Author
12 pound kitty in a 9 pound box
Gravity, I defies it. I def…zzzz
What’s wrong? Laptop, right? I puts my lap on top.
Should’ve popped for the bluetooth!
Of course my legs aren’t stuck! What makes you ask? Go away.
(Originally published on the Wyrdsmiths blog August 2 2008, and original comments may be found there. Reposted and reedited as part of the reblogging project)
So this is the second post thinking through my next class, though it probably comes sequentially before the last. This one may also be a bit less linear.
One of the most important things to remember in the course of structuring a novel is whose story it is and that they must protag. I know this sounds simple and old hat, but it’s easy to lose lock on that at critical moments. And, it really does have some major impacts on the way the story get put together in a structural sense.
As usual, all statements should be considered as suggestions to be discarded if they don’t work for you, and sufficiently good writing can always trump any rule of writing.
Thing One: Where do you start the book? Wherever possible, you should start it with your protagonist, ideally in a way that draws the reader into their story in a sympathetic way, and they should be protagging. Protagging is absolutely key to establishing sympathy and establishing the idea that the character is a mover of events, not a cork on the water.*
Thing One-A: This is true even for multi-protagonist books which, if you want to be successful, will generally have a primary protagonist and secondary protagonists.** I’ve actually been struggling with this in my own WIP, where I have settled on juggling chapter lengths and giving my main focus character about twice as much wordage as my secondary protagonist as one of the means I’m using to keep the primary focus where it needs to be. Which leads to…
Thing Two: Keeping the reader’s attention where you want it. Even in a single POV book, you need to remember whose story it is, and structure the book to keep that story at the center of the narrative. Subplot and secondary plots and resolutions are key elements to crafting a strong well rounded book, but if you don’t watch them carefully and keep the structural necessities of the main narrative in mind, it is easy to let them steal the focus. Especially, if one of the secondary characters is more interesting to write, or you’re in one of the bridging sections where the main narrative is forced to slow down.
For example, I love the divine madman and I have included a number of them in stories and books. They’re generally a joy to write because they get to say really interesting and apparently nonsensical things that you can use to illuminate themes and mysteries or as time bombs that will provide a key to understanding a later scene. It would be very easy for me to give one of my madmen too much screen time or to let them steal the protag ball*** for a scene or two in a way that does not serve the narrative. So, lets talk about that a bit in…
Thing Three: Every scene in a book should serve the story of the central character in some way. If it does not, why is it there? Now, that doesn’t mean the central character has to be in the scene or even mentioned in the scene. You can have thematic scenes, in which case you have to understand how your theme reinforces and relates to the protagonist’s story and the central narrative. Or you might have contrast scenes in which subplot, secondary character plot, villain moments, or counter-theme can be used to throw the main narrative into higher contrast. You might have parallel-structure scenes where the narrative of the world or secondary characters shows a mirror of the main narrative. You might well have some really clever scene written for reasons not mentioned here, but if you do, you should always know how that scene relates to the primary narrative and serves the story you want to tell.
Thing Four: Endings and the protagonist. Wherever possible, the protagonist should be on screen for the end of the plot arc and have a strong roll in any denouement. It’s their story, and not only does the reader want to see them be the one to come up with and implement the solution (see also protagging), but the reader expects to have a sense of rest or closure about the story, an understanding of what happens next with the protagonist they’ve been following and identifying with for ~100,000 words. Again, as always, there are exceptions, most notably the series book where you want to leave your reader with a sense that there is more to come while still giving them a satisfying resolution to the portion of the story arc covered in this book. The last important shot of the story should have the protagonist at the center of the frame.
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*Common alternative starting points can be with the antagonist or some sort of foreshadowing or scene setting moment with parents, mentors, prophets, etc. All of which can work just fine but really ought to be about the protagonist’s struggle. See Thing Three above.
**It’s possible to have a successful and perfectly balanced book with six protagonists who all get equal time, but it’s really hard and I’ve seen a lot more failures than successes.
***The protag ball…hmm. (This is me thinking in real time as I write this.) I’m kind of liking the idea of looking at a novel as a sort of metaphorical Calvinball type game, with control of the ball as a way of modeling who is in control of the scene at a given time. The protagonist can throw the ball to secondary characters, or have it stolen by the antagonist, or whatever, and its part of your job as the author to keep track of the ball and make sure that your protagonist controls the ball most of the time. Then you could do an analysis of the story with the protagonist controlling the ball highlighted in green, the antagonist in red, and various secondary characters each in their own color to give you a quick visual way of telling if your protagonist is protagging enough.****
****And, yes, for anyone in the Twin Cities area who ever might think about taking a class from me, this really is how I teach, complete with verbally footnoted digressions–often further delineated by hand gestures. It may sound like madness, but so far the reviews are pretty decent.
(Originally published on the Wyrdsmiths blog August 25 2008, and original comments may be found there. Reposted and reedited as part of the reblogging project)
I’ve been thinking about teaching at the Loft again, an advanced novelists class on structure and story and I’m going to use the blog to work through some of my ideas on the subject. Today’s post focuses on first chapters and book openings. I’m going to try to formulate some general principals on what I think a first chapter needs to accomplish and some ways to look at how to do that. As always, sufficiently good writing will trump any general principal.
2) Set up the central problem or conflict of the story. I generally try to put a “problem statement”** of some sort into the opening three pages, and if I can’t do that I make very sure to get it in by the end of the first chapter. I’m not sure you can apply this to every kind of story, and it can be very difficult, but it’s a good exercise both for the writer and reader. You also have to be careful not to make the problem statement so obvious that the reader can then put down the novel because they know what’s going to happen.
In the WebMage books the problem statement is usually also a red herring, i.e. Ravirn thinks he has x problem with thing y, but in actuality he has g problem with thing y, or x problem with thing r, or some other variation. In Cybermancy, Ravirn initially thinks the problem is simply “I need to get Shara’s soul out of Hades,” and that is the opening problem, but the actual problem is closer to “How do I get Shara’s soul out of Hades successfully and survive the consequences?” which is a multi-step process that only begins with the initial extraction of Shara’s soul.
3) Introduce the setting. This is especially important in science fiction and fantasy where part of what the reader is looking for is a cool speculative world (technology, magic system, magical creature, alien, magical situation, etc.). I’m generally of the school that says the more of this you put up front the better, though there are situations where you might want to keep parts of it secret for a while. I’m absolutely of the opinion that something fantastical has to happen before the chapter ends.
In summation:
1) Protagonist introduction (generally sympathetic).
2) Problem statement.
3) Setting.
Hey, that sounds like a character with a problem in a setting. Isn’t that the most basic description of story? Why, yes it is Mr. McCullough; you get a balloon. I know this seems almost too basic, but it’s remarkably easy to lose track of. In many ways an opening chapter has to play out the arc of the book in miniature. For that matter, so does a closing chapter.
It’s really very similar to the best advice I ever got for writing an essay: Paragraph one, tell the reader what you’re going to tell them. Main body of paper, tell the reader what you said you were going to tell them. Final paragraph, tell the reader what you just told them.
As a writer you have to think about chapter and scene, especially first chapters and scenes, as much in terms of what they do for the reader as you do about what the events of the story are. You have to develop a sense of the structure of story in a way that non-critical readers don’t.
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*I really do like the word likable–not so much in terms of likable to the other characters and certainly not in terms of “nice” but in terms of a character that the reader can like. I prefer lead characters who are complex and layered and morally ambiguous. That said, it’s my bias both as a writer and a reader that if I don’t get a reason to like a character fairly quickly I’m not going to want to spend time with them. That’s not to say that they can’t be nasty or vicious or evil on some levels–a good writer can make people with all of those traits likable–just that if I don’t like the protagonist pretty quickly I put the book down and walk away and don’t come back.
**I’ve borrowed this term from physics problem solving theory** in which the student’s first task is to read the test or homework problem, figure out what they are solving for, and restate it in a clear way so that they can dedicate all of their efforts toward the correct goal.
***Where they got it I can’t say, physicists just like it better that way.
Laura and I went to see the Star Wars exhibit at the Science Museum of Minnesota with her sister Kat and Kat’s husband (my fellow Wyrdsmith) Sean Murphy. It was entertaining—cool ship models and some of the props and costumes–but Laura and I felt that it just didn’t have the same impact as the Magic of Myth Star Wars exhibit, which Laura and I saw at the Smithsonian sometime last century.
We spent some time trying to figure out why that was and concluded that it’s got nothing to with the exhibit and everything to do with episodes I-III. After seeing what Lucas did with I-III we simply aren’t the same Star Wars fans we were when we saw the Magic of Myth. While there was some really cool stuff in the prequels, the incredibly inferior storytelling has tarnished the brand for us in a deep and abiding way, which is actually quite sad.
The one big exception to the simply not as cool as all this stuff used to be factor was the cockpit of the Millenium Falcon in the Jump to Lightspeed attraction, where the four of us got to go into a mockup of the Falcon’s cockpit and watch a short surround-projected film that included several jumps to lightspeed. We were all acting like excited nine-year-olds for that bit, hitting buttons, flipping switches, and just generally playing in a way that grownups mostly* don’t get to. It was thrilling because we all deep down loved IV-VI, and the Falcon by itself didn’t evoke the disappointment of I-III.
I’m sure there’s an important lesson in there for writers about not tarnishing your brand and learning when to stop, but I’m equally sure it’s actually quite hard to apply. I have no doubt that Lucas thought I-III were going to be great and that’s why he did them. He certainly didn’t need the money. There’s also a lesson in understanding that once a story has an audience and fans, it can never be entirely the writer’s toy ever again, no matter how much we might want it to be. Perhaps that’s all generalizable to something like the writer has to understand that the audience is part of the story and that’s true from the moment you start writing something you intend to share.
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*I actually do get to play on a daily basis because my job is writing fantasy, but it’s generally make-believe in my head, and rarely involves toys.
(Originally published on the Wyrdsmiths blog July 21 2008, and original comments may be found there. Reposted and reedited as part of the reblogging project)
Waiting for Inspiration: A Writer’s Morality Play In Half An Act
The players, Three Fairies:
Inspiration-a classical sparkly-winged tinker-bell type
Motivation–a rather weasely looking fellow in the mode of a low rent Puck
Discipline–a 500 pound gorilla in a tutu and obviously taped-on wings
The scene:
A gray stage, empty save for a gray desk with a laptop and two chairs.
Discipline: It’s nine, let’s get to work on this manuscript.
Motivation: (Nervously) Don’t you think we should wait for Inspiration? She was here at the beginning.
Discipline: Yeah, and she’ll be back at the end to take all the credit, just like always. Between now and then we won’t see hide nor hair of her.
Inspiration: (In the wings) Just to show him, I’m not going to come help with their stinky old manusc—Oooh, shiny. (Turns away, the sounds of bells and sprinkled fairy dust fade into the distance)
Discipline: Are you going to help me with this, or not?
Motivation: I don’t know. I really like Inspiration. She’s almost as good as deadlines for getting me moving.
Discipline: Speaking of dead lines, if you don’t get your ass in that chair and write some good lines, dead is exactly what you’ll be. (Cracks enormous knuckles and glares at Motivation menacingly)
Motivation: Let me see about that next scene opening….
Discipline: There we go.
The moral: Motivation rocks when it’s there for you, but Discipline is what makes deadlines. Forget Inspiration.
(Originally published on the SFNovelists blog February 11 2009, and original comments may be found there. Reposted and reedited as part of the reblogging project)
I had really strange dream last night about visiting my old school and ending up having to take a standardized test on the Muppets. Only, during the part of the test period where they gave you the context for the questions (new Muppets with some interesting new story structure), my cat Nutmeg escaped and I had to go chase her done outside before anything bad could happen to her. When I got back I’d missed important parts of the test. I wasn’t stressed about it though because I knew I could ace the test anyway. Then I woke up.
What does that have to do with writing? I don’t know about it at a conscious level, but at an unconscious level I woke up with quite a few of the story tools I need to solve some of the problems I’ve been having with The Black School sequel. Pretty much without transition I went from the Muppet dream into waking, plotting on, and thinking about The Eye Of Horus, and I could feel my backbrain linking the two somehow.
Apparently my subconscious was able to use Kermit and the gang to organize my thoughts about what The Eye Of Horus is really about thematically and in terms of story arc and also to work out some of the details of the romance subplot.
Why Muppets? I don’t know. How? I can’t say for sure, but I could make an informed guess about symbolic reasoning and a brain wired for story making connections between a successful extant storyworld construct and the one I’m building.
Basically, at the unconscious level I think in story, which is why I tend to leak weirdness if I’m not writing. The stuff has to go someplace and the page is probably the safest place for it.
In short, I write to protect the rest of you from the stuff that would otherwise leak out of my brain and pollute the social environment.
(Originally published on the Wyrdsmiths blog July 16 2008, and original comments may be found there. Reposted and reedited as part of the reblogging project)
Dreaming of Conducting A Symphony
Still Life With Beer
And Steal Everyone’s Left Shoe
I Was Here First!
(Originally published on the Wyrdsmiths blog July 11 2008, and original comments may be found there. Reposted and reedited as part of the reblogging project)
I had a good, if occasionally surreal, con–but then isn’t that the way they always work?
I normally commute back and forth to CONvergence (it’s only an hour away) but I’m co-literary-GOH with Pat Rothfuss next year, and Laura and I thought we should go for a more immersive experience in preparation. We stayed at the Sofitel, which is the hotel next door to the con and a lovely hotel in the European mode. Next year we’ll be in the con hotel, but I suspect that we’ll go back to the Sofitel the year after (unless we’re in Scotland for the summer, keep your fingers crossed on that one).
We spent most of Friday hanging out with archivist extraordinaire Lynne Thomas and her charming husband Michael who is another of the writer clan. Lynne and I were on two panels together that evening and we all had a lovely dinner between the two with Lars Pearson and Christa Dickson of Mad Norwegian Press. As an aside, Lynne archives my papers at NIU along with those of Jack McDevitt, E. E. Knight, Sarah Monette, Elizabeth Bear, Kage Baker, Caroline Stevermer, and Tobias Buckell, among others. She is on a mission to save the archives of as many f&sf authors as humanly possible, a mission I very much support.
The first of those panels was Care and Feeding of Your Home Library (Paula Fleming, Jenni Klumpp, Kelly McCullough, Juanita Nesbitt, Lynne Thomas) which was a great deal of fun, and at which I learned several new things about the storing of books. New to me was the idea of transporting and storing boxed books spine down so that the pages are pressed into the glue for however long they’re stored. More familiar was the discussion of avoiding big temperature swings, extreme temperatures, too much moisture, etc. I talked up Delicious Library as a wonderful cataloging tool, and Jenni had good things to say about Librarything.com. Lynne tried to convince us all that it was okay to throw away books in bad condition. She’s right, but I don’t think she had much success on that front.
After the panel a bunch of the audience headed for the front of the room–which I am quite used to–and a bunch of them were carrying my books–which I am not so used to. It was my first ever fan swarm and very cool if somewhat disconcerting.
Then dinner.
Followed by the Dr. Who season 4 panel (Michael Lee, Steven Manfred, Kelly McCullough, Lynne Thomas, Michael Zecca). I did not say much but had a good time. The original panel description suggested that there would be more discussion of seasons 1-3 then we ended up with, and since I live beyond the edges of cable land and don’t bit torrent I was not as up to date as I really needed to be. Also, I am discovering that I am not great on fan panels. I am a fan, a third generation fan, no less, but I don’t keep the necessary information at my fingertips in the same way that my fellow panelists seem to. The sole exception being LOTR stuff which is written into my bones.
Afterward we went on for general hanging out and social with a variety of folks.
Saturday:
Started off the day by hopping in the car and driving around till we found a nice little hole-in-the-wall kind of cafe where we had a lovely breakfast. I should say that Laura drove, as it was morning and Laura prefers not to have me operate any kind of heavy machinery much before 10:00 since I wake up very slowly. I had a big old omelet–I find that when I am at conventions I crave mass quantities of protein in a way that I do not in normal life. When we got back we noodled around for a bit and then I went off to do a panel while Laura cross-stitched in the atrium.
The panel was Writing Business: Cover letters, manuscripts, and rejections (Roy C. Booth, Kelly McCullough, Michael Merriam, Adam Stemple, Anna Waltz) and it was held at Krushenko’s, the literary venue that Eric Heideman (editor of TOTU, SMOF, and all around good guy, has been running for years). The panel had a good mix of folks Anna and Michael are much more up to date on the short markets these days then I am. Roy has published a jillion plays and does comic and movie work, though he can only talk about the latter in a general way because of NDAs. Adam, in addition to being an actively publishing novelist, is Jane Yolen’s son and probably has absorbed more publishing knowledge through simple osmosis than most of us do in actively working in the business.
It was a great deal of fun as it was a good articulate crew with a sense of humor and we had a large audience to keep feeding us questions. I’ve been in writers groups with Anna and have known and been friends with her for about ten years. Michael and I have been on quite a few panels together as well as sharing a reading time a few years back and I enjoy his company. I’ve likewise done quite a few panels with Roy though I don’t know him as well. I’d never met Adam before, which is surprising because we both lived in the same city for years and for a lot of that moved in circles with a good deal of overlap–Ren Faires for me and Irish Music for Adam. I hope I get a chance to talk with him more at some later date.
After the panel I found Laura and we were going to wander around looking for something to do but got preempted by bumping into our old and very dear friend Tesla (yes that’s her real name) who we hadn’t managed to actually get together with for about six years–there are definite disadvantages to living out on the edge of nowhere. We hung out with Tesla for several hours, accumulating and spinning off other folks at a pretty steady clip, some mutual friends, some that knew us or Tesla but not the other. One of those latter made for a great introduction moment. An obvious con-runner (con-com perhaps?) showed up, gave Tesla a big hug and joined the conversation as so often happens in these situations. After a bit, Tesla pauses and says, “I don’t know if you’ve all been introduced. Ishmael, this is Laura McCullough and her husband Kelly.” At which point both Ishamael and I did giant double takes. He because I’m one of next year’s GOHs for CONvergence. I because Ishmael is one of those people I’ve been hearing about for years from multiple sources but had never actually met (he’s another TC area SMOF). Handshakes and grins were exchanged and then we all got back to a lovely chat.
At some point Tesla had to go do music things and Laura and I needed food. That happened and Laura and I eventually ended up back at the atrium where we worked on a puzzle and hung out a series of folks including writer/editor Catherine Lundoff, a friend of many years standing, and poet/editor Rebecca Marjesdatter. If you’re getting the impression that a lot of hanging out in halls and corners was happening you’re perfectly right. Laura and I found out years ago that not only do we have more fun that way at conventions of both the sf and physics variety, but we both get more work done at hallway meeting than almost anywhere else.
Somewhere in there we also wandered back to our car to pick up an old manuscript of mine and a folder full of readings and talks, all of which we then delivered to my archivist Lynne Thomas–have I mentioned that I love how my writing clutter turns into her buried treasure? One moment it’s a mess, the next: “Presto-chango,” and it’s potentially valuable historical documents. I love my job.
More hanging out and then I went off to my next panel: Urban Fantasy (Kenneth Hite, Kelly McCullough, Michael Merriam, Juanita Nesbitt, Adam Stemple, Jody Wurl) This one was 11:00-11:59 p.m. and way past my bedtime, but too much fun to give up. This was another good group. Jody and I have been friends for something like 25 years and Kenneth Hite was one of this year’s thundering herd of GOHs and both fun and funny. Juanita I’d met at my library panel the previous day and she’s very sweet. A good time was had by all and my books got a great unsolicited plug from an audience member who had all three to be signed for a friend. Best of all, neither of the standard Urban Fantasy flame wars got started. One of those is the one that tries to draw an arbitrary line between the urban fantasy that gets marketed as fantasy and the urban fantasy that gets marketed as paranormal romance. The other is the one that pretends urban fantasy hasn’t exploded as a genre by ignoring everything published in the field in the last ten years. So, yay panel!
We even all agreed that the current round (last twenty years or so) was kicked off in 1987, the year which saw the publishing of Emma Bull’s War for the Oaks and Eleanor Arnason’s Daughter of the Bear King–both fantasies set in the Twin Cities. I wanted to put Tim Powers’ Last Call closer to that time then it was. I was thinking only a year or two behind in ’88 or ’89 but Kenneth Hite didn’t think so and he was right. Last Call was ’92.
After the panel and the inevitable post-panel chat, Laura and I went face down for the night. I should also mention that I picked up a copy of Michael Merriam’s self-published short story collection at that point and that if you get the opportunity you should too. They’re all stories that have been previously published in various professional venues. Michael got tired of answering the question “Where can I find your stories?” with a laundry list of publications that might or might not be currently available–the eternal problem of short fiction. I’m quite looking forward to reading it as I really enjoy Michael’s work.
Sunday was a much briefer day for us. Checked out. Had Breakfast. Did a reading (good attendance). Said some goodbyes. Headed for home.
(Originally published on the Wyrdsmiths blog July 8th and 9th 2008, and original comments may be found there. Reposted and reedited as part of the reblogging project)
Jordan and Isabelle:
Meglet (Nutmeg really):
Ashbless:
Leith:
(Originally published on the Wyrdsmiths blog July 4 2008, and original comments may be found there. Reposted and reedited as part of the reblogging project)
I’m in one of those (usually) short fallow periods that seem to be a part of my process. What that means is that I need to let my subconscious pick away at some identified problems in the structure of the book going forward.
The way it usually goes is my subconscious spots a big old problem in the plan before I actually get to it in the text and I have conscious “well damn,” moment. I then stall out for a while, usually on the order of a week or two while my backbrain picks away. Then, at some point I say, “the hell with it, I’m just going to write through it,” and I do so. I suspect that I hit the write through it moment because my subconscious has solved the problem and sends some subtle message to the motivational centers.
Unfortunately, there’s a potentially perfectly valid alternate theory: I’m lazy. I hit a difficult spot and don’t want to do the work to get through it, so I go off and woolgather until my Midwestern guilt at not working gets bad enough to drive me back to the keyboard where I solve the problem in real time by just writing through it and all the fallow period stuff is so much sophistery to disguise the fact that I don’t actually like to do hard work.
I strongly suspect and hope that the first theory is the correct one but I’m aware enough of my ability to self-justify that I will never really know, and that’s actually pretty aggravating.
Sigh.
(Originally published on the Wyrdsmiths blog July 01 2008, and original comments may be found there. Reposted and reedited as part of the reblogging project)