Category Archives: #writetip

Fluff, Flab, and Filler

Posted on by

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

Posted on by

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

Posted on by

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

Posted on by

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

Posted on by

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.”

* * *

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.

* * *

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?

* * *

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.

 

Scars Tell a Story #WriteTip

Posted on by
Close-up of a scarred male lion

Click to Enlarge

While watching my wildlife gorge on peanuts, bread, almonds, dates, and raisins one morning, an impressive male bluejay caught my attention. Tall, well-built, and mysterious. The moment he landed on the food table in front of my window, the scarring on his face came into focus, and I wondered what happened to him.

Scars tell a story, an undeniable truth of the past. Perhaps “Scar” had a run-in with a hawk in his youth. The scars looked old, as though they’d formed during his development years or changed him as a young adult. The feathers atop the usual bluejay markings were much darker — midnight black — the skin obviously disrupted by a traumatic experience.

What was Scar’s wounding event? Did he fight this battle alone? Or did a predator kill his entire family in the nest?

I can only speculate. The answers died long ago.

All in all, Scar is a happy little dude, but also more cautious than the others, which adds some validity to my hypothesis as to how he received the scars. I’m intrigued by Scar, and pray a human didn’t hurt him. He piques my interest. Keeps me guessing about his past.

If Scar was a character in a novel, I could never stop flipping pages until I’d unraveled the mystery behind his scars. The author would have hooked me simply by showing me his face. What seems like a minor detail like a scar adds to the hero’s characterization. And you can bet an emotional scar lurks behind the physical disruption. All species, including humans, are affected by past events.

bluejay on snow

Not Scar. I cannot photograph him while we’re building trust.

Take Scar, for example. He waits for others to sample the food before he takes a bite. He watches how I interact with the other bluejays before he approaches.

He’s careful.

Reserved.

Suspicious of humans or new food sources.

The rest of the party (my favorite collective noun for a group of bluejays) scream with excitement and joy.

Not Scar. He’s quiet. Hangs back. Learns. Only after he’s gathered enough intel to satisfy his inquisitive mind does he feel safe enough to fly closer. I admire that about him. It shows he’s intelligent.

As writers, we’re told to include emotional scars but we also shouldn’t avoid physical scars. And not only for villains. Heroes wear scars, too.

Tattoos are often reminders of a special time in one’s life or symbolize what the wearer loves, embodies, or believes in. They can also help the wearer regain control over a trauma or cover, even enhance, a physical scar.

Years ago, I knew a young woman who was born with a cleft palate and left with scars from the corrective surgery. She never felt beautiful. All she could see were her scars. But she was beautiful, inside and out. Since few could make her see herself through their eyes, she turned to drugs and alcohol and eventually lost her life.

Some say, it’s more difficult for women to deal with facial scars than men. I know from personal experience that isn’t necessarily true. Both men and women try to hide scars public. It’s easier than having to retell — or relive — the story behind them.

Back in 1995, I was involved in a car accident that threw me into the windshield. Half conscious, I opened my eyes while stuck in the glass and tried to break free. The movement tore off my left eyebrow, eyelashes, upper eyelid, a chunk of my nose, split open my upper lip, and cracked all my teeth. The hospital called in a plastic surgeon to repair the damage to the left side of my face. Doctors told me I’d never regrow my eyebrow or eyelashes. For a girl in her twenties, it was devastating news.

I’ve never been one to follow the norm, or listen to doctors who think they can predict the future. Instead, I prayed for a miracle. Little by little, as I picked glass shards out of both eyes for several weeks, tiny hairs filled in my eyebrow and my lashes sprouted new growth. The doctors couldn’t believe it. My progress from the accident to full eyebrow and lashes is now in medical journals.

The emergency plastic surgery left me with scars on my eyelid, nose, and above my left upper lip. If you and I met in person, you might never notice. I only allow those closest to me to see my scars without makeup. When I’m tired, they pop right out. Not sure why scars get more visible then, but I’m not alone…

A dear friend for the last 30+ years got badly injured on a motorcycle when his gas tank exploded. The melted skin covering his right armpit looks like it belongs to Freddy Kruger. And the deep scarring on his forehead and zipper-like indent in his skull are still prominent 40 years after the accident. I love his scars. He wouldn’t be the same man without them.

Not only are scars reminders of past trauma but how one dealt with the injury and pain, then and now.

Like me, my friend also covers his scars in public. Only those closest to him are allowed to see the extent of his old injuries (2nd dimension of character = the person family and friends know). Neither of us regret our scars. They remind us that we’re lucky to be alive, along with all our other physical scars. Doesn’t mean we want to share them with the world (1st dimension of character = one’s public face).

See how a detail like a scar can inform one’s character? Keep it in mind while crafting your hero or secondary characters. Just remember to note them in your story bible, so a scar on the left cheek doesn’t move to the right in subsequent chapters and/or books. LOL

Would anyone like to share their scars and the story behind them? Have you ever seen a scarred bluejay or other backyard bird? I don’t dare photograph Scar until he gets to know me better, or the trust we’ve built may crumble.

Let’s Talk Turkey #WriteTip

Posted on by

I moved into my new place last week. Hence why you haven’t seen me in the comment section. It took two weeks to pack. I’m now unpacking. I found a cozy little abode on the New Hampshire seacoast, near the Massachusetts border. It’s the best of both worlds — two minutes from anything I might need, yet a quiet country setting with plenty of wildlife.

As I gazed out my kitchen window for the first time, five huge male turkeys stood sentinel in the yard. Soon, twenty-five more joined them to socialize, feast, and play. The original five Toms guard the property all day. There’s also an adorable opossum and three albino skunks — stunning all white fur — who come nightly to eat alongside the resident stray cat. All four share the same bowl.

Why can’t humans put aside their differences like animals can?

For my fellow crow lovers out there, a murder of crows arrived on day two. Or Poe and the gang followed me. Sure sounds like Poe’s voice, but I can’t be certain until I set up their feeding spot and take a closer look. My murder has white dots, each in different spots, which helps me tell them apart. Plus, Poe has one droopy wing.

As I watched the five Toms this morning, it reminded me of a post I’d written back in 2017 (time flies on TKZ, doesn’t it?). So, I thought I’d revamp that post a bit, and tweak for our pantser friends.

***

Clare’s recent post got me thinking about craft and how, as we write, the story inflates like a Tom turkey. If you think about it long enough and throw in a looming deadline, Tom Turkey and story structure have a lot in common.

Stay with me. I promise it’ll make sense, but I will ask you to take one small leap of faith — I need you to picture Tom Turkey as the sum of his parts, constructed by craft. And yes, this light bulb blazed on over the Thanksgiving holiday. We are now having spiral ham for Christmas dinner.

But I digress.

Story beats build Tom’s spine. Think of each milestone as vertebrae. Pantsers, let the story unfold as it flows. You can always check the beat placement after the drafting stage.

The ribs that extend from Tom’s spine liken to the equal parts that expand our beats and tell us how our characters should react before, during, and after the quest.

Broken into four equal parts, 25% percent each, this is the dramatic arc. It’s a natural progression that many writers do instinctually. If you want to check your work after the drafting stage, pantsers, the dramatic arc should look like this…

  • Setup (Page 1 – 25% mark): Introduce protagonist, hook the reader, setup First Plot Point through foreshadowing, stakes, and establish empathy (not necessarily likability) for the MC.
  • Response (25% – 50% mark): The MC’s reaction to the new goal/stakes/obstacles revealed by the First Plot Point. MC doesn’t need to be heroic yet. They retreat, regroup, and have doomed attempts at reaching their goal. Also include a reminder of antagonistic forces at work.
  • Attack (50% – 75% mark): Midpoint information/awareness causes the MC to change course in how to approach the obstacles; the hero is now empowered with information on how to proceed, not merely reacting anymore.
  • Resolution (75% – The End): MC summons the courage, inner strength, and growth to find a solution to overcome inner obstacles and conquer the antagonistic force. All new information must have been referenced, foreshadowed, or already in play by 2nd Plot Point or we’re guilty of deus ex machina.

Tom Turkey is beginning to take shape.

Characterization adds meat to his bones, and conflict-driven sub-plots supply tendons and ligaments. When we layer in dramatic tension in the form of a need, goal, quest, and challenges to overcome, Tom’s skin forms and thickens.

With obstacle after obstacle, and inner and outer conflict, Tom strengthens enough to sprout feathers. At the micro-level, MRUs (Motivation-Reaction-Units) — for every action there’s a reaction — establish our story rhythm and pace. They also help heighten and maintain suspense. If you remember every action has a reaction, MRUs come naturally to many writers. Still good to check on the first read through.

MRUs fluff Tom Turkey’s feathers. He even grew a beak!

Providing a vicarious experience, our emotions splashed across the page, makes Tom fan his tail-feathers. The rising stakes add to Tom’s glee (he’s a sadist), and he prances for a potential mate. He believes he’s ready to score with the ladies. Tom may actually get lucky this year.

Then again, we know better. Don’t we, dear writers? Poor Tom is still missing a few crucial elements to close the deal.

By structuring our scenes — don’t groan, pantsers! — Tom grew an impressive snood. See it dangling over his beak? The wattle under his chin needs help, though. Hens are shallow creatures. 😉 Quick! We need a narrative structure.

Narrative structure refers to the way in which a story is organized and presented to the reader. It includes the plot, subplot, characters, setting, and theme, as well as techniques and devices used by the author to convey these elements.

Now, Tom looks sharp. What an impressive bird. Watch him prance, full and fluffy, head held high, tail feathers fanned in perfect formation.

Uh-oh. Joe Hunter sets Tom in his rifle scope. We can’t let him die before he finds a mate! But how can we save him? We’ve already given him all the tools he needs, right?

Well, not quite.

Did we choose the right point of view to tell our story? If we didn’t, Tom could wind up on a holiday table surrounded by drooling humans in bibs. We can’t let that happen! Nor can we afford to lose the reader before we get a chance to dazzle ’em.

Tom needs extra oomph — aka Voice. Without it, Joe Hunter will murder poor Tom.

Voice is an elusive beast for new writers because it develops over time. To quote JSB:

It comes from knowing each character intimately and writing with the “voice” that is a combo of character and author and craft on the page.

That added oomph makes your story special. No one can write like you. No one. Remember that when self-doubt or imposter syndrome creeps in.

If Tom hopes to escape Joe Hunter’s bullet, he needs wings in the form of context. Did we veer outside readers’ expectations for the genre we’re writing in? Did we give Tom a heart and soul by subtly infusing theme? Can we boil down the plot to its core story, Tom’s innards? What about dialogue? Does Tom gobble or quack?

Have we shown the three dimensions of character to add oxygen to Tom’s lungs? You wouldn’t want to be responsible for suffocating Tom to death, would you?

  • 1st Dimension of Character: The best version of who they are; the face the character shows to the world
  • 2nd Dimension of Character:  The person a character shows to friends and family
  • 3rd Dimension of Character:  The character’s true character. If a fire breaks out in a crowded theater, will they help others or elbow their way to the exit?

Lastly, Tom needs a way to wow the ladies. Better make sure our prose sings. If we don’t, Tom might die of loneliness. Do we really want to be responsible for that? To be safe, let’s review our word choices, sentence variations, paragraphing, white space, grammar, and how we string words together to ensure Tom lives a full and fruitful life.

Don’t forget to rewrite and edit. If readers love Tom, he and his new mate may bring chicks (sequels or prequels) into the world, and we, as Tom’s creator, have the honor of helping them flourish into full-fledged turkeys.

Aww… Tom’s story has a happy ending now. Good job, writers!

For fun, choose a name for Tom’s mate. Winner gets bragging rights.

Should You Write a Prequel?

Posted on by

When Dexter: Original Sin came out, I had my doubts. The ending of Dexter: New Blood left a bad taste in my mouth (I won’t spoil it for you).

Jeff Lindsay isn’t to blame for that. New Blood and Original Sin are based on the characters from Lindsay’s long-standing series but don’t have a direct novel equivalent. The television franchise creator, Clyde Phillips, made changes to the story for the show.

Dexter: Original Sin is also a prequel that shows Dexter’s early years… how his father created “the code” to keep his “dark passenger” under control, his internship at Miami Metro Police Department, and his first kill.

Without basing the prequel on a Lindsay novel, I was more than a little reluctant to watch it. But I love Dexter! Which is a great reason to write a prequel. If you have a beloved character, readers might be interested in their early years.

Upside of Prequels

Character depth: Write a prequel to show the origin story of a beloved character or cast to explain their motivation and how they became who they are in the original series.

World-building: Write a prequel to provide a deeper look into the world before the main events i.e., history, politics, culture, etc.

Fresh perspectives: Write a prequel to showcase lesser-known characters and their perspectives.

Downside of Prequels

Unnecessary recap: Don’t write a prequel to rehash plot points from one of the original novels or the series as a whole.

Disappointing character portrayals: Don’t write a prequel to capture the essence of an established character or cast, or you’ll risk undoing all the characterization in the series.

Quality: If you don’t believe the prequel can live up to the high standards of the series, write something else.

The last thing you want is for readers to think:

  • “Was the prequel necessary?”
  • “Meh. It was okay, not nearly as good as the original novels.”
  • “What did I just read? I feel tricked, like everything I believed was a lie.”
  • Or the fatal blow: “Doubt I’ll even buy the next book in the series now.”

Too many franchises use prequels to pad the bank account, and few live up to the original series. While it may be fun for readers/viewers to revisit the characters and story world they love, too often prequels fall flat. Either they’re filled with inconsistencies in characterization, or they attempt to skew previous storylines to fit the new narrative.

Neither apply to Dexter: Original Sin.

Phillips did a masterful job of showing Dexter’s early years. A young actor named Patrick Gibson plays Dexter, but Michael C. Hall — whom we all grew to love in the original television series — narrates Dexter Morgan’s inner voice. Genius! The main reason I waited to watch the show was because, in my opinion, no other actor could play Dexter Morgan. ’Course, I never thought anyone could play a believable Hannibal Lecter, either, but Mads Mikkelsen proved me wrong.

From the first episode of Dexter: Original Sin, the screenwriter captivated me with how he portrayed the origin story. Let’s look at everything he did right.

In the first five episodes, Phillips never tried to change the character of Dexter Morgan. Instead, he merely filled in the blanks of what we missed in the original series. Patrick Gibson (young Dexter) didn’t overplay his role. The trailer misled me by zooming in on young Dexter’s evil expression — and not in a good way — when in fact, 20-year-old Dexter is simply learning to deal with the duality within him.

  • He knows he’s different from other people.
  • He questions why he’s different.
  • He fights the desires of his “dark passenger.”

Conflict, conflict, and more conflict.

Discussions between Dexter and Harry Morgan turn almost heartwarming. Regardless of subject matter, the love between a father and his adopted son shines through. They’re doing the best they can under impossible circumstances.

As a homicide sergeant at Miami Metro PD, Harry taught Dexter “the code” shown via flashbacks in the original series.

For years, Dexter believed Harry created the code, but in season eight of the original series, we learned he had help. Dr. Evelyn Vogel, a neuropsychiatrist who specializes in the treatment of psychopaths, noticed Dexter had psychopathic tendencies as a child. So, she and Harry developed the Code of Harry as a way for Dexter to safely satisfy his needs and help rid society of dangerous predators.

Dexter: Original Sin provides an in-depth look at the code in real time, as the prequel takes place fifteen years before the original series.

Code of Harry

  1. Don’t get caught.
  2. Never kill an innocent.
  3. Targets must be killers who have evaded the justice system.
  4. Killing must serve a purpose. Otherwise, it’s just plain murder.
  5. Blend in socially to maintain appearances.
  6. Fake emotions and normality.
  7. Control and channel the urge to kill.
  8. Be prepared. Leave no trace or evidence.
  9. Never make a [public] scene. Stay calm and collected.
  10. Don’t make things personal because it clouds judgment.
  11. Don’t get emotionally involved.
  12. No preemptive killing.

The prequel never tries to rewrite the well-established Code of Harry. Instead, Phillips shows mistakes by both Harry and Dexter as they attempt to navigate their new normal. We also see Dexter’s first kill, which broke several rules for a valid reason, and learn more about Dexter’s birth mother and her relationship with Harry.

Dexter: Original Sin succeeds because it enhances Lindsay’s original series. And that may be the best reason of all to write a prequel. Otherwise, writer beware — penning a decent prequel is not an easy endeavor.

Have you ever considered writing a prequel? 

If you’ve written a prequel, what was your deciding factor? What did you hope to achieve? How did readers respond?

Have you read a prequel that blew you away?

What prequel failed to meet your expectations, and why?

Solving the Mystery of TOD

Posted on by

 

By Elaine Viets

 Bowls of melting ice cream once helped solve a brutal murder. An entire family – father, mother and two small children – were shot to death at their dinner table. The neighbors heard a commotion and called the police.

When the police arrived, a death investigator determined that the family had finished their main meal, and the mother was dishing out ice cream when the family was shot.

The death investigator photographed the ice cream, and measured how far it had melted in the bowl. Then she bought the same brand of ice cream and timed how long it took for the ice cream to melt in the same type of bowl.

That gave the police a vital clue to the estimated time of death (TOD).

Estimated is the crucial word. It’s nearly impossible to determine the actual time of death, unless the person dies at a hospital or in front of witnesses.

I heard this story about the ice cream when I took the MedicoLegal Death Investigators Training Course, given by St. Louis University’s School of Medicine. I’m not a death investigator, but the course was helpful.

When you write your mystery, you don’t want your pathologist to check out a body just found in a field and announce, “The time of death was at seven-fifteen.”

The pathologist doesn’t know that.  There’s no way they can know for sure. There are too many variables, including these three:

Rigor mortis. A body stiffens, starting about two hours after death. Around 24 hours later, the rigidity starts to disappear.

Algor mortis. The dead body’s temperature decreases until it reaches room temperature.

Livor mortis. When the heart stops pumping, the blood settles and the skin turns dark. One way police can tell if a body has been moved is if it’s found face up, but there’s dark purple livor mortis on the chest.

Humidity, what the dead person is wearing, and the temperature are a few of the things that can affect the time of death.

Let’s say your victim is shot in their home. If it’s summer and the killer turns down the air conditioner, that can slow down the processes. In the winter, turning the furnace on high can speed things up.

Time of death calculators can help mystery writers estimate TOD. Here’s one: https://www.omnicalculator.com/health/time-of-death

If your novel has a person found dead in their home, here are some clues your investigator can use to determine their time of death:

Has the mail been taken in?

Are the curtains open or closed?

Are the lights on or off? In which rooms? This clue is less helpful now that some homes have door-activated lights that turn on automatically when the room door is opened.

Is anything cooking on the stove or in the oven?

What about the food in the fridge: Has the milk soured, the produce wilted, or the meat spoiled?

Are any food items on the counter? Butter? Ice cream? Is it melted? Is the bread moldy?

Can you still smell food cooking on the stove?

 

Pathologists will tell you that TOD is an art and a science. TOD is also German for “death,” but that’s another story.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Book Lovers Special: MURDER BETWEEN THE COVERS, my Dead-End Job mystery set at Page Turners bookstore is 99 cents all month. https://www.amazon.com/Murder-Between-Covers-Dead-End-Mysteries-ebook/dp/B0D2R9NZ77

Does Your Story Have a Full Circle Moment?

Posted on by

A full circle moment occurs when life provides clarity about the past.

The journey begins with an often harrowing event, we endure trials and tribulations along the way, then end up right where we started.

Only now, we have the wisdom of life experience and personal growth to view the past from a new perspective.

Have you experienced a full circle moment in your life?

I’m living one right now. As I mentioned before, I grew up in Massachusetts. When I moved to New Hampshire, I said I’d never return, that no one could pay me to live there again. And that remained my mindset for decades. But now, after a series of difficult personal experiences and a new, enlightened perspective, I plan to move back to Massachusetts. Everything about my decision feels right — it feels like I’ve finally found my way home.

If I were to write my life story one day, the jangle of the key in the lock of my new home would become a powerful full circle moment in the book.

A full circle moment completes the character arc.

Story Circle

Dan Harmon is the mastermind behind the Story Circle. Currently an executive producer at Rick and Morty, he also created and ran the NBC show Community. Dan consolidated Joseph Campbell’s classic Hero’s Journey from 17+ steps into a more contemporary set of 8, each with a punchy one-word descriptor that makes them easy to remember.

Please ignore my lame attempt at drawing a straight line with a mouse. 😀

click to enlarge

YOU: A compelling main character (YOU) has a problem.

NEED: YOU have a need.

YOU want something. YOU are not satisfied with a ho-hum lifestyle. Either this desire stems from an internal NEED before the inciting incident, or something or someone comes along to awaken the desire within YOU.

GO: YOU cross the threshold into an adventure.

YOU have packed your bags to search for a brighter tomorrow. Not only are YOU ready to GO but you’re going no matter what. No one can stop YOU. The NEED is too strong to ignore.

SEARCH: YOU find the answer to your problem.

Mission accomplished. Or is it?

YOU land in a new country and don’t speak the language, nor are YOU familiar with the culture.

Let’s see what YOU are made of. Will YOU adapt? Or fall apart? Perhaps a little of both.

FIND: Things are not how they appear.

This is a major threshold the character must cross, one that spins the story in a new direction. The protagonist has come this far. There’s no turning back. YOU must do everything within your power to fight to fulfill your NEED.

TAKE: But there’s always a price to pay.

How badly do YOU want it? This is where we see how steep of a price the protagonist is willing to pay to get what they NEED.

In this part of the story, the protagonist comes face-to-face with the villain and dangerously close to death, real or internal. The climax is the culmination of everything YOU have been fighting for since the beginning.

RETURN: After YOU slay the metaphorical (or real) dragon, YOU RETURN to the ordinary world.

YOU have fulfilled your NEED, defeated the villain, learned something about yourself, and are ready to RETURN home. In a romcom, it’s here where the hero races to the airport to prevent his soulmate from boarding the plane. In a thriller, the protagonist has defeated the villain and must RETURN home, even if there’s more danger in the near future.

CHANGE: The journey has changed YOU, for better or worse.

YOU are not the same person YOU were before. Are YOU wiser? Better prepared for the unexpected? Or more cautious, even paranoid? How has the journey changed YOU?

Wizard of Oz — Story Circle Example 

YOU: Dorothy is in the black-and-white world, dreaming (in song) about traveling over the rainbow rather than stay in Kansas.

NEED: A twister dumps Dorothy’s house in a colorful town square. No longer in a black-and-white world, she enters a land of technicolor and NEEDs to adapt to a new and unfamiliar place.

GO: When Dorothy first lands in Oz, she doesn’t know where she is or how she got there. Soon, she realizes she’s “over the rainbow” and her NEED now is to get home. The only way to do that is to journey to see the great and powerful Oz. She also must stay on the yellow brick road and watch out for the Wicked Witch of the West. But she must go. The NEED to GO home is too great. Dorothy begins her adventure.

SEARCH: With advice from Glinda, the Good Witch of the North*, and her ruby red slippers, Dorothy and Toto follow the yellow brick road toward the great unknown. For the first few steps, she literally focuses on putting one foot in front of the other until she moves farther down the road.

Along the way she encounters the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Lion. She also endures conflict and obstacles — facing her fears, traversing through the forest, and finding a way to meet the great and powerful Oz.

*In the original novel Glinda is the Good Witch of the South, but I used “North” from the 1939 film adaptation because it’s more well-known.

FIND: The Emerald City is finally within sight. Dorothy believes the field of poppies is a beautiful and faster way to get there. But all is not how it appears. To steal the ruby red slippers, the Wicked Witch of the West has placed a field of magical sleep-inducing poppies on the outskirts of the city, and Dorothy and Toto fall into a deep slumber.

This scene is a beautiful example of the fifth stage of the Story Circle that hints at the darkness that creeps within us all, even more so when we set out to make our dreams a reality.

TAKE: The Wicked Witch of the West sends her band of flying monkeys to bring Dorothy and her friends to the castle. But the flying monkeys can’t harm Dorothy because she wears the mark of the Good Witch of the North on her forehead. Dorothy is forced to choose between her magic slippers and Toto, whom the Wicked Witch threatens to drown if Dorothy refuses to comply.

When the Wicked Witch torches the Scarecrow, his straw is set on fire. Dorothy tosses a bucket of water to help her friend but also wets the Wicked Witch, who melts into a puddle on the floor.

Dorothy’s victory shows the reader/viewer she has the inner strength to complete her quest.

RETURN: Dorothy discovers the wizard is a fraud. But luckily, there’s still a way to get home. The answer has been on Dorothy’s feet the entire time. She clicks her heels three times and repeats, “There’s no place like home.”

CHANGE: Dorothy realizes her home and family are the most valuable treasures on earth. She’s no longer the dreamy girl who wishes to leave Kansas. She’s grateful for what she has and finds happiness in the simple things.

She is transformed. And it’s a powerful full circle moment.

Have you experienced a full circle moment in your life? Tell us about it. Or share your favorite full circle moment from a book or movie.

Are you familiar with the Story Circle? Pantser or plotter, it’s an easy way to test your character arc.

Thank you to all our military men and women for your service. Happy Veterans Day!

Please note: I’m on the road today, so I may not be available to respond to comments right away.