Turn Out the Lights, the Party's Over

I feel like a broken record, but I'll say it again anyway: this part of storytelling is not as easy as it seems.

You're at the end end. It would seem that the all the hard parts are over. You don't even have to worry about the intensity of the climax anymore. This is the falling action. The aftermath.

The single-most frustrating part of any story, if not presented well.

The final pages are what your readers are going to remember the most. It's like the aftertaste of any given food or drink. You don't want your readers running to the bathroom and gargling with mouthwash. (out, damned spot!) It doesn't matter how wonderful the rest of the story was that they "chewed", if the ending doesn't hold up, you're screwed.

It is so important, in fact, that many book reviewers (including myself) will rate the ending on its own merit, using this as one of the main factors for a recommendation or non-recommendation.

Scared yet?



(Listen to Yoda. He's old. That means he knows stuff.)

To make it less scary, young padawan, focus on the basics of what a good ending includes:

1. Reader satisfaction. It has to feel like an ending. This is where many novels go wrong, in my opinion. The writer has the view that any good story is simply a "slice of life", which is true. You should be able to imagine events that happened before the story started and events that would continue after it ends. That makes it realistic.

But if you could just cut off that "slice of life" anywhere you damn well pleased, then it's not truly a story. Stories have beginnings, middles, and ends, and all of those work together. You cannot start a story just anywhere. You cannot end a story just anywhere. Each has a purpose.

2. The main plot threads are tied up, some of the minor ones are left loose. Again, this makes it realistic. Not everything gets wrapped up in a nice neat little bow at the end, but the major issues should. If not, there will be reader frustration instead of reader satisfaction.

While writing a first draft, I find it best to focus on only the main plot thread in the denouement, then add the other minor elements later (whether they be tied up or left loose is highly dependent on the individual story).

3. It is brief. The shorter a denouement, the better. This is the falling action, and it falls pretty quickly. The actual length, again, depends on the individual needs of the story, but in my experience, the newer you are to writing, the longer you tend to make your denouement. (The denouement in my first novel was, like, at least three chapters long? *rolls eyes*) The story question has been answered through the climax. There really shouldn't be much left to wrap up after that point. I find, as a reader, the best denouements are no more than a standard chapter in length, if even that. Most are much shorter. Some, only a page.

4. It has a clear circularity. This is especially true for short fiction, but it works for novels as well. Circularity indirectly enhances the feeling of reader satisfaction. You can offer circularity by revisiting the setting you started the story with. By repeating actions or dialogue or character viewpoint.

For example, in my short story "The Blade of Tears", I repeated a phrase on the final page that I'd already stated on page one, but changed it slightly to have a different meaning. The wording was similar enough that it gave the ending a nice circularity. The reader sees that and instantly remembers the beginning, and hopefully, understands how it all ties together. (By the way, speaking of keeping things brief, the denouement in that story is a single paragraph.)

The main reason for circularity is that it clearly shows the reader how the character changed over the course of the story. For instance, if he/she revisits the same place we'd seen them at the outset, yet with a different worldview now, this emphasizes the point of the story in the reader's mind. Shows them why this journey was important to the MC. Enhances reader satisfaction.

Yep. It's all about satisfying the reader. If you don't, they will NOT recommend your book to anyone.

5. It doesn't beat you over the head with philosophical parallels. If the reader finds some double-meaning in your story that applies to their personal life, that's wonderful. But a reader would much rather find it on their own than have you state it outright in your final sentences.

And not all good stories have to blow you away psychologically. Some are just for *gasp* entertainment. Good characters (read: not flat, not robots) will always learn something over the course of the story, but that doesn't mean if you relay it subtly that your reader won't pick up on it. Keep it realistic. If the MC has a mind-blowing self-discovery, by all means, emphasize it. But don't force it. That's annoying and makes you look like a pompous prick of an author.

6. Don't end on a dangler. Meaning, don't leave the ending so ambiguous and vague that the reader wonders if a page is missing. Where's the real ending? If you've seen the movie CASTAWAY then you should know what I'm talking about. The writers left it up to the audience to decide which road he went down. Sometimes this technique does work (as with the movie INCEPTION -- does the top fall or keep spinning?), but most of the time it just causes frustration in the worst way. Why? Because you didn't actually end the story! That simple.

Okay, I think that covers the bulk of it.

No surprise, the denouement in HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON follows all of the above suggestions. Most outstandingly, number 4. Hiccup's dialogue clearly brings us back to what we experienced in the opening scene, at the same time that we can see how the entire village has changed since then.

Opening voice-over:

This is Berk. It's twelve days north of hopeless and a few degrees south of freezing to death. It's located solidly on the meridian of misery.

My village. In a word, sturdy. It's been here for seven generations, but every single building is new. We have fishing, hunting, and a charming view of the sunsets. The only problems are the pests.

You see, most places have mice or mosquitoes. We have... dragons.

Ending voice-over:

This is Berk. It snows nine months of the year and hails the other three. Any food that grows here is tough and tasteless. The people that grow here are even more so.

The only upsides are the pets. While other places have ponies or parrots, we have... dragons.

If you think of it in the way that each beat in story structure has its opposite, the ending won't be quite as tough. It should be a flip side to your beginning. So when writing your ending, refer to your beginning for clues on how to best wrap things up.

I hope you all enjoyed this series on story structure this month as much as I enjoyed writing it. I learned a lot from it, too, just by refreshing my focus. Writing is a craft in which you never stop learning.

Don't think you're doomed if you don't quite understand it all yet. It will all come together the more you practice. And sometimes we learn more effectively when we allow ourselves the freedom to screw up. It's called trial and error, and I'm pretty sure every published author has been through it, multiple times.

(aside: If any of you participated in NaNoWriMo this month, I'd love to know how you fared. #amcurious)

Happy writing,
~Lydia

Previous posts in this series:

The Difference Between the Inciting Incident and the Catalyst
How To Set Up Your Story Without Boring Your Audience
The Great Debate: Should I Or Shouldn't I?
The Promise of Your Premise
What's Your (Mid)Point?
The Big Squeeze
Dropping the Bomb
The Grand Finale

REWRITES = KNOCKING YOUR HOUSE DOWN WITH DRAGON P*RN

Hey, it's Joe.

Are you rewriting yet? Why not? All the cool kids are doing it.

I don't just mean revisions or mild-to-moderate rewrites to correct inconsistencies or at the request of an agent. I mean total rewrites. Why?

There are a flurry of answers as to why people rewrite, the most common being they were requested. Or they were impatient with how long the piece was taking to sell to an agent or publisher and needed changed. Or they just didn't like it. Or yadda...

I just don't get it. Major rewrites are very popular right now, at least in the writing circles I'm a part of. Even my beloved Lydia is doing it, and dumping some very cool scenes that I wrote for her in the process. :( [ed: he's talking about my sci-fi novel, WEB. and yeah, I've dumped a lot of the original stuff in that one, including some scenes chapters Joe co-wrote. sorry]

Explain to me this: if you don't like the way the pictures are arranged in your living room, then why not just rearrange them? Or get some different pictures to add in? Why knock down the entire house because some part of the decorations don't sit well with you?

Some rewriting is necessary. But recently a young writer that I like reading, who will be successfully published someday, announced she was totally redoing her completed (and fully edited and re-edited) novel, into a totally different genre.

Huh? Seems a bit excessive.

Maybe I'll follow suit. One of my current WIP's is a YA dystopian with a strong military scifi element. Just to go with the flow, I am going to change it to...a...dragon-themed erotica novel. Maybe with sparkly vampires, if I can fit them in. I'm going to call it--

Doesn't matter what I'm going to call it. I'll just change it anyway.

And anyone who tries to get on me for wholly deleting my own stuff can bite me. Totally different topic. What I do in deleting and thereby destroying something I have created is cathartic. I'm not rewriting into something else. So there.

This post actually finds me at Black Friday, maybe even back from it already. I set it to auto-post itself at 7am so that I might have more time for pushing bad-tempered grannies and psychotic soccer moms down on my way to the remote controlled helicopter.

End meandering post.

Very Speshul Guest Post: "Stuff" by Little Joe

Hey. Psst! People inside the computer... it's me, Little Joe. I'm 6. I'm in Miss Mason's class. Miss Mason is nice. Except when she's not. I hate homework.

I hacked into my mom's googley account. She's in the kitchen making me chinnamon french toast. It's making my tummy talk. It smells like chinnamon and eggs in here now. It's better than the usual smell.

My dad's in the kitchen with her, so they don't know what I'm doing. They're arguing about something. Sounds like writing stuff. Again. All the time. Booooooooorrrrrriiiiiiinnnnnnnng.

My fayverit faverrit fayvrit color is red. And sometimes blue. My mom's eyes are blue. And sometimes red.

I found this on U-toob the other day? It is so funny. When I showed it to my mom she made a weird funny noise and a weird funny face and I laughed even more. She is crazy fun. Except when she's not. I hate homework.



I love U-toob and Star Wars.



This one is my favrit. I think these guys are all twins.



Cats are so funny too. I want a cat.



I don't watch U-toob all day. My fayvrit word isn't poop either. I just say it a lot because it makes my mom do funny weird things. She laughs when she's supposed to be mad. I think she flunked out of mom school before I was born.

That was a long time ago. Almost... *counting* (I can count to a hundred) 7 years. She's old.

Halo is excellent. So is Force Unleashed. I get to beat the bad guys. I can use a sniper rifle. Or a light saber. Or a greddernade. Or a rocket launcher. Or the envizabull force.

My mom makes me read a lot too. I act like I hate it but I really don't. Did you know there are eight planets in the solder system? My mom said there used to be nine. I think one of them died. Plato.

The most funniest book is DINOSAURS LOVE UNDERPANTS. I like dinosaurs and underpants so I like this book.

I'm going to eat my chinnamon french toast now.

Senseerly,
Me

The Grand Finale

And now we come to one of the absolute toughest parts of any story -- the end.

At the break into Act Three the main character(s) has made a proactive decision to go forward with a plan to fix everything that had been ruined up to this point. Looking at Blake Snyder's beat sheet, there's only two more beats after that -- The Finale and The Final Image (aka the denouement).

The Finale is almost the entire third act, in ONE beat. So... um... what exactly do you do there?

Pretty much whatever you want. This is the part of the story where you take everything you've presented in the previous 3/4 (acts one and two) and use it to maximize everything you feel is important about this story.

Which is why I suggested going back and reading through the story before writing Act Three.

By this point, you have a better idea of your theme. You know your MC's strengths and weaknesses. You know precisely why you felt the need to write this story, and you've gotten this far, so now you want to finish it.

This is where all your previous clues become blatantly clear to the reader. You revisit actions, dialogue, thoughts, etc. to drive home the pivotal moment of the climax where everything is set right again.

A superb example of this is in Lauren Oliver's BEFORE I FALL. The book is only seven chapters long, but each chapter covers a full day in Sam's life, the same day she keeps re-living. Every day she sees the same things and different things. All of these are clues to the reader, some more obvious than others, that give the ending MAJOR IMPACT. The reader is able to somewhat guess what's coming, while still being knocked out of their seat when they get to that point. Seriously. I'm personally not super-keen on how that book ended, but I can't deny how perfectly executed it was... and when I really think about it, it couldn't have ended any other way and had the same effect. I just don't like death. (and saying that someone dies at the end doesn't give anything away, trust me)

And this is where I take a moment to say OMG IF YOU HAVEN'T READ THAT BOOK YET DROP EVERYTHING AND DO IT NOW YOU WON'T REGRET IT.

*ahem* Moving on...

In the movie HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON the third act brings together all the elements we've seen up to that point. Everything we learned about dragons, the Vikings, Hiccup, his father, his peers, and the dragon nest, all converge into a final showdown. And the climax is the point where we know it has all been set right again. No more threat from the dragon nest. No more belittling Hiccup. No more denying that dragons can be helpful.

Looking at it this way, you'd think the ending would be easy. Sorry. It isn't. You can't use everything. You have to select the elements that would best serve the pivotal moment. Once you've done that, you have to find a way to give it both physical and emotional intensity without dragging it out too much or restating the obvious.

If you're having trouble figuring out what should happen in your final act, refer back to your logline and your inciting incident in chapter one.

Please don't tell me you've gotten this far and still don't have a logline. Please.

For those of you who have been listening to me, take your logline and your first chapter and remind yourself of the specific story question you posed to your readers at the outset. It's in there, even if you didn't conscientiously put it there. In fact, the best story questions are not obvious until the end... when they are answered.

The ending answers the story question. Period. If you don't know what your story question is, your ending will fall flat, guaranteed. And perhaps you'll also realize that your first chapter isn't quite up to par either. No surprise, really, that chapter one often undergoes the most rewrites on a second draft. But don't worry about that yet. First you need to write an ending.

If there is only one point in any given story where character motive and scene goals are abundantly clear, it's in Act Three. Everything in this section must PUSH FORWARD, no matter what hurdles appear. There will be setbacks, yes. That creates conflict and amps up the tension. But the time for sequel is over at this point. Anything that seemingly prevents the protagonist from achieving his/her goal is quickly overcome so the push can continue, all the way until the resolution at the climax.

Decisions are made spur-of-the-moment, which often creates even more conflict because the decisions are not very well thought-out. But this occurs out of necessity. There is an urgency in the Grand Finale that has not yet been seen at any other point in the story.

Every word must count. Every page must have a clear purpose. Personally, endings are the slowest writes for me during a first draft. Not only are you exhausted by everything you've written up to this point, but the pressure to fit all the pieces together perfectly is overwhelming. Sometimes I write, maybe, a couple pages in one sitting, then take a break. Whereas earlier parts might have come out a couple chapters at a time. Big difference.

So there it is. Your story question has been answered in the best way possible, but it's not quite over yet. There is one more thing, albeit small, that you must give your reader to seal in that feeling of satisfaction at the end -- the denouement.

Denouements get screwed up all the time, even from professionals, which is why I'm dedicating an entire post to it on Monday.

Joe and I have not yet decided if we're going to put up a post on Friday (I have to work -- yay for retail! NOT -- and Joe will be one of the crazies standing outside the stores at 2am), so this may be the final post of the week. Hope you all have a wonderful, relaxing, and fun next few days!

Happy writing,
~Lydia

Tuesday Tunes - Analogies, Metaphors, and Similes, Oh My!

My original idea for today's post was verging on "hostile rant" territory. It might have been fun, but I decided against it. Let me just say this, then we'll move on:

Unless you go to one extreme or the other, social networking is not going to make or break you in the world of publishing. So stop stressing over it. Stop listening to people who don't practice what they preach (yes, I'm talking about certain agents who have an online presence). Be smart, but be yourself, not some other person's idea of what you should be. If you feel the need to drop an F-bomb in a tweet, by all means, go for it. If you hated a novel that everyone else is raving about, don't be afraid to say so. That's not going to keep you from getting a book deal. Seriously. If you can't have your own opinions, then you are just a robot, programmed to think, speak, and act a certain way. Readers are not interested in robots (maybe robot-characters, but not robot-authors). They want someone who will interact with them. Social networking is a way to connect with, not just others in the industry, but with your readers, and the best way to show your readers what kind of person you are is to be... social. Imagine that. There is nothing wrong with being a real person. So get real.

Okay, I'm done now. And yes, I purposely left that all in one big block of a paragraph so that only the people who really care what it says will actually read it. If you don't care, skip it.


Now for the real topic of this post, which is, ironically, connected to twitter. I've been working on some extensive rewrites lately. Rewrites are tough for me, even though I know it's for the best in the long run. I was feeling very frustrated with it yesterday, and tweeted this:

I love rewriting. Yep. Love it like a bad hair day. No matter what I do, it still looks wrong. #cries

That tweet got some attention, mainly because people thought it was a good analogy. So my point is this -- never underestimate the power of comparative imagery. When I'm reading a story, this is one of the main things that stands out to me in an author's presentation. It's the sole reason Lolly Winston is one of my absolute favorite authors, even though her story structure leaves much to be desired. Reading her words is pleasant. Her writing is rife with similes.

But you can't just throw these into your story for the sake of having them there. The best comparisons are CLEARLY RELEVANT. Like the example of a bad hair day above. Trying to perfect your hair is very similar to trying to nail a rewrite. You work at it and work at and work at it, your frustration builds, it seems like it's never going to look right. Ever. And yes, there is usually crying involved.

Also, the use of the word "love" there is OPPOSITE of the real meaning. In that instance, love actually means hate. This creates dry wit, which is an effective way to impress a point in someone's mind. If you can make them laugh, you're in.

Did I actually think about all that when I wrote the tweet? Nope. It just came out, because it was SO TRUE of how I felt at that moment. I wanted to rip my hair out/ burn my novel.

Have you ever been amazed by a picture-perfect comparison?

SIMILES (funny how much that word looks like "smiles")



The misuse of apostrophes in that video is hilarious. Non-writers. Psshh! Think they know what's what. But I couldn't resist the mad baby face. Haha.

METAPHORS (and a few similes... and a whole lotta innuendo. you've been warned)



Oh dear, did Lydia just post a highly inappropriate song? For shame! Get that woman blacklisted, STAT! (nonsense. all of it.)

Click here for the official video. I used to swing dance in my younger days, and yes, I try to dance along with this video. I can't breathe and nearly have a heart attack, but it's just so fun! Let me have my fun.

Not in the mood for stupid people today,
~Lydia

Dropping the Bomb

I can't believe we're at the end of Act Two already. Yowza. If you planned to write a complete novel in a month, you're more than 2/3 done now.

Just after the Big Squeeze comes another major turning point of the story -- the All Is Lost moment, followed by the reaction period called the Dark Night of the Soul. And it's pretty self-explanatory. The main character seems to have lost everything he/she had going up to that point, with no way of fixing anything. No way to make it right again.

This is one of the most emotionally stirring points of any story.

Blake Snyder says, "It is the opposite of the midpoint in terms of an 'up' or a 'down.' It's also the point of the [story] most often labeled 'false defeat', for even though all looks black, it's only temporary. But it seems like a total defeat. All aspects of the hero's life are in shambles. Wreckage abounds. No hope." (Save the Cat! p. 86)

Some might think, But wait, I thought the "worst" part of the story was in Act Three. Isn't that where the Big Showdown occurs?

Yes. Yes, it is. But Act Three has an entirely different focus. It is very PROactive, whereas the end of Act Two is entirely REactive until the Break Into Three. What's the difference?

Before the MC can make the decision to fix it all at the break into the third act, he/she has to feel the full weight of everything that has occurred up to this point. The All Is Lost moment is a huge dramatic event. Then the MC reacts to it in sequel during the Dark Night of the Soul. This reactionary period ends with a clear decision to make things right again, no matter what the cost, which leads to a super-charged finale.

Act Three would not hold up to the hype of Act Two if not for this major setback. The ending would not satisfy. So it is imperative that your All Is Lost moment is both the worst thing that could possibly happen, up to that point, and is clearly relevant to the main premise.

For example, in (you guessed it) HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON, the All Is Lost moment occurs when Hiccup basically loses everything. His secret is revealed to the entire village, including his father, who then disowns him for going against the "Viking way."

And it doesn't stop there. Toothless is captured -- because, Thor Almighty, they finally got their hands on a Night Fury! -- and then he is used to find the dragon nest. So, not only is Hiccup separated from his beloved pet that he'd spent weeks training and bonding with, but he is worried about his father going off to fight what he believes is a losing battle.

For Hiccup, all is lost at this moment. He stands on the cliff edge, watching the ships disappear over the horizon. Then Astrid comes in, and it's time to talk this out. By the time they are through, Hiccup has made a clear proactive decision, and the story breaks into the final act.

In my opinion, the best reactionary periods here involve the main character and at least one other character. It's all well and good for the MC to come to their own conclusion on the matter, but it feels more realistic, to me, if they have another person to bounce thoughts off of. A sounding board. Quite often, we don't realize how to fix something until we've talked about it with someone else. Other people, someone sort of involved but not entirely so, can highlight a different perspective on recent events.

The reason the All Is Lost moment in HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON works so well is twofold.

1. This is basically a "buddy love" story. Throughout the events connecting to the premise, Hiccup and Toothless become friends. The best way to thrust the MC into the action of Act Three is to separate him from his friend and make him believe that he is in terrible danger.

This is the same technique used for any friendship story, and also for a typical romance. The All Is Lost moment involves separation. It has to, or there is no reason for the MC to fight to get the other person back.

2. Hiccup had been keeping a secret, for a long, long time. The best way to create a deep emotional impact is to have that secret revealed.

In this way, the All Is Lost moment is highly connected to the premise, making it clearly relevant to the audience just how bad this moment really is. The audience/reader has to feel like the MC has been crushed, even though they know it's not a true defeat. There's still a lot of story to go from here.

And that's what keeps them fully engaged. The question here is, Now what? How are they going to get out of this/ fix this/ somehow make it better? The MC answers that question at the break into Act Three, not really knowing if his/her plan will work, but this feels like the best option available.

It is these types of characters that we can root for. A weak character will allow others to make the decision. A strong character will decide what he/she and the others will do from this point forward. And they've been doing this all along, making decisions, not just reacting.

The reaction period after the All Is Lost moment will show the audience what your MC is truly made of. This is his/her moment to shine, even though they are at their lowest emotional point.

Now I'm going to suggest doing something that goes against the grain of standard writing advice (whatever standard means). Act Three is by far the toughest for me in a first draft. You have to tie everything together in a way that is somewhat expected yet not too predictable. Before going forward into this section, it can be helpful (for some, including me) to go back through the story, everything you've written up to that point.

Why?

Mainly, this will give you clues about the best way to move forward. You may have unknowingly hinted at things in earlier chapters, not realizing how perfect they would be in the final showdown until now. Readers love revisiting things, especially when you use them in ways they would have never guessed.

Another good reason to go back is to scrutinize how well you've portrayed your MC up to this point. How proactive has he/she been? This can help you pinpoint certain needed revisions for later, and help you decide what character traits are best emphasized in the all-important final moments before you write them.

Blake Snyder provides an excellent checklist that I think every fiction writer should keep framed and visible in their main writing area, for quick reference. He uses the term "hero" but that can be interchanged with "main character", and the main character can either be a single person or a group of people. (And, obviously, the hero can also be a heroine.)

1. Is your hero's goal clearly stated in the set-up? Is what your hero wants obvious to you and to the audience? If not, or if you don't know what your hero's goal is, figure it out. And make sure that goal is spoken and restated in action and words throughout the story.

2. Do clues of what to do next just come to your hero or does he seek them out? If it all happens too easily for your hero, something's wrong. Your hero cannot be handed his destiny, he must work for it at every step.

3. Is your hero active or passive? If the latter, you have a problem. Everything your hero does has to spring from his desire and his deeply held need to achieve his goal.

4. Do other characters tell your hero what to do or does he tell them? Others should look to him for answers, not the other way around. If you see a lot of question marks in your hero's dialogue, there's a problem.

(Save the Cat! p. 146)

Through my own experiences (read: mistakes) I've learned that it is best to know these things about your main character before you dive into writing the grand finale. But you don't necessarily have to fix any issues you find right away. You've got plenty of time for revisions when the first draft is done. Just remember what traits you're planning to change, and use this new, better version of your MC in the ending.

And the ending is all we have left to discuss now. Two more posts in this series on story structure and we're done. The next is on Wednesday, and the final will be one week from today. In the meantime,

Happy writing,
~Lydia

Tackling Self Doubt -- Step Away From the Mirror

We've all heard it. If you want to be a writer, you're going to get rejected. But sometimes rejection isn't the worst thing you have to battle. Sometimes it's your view of yourself that screws everything up.

Other people don't see what you see when you look in the mirror. Other writers/ agents/ editors don't see what you see when they read your work. There are ways you can keep your self-doubt in check, and the first step is always to get away from the mirror.

One of the things I love about being married is that if I'm unsure about some part of my appearance, I can ask for someone else's opinion. Granted, Joe is (more than) a bit biased in that area, but he has never been one to withhold vital information from me. Like, for instance, if I had something hanging out of my nose, he'd tell me. If my pantyline was showing, he'd tell me. If my hair looked like a frizz bomb, he'd tell me. And he does. My hair is almost always frizzy no matter what I do to it. He loves me anyway.

But when I happen to have an exceptionally good hair day and it's silky and shiny, he tells me that, too. If my jeans somehow make my flat butt look not so flat, he tells me. If my writing sucks, he tells me. And if I somehow hit the mark of excellence with a certain story or a description or a line of dialogue, he tells me.

What's the point? The point is that Joe is flesh and blood in my world. He's a real person. Sometimes with how much time we spend online, or just on the computer in general, writing, it's easy to forget how important the opinion of a living breathing human being is.

Every opinion is based on that person's own experiences, and when you know a bit about that person before hearing their opinion, one of two things can happen:

1) you realize the value of their opinion.
2) you realize they are full of it.

Much of the writing world hinges on personal opinion. Anyone who is active in the short story markets will tell you, the bulk of rejections come from the editor "just not liking it." Which is why form rejections are so prevalent. There is no solid reasoning behind the pass other than the story didn't jive with someone who read it, and that someone happened to be in charge. How do you explain that without unnecessarily hurting the writer's feelings? You don't. Form rejection.

The work of a writer is like any other artist -- you have to continually produce. This does not magically disappear once you break into publishing. Getting your work in print is not a shoe-in for later works. It helps, yes, but only in the sense that an agent or editor can see you have a "work history." Like anything else, if your last "job" in the field you're applying for was years ago, or your history is spotty and scattered, questioning brows will raise.

In publishing, the question is not only "what have you done for me lately?", it is also, even more so, "what can you do for me NOW?"

Regular self-checks are crucial to stay in the game. To stay ahead of the game. To stand out among the herd. To not give-in to self-doubt.

But that last one is tough. While you can look at your own work and clearly see whether or not your quality is improving over time, it can be difficult to focus on the facts, so to speak, when your current situation or recent events are creating a steamy fog.

You look in the mirror and see every rejection you've ever received as an insurmountable failure. Why bother writing another word? you ask yourself. This is a waste of time and effort. I would make more money doing [insert menial task here] for less than the minimum hourly wage.

That may be true, but you know, deep down, that you're a writer. It's time to step away from the mirror and the online community, and get a flesh and blood opinion of yourself.

Before I go any further, I must make this clear: I love the online writing community. They have helped me in ways I am eternally grateful for. Certain people I have contact with only online have been a pillar of support to me when things get really tough. My best critique partners are online -- I've never met them in person or even talked with them on the phone. And since I've only been published with a small press so far, the majority of my readers are online. I cannot discredit anything any one of these people has done for me.

But if I took those same words from someone I "know" online and put them into the mouth of someone I was talking to in person... wow, what a difference. It just feels more real. More credible.

Especially when you know this person is further along in the publishing game than you are.

Last night Joe and I met some local authors in person. Again, I must credit the online writing community for making this happen. I "met" about half these people online before finding out that a) they live in the same area as I do, and b) they meet for a book club discussion/ writers' discussion once a month.

I'm sure the first thing you're wondering is, OMG WHO WAS IT? I'm so horrible with names. I don't remember all the people I met, only the ones I already knew before I got there. If any of you were there last night and you see this post and I don't mention you, please shout it out in the comments so I can give you credit for the amazing discussion we had last night. Seriously, you all are awesome... I'm just so horrible at remembering names.

Here are the ones I know (huge apologies for whoever I forget):

Lisa and Laura Roecker, co-authors of The Liar Society, which is scheduled for release in March 2011.

I first "met" Lisa and Laura at WriteOnCon back in August, and have seen them at the monthly chats since then. Then I somehow found Lisa on twitter and as soon as she found out I live nearby, she invited me to their book club/writers' group. Which was awesome. But I'd actually already been invited, just the day before, by...

Scott Tracey, author of Witch Eyes, which is scheduled for release in September 2011.

I first "met" Scott at a #yalitchat on twitter. I think it was during last week's chat that he mentioned the writer's group in Cleveland, and then told me how great the group was, which included Lisa and Laura Roecker (mentioned above), and...

Leah Clifford, author of A Touch Mortal, which is scheduled for release in February 2011.

Before talking with Lisa and Scott, I'd actually never heard of Leah. My loss. She's an amazing writer and a deep thinker. I was glad to hear her thoughts on the book we'd read, and on her own publishing journey.

There were two picture book authors there as well, one who's book is scheduled for release early next year (Lindsey... something), and the other who's book has not yet sold (another L name... sorry, guys).

Wow. Just realized we almost all have L names. Haha. Okay, moving on...

What thrilled me the most about meeting these people in person was that they're all at different stages in the game. To hear their individual stories from their own mouths gave it a nuance that you can't perceive online through blog posts, interviews, and whatnot. I sat there engrossed by their experiences, soaking it all in, hoping some day I'd have a story of my own.

(Aside: But I also hope my story doesn't include the book cover horrors that Lisa and Laura have recently gone through. *hugsies* for you two.)

Then it was my turn. "Tell us a little about yourself, Lydia. What do you write?"

That's always the first question. Easily answered. Then they asked about the YA novel I've been querying. I spat out the gist of what the story is about, then we talked agents. And this is where I (finally!) get to the point of my post. (Let's call today Rambly Friday, shall we?)

I told them I'm rewriting some parts of the novel based on feedback I received from certain agents. Yes, plural, as in, more than one agent gave me specific feedback. In fact, of all the agents who requested the ms, I received more rejections with feedback than without. I thought this was normal, to the point of wondering why those one or two who didn't give feedback, didn't. I thought my writing must have been so horrible they couldn't muster a response other than a form rejection. I thought of giving up when I saw those FR's (yeah. sounds like effers). They made me think the agents who gave me feedback were "just being nice."

It kind of shocked the group that I'd actually received feedback from agents.

I think Scott's exact words were, "That's really rare. I got feedback from one agent. They don't usually take the time to do that." The rest of them nodded and agreed. Then someone asked, "Does [Awesome Agent X] want to see the revisions when you're done?"

To which I said, "Yes. In fact, I have a list of agents who want to see this again if I do any significant rewrites." More than one person replied, "Wow, that's really good." Someone else said, "You must have really impressed them." That wasn't the entire discussion (again, bad memory), but hearing these comments gave me a new reason to believe in my writing abilities.

I'd previously thought my novel must be total suckage to have not garnered me an offer yet. I haven't said that to anyone but my husband, but now you all know. Getting rejections, even with positive feedback, fogs up your mirror with self-doubt.

When you're stuck in this writing cave, your eyes start to play tricks on you. The tiniest of flaws becomes the scapegoat for everything negative you've experienced. Like when you can't get your hair to cooperate no matter what products you use, or how you style it... must be because you have the worst hair ever in the history of humanity. Might as well just shave your head, right?

Step away from the mirror and get another opinion on the matter. If you're lucky enough to have contact with other writers in person, don't take it for granted. Especially if these writers have already been down the road that is currently ahead of you. They are not just faces on a website with publishing stats. These are real people who have endured real struggles similar to yours. Embrace it. Learn from it. Apply it. Share it.

Have a great weekend,
~Lydia

The Big Squeeze

Thanks again to everyone for the well wishes! I honestly don't know what hit me yesterday (it felt like a half-assed migraine... enough to annoy me and nauseate me although not nearly as bad as some I've had in the past) but I'm feeling much better now.

The next part of story structure is the bulk of the second half of Act Two. It falls between the big midpoint reversal, which we talked about here, and the All Is Lost moment, when it seems as if the protagonist has utterly failed.

Blake Snyder calls it Bad Guys Close In. While that is an accurate description, it is a bit misleading. When I first read his book and I got to this part, I thought, But what if your antagonist isn't an actual person or object? The image of "bad guys closing in" always makes me think of your typical sci-fi movie, when it looks as if the antagonist might win. Which is fitting, considering the next point in structure is when the protagonist truly believes, if only for a moment, that they have lost everything.

But what about in romance? Or a "coming of age" story? Or a "circle of friends" story? The antagonist in those types of stories is not always a flesh-and-blood person (or thing) who can carry out actions against the protagonist. Sometimes the core conflict is inside the main character/s.

So I had to think about it harder. And that's when I realized, it's not really about bad guys, as in, a tangible force. It's about increasing the opposition, whatever that happens to be in your story.

That's why I call it The Big Squeeze.

Any good story will have conflict and tension from beginning to end, but it is amplified to the nth power in this section. It has to be, or the All Is Lost moment won't have the needed impact, which will lead to a weak Dark Night of the Soul (a huge point of character reflection), which will cause the decision to make things right again at the Break Into Act Three feel forced, at best.

It's all connected.

The Big Squeeze is, admittedly, one of the areas where I personally struggle the most. The main character has not yet made the decision to "fight to the death" in Act Three. They're kind of in limbo here. Stuff is happening too fast, and in ways they would have never imagined. They don't quite know what to make of it all yet.

This is where you really have to beat up your characters -- physically, emotionally, or both -- and that's hard. You want them to succeed and now you're doing everything you can to make it seem like they won't.

I repeat: it's hard.

But it must be done.

Let's take a look at this section in HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON. If you haven't yet seen this movie, um... WHY NOT?! I told you to go see it two and a half weeks ago, so that when we got to this point, you wouldn't have any spoilers. *sigh* If you're afraid of this spoiling the movie for you, don't read it yet. Get your butt in gear and go watch the movie, then come back to this.

-- Hiccup's midpoint reversal is when he realizes, for certain, that everything they (the Vikings) believed about dragons is really not true at all. Between here and the All Is Lost moment he has a series of BIG SQUEEZES:

-- His father returns and thinks he's doing well in dragon training because he is fighting dragons, which is not true. Now Hiccup finally has his father's approval, but it is because of a false assumption.

-- In the next scene, it's down to Hiccup and Astrid in the dragon fighting ring. One of them will win the honor of killing their first dragon before the entire village. Of course, since this is the last thing Hiccup wants to happen, he wins.

(Remember, Want + Obstacle = Tension. I actually have this written on a Post-It note stickied next to my laptop. It's that important, especially during this section of the story.)

-- When Astrid loses, this really pisses her off. She follows Hiccup and discovers his secret: he's been hiding a dragon -- and not just any dragon, the ever-elusive Night Fury! Hiccup and Toothless quickly win her over (with an awesome flying sequence), but the victory is short-lived. Astrid realizes the conflict here, that Hiccup has to kill a dragon and he is NOT a dragon killer, he's a dragon trainer.

-- The next big squeeze converges the two main plot threads, making it a major pinch point for the story. While Hiccup and Astrid are in flight, Toothless brings them to the dragon nest that the Vikings have been trying to find for... well, pretty much forever, so they can destroy it. What they see there is worse than any dragon they've ever encountered.

-- The final scene of The Big Squeeze is the most dramatic, as it should be. Hiccup has to kill a dragon in front of the entire village, including his father. He doesn't do it. He can't. This creates chaos. Toothless shows up in an attempt to rescue Hiccup, which then exposes everything Hiccup has been keeping secret. It also results in Toothless being held captive by the Vikings.

In the very next scene, Hiccup seems to have lost everything, with no way to fix it. That is the All Is Lost moment we'll discuss on Monday, in combination with the reflection that follows in the Dark Night of the Soul.

This all happens very quickly, giving it the necessary impact. Like being tied to the tracks of an oncoming freight train. Or looking up to see a piano dropping toward your head. Or being trapped in King Kong's grasp. You get the idea. It's a BIG SQUEEZE. The pressure is on. How can the protagonist possibly get out of this?

You want your reader asking the same question, flipping the pages in earnest to find the answer.

Happy writing,
~Lydia

Everybody Hurts

Sorry, guys, I'm not up to par today, physically or mentally. Here is a song and video I've always enjoyed, albeit somewhat depressing. Look beyond the obvious, though. This video would be nothing without the subtitles. It's another great example of smart presentation.

Embedding is disabled so you'll have to click on the linky-link:

R.E.M. "Everybody Hurts"

See you all tomorrow,
~Lydia

Tuesday Tunes - Creating a Universal Appeal

No story is going to resonate with every single person who reads it. But if you can find a way to make something about your story universal, your readership greatly increases.

That "universal something" can be large or small. It can be a trait of the main character (a desire, a fear, a quirk, etc), or it can be a main thread of the plot (survival, love, family, etc). You get the idea.

When you give your story something universal, you're stepping away from your own needs, as the author, and focusing on the needs of your audience.

Take, for example, the following two videos. Listening to the songs without the video accompaniment, you may or may not relate to the lyrics. But what both these artists did for their videos (or whoever was in charge of making them, I honestly don't know) was just so... smart. They took the song and put it into the mouths of several other people.

Now, suddenly, the song relates to the "every man." We, the audience, can clearly see this, so we feel a connection as well. We think, yeah, that could be me.

These are two of my favorite videos. If you can think of any others that create a similar universal appeal, please link them in the comments. Enjoy!

~Lydia








EDIT:

Thanks to Claire Dawn for reminding me of this video, another one of my faves.

What's Your (Mid)Point?

Of all the different parts of story structure, I think midpoint was the most elusive to me. It's kind of like the "show, don't tell" mantra. You don't fully understand it until you figure it out for yourself through practice. So I'll do my best to explain this today, but don't worry if it still doesn't quite click for you just yet.

I mentioned in a previous post that act two is disproportionately larger than acts one and three. It is half your story, while the other two acts are one-quarter each. This is the meat of your story. The all-important middle. And because it is so large, it can be neatly divided into two halves itself, thus creating a perfect spot for the midpoint of the entire story.

Midpoint is one of the least talked about areas of three-act structure, and this confuses me because I personally feel it is one of the most important. It is one of the three major turning points, which is the foundation of a good pitch (inciting incident and/or catalyst, midpoint, all is lost and/or break into three). The reason for this is that it is highly connected to both the main character's motivation and the outworking of the main plot.

Once you understand midpoint, you will never complain about a sagging middle.

If you view midpoint as one of your main points to write toward, the middle section, act two, becomes less of a chore. Again, this is half your story, so trudging through this section because you're only focusing on the big bangs of act three will pretty much kill your novel. Forget about all the awesomeness you have planned for that final showdown (for now). You've just maximized your premise in the first half of act two, you've made it abundantly clear to your audience. Before things start to snowball into the worst of nightmares for your characters, take a step back and assess both where you've been and where you're headed in the story.

midpoint = a realization of major change, a reversal in viewpoint or events

There are realizations throughout any good story, but the midpoint realization is huge. Why? Because it's a reversal. Understanding this point is so crucial to the story that I would go as far as to say:

If you don't know your midpoint before you start writing your story, you will...

...allow your story to go astray before you get to the middle, and then have no clue where you went wrong or how to fix it without major headaches.

...relay an interesting but irrelevant course of events by the time you reach act three, and then have no clue how to tie them all together for a satisfying ending.

...have a flat story arc.

Let's discuss that last one for a minute. In a typical arc, the highest point is the middle. I've been watching Joe play softball for 10+ years now. In a standard underhand pitch, the softball follows a clear arc. It rises up to a certain point then falls down again just before the batter blasts it out of the park.

That's how your story flows. Everything in the first half builds up to the midpoint realization, then it all tumbles down toward the climax -- the sweet connection with the bat that results in a homerun with your audience.

When sketching out the structure for my YA novel, SUMMER HOAX, midpoint was one of the first things I had clear in my head. Before I started writing the actual story, I already knew that a) Ben tells Diana he is gay (inciting incident), b) Diana agrees to be his fake girlfriend for the summer (break into act two), and c) Diana inadvertently falls in love with Ben during the course of their summer hoax (midpoint).

(Aside: This is the last time I'm going to use this particular novel in my examples for structure, because if I go any further it will reveal too much about the story, and it is, as of now, unpublished. But anyone who has seen my query letter already knows this part of it. Like I said earlier, midpoint is one of the three major turns you should include in a pitch.)

Diana's realization that she has real feelings for someone who cannot reciprocate those feelings is HUGE. In the beginning of the story, she didn't really care for Ben at all. He annoyed her. She thought he was a womanizing jerk. But then she gets to know him more intimately by spending time with him, she understands the reasoning behind what she'd previously only seen on the surface, and she couples that with the knowledge that he has trusted her with his big secret. Her viewpoint is reversed.

You must know the reversal before you can move forward and make things worse. Depending on the nature of your reversal, your midpoint will either be a false peak or a false collapse.

In the case of SUMMER HOAX, it was a false peak. When Diana first realizes what's going on in her head and her heart, she is devastated, but quickly makes the decision that as long as she keeps it all to herself, nothing will come of it. Things will be just fine. Their fake relationship will be over within a few weeks. They will both move on to bigger and better things in their separate lives. And in the meantime, she can enjoy Ben's company without any bad consequences.

She is wrong. But I couldn't emphasize just how wrong she was and make things worse for her until I made it clear to the reader that she had this major viewpoint reversal. It happens right smack dab in the middle of the story, right where it should, because that is where it will have the most effective impact.

An outstanding example of a false peak midpoint is in BEE MOVIE. Just after Barry and company win the infamous Honey Trial, the bees think they've got it made. They've reclaimed what was taken from them. No more slaving over honey production. Everything is good.

Not. Shortly after this false peak, it is clear to the audience that winning the Honey Trial was one of the worst things that could happen in the story. Without a need for more honey, there is no need for the bees to collect pollen. Without cross-pollenization, all the flowers die. Crap. Now something has to be done to put everything right again.

In HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON, the midpoint realization is revealed in a single line of dialogue from Hiccup's own mouth: "Everything we know about [dragons] is wrong." Now what's he going to do about it? And how will this affect his village if it becomes known?

In PITCH BLACK, the midpoint realization is a false collapse. All the characters have been trying to do since the inciting incident (the crash) is get off the planet alive. During the first half of act two they think they've got everything they need to make that a reality, despite all the bad that's happened so far. But then they find themselves back at square one, on the wrong side of the canyon, and their best chance at survival is trusting a sadistic serial murderer because he can see in the dark.

In this case, the reversal is not in the viewpoint -- they still don't feel they can trust Riddick. The reversal is in the act of putting their lives in (seemingly) more danger when they're main goal is to survive, even though they do this just because it is the lesser of two evils. Sort of. So it is a "false collapse" in the sense that the characters likely believe they are dead no matter what happens now. It's just a matter of when and by what means, and we see that emphasized in the second half of act two as the characters and events tumble toward the climax.

Understanding midpoint is crucial to good storytelling. When someone asks, "What's the point of your story?", what you should hear is, "What's your midpoint?" Because if you can answer that question, everything that surrounds it will fall into natural order.

Happy writing,
~Lydia

Prior posts in this month's series on story structure:

The Difference Between the Inciting Incident and the Catalyst
How To Set Up Your Story Without Boring Your Audience
The Great Debate: Should I or Shouldn't I?
The Promise of Your Premise

Special Guest Post: "Multiple Points of View" by Juliette Wade

Please give a hearty welcome to SF/F author Juliette Wade!

Juliette has short fiction published in Analog magazine and in the anthology Eight Against Reality. On her blog, TalkToYoUniverse, she discusses linguistics and anthropology as they relate to writing speculative fiction. Click here to view her previous guest post on this blog. For more info, including her upcoming release in Analog, please visit her website, here.

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Thanks very much, Lydia, for inviting me! It's always a pleasure to visit The Sharp Angle. I thought I'd take this opportunity to talk about point of view - specifically, about times when we might be tempted to use more than one viewpoint character.

I use multiple points of view all the time, and I love doing it, but not all of my stories require it. For example, my Analog 2008 story "Let the Word Take Me" uses two viewpoint characters, as does "At Cross Purposes" (out now!). "The Eminence's Match" used five viewpoint characters (Panverse, 2010) - but "Cold Words" only used one (Analog 2009). This is not just chance; it's choice.   Thus, in this post, the issues I want to deal with are why a writer would choose to use more than one point of view, and how they might go about it.

Why would you choose to use more than one point of view character?

The most obvious reason is that a single point of view is limiting. I've seen lots of stories (and story drafts) where authors departed from a single point of view in order to divulge information that the reader couldn't learn from the primary point of view character. To my mind, though, information isn't really the best reason to change points of view. Point of view does place limitations on how information is presented - that's true. But those limitations can actually help you by keeping the story focused, and allowing you to maintain a sense of mystery without appearing to withhold information deliberately from the reader. If information was all you were after, you could always drop clues in the environment of your viewpoint character - clues that the reader would understand, but that the character wouldn't necessarily draw conclusions from.

So, when might it be a good idea to use more than one point of view character?

It might be a good idea if:

1. ...you want to show how your protagonist appears to others.
2. ...your main viewpoint character is unreliable.
3. ...the contrast between your protagonist's viewpoint and another person's viewpoint is central to the story conflict.
4. ...you want to show precisely how dangerous your antagonist is.

I've seen each of these different reasons used to justify introducing an additional point of view. C.S. Friedman used what I'd call a throwaway point of view - one that appeared for a single scene only - in her novel, In Conquest Born.  It turned out to be a very effective way to show just how powerful and attractive yet cold-blooded her male protagonist was.  I suppose this could be categorized as a combination of 1 and 4 (he was a sort of anti-protagonist).

You don't have to restrict yourself to one reason to introduce a new point of view character.  It's often good if you can use more than one, or all four!  In The Eminence's Match, both of the two main points of view are unreliable (#2).  Imbati Xinta is unreliable because he's got bad self-esteem, which makes it important to do a little bit of #1, showing what he looks like through other people's eyes.  The Eminence, our antagonist, is unreliable because he's mentally ill, which makes him a good candidate for both #1 and #4.  Furthermore, the contrast between the two of them is also very important to the resolution of the central conflict, which falls under #3.

There are some things to watch out for.  Throwaway viewpoint characters can disorient readers, because they can confuse them as to who is most important, and where the main conflict of the story is.  I don't tend to use them at all, and certainly they need to be clearly distinguished from major viewpoint characters. 

For a major viewpoint character to work, the character has to be strong enough to handle the attention.  Most importantly to my mind, the character has to have goals and stakes independent of those belonging to another viewpoint character. 

When I first imagined writing "Cold Words," I imagined there would be both human and non-human points of view - but not for any particularly good reason.  I figured the contrast between them might be helpful for driving the story.  However, a friend of mine pointed out that humans had very little to gain in the story.  Nothing that readers would really care about.  The one who had everything to gain, and everything to lose, was the alien character.  I therefore changed my mind and stuck with the single point of view.  Then when I started designing "At Cross Purposes" I spent a lot of time trying to understand what each of the characters had to gain and lose in the story scenario - because I knew that both had to have independent goals and stakes for the story to work well.  I managed to find these independent motivations, and therefore I kept both points of view in the story.

So what does a point of view switch allow you to do?

The list is longer than I can go into here, but I'll tell you what it does that I particularly like.  It allows me to show the same situation from two different viewpoints, and show readers precisely how one character fails to understand the way the other one conceptualizes the situation.  In fact, similar situations of misunderstanding underlie each of my Analog stories.  Here's an example:

Person A walks into a guarded room where Person B is reading, and Person A gets grabbed by the guard.  Person B sees a potential friend being abused, takes a risk to get the guard to release Person A, and then starts up a friendly conversation with her.  Person A happens to be in disguise, looking for something particular in this guarded room, and Person B is not a potential friend at all, but very dangerous.  In fact, as readers know from visiting Person B's head, he isn't just dangerous, but could have her killed with a word. 

Perhaps you can see the kind of tension set up by the contrast between the way the two people misunderstand this situation, as readers wonder if and when each person is going to find out the truth.

The last thing I need to mention here is "head-hopping."  The term is actually a criticism of out-of-control switches in point of view.  I often see people recommend that writers stick with a single point of view for the duration of a scene, or of a chapter, rather than jumping from one viewpoint to another without warning.  While this is good advice, it's not for everyone.  Some authors are able to control their viewpoint switches well enough to give sufficient warning - that way no one gets confused, and the switch occurs without any trouble.  For example, Frank Herbert's Dune switches around point of view quite a bit, but I never found it disorienting.

What I'd like to add to the discussion is that, as a writer, you can send a message not only by setting up contrasting points of view, but picking when you switch between them.  You can break off one viewpoint and switch to another at a moment when the second person is secretly doing something that will really hurt - or help - the first one.  You can break off when one character is wondering about the other, and show a contrast between character A's expectations and what character B is actually doing.  Or you can even switch when both characters are in the middle of an interaction with each other, such as switching from one to the other just when character A becomes suspicious of, or falls for, or attacks, character B.  This creates a situation where you can treat the reader to witnessing both the motive for the action of A on B, and the reaction of B to that.  If you happen to be switching chapters at the same time, that can make for a fabulous cliffhanger!

Those are my thoughts for today - I'd love to hear yours.  Thanks again to Lydia for the invitation.
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Thanks, Juliette! These are some excellent points to consider.
~Lydia

What Are You Absorbing?

A few weeks ago I conducted a (not quite official) poll of the readers here, and the vast majority of you are novelists aspiring publication who view writing as a career.

Which is great. Me, too. I may already have short fiction pubs (in books even!) but they are so not the same thing as a novel.

The online writing community has exploded with activity in the last couple years. Anyone and everyone who is a writer or who wants to be a writer is blogging, chatting, tweeting, etc. Agents and editors are getting in on it, too. Bottom line -- there is a lot of information out there to absorb.

Sometimes too much. Especially when you're just starting out.

When I started my first novel, I didn't even think to look for any writing tips online. I went straight to the library. I wanted to write a book, so I read books. It made sense, and it was easy to digest as a newbie, one book at a time.

Since then I've (obviously) become more involved with the online community, which is great for getting feedback on your work and publicizing your product. My interactions with other writers, agents, and editors online has helped me make forward progress on my career path more quickly than I'd ever imagined.

But every so often, it gets to be too much. I need to take a step back and focus on just one thing. A book, preferably. Books can be absorbed, and when you're looking for help in a specific area, this sustained effect of absorption is exactly what you need.

I also think that older books regarding the publishing industry are severely undervalued. Everyone is so focused on staying up to date with the latest trends, they forget there are certain viewpoints we should acquire, and habits we should form, that have a lasting value. They do not change with technology.

I recently downloaded a book by literary agent Donald Maass that I hadn't known about. I've heard bundles of praise for his Writing the Breakout Novel, and have my own copy of his latest, The Fire In Fiction, which I love, but he had also written a book in the mid-90's called The Career Novelist.

This book is awesome. I knew it would be, because it has the typical Maass flair (the man has a knack for teaching and explaining things in a way that is easily understood). Now, granted, there are some points where the book does date itself by referring to "modern publishing in the nineties", which we all know is before the e-book explosion and the everything-we-do-online-daily-now-and-take-for-granted explosion.

But the majority of information in this book is timeless, especially for those of us yet-to-be-published. It will help you develop a realistic attitude toward this career you've already chosen.

I think you all should download it today and read it over the weekend. It's a free download. Seriously, you've got nothing to lose by doing this. Step away from the dizzying information overload on the internet for a day and read this book.

Click HERE. Absorb something. Retain it. Use it.

Happy reading,
~Lydia

The Promise of Your Premise

This part of story structure always gets my heart pumping. Act One is over. The characters have been presented with a significant change in their world, they've calculated the risks, and they've made a clear decision to move forward regardless.

Act Two begins with what Blake Snyder calls "Fun and Games", and appropriately so. In my opinion, it's the most fun part to write. This section contains half of your second act, and finishes out the first half of your entire story. It runs from the tail end of your debate, right after that all-important decision was made, up to the midpoint of the story. We'll discuss midpoint in more detail on Monday.

Today is all about premise. The Fun and Games section of your story is "the promise of your premise." This is where you, as the author, ask yourself the most "what if" questions. Everything you present in this section is meant to maximize your main premise, make it abundantly clear to the reader, while at the same time building more and more conflict as the characters approach the climax.

It may be called "fun and games" but much of this section is rarely actually fun for the characters. The audience, however, LOVES it.

Determining what to present in this section is probably the easiest of any part of the structure. Unless, of course, you don't have a clear premise in mind before you start.

We're going to back up a bit. Longtime readers of this blog probably already know what I'm about to say, but I could say this in EVERY blog post and it still wouldn't be enough. You ready?

Write a logline before you start writing the story. A logline is a one-sentence description of your premise. Your what? Your PREMISE!

Why is premise so important? To put it simply, premise is what will sell your audience on your story. It's what gets them to buy your book after reading only the jacket blurb. It's what gets agents to request your manuscript after reading only a query letter.

(Aside: I am living proof of that. The number one comment I've received from agents is that SUMMER HOAX has an outstanding premise. Not surprisingly, I wrote the logline for this story before I wrote any part of the story itself. I referred back to this logline as often as I needed to in order to stay focused on my main premise. When I got to the Fun and Games section... I cannot even describe how excited I was to write those parts. This is it! We're here! *rubs hands together and cackles maniacally*

That story, however, has only "sold" to agents so far (sold meaning they were interested enough in the premise to request the manuscript). In the three short stories I've sold in the financial sense, the same is true. The premise for "The Keeper of Secrets" focuses on the main character keeping secrets. The premise for "The Blade of Tears" focuses on how the weapon called The Blade of Tears helps the MC out of her bad situation. The premise for "Spread Your Wings and Die" focuses on the MC, a dragon, risking death to take flight out of captivity.

What, you thought story structure was only for novels? No. I use this structure for everything I write, even stories as short as flash fiction. Why? Because it works.)

When writing a logline, title is so important. The title is half your logline, and these are all things you should know beforehand, or you can easily write yourself astray. Title = what your story is about = premise. It's that simple. Is your title doing your story justice?

When you see the title HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON, you may not know any of the details of what happens yet, but you can make an educated guess. In the Fun and Games part of that movie (surprise!) we see Hiccup training his dragon.

Well... duh. And in my opinion, it is one of the best parts of the entire film. It has the best music, the best sequences, the best everything. It gets me excited every time I watch it. I want Hiccup to succeed in everything he does. Train that dragon, boy! I am totally hooked at this point, and I'm loving it.

In SUMMER HOAX, the Fun and Games section starts with (surprise!) the summer hoax. Ben and Diana are pretending to be boyfriend and girlfriend for the summer. The very first paragraph of my second act makes it clear the characters are now knee-deep in the premise, whether for good or bad or whatever happens next.

The word awkward did not even begin to describe how Tuesday went, working not only a full seven hour shift after one day of training, but doing so alongside my new boyfriend who really wasn't.  Every time I delivered a ticket to the kitchen or picked up a tray, Ben thought he had to make things obvious and wink at me, or make a comment (Grazie, Bella!), or enjoy kneading his dough balls a little too much while ogling my chest (because a one-size-too-big polo shirt cut for a man's body was just that flattering).

By the time we took our first break--together, of course--all the restaurant employees were buzzing with "Oh, aren't they cute?" and "Looks like Ben finally found himself a nice girl."

You have a lot of room to maximize your premise in this section of the story. But like I said, it's not necessarily going to be fun for the characters. It depends on the story how much good vs bad you're going to show here. In HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON, most of this section entails good things happening for Hiccup.

Or so he thinks.

See, the whole time Hiccup is training his dragon, he's finding ways to "fight" the other dragons in his official dragon training without really hurting them. He's already determined in Act One that he is not a dragon killer. And while he believes everything is going well for him, we see Astrid getting more and more agitated with his success, and we see the village getting more and more impressed with his success. Both of these things will factor greatly in later parts of the story, when things start to crumble terribly fast after the midpoint.

Maximizing your premise means not only showing how things can go well for your characters, but more importantly, how it all can go very very wrong.

During the Fun and Games, the first half of Act Two, we see...

In JURASSIC PARK, the characters experience all the wonders of a dinosaur park while at the same time, without their knowledge, actions have already begun to sabotage everything.

In ICE AGE, all the fun weirdness of a woolly mammoth, a sloth, and a saber-tooth tiger somehow caring for a human baby is emphasized, while at the same time, only one of them knows they are being led into a trap.

In FINDING NEMO, Marlin and Dory are in full pursuit while being bombarded with obstacles, one right after the other, right after the other.

Notice again how important the title is. I cannot emphasize this enough. Title = what your story is about = premise.

The start of Act Two is also where your B story becomes clear, but like I said this past Monday, for the sake of keeping things short(er) I'm only going to focus on the main plot points.

So when it comes time to maximize your premise, you must first know your premise. If you cannot describe your story in one sentence, you very likely won't do your story any justice when you've reached this all-important break into the second act.

1. Write a logline that includes a relevant title.

2. Ask yourself as many "what if" questions you can, then decide which of those will fit best in the beginning parts of Act Two and which will fit best in the later parts of Act Two, or perhaps even Act Three, near the climax. The worse something is, the later it should happen in the story.

3. Don't forget the good things. The fun things. This is, after all, entertainment. And because things will continue to get worse and worse as the story moves along, the first half of the second act is prime real estate for having a bit of fun before all hell breaks loose.

In the movie INCEPTION, the Fun and Games part is where the audience learns all the ins and outs of inception while they're teaching the new "architect." (Forgive me, I can't remember her name.) Again, clearly relevant to both the title and the premise, but this is also where I remember the audience had the most LOLs. And that film is not even meant to be a comedy. It just happens, though, when you maximize your premise correctly.

You're showing your audience the core nugget of your idea. You're providing them with the premise you promised in your pitch. The good, the bad, and all the crazy that follows. Have fun with it. Let your passion for the story take over. Because it (literally) all goes downhill from here.

Happy writing,
~Lydia

Tuesday Tunes - Bipolar

Our reader count broke 300 last night. I'm amazed. *blushes*

But that made me realize that all you new readers might not know that Joe has bipolar. He is currently going through a really rough period, which is why he hasn't been writing as many blog posts as he did before. Many of you have yet to experience the awesomeness of Joe's writing.

Maybe soon. Hopefully.

In the meantime, you're stuck with little ol' me. But since I'm married to Joe, bipolar is a huge part of my daily life. It's not easy for the person who has it, or anyone who has to live with the person who has it. Sometimes I forget that a vast majority of people out there have no clue what this entails.

Including authors.

I read a lot, and every so often I'll come across a mention of bipolar in a novel, and it is usually presented in a very bad light. Well, yeah, it IS a horrible disease, and it makes people do crazy-ass things, but just like anything else you would present in a character, DO YOUR EFFING RESEARCH.

Most people who have bipolar do not like what it does to them. There is more than one side to this, and even the person who has it doesn't always understand everything going on in their own head. They are not psycho-manic all the time. They cry a lot. They feel vulnerable. They HATE being on medication that works great for a while then just stops working for no known reason. It's hard to keep your hopes high when you feel like your life is in a continual downward spiral, when you see all your potential to do great things flying out of grasp.

They also have a huge capacity for love when all the stars of their traumatic life align.

Many musicians (and other artists) have been diagnosed with bipolar. For some reason, people who have this disease are both genius intellectuals and artistically inclined. Maybe it's this strong combination of two polar opposites that creates confusion in the brain and makes it fritz like a shorted out electrical panel. Not sure.

Today's song is an open window into the mind of someone who is fighting a beast inside their head. It's a war that never ends, no matter how many battles have been fought and won.

Lithium by Evanescence

Lithium is a naturally-occurring element, and pretty much anyone diagnosed with bipolar takes this drug at one point or another. When Joe started taking lithium he said it was a miracle drug. He's been on it for almost two years now.

I love the lyrics in this song. There is a clear love-hate relationship with feeling better yet longing for the part of you that the drug is subduing.

Look closely at these lyrics. Pause the video at certain points and study the true meaning behind what's being said. This song gives me chills because it hits so close to home. Maybe for you, it will simply help you understand. If anyone has questions about bipolar, either for writing purposes or just because you're curious, please feel free to email me or Joe: lydiasharp4sff (at) yahoo (dot) com, joesharp4sff (at) yahoo (dot) com. Or ask in the comments if you don't mind it being public.



~Lydia

The Great Debate: Should I or Shouldn't I?

I think it's time I laid out my disclaimer.

I really really (really!) LOVE talking about story structure. The structure I use for my novels is actually a screenwriting structure created by the late Blake Snyder and can be found in his book Save the Cat!

Just because I use this structure doesn't mean I write my novels like I would a screenplay. No, not even close. I use the Beat Sheet as a guideline, that is all. If I wanted to write screenplays, I would. I might even have a measure of success at it--you all know how much I love movies. But I'm not a screenwriter, I'm a novelist. Why? Because I find more satisfaction and joy in writing my lengthier stories in novel form.

However, I write commercial fiction, and I find that my stories have a much more commercial appeal if written using this structure as a guideline. No matter what I'm writing--science fiction, fantasy, women's fiction, young adult--I want my readers to have fun while experiencing my stories. And I want my stuff to sell (not gonna lie). This may not be your personal goal as a writer, so take any advice I give with a grain of salt. It may or may not work for you. All I'm saying in these posts is, It works for me.

Okay, I think we can move on now.

You've set up your story, you've introduced your catalyst, now it's time for some serious decision-making on the part of the main character(s). This is, not-so-ironically, called the debate. The stakes have been raised to the point that they can no longer be ignored. The characters must do something, and they must do it NOW.

As I'd mentioned before, every debate is going to result in the characters moving forward into the action of the main premise, which is the point where the story breaks into the second act. (We'll discuss premise more deeply in Wednesday's post.) So the debate is your last big thing of act one. And, again, just because the audience knows ahead of time what decision the characters are ultimately going to make, doesn't mean the debate section of your story is boring.

To prove it, lets take a look at the debates of some specific examples.

When you think of "should I or shouldn't I?", naturally you think of laying out all your options and deciding whether the risks are worth it. That is exactly what this is, but debate does not = info dump.

Just as in your set-up events continue to take place, the same goes for your debate. Any action and dialogue that will help the characters make their decision can be presented in the debate. It has to be clear.

In HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON, the debate begins just after the catalyst, when Hiccup finds the Night Fury in a vulnerable position. He knows he should kill it. This is the moment to prove what he's worth. But he won't do it. He lets it go.

Now he's wondering what this all means, and in the meantime, he's been put in official dragon training with his peers. Everything he learns from this point in the story to when he actually starts training his own dragon--that's the main premise (obvs, just look at the title)--is Hiccup's debate period.

What happens during the debate?

Hiccup has a chance to kill the Night Fury, and he frees it instead. The Night Fury then has a chance to kill Hiccup, and it doesn't. Those are the two main points of the catalyst that you need to understand for the debate to make sense.

Hiccup realizes he actually doesn't want to fight dragons like he thought he did in the beginning, but his father has signed him up for dragon training. (problem!) Dragon training begins, and Hiccup learns the techniques for evading and killing. The accepted view of dragons in his world is emphasized. We learn more specifics about the risks of dragon encounters. Clear risks = heightened tension and conflict = keeping your audience engaged.

His first day of training ends with Gobber saying, "A dragon will always go for the kill." Then we cut to the next scene, and Hiccup says, "So why didn't you?" Definitely a debate going on in his head now. Why is this dragon different? And what am I going to do about it?

Then he sits down and reads the dragon manual. More info. More debate. This section of relaying information is kept tense by the repetitive phrase "Kill on sight" after he reads about each different dragon. Then he gets to the page on Night Furies and it's blank. Hiccup realizes he has a rare opportunity to fill those pages with his own hands-on experience.

At his next day of dragon training, he's asking all sorts of questions about Night Furies, and not getting any answers. He's also not doing very well with the dragon in the ring. That scene ends with Astrid saying, "Figure out what side you're on."

Should he become a dragon killer, like everyone expects? Or is he meant for something different? Should I or shouldn't I?

This is the point when Hiccup makes his decision. He's going to learn as much as he can about the Night Fury, in secret. Debate is over. Now the story can move on to the really fun part of the premise. But there is one final action that solidifies this decision in Hiccup's mind. I'm not going to say what it is, in case you haven't seen the movie yet, but this scene is really quite amazing. It makes me teary-eyed every time. And it ends with Hiccup (and the audience) seeing clearly that this dragon is thoroughly trainable. Not just something to kill.

A well-portrayed debate will not really feel like a debate. It is seamless. It has a natural flow in the overall storyline. It will simply feel like the next logical step in the course of events.

By this time, also, there is a separate plot line emerging. In HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON, it involves Hiccup's father wiping out the dragon nest. For the sake of keeping these posts short(er), I'm only going to highlight the main plot points.

More examples of good debates:

THE MATRIX -- Does Neo really want to know the truth, or should he continue in ignorant bliss?

IRON MAN -- Should Tony Stark use his skills and resources to help people?

ICE AGE -- Is it worth the risk to take the baby back to the humans?

The question contemplated in the debate = the question of your premise.

In my YA novel, SUMMER HOAX, the question is: Should Diana give up her summer freedom from Ben to act as his fake girlfriend?

Notice that the two choices of the debate are usually either a) selfish or b) unselfish. The unselfish/more difficult path is the one you want your character to make. Not only does this create more conflict, but it also gives the audience a reason to root for the MC. Selfless characters--those willing to make some kind of sacrifice--are more likeable, no matter what their other faults may be.

In my own work, again referring to SUMMER HOAX, Diana's decision to help Ben means personal hardship for her. She is basically lying "for the greater good", but still lying. She hates lying (and this fact was made clear in the set-up). Also, as Ben's fake girlfriend, the chances of her having a real boyfriend are pretty much zilch. But she decides to do it anyway, and the story moves on. If she'd decided not to, at that point, there would be no story.

The decision made in the debate is vital to the plot. If you find your debate is weak, then the problem may actually be a weak premise overall. Or your stakes aren't high enough in the set-up. Or the two basic choices (should I or shouldn't I?) are not clear. This is not a part of your story to take lightly.

Before we move on to act two in Wednesday's post, I'd like to make one final point about structural positioning. The first and third acts are shorter than the second act. The second act is actually half the story, not one-third. So when you reach your break into act two, just after the debate, it shouldn't be on page 100. Please, for the sake of your readers, get to the point as quickly as you can. In SUMMER HOAX, the catalyst has done it's job by page 31. There are two chapters of debate, then the second act--the start of Ben and Diana's fake relationship--officially begins on page 49.

Act one is only 50 pages out of a total of 290 (that is in raw ms form). It will be different for different stories, even of my own. Adult novels are generally more lengthy than young adult. Your story will be different, no matter what the genre. But the proportions are always the same. A commercial audience has little patience, so your first act, although it is tightly packed with need-to-know information, is usually your shortest. It is your hook zone.

By the time the reader gets to the business end of the characters' debate, there is usually no turning back. If you've done it well, your audience will be on the edge of their proverbial seats, drooling with anticipation for what comes next. Gotta turn the page, gotta read just one more chapter...

Happy writing,
~Lydia