Four Tips For Writing Flash Fiction, And Why You Should!

Once upon a time, I couldn’t write a 2,000 word piece of fiction if my life depended on it. 100,000 words, sure. 50,000 words, fine. 10,000 words, okay. 2,000? Ha! Nope. 

Now I can. 

What changed? One thing: I’d started to write flash fiction. 

I hadn’t thought much about this until a few days ago when a reader left a comment on Short Story Structures: Several Ways Of Structuring Short Fiction. Sean mentioned he’d had a similar problem and overcome it through writing flash fiction, stories told in fewer than 1,000 words.

So, today, I’d like to write about flash fiction—what it is and how to get started writing it. (For more on flash fiction and what it is, see: Five Reasons To Write Flash Fiction.)

1. Only write part of the larger story.

Full-length stories have a certain shape. There’s a beginning, a middle and an end. In the beginning, the protagonist takes up a quest. In the middle, the protagonist enters the special (and strange) world of the adventure. At the end, the protagonist takes the fight to the enemy, finally overcoming the obstacles to attaining her goal. Or not.

One cannot do all this in 1,000 words or less. The trick is to pick just one part of the larger story to explore. 

For example, one could begin in the middle, before the protagonist’s confrontation with the antagonist and write about their epic battle. Or one could begin at the end, at the climax, and write about how the protagonist defeats the antagonist (or was trounced by them, it’s up to you and the kind of story you’re writing). OR you could take just one event from the beginning—perhaps the Call to Adventure—and focus on that. 

When the protagonist receives her Call to Adventure she often demurs and has to be cajoled. Something has to happen to change her mind. Perhaps a mentor will talk with her, perhaps the protagonist will be given something (in fairy tales this is often a magical item) that can help them on the journey, or perhaps the antagonist will hurt someone the protagonist cares about (think Star Wars) in a misguided effort to intimidate the protagonist. 

Those are just examples. You can pick any part of the protagonist’s journey and spin it into a (very) short story.

2. Use only one or two principle characters.

 In my flash fiction I usually only use two principle characters, a protagonist and antagonist. Other characters may be mentioned or play small parts, but I’ve found there really isn’t enough space to develop more than two characters. (But that could just be me. Experiment!)

3. End in the middle.

David Gaffney has put together a terrific article on the subject of writing flash fiction over at theguardian.com. It’s entitled “Stories in your pocket: how to write flash fiction.” Gaffney urges writers not to put the end of the story at ... well, the end of the story! He writes:

“[...] place the denouement in the middle of the story, allowing us time, as the rest of the text spins out, to consider the situation along with the narrator, and ruminate on the decisions his characters have taken.”

That sounds fun, I’m going to try that the next time I write a piece of very short fiction.

4. End with a twist.

David Gaffney doesn’t say this—in fact, it would seem to go against what he says—but I like flash fiction that ends with a twist. It’s difficult to do well, though.

I’ve shared this story before, but I love it and it’s a terrific example of a super-short tale with a killer twist. The story is called "Bad Dreams":

‘Daddy, I had a bad dream.’

You blink your eyes and pull up on your elbows. Your clock glows red in the darkness—it’s 3:23. ‘Do you want to climb into bed and tell me about it?’

‘No, Daddy.’

The oddness of the situation wakes you up more fully. You can barely make out your daughter’s pale form in the darkness of your room. ‘Why not, sweetie?’

‘Because in my dream, when I told you about the dream, the thing wearing Mommy’s skin sat up.’

For a moment, you feel paralyzed; you can’t take your eyes off of your daughter. The covers behind you begin to shift.

I love that ending!

So, what are you waiting for? The next time you’re stuck in a lineup or in a bus or taxi, whip out your writer’s pad and get started on a lightening fast bit of fiction. What would happen if ...

That’s it!

If you’d like to practice writing flash fiction, I publish a writing prompt every weekday. A number of people who are far more creative than I am poke their head in and occasionally contribute. It’s an open group, so if the mood takes you feel free to come on by.

Another great place to practice the art and craft of writing short is Chuck Wendig’s blog. Every Friday he publishes a writing prompt. You post your work on your own web-estate and drop a link to your work in a comment. (Note: Due to his enthusiastic and creative use of decidedly adult language, Wendig’s website is NSFW.) Here’s an example: Flash Fiction Challenge: Superheroes Plus.

Photo credit: "One of these Things is not like the others." by JD Hancock under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0.

How To Give Your Character Meaningful Flaws

Let’s talk about blind spots.

We’re often told that protagonists need to be likable but it’s just as important that they have flaws.

I’ve just finished reading “Falling Angel” by William Hjortsberg. In that book the protagonist loses everything, even his identity. Which is a tragedy. He was courageous, resourceful and generally likable. It’s easy for the reader to identify with him, and if this was true for the reader I imagine it was true for the writer as well. But Hjortsberg resisted the impulse to coddle his protagonist and the book was better for it. 

That said, Hjortsberg didn’t give his protagonist, Harry Angel, just any flaws, he gave him flaws that seemed to grow organically from the core of his character. Giving a character blind spots is one way of achieving this.

What are blind spots?

A blind spot is a flaw, a weakness. For example, I have a friend who often complains about not being able to lose five pounds while she’s eating a bag of crunchy, vinegary finger-licking-good potato chips.

What creates a blind spot?

Desires create blind spots. Specifically, desires which fly in the face of strongly held beliefs either about ourselves or the world around us.

In my example, above, the desire being indulged was of the potato-chip-eating variety and the strongly held belief was that my friend was doing everything she could to try and lose weight. 

Taking this to a more serious level, a person might have a strong desire to learn the truth about a particular situation but not be able to get past the strongly held belief that their friend (or sibling, or mother, or father) is a good person and would, therefore, never do certain things.

Denial and unconscious defense mechanisms

I would, of course, never be this bold (or foolhardy!) but were I to call my friend on her chip-eating-duplicity and say, “You’d lose five pounds if you stopped eating potato chips,” what do you think her immediate reaction would be?

Yep, anger. Then she would try to justify her behavior. She would try and explain how her behavior really did, despite appearances to the contrary, fit with her desire to lose weight. 

Most folks, when it’s made clear to them that one or more of their behaviors flies in the face of a real or stated desire will attempt to justify it rather than change. “Oh this package of potato chips is so small and it’s only one bag. It’s not like I have one every day.” Or, “You’re right! This will be my last one, I’ll stop tomorrow.”

How to make bad things happen to good characters

Writers have to be the bad guy. They have to be mean to their characters. (Don’t Flinch)

As I mentioned at the beginning of this article, one of the ways we can lead our characters to ruin is by giving them blind spots.

The ones I’ve talked about so far are relatively mild. To show you the kind of blind spots that can make for great literature let’s take another look at “Falling Angel.” Here the protagonist, Harry Angel, has a core belief, one you and I likely share: I know who I am. Harry couldn’t have been more wrong. 

When Harry Angel finally realizes he has been blind, that he has believed a lie, it is far too late for him to save either himself or the girl he has come to love.

Creating Character Flaws: How to Use Your Character’s strengths against them

I’d never thought much about blind spots and how they can be used to create tragedy until I sat in on a workshop Bob Mayer taught at the Surrey International Writing Conference. Mayer gave some wickedly useful examples of how your character’s strengths can suggest desires which can, in turn, be used to create character flaws.

An Example: Loyalty

Loyalty is an excellent trait for a protagonist to have. Since we, as humans, tend to believe that other people are like us—that they have the same desires and strengths and weaknesses we ourselves do—people who are loyal tend to believe that other people, especially those they consider their friends, are loyal as well. (Also at work here is the principle that it’s much easier for a person to believe a statement they want to be true than it is for one they want to be false.)

Underlying need/drive/desire:

- To trust others and to be trusted in return.

Temptation:

To see the world as you would like to see it, not as it actually is. This can lead to (at least) two weaknesses:

- Gullible. The need to trust others can make a hero gullible. They want to trust others even if, deep down, they know they shouldn’t.

- Unreasonable skepticism. Often when a person has trusted someone when they shouldn’t have—and been harmed because of it—they can swing to the other end of the spectrum and not trust anyone, even someone who has proven themselves trustworthy.

Blind Spot:

- Here is the loyal character’s blind spot (or at least one of them): Even though he’s let me down in the past, this time will be different.

Another Example: Competitiveness

Let’s say a character is naturally competitive. That can be a very good thing.

Underlying need/drive/desire:

- To achieve, to conquer.

Temptation:

- To achieve and to conquer no matter the cost, no matter who it destroys in the process.

Blind Spot:

- My drive to achieve isn’t hurting anyone.

In conclusion

If you ever have a chance I highly recommend Bob Mayer’s writing workshops. I haven’t read it (I’m still snailing my way through Robert McKee’s excellent book, “Story”) but his book The Novel Writer’s Toolkit comes highly recommended.

What blind spots have you given your characters?

Photo credit: "Cat's shadow" by Marina del Castell under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0.

Kick Your Writing Up A Notch: Beware Sense Verbs

Here's the rule:

"Eliminate “protagonist + sense verb” phrases that make us watch your protagonist have an internal experience, and instead simply dramatize the internal experience."

That doesn't come from me, that's from the (terrific!) article A Straightforward Technique to Make Your Writing More Immediate and Effective by Cheryl B. Klein over at Brooklyn Arden. (Thanks to +Elizabeth S. Craig for sharing the link.)

What I love even more than the advice is that the author gives examples that do a fine job of illustrating her point. For example:

A) Katherine heard a man shout, "LORD GIVE ME PATIENCE!" and spun to see what was happening. She saw that a clown was dancing merrily across the parking lot, a small dog in a red ruff nipping at its heels.

B) "LORD GIVE ME PATIENCE!" a man shouted behind Katherine. She spun to see what was happening. A clown was dancing merrily across the parking lot, a small dog in a red ruff nipping at its heels.

There's two things here: a person (the protagonist) and a camera. Even if one is writing from the point of view of the protagonist (using either the first or limited third person) one should be the camera. The camera doesn't think or feel or believe or hope, all it does is record what's out there, what's happening. At least, that's how I think of it.

For instance, using Cheryl Klein's examples:

In (A) the reader is placed in Katherine's mind and filters everything through what Katherine hears, thinks, smells, etc.

In (B) the reader takes up the perspective of the camera. Yes, it's positioned inside Katherine's head, but it sees the world rather than Katherine's sensory impressions.

These words can be a tip off that you're talking about what a character senses rather than about the the thing(s) the character is sensing:

think

remember

wonder

imagine

realize

understand

know

That list, from Cheryl's article, can be extended by adding any sense term: taste, believe, etc.

As Cheryl points out, sometimes we do want to observe our characters, we want to talk about what they see and feel and believe rather than the world in which they see and feel and believe it.

Cheryl B. Klein has written a great article on how to make one's writing clearer, I encourage you all to read it for yourself; it's short, clear and has good examples.

I'll leave you with something I picked up from reading Stephen King's On Writing, though perhaps he never says it quite like this: clarity is king. We need to make adjustments if we want to talk about the world but instead talk about how our characters see the world.

(Being hung up on one's character's inner states is very different from showing who your character is by the unique way they see the world; what they notice. For instance, a firebug might notice fire the way a designer would notice the line of a coat. But this kind of subtle characterization can be done without calling attention to a character's thoughts.)

Good writing!

Photo credit: "Grace and... Disgrace" by Zach Dischner under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0.

A Writer's Voice: What It Is And How To Develop Yours

A few days ago Elizabeth Craig--a writer I admire not only for her prose but also for her writing on writing--posted an article, Telling a Story in Our Own Voice, about how to develop your voice. That's what I'd like to talk about today.

First of all, what the heck is a writer's voice? What do we mean when we use that term?

What is a writer's voice?

One of the best, and most profane, discussions of a writer's voice comes from Chuck Wendig's blog, Terribleminds (adult language -->): 25 Things Writers Should Know About Finding Their Voice. Interestingly, Chuck Wendig's writing is a wonderful demonstration of voice in action.

No one writes like Chuck Wendig.

Why? He has a unique voice. I know that "unique" doesn't admit of qualification--something is unique or it isn't--but I really want to say that Chuck is amazingly, extravagantly, unique. And that's part of his voice, part of his (if I may put it like this) identity as a writer.

Once someone tried to fake a blurb from Chuck Wendig. It didn't go over. Anyone who read Chuck Wendig could tell he hadn't written it. Why? It didn't have his voice. Similarly, that's how Stephen King was identified with Richard Bachman. They had the same voice and a writer's voice is unique.

This is how Chuck Wendig puts it in his blog post 25 Things:

"A writer’s voice is an incomprehensible and largely indefinable combo-pack of — well, of just about anything. Style, dialogue, tropes, themes, genres, sub-genres, ideas, characters, stereotypes, archetypes, word choice, grammatical violations, and so forth. Anybody who tells you that David Foster Wallace’s voice does not include his obsession with footnotes should be shoved into a cannon and fired into the mouth of a great white shark. Voice is not one thing. It is, in fact, the summation of a writer."

How Does A Writer Find Her Voice?

I know I've been talking a lot about Chuck Wendig, but I want to share one last thing from him since he gives one of the best pieces of advice on how to find one's voice I've read:

“Every author decides to go on a grand adventure one day, and that grand adventure is to find her voice. She leaves the comfort of her own wordsmithy and she traipses through many fictional worlds written by many writers and along the way she pokes through their writings to see if her voice is in there somewhere. She takes what she reads and she mimics their voices, taking little pieces of other authors with her in her mind and on the page.

Is her voice cynical? Optimistic? Short and curt, or long and breezy? She doesn’t know and so she reads and she writes and she lives life in an effort to find out.

This adventure takes as long as it takes, but one day the author tires of it and she comes home, empty-handed, still uncertain what her voice looks like or sounds like.

And there, at home, she discovers her voice is waiting. In fact, it’s been there all along.

Your voice is how you write when you’re not trying to find your voice. Your voice is the way you write, the way you talk. Your voice is who you are, what you believe, what themes you knowingly and unknowingly embrace.

Your voice is you. Search for it and you won’t find it. Stop looking and it’ll find you.”

That's from The Grand Adventure To Find Your Voice.

I think, though, that there are some things you can do, writing exercises, that can help one find their voice and that's what I'd like to talk about in this section.

Here are a few things you can do to help develop your voice:

1. Write

Yes, I know, that one is obvious.

Or is it?

Sometimes I think we feel there's no point in writing until we've found our voice; what would be the point? But writing, in the end, and writing a lot, is the only way to find the bloody thing.

I know, it can seem like a catch 22 but it's really not. There are many ways to practice writing, many ways to fill up your one million words.

- Blog
- Write short stories (I love short stories because they give you the thrill, the feel, the high, of finishing a story, of holding it in your sweaty sleep-deprived hands and knowing you did that.)
- Blog
- Write reviews
- Write letters to the editor
- Blog
- Write a book or a novella
- Write guest blogs

You get the idea.

2. Mimic other writers

Sounds crazy, I know. How could mimicking the voice of other writers help you find your own?

But one thing musicians do, when they're learning, is play the songs of other musicians over and over until they get a feel for the song. Or so I'm told.

Here's an exercise:

Day One

a. Pick a book. It should be written by someone whose writing you admire, and it should be one you've already read.

b. From the book you've chosen, select a scene. It should be a scene you thought was especially well written, a scene that made your heart twinge and you to think: I want to write like that. If it's a long scene, just select two or three pages from it.

c. Write out those two or three pages. If you normally write your first draft longhand, then write this out longhand, if you normally type your first draft, then type the pages.

Note: This is only for your edification so don't worry about copying out the pages. You can cross them out or delete them when you're finished. The important thing is the act of writing them out. As I wrote in another article (3 Steps To Better Prose), copying out the words gives you a feel for the writer's timing, their rhythm.

d. Write a few paragraphs that mimic the style of the writing you've just copied. For example, if the scene you wrote out was a love scene then write a love scene. If the scene took place on a boat crossing the Atlantic Ocean then yours should too. The idea is to write the scene again, mimicking the authors style.

Day Two

e. The next day, select another scene from the book you chose and repeat steps (b), (c) and (d), above.

Day Three

f. The next day, select another scene from the book you chose and repeat steps (b), (c) and (d), above. (No, this isn't a stutter.)

Day Four

g. Pick a new book and repeat the process from (a), above.

Repeat the above for about three months and you will have not only gone a step further in finding your own voice but you will have improved your prose in the process!

3. Use an exemplar

Elizabeth Spann Craig writes:

"One tip that I found:  once you’ve written a passage of your book in the voice you’re shooting for, print that portion out and keep it near you.  When you feel you’re sounding stilted again, reread the passage that you wrote. It can help to reorient you. (Telling a Story in Our Own Voice)"

4. Study your past work

In her article, Telling a Story in Our Own Voice, Elizabeth Craig gave links to other (truly wonderful) articles on finding your voice, one of which is Janice Hardy's post Can You Hear Me Now? Developing Your Voice.

Janice Hardy writes:

"If you're uncertain about your own voice, try studying your work, past and present. Look for common elements, pieces that feel like you, things you like about how you put together words. Study your word choice, how you arrange paragraphs, how you control pacing and flow. Find the parts that are you, and then develop those aspects."

By the way, both Janice Hardy (@janice_hardy) and Elizabeth Craig (@elizabethscraig) have wonderful twitter feeds. They regularly tweet links to helpful writing resources.

I'd like to leave you with two pieces of advice from Janice Hardy (this is still from her article, Can You Hear Me Now?):

Don't edit your voice out
We do terrible things to sentences to make them "correct." Writing isn't about grammatically correct sentences or having every period in exactly the same place. Sentence fragments, not using whom vs who properly, bad grammar -- all of these things bring our work to life. While you can't ignore the rules all the time, breaking them to achieve an effect is acceptable.

Don't edit out the terms you naturally use
Regions have a voice all their own. If I say someone has a Southern accent, you know what I mean. They're from New Jersey? You hear it. If you have ways of saying things and those ways fit with your characters, use them.  

That's all for now, good writing!

Photo credit: "..." by seyed mostafa zamani under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0.

What Do Aaron Sorkin, Stealing, And Advice About Writing Have In Common?

"Good writers borrow from other writers. Great writers steal from them outright," Aaron Sorkin.

What do Aaron Sorkin, stealing, and advice about writing have in common?

Quite a bit, as it turns out.

Yesterday Gwen sent me a clip of Aaron Sorkin's cameo appearance on 30 Rock where he pokes fun at himself, at his quirks.

After I watched the clip I thought, 'Huh, I wonder if Aaron Sorkin has written anything about the art of writing?' And, guess what? He has!

In How to Write an Aaron Sorkin Script, by Aaron Sorkin Mr. Sorkin gives advice about how to introduce crucial (but possibly boring) information and make it all seem interesting and clever rather than contrived and boring.

BUT, before I get to that, I'd like to talk about stealing.

And by "stealing" I don't mean plagiarism—which is bad, very bad—but the sort of outright stealing Aaron Sorkin was talking about in the quote at the beginning of this article.

In her post Develop Your Narrative Voice By Stealing From Bestselling Authors, Elise Abram teaches writers how to steal. But first, a caveat. Elise writes:

How I found my voice was by “stealing” from other writers, trying on different points of view, tones and styles until I found one that was my own.

Note: Modelling, which is what I mean by “stealing”, is very different from plagiarism. Plagiarism is defined as using or closely imitating the language and thoughts of another author without authorization, and the representation of that author’s work as one’s own.

So, plagiarism is nasty while 'creative stealing' or modelling, is perfectly fine.

The other day someone compared modelling to the way a musician learns to play an instrument. They play a song someone else wrote over and over again until they get it right, then move on to another song. This is the writer's version of that.

I'll leave you to read Elise's wonderful article, but I would like to share her #2 way of stealing.

Steal the setting

Elise writes:

[A] way you can model is to use a setting from popular literature.

As you read these passages, see if you can spot the similarities:

“A large cask of wine had been dropped and broken, in the street…the cask had tumbled out…the hoops had burst, and it lay on the stones just outside the door of the wine-shop, shattered like a walnut-shell…The rough, irregular stones of the street, pointing every way, and designed, one might have thought, expressly to lame all living creatures that approached them …Some men kneeled down, made scoops of their two hands joined, and sipped…Others, men and women, dipped in the puddles with little mugs of mutilated earthenware, or even with handkerchiefs from women’s heads.”

And…

“The driver had been coming out of the turn on the inside when the wagon had tilted and gone over. As a result, the kegs had sprayed all the way across the road. Many of them were smashed, and the road was a quagmire for twenty feet. One horse…lay in the ditch, a shattered chunk of barrel-stave protruding from its ear…Wandering around the scene of the accident were perhaps a dozen people. They walked slowly, often bending over to scoop ale two-handed from a hoofprint or to dip a handkerchief or a torn-off piece of singlet into another puddle. Most of them were staggering. Voices raised in laughter and in quarrelsome shouts.”

Did you catch the comparisons?

.  .  .  .

The first passage is from a scene in Dickens’ A Tale of Two Cities, the second from Stephen King and Peter Straub’s The Talisman. In the modelling of this passage, King and Straub use Dickens’ setting, making it their own by serving it up with the dark and graphic horror their readers know and love.

Aaron Sorkin on How To Steal From Aaron Sorkin

Which brings us back to Aaron Sorkin's article in which he, basically, invites us to 'steal' one of his tricks, which is how to give an information dump--or a 'fact-dump' as he calls it--but make it witty and interesting. He writes:

A song in a musical works best when a character has to sing—when words won't do the trick anymore. The same idea applies to a long speech in a play or a movie or on television. You want to force the character out of a conversational pattern. In the pilot of The Newsroom, a new series for HBO, TV news anchor Will McAvoy (Jeff Daniels) emotionally checked out years ago, and now he's sitting on a college panel, hearing the same shouting match between right and left he's been hearing forever, and the arguments have become noise. A student asks what makes America the world's greatest country, and Will dodges the question with glib answers. But the moderator keeps needling him until...snap.

And then comes a fact-dump/information dump, but it works and it's interesting.

In his article Aaron Sorkin demonstrates what he means by giving a short scene with commentary both about the effect he wants his words to create in the audience and how he creates that effect. It reminds me of a magician giving away one of his tricks. A wonderful read.

Who is your favorite author to model? Is there anyone you're currently modelling?

Other articles you might like:

- 4 Ways Outlining Can Give A Writer Confidence
- 4 Things To Keep In Mind When Choosing A Title For Your Book
- Beware Damnation Books

Photo credit: "Burglar Alarm Box" by taberandrew by Creative Commons Attribution 2.0.

6 Ways To Write Every Day

How To Sell More Stories: Write More!

What is the single biggest cause of writers not selling their work?

Not writing!

It sounds silly, but think about it for a moment and you'll agree.

What do writers need to write?

They need time.

Okay, yes, maybe I have turned into Ms. Obvious.

I've started making the time from waking till 9:00 am sacrosanct and it's amazing how much more writing I've been doing.

Instead of procrastinating writing to blog I procrastinate blogging to write!

Rob D. Young's 6 Strategies To Make Your Writing Schedule Sacred

It was with great glee I read The Write Time: 6 Strategies to Make Your Writing Schedule Sacred by Rob D. Young. Here are some of the strategies Rob developed to make sure his writing time remained sacred:

1. Make your writing time legitimate.

Writing isn't optional.

It's easy to think of writing as less important than cleaning the house, making dinner, spending quality time with friends.

I'm not suggesting these things aren't important, they are, but as Rob points out "tasks tend to expand to fill the time available for them."

Even if you're not planning on making your living from writing, writing is part of you, and writing gives your creative muse a workout--and you know the saying: Use it or lose it. Rob writes:

Your work matters, so stop treating it as "fake." Schedule it in the same way you schedule appointments and work tasks.

2. Invest in your writing ritual.

Ritualize your writing. How? Create rhythms.

Here's mine: I get up, put on the kettle, get out my writing journal--a book which only includes my writing and my notes on my writing, no daily reminders, no to-do lists--and I sit and write for about an hour and a half. After that I launch my day, read my email, research my blog posts and so on.

Later in the day when I'm not quite as fresh creatively I edit my work and do research. (By the way, I never edit the work I've just done--that would be madness, madness I say!--I work on a completely different manuscript.) As part of my work editing (and it is work) I flag passages that need to be re-written but I'll do the actual re-writing in the morning when I'm fresh.

One thing I don't do is look at my email before I write, not even one tiny teensy-tweensy glance, because every time I do I end up blowing through my writing time. It's always, "Oh, just one more thing." Uh huh. And pigs fly.

As Rob mentions, doing the same thing every single day helps to gently wake your muse and get her ready to grace you with her creative magic. Here's his advice:

What I encourage is developing your own rituals that involve things that you already enjoy. From there, a simple investment in your rituals can have a profound impact. It doesn't matter that no one actually needs 16 different flavors of tea (my current total): Buying new flavors is how I get myself excited about the ritual surrounding my writing. Likewise, I regularly invest in instrumental soundtracks (most recently work by Lindsey Stirling) because it makes me excited to get going. 

Any excuse to buy more tea is wonderful!

3. Unplug your distractions.

During the time you've set aside to write a first draft do not for any reason go on the internet. (That is, if you're anything at all like me!) Even to research something. You can do the research later during your editing time.

Research is important but it will often kill the momentum you've built up or, if there is no momentum, it will offer you something else to do besides writing.

But don't stop with the internet, turn off your phone too.

If you're one of those lucky writers who have an office don't be shy about putting a sign on the door telling folks it's your writing time and to please not disturb you.

4. Use peer pressure.

This is part of the beauty of #NaNoWriMo. In his article Rob looks at how writers can use peer pressure all year long to keep our butts firmly planted.

a. Use your website/blog

Put a widget on your site that tells your community/tribe both what you're working on (if you want to be super secret about the content you can label it 'Project A') and how far along you are.

My favorite words-written widget is over at the NaNoWriMo site: NaNoWriMo Word Meter.

b. Use writing groups

Get together with a group of similar minded writers. Rob suggests doing write-ins where you get together, unplug from the world, get maximally caffeinated, and write.

You can do something similar virtually by tweeting an appropriate hash tag (your group could even make one up) to your friends and followers and have them join you. You could even turn this into a game to see who can write the longest.

The suspicious among you--yes mystery writers, I'm looking at you--could use Google Hangouts so everyone involved can see that everyone in the group is indeed writing.

Rob suggests using Word Wars. Instead of seeing who can write the longest, see who can write the most words in a given period of time. Rob writes:

By getting connected with a community of writers that you report to regularly, who have an expectation that you will produce, and who you can "compete" with, you're far more likely to do the actual work. This sort of peer pressure is a way to adopt the role of writer in social settings that reaffirm this portion of your identity.

5. Create a space that's just for writing.

Rob writes:

I have an ergonomic keyboard, a chair with extra lumbar support, audiophilic speakers, a clean desk, and organized drawers. My walls have humorous posters about commonly misspelled words, how to use semicolons, and when to use i.e. or e.g. in a sentence. I do this because I want to make myself comfortable, but also because I want to remind myself that writing is what this space is for.

I have all those things too but, fact is, I do most of my writing (at least, for my first draft) sitting on my couch using a pen and a journal.

When I edit I either sit on my couch or at a kitchen table and use my uber wonderful Mac laptop. 

I do, occasionally, use my convenient and ergonomically wonderful keyboard in my convenient, expensive, and seldom used office, but I prefer (when the felines allow) being in the thick of things, not cut off from the life of the house.

That said, I do think it's a marvelous idea for writers to have a space dedicated to writing whether, like Sheldon Cooper, you have a favorite spot on the couch or whether you have something more private.

6. The desire to write.

Having a desire to write doesn't make you a writer--writing makes you a writer--but it makes it more likely that you'll write. 

If you want to be a writer, the sole requirement is that you write. And if you want to write, you have to create an environment and set of habits that make writing feel like the natural thing to do ... [R]eal writing isn't the sort that happens in tidal-wave crashes a few times a year. Real writing is found in the day-in, day-out practice of a craft we can come to love in the same way we love a home, a spouse, or even our own familiar bones.

All links, unless otherwise indicated, are from Rob D. Young's article, 6 Strategies to Make Your Writing Schedule Sacred.

What is your writing ritual? Please share! :-)

Other links you might like:

- An April Fool's Roundup
- How To Write A Great Opening For Your Story
- The New Yorker Rejects Its Own Story: What Slush Pile Rejections Really Mean

Photo credit: "127/365 "In dreams, we enter a world that's entirely our own."" by martinak15 under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0.

8 Ways To Channel The Power Of Your Unconscious Into Your Writing

This morning I read a terrific article by Tim Ferriss about an interview he did with Fred Waitzkin, author of Searching for Bobby Fisher, a book about his son's journey to win the national chess championship.

8 Ways To Channel The Power Of Your Unconscious To Help You Write

Specifically, Tim Ferriss was interested in the tricks and processes Fred Waitzkin has used to help him write fiction. Ferris writes:

[I disagree with labeling Fred Waitzkin's son, Josh, a prodigy] because Josh has a process for mastery, and he’s applied it to many fields, not just chess. As it turns out, he’s not the only one in his family with this skill. His father, Fred Waitzkin, has processes and tricks he uses for writing both non-fiction ... and fiction…

Although there is no cut-and-dried method for summoning the muse, here are various processes the elder Waitzkin has found useful. They all involve ways to access your unconscious.

1. Write down your dreams.

Working on The Dream Merchant with numerous characters and dramatic scenes to bring to life I had to learn how to access my unconscious. This is an important part of my creative process. Let’s start simply. We all dream but some of us cannot recall our dreams in the morning. You can train yourself to remember your dreams. Put a pad on the shelf beside your bed and begin writing the second you open your eyes. Even before you open your eyes reach for the pad. Don’t turn on the light. Start scribbling in the dark. You will remember your dreams if you do this. The way I think of it, and I’m not a psychologist, you’ve created a bridge between your conscious and unconscious.

2. At the end of your writing day leave a small portion of your writing unfinished.

As a novelist I want to travel on this bridge, regularly–in fact, every day I want to cross over. Here is a deep trick that I learned from an interview with Ernest Hemingway: At the end of each writing day I leave unwritten a small portion of what I still had in my mind to compose that day.

[Tim note: Hemingway would routinely leave a sentence half finished, as discussed in A Moveable Feast.]

Then riding home on my bike from my office, at some level my mind is working on the unwritten paragraphs that I might have written but didn’t. I’m working on these paragraphs while I’m chatting with my wife or watching the ball game—but I am making connections that I never imagined. 

3. Always carry something with you to write in.

This can be either a pad of paper or an app on your cell phone. 

Sometimes my thinking is just a vague sense of impressions but other times an idea comes rushing to the surface. I always carry a small pad in my pocket to write it down. I’ve learned that if I don’t write it down, the insight is likely to disappear like many unwritten dreams. Then when I begin writing again the following day, I’ve discovered that the unwritten scene already contains hints and urges about where the narrative might next go–very often there are elements here that I hadn’t consciously thought about before.

4. Treat your unconscious as a collaborator, give it assignments.

When I was writing The Dream Merchant this dalliance with the unconscious felt very natural and I was able to give this hidden part of myself assignments. I would say to myself what does Jim worry about at night in bed? Or how does he tell his wife that he is going to leave her for another woman? Then I would be riding on my bike or watching the game, and the answer would rise to me–this would happen surprisingly often. Although each time it was a little thrilling, this bolt from the blue connection with a shadowy hard working world that we don’t know so much about.

5. Don't give up.

One last point about my unusual dialogue with myself: It takes practice like running or swimming fast miles. When I haven’t written for a month or two I cannot access this part of being and I have to begin training in my fashion. But it gives me confidence to know that I have been there before and will probably be able to get back again.

6. Get energized.

For me, inspiration is primarily energy.

.  .  .  .

I look for energy all over the place. Often just riding my bike along the river for three miles from my house to the office heightens my mood. Then I make a cup of green tea and look at my work from the previous evening. I always read back several pages before I try to write anything new. Moving back through interesting material seems to give me momentum to push ahead…

But what if there is no energy? I read the paper. I switch on sports talk radio. I look at my watch. I pace. I am eyeing the lunch hour. It’s getting closer to lunch. One hour before I meet my friend Jeff for turkey burgers. Forty-five minutes. Now I’m getting nervous. Thirty-five minutes before I have to leave my office! Suddenly I feel an urgency. I CAN’T leave for lunch without writing one good paragraph. I’m sweating, feeling the time pressure… and the words pour out. Sometimes a writer can do more in a fervent half hour than in a dreary eight-hour day. I’ve often played this game with myself.

There are many energy tricks. Sometimes in the afternoon when I’m groggy I wander over to Starbuck’s for a coffee. But it’s not just caffeine. I know all the women who work there. They know me. We chat. I love these talks–okay, innocent flirtations. Sometimes I even get a free latte. When I get back to my office I usually feel fired up.

7. Get friends to help you break through if you're deadlocked.

I have a couple of friends that I rely upon. They are very perceptive about the human heart. I’ll talk quite specifically about what isn’t working in a section of my book. I listen closely to what they think. I’ve done this many times. My wife Bonnie has helped me many times like this.

Here is the curious thing. Often her advice or the idea of a friend isn’t what I end up doing. But listening to the ideas engenders a new idea. The whole point is that you have to get moving. Movement begets movement. You need to get unstuck.

8. Make your characters "true".

When you are trying to create a character he or she must be “true.” Fiction is not making up stuff out of whole cloth. It is always linked to a writer’s experience. Fiction is a wonderful tango between the writer’s experience and his imagination.

To read Tim Ferriss's excellent article, click here: The Alchemy of Writing--More Tips from a Pro.

Other articles you might like:

- 4 Ways To Enchant Others
- The New Yorker Rejects Its Own Story: What Slush Pile Rejections Really Mean
- Writing And The Fear Of Judgement

Photo credit: "The lonely walk" by VinothChandar under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0.

7 Secrets To Writing A Story Your Readers Won't Be Able To Put Down

Chuck Wendig's 7 Secrets Of Withholding (alternately: 7 steps to becoming a literary tease)

Chuck Wendig has written some fine posts on the art and craft of writing, but his latest is my all-time favorite. What he says makes sense and it's doable.

Before I get into that, though, yesterday someone reminded me I should give a warning before I post a link to Chuck Wendig's blog, preferably something in large blinking neon letters saying: Warning! Adult material ahead! So, consider yourself warned. Here's the link to Chuck Wendig's article.

I know my title promised 7 secrets, but there's really only ONE secret and seven ways of implementing it. Ready? Here's the secret:

Be a tease.

I probably gave that up too quickly. (sigh)

Chuck writes that the "power of withholding is key to telling a good story" and goes on to list 7 ways you can withhold from your readers:

1. Withhold description

a. Withholding description helps make reading interactive

You want your readers to do some work. This isn't a lecture, it's a collaboration. What CW says here reminded me of one of Robert Sawyer's talks. This is from my notes:

Prose fiction is a form of interactive media. Lectures are boring, books shouldn't be. Make your stories interactive.

What is our goal? Why do we write? We want to ENTERTAIN readers. You want to engage your reader, you want to bring their cognitive functions to the story. (Robert J. Sawyer: Showing Not Telling)

In other words, your readers don't have to know every single last detail about what a protagonist is wearing, they only need to know the telling ones, the ones that show character.

And if you can convey the information by your character(s) doing something active, so much the better.

b.  Withholding description helps cut out needless information

We don't need to know what everything in a scene looks like down to the minutest detail. When I read this point I thought of something Stephen King said in On Writing:

Look--here's a table covered with a red cloth. On it is a cage the size of a small fish aquarium. In the cage is a white rabbit with a pink nose and pink-rimmed eyes. In its front paws is a carrot-stub upon which it is contentedly munching. On its back, clearly marked in blue ink, is the numeral 8.

Do we see the same thing? We'd have to get together and compare notes to make absolutely sure, but I think we do. ...

[The cage] is described in terms of rough comparison, which is useful only if you and I see the world and measure the things in it with similar eyes. It's easy to become careless when making rough comparisons, but the alternative is a prissy attention to detail that takes all the fun out of writing. What am I going to say, "on the table is a cage three feet, six inches in length, two feet in width, and fourteen inches high"? That's not prose, that's an instruction manual.

So, you heard it from the King of Horror as well: Don't get hung up on a "prissy attention to detail that takes all the fun out of writing" and, I would add, reading.

Don't overwhelm the reader. They don't need every single detail to receive get a clear picture.

2. Withhold Aspects of Character

Don't just withhold aspects of character, hint at them. Hint at possible cruelty, or a priveledged past, or uncharacteristic depths of generosity. Or pain. Or malevolence.

Tease your readers, make them curious. CW writes:

A character with unrevealed secrets or stories interests us: we’re the kids at Christmas morning tearing through a pile of presents hoping to get to the big reveal at the end (a new bike! a BB gun! a Barbie dream home! a Turkish scimitar with which to behead thine enemies!).

3. Withhold Information

By withholding information you create mystery.

Every question mark is a door that the reader wants desperately to walk through — and will do so almost to the point of compulsion, and compulsion is what we want, the compulsion to pick up the book again and again, the audience hungering to get back to the pages of the tale or to read the next issue or see the next episode. Litter your tale with unexplained mysteries big and small. The question will drive them: what does that strange tattoo on the woman’s back mean? Why did the wife kill the husband? Who is the one-eyed man? Who put the bomp in the bop-she-bop?

4. Withhold The Culmination Of A Relationship

Hold off on the big reveal, on letting the reader know if the narrator is going to die at the end of the story (Twilight), or whether one character will finally have their long fought-for revenge, or whether two characters will reconcile.  CW writes:

The audience will continue to tear through pages, hoping to see the hero and the villain have their climactic showdown, hoping to see if the two star-crossed lovers will ever uncross the stars and come together, hoping to see if the sea-king and the mer-girl finally realize that they are father-and-daughter.

5. Withhold Victory

I'm in the middle of plotting a novel and one thing I keep in mind is that things must keep getting more complicated, more dire, for my protagonist.

At the beginning of the story she's presented with a problem, a challenge, and she survives it--kinda, sorta--but her life after that takes a nose dive as the problems keep coming and escalate.

In the beginning she's only worried about saving her own life but, by the end, the lives of everyone she's ever cared about hang in the balance. CW writes:

When complicating the goals of the protagonist, withholding victory and denying her success or an escape or an answering to her own questions is key — the audience is bound up with the protagonist and they want to see her safe and happy and vanquish darkness and find love and learn the truth. But by continuing to dangle the carrot, we see the protagonist urge forward through the story and we see the audience trailing along with her.

6. Withhold Knowledge

This goes both ways. Above, in point 3, we talked about withholding information from your characters, information the reader knows, and how that creates mystery.

But it works the other way as well. We can also let readers know more about something than one of our characters. CW writes:

Withholding information from the characters but then revealing that information to the audience is dramatic irony, and makes the audience feel like they’re “in on the secret,” and further, become eager to know when the damning information they possess will finally catch up to the characters on the page.

7. Withhold What The Audience Wants

You've probably heard the saying, "Give the reader what they want." This is the exact opposite. You want to build-up interest, tension, curiosity. You want to hook your readers and you do that by making them want more. As Chuck Wendig writes,

It’s about build-up. And tension. And hesitation. And uncertainty. And fear. And lust. It’s about a trail of moist little morsels pulling them deeper and deeper into the tangled wood. It’s equal parts baited trap and Stockholm Syndrome. It’s about not giving up what the audience desires most and at the same time making them thank you for the privilege of being denied.

At the climax of your book, that's when the veil is torn down and your readers' curiosity is quenched. AT least, mostly. If you're writing a series, you'll want to leave just a bit of the mystery in place.

What do you think of Chuck Wendig's tips? Do you use the secrets of withholding to increase tension and create a riveting story, one a reader can't put down?

Other articles you might like:

- Review Of Grammarly, Its Strength And Weaknesses
- Joe Konrath Makes $15k A Week Selling His Backlist
- How To Be A More Productive Writer: Use A Voice Recorder

Photo credit: "Amber" by Stewart Black under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0.

How To Write Short Stories

I've been reading How To Write Short Stories for Magazines--and Get Published! by Sophie King. She gives wonderful tips on how to develop characters so I thought I'd share my notes.

Thumbnail sketch of a character

Goal: give each character a unique voice, something that will make that character stand out in a reader's mind.

In a couple of paragraphs we need to communicate how a character
- thinks
- talks
- behaves
- interacts with other characters

First Layer: Behavioral Quirk

In real life you know people you'd describe as a "character", people who you might not like but who you can't stop thinking about.

Make a list of these people and one quirk that stands out in your mind. For instance:

- A woman who looks in the mirror every time she passes one.
- A person who has a strange voice, either too high and squeaky or too deep.
- A person who is always dropping names.
- Someone who is always telling stories, jokes.

Second Layer: Dialogue: Trademark phrase

Have one or more of your characters overuse a figure of speech. For instance, a character who says "know what I mean?" after each sentence.

Third Layer: Characteristic Mood

For instance, one character might be a worrywart, another might be kind to a fault, and so on. (This is also known as a Trait. See: Tags, Traits and Tells.)

For a list of mood words, click here: Mood Words.

Fourth Layer: Helping Characters

For instance, your main character might take her dog everywhere she goes. It could be small and yappy or huge and friendly (or vice versa). This also creates opportunities for conflict with a character who hates animals.

The helping character doesn't have to be a pet, it could be a child or a needy neighbor, or a moody teen, the possibilities are endless

Number Of Characters

Sophie King advises that in a story of 2,000 words or under to try and keep the number of characters to three or four.

Make sure every character is essential to develop the story

Here's an exercise to help determine if a character is essential to the story:
- List all the characters in the story.
- Beside each character list their role in the story.
- If you took this character out of the story what would you lose? If the answer is 'not much' then cut them or combine them with another character.

Pacing

Something significant should happen every three or four paragraphs.

- A change of scene
- A character makes a discovery
- Character talks with someone new

Other articles you might like:

- Fate Core And The Creation Of Magical Worlds
- Roleplaying Games, Writing, And The Creation Of Magical Systems
- Analyzing Story Structure

Photo credit: "رقص گلبرگ" by seyed mostafa zamani under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0.

Analyzing Story Structure

We've all heard the advice that to become a better writer we must first become better readers. I'd like to take this advice seriously.

I want to read and analyze more flash fiction so I can ... well, I think of it almost like pulling back the curtain on a magic trick. When I read a story I'm caught up and transported into the story world. Because of this I usually don't read critically, I'm happy to be whisked away and entertained.

This will be a challenge.

Here are some guidelines, some questions, I've come up to help me analyze narrative. I haven't made any attempt to provide a complete list of questions so if you see something missing please do let me know in the comments.

An Analysis of Narrative

Characterization

- Who is the protagonist? Antagonist? Who are the main characters? What are their names? 
- What do the characters look like physically? What do they wear? What are their quirks, their idiosyncrasies? What tags, traits and tells are associated with each main character?
- What point of view is the story told from?
- Map out the character arc for each main character.
- What are their goals? What object or state-of-affairs do they seek? (For instance, Indiana Jones in Raiders sought the ark.)
- Conflict. What is preventing the character from attaining their goal?
- Who is the antagonist? The protagonist? Is there a helper character? A foil? A mentor?

Story elements

- What is the setting?
- Is there a theme? If so, what is it?
- Is the story mainstream or genre/category? If the latter, which genre? Which sub-genre? (Wikipedia has a list of genres and sub-genres as well as a list of literary genres.)

Plot

- Describe the original world of the protagonist
- What was the inciting incident/call to adventure?
- Describe the new situation/special world.
- How is the protagonist tested?
- Is there a point of no return to mark the halfway point?
- How were the stakes raised in the second half of the story?
- What was the major setback (also sometimes called the 'dark night of the soul') toward the end of the story?
- Resolution. Was the main arc completed?

Note:

- When listing the facts of the story take note of who the information came from. You may find out later they were lying or, for whatever reason, it wasn't accurate.

Comments

These questions are intended to be suggestions only. Not every story has the same structure, nor should it. For myself, my goal is to simply pay closer attention to how the stories I read are constructed so I can continue to improve my own writing.

What questions do you ask when reading? What elements of story structure do you pay special attention to?

Other articles you might like:

- The Trouble With Adverbs
- 8 Tips For Finding The Motivation To Write
- Describing Character Reactions And Emotions: She Smiled, He Frowned

Photo credit: "shachihoko" by EmreAyar under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0.

The Trouble With Adverbs

I believe the road to hell is paved with adverbs ....
- Stephen King, On Writing

Why do many writers hate adverbs?

When I first read Stephen King's On Writing I confess I thought his stance toward adverbs a tad harsh. How could a part of speech be categorically condemned? As Jeff Chapman writes:

Adverbs shade the meaning of the words they modify. They are grammatical and an accepted part of speech. I've seen them used by well-respected writers. So, what's behind the injunctions against adverbs? (Why No Adverbs?)

As I investigated the roots of the prejudice against the adverb (I was tempted to write "the lowly adverb" but restrained myself) I came to agree with the admonition to eschew the use of adverbs, or at least to try. This blog post is my attempt at a partial explanation of why we should treat the adverb with caution.

Much of what follows has been drawn from Charlie Jane Anders' article, Seriously, What's So Bad About Adverbs?

1. Adverbs Often Express A Redundant Meaning

Jeff Chapman writes:

Adverbs are redundant when paired with strong verbs. For example: "clenched his teeth tightly"; "moped sadly"; "screamed loudly"; "whispered quietly." In each case, the adverb adds no additional meaning to the verb. There is no other way to mope than with sadness and when someone whispers, they are being quiet.

But what about something like, "He yelled angrily"? It doesn't feel right, but the notion of being angry isn't directly implied by yelling.

For instance, you might yell to tell someone they're in trouble ("Look out! A bus!") or because you're in a nightclub ("I said, 'What would you like to drink?'"). In these cases, though, one shouldn't have to use an adverb because the context should make it clear whether the person yelling was angry.

2. Adverbs Are Sometimes Used To Bolster Weak Verbs

The idea being that the weak verb should be replaced by a strong verb rather than propped up by an adverb.

Before I get into this I feel I should say a few words about what is a strong, as opposed to a weak, verb. I looked this up and, apparently, strong verbs are irregular verbs and weak verbs are ... well, here's a quote:

A weak verb (or regular verb) is one that forms its past participle and past form by adding "-ed" or "-t". (Weak Verbs)

For instance:

Look at the most famous adverb in science-fiction history: Captain Kirk's "To boldly go where no man has gone before." What do you notice? Okay, yes, it's a split infinitive. But look past that. The verb is "go," which doesn't really tell us much in itself.

What would happen if you took the adverb out of that sentence? You get: "To go where no man has gone before." Which sounds bland, and a little apologetic. ("Hey, we're, uh, going, ummm, somewhere that we haven't gone before." "Oh. Are we there yet?" "No.")

From that, you might conclude that the adverb is necessary. But actually, it's more that the verb is weak. "Go" just doesn't give us much, and it definitely doesn't have the swashbuckling feeling Captain Kirk's ringing voiceover demands. So the best bet is to replace it with a stronger verb, like "venture," or "explore." Or how about: "To walk where no man has walked before"? It's evocative and calls to mind men walking on the Moon. (Seriously, What's So Bad About Adverbs?)

I love Star Trek so just let me say that I think, here, the flexibility of the verb was a good thing. After all, we don't want to say, "To fly where no man has flown before," "To dive where no man has dived before," "To walk where no one has walked before," "To run where no one has run before," "To crawl ..." well, you get the idea.

But, point taken. Most of the time weak verbs are insideous. They creep into one's prose and weaken it with clutter. Jeff Champman writes:

Adverbs are used to prop up weak verbs. A better solution is to replace those weak verb/adverb pairings with a stronger verb. For example: replace "frowning angrily" with scowling; "running quickly" with sprinting; "petting softly" with caressing; "moving slowly" with creeping. (Why No Adverbs?)

3. Using Adverbs In Dialogue Attribution

For instance,

"Get out of my house!" she said angrily.

From the dialogue itself it's probably clear the speaker was angry. Yes, it could be that there was a fire spreading through her house and she wanted everyone to evacuate but the context should make the meaning clear.

4. The Adverb And Purple Prose

Charlie Jane Anders gives "He smiled thinly" and "He grinned wolfishly" as examples of adverbs aiding and abetting purple prose.

Of course she's right. Adverbs are likely present in a lot of prose that could be described as purple (that is, excessively ornate prose that does not further the story).

That said, it's interesting only one -ly adverb occurs in Edward Bulwer-Lytton's famous first sentence:

It was a dark and stormy night; the rain fell in torrents — except at occasional intervals, when it was checked by a violent gust of wind which swept up the streets (for it is in London that our scene lies), rattling along the housetops, and fiercely agitating the scanty flame of the lamps that struggled against the darkness. (Purple prose, Wikipedia)

Are Adverbs Irredeemable?

Charlie Jane Anders concludes:

But adverbs aren't necessarily all bad, and they can spruce up your writing if you use them judiciously. Here's a test you should apply before using an adverb.

1) Does it change the word it modifies? Does it make the verb or adjective mean something drastically different?

2) Does it convey some vital piece of information in a way that's better or more evocative than real description or a stronger verb by itself?

If the answer to either or both of these things is "Yes," then go ahead and use an adverb. There's nothing wrong with an adverb, if it conveys new information or provides a distinct slant on something.

I couldn't agree more!

Professor Quest has written a wonderful article The Betrayal of F. Scott Fitzgerald's Adverbs in which he talks about Fitzgerald's use of adverbs to, "create internal tensions or to emphasize points-of-view". He writes:

[In The Great Gatsby] People intrude deferentially; their eyes roam speculatively across empty ballrooms. At one point, Gatsby's house is lit like Coney Island at night, every door and window wide open. As Nick turns away, he speaks of the house "blazing gaudily on."

Charlie Jane Anders writes:

For example, "horribly fatal" doesn't tell us anything new. "Hilariously fatal" does. So does "moderately fatal." So does "arguably fatal." I will never quibble with anyone who wants to use phrases like "statistically significant number of maimings." An adverb can signal a certain tongue-in-cheekness by undermining or tweaking the adjective it goes with, like: "the savagely handsome first officer." Or "the obnoxiously sexy co-pilot."

I'll give Jeff Chapman the last word:

So, should you ever use an adverb? They are permissible in a few cases. It's reasonable to employ them in dialogue. People use them when they talk. In other cases, an adverb is adequate to create a mental image and rewriting makes the prose wordy. Consider this example: "The man stood silently at the window" versus "The man stood at the window making no noise." The instance with the adverb is more concise. The rewrite is longer and draws unnecessary attention to the phrase "making no noise".

It is very easy to fall into the adverb traps. The good news is that they are easy to find. Search your manuscript for "ly" and consider each instance. You will be surprised how much richer your writing will be when you eradicate those adverbial weeds from your prose. Happy weeding.

A Disclaimer

None of this adverb hate applies to your first draft. When you write, ignore everyone except your own muse. On your first draft you're birthing a story so it's going to be messy. Use all the adverbs you want. You'll start cleaning things up on your second draft.

Other articles you might like:

- 8 Tips For Finding The Motivation To Write
- Describing Character Reactions And Emotions: She Smiled, He Frowned
- Tags, Traits And Tells (Podcast)

Photo credit: "?" by Bruna Schenkel under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0.

Describing Character Reactions And Emotions: She Smiled, He Frowned

If you're anything like me, you've had the experience of trying to find another way of writing "she smiled" or "he frowned". It can be maddening!

Which is why I was thrilled to discover Janice Hardy wrote a blog post about alternate ways of describing character reactions/emotions. (By the way, if you haven't read Janice's blog, The Other Side Of The Story, I highly recommend it.)

Janice Hardy's article is well worth the read, but here are a few of her tips:

Other Ways Of Expressing A Character's Emotions/Reactions

1. If this is a first draft just write "She smiled"

If you're writing a first draft just write "she smiled" or "he frowned" and move on. You can tidy things up on the second draft. Chances are, a lot is going to change from the first to the second draft, just concentrate on laying the foundation of your story.

2. Express the reaction through synonyms

For instance, instead of writing "She smiled" you could write "She grinned" or "She beamed" or "She laughed". All of those communicate pleasure/happiness.

3. Express the reaction through internalization

Ask yourself: Why is the character smiling? If she realizes a cute guy likes her you might do something like: Sue tried to look at Rob without being obvious. He is kind of cute, she thought.

4. Express the reaction through dialogue

Mary nudged Sue, "Hey! I think the cute guy in the corner was staring at you."

5. Express the reaction  through movement

Janice Hardy suggests, "Her lip twitched," or "her eyes sparkled," rather than "she smiled".

8. Express the emotion through subtext

Here is an example from The Italian Job. John is on the phone with his daughter.

John: I'm sending you something.
Stella: Does it smell nice?
John: No. But it's sparkly.
Stella: Does it come with a receipt?

In other words: Is it stolen?

Janice Hardy has a lot more to say on this topic, and you can read it here: Alternative Ways to Describe Character Reactions
 

Useful Links: How To Write Emotion

I like to do background reading when I write a blog post and, today, I came upon a few articles I didn't use but they're great so I want to share them with you.

How To Describe Emotions - Gives great pointers.
Emotion Thesaurus: Relief - 15 ways to express relief.
List of Human Emotions - What the title says!

"She smiled," is a tricky one. Characters smile a lot so this phrase is easy to overuse. What alternatives have you come up with?

Other articles you might like:

- Tags, Traits And Tells (Podcast)
- Podcasting
- Good Writing: Using The Senses

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Good Writing: Using The Senses

My last post, Dwight V Swain On How To Write A Novel, was an info dump. Sorry about that! Today I'm just focusing on one thing: Making our prose clearer and more powerful.

I loved the way Dwight V. Swain talks about writing and structuring stories. Sure, at its core it's nothing we haven't heard before, but the way he put things together made a light-bulb go off for me. What I want to do today is talk about--in Emeral Lagasse's words--kicking our writing up to the next level.

We're going to look at two things: First, how to use Motivation-Reaction Units to make our writing clearer. Second, we're going to discuss how to make your readers feel. This last point goes, I think, to the very heart of what it is to tell a story: we want to entertain.

The Flow Of Narrative: Motivation-Reaction Units

What do we mean by "motivation-reaction unit"? It's simple. We're talking about cause and effect, stimulus and response. Mr. Swain writes:

Where your character is concerned, when you stick a pin in him he yells, "Ouch!" He doesn't yell "Ouch!" and then you stick in the pin.

Simple, right? But there is something more subtle going on here. Look at this example:

The wind had an icy edge to it. Eddy shivered and dug his hands deeper into his pockets. The wind kept right on chilling his hands so, still shivering, Eddy turned his back to it and headed for the house. Even as he did so, the lights went out.

Eddy stopped short.

Let's unpack Mr. Swain's example.

Motivation: The wind had an icy edge to it.
Reaction: Eddy shivered and dug his hands deeper into his pockets.

Motivation: The wind kept right on chilling his hands ...
Reaction: ... so, still shivering, Eddy turned his back to it and headed for the house.

Motivation: Even as he did so, the lights went out.
Reaction: Eddy stopped short

When I read this it was like a light went off for me. THIS sort of thing is what makes a piece of writing easy to read and understand.

If you're scratching your head wondering what I'm going on about think of it this way. Would it have seemed excessively peculiar if Mr. Swain had written:

Eddy shivered and dug his hands deeper into his pockets. The wind had an icy edge to it.

That seems to work, but it doesn't work as well. Or at least that's how it seems to me.

Help Your Readers Feel

Everyone writes for different reasons, but one reason common to many writers is the wish to entertain. That doesn't mean we have to turn our readers into human-shaped tear factories but it does mean we need to engage their emotions.

The 64 thousand dollar question: How can a writer make his, or her, readers feel things?

Dwight Swain gives four practical tips.

1. Use Action Verbs

Action verbs show something happening. For instance:

He turned
He sat down
He jumped
He whistled

2. Pictorial Nouns

Pictorial nouns are specific. Dwight V. Swain uses this general rule of thumb: The more specific the noun, the better off you are.

For instance (this is based on Mr. Swain's example), if you wrote, "The female sat," you haven't given your reader a lot of information. The subject could be a young girl, a teenager, a middle-aged woman, and so on. 

If you wrote, "A woman sat," you've communicated more information to your reader but the image formed is still vague. However, if you wrote, "An elderly woman with a lined face sat," then you would have given your reader a much clearer idea of what the subject looked like.

The more specific the noun, the more pictorial, and the more it paints a picture in your readers mind.

When your readers have a clear picture of what's going on in the story it's easier to generate narrative drive.

3. Use Sensory Language

Mr. Swain urges us to write in terms of what you can see, hear, smell, taste and touch. For instance:

Sight: bleary, colorless, faded, dim, glance, hazy, indistinct, shadowy, smudged, tarnished.

Sound: Bellow, cackle, grumble, howl, jabber, murmur, rant, screech, squawk, thud.

Touch: Balmy, chilly, dusty, feathery, gooey, hot, icy, moist, oily, prickly.

Taste: Bitter, creamy, gingery, nauseating, piquant, peppery, ripe, rotten, salty, sharp, tangy.

Smell: Acrid, fetid, odor, pungent, putrid, redolent, sweet, musty, waft, moldy.

Here is a list of sensory words (it's a .pdf file).

4. Use An Emotional Clock

I hadn't heard the term "emotional clock" before, but it makes a lot of sense.

Subjective vs Objective Time

Objective time is clock time. It's the time on your watch. Every second is the same.

Subjective time has to do with how each of us perceives time. We live by subjective time, by the excitement and tension of the moment.

Here's Dwight Swain's example: Einstein once said time passes quickly when you're talking to a pretty girl and slowly when you're sitting on a hot stove.

Very true.

We need to write to an emotional clock

So, what does an emotional clock have to do with writing?

Here's the idea:  you measure the amount of copy you put down according to the tension and excitement of what's happening.

For instance, if you're writing about lunch at a greasy spoon you're not going to give that a lot of space. You could probably tell rather than show.

On the other hand, if you're writing about the villain holding a gun on you and his finger going white on the trigger and the knowledge you're going to be blown away in the next minute, you stretch that out. You make the character suffer. How? By writing in terms of motivation and reaction. When you do this you slow down the pace and show. 

(This post has been based on Dwight Swain's Master Writing Teacher CDs, especially the first two.)

Do you have any tips for how to kick one's writing up a notch? Any tips or tricks you'd like to share?

Other articles you might like:

- Dwight V Swain On How To Write A Novel
- Michael Hauge On How To Summarize Your Novel
- Six Things Writers Can Learn From Television

Photo credit: "Harry" by kevin dooley under Creative Commons Attribution 2.0.