Viewer/Reader Satisfaction: The Story Arc

Last night I finally got to see Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull.

I. Loved. It. Several times during the movie I said "YES!" to myself (under my breath). I walked out grinning like an eedjut.

But being an aspiring storyteller myself, I couldn't let it go at just enjoying it. I had to analyze WHY. Why was the film so satisfying? I've been an Indiana Jones fan since the beginning (well, except for #2--but did anyone like #2? Really? The monkey brains and all?), but it wasn't that simple. This one had to be Really Good, to succeed. And it was. It left me with a feeling of completion, that satisfied sigh of closing the last book in a good series.

Why?

Because George Lucas and Stephen Spielberg know how to do a story arc.

(warning: SPOILERS)

If you look at the whole series (which I intend to, once this comes out on video), this fourth movie picks up themes and bits that were touched on throughout (friendship and betrayal, fathers and sons, the folly of greed, love) but it is most closely tied to the first one.

Most obviously there's the reappearance of Marian, Indy's love interest in #1. I hoped hoped hoped it was her when they mentioned a "Mary" in the beginning, and I was thrilled when it was. Indy's never had a connection with any other woman--on screen--like Marian (and he says so). Tie-in to problem set up in first movie, resolution. Bing! Viewer satisfaction.

There was the reappearance of the warehouse from the end of #1, and the tantalizing glimpse of the Ark (ha). There was the reference to Indy's famous not-swordfight ("don't bring a knife to a gunfight") and a parallel with the Russians seeking world domination here, through an artifact, just like the Nazis did in #1. The ending also mirrored the theme of that original movie: too much knowledge, the greed for knowledge, is a dangerous thing. In #1 Indy and Marion survived because they kept their eyes closed. Here the Russian woman was destroyed because she kept her eyes open. At one point she tried to shut them, but couldn't. Reference to first movie, resolution. Bing!

There was the tie up and passing on of the baton, from father to son. In #3 we saw Indy's relationship with his father, and here we see him relating to his son. There is a clear implication at the end that the story is not over, really, but will pass to the next generation (when Mutt almost tries on Indy's hat). Bing!

(Oh, and I love the reference with Mutt's name. Anyone else remember "Indiana was the dog"?

Okay, so I think you get the point that the Indy movie was satisfying. But how does this relate to your book, or series, as an author? How do you get readers to feel that same satisfaction?

• Play on their inside knowledge. Readers will feel knowledgeable, and special, when you throw in little references to things they've seen throughout your book or series. If it's a series, readers who haven't read the whole series may not get those references--but your devoted readers will. And will feel a kinship to the story and to you when they get them.
  
  
• The final chapter of a series, or even just a book, should tie in to the first chapter. Yes, your character's been through a heck of a lot, and hopefully they're not at all the same person. But for that emotional satisfaction there needs to be a tie-in, a resolution, to the first problem. That gives readers an "aha" moment, and a feeling that the story is complete.
  
  
• If you're doing a series, and you've covered a lot of themes, the primary theme resolution in the final book should be the same or similar theme as the first book. Emotional satisfaction.
  
  
• Bring up long-lost characters. Resolve long-forgotten threads. Show the reader that it was important to pay attention all the way through your book or series, and reward them for it. Use a detail you planted in Book 1 or the first chapter and never used.
  
  
• Watch the Indiana Jones series. And take notes.
  

Fears, part 2. Clarification

Since Janet Reid linked to my post about writing your fears, I've gotten a fair few hits from other writers...and some interesting questions. I think I need to clarify what I meant, a little.

A fellow writer thought I was saying that you should create a plot based on your own fears, and "force" your characters to face them. Like an issue book, dark and dismal and sad.

No no no no no no no no. No.

I despise issue books. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. For one thing, I don't even like to read dark and dismal and sad books, personally. I like adventure, a little romance, possibly fantasy. Struggles, yes, but I'm a sucker for a happy ending.

Also, IMO any book that is forced or twisted to suit the author's own agenda will fail as a good story. It will not resonate with anyone, because you will be trying to convince instead of telling a story, and the story will almost certainly get lost along the way.

What I was saying (or trying to say) is that you shouldn't veer away from allowing your characters to face fears straight-on--that real, deep characterization can come, partly, from facing real fears. Everyday, universal fears, that everyone experiences and can understand. I was trying to say that it is natural that your characters will experience these fears--and you should let them.

Not that because you have a fear of closets that you should stuff your character into one just to see how she deals with it.

Does that make sense?

(I hope so, but it's difficult to tell, as I've been trying to type this while Child asks me questions every few seconds. I am now in Deep Trouble because I missed "drawing time") :)

Be afraid

What is your biggest fear?

Rejection? Death? The unknown? Loss? Is your main character facing down that fear?

Why not?

I don't know where I read or heard this first: Robert McKee, maybe, or quite possibly Donald Maass, in his Surrey master classes. The advice: Find your fear, and dump it on the page. Make your character deal with it in just the way you've always dreaded.

It's hard. I've done it, stared at the screen thinking "No, I can't talk about that. Even thinking about that scares me silly. How can I possibly live every day with that ache, that trickle of fear, for months?" You can. You should. It brings a vividness to your book that will otherwise be missing, that will become the vague, undefined lack earning you "I just didn't love this" comments by the bucketful.

However, if you truthfully portray your fear, and your characters react to it honestly, your book will resonate with readers. See, the trick is you're not the only one with that particular fear. If it's cathartic for you to deal with it on the page and come through the other side, it's cathartic for readers as well. They'll recognize the truth, connect with the powerful emotions. Rip through the pages to see if your MC will overcome it. Cheer for her when she does.

Like everybody, I've got several fears that underlie everything, that can rise to the surface with one word. One is rejection.

I'm not talking about book rejection—that's just a step in the process, in my opinion. I'm talking about when your best friend for years starts going cold. Stops calling you. Tells you one day, in front of all the people you most want to impress, that she can't believe she was ever friends with you in the first place, you're such a loser.

Yes, that happened to me.

Or when your boyfriend, or husband, starts spending long hours away from you. Turns away when you try to kiss him, or worse, pretends. But you can tell. It's different. It's over, you just haven't admitted it yet.

Or when you're a kid, and one of your parents leaves, for reasons that are perfectly valid from a grown-up's perspective, but to a kid just means they've failed somehow.

Jenna dealt with that fear. Natalie's facing it too, in a different way from a different source. But I think it's a common anxiety, and important. And very, very real to me.

Another one I didn't even realize until I wrote Jenna was the fear of losing control. I hadn't realized the true terror of that moment when—because of medical reasons, or because you're just a kid—decisions about your life are taken out of your hands, and you no longer have a choice. I did that to Jenna. Of course she took control back, but she had to lose it first. I had to, to understand it.

Don't hold back. Don't sugar-coat issues, to make them safe. Face your fears. Make your characters go through those particular layers of hell. And then, at the end, let them win.

Painting yourself into a corner...and how to escape

Have you ever created a situation--for your characters, of course--so sticky, so impossible to get out of, that you drop into reader mode and think Wow! How are they ever going to get out of that?

And then reality slaps you hard in the face when it comes time to write the scene. You sit there, staring at the screen blankly. Thinking, Damn. How are they ever going to get out of that? And you don't know. You have no idea. Everything that comes to you seems like cheating, pulling a trick on the readers. You know better than to have a deus ex machina, because you wouldn't want to read one. You could back up a few steps and make it easier...but what would be the fun of that? Do you want your character's struggles to seem easy, meaningless? Of course not. You know very well that for a triumph to be important to the readers it has to be critical to the characters. It has to come through struggle and hardship and sacrifice.

So what do you do? As the writer/goddess, you do have the luxury of being able to go to earlier parts of the book and plant clues, if you need to, for something to help solve the current problem. And that might work--if you only could figure out what the best solution to the problem WAS.

This is where I am today. I set it up, so it's my own fault--and I must say the situation is pretty good. Darn near impossible to do what they need to do, and not succeeding just isn't an option. But now I've got to fix it, help them succeed in spite of the obstacles.

Fortunately I'm not worried, because this has happened to me lots of times before, and I know what I need to do. First chance I get I have a date with my writing journal, where I will throw out ALL aspects of the situation and all the options, sort through them, and start suggesting creative ideas. Most of them will be ridiculous, but one of them will stick. And then, fellow writers, will come that wonderful AHA moment, when every little piece falls into place as though you meant it to happen like that all along.

Because you did, right? Sure. You planned it that way. So did I. {cough}

Lessons picked up from other writers

I used to avoid reading for pleasure while I was writing, in the fear that (a) it would take too much time away from writing and (b) other author's styles would somehow seep into my own writing. (a) is not really an issue lately, since I write every day at lunch and just know that I can't read during that time. (b)? Not worried so much about that, since I started writing in my own kitchen-sink style.

So I've been reading. And I've discovered that there can be a wonderful symbiosis between reading and writing, when you're writing every day. Though I don't pick up author's styles, I do notice what's succeeding, and what's not, in their books, and I try to note those lessons for my own work. Here's what I've learned from the last 3 books I've read/am reading (yes, I'm still reading HP. About halfway through).

--From Trangressions, by Sarah Dunant: Don't answer the central question of the book two-thirds of the way through. I really didn't care if I ever picked it up at all after that point--the rest was just floppy plot, of no interest. And make sure that the story delivers on the promise implied by the book's jacket. I was (obviously) quite disappointed in this one.

--From Vicki Pettersson: Pay attention (probably on later drafts) to every word, every phrase, you put on the page. There probably is a fresher, more character-specific way of describing something than the first phrase you clunked down. Vicki is a master of original descriptions and turns of phrase, and I love that in her writing.

--From the latest Harry Potter: Complexity is okay. It's also okay to not explain everything for your readers; let them guess. Let them figure it out. Allude to things they don't really need to know about, but the characters do. All this makes for a detailed, real world. Also, let characters speak as they really would, with pauses and awkwardness and occasional swearing. (I did know this, but it's great to see it in print again.)

(forgot) Whadjya eat? Child and I were on our own, so she got to choose. Grilled cheese sandwiches, cantaloupe (her absolute favorite), and veggies with ranch dressing. :)

Quote

Quote from STORY by Robert McKee:

"So...ask: What's my favorite genre? Then write in the genre you love. For although the passion for an idea or an experience may wither, the love of the movies is forever. Genre should be a constant source of reinspiration. Every time you reread your script, it should excite you, for this is your kind of story, the kind of film you'd stand in line in the rain to see....Be honest in your choice of genre, for of all the reasons for wanting to write, the only one that nurtures us through time is love of the work itself."

YES. This is complete validation of my recent switch, and of the work I'm doing now. And I am loving it, the characters and the voice and the story, and I think it shows in the work. Yes.

Are you writing in your favorite genre? Are you writing about what's important and interesting to YOU?

Small, knowable world

The party went really well on Saturday--big relieved sigh from Mommy here. Not as many kids came as I expected, but it worked out perfectly, and they all made their crafts (homemade windchimes), played Hullabaloo with great joy, and scarfed down cheese pizza, super-frosted cake, and pink punch and apple juice. We have videos of them all bouncing up and down after balloons, and photos of all the Art etc. She'll remember this party fondly, and I'm so glad.

My birthday's tomorrow, but whatevah. We'll do something fun, but I don't have to worry about it!

I'm reading STORY very slowly due to Life, but ran across a very true bit from it this morning that I thought I'd share (small bit copied under fair use):

"Limitation is vital. The first step toward a well-told story is to create a small, knowable world. Artists by nature crave freedom, so the principle that the structure/setting relationship restricts creative choices may stir the rebel in you....The constraint that setting imposes on story design doesn't inhibit creativity; it inspires it."

This immediately struck me as true. A vast, ill-defined, or vague setting puts the reader off. They can't picture themselves in it, imagine themselves as part of it. Think of books you've loved, books that have made you spin off in your imagination into that world. For me an example is THE DARK IS RISING by Susan Cooper. The setting is very specific, a small village in north England. But it's clear that it's "real" to the characters (and the author) and I can completely picture myself there.

I'm feeling confident that I can create this small, knowable world a heckuva lot better in this book than I could in any of the ones I've worked on before.

What do you think? Does this bit ring true for you?

OH, and there will be a major Announcement tomorrow relating to the release date of Vicki's book, THE SCENT OF SHADOWS. Watch this space.

Starman Analysis

I watched STARMAN on TV last night, and was reminded again what a good story it is. (Yes, Jeff Bridges does some really strange acting in it--my husband did a wonderful impersonation of the stare, and had me rolling around laughing--but it fits.) This time I was noticing how well the plot was constructed.

It's really a relationship movie, and it's a hard relationship to portray well. In 3 days the woman has to go from encountering an alien who looks like her dead husband (she watches him grow from a freaky alien BABY, for goshsakes) to wanting to stay with and help him, to being completely in love with him enough to want to (a) have his baby and (b) venture off to a different planet, if he'd let her. Wow. That's some transition to try to get viewers/readers to buy into. Here are some of the reasons why I think it worked, and is still a good movie lo these many years later:

• There's a really good reason why Jenny doesn't shoot him at the beginning, even when she's scared to death and is holding a gun on him: he is the image of her dead husband. As a new widow, she just couldn't shoot him until she found out more about that.
• She really does try to get away. She doesn't just give in and happily say "okay, alien, I'll help you." She nearly hits another car just to get the driver's attention; she leaves a note in a gas station bathroom; and even when she's beginning to like him, she plans to dump him and catch a bus.
• You can see her decide to stay, and understand why. It's only after she witnesses him perform an unusually caring, miraculous act (bringing a deer back to life) and then sees him get beaten for it that she understands that he's an amazing being, that he can't do this without her in a world so strange to him, and that she will help.
• The love comes gradually, but is visible. There is a transition: fear, interest, respect, gratitude, friendship, love.
  
• Each of them takes risks for the other. She stands up to a group of bullying (big) men for him; he carries her through a fire, and brings her back to life. She tracks him down and gets him away from the cops; he gives her the gift of a baby who will be part him and part her husband (so he's giving her back a part of her husband, in a weird way).

So it works, at least for me. There are a couple of moments that are clearly parallel to the Jesus/Mary story as well, I think (the woman is left with an "unexplained" baby who will "know all that I know and become a teacher"), which gives further food for thought. But mostly on this watching I was picking up hints for how to pull a short-term, high-transition love story off in fiction. {s}

The Theme's the Thing

Last week I did a complete re-read of TMT in 3 days, from beginning to end, and I'm pleased to say that I still like it. {g} I made little tweaks here and there, of course, but overall I enjoyed reading it very much, and kept getting caught up in the story. This is a good thing after lo these many years of working on the thing!

And I think the Deeper Theme works now, as it should.

Deeper Theme, you ask? Indeed. The first time around (when I thought I was done, ha ha), I had the Obvious Theme, the one I had originally seen as I wrote: self-growth, learning to rely on and trust oneself. Fine and dandy. I think most readers would see that without blinking. The MC is a young medieval girl who depends on others--men--at first, from one to the next, before finally depending on herself, coming into her own.

But when I got some feedback and read it through again, I saw threads for another theme underneath, if I could just strengthen it. Pluck those threads, here, there, make this one stronger, add a little background to heighten that one. And amazingly, when I did that the story got richer. The conflict was heightened, the motivations made so much more sense. It really was as if the Deeper Theme was the main one all along; I just had to see it.

I'm not sure it would work if you tried to write a deep theme from the beginning; in fact I think it would fall flat (and preachy) in the hands of all but the most skilled writers, of which I am not one. Underlying themes need to come from the characters and the story.

But what do you need to look for to strengthen a Deeper Theme, once you see it? I thought of a few things.

--It should be related to the main plot, but not be the focus. That's for the obvious theme.
--It should be threaded through the whole book, part of the character's mindset and experiences.
--If you look for it, you should find some mention of the theme in the beginning, and in the end. It can be considered a story arc, with a problem that is resolved.
--It should be subtle!! This is the hardest bit when you're highlighting for theme in a later draft. How much should you emphasize it? How much mention should there be? Not much. Hints, here and there. References. Thoughts.

How about those of you who have finished a draft? Did you see other themes after you were done? Did you consciously strengthen or highlight them? Do you look for different levels of themes when you're reading, or is it unconscious?

Medieval Word of the Day: scoleye: To attend school; to study as a scholar.

1st Person again

Argh, my cough is worse. Damn, damn. Well, if I end up hacking my way through the first day or so of Surrey, y'all who are there will have to forgive me. {sigh}

This morning my oh-so-helpful daughter informed me that I couldn't wear this v-neck sweater without something under it, because "you can't let the people at work see your skin." Hmmm. I guess she's getting the privacy thing finally, but carrying it just a little too far. The pendulum.

This week Diana Peterfreund is speaking in defense of 1st-person POV. I've had to fight this battle myself a few times, and I'm not even published, so I understand exactly where she's coming from.

What is it that bothers people about 1st person? Well, this is what I've heard:

1. It's too close to the character; you never get a break from that one POV.
2. The MC is hyper-aware, noticing things she shouldn't, particularly about herself.
3. This POV creates the need for contrived scenes to explain things that happen when the MC is not present, or to force the MC to be present when she shouldn't be.
4. It's difficult for most writers to stay in 1st person, so slippage occurs.
5. There are too many "I"s.

Hum. Well, I have to say that 2-4 can be handled by a skilled writer so that they're not a problem. Yes, it takes more work perhaps, and a more careful read, but it can be done. (Actually, I've seen these problems in 3rd person too; just maybe more often in 1st.)

5? There's not much you can do about that if it bothers someone. They'd probably likely be bothered by too many "she"s too. But you can pay attention to sentence structure so you don't use the same structure 40 times in a row.

As to 1, I think that's just a matter of whether the reader can like and identify with a character. Of course not everyone is going to identify with your heroine/hero, or like them enough to spend many hours with them. But let's face it: not everyone is going to like your book anyway. Seriously. If you've done a good job, though, you'll be able to connect with enough readers to make it work.

Any other objections you have to 1st person? Objections you've seen that I haven't mentioned?

Medieval Word of the Day: forslow: To be slow or dilatory about; to lose or spoil by sloth; to delay, neglect, omit, put off.

Voice

A rather resounding silence.

Hope you liked the story yesterday--I am just paranoid enough that the lack of any comments whatsoever makes me nervous. No, I am NOT fishing for compliments. I'm just sayin'.

Anyway, one of my writer friends was just asking about the elusive 'voice', and how to cultivate it. Sometimes us writers see the constant agent request for a "new, fresh voice" and we just panic. Is voice something that can even be created? Is it inherent to a writer, or learned? And how can we change voice when moving from one project to another, or one POV to another?

I was very pleased to see, when I re-read the story below yesterday, that the voice is completely different from that in TMT. The character is, at least to my read, completely male, and clearly Native American. His thoughts, his actions, his words and metaphors, all reflect that point of view. If I wrote that story with the same word choices as TMT, which are supposed to reflect the thoughts and actions of a young, medieval woman in England, we would have a serious voice disconnect. That would lose readers. (By the way, that story was a perfect example of the writing magic. I wrote it in 2 hours, with very, very few changes as I went along. Almost like dictation. I love it when that happens, but it is oh so rare.)

In my mind, then--and I may be wrong on this, so feel free to call me out--voice is largely a matter of being deep in the POV character. The words you use even to describe the actions of a POV character should be different from those for another character--and that culminates in voice.

However, sometimes there is a voice for the novel as a whole (or series of novels) rather than for one particular character, and I'm not sure I can define that as easily. That voice may be inherent to the writer: a certain type of chapter structure, perhaps, or a way of opening scenes. The method of handling tension and flow. These are beyond individual POV and beyond word choice.

Have you ever read a book by an author and started thinking like the book? D.H. Lawrence does this to me, and so, unfortunately, does James Joyce. (Which is why I avoid James Joyce...who wants to go around thinking like Ulysses?) That is an example of a strong book voice. It's so insistent that it pushes into your head.

Voice may well be a challenge for me with Book 2. Here we are with another young, medieval woman in almost the same time period as in TMT--yet the voice has to be different. The character is vastly different: Spanish-born, royal, warped by tragedy. Isabella is not naive as Katherine was; she didn't have a chance to be. My choice of words, of cadence, of everything will have to reflect that. Oh, and it has to be engaging, and "fresh and new" too. No problem, right? It all depends on whether I can 'hear' her or not, and whether I can capture that 'voice' on the page.

Medieval Word of the Day: pomely: Marked with rounded spots, dappled.

Deep

I was having a discussion yesterday with someone who was claiming that in order for fiction to have value, it must have deeper meaning. The reader must be able to not only relate to the characters, but recognize themselves and the human condition in them. More, to have real, lasting worth, fiction should try to show something "new", at least a new take, on the world and people. That without this, fiction is "empty" and "mind candy", a recitation of events.

I argued that it's great for fiction to try for this--at least some types of fiction--but that it's absolutely not necessary to have deeper revelations about humanity in order to be valuable. That sometimes it's enough just to have a good STORY.

But I wonder if the arguer is right in one sense--that the books that stand through time, that we still go back to and re-read in spite of the decades or centuries that have passed since they were written DO include a true reflection of life, and possibly also new thoughts about living. Or maybe this is what makes great books great--that the characters are real because they reflect the complexities of people.

What do you think? Does fiction need to strive for the deeper, richer, truer vision of life to succeed? Or are you attracted also by fiction that tells a story, more simply?

Medieval Word of the Day: sye: To sink, fall, descend (lit. and fig.); to collapse.

Critters

There was some talk over at Books & Writers about critique partners/readers. I know I've touched on this before here and there, but not all in one place. So,

How to Choose Critique Partners (aka critters)

To me, critters and readers are a vital part of the process of writing. I wouldn't feel comfortable sending a book off to agents without knowing that somebody besides me had read the thing.

I expect my critters, in general, to:

--tell me if the story "hangs" together
--point out plot holes or inconsistencies (why did Davy's eyes change from green to blue?)
--check pacing (did they want to keep turning the pages? was there anywhere it sagged?)
--note any oddities in language that pulled them out of the story
--tell me about character (did they like Katherine? did they hate the villain? why? Were their feelings mitigated or changed at the end?)
--say, as a reader, if the ending and the story arc was satisfying. Were they happy when they closed the book?

These are from regular critters. "Expert" critters I expect to really just look at their portion of expertise. I had someone read TMT to check that my descriptions of the countryside and flora and fauna of northern England were correct. She also had some excellent comments about the little bits of dialect I have, since she's a native-born of that area. I had a monk look at the scenes in an abbey of his order. I had an archaeologist look at the scenes in the abbey that he's excavating. These readers may or may not have other comments, but you really need them for their expertise.

So what things do you look for in a critter, to give you all this feedback?

1. Honesty. This one is absolutely imperative. It's up to you whether it needs to be honesty couched with tact, or plain-speaking brutal truth, but you need to know what they really thought. Not what you want to hear.

2. A critical eye. I don't think critters need to be writers; a reader's perspective can be just as valuable (that's who you're selling to in the end, after all!). But it won't help you if they read it and say only "it was great!". They need to be able to evaluate it and be able to express what they liked, and what they didn't. How it could be improved.

3. Patience. I doubt this one is just me. I tend to pepper my critters with questions after they finish a read, at least for a day or so. They need to be able to deal with questions.

4. Expertise. If they're one of your expertise readers, but of course.

What do they get out of doing this monumental task for you? Well, if they're writers, you might offer to read their work critically in exchange. This is almost always a good deal. If they're experts, they get the thrill of having been asked, and being able to talk about their expertise. (you laugh, but this seems to be enough) If they're readers and like your genre, they get to read a book, hopefully a good one, when no one else has had a chance to see it yet.

And of course, they get a mention in your acknowledgments when you do get published. Never forget your critters in the acknowledgments; they helped you get this book out to everyone else.

Medieval Word of the Day: selcouth: Unfamiliar, unusual, rare; strange, marvellous, wonderful.

Follow the Bouncing Paragraph

Poking around in my old files yesterday made me think of a post on editing, and how one task--the introduction and description of a character--can change from version to version. Come along as I Follow the Paragraph (okay, sometimes paragraphs) introducing Thomas, the love interest at the beginning of the story...

From TMT January 15, 2003 (as far back as I have here). The mss was then called TRUST.
(oh, should say that all excerpts, as ghastly as some of them are, are copyright Susan Adrian, 2006, All Rights Reserved)

--I studied him, trying to be objective. He was a big man, long of leg and tall in stature, with a wide chest. I thought he looked a bit like a fox, with dark red hair curling back from a high forehead, and a red beard surrounding a soft mouth. His nose was long and narrow, but any sharpness this brought to his face was tempered by deep brown eyes with thick eyelashes. Those eyes locked on mine again now, and he nodded almost imperceptibly.--

Ack. This sounds awfully cliched now, especially the sharpness "tempered by deep brown eyes". Yuck. It also wasn't quite what I wanted, anyway...the wide chest was wrong. And looking at it now, that's a boring paragraph, with just description and no action other than studying and eyes locking {gag}.

From TMT November 2003, so 10 months later:

--"Katherine!" Thomas looked up and smiled, his teeth white through the russet beard. I fumbled with the ties of my cloak, my cold, numb fingers slipping against the knot. Finally it broke free and I pulled off the cloak, hung the dripping mess on a peg, and tripped my way over to Thomas. He folded his arm around my shoulder. "God's blood, but you're wet!" he exclaimed, pulling back.

"I know! It is truly the flood, I think." I ran a hand through my damp, tangled hair, looking at him. Even in the weak gray light from the window his hair and beard were a fire of red, his dark eyes gleaming. "Next we shall look out the window and see a line of animals, two by two."--

I took it out! This is now the only description I have in the whole scene. Now all we know is that he has white teeth and a red beard and hair. Hmmm. Action is better, though I now have an overtly self-aware line (running a hand through my damp, tangled hair) that's out of place. I think I need to put more description back.

From TMT February 2004 (3 months later):

--"Katherine!" He smiled, his teeth white through the russet beard. I always thought he looked a bit like a fox, with his long, narrow nose, dark red hair curling back from a high forehead, and short red beard. I fumbled with the ties of my cloak, my cold, numb fingers slipping against the knot. Finally it broke free and I pulled off the cloak, hung the dripping mess on a peg by the door, and tripped my way to Thomas. He draped an arm over my shoulder. "God's blood, but you're wet!" he exclaimed, pulling back and brushing a bit at his sleeve.

"I know! It is truly the flood, I think." I ran a hand through my damp, tangled hair, just looking at him. Even in the weak gray light from the window his hair and beard were a fire of red, his dark eyes gleaming. "Next we shall look out the window and see a line of animals, two by two."--

Interesting. I added the fox part back in--this actually becomes a recurring metaphor in the book. I've added in the "brushing a bit at his sleeve" to begin to show his fussiness about his appearance. Kept all that last paragraph, though.

By July 2004 I'd taken out the self-aware line (made it "I ran a hand over my damp skirt", which is better) but left the rest the same.

Fast-forward to October 2005:

--"Katherine!" He smiled, his teeth white through the russet beard. I always thought he looked a bit like a fox, with a long, narrow nose, dark red hair curling back from a high forehead, and short red beard. I fumbled with the ties of my cloak, my cold, numb fingers slipping against the knot. Finally it broke free and I hung the dripping mess on a peg by the door, tripping my way to Thomas. He draped an arm over my shoulder.

"God's blood, but you're wet!" He pulled back and brushed at his sleeve.

"Aye, it is truly the flood, I think. Next we shall look out the window and see a line of animals, two by two." I tugged on the veil and ran a hand over my damp skirt, just looking at him. Even in the weak light from the window his hair and beard were a fire of red, his dark eyes gleaming.--

Tired of it yet? Welcome to editing. I wonder how many times I've read this paragraph. Anyway, here I broke out his speech and movement, took out the "bit" from him brushing his sleeve, and changed Katherine's "I know" to "Aye", which she consistently uses. Oh, and finally went back and researched head coverings, and added a veil.

One more. Here's the "final" version. I finally realized it would be better to move that fox line to the part where she's looking at him. You'll see some of the dialogue has changed too, and the actions are a bit different.

--Thomas stood alone by the window, leaning over a table covered with sheets of parchment. He set down his quill and smiled, his teeth white through the russet beard.

"Katherine, my pet!"

I fumbled with the ties of my cloak, my cold, numb fingers slipping against the knot until it broke free. I hung the dripping mess on a peg by the door, and tripped my way to Thomas. He draped an arm over my shoulder.

"God's blood, but you're wet!" He pulled back, nose crinkling, and brushed at his sleeve.

"Aye, it is truly the flood," I answered, with a smile. "I expect if you look out the window you shall see a line of animals, two by two."

I tugged the veil into place and ran a hand over my damp skirt, just looking at him. Even in the weak light from the window his hair and beard were a fire of red, his dark eyes gleaming. I always thought he looked like a fox, with his long, narrow nose, dark red hair curling back from a high forehead, and clipped red beard.--

That's just one description. Multiply that times...oh, 75,000 (there are 95,000 words) and you'll understand, if you didn't already, exactly why it takes so long to write a book.

Medieval Word of the Day: pythonissa: Often treated as proper name of the witch of Endor. (yeah, baby. I've got to get the witch of Endor in Book 2.)

Begin at the Beginning

Let's see, where to begin?

That's the question all novelists face. The struggle with the beginning is so common as to be universal. Where does the story start? How do you make it gripping, unique, and yet reveal character?

Agents and readers tell us over and over that there has to be a hook, that you have to grab the reader by the throat and hold them there (Agent Kristin is blogging about it again today). Oftentimes the first 5 pages is the only part of your mss an agent will see...it had better be strong and captivating. But it also has to fit with the rest of your novel. What's the point of having an action-packed opening scene, if the next one drops to gathering flowers?

I had the usual problems with the opening of TMT. The first version, nigh on 6 years ago, started with (God, I can't believe I'm admitting this) my MC looking in the mirror. That's right, the original let-me-look-in-the-mirror-and-describe-myself. {groan} My early critiquers were very kind, but let's just say I learned. I re-worked.

The second major version started with my MC alone in the house, then sneaking out to see her love interest. Some conflict, I thought, but also some chance to establish the medieval setting and character. It was better.

Diana Gabaldon read that version in 2004, and gave me some valuable advice. "It's good," she said, "but...it reads more like a second scene to me. Why don't you start with more immediate, direct conflict? Maybe an argument?" The lightbulb went on over my head. An argument! Better, a real confrontation! The central conflict in the beginning is between my MC and her father, over the man. Why not let them go at it, right away? It would establish the characters' positions and conflicts, throw in some medieval mindset...and it would be interesting. The second scene is where she sneaks out, which suddenly has deeper meaning because the reader understands how much is at stake. (Thank you, Diana!)

I think I've got it now: the tension, the hook, the characters. The "right place". When I brought it to Surrey last year, I showed it to Anne Perry, nervously. Would she say the same thing as Diana? Would it still not be enough? She read the 3 pages in silence, while I fidgeted. Finally she looked up. "What's wrong with this?" she said. "You just need an agent."

Whew. Begin at the beginning.

Medieval Word of the Day: fruiteress: A female seller of fruit.

Procrastination Station

Ah, procrastination. The life blood of writers, the bane of writers. At the same time.

I've always been a procrastinator, but I always get things in on deadline. How? Wait, wait, wait, dawdle, dawdle...think...GO! Write like a fiend, edit edit edit, proof, done!

Crazy, right? In college I would outline a paper ahead, but I would never start it until at least 6 PM the night before it was due. For some reason, that was just enough pressure so I could devote myself to it wholeheartedly. I'd be printing it out at 3 AM sometimes, sure--and I did have at least one panicky night when the printer stopped working--but I always got it done, and I always got an A.

Fast-forward {cough} years. That kind of procrastination doesn't work while writing a novel on your own time, does it? I don't have anybody setting me deadlines. It's just me, my brain, and my keyboard. So, now I have a new kind. I still get things done, just with a different way of fooling myself.

Yep, blogs again. And other internet time-wasters.

--Open current draft of TMT. Find where I am, read a bit. Drag out the printed copy I did some edits on, incorporate if there are any changes. Read again.

--Go look at Google Reader, see if any of my blogs have been updated. Read half of one.

--Go back to TMT. Get an idea, fiddle with the scene. Add in some new text. Get really happy with adding new text, but realize there needs to be more.

--Get up and wander around, get some coffee.

--Come back and add the new thoughts. Fiddle. Re-read the whole scene, make a few changes.

--Go back and read the second half of the blog.

--Lather, rinse, repeat.

Another writer was asking if this kind of thing was normal, and apparently for a lot of us it is. I'm not sure what the trick is there, really, but it seems to HELP my productivity. It's like a conscious mind break, to give the subconscious a chance to process. I'm still writing, in the sense that I'm thinking about it even while I'm distracting myself, and I almost inevitably come back from a "blog break" with more ideas, or fresher, or with a different perspective.

Blogs as a healthy procrastination tool. Who knew?

Medieval Word of the Day: ignotum per ignotius: An attempt to explain what is obscure by something which is more obscure, leading to ‘confusion worse confounded’.

I'm feeling...tense...

So I asked what I should write about today, and Kreekie said "tension, how to keep it going without going overboard".

My first thought was, "Do I KNOW anything about that?" Well, I have some thoughts, anyway. I'll post those, and y'all can pop in with your comments.

So, how to keep tension going (because I love lists):

1. Questions.
One of the best ways to keep tension going--and to keep the reader involved, which is often the same thing--is to keep offering questions. There should of course be the large plot arc of the book, with its own major questions that will come to crisis and then be resolved. But you can't hang all the tension on that, or you will quickly bore the readers. You'll sound like you're playing on a one-key piano.

Within the large arc there should be many, many smaller question/resolution cycles. They could be minor, immediate questions (will she get the horse across the stream in the rain? How?) or obstacles in the course of the larger story (what will happen when the villain DOES catch her? Will she escape?). You do need to resolve these questions as they come up; otherwise the story will quickly prove unsatisfying. The trick is to resolve one question and immediately, or after a very brief rest pause, introduce another.

I think the question issue is a large part of why many books fall flat in the first couple of chapters, when the author starts with "backstory", or How Things Were Before the Conflict. There's no question, no mystery. No mystery, no tension.

2. Movement
Diana Gabaldon taught me this one, and it's a very, very good trick for avoiding description drag. (You know what that is, right? When the author stops the action to describe the setting, or the character's clothes, or the room? And you the reader start to yawn and fidget, and your eye pops down the page trying to find when Something Happens next?) I hate description drag, and I am a premiere skipper.

So the trick, you ask? Simple. Put movement in every paragraph. It could be the actions of one of the characters, of someone or something in the environment, or even fire crackling or the breeze blowing--movement keeps the readers in the moment. Here, let me find a description para...(not as easy as you might think; as I said, I skip these, so I don't have many. My description is usually combined with an action para anyway).

Okay, here's one:

From The Murderess's Tale, Copyright Susan Adrian, 2006, All Rights Reserved

Market Square was full of townsfolk engaged in the complex negotiations of buying and selling wares. Though the morning was still chill enough to require a cloak, the whole square was bright with sunlight; the contrast with the dark alley in which I stood, combined with the turmoil of activity, gave me the sense of being the sole audience for a mummer's play. I had to shade my eyes as a tinker's cart wheeled past, her ungainly collection of polished silver, copper, and tin flashing with fierce intensity. "Tiiiiiiiiin pans!" she screeched, voice high and hoarse. "Lovely tiiiiin pans!"

I don't know if that's the BEST example, exactly, but you see what I mean. I could've just described what the square looked like, but instead I added action and sound to make it more alive.

3. End Chapters Well
I think there are two main ways to end chapters, and maybe you need to have a balance of both to keep the flow going.

The first way, and my favorite, is: cliffhangers. Not the Dan Brown type, exactly, but leaving the reader with major uncertainty. Chapter breaks are a natural place to want to close the book and rest (or sleep); if you end with a major hook, they just can't stop themselves from reading on to find the resolution. And then sometimes you have them for the next chapter. :) I LOVE cliffhanger chapter endings, and many, many of my chapters end this way.

However, sometimes you just have to go for the second type of chapter ending: the quiet resolution. These resolve the main question at hand, perhaps even end with the main character at rest, or going to sleep. No major tension is introduced until the beginning of the next chapter. I think these are needed as well, in a balance, or it WILL be like Dan Brown; the reader may feel like they're running a race, and you never give them a chance to break. When you occasionally end with a quiet resolution, you give the reader a nice wrapped-up feeling, an aaaahhh. Then they're ready to read on. The trick as always is to balance the cliffhangers with the resolutions, so you keep the tension moving, and keep up a good flow.

There, that's probably all I know on the subject at the moment. Your thoughts?

Medieval Word of the Day: contumacy: Perverse and obstinate resistance of or disobedience to authority; rebellious stubbornness. (ooooh, I like that one)

"Dialogue," she said, "and how to make it real."

I just ran across a post I did a long time ago in another format about dialogue, and how to handle dialogue in historical fiction. It seemed to make some sense and still be relevant, so here you go. :)

I do have some thoughts on dialogue and what makes it sound realistic, particularly in historical fiction. The first two notes sound easy, though they take practice. The third one takes work.

1. Listen hard.
I’m one of those (likely annoying) writers who often works on the sense that the characters, and the story, exist somewhere in the ether, and it’s my job to transcribe as best I can. I find that if my dialogue keeps coming out stilted, I’m trying to force them to do something that’s not consistent with their character or situation (or not what they want to do). I get into their heads and listen harder, and it often smoothes out.

2. Read it aloud.
Even act it out a little. Read it as though you were reading it at a storytelling event, or for kids (if it’s not a graphic scene, but of course). You may _hear_ what’s missing or what’s too much when it’s spoken.

3. The most important “rule” I try to keep in mind: BALANCE.
A lot of time when dialogue feels stilted and awkward to me, when I’m writing OR reading, it’s because that’s all that’s going on. The writer has something particular that needs to be expressed (or the characters do), and that’s all we see. That’s where we get into he said/she said, simple exchanges back-and-forth.

But real-life dialogue isn’t like that, is it? Your husband says something, and while he’s talking you notice that the wind’s picked up outside, and you think you need to move the chairs before they blow over. You may say that next, before you respond to his point. Or you say something to your child, how naughty she’s being, but at the same time you’re gently wiping the food off her face. There are thoughts, actions, and changes in focus that go on—and to me, balancing these things in a fictive dialogue makes it FAR more interesting.

Show a difference between the words spoken and the thoughts—this gives depth, and shows subtexts. Change the focus for a minute (the wind example above)—this gives the reader perspective, and sometimes a breather, particularly if it’s an intense conversation. Put in actions that are direct reflections of the conversation, AND as well, some that are not, but are reflective of other things going on. Also, don’t forget to add different senses into the mix. All of this makes a dialogue far more “real”.

4. Another note, about individualizing characters in historical fiction specifically. Be wary with accents and historical words; they’re easy to overdo, and then your dialogue just is hard to make out, or sounds ridiculous. Sprinkle things in. But more interestingly, use metaphors particular to your character and/or time period. (My MC’s father, a mason, says: “Clearly I should not have trusted a girl of sixteen summers to have sense enough to lay one stone over the other.” This makes sense for him, but isn’t something any of the other characters would say.) Also, use different rhythms and sentence structure to distinguish different people, rather than just accents.

Medieval Word of the Day: runkle (Scots and north): a wrinkle or crease.

Listen and Reflect

Today I'm thinking about feedback, and how critical it is in the process of becoming a writer. Not just that you get feedback--that is vital, unless you're a random genius who is perfect, and then we would all have to hate you--but how you judge it, and how you accept it.

Newbies, for example, are often swayed by the slightest breeze of a comment. I tread particularly carefully when critting newbies, because they are so very easy to crush. "You have an opinion about my work? (You actually read my work, wow!) Of course you're right! I'll change it right away!" And then the next critiquer comes along and says the opposite, and the newbie changes again. And again. We have all been there. Finally at some point it comes home, with a slam. How can all of these people be right, when they contradict each other? And why should they know more about my characters than me?

Unfortunately, this leads some into the donkey phase. I will not budge my work is right I am the only one who knows here let me explain to you what this really means and why you just aren't seeing it correctly...

Hmm, perhaps this should be the "toddler phase" instead.

Donkey/toddler people think that they want feedback, but they don't. They want validation that their work is perfect as is, and praise up the wazoo. When they don't get that, they either argue or they lash out, but they don't listen. (Some writers are, I fear, trapped in the donkey/toddler phase.)

At a certain point, if you're really taking this thing seriously and want to succeed, you have to move into "listen and reflect". Here you ask a variety of people for feedback (of course, not just your friends, your mom, or your co-workers; also ask experts in your field, your historical area, the region your book takes place in, and agents, if you're that far in), and you LISTEN. Carefully. Attentively. With as much distance as you can muster. You resist the urge to jump in and say "but but". You write down their comments, or you save them in neat files. You say "thank you very much; your feedback is so important to me." Then you don't look at it for a while (more distance).

When you've gathered a bunch, you take it all out and look at it again, all together. Chances are those points that seemed so hurtful and mean the first time (and yes, sometimes they still do) seem much calmer and more reasoned now. So now you can analyze it. Is there a pattern? Are different people saying the same things? Weigh them based on their expertise. Put more weight on the regional critiquer's comments about the landscape than your neighbor's. ;)

Then, most important, reflect. Which ones resonate with you? Which suggestions are things that had crossed your mind, but you really didn't want to admit it? Which ones make you excited to think about changing? Which ones cause you to think differently about the whole work, see how it could be better?

This is what I'm doing with TMT. I've gotten a little flak here and there that I'm "changing it for agents" or "changing it based on a few comments". No. Three agents read it and made comments, and some of those comments were RIGHT ON. I knew it, after my defense mechanisms shut down. I knew that the book was okay as is, but if I did these things it would be oh so much better. I'm not writing "to" anybody, except me. But I asked, then I listened, and then I reflected. I think if you do anything else in this business--if you're a swayer or a donkey--you're sunk before you start.

Medieval Word of the Day: recolage: wanton or riotous conduct.

Baddies

Yesterday, oddly enough, I did not feel like posting on the blog. So, in a self-indulgent mood, I did not. So there. ;)

Today I'm thinking (again) about villains. Why are they so fun to write and read about? If we met someone in real life who was mean and nasty and did evil things just to mess with us, we would not want MORE of it. We would steer clear of them, or perhaps report them to our local law enforcement or mental health facility. But in fiction? Give us more evil, baby.

Huh. Must be some sort of psychological explanation for that...

Anyway, I love to write them, and as far as I know everybody loves to read them. They give us delicious shivers.

You know, it's funny. In the piece I was working on yesterday, there's even an incidental villain. Somebody who only appears in one scene, whose ill-will against the MC is not personal, who just is evil because of his situation, and his less-than-yummy personality. But still it's fun:

From The Murderess's Tale, Copyright 2006 by Susan Adrian, All Rights Reserved

I wiggled out from behind the boxes, blinking in the sunlight. A green, rolling landscape stretched before me, tilled fields and sheep holdings pricked by spreading trees. The scent of new-mown hay blew on the wind. I jumped when a face popped into view, just above the wagon bed.

It was a singularly unpleasant face, wrinkled and brown as a walnut shell, now twisted in a scowl. And out of proportion, his head far too big for his small body.

"What do ye out there?" He scrambled into the bed with practiced ease, then scuttled towards me. I could not move. He shoved me behind the boxes, knocking me painfully back on my bound hands.

"There now," he said. His voice was low and scratchy, as if little used. "Now I shall give ye the way o' things."

I narrowed my eyes at him, as much response as I could manage with the gag, and inched up to sitting again, silently praying to St. Catherine, the patron saint of virgins.

"We've to go in the castle now. So as not to bring questions," he raised shaggy eyebrows at me, "I'll loose yer bonds afore we go in. Ye'll sit up front wi' me."

My breath came fast. Here was my chance.

"Should ye forgit yerself…" The little man pulled a long, wicked knife from his waist with startling speed, and waved it at me. "I'll remind ye quick. Aye?"

Isn't he cool? Even though of course he's NOT. And I don't even know his name, this strange little big-headed walnut man. But I enjoyed writing him...

Medieval Word of the Day: scathel: injurious, harmful, dangerous.