Motivation

A popular post from December 2007

By Julie Wright

This isn't about you--the writer. If you're not motivated to write, go yell at your muse and get back to work.

This is about your character.

I recently finished the book Dragon Slippers by Jessica Day George. Her characters intrigued me. I believed them--all of them. I believe the things they did, because I understood what motivated them. Jessica took a young girl, not destined to become much or do anything grand, and made her marvelous.

It didn't happen over a single page-turn, but throughout the entire book. Little by little her motivations were molded and shaped into a moment where she alone decided the fate of a country. In the beginning our heroine, Creel, would never have punched a princess in the nose or faced down a small army of dragons. But things change for characters--or at least they should.

What changes our characters? Motivation.

A woman who loves chocolate needs no motivation to eat a chocolate cake. She sees the cake and eats it because it's there. But that same woman who has a deathly fear of heights might need some motivation to cross an old rickety bridge spanning a deep chasm. She isn't going to cross the bridge merely because it's there. She needs some motivation.

Say we have that same woman, who has never so much as used a mousetrap to kill a mouse, and we need her to kill someone. She doesn't kill people, she can't even kill mice. But a properly motivated woman *could* kill another person.

That person she needs to kill might be standing in front of that bridge she has to cross. That person is blocking her way. On the other side of that bridge is her two year old son, who's been kidnapped by terrible people for terrible purposes. She's in a hurry. She's a mom. She is desperate and there is a person and a bridge standing in her way.

Now that she's properly motivated, she could conceivably kill the man in her way and cross her bridge.

On the other hand, it is conceivable that we could get the nefarious character to do something noble and even, dare we say, good. In the right circumstances anyone is capable of doing anything.

Characters need motivations that are compelling--motivations such as fear, anger, pain, desire, greed, hunger, love, and morality.

The nice man who cares for his sister's child isn't going to break a window and steal a loaf of bread. But if his sister's child is starving and close to death and he himself is starving, he would break that window.

The motivation has to exist--even if it is only imagined. Much Ado About Nothing is a perfectly executed plot driven by imagined motivation.

It's your job as the author to make certain I believe in your circumstances. Ask questions while you write. Ask your characters why they are doing something (and don't feel insane when they answer, writer's are allowed to be slightly schotzophrenic). If your why reasons sound shallow and even lame, you need to rework your story. If you aren't sure, ask someone who you trust to tell you the truth.

Always ask why.

Death and Rebirth

A popular post from December 2007

by Annette Lyon

One of the most powerful recurring themes in all of literature is that of death.

I'd go as far as to say that every story is about death, whether that's a literal death or a symbolic one. Quite often the death is followed by a rebirth of some sort.

If we use the 3-act screenplay format to describe a novel, the most dramatic death/rebirth generally occurs near the end of the second act, or with about 1/4 of the story yet to go, but others generally occur along the way as well.

Literal deaths include times when a character is experiencing or is around death, perhaps witnessing a loved one pass away.

Symbolic deaths can include cheating death and coming out the other side with a new perspective on life and the goal for the story, sort of a "NOW I get what it's about" moment. That realization turns the story in a new direction for the final act.

Stories often have a number of death/rebirth moments, because any time a character changes, leaving behind a former self, it's a symbolic death of the old self and rebirth of the new. It can take something dramatic to shake up a character's status quo, to make them change course, and a death/rebirth can do that.

These are powerful moments for the reader, which is why so many classic stories, blockbuster movies, and best-selling books include death and rebirth moments.

As an example, let's look at Disney's movie Beauty and the Beast, and at the Beast's character in particular. (Belle changes and has deaths/rebirths, too. Think how the concept applies to her as well.)

The beast's first brush with death is when he saves Belle from the attacking wolves. After he saves her, he collapses in the snow and even appears to be dead.

Belle decides not to abandon her rescuer and instead nurses him back to health. This prompts their first significant conversation ("Ouch! That hurts!") and provides the first turning point in their relationship from captor/prisoner to being icily tolerant allies.

As their friendship progresses, the Beast moves into the death of his old self. His pride and selfishness peel off like a snake's skin, and he learns to love another person. An outward expression of the birth of his new self is the scene where he bathes, dresses, gets a haircut, and otherwise gets ready for a special night with Belle.

(Side note here: An outward sign of Belle's inner death and rebirth occurs during their dinner that night, when she abandons her expectation that he use a spoon and instead raises her bowl and drinks from it. She's accepting who he is and no longer requiring him to fit her mold.)

Later on, the Beast frees Belle from her obligation, which shows his complete transformation but also sends him into essentially a death of the heart, which he doesn't recover from until Belle's return.

At that point we get the nearest to death the Beast ever comes: he and Gaston have it out, and the latter comes after the Beast from the back. In true villain fashion, such underhandedness is promptly punished, for after he stabs the Beast in the back, Gaston falls to his death. Belle pulls the Beast from a certain physical death (apparently with miraculous strength) onto the castle tower.

It is in that moment we see the final death/rebirth: the spell is broken when Belle declares her love for him, and the Beast melts away and transforms into the prince he's been inside this entire time.

Without such dramatic external and internal shifts between life and death, the story would lack much of its power.

As you read and watch movies in the next little while, pay attention to the deaths and rebirths. It might be Luke Skywalker apparently dying and in the trash compactor and managing to get out alive anyway. Or maybe it's Buzz Lightyear who faces the death of who he has always believed himself to be--a space ranger, not a toy--and in trying to hold onto his former identity, nearly kills himself physically by falling and breaking off his arm.

Look at your latest story and try to identify when your main characters face death, both literally and symbolically. What parts of them die? What parts are reborn? What do they learn from each death and rebirth? Does someone actually die? What is the rebirth that follows? Do you have one final, powerful death/rebirth scene that propels your character into the final act?

Don't start killing off characters for the sake of playing with your reader's emotions, but do take a look at where you can use those moments of change to enhance your characters, their problems, their goals, and their ultimate rewards.

Give the Apple a Worm

A popular post from March 2008

by Julie Wright
There are three main elements to every story regardless of how short or how long. The three elements are:

• Character
• Conflict
• Resolution

You need the first . . . the character . . . because people like to read about other people. Even when we read children’s books about animals or bugs, we always give those things human attributes.
We like to read about other’s lives because we like to escape our own lives. We want to become the character so we can sympathize, or at least be able to relate to the character so we can empathize. Without characters you cannot achieve emotional depth.
Jeff Savage has taught me to never solicit unearned emotion. Killing off a character in the beginning of the book and having the widow sobbing at the gravesite is kind of interesting, but we don’t really care. We don’t know the guy in the casket. So make sure your characters are in place. Properly introduce us to them so we want to like them, and root for them, and mourn with them. So we care when things go wrong. If you even give a small scene to that couple before the husband dies, then you come to like them and you’ve earned the emotion of pain when he dies.
Conflict stirs things up and makes things happen. Without conflict your story will be boring. I have found on the occasions where I’ve helped brand new writers with manuscripts that the most common issue their manuscripts have is not enough conflict. Too often people think that conflict is just the: you say tomato and I say tomahto. They consider the odd couple squabbling a good enough conflict
And while this has been used in several successful plots, there are always other subtle conflicts going on as well. There are opposing desires, death, stress, tension with work, tension with school, tension with family members. Every human being alive interacts on many levels with many different people. So you can use the ploy of differing personalities as your conflict, but make sure there is something more. Pride and Prejudice pulled this off expertly.
The whole concept was Elizabeth determined to hate this proud MR Darcy because he said tomato and she said tomahto. But there was so much more going on. You had the nefarious Wickham not only making Elizabeth’s heart race but also stealing the attention of her sister and causing disgrace for the family. You had ridiculous Mr. Collins proposing to sensible Elizabeth. You had Mr. Bingley who loved Jane, but was separated from her by his friends and family. And you had Mr. Bennett, an intelligent man who married an absurd woman for her beauty, and now has to live with the fact that she’s absurd. There are layers and layers of conflict within that novel. That’s how all of us should be writing.
Every day we all come in contact with personal conflict. (Ask someone what their conflict was in the last week.) It's that conflict and the struggle the characters has to undergo that keeps us readers interested and in suspense. Will the character succeed or won't he? And when is this all going to happen? And how is it all going to happen?
Imagine writing a children’s book with me for a moment.
There once was an apple. The apple was red. The apple hung from the tree until it rotted off the branch. The end.
There is not one kid in the world who would think that was an interesting children’s book. I don’t care how good the artist is who illustrates the thing, Harper Collins will never buy it. And no child would ever want to read it.
So make something happen. Give the apple a worm.
Or give the girl a boyfriend.
Or give the coworker that promotion your character worked so hard for.
Resolution
Something that starts has to finish, one way or another.Once you have created great characters, which the reader will come to care about, and you have placed them in conflict, that conflict at the end of your story has to be resolved. The characters will achieve their goals or they won't.
That doesn't matter.
You can end your story as you please and as it suits your story - but you have to end it. Ending the story means resolving the conflict. In the end everyone must be happy. And being happy doesn’t always have to mean that everything is perfect, but loose ends must be tied up and the characters must have reconciled themselves to the imperfect life.
Each layer of conflict has been resolved in a daisy chain of inter-connectedness, one closure bringing the closure of another.
When creating problems for your main characters, think along two lines. A big, external conflict that forms the plot and keeps the story moving, and an internal conflict that forces your character to change, reflecting the theme. This will give your story depth, and give your readers something to think about.

Show 'Em Talking

A popular post from February 2008

by Annette Lyon

Recently I edited a couple of books by talented writers. In both cases, the bulk of my comments related to the old adage, "Show, don't tell."

Both writers knew how to show, but didn't do it quite often enough.

And in the vast majority of cases, the solution to switching the telling into showing was placing the situation into a concrete scene and getting the characters talking.

Basically, dialogue.

It's hands-down one of the best ways to show. Not only is it a relatively easy (just record the movie in your head), but characters speaking will transform your work from a simple narration into a story with life.

Read your work, and every time you see a section where someone "told" something or "thought" something (when implied as speech) highlight it. Each one is an opportunity to show with added dialogue. Be sure to include contextual details (Where are your characters? What are they doing?) so your characters aren't just voices in your readers' heads.

An example:

My sister thought I was nuts for singing a rock song at the auditions for the school musical.

Let's try again. Picture a movie camera recording the scene. What do we see? What do we hear? Don't report what happened. Make it happen before our eyes.

I stepped off the stage from my audition to thunderous applause coming from three of my buddies in the back corner. I raised my arm, acknowledging them with a humble nod as if performing to a sold out crowd. "Thank you, thank you," I said. "You're too kind."

As I sauntered down the aisle, my sister sunk down into her chair. When I sat beside her she rolled her eyes away from me. "Pink Floyd? For a Sound of Music audition? You're totally nuts. From here on, I'm denying that I'm related to you. There's no way we share the same genetics."

I grinned, resting the back of one foot on the chair in front of me and crossing the other on top. "Nuts?" I said, hands clasped behind my head. "Quite possibly. But memorable."

The magic is in the details.

If you have a character who is shy, put him in a situation where he has to speak shyly. If you have a boss who's mean, don't report it. Show him screaming at his employees. Let us hear his words.

Show, don't tell. It's a crucial element to fiction.

But if it helps you remember to apply it, change the phrase to, "Show 'em talking."

Choose Your Characters

A popular post from February 2008

by Lu Ann Staheli

Characters exist in both fiction and non-fiction. In fiction we know these people, animals, or creatures as protagonists and antagonists. The protagonist is the good guy, the one we root for to get what they wanted in the end. The antagonist is the one who tries to stop our hero from reaching his or her goal. In non-fiction, the character is the narrator. This may be the voice of teacher, the sage, or simply one who has been there. Character roles may also be played by businesses, natural disasters, disease, or any one of hundreds of other topics covered in a non-fiction book.

In both fiction and non-fiction, we will likely see characters of two types. Major characters are those who play a significant role in bringing change. Often they change within themselves, growing through the learning they do. Because of this growth, they are known as round characters. A flat character plays a minor role in the story. Like bit players on the stage, these characters make brief appearances that rarely effect the outcome of the story.

An author must choose a point of view from which we will get to know the characters. First-person is most often used in adolescent novels where the reader wants to have a close connection to the main character, see what she sees, feel what she feels. Although rarely used, second person point of view might find a place in a non-fiction How To book, but writers must be careful not to sound too demanding when they use this voice. Perhaps the most difficult for the novice writer, but also the most accepted by editors and readers is third person point of view. Whether third person omniscient—the all seeing, all knowing god who understands what everyone is feeling—or the third person limited, who follows around a single character, describing all from their own point of view, using third person allows more freedom to the storyteller than either first or second person does.

Once an author knows their character and point of view, they begin to use syntax, diction, punctuation, and dialogue to develop the character, adding their own style. This becomes the author’s unique voice, a trait highly sought after by editors. Using the right voice for the desired audience will form a winning combination, a book that editors can’t let pass them by.

Basic Training

A popular post from January 2008

By Julie Wright

This is just some good old fashioned nuts and bolts writing information for today. I am writing this post mainly because I've done a lot of editing books for new authors, and because I've done a lot of reading of author's first books and think we could all benefit from a little refresher course.

There is a broadway musical called Urinetown. In the opening scene officer Lockstock explains the musical to the audience.

Little Sally comes along and asks, “Say, Officer Lockstock, is this where you’re going to tell them about the water shortage?”

To which Officer Lockstock replies, “Everything in its time, Little Sally. You’re too young to understand it now, but nothing can kill a show like too much exposition.”

Little Sally ponders this, and then replies, “How about bad subject matter? Or a bad title? That could kill a show pretty good.”

“Yes, yes, a bad title and too much exposition!” Since the subject matter of this musical is pretty bad, the title is outright horrible, and the fact that the whole first ten minutes was exposition and explaining why exposition is bad, it all worked as a marvelous parody and a downright funny scene.

In a new author's manuscript where he isn't trying to make a mockery of the scene, it's not funny.

You've all heard it--show don't tell. Exposition is where we find ourselves giving a summary of events and dialogue rather than putting it into real action and dialogue. Exposition reads like a laundry list of things the character did and said today. Readers don't want to be told a story. They want to be in the story.

Instead of TELLing your readers that Emma is depressed and frustrated, SHOW her taking a bite of her favorite cake and pushing the rest away.

Instead of TELLing your reader that Sam's car is a broken-down wreck, SHOW him twisting two bare wires together to get the headlights to come on.

Instead of TELLing your readers. “Amanda took one look at the hotel room and recoiled in disgust.” SHOW the cockroach crawling over the edge of the bathroom sink, crawling down the cabinet (hanging by a single hinge), scurrying across the threadbare carpet, and disappearing under the rusty bed that sags in the middle.

Instead of saying: My mom hated my new hair cut. Make it: Mom reached for my head, but her hand halted at the place where my long curls should have been as though she could still sense them there, as though she were one of those amputees who still felt phantom pain in a leg long gone. "What have you done to your hair?"
"I cut it."
"I can see that! Why would do such a stupid thing? You look like an army sergeant. You need to fix this!"
I snorted at that. "What do you want me to do? Should I go back to the salon and demand they glue it all back?"
My mom pulled her hand away and wiped it on the front of her skirt as though she'd touched something dirty.

The exposition was dry . . . part of a laundry list. But showing the scene creates tension and character development. Now you don't have to tell us that Anne and her mom don't always agree. You don't have to tell us that Anne is independent, and does what she wants in spite of other people's opinions. You don't have to tell us that Anne falls into sarcasm in an effort to win arguements. You don't have to tell us that Anne's mother is a more traditional person. You can sense that by the fact she disapproves of Anne's new hair style--by the fact that she's wearing a skirt.

One conversation of realistic dialogue and we know quite a bit about these characters. The exposition would have put us to sleep.

In your writing, avoid lengthy bouts of exposition. Avoid the laundry list of what your character did and said today. Put your reader in your story by making them feel as though they are living it.

Unexamined Lives

A popular post from March 2009

By Julie Wright

Plato said, "The unexamined life is not worth living." From that one could also say that the unlived life is not worth examining. And from that one could also say that a character without a life isn't worth reading.

Life is messy if you're bothering to live it well. It's all fine to live safely, but people who lock themselves into their houses and use antibacterial soap aren't usually the most interesting people out there. If your characters are like these people, your book won't make it past page five (and that's if the reader is generous)

We like to hear about people who are doing things. And we are never bored when our friends call us up to tell us their problems.

This is why your characters should have problems. They should be out doing things. Don't open your book with characters looking at a sunset (unless the sun is rocketing towards earth in a cataclysmic event that will burn us all up within the next 24 hours and the hero has to figure out how to harness the sun and put it back in its own orbit). Don't open your book with characters waking up, having a bowl of cereal, and brushing their teeth. The mundane is synonymous with life unlived. We need action!

And the best action comes from characters solving their own problems. David Gerrold said, "the bigger the problem, the bigger the character has to be to solve it." And if you want to justify telling the story you're telling, you'd better be writing that character and his problem absurdly huge.

Some problems come from a challenge. The character accepts a challenge or takes on a challenge and falls into crisis (think Lord of the Rings).

And your character must go through the try-fail cycle. He'd better go through it a few times (three is what they suggest) This means he tries to overcome his problem and fails, tries to overcome his problem and fails. But the real failure is the guy who doesn't get back up when you knock him down. So your character had better not be that guy. Your character had better be the guy hauling his backside up and shouting, "Is that all you've got?" Your character must win.

Give your characters life by letting them dive into the messy complications of REALLY living. And if you're starting to worry about yourself becoming boring, maybe take on a challenge or two for yourself on your off writing days . . . it'll give you more to write about.

Nothing But Trouble

A popular post from September 2009

By Julie Wright

I read a book several years ago where the characters did a great job of avoiding trouble. They skirted around it in all sorts of creative ways, but never actually confronted trouble head on. I never finished the book. I gave it a good shot--way more than it deserved and read 200 pages before frustration took over and I gave up.

Nothing was happening. YAWN.

Your characters have to get into trouble because that's what creates conflict. Conflict is interesting. Trouble is interesting. Trouble can also be . . . well . . . trouble.

I don't know about you, but sometimes my characters are great at getting into major trouble, but not so great at getting out again. They can wind up in all sorts of huge calamities, the entire world can be falling to piece around them and I agonize over how to piece that world back together again.

Over time I've learned that if my characters can get into a fine mess, they'd better just get themselves out.

Convenience is a writer's enemy. It's tempting to help your characters out and throw them the olive branch of convenience, but you aren't doing them (or yourself) any favors. Convenience looks just like it is--too convenient. You lose your reader's trust when you start making your characters do things that don't make sense to the character you've developed. You can't betray the persona's you've created simply because you NEED the character to get up in the middle of the night and go downstairs for leftover cheesecake so they can overhear a conversation that will lead them to the murderer when your character is a deep sleeper and they're allergic to cheesecake.

Stay away from convenience.

And your character got into their own trouble . . . make them smart enough and resourceful enough to get out of it. We like characters who can think on their feet. The damsel in distress who always needs to be taken care of by the hunky hero is really not compelling. A butt-kickin' chick who can break out of her own prisons? She's someone we want to read about, even if it is her own fault she landed herself in prison.

Also stay away from false conflicts.

The kind where the character thinks they are in all kinds of life threatening peril but in reality the character's best friend is in control the whole time. It's the difference between the tummy tickle of a roller coaster while you're strapped into the train car and the tummy tickle you get when jumping out of an airplane dependant only on a parachute that you packed yourself. Did you pack it right? Do you know how soon to pull the cord? That is the parachute on your back, right? You didn't grab your backpack by mistake?

That real peril--way more interesting.

At least in books. I don't personally make habits out of jumping out of perfectly good airplanes. I don't care who packed the chute.

Starting Your Book

A popular post from August 2009

By Heather Moore

When I meet writers who are looking to get published, they often ask me how I decide where to start my story, who the characters will be, and how I plot.

So as I’m preparing to write my next book, I thought I’d give you some insight into my process.

1. Thinking. Maybe mulling is the more correct word. I have to have the main character pretty well defined in my mind before starting to write. The secondary characters come into the story to support the main character—and sometimes they surprise even me.

2. Creating a schedule. Writing, of course, is not always controlled by that effervescent muse (Annette—I’m probably using effervescent wrong). Writing is part creativity, and part science. Editing definitely falls into the science category, as well as actually completing a book. Like any writer, I’m constantly pulled in different directions. But once I decide on a book, I need to create the schedule to get it completed, and limit any other stories in my head that are trying to derail priority number 1. For example, if I decide to turn in a book on December 1st to my publisher and I start on August 1st, I divide the word count by the number of writing days. And I leave a couple of weeks in for editing. August: 25,000 words (average 1,000 words a day, 5 days/week). September: 25,000 words, October: 25,000 words, November: 10,000 (2 weeks), 2 weeks of edits.

3. Character sketching. This is an evolving process and changes and grows as I get further into the writing process. For instance, when I write my first draft, my character motivations aren’t usually ironed out. I’m writing mostly plot and dialog. About half-way through draft 1, I’ve had to make solid decisions about my characters, so I’m adding information to my character sketches as I go. So during the 2nd draft, I’m inserting more characterization to the beginning of the book.

4. Point of view & tense: I take into consideration who my audience will be and who the most important characters are. Will the story happen in real time (present tense) or past tense? Will my characters speak in first person (ideal for YA), or third person? It’s a lot of work to change this part of the process, so doing your research beforehand will save you a lot of time later.

5. Conflict. This goes hand in hand with character sketching. I have to ask myself what is the main conflict of the book, and of each character.

6. Beginning. Now that I have some basics going and I actually sit down to write, I usually concentrate on where I want the story to begin. Not to say that the first chapter I write will be the actual first chapter of the book, but I start pretty near the beginning. Before I start a chapter/scene, I ask myself: “What is the point of the chapter? What will be accomplished? What will it show that may/may not be relevant to the story as a whole?”

7. Creating a scene. I create scenes in several phases. Phase 1: writing and not caring too much about “fleshing out” the characters or the description, but I am nailing down the direction of the scene. Phase 2: revising the scene and inserting more description, making more concrete decisions about the character. Phase 3: this will happen when the whole book is drafted and maybe new developments have happened along the way. So I now have to go back through each scene to make sure the story is properly directed. As you can see, creativity has just been replaced by careful analysis (science).

Okay, looking over this list makes me wonder why I even start a new book. Every writer has what works for them. My style might be convoluted, but you never know, it might work for you as well.

Characterization: It’s hard to do

A popular post from July 2009

By Heather Moore

The other night I saw “The Proposal” with a friend of mine. Whether or not you like “chick flicks” there were some great characters in there. Yes, a little predictable, but sometimes when watching a movie and analyzing characters, the “aha” light goes on. It’s a little easier to define why one character works and is endearing or relatable, while another might not be, when you see a 2 hour movie.

But what I really want to discuss is a movie I saw a couple of weeks ago, called “New in Town.” Renee Zellweger’s character is a smart, classy, climbing-the-corporate-ladder type. (Incidentally this was the same character-type as Sandra Bullock in The Proposal—but Sandra played it oh-so-much better).

The plot for “New in Town” and Renee’s character were cliché-ish and quite predictable. Renee’s job was to go into a small-town manufacturing plant, that the corporation she worked for had purchased, and to make it profitable. But who shined in the movie was the secretary, played by Siobhan Hogan. She was quirky and her famous, but top-secret, Tapioca recipe became an integral part of the plot. Siobhan’s character “stole the show” and her naivety and small-town good-heartedness felt real, easy to relate to, and easy to picture her as your neighbor.

Here are the things that made up her character:
-Loves scrapbooking, finds value in it and spends time with her neighbors doing it.
-Is the type of person to invite others over for dinner, even if it’s just meatloaf. Which leads to that she’s the type of person who doesn’t put on airs. Meatloaf is good enough for her, so it’s good enough for anyone else.
-Generous and willing to share her Famous Tapioca. Yet, she will not give out the recipe no matter how she is bribed.
-She is trustworthy and trusts back. Also a peacemaker.
-She is a romantic and wants everyone to be happy.
-She lives in a very cold climate but makes the best of it.
-She states her opinion but doesn’t force it on anyone.
-She’s a bit naïve and goes through several upsets because of it.
-She is funny, but unassuming.
-Even when she is emotionally distraught, she makes Tapioca and takes it over to her “enemy”.

I hope this gives you a more rounded view of characterization. It’s not just about description, but about the core of the person. When faced with two choices, which choices would your character make?

For a quick study (and a quick read), I’d recommend Everything is Fine by Ann Dee Ellis. She is a YA author, and her characterization of Mazzy was impressive in that book.

Lenses

A popular post from July 2009

Several years ago, I took a trip to New York with my sisters and mother. That's a story in and of itself (summary: fun, fun, good food, fun, fun, Broadway show, fun, fun!).

But there was one element of the trip that jumped out at me because of our personalities. And, because I'm a weird writer person, it's stayed with me all these years.

To understand, first, here's a bit of background on each of us:

Mom, since the time she was little, has been fascinated with all things Jewish. She's not a Jew, but I'm betting she knows more about Jewish history, humor, and even Jewish law than your average Jew does. She literally has bookshelves filled with this stuff. She was once offered a free subscription to some Jewish women's magazine because they thought she was Jewish.

My older sister is a foodie and former caterer. She loves hole-in-the-wall bakeries and can come up with recipes that would rival anything you'd find in one. Recently at such a bakery, she pointed to some cupcakes, rolled her eyes, and said, "I could do much better than that." (And she totally could.)

I'm . . . well, you know me. I'm the writer.

My little sister is very much into fashion. Aside from the time I showed up at her house early in the morning, there's not a time I've seen her in her adult life where she hasn't been properly coiffed and accessorized to the hilt.

Okay, so back to New York.

Driving through Manhattan, I flipped out. "Look! It's Random House! RANDOM HOUSE!!!!"

It was a HUGE building with massive lettering, but none of them noticed it, instead saying, "What? Where?" (And I think my little sister might have even said, "What's Random House?")

I saw a ton of other publisher names on buildings, and each time I squealed, imagining what was happening in the upper floors of each one.

As we walked through the streets of Manhattan later on, Mom gasped, stopped, and pointed. We all halted and backed up to see what amazing sight we'd missed. She pointed out an itty bitty Jewish store (seriously, like six feet wide) with the prettiest menorahs she'd ever seen. The other three of us had walked past without even seeing it; the place was one of a thousand windows we'd passed that day.

Not ten minutes later, my older sister was drooling and gaping at another window, and the rest of us had to backtrack to see the darling little bakery she found that displayed cakes that were practically works of art.

Throughout the entire trip, my younger sister, I swear, was drawn to every fashion spot there was as if they had a homing device on them.

It was as if each of us saw Manhattan through an entirely different lens. I wonder what things I missed because my lens was so different than Mom's or my sisters'. I was glad I had them all with me; I was able to have things pointed out that I would have missed because my lens didn't catch them. All four of us walked the same streets, went to the same sites, saw the same Broadway play. Yet we all actually saw different things.

As you write, think about your characters in the same way. What lens do each of your characters see their world through?

What things stand out to them in their regular world?

If they go someplace new and different, what will stand out to them there? What will they not notice so much because of who they are?

What interests, strengths, and weaknesses help to shape their world into the one they view as "real"?

The "real" New York probably doesn't exist; it's a place millions of people experience in millions of ways, because everyone has their own lens.

Be sure to give each of your characters their own lens too.

The Unlovable Character

A popular post from December 2009

By Julie Wright

I have a confession to make. I write unlovable characters. I do it ALL the time. I like the growth that comes from a character who starts out with a bit of bite. And what's more, I think sarcasm is funny. If you stick with my characters long enough, you will find them softened and lovable by the end of the story, but some people think writing the unlovable is impossible.

I'm here to say it is very possible. To start out with someone who is reprehensible and then grow to love them makes for a fun journey for the reader as well as the character. It allows the reader access to understand other people, other motives, other walks of life. It allows the reader to grow and find compassion and comprehension within themselves.

I don't write the unlovable as a moral object lesson for readers. I think I write them because I was so unlovable for so many years of my youth and I can relate to the unlovable.

But how do you write snarky, ill-tempered characters and keep people from throwing your book across the room, or worse from writing you and demanding a refund?

Daphne Atkeson, someone I know from an online writer's group for YA novels, created what she calls a "cheat sheet" of ways to establish early empathy (not sympathy) for a character. She gathered this information from several craft books by Billy Mernitt, Michael Hague, Donald Maas and Orson Scott Card.

Here is her list with her permission:

-- undeserved misfortune

-- Liked or loved by someone else

-- Good at something, has a strength

-- Trying to improve or be good

-- Wit or boldness

-- Aware of his flaws

-- Has some power

-- Has a familiar flaw

-- Shows forgiveness

-- Self sacrifice.

Four keys. A character must have:

1) PURPOSE--most important--what he wants, must be specific

2) CREDIBILITY--believable

3) EMPATHY--not sympathy, don't feel sorry for him, identify with
problem.

4) COMPLEXITY--inner conflict, more than one side, surprise us with
unseen aspects, contradictions and quirks

To the degree that your character feels passionately invested in his own
life, the reader will feel invested, too.

CHARACTER TIPS from Blake Snyder (Save the Cat)

Character must be someone we can.

1) Identify with

2) Learn from

3) Compelling reason to follow

4) Deserves to win

5) Primal stakes that ring true (primal means sex, food, survival,
saving loved one, fear of death)

As I looked over the list, I realized that I incorporate these methods and tools in my writing all the time. With my characters being who they are, I have to. But seeing her list gave me an understanding into my characters that I'd never had before, and from now on, I'll be writing these characters a little better than they were before. If you lean towards the unloved characters, this list might just be what you need.

Flawed (but Redeemable) Characters

A popular post from April 2009

by Annette Lyon

I consider myself lucky that I learned this lesson relatively early on: Make your characters likable.

The lesson for me was shortly after I joined my critique group. I read a chapter of my work in progress, and everyone around the table agreed on one thing:

My heroine was really unlikeable.

She was in a somewhat embarrassing situation, so I had her a bit defensive and trying to explain herself. She came across as rude and nasty.

I had no idea until they pointed it out, but after that meeting, I was able to stand back and see that they were right. I changed several scenes to make sure that she was sympathetic and that the reader was compassionate toward her, not annoyed or turned off.

With a few exceptions where anti-heroes actually work (think: Artemis Fowl), your hero and heroine need to be good, likable, people whom your readers can relate to and root for.

Let's use the romance genre as an example. In the classic format, boy gets girl, loses girl, and then gets girl. Ideally, the reader roots for them to get together, is dismayed when they're separated, and then rejoices when they finally commit and live happily ever after.

Your reader won't engage in that way if your heroine is whiny and snobbish or your hero is so arrogant he deserves to be left at the altar.

On the other hand, your characters can't be perfect, or we won't care about them. They need to be human. They need flaws.

But make them too flawed, and the reader hates them. So in a sense, you as the writer have to walk a narrow tightrope: How much of a flaw is too much?

Romances often have the hero and heroine despise one another at the outset. It usually works, but in that case, neither can be so despicable that the reader won't ever overcome their own dislike. The reader needs to see their flaws to understand why they hate each other, yet at the same time be able to see past the same flaws and want them to be together.

The classic example of a writer who pulled off this type of character arc is, of course, Jane Austen with Pride and Prejudice. We pretty much sympathize with Lizzy for the entire book, while Darcy comes across as pretty darn arrogant and irredeemable. Yet Austen made him human, and oh-so-redeemable when we see him in his own element at Pemberly.

Suddenly we know he's not only a good man, but a likable one. We start to think that maybe Lizzy was a bit off in her initial judgment. From there, of course, the more we learn about Darcy and the more we see his noble actions, the more we like him, so that by the end of the book, we're thrilled that he and Lizzy finally get together.

If we hadn't seen Darcy at home, if we hadn't learned about his relationship with his sister and how kind he is to his staff, and if weren't given good reasons for his earlier stiff behavior and prejudices, or learned about how he secretly saved the Bennett family honor, the story wouldn't be the classic it is today, two hundred years after its publication.

A romance I read recently, however, narrowly missed being chucked against my wall because of this very issue: the characters were unlikeable, not only toward each other (which, as we've discussed can work well), but to the reader. For the entire book.

By the end, I figured they were both so annoying that they deserved each other.

On the flip side, I read a remarkably well-written self-published romance that handled the hero and heroine perfectly. In the beginning, they had a dislike for one another, and for good reasons. They both had flaws (quite big ones) and issues they each needed to overcome. But none of the flaws were irredeemable, and none were too big. They were both very sympathetic characters, so well-drawn, layered, and human that they became quite real to me, and I believed the story.

Here's one of the biggest compliments I can give a book: there were times I got so engrossed in the story that I almost forgot there was a writer behind the scenes pulling the strings.

The other book, however, never let me forget for one minute that a writer had put the words together. One big reason was that the characters were so annoying that they never became real to me. They were caricatures, cardboard cutouts.

I won't publicly say what the first book was, but since the second one was so good (in spite of some minor line-editing issues) I want to give it some props.

For a good, flawed, very redeemable, and likable hero/heroine pair, read Seeking Persephone, by Sarah M. Eden. (It's a Whitney Award finalist for Best Romance, and in my opinion, it deserves the honor.)

It's definitely worth your time.

What Makes a Hero

A popular post from October 2008

By Josi S. Kilpack

Every book has a main character, also known as a protagonist, also known as a Hero or Heroine. Whether it's Dr. Seuss, Tolkien, or JK Rowling, every book is about somebody. That somebody carries the weight of the story on their shoulders because plot is what they are working toward, conflict is what is preventing them from getting what they want, setting is wehre they are, villians work against them; but everything in a story comes back to them. Therefore he/she/it needs to be worthy and prepared for such responsibility. There are some protagonist elements that vary from genre to genre--things like the male lead in a romance needs to be handsome and the detective in a mystery needs to be clever--but there are other things that every protagonist needs. Here are a few to keep in mind:

*Must be good. This is not to say they must be perfect or without sin, but the protagonist must, essentially, be a good person wanting good things. Their good things might include killing their enemies or something equally distasteful, but it's for a good reason.

*Must be interestng. No one wants to read about someone average. In fiction, average is boring. And yet, we all like to read about someone we can relate to. Your protagonist doesn't need to be a superhero, but she needs to be unique, she needs to bring something rather fantastic into the story. My daughter's science teacher is a heavy set woman, but she can do the splits and when the kids reach a certain goal, she preforms this for them. It's an absolutely facinating element of this woman, something you would never guess. That she can do this intriques me, that she's WILLING to do it in front of 30 seventh graders is even more amazing. It says something about her, points out things in her personality that make her someone I want to know. Look for interesting elements you can add to your character that make them intriquing and intersting.

*Must be strong. In addition to being good and interesting, the protagonist must be strong. Not necessarily physically (though that rarely hurts) but emotionally strong, able to break through the hardships thrust upon them, able to grow. In real life we all need internal strength to keep going, it's the same way in fiction, and while you can start with a weak character, you must show their potential quickly and have them end stronger than they began.

*Must have weaknesses. I'm not contradicting myself, but while your character shoudl be strong, they need to have weaknesses. This both allows the reader to identify with the character, but also allows conflict to take place. I strongly beleive that at least some elements of set backs in the story should be a result of the protagonists weaknesses. I want my readers to see that he made a poor decision, I want them to beleive that if he'd chosen differently he'd have never been in this mess. Allowing the reader to feel a little bit superior in this way lends to good reading.

*Must be consistant. You can't have your protagonist go wishy washy on you. If she's a vegitarian, she can't eat a hamburger because she's trying to kiss up to someone that has information she wants. She could pretend to eat it, but she wouldn't eat it because that would be inconsistent with who she is. If he's a chauvinist, you can't have him willingly submit to his wife while he's a tryrant to all other women in his life. You must identify your protagonists character and then make sure that everything they do fits into this. While it's fine to surprise your reader, the surprise must be a "Of course" type of surprise and not a "No way" type of surprise.

*Must have motivation. Why do they do the things they do? Because they are bored = a poor story and a weak character. Motivation is EVERYTHING, it defines your character for you once you know what motivates them to do what they will do. Once you truly know thier motives, they can be thrown into any situation and you know exactly how they will handle it. Motivation is the reason they do it, the force that pushes them, and the story, forward.

*Must grow. By the end of the story your readers should be able to look at your character and say "Wow, look at how he's grown!" The variations of growth are immense. Some characters will grow a lot, turning thier lives around, having found thier calling or their true love. Other's will simply be a little bit smarter, a little more compassionate, or a little more passionate for a cause. It doesn't have to be a complete transformation, but there needs to be marked progress. It restores our faith in ourselves, to realize that conflict equals growth.

So, think of the story your working on now. Think of your main character and ask yourself the following questions.
1--Is he/she/it essentially good?
2--What is it about my protagonist that stands out?
3--What are my character's internal strenghts?
4--What are his/her/its weaknesses that can add to the conflict?
5--Is he/she/it consistent througout the story?
6--What is my characters primary motivations?
7--Is my character stronger at the end than he/she/it was at the beginning?

Adding these elements to your character, if they aren't alredy there, will add texture, depth, and dimenstion to your story, regardless of genre or market.

Happy writing.

If You're Real, I Won't Kill You

A popular post from December 2009

by Annette Lyon

Due to the fact that it's holiday season and none of us are particularly active (or, let's face it, over our eggnog comas and even awake), this post is something from the archives of my personal blog.

It, however, writing-related: a writing first for me, and quite possibly an obsession.

Since that post first made its appearance back when I had oh, about a dozen people regularly reading my blog, I'm guessing that

1) most Writing on the Wall readers haven't seen it and

2) quite a few might relate to it.

(Happy New Year!)

**********

I think I was fourteen at the time. I’d gone with my mother to the local university bookstore, where she agreed to buy me a binder for my writing. It was a rosy pink. The binder still sits on a shelf in my office.

Once home, I eagerly filled it with notebook paper, then plopped onto the living room couch and began scribbling.

I had no concrete story idea; I was just in the mood to write. I began with an image and went with it: a little girl walking through a meadow where her imaginary friends lived. I’m sure the idea was a direct result of the fact that at the time, I constantly poured over the work of L.M. Montgomery, of Anne of Green Gables fame.

In the brief story, the girl greets fairies and other mythical creatures and bemoans how she has no other friends. The other children mock and tease her. She feels welcome only there with her magical companions. As I wrote, I discovered that the girl also has a serious illness and rarely gets to go out to her meadow.

She lies on the ground, hidden from sight by the flowers above and around her. Then she closes her eyes and whispers, “My dears, I’ve come to join you.”

And dies.

It was a perfectly melodramatic story for a teen to write. But overdone as the two-page ditty was, the ending hit me with a bolt of lightning. I closed the binder and stared at it, feeling not a little shaky.

A little girl was dead, and I had killed her.

It didn’t matter that she was fictional, that she hadn’t ever really inhabited this world, experienced life, or had a family to mourn her passing. (I worried about her poor mother—would she be able find her daughter under all those flowers?) In those few minutes I’d lived with her on the page, she had been real to me.

The sensation was odd—a creative rush combined with the sensation of intense guilt almost nauseating in its strength. The little dead girl seemed to haunt me for days afterward.

I’m sorry, I wanted to say. I didn’t mean to kill you. I didn’t know you’d die. It took a week or two to get over the guilt.

Then I had my first dip into research. I had to figure out what she’d died from, so I cracked open one of my mother’s many reference books and read up on various fatal illnesses that could strike children. For reasons I don’t recall, I settled on aplastic anemia, a disease I knew nothing about save for a brief description written in tiny text. The fact that a child minutes away from death wouldn’t be in a position to frolic in a meadow was pretty much irrelevant.

Since then, I’ve killed many fictional people, but I’ve reached the point where I no longer take responsibility for their deaths. I grieve when they die; they’re my friends, in a way. But it’s not my fault. Sometimes characters, just like people, die.

After reading At the Journey’s End, a man in my neighborhood came to me and said, “What is your problem with death?”

Confused, I asked, “What do you mean?”

“By the end of the first chapter, three people are dead.”

At first I was taken aback. THREE? No way. But then I thought through the opening of my book. One person dies in the prologue. One in the first chapter. Oh, wait. Two. Yep. That makes three. But both deaths in chapter one were real historical figures. I didn’t kill them. They actually died on that day in history; I just told about it.

As if that made it so much better.

So I thought back to my other books. My first one has a mother already dead before the book begins, which is pretty much what the plot revolves around. Plus a little girl’s kitten dies. Oh, and a man dies in the girl's presence. Almost forgot that one. My second book features two deaths. And House on the Hill? Several pretty major deaths. Plus a dog.
Wow, I thought. I do have some kind of fascination with killing people off.
The best response I could come up with for my neighbor was, “Rest assured, no one dies in my next book.” I paused to double-check, thinking through Spires of Stone just to be sure—did anyone—or anything—die in it? Even a cat or dog? A mouse? Nope. No one dies. Phew.

However . . . I can’t say the same for Tower of Strength. Sorry. It does have two deaths. Wait. Three. My obsession with the end of life is apparently quite healthy.

[Update: my upcoming Band of Sisters doesn't escape death either. It has at least two. Crimeny!]

But I’m innocent! I swear, I didn’t kill anyone. It’s not my fault, and I won’t feel guilty over it.

Okay, I still cried writing them.

Goodness, we writers are certainly an odd lot . . .

Just Call Me Hero

A popular post from March 2009

By: Julie Wright

Back in college I was engaged to a guy who, whenever he did something that merited a pat on the back, would strike a superman pose and say in a deep melodramatic voice, "Just call me hero!"

I didn't end up calling him hero (or marrying him--I know . . . I'm a fickle female) because there was someone else who deserved the title a little more.

Writing stories is like dating. You've got to weed through your options before you figure out who your hero is. And like dating, the hero you pick is totally dependent on the outcome you desire. So when picking your hero, or protagonist, how do you know who is best suited for the job?

Ask yourself a few questions:
*Who has the most to gain?
*Who has the most to lose?
*Who hurts the most (because let's face it, pain is interesting)
*Who is the character who will most connect to your reader?
*Whose story spans the greater part of the novel?

Knowing the answers to those questions will make it easier to find your protagonist--your story's true hero. In the novel I just completed, I have twin sisters who are separated. Both have compelling stories, both have much to lose and much to gain if the cards are played right. But one sister had enough *more* to lose--she hurt more. I picked the sister who hurt the most.

Because if the hero doesn't hurt, why do we care? And if the hero doesn't hurt, what will they over come to gain them the right to be the hero?

If you feel like your story isn't heading in the right direction, it may just be because you picked the wrong hero, or maybe you picked the right hero, but you didn't hurt them enough, which means they have nothing to lose, and nothing to fight for.

Anachronisms & Other Ways to Make Readers Snicker

A popular post from November 2009

by Annette Lyon

Anachronisms are hysterical in fiction . . . and usually not in the way the author of a piece intended.

An anachronism is something stuck in a place where it doesn't fit in time. A really, really bad one would be giving a caveman a car. That's a bit too obvious, something no writer would ever accidentally do, but writers put in anachronisms all the time in more subtle ways.

While this is relevant to me as a historical writer, the overall concept is crucial for all writers to keep in mind, particularly in the revision stage, so read on.

For me, I constantly have to research bits and pieces to make sure that certain vocabulary, hair styles, household items, and so on were in use when I place them into a story.

Could Joe use a match to light a fire in this year? Can Sally eat a "cookie" in that year? Would David have access to envelopes in this location at this time? When did diamond rings become common symbols of engagements?

Those are the kinds of things writers pay attention to in their research. Where writers often lose focus is inadvertently throwing in common expressions that don't work for the time period of the book.

For example, a bad anachronism would be for a character from Shakespeare's time to say, "We're really off track."

The problem? "Off track" came from railroads. And yeah . . . railroads didn't exist in Shakespeare's time, so someone from that period wouldn't know what the phrase means.

So why is this important if you don't write historical fiction? Because this is one more way you can mess things up by imposing your mindset onto your characters.

The writer must always remember how the CHARACTER would really think and feel and relate to his or her world.

Luke Skywalker would never say he's "shell-shocked," even if what he's feeling would apply to our definition of that term. He'd use some other way to describe the feeling, because "shell-shocked" is World War II lingo.

When Lizzy from Pride and Prejudice discovers Darcy's involvement in saving her family's name, she'd never have said that he "stepped up to the plate." That's an American baseball term from the 20th century, for starters, one that didn't exist when the book was written. So granted, Jane Austen couldn't have used it, but someone trying to write a P&P sequel today could, and would really mess it up.

Another phrase I came across in a historical novel recently was, "We should give it a shot." I don't know for sure when that phrase came about, but the novel was set a long time ago, so the sentence jumped out as not belonging. It sounded way too modern for the context. I stopped believing the writer. These kinds of things just don't work.

Another warning: too much colloquial phrasing will date a contemporary book too; avoid anything too dated, even if it's dated as now.

In one book, the characters were from the early 1800s, and one referred to his mother as "pushing his buttons."

Um . . . which buttons would those be? The ones on his shirt? Because, yeah, well, hate to say this, but see, computers and other things with buttons that can be pushed . . . weren't invented when this guy supposedly lived.

What this writer needed was an idiom, term, or phrase from the early 1800s that would give the reader the same feel as "pushing my buttons" does today, but that came from the right period. They also needed something matching the character's personality. Instead, what we got was the writer's voice intruding on the story, the writer's point of view.

Sadly, it was hard to get immersed in the book when the author kept poking their nose into the story. I was painfully aware that they weren't fully into the characters' minds and hearts, let alone fully into the time period.

One of my favorite stories of this kind of revision (for the better!) is in Michele Paige Holmes's newest book, All the Stars in Heaven. She's used this example in a workshop herself when teaching how to get into characters' heads.

She originally wrote a scene where Jay, her hero, listens to the heroine, Sarah, sing a choir solo for the first time. He is blown away by her voice and says it's one of the most amazing things he's ever heard.

The rough draft had him compare her voice to an angel's. But then Michele realized that Jay wouldn't say that kind of thing. He's manly and tough. He wouldn't think in terms of angelic choirs. He loves and plays rock music.

Her final version says that Sarah's performance was the most amazing thing he'd ever heard with the possible exception of Hendrix playing "The Star Spangled Banner."

I love that change. It's true-blue Jay, precisely how he'd think. It's okay that Michele's rough draft had the angelic bit. We all have rough drafts that aren't perfect (that's why they're called rough). And frankly, the original wasn't bad. But the final version was perfect: just how Jay would think and express himself. Michele stepped aside as the author and let him speak.

Be sure that when you do those later passes over your manuscript for revision that you read each scene with an eye out for when you're really in your characters' heads. Is this really how they'd see each situation? Or is it your lens that we're looking through?

Ask yourself: Is there anything that I, as the writer, am putting in that doesn't belong?

Would your character really say it this way, think this particular thought?

Are you expressing your opinion or your characters'? Your world view or theirs?

Worse, did you inadvertently throw in an anachronism?

Another gem I caught recently: "No, way."

In context, it sounded just like a Valley Girl from 1988. The problem? The story was set during the time of pirates.

I closed the book, tempted to walk around the house, flipping my hair, snapping gum, and going, "Like, totally argh, Matey."

Four Character Essentials

A popular post from February 2013

By Josi S. Kilpack

I was recently on a Fiction Writers Panel with Steven Peck and Greg Park. It was interesting that the three of us were there as we have all had unique experiences. Peck is a biology professor, Park is a creative writing teacher. All of us are novelists and write very different things. One of the questions we were asked was what were the most important things about creating characters.

What we pulled out of our collective hat were four things: A flaw, a special ability, a prominent physical feature, and a personal history.

Flaw:
Greg shared a quote I hadn't heard before. I have gone online and tried to find who to credit it to but the best I can get is that it's Angus's Grandpa in the movie Angus. He'd said to Angus that Superman wasn't brave, then explained "He's smart, handsome, even decent. But he's not brave . . . Superman is indestructible, and you can't be brave if you're indestructible" Greg went on to explain that yes there is Kryptonite, but that doesn't affect his courage, just his abilities in very specific circumstances. As I've thought about it I think I figured out his flaw, however. He was different. That's what's hard for him. He is not a mortal, he is in the wrong world and this causes him trouble. And therefore, every character has flaws. Readers want it because they want characters they can relate to, characters who feel real and we know that no one is perfect. Flaws are also fabulous in regard to how they can affect plot. Using your characters imperfections to create tension.

A special ability:
This doesn't mean they have to be a master wizard or an expert archer or genius IQ, but they do need to have something that makes THEM the person to change the 'world.' By world I mean whatever sphere he is battling in the story you are writing. Maybe they are clever, maybe they are small and manage to hide somewhere no one else could, maybe they know that the "rules of haircare are simple and finite." It doesn't have to be better than everyone else, but it needs to set them a part, even if it's just a little bit. When things are dire, they will use this special ability to come out ahead.

A prominent physical feature:
Harry's scar, Ron's red hair, Katniss's beauty, Elle Wood's blonde hair, Scarlett O'hara's good looks. For my character Sadie, it's her hair--which changes in most books--and her non-slim figure. It doesn't mean you choose something different than anyone else's, but just something that helps to solidify the view of the character in the mind of your reader. It keeps your character visual and while it might become essential to your plot--Harry's scar, Quasimodo's deformities--it might just be an element of your story but it should be there.

A personal history:
All three of us agreed that it's history that creates motivation and motivation which creates plot. The Phantom is who he is because of where he came from and the trauma of his childhood. Harry wants to belong in the wizard world more than anything because he's never fit anywhere. Aladdin hides who he is because he's a street urchin and he's used to being discarded because of his class. Knowing where your character came from and how his life has shaped him will make a lot of the plot points fall in to place far more organically if you do it backward; start with motivation and then try to figure out why it's there. Many authors I know create very detailed backgrounds on their characters, most of which will never show up in the story but which is essential for them knowing how this character will shape the story.

I love to hear your favorite character and how all of these four points are reflected within them. Please share!

Close vs. Distant POV

A popular post from March 2010. 

by Annette Lyon

It's come to my attention that in all our posts about point of view, that we've never covered the concept of close third person versus distant third person.

Time to remedy the oversight!

Most contemporary fiction written in third person (he said this; she did that) is written in a pretty close point of view. It's probably what you're used to reading. For that matter, if you look at the Writing on the Wall archives, close third and first person are the two points of view that generally apply.

But what is close third?

To start defining the term, let's first describe distant third person.

Distant Third Person

Point of view, of course, is the lens through which the writer (or the narrator voice) tells the story. For a moment, think of that lens as a movie camera standing back from the action but hanging in the air over a character's head.

The camera captures what the POV character sees, and perhaps what the POV character hears. However, for the most part, the narrative is separate and apart from the character and what he or she is feeling or experiencing. It's objective, not making interpretations.

The camera can certainly show an amazing fight sequence. We won't be privy to the POV character's thoughts, feelings, and so forth about it, but we'll see a great movie in our heads.

It's almost like a journalist reporting the events in vivid detail, sitting perched on that camera.

The camera can get more distant, pulling back to the point that we can't even tell much about the POV character at all, or it can get a bit closer, perhaps letting us in on gestures and other behaviors.

But there's always a barrier; the reader stays outside the POV character's head.

Close Third Person

Just as with distant third, close third has degrees of closeness. A very close (or tight) third person POV will be so entrenched in the POV character's head that the reader knows their every thought, feeling, smell, taste, sound, touch, reaction, facial expression, motivation, and more.

A slightly less tight POV will show emotions and senses, but might not get so tightly ingrained in the character's psyche. Again, it's a matter of degrees. Just how close are you to the character, emotionally, psychologically, and otherwise?

In a sense, all variations of third person are about degrees of closeness, and the same book could have varying degrees.

For example, an opening paragraph of a chapter could be very distant as the reader is introduced to a location, say a snowy mountain scape. Then the "camera" pans closer to the POV character huddled a cave trying to stay warm. The closer we get, the more we know about what that character is thinking, feeling, doing, planning.

Some people argue that if you're going for an extremely tight third person, then you might as well be writing in first person, since that POV is just as tight, if not tighter. (If the character is telling the story, you're totally in their head, right?)

The problem with that argument is that a story in first person has limitations of its own, among them this biggie: your first person POV character must be present in every single scene, and you can never, ever, show anything from anyone else's POV.

That said, first person is a popular POV, and many fantastic books have been written in it. Just be certain it's the right one for your story before you commit to it. (Rewriting a book with a new POV is as big a task as writing an entirely new book. Trust me on this one; been there, done that.)

Ask yourself whether your book would be stronger if you could show a scene from another POV, such as the antagonist's, a parent's, or a friend's.

If so, opt for a tight third instead of first. That way, you get most of the benefits of first person (you're right in their head) without the restrictions.

Another caveat:

Don't cheat with first person. Readers will be seriously annoyed if something the POV character knows isn't revealed to them as well. After all, they're in the POV character's head, so they should know everything that character does.

Some rules of thumb with point of view:

• Don't have too many POV characters per book. A common number is between two and five. Some genres lean toward fewer POVs (such as romance), while others can handle more (such as epic fantasy). Know your genre and its expectations. Avoid too many if you can, simply because keeping track of them and readjusting to a new POV can be taxing on the reader.
• Maintain ONE point of view per scene. Don't be tightly in Jane's head and then flip to a John's head (tight or otherwise) mid-scene. That's disorienting and unnerving to the reader, who is trying to keep track of who is thinking and feeling what, and exactly which lens to interpret the story through.
• Separate point of view shifts with scene shifts (and visual markers like asterisks) and/or chapter breaks.

Losing My Grip on Reality

A popular post from September 2010

by Annette Lyon

***

It's happened every time. You'd think I'd get used to it.

But somehow I get the same weak-knee, punched-in-the gut, light-headed feeling every time.

I stare. I almost cry. And then I have to stop myself from looking around just in case one of my characters happens to be lurking around in spirit form. Sometimes I'm tempted to grab someone near me, point, and say, "Did you know that right over there, so-and-so stood and did such-and such?"

And of course, if I really did that, I'd sound like a total crazy person, because "so-and-so" never did exist, and never did "such-and-such."

What happened?

I was at the Garden Restaurant at the top of the Joseph Smith Memorial Building in Salt Lake City. It has the most marvelous view of the top of the Salt Lake Temple.

I knew this. I've been there before. But the last time was a good decade or so ago.

BEFORE I wrote a book about the temple. With an epilogue that takes place on the day of the capstone celebration. The end of the epilogue is at the top of the spires, exactly what I was looking out at.

During that time, while the scaffolding was still in place, they sold tickets to the public to climb up and view the city from the top of the the temple. (Can you imagine what a sight that would have been?)

That night in 1892, after the capstone celebration, shortly after Angel Moroni was set into place, I have my characters at the top of the temple. (I'm not going to tell you who they are or what had transpired; you'll just have to read the story. Let's just say that I'm already getting a bit emotional telling you this much. Man, I love my characters . . .)

So there I was at the restaurant staring out at the spires. I nearly snagged a lady standing next to me. "Over there, see?" I wanted to say. "That's exactly where they were standing with their families, looking out over the valley."

Instead, I gazed out, felt a fluttery feeling in my stomach, blinked back tears, and tried to get a grip on reality.
They're not real, I reminded myself.

But the same thing happened the first time I drove into Logan after House on the Hill was released (I swear I nearly saw Abe and Lizzy running across Main Street toward the Tabernacle) and again when I visited the St. George Temple after At the Journey's End came out (I almost pointed out to my daughter where Clara and Miriam were dropped off on the wagon and she first walked into the temple).

What is my problem?!

I guess what it boils down to is that I love the landmarks I write about. I feel immersed in the history. And I completely fall in love with my characters. They feel real to me.

And when all is said and done, I hope they become as vividly real to my readers, too.