Category Archives: writing techniques

One-page critique of Bullet’s Name

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By Joe Moore

We continue our one-page critique project at TKZ with an anonymous submission called Bullet’s Name.

August, 1937

It was just after eleven on a Sunday morning when God-fearing people were in church and reprobates were sleeping in from reprobating all night.

Jasper Green was waiting for me in a rundown colored roadhouse a few miles outside Salisbury, North Carolina. I parked the well-worn Ford sedan that I’d rented three days earlier for ten bucks a day from a less-than-honest car dealer in Charlotte. I parked just shy of sparkling Dodge coupe with a Carolina plate.

The front door stood open so I crossed the porch and walked into the dim interior. The water-stained ceiling undulated gently like the surface of the ocean. The pine floors were worn paper smooth and the place smelled of spilled beer, cigarette smoke and a hint of a shallow piss pit out back. Some of the dark-brown floor stains looked like residue from blade work.

Green sat like a king with his back in a corner, his black hair pomaded to his narrow skull like sun-baked paint. His right hand was under the table, his dusty brown eyes reflected amused disinterest. A young negress, with a lithe body that gave turned a simple cotton shift into an elegant gown, was delivering a bottle of whiskey to his table when I came in and she looked at me like I was tracking in a dog turd.

In a welcoming gesture, Jasper Green smiled disarmingly and raised his chin to invite me over. When I got to the table, he pointed at the chair opposite and said, “Sit down and take a load off, buddy.”

I would recommend that the writer proofread the work before submission. Even if this is a rough first draft, the writer could have taken a few seconds to make sure this single page was clean and devoid of errors. There are words missing: “the” or “a” before the word “sparkling”, and extra words that don’t belong: “gave” just before “turned”. We are told twice in a row that “I parked”.

Regarding the writing, there’s nothing wrong with using metaphors, similes and strong description to create atmosphere and sense of place. But in this example, there are way too many. Some are confusing and some just don’t work. I don’t think using the verb “undulated” is a good way to describe a ceiling unless you’re drunk on your back staring up at it.

I would bet that beer drinkers love the smell of beer. I would even bet that they would have no issue with the aroma of spilt beer. I think what the writer meant was the odor of spilled beer from a week or a month ago—the smell of stale beer.

I assume the dark stains resulting from “blade work” mean blood spilled from past knife fights. That almost works, but for me it was too obscure.

I would suggest changing “colored roadhouse” to “negro roadhouse”. In today’s politically correct mindset, colored does not have the impact that negro would.

I’ve heard of people described as having a narrow face or even a narrow head, but a narrow skull doesn’t quite put a vivid picture in my mind. Word choice is so important. The word skull, for me at least, has a totally different connotation than head. And is pomaded the right word choice for this setting? The first page may not be the best time to send your reader running for a dictionary or the writer trying to exhibit an extended vocabulary. Remember that you are establishing your voice from page one.

From across the room, the main character could see that Jasper’s eyes were a “dusty brown”, a description I find somewhat attractive for a person the writer is trying to paint as a dark or questionable character.

The sentence that starts with “A young negress” lacks proper punctuation. It also paints a contradiction. This “lithe” girl who turns rags to royalty when it comes to her wardrobe suddenly is assumed to think in terms of turds. A complete turn-off for me.

An overall comment: you cannot describe a character into being good or bad. This can only be done through their actions and reactions. This submission tries to use description to do the job. It may be a sign that the writer doesn’t “know” the characters well enough yet.

Summary: proof read, use economy of words—less is always more, use proper punctuation, and start a story at the moment of impact where the main character is tossed out of his or her comfort zone. Chances are, an agent would not read beyond this page.

What about you? Would your read on?

Download FRESH KILLS, Tales from the Kill Zone to your Kindle or PC today.

First Page Critique

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By Joe Moore

ITW_Award_black_72dpi Yesterday, the nominees for the 2010 ITW Thriller Awards were announced. Congratulations to our Kill Zone blogmate, John Gilstrap! His thriller NO MERCY was nominated for Best Paperback Original. This is a great honor and we all wish John the best of luck in taking home that award next July.

This past Sunday, Jim posted a blog about the importance of the opening pages of a manuscript submitted to an agent or editor. He pointed out some common pitfalls that new authors make, and which ultimately can result in rejection. Clare continued the theme on Monday by listing additional sins committed by first-time writers. And yesterday, Kathryn invited our visitors to submit the first page of their manuscript for a free critique. Unless otherwise requested, the authors will remain anonymous. So to start things off, here’s our first submission and my critique, page one of the manuscript THE CASSIOPEIA EFFECT

Marcus had never seen a dead body before. No, that’s misleading. He had seen a dead body—two of them in fact. That came with burying his wife and daughter eight years earlier. What he’d never seen before was a dead body lying in the streets. It was common enough in the part of the city he found himself living, where the homeless turned up dead from time to time, but up until a few moments ago, he’d been lucky.

It seemed his luck had changed. Whatever streak he’d been riding was coming to an end at an alarmingly fast rate. In the last twenty-four hours he’d lost a small fortune to his bookie, been given a notice of eviction from his apartment, and crashed his computer. Now there was a dead guy leaning against his car. It really didn’t surprise him, though.

For him, Good Luck came and went like a five dollar whore giving head while parked next to the curb. Bad luck, on the other hand, was like a bad love affair he couldn’t put an end to. No matter how many times it left, it always showed back up knocking at his door. All the other stuff had been Bad Luck knocking; finding the dead guy next to his car was it breaking down the door and rushing back into his life.

Marcus stepped off the curb and walked to his car and the waiting dead man. The filthy trench coat, ripped pants, and mismatched shoes left little doubt that the guy was one of the many homeless who wandered the streets. The amount of blood splattered across the car door made it pretty apparent the homeless guy was dead. But Marcus was still going to check. There was no way he was going to let a man die if there was still a chance to save him. He already had to live with too many things he wasn’t proud of and wasn’t about to add another.

Careful to avoid the blood pooled on the oil stained pavement, he knelt down next to the body, pulled back the collar of the coat with one hand, and with the other, checked for a pulse. Nothing. Whoever he had been, he was nothing but dead now. Marcus’ eyes played over the strange pattern of blood spray on the car door as he tried to decide what to do next.

There wouldn’t be any calls to 911 or the police. Moving him off the car and leaving him in front of his building for someone else to find wasn’t an option either. He didn’t need a dead guy connected to him in any way. What he could do, Marcus decided, was take him a few blocks where he’d be found and, hopefully, get the burial he deserved.

One of the main issues raised in Jim’s post on Sunday was what he called “Exposition Dump”. Unfortunately, that’s what we have in this example—the first 3 paragraphs contain a great deal of backstory with little “here and now”. This information should be saved and revealed later.

The best method for a reader to get to know a character is through their actions and reactions. Telling me about the bad luck Marcus has had does not engage me emotionally or spark my interest.

But all is not lost. In addition to cutting back on the “telling”, the writer might want to consider shifting the story into first person. Doing so could cause the reader to be pulled up close to the character and perhaps have a bit more feelings for Marcus. Here’s an example.

The first couple of sentences read:

Marcus had never seen a dead body before. No, that’s misleading. He had seen a dead body—two of them in fact. That came with burying his wife and daughter eight years earlier.

Now, here it is in first person:

I’d never seen a dead body before. No, that’s not true. Eight years ago, I had to bury my wife and daughter. But this was different.

Suddenly, the scene questions that pop into the readers mind—questions that were weak before—are now personal and tantalizing. The most intriguing: What happened to his wife and daughter? The straight exposition didn’t cause me to consider the questions in the same manner.

The second point I need to make is that if Marcos is the main character (and I have no idea if he is or not), I don’t like him very much. Why? He shows bad judgment. He’s into $5 whores, illegal gambling, and not willing to at least call the police—even anonymously—to report what he’s found. He quickly comes to the decision that for his own best interests, he should gather up the dead man and dump the body in another location. Granted, we don’t know why he would react this way, but having a number of negatives with little positive doesn’t make for a very likeable character. The reader needs to feel something for the character pretty much from the start. All I feel about Marcus is negative.

Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing objectionable about a character with those attributes as long as there’s a reason for the reader to sympathize with him and respect or at least understand his judgment. Right now, there’s nothing here I was able to latch on to.

I like to use my “Dirty Harry” example of how to establish a reader/viewer and character relationship fast. The first scene of the movie, Harry helps a little old lady cross the street. Then he goes into a coffee shop that’s being robbed and blows the bad guy away. I like Harry right from the start even though I know he’s rough around the edges, dangerous, cocky, and kind-hearted.

The truth is that most manuscripts get rejected by the end of the first page—or at least the first couple of pages. This is reality. No agent is going to persevere for fifty or a hundred pages in hopes that things might get better. And no reader will either.

What I’ve expressed is my personal opinion. If I were an agent or acquisition editor, I would probably reject this manuscript and move on to the next one in line.

So what do you think? After reading the first page, are you compelled to read the second page?

Download FRESH KILLS, Tales from the Kill Zone to your Kindle or PC today.

Foreshadow and Backshadow

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By Joe Moore

HAPPY SAINT PATRICK’S DAY!

A few weeks ago we discussed flashbacks and how they allow writers to convey backstory while the scene usually remains in the present. It’s a common technique in the writer’s toolbox for filling in the important history of a character or other elements in the story.

sign1 Today’s post is about foreshadowing, a technique that also deals with time. Most writers are familiar with it although few know about a companion technique called backshadowing. Both work well when used discretely.

Let’s start with foreshadowing. It’s the planting of hints and clues that tip off the reader as to what may come later in the story. For example, a character who is destined to die in an automobile accident 10 pages from now could complain about the unusual icy condition of the roads as the weather gets worse.

This technique can add dramatic tension by building anticipation about what might happen later. Foreshadowing can be used to generate suspense or to get across information that helps the reader appreciate future developments. Foreshadowing can also help make believable what might otherwise be outlandish or extraordinary events. For instance, if something in a character’s background is foreshadowed (she’s afraid of heights), then the reader will be prepared when a set of circumstances occur that cause a character to panic while standing on a roof.

There are many types of foreshadowing including direct, subtle, atmospheric, and global.

Direct foreshadowing is just that; a direct piece of information that is revealed to the reader about a future event.

Her plan was to pick the lock on the rear entrance, disable the alarm and disconnect the camera feeds before grabbing the jewels.

Subtle foreshadowing is not so obvious. It can be small crumbs of information that, when added together, help believability.

He reached for the red coffee cup but hesitated, knowing that particular color always meant failure.

Atmospheric foreshadowing usually deals with the elements surrounding the character and how they might reflect a mood or situation.

She crouched behind the wall and watched the clouds move across the moon and blot out the stars. The darkness would bring death.

Global foreshadowing is usually found right up front, either at the beginning of the book or the start of a chapter.

It never occurred to him that by the end of the day, he would shoot and kill five people.

So if that’s foreshadowing, what the heck is backshadowing?

It’s usually an event that has already occurred but affects the future. A Salem witch is burnt at the stake on page 15, while hundreds of years and many pages later, a woman comments that her new Salem, Mass apartment has a lingering burning smell.

Another common use of backshadowing is to start the story with the ending, then shift back to the beginning with the reader in full knowledge of the outcome but no idea how it all happened.

That’s how I wound up dead on a beautiful fall evening. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s back up and start at the beginning . . .

The reader doesn’t have to spot the foreshadowing or backshadowing when they occur, but they should be able to see their significance later.

Do you use either or both in your writing? Can you think of other types of foreshadowing and how they’re used?

Download FRESH KILLS, Tales from the Kill Zone to your Kindle or PC today.

The Fifty Page Mark

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by Michelle Gagnon

Recently a friend asked for writing advice on behalf of her husband, who started writing a book a few yeaYou Are Here.JPGrs ago but hasn’t made much progress.

“Let me guess,” I asked. “He’s right around the fifty page mark.” She double-checked with him, and he’d stopped at sixty pages even.

I’m willing to bet that most of the people who never finish writing a book stall out right around that point, somewhere between 40-60 pages. And here’s my theory as to why.

After months or years of talking about writing a book (because at least as far as my experience at cocktail parties dictates, almost everyone believes they have a book in them), they’ve finally sat down and hammered some of those words on to the page! Initially, that’s excitement enough.

Because the outset is always thrilling. And things usually go swimmingly for ten to twenty pages. Then, something gets in the way–maybe they can’t figure out what to tackle next in terms of the storyline, or their day to day life intrudes. So they leave for a bit, and come back to it. Or they manage to overcome whatever hurdle they encountered, plot-wise or life-wise, and forge ahead. Another twenty pages in, they’re feeling a genuine sense of accomplishment. They’re doing what so many people talk about but never achieve–and they’ve already written around fifty pages! The rest should be a breeze, right?

So what do they do at this point?

Most people sit back and say, “Better take a minute to look back over what I wrote, see how it is.”

And that’s their downfall. Because invariably as they go back over their work, they start editing. And editing is generally a slow, time-consuming process. Upon review a significant chunk of what they wrote won’t be as good as they thought it was–which is disheartening. Other sections might be better than remembered, but still a little rough.

So after a few weeks or months of editing, they find themselves back where they ended: at the fifty page mark. And suddenly, having written fifty pages doesn’t feel like such an accomplishment.

Here’s my analogy. Awhile back I read Bill Bryson’s A WALK IN THE WOODS, an extremely funny account of his attempt to hike the Appalachian Trail in its entirety.

After a rough start, the hike was going well. Bryson and his buddy were starting to feel seasoned, like they finally knew what they were doing and had gotten into the rhythm of the trail, so to speak. They stopped at an outfitters in Tennessee. Mounted on the wall was a map of the trail. For fun, they checked out how much ground they’d coveredBill_Bryson_A_Walk_In_The_Woods.jpg– and realized that they’d only made it through a tiny portion of the entire trail. At that point they flew home, took a break, and met up again later in Virginia, skipping a huge chunk of the hike.

And that’s exactly how it feels to be a writer at the fifty page mark looking up at the mountain of work looming above you. But unlike Bryson, you can’t just jump ahead to page 300. You’ll have to slog through every page.

For many people, that’s just too overwhelming. So they put the book away, resolving to come back to it when they have more time. And more often than not, that time never materializes.

Awhile back I wrote a post about never looking back. Especially for writers setting out to finish their first book, I think that is absolutely critical. If you’ve been through the process before, you know where you’re going to start experiencing that dread, and how to overcome it. You’ve hiked this particular trail. so although you know that at times it will prove relentless, you’ll get through it, the same way you have in the past.

New writers don’t have that experience to fall back on, so they tend to get discouraged. Here’s my advice on conquering the fifty page mark:

  • Don’t look back until you have at least the bones of the book laid out in its entirety.
  • Accept that your first draft is going to be just that- a draft. Editing can come later, but allow yourself to be just plain bad at times. You can go back and craft every turn of phrase later.

  • Even if you only manage to write a page a day, at the end of a year you’ll have a book, more or less. Set small, achievable goals, and feel proud for meeting each of them.

Remember that every writer has been at that exact same spot and felt just as daunted. What separates those who end up finishing with those who don’t has nothing to do with character or skill–it comes down to sheer force of will. As my mom always said, anything worth doing is a challenge. Rise to meet it and you won’t regret it. If nothing else, you’ll have accomplished what you set out to do: you’ve written your book. And no matter where it goes from there, that alone is a victory.

The Plot Thickens

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By Joe Moore

When you write a story, whether it’s short fiction or a novel-length manuscript, there are always two major components to deal with: characters and plot. Combined, they make up the “body” of the story. And of the two, the plot can be thought of as the skeleton while the characters are the meat and muscle.

skeleton1 When it comes to building your plot, nothing should be random or by accident. It may appear random to the reader but every turn of the plot should be significant and move the story to its final conclusion. Every element, whether it deals with a character’s inner or outer being should contribute to furthering the story.

In order to determine the significance of each element, always ask why. Why does he look or dress that way? Why did she say or react in that manner? Why does the action take place in this particular location as opposed to that setting? If you ask why, and don’t get a convincing answer, delete or change the element. Every word, every sentence, every detail must matter. If they don’t, and there’s a chance they could confuse the reader or get in the way of the story, change or delete.

Your plot should grow out of the obstructions placed in the character’s path. What is causing the protagonist to stand up for his beliefs? What is motivating her to fight for survival? That’s what makes up the critical points of the plot—those obstacles placed in the path of your characters.

Be careful of overreaction; a character acting or reacting beyond the belief model you’ve built in your reader’s mind. There’s nothing wrong with placing an ordinary person in an extraordinary situation—that’s what great stories are made from. But you must build your character in such a manner that his actions and reactions to each plot point are plausible. Push the character, but keep them in the realm of reality. A man who has never been in an airplane cannot be expected to fly a passenger plane. But a private pilot who has flown small planes could be able to fly a large passenger plane and possibly land it. The actions and the obstacles can be thrilling, but must be believable.

Avoid melodrama in your plot—the actions of a character without believable motivation. Action for the sake of action is empty and two-dimensional. Each character should have a pressing agenda from which the plot unfolds. That agenda is what motivates their actions. The reader should care about the individual’s agenda, but what’s more important is that the reader believes the characters care about their own agendas. And as each character pursues his or her agenda, they should periodically face roadblocks and never quite get everything they want. The protagonist should always stand in the way of the antagonist, and vice versa.

Another plot tripwire to avoid is deus ex machina (god from the machine) whereby a previously unsolvable problem is suddenly overcome by a contrived element: the sudden introduction of a new character or device. Doing so is cheap writing and you run the risk of losing your reader. Instead, use foreshadowing to place elements into the plot that, if added up, will present a believable solution to the problem. The character may have to work hard at it, but in the end, the reader will accept it as plausible.

Always consider your plot as a series of opportunities for your character to reveal his or her true self. The plot should offer the character a chance to be better (or worse in the case of the antagonist) than they were in the beginning. The opportunities manifest themselves in the form of obstacles, roadblocks and detours. If the path were straight and level with smooth sailing, the plot would be dull and boring. Give your characters a chance to shine. Let them grow and develop by building a strong skeleton on which to flesh out their true selves.

When you begin working on a new story, do you develop your plot or characters first? Do you believe that a book can be primarily “plot driven” or “character driven”?

Flashback to the future

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By Joe Moore

Flashback is a writing technique that allows the author to convey backstory while remaining in the present. It usually involves a situation in which something in a  current scene causes a character to reminisce or ponder a past event. The reason to create a flashback is to build character or advance the plot, or both. The secret to successfully employing this technique is to construct a smooth transition into and out of the flashback so as not to confuse the reader.

One of the easiest ways to enter a flashback is with the word “had”.

As Jim walked through his old neighborhood, a distant dog barking reminded him of the day he and his friends had skipped school to . . .

In addition, you want to shift the time progression from simple past tense (As Jim walked) to the past perfect tense (his friends had decided). Once you’ve entered the flashback and established the “past”, you can then revert back to simple past tense. At the conclusion of the flashback, use “had” again to transition back to current time.

Jim climbed the steps of his childhood home knowing those summer days with his friends had been the best times of his life.

In addition to transitions in and out of the flashback, it’s also important that the timeframe in which the flashback covers somewhat matches the real-time in which it’s experienced by the character. For instance, a flashback that covers the highs and lows of a woman’s previous marriage cannot be experienced during her stroll from the kitchen to the bedroom. But it would be an acceptable timeframe if she poured a glass of wine, strolled out onto her back porch and experienced it while sitting and watching the sun set and night fall. The reader must accept that the past and present timeframes are not unreasonably out of sync.

One final thought about flashbacks: it’s not a good idea to use one in the first few chapters. They can be quite confusing if thrown at the reader too soon. Wait until your reader has established at least a basic relationship with a character before taking them on a leap into the past. Flashbacks should be used sparingly. Better yet, use other techniques to relay backstory and avoid flashbacks altogether.

What do you think about flashbacks? Do you use them in your writing? As a reader, do they work for you? Are flashbacks a necessary evil or a solid writing tool?

Final Flight: a one-way ticket

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By Joe Moore

fresh-kills-cover-website1 As you probably have guessed by now, this is promote FRESH KILLS week. Our newly minted collection of short stories is available online at Amazon, Scribd and Smashwords, and may soon be making its appearance in other online stores. So why did seven established authors decide to put together a short story anthology and publish it ourselves? Remember that some of us (me included) have never written a short story before. Also remember that pricing our little shindig for $2.99 and splitting the net proceeds 7 ways will not make us rich. (John “Colonel Sanders” Miller is still going to have to sell a lot of those free-range eggs) Here’s why I think we did it.

It wasn’t that many years ago that publishing our own book would have been quite different. We would have placed it in the hands of an agent (7 to choose from), had her pitch it to all our publishers (another 7 among us) and if needed, other houses, hoped for a bite and maybe a huge advance that, after the 7-way split, would at least buy each of us a Happy Meal. Finally, we would have waited the 10-12 months for the book to hit the shelves.

Today, things are changing. That’s not to say that doing it the traditional way would not have worked. But in 2010, there are alternative methods of getting published. The route we took is NOT for everyone. But it is a route that is AVAILABLE to everyone. In our case, we are 7 published authors who make money writing fiction. Many of us have been on national and international bestseller lists. You can go into a bookstore and buy our books. We knew from day one that the quality of the contributed short stories would be good because we are professionals at our craft. We also have the highest regard for each other. With all that in mind, I think the reason we did it was because we could.

If FRESH KILLS sells well, great. If it doesn’t, that’s OK, too. We have virtually nothing to lose and everything to gain with this project. The point is, we banded together and within about a month, we went from a raw idea to a book published and available for sale to the public. We wrote the stories, designed the cover, formatted the text, opened the accounts, wrote the promotional blurbs and press releases, scattered the marketing announcements across the Internet, and maintained TOTAL control over our product.

Guess what folks? The publishing world is changing. And I think the seven of us feel some satisfaction that we are adapting to those changes.

So to give Miller’s chickens a break, download a copy of FRESH KILLS, Tales from the Kill Zone to your Kindle or PC today.

Now on to my short story contribution called FINAL FLIGHT. About 15 years ago, I had an idea for a novel about a pilot who was ordered to fly a secret mission with a mysterious cargo through a terrible winter storm. The cargo was an experimental nuclear weapon. He crashed in the mountains and the weapon was not found until years later when a group of terrorists located the wreckage and salvaged the bomb. I only wrote the first chapter before filing it away and moving on.

Now jump forward to last December when the idea of a Kill Zone anthology emerged. The first thing I did was start rummaging through my files for a story idea. Out jumped that first chapter from years ago. (Advice: never throw anything away) Of course, telling the original story would have resulted in 110k words and about a year’s worth of writing. So I thought, what if the cargo wasn’t a WMD but something even more devastating to one person in particular: the pilot. I quickly reworked the chapter and changed the ending. Problem was, I only had about 2k words. We had all agreed a minimum of 4k per story. I had a big hole in the middle to fill.

LBG1 That’s when I remembered an article I’d read some time ago about the disappearance of the WWII B-24 Liberator called the Lady Be Good. Coming back from a bombing run to their base on the northern coast of Africa, the B-24 became lost, over-flew the base, and crashed in the desert. This was in 1943. It’s a BIG desert. The wreckage wasn’t found until 1959, and the plane was still in pretty good shape 16 years later. After reading the article again, I realized I had my middle.

As I approached the writing of FINAL FLIGHT, I recalled my fascination for the old TV series The Twilight Zone. I loved the format, especially the surprise endings. So my goal was to write a story reminiscent of the TV series. The end result is FINAL FLIGHT.

Picture if you will . . . a lone C-47, a mysterious cargo, a clock and dagger mission, and a blizzard in which no pilot in his right mind would dare to fly. United States Army Air Corps Major Howard Murphy was under orders: fly the mission or face the consequences. But curiosity got the best of him as he left the cockpit for a quick look at what lay in the cargo bay. That’s when he got the shock of his life. FINAL FLIGHT is Major Murphy’s one-way trip to hell.

Enjoy.

It’s all an act

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By Joe Moore

Over at the Absolute Write forum, someone recently posted a request for advice on where to end the middle act of his novel. It was interesting to read the reactions, many of which expressed no idea that most novels are built on a 3-act structure. Now let me state right from the beginning that there are exceptions to every rule. And when it comes to writing fiction, the only rule is that there are no rules. But in general, most commercial fiction is usually based on a beginning, theater middle and end structure. This comes from traditional stage drama, but unlike the theater, there’s no curtain dropping at the end of Act 1 and going up at the beginning of Act 2. Even though it’s not as obvious as when you attend a play at your local community theater, if you analyze most genre fiction you’ll find (or at least feel) where the three acts begin and end.

So let’s take a look at the basic 3-act structure of a novel. In most cases, the beginning (Act 1), middle (Act 2) and ending (Act 3) are separated, not by points in time, but by major plotting points.

Act 1. The beginning is normally where the author introduces the reader to the setting/environment, the characters, their goals (wants and needs), and the conflict that impacts the protagonist’s life and launches the story. This impact knocks him or her from an ordinary situation into an extraordinary one. The protagonist might start out content with life, perhaps gliding along and comfortable in his or her niche. Then something happens to throw the protagonist out of the groove—an obstacle or roadblock that forces him or her to take some kind of action outside their comfort zone.  It’s often a shock to their routine or a threat to their safety or someone close to them. Perhaps it even requires survival instincts to kick in. A path is created that will eventually bring the protagonist and antagonist into a final climactic scene. In Act 1, the “story lotrquestion” is usually established such as, “Will Frodo Baggins destroy the Ring before the Dark Lord takes over the Shire and all of Middle Earth?” In Lord Of The Rings, by the end of Act 1, Frodo has decided to set out, although reluctantly, and pursue his quest to save his homeland and his people. As he takes his first step on his quest, the curtain descends on Act 1.

Act 2. The middle of the story often deals with a series of conflicts and obstacles that the protagonist must overcome in order to gain enough confidence to meet the final scene head-on. Arguably, the middle or “muddle” is the most challenging act to write, for the reader’s interest must be sustained while propelling the protagonist toward a goal that he or she and the reader desire. The element that fuels Act 2 is conflict, and each obstacle or test should build in severity from the previous one thus constantly raising the stakes and proceeding at a steady pace toward the end. The object here is to keep the reader reading. Remember too, that conflict does not always mean physical. It can be just as taxing and demanding when it’s emotional or spiritual. Act 2 also contains the lowest point in the story, emotionally or physically, for the protagonist. It usually occurs just before the end of Act 2 and the final Climax. It is the “darkest moment” in which all hope seems lost and the protagonist must summon up the final ounce of courage against all odds to resolve the story question. The resolution of the story question should happen at the Climax, and the curtain descends at the end of Act 2.

Act 3. The end is what some writers refer to as the “roundup”. This is where all loose ends, subplots, and lingering questions are answered. The reader should never finish the last page with any questions unanswered. The roundup is usually the final chapter, and because it’s hard to keep the reader’s attention after the climax, Act 3 should be short and to the point. Answer all the questions and proceed to the exits. There’s nothing left to see.

As readers, are you aware of the 3-Act structure in genre fiction? And as writers, do you think of it as you write, or is it more instinctive and subconscious? Have you ever written or read a book that was not based on the 3-Act form?

The Big Score

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By Joe Moore

Over at Murderati, my friend Brett Battles  recently blogged about writing while listening to music. Since I’m a big believer in doing it, I thought I’d add my two cents to the topic.

Lets start by looking at the cinema. Arguably, a movie would lose its impact without music. Even in the days of silent movies, there was a live piano player in the theater whose job was to add drama to each scene. You can have the greatest photography, acting, direction, set design and script, but without music, the movie would probably fall flat. Not to be confused with what some call movie soundtracks–usually a collection contemporary tunes–movie scores are written and orchestrated pieces of original music specifically score designed for a particular scene. They enhance and  support the visual images. If you listen to a movie score isolated from the visuals, it can verge on being classical in nature. As a matter of fact, I consider names like Trevor Jones, Randy Edelman, Hans Zimmer, Ennio Morricone, James Horner, John Williams, Howard Shore, and many others to be our modern day classical composers.

I discovered many years ago that I could also use the element of music to help me write. Someone gave me the CD score to THE MISSION with Robert De Niro. It happened to be playing on my stereo as I started a new chapter, and I realized that the music set exactly the same mood as the scene on which I was working. So from then on, as I watched movies I would pay particular attention to the scores. If they evoked the type of mood I sought in my WIP, or just set a very cool, dramatic, romantic or spooky mood, I would order the CD and rip it to MP3.

I now have a huge collection of scores on my computer and rarely sit down to write without my MP3 player on “shuffle”. I don’t use any music with lyrics since I find that other people’s words distract me. That’s why scores work so well—in most cases they are instrumental.

So if you’d like to try writing dramatic scenes to music, here’s a short list of my favorite CDs that seem to have it all when it comes to creating a mood found in most mysteries and thrillers.

A Beautiful Mind, James Horner

The Bone Collector, Craig Armstrong

Breach, Mychael Danna

Burn After Reading, Carter Burwell

Crash, Howard Shore

Diabolique, Rand Edelman

A Very Long Engagement, Angelo Badalamenti

The Forgotten, James Horner

Gothika, John Ottman

House of Sand and Fog, James Horner

The Human Stain, Rachel Portman

The Illusionist, Philip Glass

The Lives of Others, Gabriel Yared

March of the Penguins, Alex Wurman

Munich, John Williams

One Hour Photo, Reinhold Heil

Passengers, Edward Shearmur

Premonition, Klaus Badelt

Runaway Jury, Christopher Young

The Sentinel, Christophe Beck

The Hours, Philip Glass

The Missing, James Horner

Unfaithful, Jan Kaczmarek

Amazon lets you sample the tracks before you purchase, so enjoy listening then find the one that fits your WIP.

Do you write to music? Lyrics or instrumental. What are your top five CDs for background music while you write?

The Adventures of Balloon Boy

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By Joe Moore

I was listening to James Brown sing “It’s A Man’s World” while trying to decide on adding to the gender bias thread stitched so well into TKZ posts throughout the previous week. But since my fellow blogmates so thoroughly covered the SinC vs. PW dust-up and the related Venus and Mars writing debate, I chose instead to talk about Balloon Boy.

bb1 We all saw it on TV. The Jiffy Pop-shaped silver aircraft streaking over the Colorado landscape. It was mesmerizing watching the helicopters circled the makeshift flying machine like they were covering the arrival of visitors from another planet. The possibility of a 6-year-old boy being trapped inside with the chance that the craft might run out of air and crash or he could come tumbling out at any moment. And we would all witness him cartwheel through the air and slam into farmhouse tin roof or rusty 1950s Chevy pickup. It was drama at its finest. And no one could look away.

If this had been a novel, it would have shot past Dan Brown on the bestseller list with millions lined up to get their copy. As writers, we would have all been asking the same question: Why didn’t I write that? And as readers, we would have been curled up in our beds well into the late night turning those pages as we devoured the story to find out what happened next.

So what can we learn from Balloon Boy when it comes to writing novels? That his story had all the elements of a bestseller.

Initially, there was an immediate grab with extreme danger: Breaking News! A young child’s life was hanging by a thread. Like any great thriller, there was a ticking clock—how long would the craft be able to stay up? Then there was a growing mystery: was the child even in the balloon? The event was ripe with emotion—anyone with children knows the sickening feeling of helplessness as they watched. After all, it could have been their kid.

So we had danger, a young life at stake, time running out, mystery, and gut wrenching emotion. The protagonist was an innocent boy possibly frightened beyond belief and fighting for his life thousands of feet in the air—all in front of a captivated world. And he may only have minutes to live.

Now we all know that for every great protagonist, there should be an equally evil antagonist. In this case, an unlikely character emerged—the boy’s father. As the story progressed after our heavy sigh of relief at finding that the child had been home and save the whole time, the spotlight shifted to the parents, particularly the father. We soon found that he deceived us and caused everyone undue emotional stress. He forced his child to go along with the scheme to fulfill his own personal ambition of securing a family reality show. He even called the local network affiliate to report the runaway balloon before he dialed 911!

The mother was an equal co-conspirator willing to let the plan go forth with full knowledge of the deception. As fear for the child shifted to disgust for the parents and pity for the boy and his siblings, we were taken on a ride that saw our feelings shift from one grand emotion to another as distinctly as a color wheel spotlight shining on an old aluminum Christmas tree—fear, relief, suspicion, revulsion.

The conspiracy started to unravel when Balloon Boy let it slip on a national morning interview that they did it for the “show”. The dedicated local sheriff started digging deeper and finally was able to pull back the façade and expose this despicable conspiracy for what it really was—a lie to capture the headlines and to make money even at the expense of a child.

How does any great story end? The villains get caught and must face their just rewards. The parents have now pleaded guilty and may have to serve jail time.

So what can we learn from Balloon Boy? That it was all there in plain view—the main ingredients for a solid, absorbing and captivating thriller. Boy, I wish I’d written that.