Learning from a master

I’ve been reviewing my non-fiction manuscript and have decided to change the beginning. I’ve always felt like the beginning of the story lets me down a bit. Given that the MS I’m talking about was my first attempt at creative writing, it’s not surprising that my writing improved as the story progresses. While I think some of the storyline which takes place in the beginning needs to remain in the novel, there’s no need to be linear about these things. I was thinking about my options this morning and realised that I could weave it into the story later as a bit of a flashback.

As a reader, I sometimes find flashbacks an irritating and unnecessary distraction. So in an attempt to hone my skill at transporting the reader to an earlier time in my story, I’ve decided to learn from a master. To that end, I went searching this morning for my John Irving novels. While he is a master of the flashback, his skill being particularly good in A Widow for One Year.  I remember reading that book and being so asborbed in his lenghty but absolutely seemless flashbacks that when the story returned to the present time, I had completely forgotten about it.

Wish me luck and I embark on the daunting journey of chopping and changing the first third of my novel. Seriously though – I’m just glad to be working again.

Whole Worlds

Cover page of the Children of Tamal

One of the hardest parts in writing Sci-fi/ fantasy, for me anyway, was knowing where to draw the line between providing enough information about your version of the world for readers that they understand and yet not flood them with irrelevant and boring data.

You can work out the full political system, but do they need to know that the Council only rules in the King’s stead while he is mad? Maybe. Do they need to know that it is the Council that determines whether or not the King is mad? Eventually, especially if the plot involves him trying to reclaim his throne. But when, where and how? These are questions you always need to ask.

So what are the alternatives? Here are  few examples of how.

 

• Third person observation – his reading of the fading calligraphy gave him but one answer, it was the Council that decided the King’s ability to rule.
• Third person conversation – upon reading of the crumbling scrolls, the ambassador looked across and his friend, “It looks like it is the Council that decides.”
• First person thoughts – “So how would he prove himself sane to those that stood to lose the most by it?”

Sometimes the where takes care of itself. If the opening scene is the King’s determination to return to his rightful place as ruler, then start telling them right away. If you mean it to be the final plot twist, then near the end makes sense.  But you can foreshadow – i.e. give hints.

Foreshadowing can be difficult. It often makes sense to you, but for those that haven’t spent ages immersing themselves in your world, it can be a confusing irrelevance that stops them reading long before the actual moment is in play.

The best advice I was ever given by my editors was to give it to a friend to read. Someone that will be ruthlessly honest and hasn’t ever heard you ramble on about the world before. They can be hard to find, but well worth it. If your book is suitable, I find a twelve year old is a perfect blend of ruthless and is unlikely to have been listening to you even if you did talk about it. Maybe mine will still be that way when she is old enough to read my books. Sigh.

Elevator Pitch by Christine Duncan

The elevator pitch is useful to a writer at just about any stage. If you really want to sell your book–work on your elevator pitch. If the book is published but you’re trying to interest readers,(sell your book) work on your elevator speech.

The difference is, I think it’s easier when you’re not published yet. The elevator speech for an unpubbed writer should be short–really short. And it should be fun and pique interest. Think of it as a tweet for Twitter. Okay that sounds hard if you got a complicated plot and hero/heroine. But it’s important. You’ll use the elevator speech at conferences where you are trying to interest editors and agents and you use it in your cover letter. So it’s a little intimidating. You don’t want to stammer here.

Trust me though. Perfecting an elevator pitch tends to boil down what you think is important about your novel. That can really help you when you’re sitting down to write too–almost like goal statements, it tends to concentrate things. I know one writer who keeps her elevator pitch right in front, taped to her monitor so she doesn’t veer off track.

If you’re wondering why it should be so important consider this scenario: You come in and sit down in front of an editor stammering, “Well, uh, my work in progress is about this guy who ah, he doesn’t like himself much and ah….” (Yeah, the editor is bored already,and if you weren’t sweating it so badly, you would be too.) Or you can say, “I’ve got a techno-vampire mystery where the hero is troubled by his vampirism, has a mortal love interest who isn’t aware of his problem and is also trying to track down some guy killing all the vampires.”

Not that that is a wonderful elevator speech, but it tells genre and sub-cross genres, gives a bit of the plot, tells the editor you know where you’re going. And you can actually spit it out if you do accidentally meet an editor in an elevator. .

By the time you’re published, people want longer elevator pitches. The typical one I’m asked for now is for radio, so it is usually around two minutes. You know, you can say a heck of a lot in two minutes. Or not enough. It takes practice.

Give it a try. Try it out on us! Give us your elevator speech.

Too Hot to Handle by Karen Fainges

Another Torchwood fan, I found myself sometimes flinching at the rawness of the latest episodes. I found myself wishing they had toned it down a little.

After the episodes, I had to face the fact that the show would not have been half as good without those confronting moments. It definitely made me want to watch it all over again.

My own books have some confronting thoughts in them and hopefully that makes people think. I do have to acknowledge that some will just put the book down and never pick it up again. Others might send me hate mail (hasn’t happened yet) but I wouldn’t take those bits out for all the book sales in the world. The characters can make statements I can not. Sci-fi has often broached new areas – Star Trek and the first inter-racial kiss showed on TV (Kirk and Uhurah) is a notable one but there are many others. For some reason, when the person is green (or in my case purple), people allow them to break through those barriers a lot more readily.

I wonder why that is?

So what shouldn’t we put in books - death? How about sex? How about disabilities? How about taboos? Rude words? My books hold all of the above, but not for the shock factor, I find that tacky. No, because it is a large part of the characters and plot. And perhaps – that is how we tell when the line should be drawn.

Talk about the weather

Destiny Sets - read the first chapter free online

My mother always told me don’t talk about religion or politics. You’ll only get into arguments. So what about when you are writing? Should you mention them then?

I feel a hearty Yes coming on.

After all, you are not supposed to talk about those things because they lead to arguments. People feel strongly about them. If you leave them out of your books, you leave a big hole in your characters.

So where do you draw the line between well rounded character and someone that is just a vehicle for your own beliefs?

The question holds the answer. Is this really the character speaking? Is that a legitimate point of view for them to have, and would they really say that out loud?

One of my favourite authors is John Ringo. His characters are often quite pronounced in their beliefs. Occasionally he can stray into the realms of proselytising  but it’s rare. (Or maybe it’s only when I disagree with him that I notice it.) Most of the times, it rings very true for the character, even if they are complete blow hards. And the characters around them treat them accordingly.

That is the other litmus test for me. Do the people around the character react in a realistic way? When proofing, I often try to put the other character’s hat on and think about their reaction while this is happening. It can drive your editor mad when your point of view shifts mid stream and you didn’t notice, but it really does make for a more realistic flow to the action.

So what do you think? Should we talk politics or the weather?

An Aha Moment

My second book (Safe House), is out in electronic version and about to come out in print, so in between promotion for that book, blogging here, and trying to write a new book, (see Narelle’s post on Writing Projects) I’m trying to spruce up book three (Safe Reunion) of the series to send out. I took the manuscript to critique as I wrote it and edited it like crazy so it should have been easy. The manuscript was fun, and light.  But it was only okay.  I didn’t love it.

So back in July, I entered the secret agent contest on Miss Snark’s first victim to see what other entrants and the agent would say about the first 250 words. (If you missed this contest, don’t blame me, I wrote about it here–but check out the blog, she may have more.)
It was a great help because the agent said this:”I wish we could have a little more of the narrator–I feel like I have a baseline on Patty but not Kaye.”

Hold on  a sec!  Say what?  I had violated a rule that I’ve known about for years.  I had failed to put down what Kaye, my heroine wanted–needed. Robert Olen Butler calls it yearning in “From Where You Dream, The Process of Writing Fiction.”  Dwight Swain and Jack Bickham (“Scene and Structure”) call it goal. What does the hero really want? What does the bad guy/antagonist want? It’s essential for the reader to know that if we want the reader to root for the home team. And I hadn’t put that in.

Naturally, I revised immediately–and I’m looking over the rest of the manuscript to make sure it remains in the forefront of every scene. I’m known in my critique groups for looking for just this thing.  Just a small statement of the long term (book) goal, helps get the book started. A statement in every scene about the short term desire (“All I really want,” said Rose as she trudged through the desert, “is to get out of this blasted sun.”) Wow! And I forgot.  I definitely am putting this one as number one on my “things to check when you do the final edit” list.

So what is on your list of things to check when you revise your final draft? What do you say in critique so often that all of your critique members KNOW you will thump them on it, if they forget?  Tell all here!