Writing Advice

A writer is somebody for whom writing is more difficult than it is for other people. Thomas Mann - I owe my success to having listened respectfully to the very best advice, and then going away and doing the exact opposite. G. K. Chesterton

[writingadvice1]

Writing Advice

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[writingadvice1]

Words create sentences; sentences create paragraphs; sometimes paragraphs quicken and begin to breathe. Imagine, if you like, Frankenstein's monster on its slab. Here comes lightening, not from the sky but from a humble paragraph of English words. Maybe it's the first really good paragraph you wrote, something so fragile and yet full of possibility that you are frightened. You feel as Victor Frankenstein must have when the dead conglomeration of sewn-together spare parts suddenly opened its watery yellow eyes. Oh my God, it's breathing, you realize. Maybe it's even thinking. What in hell's name do I do next?

Stephen King

[shakingtambourine-deactivated20]

[writingadvice1]

shakingtambourine:

J.K. Rowling’s Plot Spreadsheet for ‘Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix’

She divides the columns by chapter number, story timeline, chapter title, main plots and subplots.

If you blow that image up and look at it, it’s fascinating. Rowling outlines each chapter in detail including which month of the school year it takes place in, the title and the plot. All of that seems standard. But it’s the next few columns where things get really good.  

She keeps track of all the book’s subplots in every chapter and how they are developing in the real world of the book, even if they aren’t mentioned on the page. So, there’s a full column on "The Prophecy" which is the main subplot Harry is worried about throughout the book. Then there’s a column for the romantic subplot, titled "Cho/Ginny" followed by "D.A." which follows what’s going on with Harry, Ron and Hermione’s resistance group "Dumbledore’s Army," one called "O of P," a column about what’s the latest with the "Order of the Phoenix," a.k.a, the people who believe Voldemort is still alive, then separate columns for Snape (and others, I can’t read Rowlings writing) and the Hagrid and Grawp story.

If you think about Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, that’s it. Those columns pretty much encompass the whole story. Frankly, I’m surprised there isn’t a column for Dolores Umbridge but this surely isn’t the full extent of Rowling’s outlining. Really, it’s just a small window into her genius.

(source)

[writingadvice1]

How To Write The Middle Section of a Novel

The dreaded middle section of the novel. The bit that sometimes makes would-be novelists give up entirely and take up gardening instead. The part after the amazing beginning and just before the satisfying ending has a habit of stalling many writers, because often they are not sure how to progress. Once you’ve begun the novel, it’s daunting to sustain it for 25 chapters and this fear can cause problems later in the novel. The main thing to remember is that the novel will have a chronological flow. It’s your character’s journey from the beginning to the end. The middle section is where most of the action will take place, slowly building up as you edge towards the climax of the story and it’s where the reader learns everything about the characters, the situation and what is driving the character to achieve his or her goal.

Motivation

The middle section of the novel is where the reader learns the motivation for your character’s struggle to solve his or her problems. The beginning of the novel is the set-up; the middle is the execution of the events that lead to the resolution – the end. Always keep this in mind – motivation is what will drive your story forward. As with actions, motivation comes from the reactions of characters and events. There are always motivations: the motivation to save an individual, find the truth, discover something in the past, to kill someone, to avoid someone, to get something, to do something... all these kind of motivations might appear as you move the story forward. Of course, the ultimate motivation is the goal of the main character, so don’t lose track of how important this is.

Pace

Pacing the novel is about giving balance to the story, of knowing when to go from a gentle, steady pace to an exciting action packed sequence before slowing the narrative again. Think of the story as a roller coaster ride – lots of highs and lows and dips and plenty of twists and turns. Most stories slowly build to a defining crescendo. Varying the pace of the writing can heighten the tension and action within your story. Slowing the pace will allow the reader to momentarily relax before speeding up the action again. Writers can employ different strategies to do this - descriptive passages, or passages of explanation, or interjections of tight dialogue and action. Remember action and reaction. In other words, for every action there is a reaction. A character might say something, and another character will react. Or your character might do something, and this always affects the outcome, there is a reaction. Everything happens for a reason, and this must also be true for your novel.

Description, Dialogue and Narrative

These three elements should be working together to create the story, but you should be looking for a balance of all three. Try not to have pages and pages of description – it’s likely to send the reader to sleep. Likewise, don’t have pages and pages of dialogue, otherwise this could irritate the reader. You can keep the reader interested by varying the balance. Narrative works on different levels. Your job as narrator is to make the reader respond in a particular way. Clever narrative can make us sad, make us laugh; it can horrify or excite us. We write stories to entertain and inform and they help us understand human nature and the world around us. Dialogue gives your character’s something to say, plus it moves the story forward. Characters always have lots to say! Description is very important. If you don’t describe the scenes, how will your reader truly be involved or understand the story? Lack of description is a major flaw in many writers. They write the scene, put in some dialogue and a bit of narrative and think that is sufficient. It isn’t. This is the ‘telling’ rather than the ‘showing’. Description allows a writer to show what is happening. Again, balance is key, but don’t neglect to describe what’s happening not just to your character, but what is happening around them. “Don't tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.” Anton Chekhov

Flashback

This is something else that could prove useful for when the middle section of your novel slows down or begins to stutter. The use of the flashback has three functions: to involve the reader about past events that relate to the story in the present, to inform the reader and move the story forward. What has happened to your characters in the past ultimately influences their actions in the present, so flashbacks are used to interrupt the narrative to show or explain past events. The most useful way to make flashback more effective is to introduce this device after you have hinted some future action in the story. This will also help flesh out your chapters and help you on your way to the end of the novel.

Plot Twists and Turns

 Think about the rollercoaster again. There a few straight sections of track. Instead you have something that rises and falls and bends in all directions. This is how you should think of the story – the middle section is perfect for building up tension, yanking away that comfortable carpet from the reader’s feet and keeping the excitement going. You are the writer – add subplots or new events to shake things up (keep them in context with the story).

Problems

Many first time novelists give up completely while writing the middle section, or they move onto something else. This happens for several reasons: 1. You run out of steam 2. Lack of planning – leads to writer’s block or giving up altogether 3. Lack of focus – tendency to start something else 4. Boredom – Lack of planning, can’t think of anything else to write There is a temptation to leave the novel and start something new because the initial excitement of a new project is far more appealing than finishing something that is giving you problems, and so you give up. The novel, half finished, sits in a drawer to collect dust. So why is the novel plodding? Why have you run out of steam? You’ve got a great beginning and introduced the characters, but you’re struggling by chapter 8 and scratching around for ideas to get the story moving again. Very often, this is down to a lack of planning. If you don’t have a chapter plan sketched out, it makes it difficult to ‘see’ the likely events to come within the story. It’s like travelling along the road in the dark, not knowing when the next turn might be. It would be so much easier with the headlights on to illuminate the way. If you haven’t already done so, do a rudimentary chapter plan of possible events, situations, scenes and characters to explore. Another reason why the novel tends to sag in the middle is that you’re looking at the writing from only one angle. This means you’re writing the story like a straight line: this event happens by chapter 8, and that scene happens by chapter 9, then something else by chapter 10, then the story dries up and then comes the sudden realisation that you have another ten chapters to fill before even contemplating an ending, and you have no idea how you can achieve that. This often happens because a writer hasn’t involved the main character thoroughly. Characters are like real people, they’ll always have something to say. Your novel will be no different. Your characters have so much to do and say throughout the story, you have to find ways of showing the reader. So make life difficult for your characters, construct conflicts and put barriers in their way, give them some subplots to play with. Most importantly, give them a voice. Give them thoughts that they can share with the reader. This creates immediacy; it involves the reader on a personal level with your character. If something important is happening in a scene, don’t just write about the scene with your character in it, involve your character. Jump into your character’s head and find out what they’re feeling, what they’re thinking and why they are in this situation. Do that, and before you know it, you’ve fleshed out those chapters and now you’re edging towards chapter 20 and the end is in sight. Of course, if you have a multi-viewpoint novel, you can do this for other main characters, too. Remember, the reader wants to know everything, so involve them. Whatever the character viewpoint, delve into your characters and let the reader know what everything that is going on. What are the characters thinking in that scene, how to do they feel about what’s happening, what could they do to make things different? How to they feel about the other characters? What’s important to them? What might happen? How can they resolve things?

Checklist

Create action and reaction

Create motivation and more conflict, add obstacles

Flashbacks

Move the story forward – dialogue, narrative, description

Involve the character’s thoughts and feelings

Pace – Keep it varied

Keep up the plot twists and turns

(via)

[writingadvice1]

Mapping out your Storyline

By John T Jones, Ph.D.

Elizabeth George is a fine writer and she likes to share her knowledge with other writers. She says that she does not start a story until she has defined her characters and setting and knows how the story ends. She does not like to wait for her characters to come alive and tell her the ending. On the other hand, I’m not great at predicting endings. While I’m writing, I get more excited about what is going on and I can’t wait to see what is going to happen and how things will work out.

I think that Elizabeth George is right. If you can define the ending before you write the novel, go ahead and do that. It will save you time and energy later.

What I mean by this is that when your characters take over your novel and determine the actions and endings in total, you may end up with a scrambled mess that you must untangle. When I wrote Bone China, I didn’t know the actions or the ending. My characters determined these for me. Finally, once I knew the story, I chucked the whole thing in the waste basket and wrote the novel over again.

Writers just hate to throw their precious work away. I’m not like that. I know that anything I write can be improved. (...) My point is that even though your spouse tells you that you have written a fine piece, it may not be so. You must be your toughest critic and you should be willing to accept help from others when offered.

When I chuck something, I tell my wife, "They are just words."

She says, "And you’ve got a lot of words in your head."

I suggest that you listen to Elizabeth George. Work out as many aspects of your novel that you can before you write the story. Here is how to develop your story line ala Elizabeth George:

Develop the hook.  If you want to have your book read from beginning to end, you must snag the reader’s attention. You have to have him or her wonder about what is going to happen next and as the story unfolds.

Develop plot point #1.  As your reader becomes familiar with your characters and their actions, something happens to change things. Clem stared over the fence across the prairie. A whirlwind kicked up the dust and out of the dust rode an apparition. Clem said, "Isaac, do you believe in ghosts?" Isaac looked and said, "Why, that looks like Henry Masters. He's supposed to be dead."

Develop the midpoint.  Now the intensity is rising. More complications pop up. Perhaps there is a natural disaster.

Develop plot point #2.  All complexities are now revealed and the protagonist has to make a decision as to what to do. Once that decision had been made, the ending of the novel is in sight. Your reader will want to know what happens next as you proceed to the ending. He will be counting the pages left in the novel, hoping that he (or she) does not run out of pages before he is ready.

Develop the narrative climax. Mildred looked at her husband and said, "I’m going back to Philadelphia, John. Mother is ill and she needs me. I’m taking the kids." She took an iron fry pan off the stove. "I won’t be coming back, John. It’s not because I don’t love you. I do. But I can’t take this godforsaken place, the wind and dust, the sagebrush, the rattlesnakes, and especially your ruthless friends."

John said, "You keep saying that you are leaving. This time I think you will. I’m keeping Henry. I need some help around here."

Her eyes flashed. Threatening John with the fry pan she said, "Over my dead body, John Grover."

Develop the dramatic climax. This is the big event of the story. Did you see the movie, "High Noon?" Did you see the movie "Midway?" The first ended in a gunfight and the second one ended in a battle. Mildred leaned over her bleeding husband. "I wasn’t really going to leave you, John. Now damn it, don’t you leave me."

Develop the denouement. Denouement is from the French as if you hadn’t guessed. It means untying. You can’t just dump your reader after the main event. You have to tie loose ends together. You should answer the questions that are still in your readers mind. If you don’t, you will leave your reader unsatisfied.

Chapter Content

Note that more than one chapter may be needed to cover what is going on. (...)

Novels come in all flavors. (...) Rather than trying to describe these steps to you, I have written a novelette to demonstrate them. How to get that novelette at no charge follows.

Show your main character in normal surroundings.

Give your character a problem to solve.

Bring in helpers for your character.

Your hero investigates a problem.

Hero is in the place where the problem began.

Hero begins to make progress, only to be thwarted.

As your hero learns more he is tested more. He gets in and out of problems only to be thrust into another problem. Get your hero in "the deep stuff."

Put your hero in a desperate situation; the more threatening the better.

The hero discovers the truth that he or she cannot reveal.

Our hero prepares to confront the villain.

The hero confronts the villain and the final outcome is revealed in the action.

The hero tells all, explains all, pontificates, answers all the reader's questions.

The above 12 steps may be covered in about 20 chapters. Okay, use 12 or 40. Don’t use a "red herring" to solve or commit your crime or create your problem. If you let your readers know what is going on as you write, you will not have too much of a problem. If you want to startle your reader in a negative way, introduce a "red herring." The reader will be gone. For that reason, important characters need to be introduced early in the novel.

If you alternate chapters for the hero and the antagonist, at least early in the book before they come together, you will have less risk of a problem with your readers. They will know the antagonist as well as the hero.

I haven’t mentioned dialogue. It is another subject. When people talk they use a lot of phrases like "and a" and they leave out words and insert pauses. I suggest until you are Mark Twain that you use proper spelling and proper English.

"Joe, wud ya ‘and me that brandin’ iron?" may look good to you but not your reader.

"Joe, hand me that iron before it gets as cold as a well-digger's arse in the Arctic," might work better, even with the old cliche.

Better still might be, "Joe, hand me that branding iron? Ain’t getting any warmer just sitting on that rock."

You can explain to your reader how Joe sounds, how he speaks, how he smells, etc. Just feed the facts of the matter slowly into scenes.

[writingadvice1]

Fight Scenes: Fencing, Defencing, Defenestration and Laceration

A good fight scene spices up any piece of writing. A good fight scene can be one of the best parts of your story – fast, brutal, exciting, with edges of pain, panic and humor thrown in the edges. Read on for some quick and dirty hints on how to write fight scenes quickly and dirtily!

Stay present. Fights happen in the here and now. When your characters are in a fight, they aren’t going to be worrying about what started it, or what’s going to happen afterwards. All their attention will be focused on the present. Make sure yours is, too.

Stay sharp! Make your sentences shorter. This speeds up the reader’s pace and quickens the scene. You can still vary lengths. Overall, shorter is better.

Shift focus. When fights happen, the fighters’ focus crystallizes. Your attention closes in. Peripheral vision narrows. Objects and people directly in front of you will seem more important. Fighters in a brawl will notice things close to them.

Know pain. If a fighter gets hit, know how it’s going to feel. If you’ve never been in a fight before, get someone to hit you in the guts. It’ll hurt. (Remember, life is pain. Anyone who says otherwise is selling something). Pain will shock the unwary and the unschooled into inaction. Some pain is hot and galvanising. Other pain is sharp and electric. If a fighter is wounded while fighting, think about how that’s going to make life harder for them. Make it visceral. Make it real.

Don’t always win. Not every fight should be a victory. Through defeat, challenges arise and are overcome. If you have an invincible fighter, write from another point of view.

Create problems. No fight goes according to plan. People trip, miss their footing, are a fraction too slow. Equipment bends, breaks, blows up, snags, cracks. Sleepiness, drunkenness and being drugged all inhibit fighting skill. Friends can leap in at the wrong moment. Bystanders might not be helpful, or might help the wrong party. Problems make the scene interesting. Forced improvisation is the most effective.

Have competent opponents. Fighting someone who knows what they’re doing is hard. A respected opponent makes for a good fight. Mindless goons getting mowed down gets boring, fast. Have the opponent pull surprises.

Fight real, fight dirty. The Marquis of Queensbery is dead. Real fighters don’t stop to make speeches at each other. Most fights don’t leave enough breath for talking. Swearing is common, instinctive and often violent. Experienced grapplers know that blows to the groin ends fights fast and easily. Swordsmen who like their organs inside their bodies keep a second blade handy. Every object can be made a weapon. Never turn down an opportunity. Never pass up an advantage.

Be aware of protocol. Fights in different environments will have their own protocols. A formal duel will have certain rules. Tavern fighters might expect to settle their argument with fists and boots, not blades. Consider what might be expected by the combatants and observers. You and your characters don’t have to follow the rules.

After-effects. Coming out of a fight, a character’s going to probably be high on adrenaline. Aggressive. ‘Pumped’. Angry people aren’t rational. They’ll be less inclined to tact, maybe saying and doing impolitic things. As adrenaline wears off, the body makes its’ problems known. Wounds need attention. Fatigue kicks in.

Combat systems. Different fighting styles will have their own languages. Fencing uses very technical terms for attack and defense and has it’s own styles. The same with all martial arts. Guns have their own bevy of technical terms. Research, use and abuse them. Make up your own schools of training if you want. Use you own words if you want. It’s better to know, and choose to break the rules, than to be totally ignorant.

Real fighters avoid fights. Real fighters – professionals, mercenaries, brawlers – know that fights are dangerous, chancy things. Bravado and conceit fade in the face of realism and experience. The inexperienced are far more likely to want to start fights.

Fighting well needs training. Enthusiastic amateurs will routinely get demolished by those with experience and training. If you want a character to be good at fighting, give them a history that justifies it. An actual fight is nasty, brutish and short. Even training often doesn’t prepare people for their first ‘real’ fight. Exploit this in your stories where you can.

Summarize. Not every piece of combat needs a whole scene. Some opponents aren’t worth the time or attention. Some fighters won’t notice what’s going on, acting on autopilot. It’s fine to say ‘Belarus skewered the man, tore his blade out, and kept walking.’

Choreograph. Sketch a scene out, especially a longer one or with multiple combatants. Get up and move like your character. Don’t worry, nobody’s watching. Notice how your weight shifts. What happens when you move? Where do you expose? What’s made vulnerable? When do you over-extend? What feels powerful? Stepping through the paces, however ungainly, lets you make your actions flow. Fighting is often about maintaining momentum – keeping blows hammering on your opponents. Feel how the fight will move.

Don’t choreograph. Don’t fall into the trap of “He did, she did”. Blow-by-blow descriptions, if that’s all there is, get damn tiring damn fast. Remember this isn’t a movie (yet!). Your readers will fill in the blanks that you leave. Not every flailing elbow and roundhouse kick needs to be described in exquisite detail. Fight scenes you’ve seen in movies aren’t realistic. If you put someone through a window, they’ll die. If a real swordsman fights ten ninjas, the ninjas will win.

Don’t write the scene at all. Cut out just before the action starts. Join back when the loser comes to. Skip to a visit in the hospital.

(source)

[shakingtambourine-deactivated20]

[writingadvice1]

(via shakingtambourine)

[dancingwithwolves]

One of the things I know about writing is this: spend it all, shoot it, play it, lose it, all, right away, every time. Do not hoard what seems good for a later place in the book or for another book; give it, give it all, give it now. The impulse to save something good for a better place later is the signal to spend it now. Something more will arise for later, something better. These things fill from behind, from beneath, like well water. Similarly, the impulse to keep to yourself what you have learned is not only shameful, it is destructive. Anything you do not give freely and abundantly becomes lost to you. You open your safe and find ashes.

Annie Dillard (via dancingwithwolves)

[writingadvice1]

Fantasy Fiction: Prophecies – Doing It Properly

Prophecies, badly done, are a waste of space in your story. They may even be actively detrimental to your writing. This doesn’t mean that you can’t include them in your writing at all, though. Done well, prophecies can be exciting, intriguing, puzzling, heart-rending and completely captivating.

(...)

Make the prophecy’s inevitability the major turning point of the plot.

Tell me if this is familiar: once a prophecy has been made, and we’re aware of the characters’ destiny, then the prophecy itself is largely forgotten. If we’re lucky, it’s referenced at convenient keystone points in the plot’s progression. Slain a hobgoblin? Great! Check one mark off the list. Now what’s left? Oh, a sudden but inevitable betrayal.

This is a little awkward because it highlights just how shallow the prophecy is. Think about if someone had foretold your destiny in real life – to win the lottery, not quite pay off your mortgage - well, something more exiting than that. I bet that if you had a God, an actual God, telling you something was going to happen, it’d be preying on your mind a fair bit. I’m sure it’d come up in conversation more than once. Especially if you were at a bar and wanting to impress someone.

Yet, too often, I read stories where the characters apparently forget that there’s ever been a prophecy. What? Seriously? Can you imagine this happening in real life? Yet the characters get so blasé that, forty pages on, they blindly ignore the limping, seemingly friendly barkeep who was not-so-subtly-mentioned-by-the-Gods only a chapter ago.

Morons.

So, one approach to enhance the realism of your story is to bring your prophecy into the story more. Have characters try and understand what’s going to happen. Is it futile to try and second-guess destiny? Are the protagonists desperate to have the prophecy fulfilled? Your characters, broadly speaking, are going to be intelligent. Have them apply their intelligence to the situations at hand.

People like to think about their own futures. Have your characters extrapolate what their lives are going to be like if the prophecy succeeds. Is the future looking rosy? Bleak? Awkward? How is what’s happening to them tying into their expectations? Do they begin to doubt the prophecy? Are their actions strengthening it, creating a chain of events that increases the likelihood of a particular outcome?

Thwart the prophecy.

Often prophetic instructions signify a breaking dawn. They herald the overthrowing of the bad guy, the ushering in of a new era of discounted popcorn and snacks for every peasant. Predictably, then, the story unforlds with the antagonist trying to thwart the prophecy and the good guys trying to make it come about.

Consider what happens if you want to reverse the roles. What happens if a prophecy has already taken place and been fulfilled, and not everybody’s happy with the outcome? What happens if the Gods decreed that Evil Overlord #13 would rule over the Empire for a thousand years of good health, and we’re only at year 350? Pitting your protagonists against not only an antagonist, but the decrees of Fate itself makes for some interesting reading.

This also gives the clever, thinking-ahead plot builder the capacity to expand on a series of Xanatos Gambits, which, if executed well, lead for a terrifying opponent and a series of frustrating adventures for the hero. Nobody wants to make it too easy for them, after all.

Tragedy

As a reader astutely pointed out, prophecy and predetermination has an important role to play in tragedies. Now, strictly speaking, most stories written nowadays aren’t tragic, more closely hewing to the Hero’s Journey or other storytelling aarchetypes. However, the Greeks were deeply into tragedies, and they were generally agreed to be some pretty top-notch thinkers, so consider what makes prophecy such an important force in tragedy.

Firstly, we are given the sense of the inevitable. The hero, flawed either in nature or by unfortunate happen-stance of birth, is placed into a situation where they are forced by the nature of their character and circumstance to inevitably destroy themself. Watching the events unfold is striking for the audience because they know what’s going to happen. It’s like clicking on a Youtube link to a video of a train wreck. You know it’s coming, and it’s going to be horrible, but it’s relentless intriguing nonetheless.

If you’re intrigued by the processes that tragedies undergo, there are tons of resources to guide you. Check out Christopher Booker’s work, Shakespearean tragedies, and for an introduction to Greek tragedies, Sophocles is your man. Look at his Theban Plays to see if tragedy is your thing.

Get Delphic

Straight forward prophecies are boring and formulaic. Go get that sword. Kill a dragon. It sounds like a shopping list.

Luckily, there’s another way to pass on a prophecy that addresses all the good things about destinies while limiting the downside. This is to provide the prophecy in the form of a riddle, which will be unravelled over the course of the story. This unravels our Gordian-esque knotty problem with one sure stroke.

The characters don’t have a clear idea of what they’re in for

Readers can enjoy trying to solve the puzzle presented to the characters

Retroactive revelations become a solution and a recognition, not an annoyance

A great example of using non-direct oracles is in Dave Duncan’s excellent The Reluctant Swordsman trilogy. Wallie Smith, a nuclear technician, finds himself transported into a seemingly stock-fantasy world. A God gives him the following riddle:

First your brother you must chain. And from another wisdom gain. When the mighty has been spurned, An army earned, a circle turned, So the lesson may be learned. Then finally return the sword And to its destiny accord.

This is the essence of excellent, cryptic prophecy. The unfolding of the prophecy itself is barely underway when the first book in the trilogy ends, but hints have already been laid out by the author as to how the story will unfold.

Of the dozen people I’ve lent the series to, none of them accurately predicted the fulfilling of the prophecy until quite near the end of the series. Ultimately, everybody was left feeling satisfied with the resolution of the storyline, and agreed that the prophecy gave the characters direction, motivation, and ultimately assured the success of the story.

So why would a prophesier choose to be indirect? There are quite a few reasons. They may wish to test the hero’s mettle and intelligence. They may wish for the quest to be revealed in stages or as wisdom is gleaned. They may be in a state of confusion themselves. Remember that, depending on your methodology, consulting tea-leaves and entrails is not an exact science.

Approach with intelligence

The fundamental solution to the problems with prophecy is to approach it with intelligence. If you take the easy, mindless path of throwing a prophecy into your story without real thought, you’ll end up with a shallow, predictable book. Train yourself to ask questions. Doing so forces you to flesh out answers and create a more wholesome, rounded product. Like with most practises in life, if you see a question you’re hesitant about answering, it means you probably should. Your story-writing muscles could be a little under-developed in that area, and the only way of strengthening them is by flexing.

Below, I’ve listed a handy set of 80 Questions Of Awesomeness for you to answer. Some of them could be reduced to a ‘Yes/No’ response, but I encourage you to give them a little more thought than that. Even to yourself, a one-sentence justification will give you more colour and depth to enjoy.

Remember:

Ask yourself ‘why?’ about everything to do with your prophecy.

1. Who prophesied? 2. How did the prophecy come about? 3. What initiated it? 4. Why did they do it? 5. Were they compelled? 6. What were their motivations? 7. Are they infallible? 8. Are they likely to be truthful? 9. Can they be trusted? 10. Have they prophesied in the past? 11. How did that turn out? 12. What expelling of energies does as prophecy require? 13. Is the oracle / seer drained afterwards? 14. Is it effortless? 15. How is the prophecy communicated? 16. Was it open to interpretation? 17. Is there any disagreement over the wording? 18. Intent? 19. Are prophecies jealously guarded? 20. Secret? 21. Hoarded? 22. Recorded? 23. Publicly available? 24. Commonplace? 25. Was it bought? 26. Through sacrifice, dedication, prayer, devotion, merit? 27. Is there a ritual involved? 28. If yes, what sort of ritual? 29. Was the prophecy provided for someone’s entertainment? 30. As part of a larger scheme or plan? 31. Did someone ask for the prophecy? 32. How did they know they could ask for it? 33. Did they ask properly and completely? 34. Has the giver-of-prophecy been ambiguous or tricky in the past? 35. Do they have a reputation? 36. Is the Oracle omnipotent? 37. Omniescent? 38. Threatenable? 39. Intractable? 40. Is the prophecy clear-cut? 41. Esoteric? 42. How strong is the prophecy? 43. Is the fate that’s given predetermined? 44. Can outside events effect the prophecy? 45. Are there dangers to the prophesier in the act of divining? 46. Are there costs in terms of pain? 47. Sacrifice? 48. Effort? 49. Who is going to be pleased with the prophecy? 50. How will they react? 51. Are they going to be informed of the prophecy? 52. How? 53. When? 54. By whom? 55. Who will be displeased? 56. How will they react? 57. Who will tell them? 58. What immediate actions will they take? 59. What will they plan in the longer term? 60. When will the subjects of the prophecy find out about their involvement? 61. What other parties are involved? 62. What are their interests? 63. How can the prophecy be broken? 64. If it’s a chain of events, does the breaking of one destroy the others? 65. Is the prophecy mutable? 66. Resilient? 67. Fragile? 68. Are there more than one source of prophecies in the story? 69. If so, which is stronger? 70. Can conflicting prophecies be given? 71. What happens if there are? 72. Is anyone likely to lie about the prophecy? 73. How? 74. By withholding information? 75. By altering the prophecy? 76. Denying its’ existence? 77. What do they stand to gain from this? 78. What if people don’t believe in the prophecy? 79. Does that affect it at all? 80. How will they be convinced?

Naming Your Prophecies

Don’t feel stuck with that one word. Look! I’ve made another list for you. Not comprehensive, but enough to get excited about. Prophecies can also be called:

Divination Casting Dooms Edicts Fates Foreboding Foretelling Geas Oracles Portent Prayers answered Premonition Presciences Prevision Prognosis Revelations Visions

Says Who?

Prophecies can be given by:

Animated Objects (mirrors, ponds, candlesticks) Augurs Channellers Clairvoyants Dæmons Demons Diviners Diviners Djinnis Enchanters Enchantresses Forecasters Foretellers Fortune-Tellers Genies Gods and Goddesses Harbingers Haruspexes Heralds Mediums Midwives Miracle Workers Prophets Psychics Satanists Seers Shamen Soothsayers Theurgists Voodooists Wise Men Wise Women Witches Wizards

Have fun!

(source)

[writingadvice1]

Constructing a Scene

By Crawford Kilian

The basic unit of fiction is not the sentence or the paragraph, but the scene. Every scene in a story has both a verbal and a nonverbal content. The verbal content may be a young man fervently courting a girl, or the President of the United States deciding whether to go ahead with a nuclear attack on a biological-warfare research center. The nonverbal content appears in the way you present the scene: You want your reader to think that the young man is touchingly awkward, or obnoxiously crude; that the president is a shallow twerp or a deeply sensitive man facing a terrible decision.

In effect, you are like an attorney presenting a case to the jury: You supply the evidence, and the jury supplies the verdict. If you tell us that the young man is touchingly awkward, we may well disbelieve you. But if you show us his awkward behavior, and we say, “Aw, the poor lunk!” - then your scene has succeeded.

Every scene presents a problem of some kind for one or more characters, and shows us how the characters deal with that problem. That, in turn, shows us something about the characters and moves the story ahead.

Here's an exercise I've found useful with my fiction-writing students. I give them about 30 minutes to take the following elements to construct a scene that dramatizes the elements and leads to a decisive resolution:

A taxi and public-transit strike that's completely tied up downtown traffic

Donald Benson, a 35-year-old businessman: male chauvinist, aggressive personality, with business troubles

Helene Williams, his 22-year-old secretary: insecure in her new job, able to make friends easily, knows the city well

The need to get Donald to a hotel out at the airport to make a crucial presentation to a potential investor from Los Angeles; the investor will be flying out in four hours.

Give yourself half an hour to write such a scene, so that the reader will finish it knowing all this information. I predict you'll be amazed at how quickly you can produce the scene, and at how it leads logically to another scene. The key is *knowing what you want to show your reader about your characters and their problems.* Once you know that, everything else follows pretty easily. So consider what's going on in your own story. What do you want your reader to think about your heroine? That she's shy but determined? That she thinks no man could ever love her? That she's perceptive about other women but baffled by men? Whatever those traits may be, you should be able to think of logical, plausible events that could force her to show them to us.

In some cases, your plot will give you some automatic scenes. If your heroine is flying from New York to Frankfurt, maybe her seatmate is an attractive man who studiously ignores her; maybe the German customs people give her a hard time but she insists on her rights; maybe the heroine sees the attractive man greeted by a woman he seems to dote on even though the perceptive heroine can see the woman despises him. And so on.

How long should a scene be? Long enough to make its point. A scene may run to just a sentence or two, or it may take up 20 pages. When it ends, we should know more about the characters involved, and their problems should have increased. This doesn't mean endlessly increasing gloom, but it means that even a success only clears the way for a more stressful scene to come. The hero may disarm the terrorist bomb in the daycare center, but the resulting publicity will make him a marked man; now the terrorists will try to kill him or his loved ones.

How many characters should take part in a scene? As few as possible. Even a debate in Congress isn't going to involve every last representative. Here's a tip in this connection: If your plot demands a fairly large cast - for example, your protagonist is the commanding officer of an infantry platoon, or the headmistress of a girls' school - don't introduce a whole mob of characters at once. Bring in your protagonist first, in a scene that demonstrates the character's key traits (courage, leadership, self-hatred, whatever). Then bring in each of the supporting characters in a scene that lets him or her display key traits as well, while deepening our understanding of the protagonist and moving the plot along.

This way we build up interest in the story by building up interest in the varied and complex characters. Tolkien does it in The Lord of the Rings; Kurosawa does it in Seven Samurai. Learn from the old masters!

[writingadvice1]

I’m a full-time believer in writing habits, pedestrian as it all may sound. You may be able to do without them if you have genius but most of us only have talent and this is simply something that has to be assisted all the time by physical and mental habits or it dries up and blows away.

Flannery O’Connor

[writingadvice1]

“Let's talk about Dialogue,” he pontificated

By Crawford Kilian

Dialogue has to sound like speech, but it can't be a mere transcript; most people don't speak precisely or concisely enough to serve the writer's needs. Good dialogue has several functions:

To convey exposition: to tell us, through the conversations of the characters, what we need to know to make sense of the story.

To convey character: to show us what kinds of people we're dealing with.

To convey a sense of place and time: to evoke the speech patterns, vocabulary and rhythms of specific kinds of people.

To develop conflict: to show how some people use language to dominate others, or fail to do so.

Each of these functions has its hazards. Expository dialogue can be dreadful:

“We'll be in Vancouver in thirty minutes,” the flight attendant said. “It's Canada's biggest west coast city, with a population of over a million in the metropolitan area.”

Dialogue can convey character, but the writer may bog down in chatter that doesn't advance the story.

“When I was a kid,” said Julie, “I had a stuffed bear named Julius. He was a sweet old thing, and whenever I was upset I'd howl for him.”

(Unless Julie is going to howl for Julius when her husband leaves her, this kind of remark is pointless.)

Dialogue that conveys a specific place and time can become exaggerated and stereotyped:

“Pretty hot ootside, eh?” remarked Sergeant Renfrew of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police. “Good day to get oot of the hoose and oot on the saltchuck, eh? Catch us a couple of skookum salmon, eh?”

Dialogue that develops conflict has to do so while also conveying exposition, portraying character, and staying true to the time and place:

“Gadzooks,” said Sergeant Renfrew as he dismounted from his motorcycle. “Wouldst please present thy driver's licence and registration, madam?”

“Eat hot lead, copper!” snarled Sister Mary Agnes as she drew the .45 from within her habit.

Some Dialogue Hazards to Avoid:

Too much faithfulness to speech: “Um, uh, y'know, geez, well, like, well.”

Unusual spellings: “Yeah,” not “Yeh” or “Yea” or “Ya.”

Too much use of “he said,” “she said.”

Too much variation: “he averred,” “she riposted”

Dialect exaggeration: “Lawsy, Miz Scahlut, us's wuhkin' jes' as fas' as us kin.”

Excessive direct address: “Tell me, Marshall, your opinion of Vanessa.” “I hate her, Roger.” “Why is that, Marshall?” “She bullies everyone, Roger.”

Some Dialogue Conventions to Consider:

Each new speaker requires a new paragraph, properly indented and set off by quotation marks.

“Use double quotations,” the novelist ordered, “and remember to place commas and periods inside those quotation marks.”

“If a speaker goes on for more than one paragraph,” the count responded in his heavy Transylvanian accent, “do not close off the quotation marks at the end of the first paragraph.

“Simply place quotation marks at the beginning of the next paragraph, and carry on to the end of the quotation.”

Use “he said” expressions only when you must, to avoid confusion about who's speaking. You can signal increasing tension by moving from “he said” to “he snapped,” to “he snarled,” to “he bellowed furiously.” But the dialogue itself should convey that changing mood, and make such comments needless.

Action as well as speech is a part of dialogue. We expect to know when the speakers pause, where they're looking, what they're doing with their hands, how they respond to one another. The characters' speech becomes just one aspect of their interactions; sometimes their words are all we need, but sometimes we definitely need more. This is especially true when you're trying to convey a conflict between what your characters say and what they feel: their nonverbal messages are going to be far more reliable than their spoken words.

Speak your dialogue out loud; if it doesn't sound natural, or contains unexpected rhymes and rhythms, revise it.

Rely on rhythm and vocabulary, not phonetic spelling, to convey accent or dialect.

If you are giving us your characters' exact unspoken thoughts, use italics. If you are paraphrasing those thoughts, use regular Roman type):

Now what does she want? he asked himself. Isn't she ever satisfied? Marshall wondered what she wanted now. She was never satisfied.

If you plan to give us a long passage of inner monologue, however, consider the discomfort of having to read line after line of italic print. If you wish to emphasize a word in a line of italics, use Roman: Isn't she ever satisfied?

[writingadvice1]

You ought to set aside three hours every morning in which you write or do nothing else; no reading, no talking, no cooking, no nothing, but you sit there. If you write all right and if you don’t all right (...); whether you start something different every day and finish nothing makes no difference; you sit there. It’s the only way, I’m telling you. If inspiration comes you are there to receive it (...). And don’t write letters during that time. If you don’t write, don’t do anything else.

Flannery O’Connor

[writingadvice1]

One of the vital things for a writer who’s writing a book, which is a lengthy project and is going to take about a year, is how to keep the momentum going. It is the same with a young person writing an essay. They have got to write four or five or six pages. But when you are writing it for a year, you go away and you have to come back. I never come back to a blank page; I always finish about halfway through. To be confronted with a blank page is not very nice. But Hemingway, a great American writer, taught me the finest trick when you are doing a long book, which is, he simply said in his own words, “When you are going good, stop writing.” And that means that if everything’s going well and you know exactly where the end of the chapter’s going to go and you know just what the people are going to do, you don’t go on writing and writing until you come to the end of it, because when you do, then you say, well, where am I going to go next? And you get up and you walk away and you don’t want to come back because you don’t know where you want to go. But if you stop when you are going good, as Hemingway said… then you know what you are going to say next. You make yourself stop, put your pencil down and everything, and you walk away. And you can’t wait to get back because you know what you want to say next and that’s lovely and you have to try and do that. Every time, every day all the way through the year. If you stop when you are stuck, then you are in trouble!

Roald Dahl

[writingadvice1]

Creative uses of Magic in your Fantasy story

By Philip Martin

How can you create an interesting form of magic for your fantasy story? Will magic, in your fiction, be like a tool? A technique? A language? An art? A gift? A shadowy force of nature?

Or will you have several forms, as Tolkien did in The Lord of the Rings, where the dark forces use magic like a bulldozer to gain power, while the elves have a wonderful nature that is magic simply because everything they do is "more effortless, more quick, more complete" than the abilities of those around them?

In fantasy fiction, magic is the central nervous system. Done poorly, it makes readers roll their eyes and reviewers mouth the "genre" label derisively. Sophisticated, interesting magic, on the other hand, can fuel an amazing, wondrous story. It can add that unparalleled spark that elevates fantasy above other types of writing that have to keep their feet on the ground of plausible reality.

Magic doesn't need to be plausible, but it has to work well. Here of some of the keys:

1. Keep the rules of magic consistent.

Magic needs to work according to firm rules. Don't create surprises of magic out of the blue to save your characters -- the fictional equivalent of pulling a rabbit out of a hat.

Everything should be set in place long in advance. Then, the writer (and his/her characters) must stick by those rules of magic, even if difficult. Things set loose into the story must play out their full consequences. Like Rumpelstiltskin, if you lay down a magical challenge, you have to accept the logical outcome.

As Jane Yolen wrote in Writing Books for Children (1983): "The world a writer creates may have as its laws that the inhabitants are nothing but a pack of cards, that animals converse intelligently while messing about in boats, or that a magic ring can make its bearer invisible at the long, slow cost of his soul. But once these laws are set down, the writer cannot, on a whim, set them aside. They must work in the fantasy world as surely as gravity works in ours."

2. Limit the powers of magic.

For dramatic impact, as important as the powers of magic are its limitations. If magic is all-powerful, if a wand is waved and all problems are instantly solved, the plot is pointless. Where is the narrative tension in that?

In the Harry Potter books, Harry's nemesis, Lord Voldemort, has great powers, but even so, those powers are limited. Lord Voldemort must plan his moves carefully. He must recruit minions to help him carry out evil deeds. He must retreat, wait, and choose to strike at just the right time. And he is constantly thwarted.

What will the limitations on magic be? To be effective, magic might require some very specific set of actions, tools, or knowledge, or the participation of multiple characters, or any limitation that makes the story more interesting and draws out the tension and builds our fears that things won't work out for our beloved heroes.

Perhaps magic loses its potency with distance from a source. Or perhaps it can only be used in certain conditions, or only for certain purposes. It might require a zen-like approach: a complete clearing of the mind, as in Philip Pullman's The Golden Compass, where young Lyra must carefully put her mind at rest before she asks a question of the magical device.

These creative limitations can be as interesting as the magic itself.

3. Make the magic fresh and interesting.

As author Garth Nix has said, magic should be more interesting than using an electric stove or a rifle. Readers delight in inventiveness.

Curious variants of magic range from using origami for magical spells (Paper Mage, by Leah Cutler), or turning a man's head into the head of an ass (Shakespeare), or making a magical harp or fiddle from the bones of a dead woman that tells the tale of a murder (an old folktale found in many cultures).

On the other hand, any common device -- a mirror, a wand -- can be interesting if used in a fresh way.

In Ursula Le Guin's book Gifts, the magical talents of hill-folk families range from calling animals to the power known as "the unmaking," which is described with chilling effect in this passage:

"My father stood above the barrel, gazing down steadily into it. He moved his hand, his left hand, and said something or breathed sharply out. The rat squirmed once, shuddered, and floated on the water. I touched it. It was soft, without bones, like a little half-filled sack of meal inside its thin wet skin. 'It is unmade,' my father said, his eyes on mine, and I was afraid of his eyes then."

4. Make magic applicable to the story.

This should be obvious. But I've seen too many manuscripts where magical events happen in a scene that is truly astounding to all, and then the characters go on to the next thing little changed, barely seeming even to remember the amazing things that just happened. Magic should have a considerable impact on characters to make the story more interesting, not just be a cool factor or a card to play and forget.

In The Lord of the Rings, for instance, the likable Frodo carries the ring for a long time. It makes sense that he is increasingly affected by it, psychologically, especially as he enters Mordor. What are the effects of magic? Whether it is good or bad magic, the effects should not be indifferent.

Ask how the magic transforms the characters -- or even the entire world. Here is another passage by Le Guin, from A Wizard of Earthsea. Young Ged's mentor, the Master Hand, tells the fledgling mage: "A wizard's power of Changing and of Summoning can shake the balance of the world. It is dangerous, that power. It is most perilous. It must follow knowledge and serve need. To light a candle is to cast a shadow..."

5. Offer imagery to help us visualize your magic in action.

If someone in your book is magically transformed or uses magic, can you show us how it works or how it feels? Consider this passage from Gifts by Le Guin:

"'But what does it feel like, to use it?'

[Canoc, Orrec's father] frowned and thought a long time before he spoke. His left hand moved a little, involuntarily. 'As if you were a knot at the center of a dozen lines, all of them drawn into you, and you holding them taut. As if you were a bow, but with a dozen bowstrings. And you draw them in tighter, and they draw on you, till you say, 'Now!' And the power shoots out like the arrow.'"

That's a description of magic! It's rich with the tangible imagery and cadence of poetry -- the kind of writing that those who read Le Guin's novels are hooked on.

6. Make magic uncertain.

If magic is so powerful, it follows that it is not always fully understood. Magic should be accompanied by mystery.

Magic is powerful, and often uncertain, even dangerous, even to its own practitioners. What are the costs, feelings, problems, weaknesses, mishaps? In some stories, this leads to comic results: magicians are absent-minded, prone to misconjuring, and sorely in need of malpractice insurance. In The Sorcerer's Apprentice, the magic at first is helpful, but once let loose, causes havoc.

In the Harry Potter stories, magic is a long, complex learning curve. It must be done just so, or risk failure, at first with comical effects as the Hogwarts students botch their lessons and wrestle with unruly magical herbs, snarling creatures, and spells that backfire or fizzle. But as the stakes are elevated, any misstep risks loss of life, limb, happiness, or potentially total catastrophe.

7. Never make the magic greater than the underlying human story.

In the end, human elements should prevail.

For example, in The Wonderful Wizard of Oz, in the end what prevails is Dorothy's most human desire, to go home to Auntie Em and Uncle Henry, back to the dry but familiar Kansas plains. The clicking of the slippers (ruby in the movie, silver in the book) and the magical journey back are less important than Dorothy's true love for home and family. The magic in this case is indeed out of the blue, but the theme of home is not.

To build a magical system for your story, ask yourself how to create the most interesting magic. Play with all the options: mechanical devices, potions, spoken spells, acute senses, inner gifts, every possible tiny miracle or great tornado of magic.

Then, limit it! And make the magic more central to the story. See how your characters are influenced by the course of magic. Have fun with it!

But in the end, let the human elements win out. That is the real magic: to be able to create anything you can imagine, to create the most powerful magical wand in the world of fiction, but then figure out how to use it in a way to make a story more interesting, not less so.

[writingadvice1]

The writer is both a sadist and a masochist. We create people we love, and then we torture them. The more we love them, and the more cleverly we torture them along the lines of their greatest vulnerability and fear, the better the story. Sometimes we try to protect them from getting booboos that are too big. Don’t. This is your protagonist, not your kid.

Janet Fitch

[fyeahwriterleopard]

[writingadvice1]

fyeahwriterleopard:

(submitted by anotherjoshpark)