whole time. That's key: discomfort. Add disgust, sweaty palms, and some nausea and you've got the magic formula. Here's how you can make it happen for you: Tell yourself it has to be complete by a certain time and you're not allowed to do anything but write until the piece is finished (meals and bathroom breaks excepted). Tell yourself no one will read it, close your eyes and write. Sometimes it's easier if you can't see the words. Pretend you are another writer, for whom this subject is no big deal. She/he wants to shock and surprise. Let her/him at it. No deleting anything. Get all the way through first. Then leave it alone for at least three days, preferably a week. If you want to delete something at that time, delete only what doesn't serve/move the story or the characters, that's all. Don't delete something because you're worried what other people will think of you. Do something nice for yourself once it's over. You might be high on the accomplishment, you might be exhausted, but find a way to appreciate your effort. A movie, a trashy book to read that doesn't tax your brain, a new pair of shoes, a phone call to a friend to relate your harrowing experience and be told you're awesome. After that weekend, going back to write other sexually explicit scenes leading up to the peep show was a piece of cake. I enjoyed it. And now I can say 'been there, done that' about writing sex. Sure, there are different types of sex, different degrees, and I could try writing them all, but that was the edge for me, and it was enough. You'll be uncomfortable, but also have a great time with it because once you get past doing it the first time and realize you didn't spontaneously combust, you can appreciate the line you crossed, you'll feel more confident in your abilities, and you can look forward to shaking up your readers. So what's your edge? What scares you to write? Is it sex? Religious fervor/obsession/possession? The truth about your parents' marriage? The truth about your marriage? Death? Murder? Abuse? War? It doesn't have to be something big, humans are cruel and horrible in many small ways, but go for something big first. Go for broke. Get twisted. If you're working on something right now, look for the dark side and run straight for it. What you write may come out awkward, cliché, maybe too soft. The important thing is to keep pushing into the ugly. Don't let anything hold you back. You will get somewhere you never expected and, whether you use what you wrote or not, you'll be a better writer for it. I dare you. _________________ Christine Stewart is a writer/editor in Baltimore and program director for literary arts with her state arts council. For editing services email therealwriter@gmail.com, and join her Facebook page: www.facebook.com/ChrisStewartTheRealWriter. ________________________________ View the full article

The Ruminations of Gail Godwin Gail Godwin excels at observing and ruminating on the human condition. Much of the power of her narrative depends on her ability to create interesting characters whom she then dissects. The following excerpts are from her novel, Evensong, the story of Margaret Bonner, the pastor of a church in a small town, and how she interprets and reacts to the characters in her life. "Would Gus and Charles, as involved in their building and doctoring as Adrian and I were in our school mastering and pastoring, be able to live up to the words better than we were doing? I hoped so. I hoped so for their sakes. I sketched a Celtic cross in the left-hand corner of the card and began shading in the background. What had happened to Adrian and me? In my more pragmatic moods, I tried to settle for the practical explanation: our jobs were making so much of us that we had not time left to make much of each other. But by nature I wasn't a pragmatist; I was a digger, a delver into complexities." "At the bottom of my father's Slough of Despond, I now realized, had burbled a dependable tiny wellspring of lugubrious self-love: somehow he had been at ease lolling in his melancholy. Whereas at the bottom of Adrian's despondence, I had discovered, lay a flinty bedrock of self-hatred. But if my father had been something of a loller, my husband was a fighter: his whole history testified to this. He'd work hard and achieve a profession, then heed a call to a fuller use of his potential, bravely pull himself up by the roots, and expand his skills: from Chicago to Zurich, from Zurich to seminary, from seminary to the church, from church to this experimental school in the mountains of western North Carolina. "A falling short of your totality" was how he had defined sin on the day I met him in my father's garden, and he was still at work trying to fill out his own totality. But then there'd be an emotional setback - the death of my father, the death of our unborn daughter, the death of Dr. Sandlin, and whereas anyone would be plunged into grief, he plunged beyond grief, right back down to that hard, cold floor of self-hate." "As I laid aside the new sermon note card before I cluttered it with doodles, my gaze was arrested by old Farley's moon painting, which hung between the two windows in my study: Every time I looked at it I of course thought of Madelyn and the changes she had wrought on our family simply by walking into our house and being Madelyn Farley and walking out again the next morning with my mother. But the painting itself remained a rich source of contemplation for me. That round white disk riding the night sky between its trail of bright clouds had been created on a dark, freezing porch by an ill-humored old man who in his last years had become fixated on the moon. Why? Because its fast-rising, elliptical variations were so hard to trap in pigment and water? Or were all his moonscapes (conscious or unconscious) an exercise in self-portraiture: obsessive studies of a cold, hard, cratered, dark thing, like himself, that nevertheless had been endowed with the capacity to reflect light and beauty?" ________________________________ View the full article

Without them many of the best selling novels of all time would simply cease to exist, their supporting beams cut away, the shell of remaining "story" quietly imploding to ignominy and self-publication. Consider the impact on a scene, any scene, as soon as the author moves the chess piece of antagonist onto the page. The mere presence of a Javert from "Les Miserables," Assef from "The Kite Runner," or Nurse Ratched from "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," immediately energizes the environment. The narrative and dialogue literally crackle and groan with antagonist. What chances do you as a writer have of getting your novel manuscript, regardless of genre, commercially published if the story and narrative therein fail to meet reader demands for sufficient suspense, character concern, and conflict? Answer: none. But what major factor makes for a quiet or dull manuscript brimming with insipid characters and a story that cascades from chapter to chapter with tens of thousands of words, all of them combining irresistibly to produce an audible thudding sound in the mind, rather like a fist hitting a side of cold beef? Such a dearth of vitality in narrative and story frequently results from the unwillingness of the writer to create a suitable antagonist who stirs and spices the plot hash. And let's make it clear what we're talking about. By "antagonist" we specifically refer to an actual fictional character, an embodiment of certain traits and motivations who plays a significant role in catalyzing and energizing plot line(s), or at bare minimum, in assisting to evolve the protagonist's character arc (and by default the story itself) by igniting complication(s) the protagonist, and possibly other characters, must face and solve (or fail to solve). Writers new to the fiction game often shy away from creating an effective antagonist. If you are an editor, you see this time and time again. But why? Is it because they can't accept that a certain percentage of cruel and selfish humans are a reality of life? Is it because they live in an American bubble surrounded only by circumstances that reinforce their Rockwellian naivety? Do they not watch Bill Moyers, or Sixty Minutes, or even a shred of film footage from the latest repressions of the downtrodden by tyrannical government forces? Or is it because they don't understand the requirements of good dramatic fiction (no good guy without a bad guy, folks)? Or some combo thereof? Whatever. Though you would think after watching hundreds of films (even comedies) and reading God knows how many novels they might catch on. And this doesn't mean they have to reinvent the black hat cowboy. We're talking about prime movers of social conflict and supreme irritation that come in wide variety of forms, from relatively mild to pure evil. Antagonists are often the most memorable characters in literature, without whom many of the best selling novels of all time would simply cease to exist, their supporting beams cut away, the shell of remaining "story" quietly imploding to ignominy and self-publication. And what drives these antagonists? Whether revenge, zealotry, ruthless ambition, hubris or just plain jealousy, the overall effect on the narrative and plot in general is identical, i.e., a dramatic condition of complication (related to plot) and concern (related to character) infuses the story. True drama demands they exist. Imagine ANTIGONE without the dictator to stir her into plot. And consider the impact on a scene, any scene, as soon as the author moves the particular chess piece of an antagonist onto the page. The mere presence of a Javert from Les Miserables, Assef from The Kite Runner, or even Marilla from Anne of Green Gables, immediately energizes the environment. The narrative and dialogue literally crackle and groan with antagonist. Below we see five antagonists from very different novels--all multimillion sellers (and successful films)--also noting their vital roles in the development of the story. Consider them ranked from sufficiently annoying to genuine super bastards. First, but not worst, we have Marilla Cuthbert from ANNE OF GREEN GABLES. Author Lucy Maud Montgomery intended for Marilla to be a source of tension and obstacle for Anne, not a plot-swinging major like the four mentioned below. You might call her, an "antagonistic force" or temporary antagonist, remaining an irritant long enough to provide verve to the story and suitable growth arc to the protagonist. Marilla begins as a woman with the personality of a falling guillotine. Only a barely perceptible sense of humor shows itself. Marilla's state of being clashes markedly with Anne's romanticism and imagination. She scolds and criticizes Anne, and like Javert of Les Miserables, is equally harsh on herself. Even when she finds herself agreeing with Anne's brazen thoughts, she rebukes herself, and whenever she feels a fleeting rush of affection, she quickly suffocates it. Later, she changes, but she played her role long enough to help keep the reader on the page while at the same time provoking the evolution of Anne's character. And what decent discussion of antagonists in literature fails to comment on the role of Tom Buchanan in THE GREAT GATSBY? Tom falls fourth on the intensity list. He doesn't qualify as a dangerous zealot or a vengeful junkyard-zilla, but without Tom's endearing personality, Fitzgerald's novel of love and loss falls to pieces. Playing in a love triangle that includes his wife, Daisy, and Jay Gatsby, the wealthy Buchanan displays himself time and time again as an arrogant and bullying schmuck, enough that by the time Fitzgerald needs us to cheer for Jay, and desire freedom for Daisy, we are more than ready to do so. In comparison to Buchanan, Jay Gatsby, despite his faults, appears like a Lancelot, while Daisy, despite her shallowness, becomes the distressed damsel. If Buchanan did not exist, or if Fitzgerald had depicted him as a decent fellow, the faults of Jay and Daisy would have burned in high relief, and as readers, our sympathy for them would be zero. Fitzgerald's only chance would have been to render them both irrevocably detestable, as Emile Zola did for his murderous couple in THERESE RAQUIN--so much so that as a reader you turn the page in hopes they will both soon be wearing prison orange (or whatever color of rag they wore in those days). Next comes the infamous Javert of LES MISERABLES by Victor Hugo. Unlike the first two antagonists, Javert's primary flaw might be defined as dogged zealotry, and at times, he behaves as hard on himself as on others. After the character Valjean, a victim of mistaken identity, appears in court and loses both his business and his position in Montreuil-sur-mer, he escapes long enough to hide his fortune. He spends more time in prison, working aboard a ship. Eventually he escapes again and retrieves the character Cosette from the evil Thenardiers. Then begins a decade of hiding, moving from place to place, always staying just ahead of the implacable Javert. Will Valjean save the farm and live to tell the story? Are we not concerned enough for brave Valjean that we want to know? Regardless, no Javert equals far less misery, and what else? ... No story. A close second to Assef below, for reasons of sheer despicableness, is good ole boy Bobby Ewell of TO KILL A MOCKINGBIRD by Harper Lee. Shunned by the entire town, and terribly embittered, Ewell's raison d'etre consists of being antagonistic towards every living thing. As Atticus Finch does his best to defend Tom, the rancor and hatefulness exhibited by Ewell at the trial manipulates the emotions and fears of those present, raising the heat on Tom to lynch mob intensity. Ewell is determined to see Tom hang, and following the trial, Mr. 666 stokes up his inner dragon for yet another bellow. He seeks revenge on those who desired a fair trial for Tom, and doing harm to Scout and Jem seems like a great way to destroy Atticus. Without Bob Ewell, would you have ever heard of Harper Lee? Rising like a bad moon to the bottom of the list is the human monster known as Assef, antagonist from THE KITE RUNNER by Khaled Hosseini, a novel that has sold millions of copies in dozens of languages. A vicious and bigoted childhood acquaintance of the likable characters, Amir and Hassan, he torments them whenever the mood strikes, but devolves to subhuman status upon attacking and raping Hassan. And at such time the Taliban gain control of Afghanistan, he gravitates to their culture, thus placing himself in a position to indefinitely torture others he considers inferior. As a brutal cherry on the sociopath milkshake, Assef turns the character Sohrab into his sex toy, and Amir must defeat Assef to bring Sohrab home. Assef certainly doesn't possess the globe-spanning ambitions of Lord Voldemort from Harry Potter, but what if you handed this megalodon a magic wand? Power equals opportunity equals "enthusiasms" as Al Capone might say. Bottom line here: writers of manuscript-length fiction must create and deploy a suitable antagonist, allowing them catalyze the plot line and throw obstacles in the way of the protagonist and other characters, or at least become an "antagonistic force" of some type, like Marilla Cuthbert, a source of tension and character development. Or perhaps, you need maximum verve in the novel and wish to create characters who assume the roles of both a Marilla and a Bob. Whatever you do though, plan to make them an integral part of the story, or rather, allow them room they need to define the story. ________________________________ View the full article

Many years ago I stumbled upon a Sydney Sheldon book on the rack at a local grocery store. I picked it up, read a bit, and said to myself: I can write better with my eyes closed. Well, hyperbole or no, there was some truth in that statement. Most likely, the work was not written by Sheldon at all, but some hack ghost brought in by the publisher to poorly imitate Sheldon. Sound implausible? Not at all. Lots of big names are "hyperbranded" these days, i.e., they don't write their own stuff. They are a brand. Others write for them and the original authors simply wave a hand in approval, or nod their mythic head, or something such as that. And btw, yes, I know this is all old news. Regardless, new writers often make the mistake of emulating established authors who have grown lazy, hyperbranded, or just plain crappy over the years. They ape their characters, plots, and even writing styles, then become astonished or even hostile when agents or editors don't immediately praise them for their wondrous contribution to the American literary scene. God bless 'em, it's not their faults really! After all, the book was on the shelf, yes? People were buying it, yes? So what's the answer? New writers must learn to emulate authors who themselves are fairly new, and yet successful to a reasonable degree. Freshly minted authors are not only a better weather vane for what the market wants in terms of premise, settings, and characters, but also in terms of prose style. Recently I pulled a copy of FANTASY AND SCIENCE FICTION off the rack at Union Station in D.C., just to check on the state-of-the-art in that genre, and was disappointed to see poor writing by name authors. And by poor, I mean very poor. One author, an established SF/F type (who has been chumming around for decades), not only made himself offensive with a hackneyed hook, but bombarded my brain with "was" so relentlessly that I wanted to call him and beg him to attend a basic creative writing class in order to learn how to choose verbs at level somewhere beyond that of a sixth grader. Keep in mind that the old gang of authors can cough on a page and get published. New writers cannot. They must choose their role models wisely! ________________________________ View the full article

Authorial Misdemeanors - Agent Richard Curtis There seems to be a law of nature that the quality of a manuscript declines in inverse proportion to the elaborateness of its package. When I receive a manuscript bound by brass screws with a plastic embossed cover, lovingly wrapped in chamois cloth, set in a velvet-lined cedar box, shrink-wrapped, packed in turn in a fireproof strongbox secured with iron bands, I am prepared to stake my career on the likelihood that this book is one colossal dud. From time to time an author will do something that causes me to scratch my head. I've compiled a list of these foibles and offer it here with a light heart. If you have perpetrated any of these transgressions I'll let you off this time without a fine, but don't let me see you in this courtroom again. I must say right off the bat that among the things authors do that irk me, delivering manuscripts late is not one of them. Lateness is the medium in which agents live. We breathe late manuscripts and eat late checks and drink late contracts. And lateness in a creative person is certainly more understandable and forgivable than it is in a business organization. I have never known an author to be deliberately late with a book, but I have known many a publisher to be deliberately late with a check. What kills me, however, is authors who don't tell me they're going to be late. Publishers schedule books many months in advance, and in most cases are able to pull one out of the schedule if given sufficient notice. In most cases, too, a publisher will grant the author a reasonable extension of delivery date. If, however, out of embarrassment or some other reason (such as a moonlighting gig the agent doesn't know about), an author doesn't level with his agent, he will not only get himself into trouble, but his agent as well. An agent who knows the truth can go to bat for his client, make excuses, concoct a fib. But if an agent sincerely assures an editor that a book will be turned in in June because that's what his client told him, when the client knew all the time that there wasn't a chance in hell that he could make the deadline, the agent's credibility will be damaged. I make very few inflexible rules for my clients, but this is one of them: no matter how embarrassing your reasons may be (one author's dog actually did eat his manuscript), I insist that you tell me the truth so that I can make proper excuses for you. (I, of course, have never lied on behalf of a client. What kind of agent would I be if I lied on behalf of a client?) Lying to your agent is a mortal sin, but authors commit many venial ones as well, and oddly enough, it is the latter variety that drives me absolutely up the wall. Take authors who misspell "Foreword," for instance. I strongly feel that anybody who turns in a manuscript containing a "Forward" deserves automatic shredding of his manuscript plus the first three fingers of his right hand. You would think I would not have to explain to professionals who make their livings with words that a foreword is a fore-word, a word that comes before the main text. But as the Forward-to-Foreword ratio on manuscripts submitted to my agency is about one out of three, I can see that the correct spelling cannot be stressed enough. It should be enough to remind you that "Foreword" is usually the very first word one's eyes fall upon when opening a manuscript. (I hesitate, however, to criticize writers for not knowing the difference between a foreword, a preface, and an introduction, since I don't understand it either.) Like many publishing people I am a fanatical believer in the importance of titles: a good or bad one can significantly affect the fate of a book. The Forward-Foreword offense is part of a larger conspiracy to send agents to early graves. I am referring to authors who don't review their manuscripts before submitting them. An occasional, random typo is one thing, but when I realize that the author never bothered to reread his manuscript, have it vetted by a good speller, or run it through the spell-checker on his computer, a murderous rage comes over me and I am compelled to steal into the night to overturn garbage cans and scratch automobile fenders with my ring. Don't authors understand (I growl at alley cats as I kick them) that today's literary marketplace is so intensely competitive that a poorly spelled manuscript can lose somebody a sale? A subspecies of the above-mentioned type misspells critical words and names, and misspells them consistently, focusing a glaring light on his or her own carelessness. I remember a Biblical novel in which the word "Pharaoh'' was misspelled "Pharoah" throughout, and in a book that long, that's a lot of Pharoahs. I have often wondered why, if the word is pronounced fayro, lexicographers have chosen to place the a before the o. In fact, what is an a doing in the second syllable at all? Such speculations do not mitigate one's intense annoyance at having to correct such errors over and over again in saga-length manuscripts. Speaking of repetitious errors, I'm reminded of those authors who print the title of their book as a header on every page of manuscript. I don't know where this quaint custom arose. I suppose it has its origins in the paranoiac fantasy that part of a manuscript will inadvertently be separated from the rest in a publisher's office. Against this remote possibility must be weighed the not-so-remote one that the title you print on every page of your manuscript will be a lousy one. Like many publishing people I am a fanatical believer in the importance of titles: a good or bad one can significantly affect the fate of a book. All too often I'll get a good book with a bad title, and after kicking alternate titles around the author and I will agree on a new one. I'll then prepare a new title page only to discover that the discarded title appears on every page of the manuscript. Now what? I must now either go out with a badly titled book or have the entire manuscript reprinted just to knock the offending title off every page. Luckily, the advent of word processing makes it easier to run off modified manuscripts. Authors who submit their only copy of a manuscript are, to say the least, an intense source of curiosity to me. They brazenly challenge the immutable law guaranteeing that that manuscript will get lost in the mails. Still, do us both a favor and leave the title off the header of every page. Nowadays manuscripts are submitted as email attachments. But many agents still prefer to read submissions in printed form. The peeve potential here is very high. On occasion an author will send me a manuscript ring-bound like a scientist's notebook. I ask myself what terrible thing I did to this person that he should avenge himself on me so cruelly. Am I supposed to read his manuscript standing up at a lectern, or remove the pages from the binding rings knowing that I will have to reassemble it when I am finished? I think it's time that writers understood something about literary agents: their standard reading posture is supine, head elevated sufficiently to glance at a baseball game or sitcom on television. Now that I've revealed this tightly guarded secret, perhaps you'll be more considerate and submit your manuscript unbound. And is it too much to ask while I'm at it that it be double spaced in 12-point font and printed on one side of the page only? And when you do post it, may I ask you not to have it bound or specially boxed or wrapped? Just a loose manuscript in a typing paper box wrapped and taped securely enough to get safely through the postal system. There seems to be a law of nature that the quality of a manuscript declines in inverse proportion to the elaborateness of its package. When I receive a manuscript bound by brass screws with a plastic embossed cover, lovingly wrapped in chamois cloth, set in a velvet-lined cedar box, shrink-wrapped, packed in turn in a fireproof strongbox secured with iron bands, I am prepared to stake my career on the likelihood that this book is one colossal dud. And in all likelihood it will be sent via Fedex or courier with the expectation of an overnight response. There is a particularly lukewarm place in my heart for foreign authors who are obliged to use typing paper of different dimensions - approximately ½ inch too long and ¼ inch too narrow - from the standard American 8½ by 11 inches. I realize how chauvinistic it must sound to deplore the paper that was probably good enough for Thomas Mann, Jean-Paul Sartre, and Graham Greene, but because agents usually place manuscripts in submission boxes to protect them and present them attractively, it drives us crazy to get a misshapen manuscript from the Continent requiring Procrustean measures to package the submission. Authors who submit their only copy of a manuscript are, to say the least, an intense source of curiosity to me. They brazenly challenge the immutable law guaranteeing that that manuscript will get lost in the mails. The advent of computer document management and cheap photocopy services has stimulated a rise in lost manuscripts, for authors who used to type an original and carbon now type an original only and bring it to a photocopy shop, where another immutable law causes it to get mixed up with somebody's master's thesis. Again, computers make the question of lost manuscripts academic, but computers can crash. So keeping a hard copy is definitely a good idea. Then there are the authors who administer tests to their agents. Some try a cute trick of turning one page in their manuscript upside down. If the agent returns the manuscript with that one page still upside down, it proves he didn't read the manuscript page for page. Plainly, the evil that authors do may be categorized as Class B Misdemeanors, punishable by groans, rolling eyes, sighs of frustration, and indulgent smiles. There are authors who quiz their agents about specific scenes and characters. A typical dialogue might sound like this: AUTHOR: Did you like my book? AGENT: Oh, yes, loved it, loved it. AUTHOR: Great. What did you think of my character Pflonk? AGENT: Pflonk? Terrific character. Nicely developed. AUTHOR: Hah! Gotcha! There was no such character in my book! I assure you that when it comes to an important book your agent reads your manuscript carefully. With so much riding on it, he has to. But most agents I know don't have time to read their clients' work page for page, nor do they need to in order to get a sense of its quality, organization, and pace. In fact, they don't even need to in order to sell it. With certain kinds of material, such as books in a series, a light once-over is enough to satisfy your agent that all is in order and the work follows the original outline. Plainly, the evil that authors do may be categorized as Class B Misdemeanors, punishable by groans, rolling eyes, sighs of frustration, and indulgent smiles. I would like to think that you are as tolerant of your agent's foibles. Agents do have them. (I know this only from talking to authors). There is one extremely successful agent who likes to boast he's never read anything he's sold. And there's another who, every time he makes a big deal for a client, gloats, "That will pay for a new set of radials for my sports car," or, "Now I can put that new wing on my house." I consider myself truly fortunate in not being possessed of any personality traits that irritate others. Well, maybe one or two. All right, maybe a few more than that. Okay, okay, so I'm riddled with them. But at least I know how to spell "Foreword." Copyright © by Richard Curtis. All Rights Reserved. ________________________________ View the full article

A question that comes up time and time again in workshops and with editorial clients, and it's always difficult to answer. Ultimately, the publication of bad novels, i.e., novels in any given genre deemed poorly written by any reasonable reader of that genre, is certainly not the fault of the reader, but of those involved in the actual publication process, from agent to publisher. How can it not be? Can one blame the gods or the stars in this matter? After working with scores of agents, I've met a few who really don't have a clue what makes for a good story. Ok, so let's just assume that only 20% of active literary agents currently pushing projects in the marketplace are a bit short on taste and knowledge. Well, what of it? That's still a lot of projects being pushed in the face of editors at major houses. Hopefully, editors, who are generally pretty sharp, will see through these loser manuscripts, but what if they are overworked, or too inexperienced, or don't get to read the whole novel? What if they trust the agent too much because they work for a respectable agency? What if their assistant or intern who "reads" the ms is fearful of saying no because he or she detects an atmosphere of optimism for it that will reflect badly on them if the truth gets told? What if the novel has been written by a name author and the reader knows he or she will lose their job if they raise a red flag and point out, for starters, those three glaring grammatical errors on the first two pages? Any number of scenarios are possible. After all, how can one possibly explain the publication of magnificent monstrosities over the years like Fan Tan, The Magicians, and The Emperor's Children, three of the worst novels ever written. What if the novel has been written by a name author and the reader knows he or she will lose their job if they raise a red flag and point out, for starters, those three glaring grammatical errors on the first two pages? If you get a chance, read the one and two star reviews written by real readers, not sock puppets of the publisher. It's a real eye opener. And there are many more, many more novels on the shelves not quite as bad those ancient ones above, but horrible enough that someone, somewhere, should have said something. But they did not, and yet, they were all, all represented by literary agents who are supposed to be the gatekeepers for the industry. Badly designed autos sometimes make it to the dealer floor, and heads roll, but bad novels rise to public attention far more often. Do heads roll? Perhaps the managers and successful agents at major agencies should keep a closer eye on employees who are doing a questionable job. Perhaps they should methodically use an independent reader critique group made up of experienced and unbiased readers, answerable only to top management and forbidden to interact with agency staff. Let's be realistic. How many times can you falsely praise a bad novel before buyers as a whole become fatigued and wary? ________________________________ View the full article

Brilliant portrayal of the classic, ignorant narcissist who one day decides he'll soon write a bestseller despite the obvious fact he knows little or nothing about developing and writing a novel. ________________________________

Consider, do screenplay writers or playwrights just begin writing without planning? Of course not. So why should the novel be different? And we're not talking about Beckett or Joycean flights of fancy, we're talking about the vast bulk of commercial novels, whether they be upmarket or genre. Ever heard this? Don't plan or outline your novel, let the character write the novel, or even more simply, "Just start writing." How many times have I heard that? And guess where? At a writer conference, of course. A certain type of author is asked whether or not they plot or outline ahead of time. They smile and say something like, "I've been asked this question before, and I have to say no, I don't outline. It just all comes to me, the character inhabits me..." or some such drivel. But let's be logical. If you understand the primary foundations for writing a novel you know your plot line must develop certain points as it moves forward, and you know also that you must write separate scenes in the novel to perform certain tasks relevant to the plot line, as well as to the character arcs, etc. It's a complex undertaking, and one that demands a certain amount of planning. If you are some kind of genius and can keep it all in your head, more power to you, but if you are like me, you need to organize and place ideas on paper (or on the computer). Also, logic dictates that if your novel plot lines are a series of circumstances, reversals, and events that tie together (like "Harry Potter"?), it only makes sense that you better know how point A gets to point M before you will know how point M gets to point Z. Consider, do screenplay writers or playwrights just begin writing without planning? Of course not. So why should the novel be different? And we're not talking about Beckett or Joycean flights of fancy, we're talking about the vast bulk of commercial novels, whether they be upmarket or genre. By the way, let me introduce you below to one of J.K. Rowling's outlines for a Harry Potter novel, Order of the Phoenix. Guess it's a little hard to argue that good ole J.K. didn't know what she was doing? Anyone see dollar signs? ________________________________ View the full article