Category Archives: #writetip

Craft a Raptor Hero Not Villain

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Raptors are some of the most successful predators on the planet. From owls, eagles, and vultures to hawks, falcons, and other birds of prey, raptors are skilled hunters with incredible senses, like binocular vision, that help them detect prey at far distances.

The secretary bird even carries mouthfuls of water back to the nest for her young — one of the few avian species to quench a chicks’ thirst.

If a raptor was a character in a book, they seem like the perfect villain on the surface. After all, they kill and consume adorable critters like chipmunks, squirrels, mice, monkeys, birds, fish, and old or injured animals. As readers, we’d fear the moment their shadow darkened the soil.

What we may not consider right away is how tender raptors are with their young, or that they only take what they need to feed their family and keep the landscape free of disease from rotting meat and sick animals, or what majestic fliers they are. Raptors have many awe-inspiring abilities.

Take, for example, the Andean condor, the largest flying land bird in the western hemisphere. In the highest peaks of the majestic Andes, the largest raptor in the world hovers in the sky in search of its next meal — a carcass or old/injured animal to hunt. Andean condors have a wingspan of over ten feet. If one flew sideways through an average living room with eight-foot ceilings, the wings would drag on the floor!

How could we turn a massive predator like the Andean condor into a hero? It’s difficult to offset their hunting abilities and diet with the innocence of their prey, but not impossible.

A layered characterization holds the key. It doesn’t matter who your protagonist is or what they do. With proper characterization, a raptor or killer can play any role.

Go Deeper than the Three Dimensions of Character

1st dimension: The face they show to the world; a public persona
2nd dimension: The person they are at home and with close friends
3rd dimension: Their true character. If a fire broke out in a cinema, would they help others get out safely or elbow their way through the crowd?

A raptor-type character needs layers, each one peeled little by little over time to reveal the full picture of who they are and what they stand for. We also need to justify their actions so readers can root for them.

A perfect example is Dexter Morgan, vigilante serial killer and forensic blood spatter analyst for Miami Dade Police.

Why did the world fall in love with Dexter?

What makes Dexter so fascinatingly different is that he lives by a code when choosing his victims – they must, without a doubt, be murderers likely to strike again. But he didn’t always have this code. In the beginning, he killed to satisfy the sick impulses from his “dark passenger.” If it weren’t for Dexter’s adoptive father and police officer, Harry Morgan, who educated his son to control his need to kill and established tight guidelines for Dexter to follow (the code), he would have been the villain.

Readers accept his “dark passenger” because he’s ridding the world of other serial killers who could harm innocent people in the community. And that’s enough justification for us to root for him. We’re willing to overlook the fact that he revels in each kill and keeps trophies. We even join him in celebrating his murders — and never want him caught.

Jeff Lyndsay couldn’t have pulled this off if he showed all Dexter’s layers at the very beginning. It worked because he showed us pieces of Dexter Morgan over time.

The Characterization for Vigilante Killers Cannot be Rushed

When I created this type of character, he started as the villain for two and half novels while I dropped hints and pieces of truth like breadcrumbs. It wasn’t until halfway through book four that the full picture of who he really was and what motivated him became evident.

So, go ahead and craft a raptor as the protagonist of your story (as an antihero). When characters are richly detailed psychologically, readers connect to them. Perhaps a part of us wishes we could enact justice like they do.

If crafted with forethought and understanding, your raptor may become your most memorable character to date. Just go slow and really think about how much of their mind to reveal and when. Who knows? You may create a protagonist readers will analyze for years to come!

*Perhaps it’s unfair to draw a parallel between raptors and vigilante killers but the idea came to me while watching a nature documentary. Make no mistake, I adore raptors.

Have you ever crafted a raptor character aka antihero? Who’s your favorite antihero (movies or books)? And why?

 

Writing for Children

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When you’ve spent your entire career writing adult thrillers and true crime, switching to a children’s chapter book takes some getting used to. Jumping back and forth between the two is even more difficult. After struggling with both projects, I decided to stick with one till completion, then finish the other.

Because my chapter book is meticulously outlined and half-written, I chose to concentrate on that project first. Plus, a chapter book’s optimal range is 10,000 words — a fraction of the word-count of an environmental thriller.

When I read the opening sequence of my chapter book, it seemed too advanced for young readers. I needed to stop, home in on my target age group, and relax the language and pacing. After all, early readers don’t have the same mental acuity as adults. They need easier wins.

Children’s books are separated into three categories, all with different guidelines for word choices, pacing, viewpoints, and the amount and style of illustrations.

  • Picture books
  • Chapter books
  • Middle Grade

Picture Books

A standard picture book is 32 pages long.

Picture books follow a compact story arc with a beginning, middle, and end. Jump into the action quickly, introduce a problem, and have the main character solve it by the end. The “rule of three,” where a problem recurs three times before a solution is found, is a common and effective technique. Illustrations will convey much of the emotion and setting, so your text should focus on the action and dialogue. Avoid using words to describe what the illustrations show. A picture book is meant to be read aloud, so the language needs to have a natural rhythm and flow.

Ages 3-5: Around 500 words, these stories have simple language and relatable topics like starting school, picky eaters, or a nighttime routine. Illustrations consume the pages—big, bright, and fun.

Ages 4-8: These picture books can be slightly longer, up to 800 words, with a slightly more complex plot. Still, you’re limited, because the illustrations take center stage.

As a visual medium, the writer must consider how the story will unfold across two-page spreads.

Chapter Books

To write a chapter book, you need to develop relatable characters, create a simple yet engaging plot, and break the story into short, purposeful chapters that build a new reader’s confidence. A typical chapter book is aimed at the 7-10 year age group and has a word count between 5,000 and 15,000 words. The sweet spot is 10,000. This allows the writer more freedom than a picture book.

Chapter books fall between early readers and middle-grade novels. The target audience is a new independent reader who’s often supervised by an adult. A solid, unique story idea is the foundation of a successful chapter book—especially since many are written as a series—that includes the main plot and core theme(s).

If you include an ill-advised subplot, be careful not to divert focus from the main plot. The young reader is just beginning to get comfortable reading on their own. Making the story easy to understand and follow is essential. Sure, many chapter books are read aloud to an adult, but don’t rely on that. What if the child is reading alone?

A chapter book must have a full narrative arc. If you watch a plethora of animated films, you’ll see they’re all structured like an adult novel or movie. And so, that’s exactly what I did. The story should be action-packed with lots of dialogue to hold a new independent reader’s attention, but never leave the main character and sidekick in trouble for long. A flip of the page is more than enough suspense.

Around 48-80 pages, chapter books often include black-and-white illustrations at the beginning of each chapter or where you want to show the new reader what’s going on. For example, when I introduce a new animal character, I’ll include an illustration to cement that picture in the reader’s mind. Because the illustration is in black-and-white, I need only mention color rather than a detailed description.

Middle Grade Novel

Most middle grade novels are geared toward ages 8-12. They are the in-between books for readers who have outgrown chapter books and are too young to emotionally handle or enjoy themes and ideas found in young adult novels. Middle grade novels run about 30,000-55,000 words.

Young readers need to relate to the characters, but they don’t mind “reading up.” Meaning, the main cast should be in the upper range of the target age group. For some reason, 13 and 14 year-old characters are considered a no-no. They’re too old for middle grade novels (perhaps due to puberty?) and too young to star in YA.

If you choose to write in this genre, you may want to read this article about middle grade novels. In it, the author includes an important distinction:

“What may work for an 8-year-old likely won’t work for a 12-year-old. So although we bundle it all into middle grade, the genre actually has two sub groups. This is important to understand in order to know your audience when writing, and thus appropriately adjust your themes and word count.

Two Sub-Categories

  • Lower Middle Grade

Lower middle grade novels tend to be read by kids aged 8 to 10 years old. There may be a sub plot or two, but the main plot will dominate the focus, and all themes will certainly be G or PG rated.

  • Upper Middle Grade

Upper middle grade novels can have a higher word count, and will be read by children aged 10 to 13 years old. There will likely be a subplot or two that help to carry the story in a substantial way. Themes may be a bit more complex, or PG or PG-13 rated.”

Even though I spent quite a bit of time researching techniques for my new target audience, I enjoy the challenge of writing a children’s chapter book. It’s rewarding, fun, and exciting.

Have you ever considered writing for children? Do you write children’s books now? If so, for what age group? Any tips to share? Categorize your favorite children’s book and tell us why you loved it as a child.

ARGGH! Words We Love to Hate

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By Elaine Viets

You know, some words and phrases are getting on my nerves. Most people would say it is what it is and at the end of the day, let it go. I know, right? But I’ve been doing some online research. There are certain sayings that tick people off. And readers are people, too. You don’t want to turn off your readers with annoying phrases. Just sayin’.
These outstandingly irritating phrases are garnered from various corners of the web.
Think carefully before you use them in your writing. You may want to save them for your most hateful characters.

Just sayin’. The winner! Nearly everyone hates this redundant phrase. I mean, you’ve already said what you were going to say, right?

Literally. I confess I’ve used this one and thought it was pretty clever – the first time. Then I noticed that word in every novel I picked up – literally.

It is what it is. This meaningless phrase is enough to send me screaming into the night. Please don’t use it.

At this moment in time. What’s wrong with “now”? Can this pretentious phrase.

Everything happens for a reason. Usually said after some meaningless tragedy, and meant as consolation. If you don’t have that comforting belief system, this phrase triggers an urge to slap that person silly. Also avoid this phrase: Whenever God closes a door, he opens a window. I had a roommate like that. Very annoying.

Honestly. Often a trigger word indicating the person using it is lying. Use it carefully.

My bad. A cutesy way of glossing over a mistake. This phrase says, “I know I did something offensive and I don’t care.”

I want 110 percent. Right, boss. Except your math doesn’t add up.

No worries. Some people find this phrase a little passive-aggressive. In other words, when someone says, “No worries,” they’re really telling you that you should be worried.

At the end of day. As in, “At the end of the day, getting a new CEO won’t make any difference. This company is doomed.” This crutch will cripple any sentence.

With all due respect. The warm-up to an insult. “With all due respect, even in your prime you weren’t that good.”

That’s my list, and it’s pretty good, in IMHO (oops, there’s another one.) Now’s your chance. What tired words and phrases would you like to see retired?

Now hear this! SEX AND DEATH ON THE BEACH, my new Florida Beach mystery, is now an audio book. https://tinyurl.com/9amkzaf4

First Page Critique – Fallen Starr

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by Debbie Burke

Welcome to another first page submitted by an anonymous Brave Author. Please read then we’ll discuss on the flip side.

 ~~~

Fallen Starr

Thriller

Starr’s gaze followed the barrel of the gun clenched in the mobster’s trembling white-knuckled grip, her eyes crossing from the effort. Deep shadows enveloped her in the narrow alley off St. Petersburg’s Nevsky Avenue, while the dim, jaundiced glow from the solitary streetlight bled into the darkness.

Crumbling brick walls and weathered cobblestones, slick from a recent downpour, boxed her in. Dripping water reverberated into the twilight, interrupted only by the distant cry of some poor soul. Echoes of fading footsteps sparked her fear that someone might stumble into the alley before she got what she wanted.

Her assailant’s eyes widened, pupils blown out to the edges with a glimmer of paranoia, most likely a result of the street drug Krokodil. He blinked slowly as if the action required immense effort, each movement sluggish and delayed. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and his skin glistened under the faint light. As his trigger finger twitched, Starr’s heart hammered against her ribcage as she swallowed a bitter taste of dread.

“Traitor.” His voice dripped with contempt.

That one word pierced harder than it should. Traitor. She could almost laugh at the irony. If the world only knew how far she’d already fallen. As her chosen name suggested, like a falling star, she had blazed a meteoric path from the heavens alongside one-third of the angels who’d foolishly followed Lucifer’s glorious but doomed light. But after her burning descent, her journey had become a slow, winding climb, as she searched for redemption.

“Long is the way and hard that out of hell leads up to light.” John Milton’s epic poem rang in her ears. But right now, she was far from any light.

Starr turned down the corners of her lips and tilted her head. “Traitor? That hurts my feelings.”

It did indeed. In her quest for redemption, she had made tough choices, turning her back on the other fallen angels. Her current situation in this foul alley had sunk to a similar low.

The air was thick with the stench of rancid garbage. Twisted shadows cast by an old wrought-iron fire escape danced across an overturned dumpster spilling its contents onto the cobblestones. The shade of the bars concealed—was that a headless rat?

A writhing heap of maggots feasting on the rodent forced her to part her lips and take shallow breaths through her mouth.

~~~

First off, kudos to the Brave Author (BA) for a clean submission free of typos.

This is a solid action start, landing the reader smack in the middle of a frightening situation. A gun is aimed at the protagonist, brandished by a man who appears to be a twitchy addict.

It’s nighttime and the location is described with an abundance of sensory detail: sights (“jaundiced glow”), touch (slick cobblestones), sound (dripping water reverberating, a cry, fading footfalls), taste (“bitter dread), and smell (“rancid garbage”).

Nevsky Avenue is a good specific detail, but I wondered whether it referred to St. Petersburg in Florida or in Russia. I googled Nevsky Avenue and discovered a live webcam that shows real-time action on the Russian street.

BTW, TKZers, live webcams are helpful tools for writers to visualize locations, as are street views on Google Earth. If you’re unfamiliar with the lay of the land or need to refresh your recollection of a place you visited in the past, check these out.

BA does a good job of grounding the reader in a few paragraphs. We know where and when the action is taking place. There’s an immediate threat—an armed assailant who has a serious beef with the hero.

Starr is not only in physical danger. She describes what may be metaphorical or spiritual danger. She says she’s a fallen angel struggling on a path to redemption. That makes me wonder if the story has fantasy elements, although it’s categorized as a thriller. Mashups between genres can work well and are popular with current readers.

BA has packed a lot into one page and therein lies the problem. It’s too much, too soon.

While attempting to immerse the reader immediately in the story, BA instead threatens to drown us. It felt like trying to drink from a firehose—a cliche but an apt one.

Slow down and dribble information rather than deluge the reader. Make the reader thirsty for more.

My suggestion is to limit descriptions to a couple of senses rather than all five at once. Choose the best image to sum up the setting and delete the rest. It’s night in a dark cobblestone alley after a recent rain, and there’s a headless rat with maggots feasting on it. That does the job. The reader’s imagination fills in the rest.

Strong verbs are generally good, but here they’re overused. In the first two paragraphs: enveloped, bled, boxed, reverberated, sparked. They draw attention to themselves and pull the reader out of the story. Again, choose the best one and skip the rest.

The description of Starr’s assailant also overwhelms the reader with too many details. I suggest you pare it down to the most vivid, telling detail. Here’s a possible rewrite:

His eyes widened, pupils blown out to the edges with a glimmer of paranoia, most likely from a result of the street drug Krokodil, the cheap Russian homebrew version of heroin.

I had to look up Krokodil. It’s apparently common in Russia but not so much in other countries. That’s why I suggest adding a bit more explanation to clarify it’s not just another street drug. It’s somewhat unique to the location and cooked by the user, rather than purchased as a finished product from a dealer.

That detail is important because it makes the reader curious about Starr. How does she know about Krokodil? Is she a user, a dealer, an undercover officer?

The character of Starr as a fallen angel is intriguing but again it’s overdone. Let’s take another look at this paragraph of inner monologue.

That one word pierced harder than it should. Traitor. She could almost laugh at the irony. If the world only knew how far she’d already fallen. As her chosen name suggested, like a falling star, she had blazed a meteoric path from the heavens alongside one-third of the angels who’d foolishly followed Lucifer’s glorious but doomed light. But after her burning descent, her journey had become a slow, winding climb, as she searched for redemption.

How much of this does the reader need to know at this stage of the story? An accusation that she’s a traitor is intriguing. So is that she’s a fallen angel struggling for redemption.

What the world knows about her fall, the significance of her name, a meteoric path with one-third of other fallen angels who followed Lucifer, a burning descent, and a slow, winding climb—all this information can be saved for later.

Simply using dialogue shows enough about her character to make the reader curious.

“Traitor,” he said (get rid of the cliche “dripped with contempt”).

Starr turned down the corners of her lips and tilted her head. “Traitor? That hurts my feelings.”

What is her tone of voice? Is she being sarcastic? Cocky? Trying to provoke him? Saying something, anything to distract him from shooting her?

Instead of overexplaining her guilt complex, keep the reader wondering and turning the page.

“Long is the way and hard that out of hell leads up to light.” John Milton’s epic poem lingered in Starr’s mind. But right now, she was far from any light.

These lines struck me because they establish Starr’s conflict without overwhelming the reader. However, the current placement confuses the reader because it appears to continue earlier dialogue between the assailant and Starr.

What if you used these lines as the opener instead?

It’s a difficult judgment call to choose which details are important enough to be on the first page and which can be saved until later. The goal is to intrigue the reader, to tease them into wanting to learn more, but not overpower them.

Ask yourself: how much does the reader need to know and when do they need to know it? Don’t get rid of extra info. Save it for later. Decide when to slip in a detail here or a hint there.

As you review this page, also watch out for cliches and delete them. White knuckles, sweat beaded on the forehead, heart hammering her ribs, voice dripping with contempt—these don’t add to the story and detract from the interesting fallen angel concept.

Brave Author, please don’t be discouraged by this critique. You have a compelling idea, an unusual, exotic setting, and a character with an immediate problem. You start with dramatic action. Those are all positive qualities.

Please realize you don’t have to explain everything at once. Take your time.

Thank you for submitting this first page and best of luck with your story!

~~~

TKZers: As a reader with fresh eyes, what is your reaction to this page? What suggestions do you have for the Brave Author?

~~~

Debbie Burke’s new reference book The Villain’s Journey-How to Create Villains Readers Love to Hate is now available in print as well as ebook.

Amazon: Print book   Ebook

Barnes & Noble: Print book   Ebook

Apple: Ebook

Kobo: Ebook

Steinbeck on Writing

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

I read Of Mice and Men in high school and was wiped out for a week. I’ve seen the 1939 movie adaptation only once, in college, and I can’t watch it again.

That’s storytelling power. John Steinbeck had it.

So I thought it might be of interest here to share some of his writing advice via an interview in The Paris Review. I’ve added some comments, which is rather cheeky considering Mr. Steinbeck is a Nobel Prize ahead of me. But here goes anyway:

  1. Abandon the idea that you are ever going to finish. Lose track of the 400 pages and write just one page for each day, it helps. Then when it gets finished, you are always surprised.

JSB: I like this. It’s similar to what Ann Lamott counsels in Bird by Bird, i.e., the “one inch frame.” Just face your daily writing, with full attention. If you do this faithfully, at some point you’ll look up and see a full novel. And that’s a very nice feeling.

  1. Write freely and as rapidly as possible and throw the whole thing on paper. Never correct or rewrite until the whole thing is down. Rewrite in process is usually found to be an excuse for not going on. It also interferes with flow and rhythm which can only come from a kind of unconscious association with the material.

JSB: I somewhat agree. I am a planner, and once I get going I want to finish that first draft as rapidly as I can. However, I do edit my previous day’s work. I sharpen it, and it gets me back in flow.

  1. Forget your generalized audience. In the first place, the nameless, faceless audience will scare you to death and in the second place, unlike the theater, it doesn’t exist. In writing, your audience is one single reader. I have found that sometimes it helps to pick out one person—a real person you know, or an imagined person and write to that one.

JSB: I don’t think about readers, plural or singular, when I write. I think about the characters. I think about the market when I nurture and idea. I want a concept that will appeal to sizable slice of folks who have discretionary income to spend on books. But once I’ve put that concept into motion in a novel, I’m involved only with the characters and how they get out of trouble.

  1. If a scene or a section gets the better of you and you still think you want it—bypass it and go on. When you have finished the whole you can come back to it and then you may find that the reason it gave trouble is because it didn’t belong there.

JSB: This is good advice, so long as  you’re not doing it a lot. If you do, there’s going to be a much bigger mess at the end than there was at the beginning. If you have too many scenes that are not “working,” the problem may be in the structural foundations or in scene writing itself.

  1. Beware of a scene that becomes too dear to you, dearer than the rest. It will usually be found that it is out of drawing.

JSB: I believe “out of drawing” is an art term which means an element that doesn’t fit. “Kill your darlings” is another way to put it. But this advice has always puzzled me. Maybe that scene that’s dear to you is the best one in the book. I think the only test is, Does it work in the story? Does it slow things down? Are you showing off?

JSB Axiom: Don’t write to impress your readers. Write to distress your characters.

  1. If you are using dialogue—say it aloud as you write it. Only then will it have the sound of speech.

JSB: I prefer to write dialogue and let it flow. When I edit the dialogue, that’s when I might say it out loud, or listen to the text.

So what do you think of this advice, TKZers?
Have you read much Steinbeck? How does he rate with you?

Fluff, Flab, and Filler

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Canada wildfires are affecting the air quality in my area. The National Weather Service wrote, “acceptable; however, the air quality may pose a moderate health concern for a very small number of individuals.”

Strange statement, considering three out of four of my closest friends feel like they have a sinus infection or head cold. I wouldn’t classify 75% as a “very small number of individuals.” Also, who writes for the National Weather Service? Can’t be a professional writer, or “very small” wouldn’t be the term they used.

Substitutes for “very small”

  • Tiny
  • Minuscule
  • Minute
  • Few
  • Diminutive
  • Limited
  • Trifling
  • Teensy-weensy
  • Slight

The subject of fluff arose last week while I was reading a brand new writer’s partial manuscript, including a prologue that was all backstory—important for her to know but irrelevant to the reader.

Rather than teach her how to tighten her writing, I focused on scene structure and techniques to force her characters to do something, anything. After several pages of notes, the fluff conversation could wait. The last thing I wanted was to obliterate a young writer’s dreams. Instead, I gave her a gentle nudge in the right direction.

For those farther along in their journey or career, recognizing fluff is an important subject. Those pesky buggers that sneak into first drafts and weaken our writing are better known as filler words and phrases aka fluff or flab.

If a filler word serves a purpose, such as to enhance characterization in dialogue, keep it. The objective is to tighten the writing by eliminating unnecessary words or phrases that might distract the reader.

Filler/Fluff/Flab Words 

Just

Just should almost always be deleted.

Original: I just couldn’t bear to say goodbye.

Rewrite: I couldn’t bear to say goodbye.

That

That litters many first drafts, but it can often be deleted without any harm to the original sentence.

Original: I believe that all writers should kill their darlings.

Rewrite: All writers should kill their darlings.

The original sentence has another problem. Did you catch it? Believe in this context is a telling word. Any time we tell the reader things like “I thought” or “He knew” or “She felt” or “I believe,” we slip out of deep POV. Thus, the little darling must die, as I did in the rewrite.

So

Original: So, this huge guy glared at me in the coffee line.

Rewrite: This musclebound, no-necked guy glared at me in the coffee line.

Confession: I use “so” all the time IRL. It’s also one of the (many) writing tics I search for in my work. The only exception to eliminating this, or any other, filler word is if it’s used with purpose, like as a character cue word.

Really

Original: She broke up with him. He still really loves her.

Sometimes removing filler means combining or rewording sentences.

Rewrite: When she severed their relationship, his heart weakened.

Very

We’ve established where the National Weather Service went wrong with very, but I’ll include it anyway.

Original: He made me very happy.

Rewrite: When he neared, my skin tingled.

Of

To determine if “of” is necessary read the sentence with and without it. Makes sense without it? Delete. Doesn’t? Keep it.

Original: She bolted out of the door.

Rewrite: She bolted out the door.

Up (following an action)

Original: He stood up tall.

Rewrite: He stood tall.

Down (following an action)

Original: He sat down on the sofa.

Rewrite: He sat on the sofa.

Want(ed)

Want/wanted are telling words. Rewrite to preserve deep POV.

Original: I really wanted the chocolate cake.

Substitute with a strong verb, such as: I drooled over the chocolate cake. One bite. What could it hurt?

Came/Went

Both are filler words because they’re not specific enough.

Original: I went to the store to buy my favorite ice cream.

Rewrite: I raced to Marco’s General Store to feed my craving for coffee ice cream.

Had

Too many had words give the impression the action took place prior to the main storyline. If it is used in a flashback, one had in the opening sentence signals the beginning, one at the end closes the scene. But if it’s clear the action occurred in the past, had can often be omitted.

Original: I had gazed at the painting for hours, waiting for the eyes to move.

Rewrite: For hours, I gazed at the painting. The eyes never moved.

Well (to start a sentence)

Original: Well, the homecoming queen attended the dance without the homecoming king.

Rewrite: The homecoming queen attended the dance, stag.

Literally/Basically

Original: I basically had to drag her out of the bar by her hair.

Rewrite: I dragged her out of the bar by her hair.

Original: I literally laundered money today. Still plucking bills from the lint filter.

Rewrite: I laundered money today. Still plucking bills from the lint filter.

Actually

Original: Actually, I did mind.

Rewrite: I minded.

Highly

Original: She was highly annoyed by his presence.

Rewrite: His presence infuriated her.

Totally

Original: I totally didn’t understand a word.

Rewrite: Huh? *kidding* I didn’t understand a word. Was that English?

And any other -ly adverb. Can you substitute with a strong verb or noun instead?

Anyway (to start a sentence)

Original: Anyway, I hope you laughed, loved, and lazed on your summer vacation.

Rewrite: I hope you laughed, loved, and lazed on your summer vacation.

Fluff Phrases

Most of these phrases should be omitted. If used for a purpose, like to enhance characterization with a catch phrase, feel free to keep it. Otherwise, delete. It’s even more important to eliminate fluff if you’re still developing your voice.

A bit

Original: The movie was a bit intense. Lots of blood.

Rewrite: Intense movie. Blood galore.

There is no doubt that

Original: There is no doubt that football season begins in the fall.

Rewrite: Football season begins in the fall.

The reason is that

Original: The reason is that I said you can’t go.

Rewrite: Because I said so, that’s why (shout-out to moms everywhere!).

The question as to whether

Original: The question as to whether the moon will rise again is irrelevant.

Rewrite: Whether the moon will rise again is irrelevant.

Whether or not

Original: Whether or not you agree is not my problem.

Or worse: Whether you agree or not is not my problem.

Rewrite: Whether you agree is not my problem.

This is a topic that

Original: This is a topic that is close to my heart.

Rewrite: This topic is close to my heart.

In spite of the fact 

Original: In spite of the fact that he said he loved you, he’s married.

Rewrite: Although he professed his love, he’s married.

Or: Despite that he claimed to love you, he’s married.

The fact that

Original: The fact that he has not succeeded means he cannot do the job.

Rewrite: His failure proves he cannot do the job.

In order to

Original: In order to pay bills online, you need internet access.

Rewrite: To pay bills online, you need internet access.

At the end of the day

Original: At the end of the day, we’re all human.

Rewrite: We’re human. Fallible.

Not gonna lie

This phrase irritates me, is overused by the younger crowd, and only raises questions.

  • Why would you lie? We’re having a friendly conversation.
  • Never considered you’d lie, but now I’m suspicious.

Original: Not gonna lie, that chocolate cake almost killed me.

Rewrite: That chocolate cake almost killed me.

I’ve joined the crowd affected by air pollutants from the wildfires. Please bear with me today. Not feeling my best. But don’t let that stop you from adding filler words & phrases I missed.

The Backwards Law for Writers

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I stumbled across the subject of The Backwards Law by accident—a happy accident that led me to The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck. Excellent book that I devoured in two sittings.

The Backwards Law proposes the more we pursue something, the less satisfied we become. For writers, the constant pursuit of “more” causes us to feel horrible about where we are and what we’ve achieved. The harder we try, the less likely we are to succeed.

On the surface, it seems like the opposite of perseverance, doesn’t it? But it’s not. The Backwards Law goes much deeper than that.

Think of it this way:

  • Trying too hard to be creative or write something brilliant often leads to writer’s block, self-doubt, and a feeling of being disconnected from the work.
  • Only focusing on the end result—recognition, success, publication—causes unnecessary anxiety and pressure.
  • The fear of making mistakes or writing poorly will paralyze a writer and often will lead to abandoning the WIP.

“Wanting a positive experience is a negative experience; accepting a negative experience is a positive experience.” Mark Manson – The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck.

Alan Watts, the philosopher who coined the phrase, describes The Backwards Law as being in a lake. If you relax and put your head back, you’ll float. But the more you struggle and flail to try to stay afloat, the more you will sink.

Often our search for “more” has the opposite effect. It shines a spotlight on what we lack.

Life Examples

  • The more we cling to a loved one, the more they will feel suffocated and in need of space.
  • The more we obsess about accumulating money, the more poor and unworthy we will feel.
  • The more we pursue trying to feel happier all the time, the more we will reinforce this idea that we are fundamentally lacking and irreparable.

Do you even know what you want?

Sure, selling millions of copies of your book sounds great, but is that why you wrote it? Or maybe, you can’t define what you’re chasing. You just want more.

“Two reasons that you don’t really know what you want. Number one: you have it. Number two: you don’t know yourself, because you never can. The Godhead is never an object of its own knowledge, just as a knife doesn’t cut itself, fire doesn’t burn itself, light doesn’t illuminate itself.” ~ Alan Watts

In The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck, Mark Manson tells the story of a talented young guitarist who was kicked out of his band in 1983, after they had just been signed by a record label. No warning. No reason given. No discussion. They woke him up and handed him a bus ticket.

After much self-pity on the ride home to LA, the guitarist vowed to start a new group that would be so successful, his old band would seethe with jealously. And so, with only that thought in mind, he worked tirelessly to find the best musicians. He wrote dozens of songs. Practiced day and night. Revenge became his muse.

Within two years, a record label signed his new band. One year later, their first record went gold. The guitarist’s name? Dave Mustaine, lead guitarist in the heavy metal band Megadeath, which went on to sell over 25 million albums and tour the world many times. Mustaine is considered one of the most influential musicians in the history of heavy metal music.

Sounds like the story has a happy ending, right?

Not quite.

The band who kicked him out was Metallica, which has sold over 180 million albums worldwide and is considered by many to be one of the greatest rock bands of all time.

Because of Metallica’s fame, Mustaine considered himself a failure. Despite all he’d accomplished, in his mind, he would always be the guy who got kicked out of Metallica and nothing more. Whether he realized it or not, Mustaine used Metallica’s success and popularity as his life-defining measuring stick. Even after all of Megadeath’s success, he could never be happy, because he based his self-worth and music career on something he had no control over.

This story perfectly illustrates The Backwards Law in action.

Accept imperfection and you’ll feel perfect. Accept loneliness and you’ll feel content alone. Accepting a negative experience is a positive experience. But fighting a negative experience means you’ll suffer twice.

  • When we stop trying to be happy, we’ll be happy because there’s nothing we need beyond what is.
  • When we stop trying to be rich or massively successful, we’ll live in abundance because we’re content with what we have and anything on top of that is a bonus.

Thus, the only way to have what we want is not to want it. And that’s what The Backwards Law teaches us.

Being aware of the workings of The Backwards Law doesn’t mean that we should never set goals, never have ambitions, or never chase our dreams. Rather, The Backwards Law teaches us not to be fooled by the idea that the pursuit of happiness (whatever that looks like to you) leads to happiness. When in fact, the opposite is true. And with that knowledge, we’re able to enter the blissful state of enjoying the journey.

“The mystery of life is not a problem to be solved but a reality to be experienced.” ~ Alan Watts

How do we get what we want without trying?

Depends on what we want. If we strive to write the best damn book we can, the following tips should help.

Mindful Writing: Practice mindfulness while writing. It’ll help you become more aware of your thoughts and feelings without judgment, allowing you to be more present in the moment.

Step Away: It’s okay to step away from the WIP to clear your head. Go for a walk. Take a shower. Read a book. Exercise. I do this all the time when I’m working out a plot issue. Nine times out of ten, the answer reveals itself as soon as I stop thinking about it.

Accept Imperfection: Give yourself permission to make mistakes in early drafts. It’ll allow you to experiment and explore different ideas without fear.

Stay Present: Enjoy the journey of bringing your idea to life. Have fun with your characters. Revel in that perfect sentence or paragraph you wrote yesterday, then continue on.

The Backwards Law for writers is about shifting from a place of striving and pressure to a place of flow and acceptance. 

By letting go of the need to control the outcome and embrace the process, we’ll unlock creativity and produce more authentic and fulfilling work.

Have you heard of The Backwards Law? It’s as true for writing as it is for life.

Immersion Technique #WriteTip

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Every character is the hero of their own story. Even the villain.

We’ve talked many times about the importance of fleshing out characters. This time let’s reframe the narrative for those who may not grasp the finer details of crafting a compelling villain.

It’s easy to tell a fellow writer to slip into the villain’s skin and view the world through their eyes—I’ve given the same advice—but for those who haven’t mastered characterization, it may not be enough.

  • How does one craft a killer when they’ve never committed a crime?
  • How can we champion a villain’s efforts with no real-world experience?

Sure, we can draw conclusions and make assumptions. Is that enough for readers?

  • Is there a way to pull from life experience, to really feel what it’s like to transform into somebody else?

Yes, there is. And it’s called immersion. Method actors use the same technique.

The dictionary defines immersion as “deep mental involvement.” It can also mean engagement, as in a mixture of how much you’re paying attention, how submerged you are in an experience, and how it affects you emotionally.

Immersion, whether real or imagined, taps into fundamental psychological principles like perception, emotional engagement, and the sense of presence. It involves a combination of sensory stimuli, cognitive engagement, and emotional resonance that creates a feeling of being completely absorbed in the experience.

Immersive experiences are rich and complex, drawing upon personal experiences, and engage with emotions through the manipulation of the five senses. They’re described as transformational, intense, sometimes hectic, and provoking.

What we see tells us a lot about the world around us, but what the body experiences is much more powerful.

How we immerse ourselves in a life unlike our own starts with walking in their shoes. Listen to the villain’s favorite music. Eat their favorite foods. View the world through their eyes.

  • What’s their culture like?
  • What’s their theme song?
  • What’s their religion, politics, and views on other hot topics?
  • Do they like the rain? Cold weather? Scorching hot sun?
  • Are they happy with where they live? Or have they been trying to escape the area for years?
  • What do they do for a living? Do they have buddies at work?
  • Are they body conscious and drink water all day? Or do they drink black coffee till noon, then switch to scotch?
  • Do they smoke? I’m not proposing you start smoking but you can pretend.

Even if the character’s actions rub against your values and beliefs, you must find at least one redeeming quality, or at least be able to empathize with a part of them.

Take Ed Kemper, for example. His mother was a severe alcoholic who favored his two sisters and never missed the chance to belittle him. Ed’s father, a World War II veteran, hated his wife. The couple divorced when Ed was still in grammar school.

Living with his mother was no picnic. She locked him in the cellar for days and/or weeks at a time—alone—a bare lightbulb hanging from a wire in the center of the dark and creepy space. Since the door locked from the outside, the only way out was through a trap door beneath the dining room table.

Trapped, Ed lay on the cold cement floor staring into the flame of the furnace. And it was then, he later told an FBI profiler, he saw the face of the Devil for the first time. That period of his life exacerbated his already fractured mind.

Later, at age 14, his father sent him to live with his grandparents in California. Interestingly, Maude (grandmother) was an extra in Gone with the Wind and a writer for Redbook McCall’s. Even so, Ed hated living there, calling his grandfather “senile” and his grandmother, well, this is how he described her…

“She thought she had more balls than any man and was constantly emasculating me and my grandfather to prove it. I couldn’t please her. It was like being in jail. I became a walking time bomb, and I finally blew.”

And blew he did, with the murder of his grandparents. Authorities sent him to Atascadero State Hospital, a maximum-security facility where doctors subjected him to various tests. One of which illuminated his genius IQ. They also diagnosed him as a paranoid schizophrenic.

In the six years he spent at the institution, he became one of the doctors’ favorite patients. They even allowed him to assist in conducting tests on other inmates, until 1969 when they released him into his mother’s care.

Big mistake. At 6 ft. 9 inches tall and 250 pounds, Ed was a mammoth with a genius IQ and a rage inside him.

After killing and decapitating six young women, he finally turned his wrath on Mother—the true source of his hatred—murdering, decapitating, and using her head as a dartboard. He also tore out Mother’s vocal cords and shoved them down the garbage disposal. When the disposal spat the gristly innards back out, he said to himself,

“That seems appropriate as much as she’d bitched and screamed and yelled at me over so many years.”

With his personal monster dead, Ed turned himself into police. He had no reason to kill anymore. He’s lived at California Medical Facility in Vacaville ever since. As a model inmate, he’s allowed to work as an audiobook narrator.

If Ed Kemper was a fictional villain, how would you make him the hero of his own story?

We’d need to focus on the abused little boy, alone and frightened, that still cried inside him and the personable guy who doctors adored. Does that mean I agree with what he did? Absolutely not. But as writers, we must find a way to justify his actions. We must. Otherwise, the villain will fall flat.

Now, don’t tell the reader what redeeming qualities you clung to while writing. Show them a tidbit here and there—just enough to pique curiosity and drive the plot—that make him feel more human. Or let the hero figure it out on their own.

If the villain is a series character, only reveal enough to intrigue and drive the plot. I did this with my serial killer named Mayhem. In three books, I showed him as a merciless serial killer. I also showed his love of animals, especially his sidekick Poe, the crow, and how tender he could be when caring for a wife stricken with ALS and his close relationship with his daughter and grandson.

Mayhem loves fine wine and is an expert chef, but he’s offended by bad language and numerous other things, especially rapists, cannibals, and child killers. Readers fell in love with Mayhem. Deeply in love. So much so, I had to transform him into an antihero in later books.

Readers understand, even champion, why he kills.

We did the same with Dexter. Who didn’t love to watch him murder other serial killers? Genius on Lindsay’s part.

Find a different angle for your villain. Copycats aren’t unique or memorable. Villains are some of the most difficult characters to craft because they do bad things. I also find villains and antiheroes the most rewarding to write.

The next time you craft a character vastly different from yourself, try immersion. It works for the entire cast, including heroes, sidekicks, foils, secondary characters, etc.

High Impact Interval Writing

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

My favorite philosopher/comedian is Steven Wright, master of the pithy weird-but-somehow-connected observation, such as, “I used to work in a fire hydrant factory. You couldn’t park anywhere near the place.”

He also invented a microwave fireplace. “You can lie down in front of a fire for the evening in two minutes.” (He also put instant coffee in a microwave and almost went back in time.)

Which reminds me that we are all pressed for time these days (I’ve determined to work 25 hours a day on my book, which means I have to get up an hour earlier).

This goes for keeping the ol’ bod in shape. Which is why I’m into HIIT. That stands for “high impact interval training.” It’s a workout that alternates intense bursts of activity (sometimes as little as 30 seconds) with a short rest, then another burst, rest, etc. This way, so “they” say, you can get great cardio benefits in as little as four minutes. Which beats driving to a gym, waiting for a machine, working out for thirty or forty minutes, showering, getting dressed, and driving home while thinking, “Where has the day gone?”

I’ve integrated HIIT into my routine, along with strength training on an official Chuck Norris Total Gym. I want to be like Chuck. When he does a pushup, he does not actually push himself up; he pushes the Earth down.

I thought about this the other day when I was quota challenged. I needed words and needed them fast, but I was tied up with my inner editor, the pest, and indulging in too much thinking and strategizing. This wasn’t about my outline, with my signpost scenes. It was about those spaces in between, in the scenes, that were giving me pause.

Frustrated, I opened up a blank text note and just started writing without thinking, typing to oil the gears, writing (in Ray Bradbury’s phrase) by jumping off a cliff and growing wings on the way down.

What happened was the first few lines came along, but without much meat on them. Then the wings started to form. I was writing in flow, flapping wildly, and the words were coming from that magical place just beneath the surface. As I wrote I didn’t stop to analyze; I just felt the rich vein of story I’d tapped into and wanted to record it as fast as I could.

When I stopped I checked to see how many words I’d written. I kid you not, it was exactly 250. If you’ve read my craft articles long enough, you’ve probably run into my idea of “The Nifty 250” (sometimes enlarged to 350). I like to do that early in the morning, to get a jump on the writing day. But it also works when you’re well into the day and feel stuck.

That gave me the idea for HIIW—high impact interval writing. Why not do this all the time? Why not work in increments of 250 words? Write them, get up, walk around, deep breathe, stretch, sit back down, analyze, and integrate the good stuff into your draft. Then do it again.

This is a bit like the Pomodoro Technique, developed by entrepreneur Francesco Cirillo when he was a university student.

Cirillo recognized that time could be turned into an ally, rather than a source of anxiety. The Pomodoro Technique essentially trains people to focus on tasks better by limiting the length of time they attempt to maintain that focus and ensuring restorative breaks from the effort. The method also helps them overcome their tendencies to procrastinate or multitask, both of which are known to impair productivity.

Try this next time you’re stuck:

  • Open up a blank document. (This gives you total freedom to write)
  • Start writing, and let it flow, forgetting about trying to shape into anything. Get the words down fast and furious. Go for 250 words (that’s about one page, double spaced, 12 pt. type).
  • Get up, stretch, take a deep breath, pour yourself some more coffee or tea, then look at what you wrote.
  • Highlight the gold nuggets and expand on them if you like.
  • Copy-paste the nuggets into your draft.

I’m mostly an old school, butt-in-chair writer. If I’m going good, even after meeting my quota I’ll keep on writing until I sense the beginning of diminishing returns. With HIIW, I’ve found the words come faster and fresher. As the great Ray put it:

“This afternoon, burn down the house. Tomorrow, pour cold critical water upon the simmering coals. Time enough to think and cut and rewrite tomorrow. But today—explode—fly apart—disintegrate! … It doesn’t have to be a big fire. A small blaze, candlelight perhaps…Look for the little loves, find and shape the bitternesses. Savor them in your mouth, try them on your typewriter.” — Ray Bradbury, Zen in the Art of Writing

What kind of writer are you? Sit down and grind it out? Write when you feel like it? Or something in between?

Chiastic Structure

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Chiasmus – noun – a reversal in the order of words in two otherwise parallel phrases, as in “He went to the country, to the town went she.”

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I recently encountered an episode of Thomas Umstadt Jr’s Author Media podcast entitled How to Write Enduring Best Sellers with the Two-act Chiastic Structure. I wasn’t familiar with the term “chiastic”, so I listened and learned a lot.

According to Umstadt

Western storytelling is typically based on the three-act structure. … However, the three-act structure is not the only story structure. There is an ancient story structure that dates back to the time of oral storytelling. This ancient structure is still popular in the East, yet it appeals to modern Western readers.

This two-act concept is the chiastic structure, and it can be used for sentences, poetry, stories, or even series. A famous example of a chiastic sentence was used by President John F. Kennedy in his inaugural address:

“Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.”

No matter what length, the chiastic structure follows an ABBA model and can be illustrated by two lines crossing like this:

In the Kennedy example, A = “your country” and B = “you.” The second part of the statement is a mirror image of the first.

* * *

But chiastic structure gets really interesting when it’s applied to stories. Check out this example from Wikipedia that shows the Biblical narrative of Noah and the Ark as it moves from A to the midpoint and then resolves from the midpoint back to A’.

Amazing!

* * *

I tend to think of story structure more as an arc. Rising action, crisis and midpoint, falling action and resolution.

However, after I read about chiastic structure, I realize I’ve used a modified form of it a couple of times in my books. In my first novel, The Watch on the Fencepost, the story begins when a young woman finds a mysterious watch on a fencepost which propels her on a quest to find the truth about her parents’ untimely deaths. Their deaths represent the loss of her closest relationships. The book ends when she finds another watch on the same fencepost that solidifies her relationship with a man who will become a special part of her life.

I always thought of this kind of writing as bookends to a story, but there’s a lot more to chiastic structure. I suppose the internal chapters have to mirror each other. I haven’t tried anything close to this, but it would be interesting to outline a story with that structure.

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So TKZers: Are you familiar with chiastic structure? Have you used it in your own writing? Is it something you think you may want to use in the future?

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Coming Soon!

Another Side of Sunshine
A Reen & Joanie Detective Agency Mystery

Spunky ten-year-old Reen and her shy nine-year-old cousin Joanie go on a quest to find a treasure hidden by the mysterious Mr. Shadow. Along the way, they discover new insights into friendship and fair play.