Writing Past Discouragement

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Got an email the other day from a young writer, thanking me for my craft books, which she says helped her finish a 100k MS that was pubbed by a small publisher. She goes on:

But now the spark has left my writing, and I don’t know what to do. My book barely sold any copies. Everything since then feels like a slog. My writing’s gotten worse, not better. I tried to be more “literary” in an attempt to be better, and turned out convoluted garbage instead of good stories. I don’t know what to do. I don’t believe in quitting, but I haven’t finished a novel-length manuscript since my book failed. That’s abnormal for me—I’d usually have another done by now. I have ideas, but there’s no joy left. No spark.

I’ve been half-heartedly querying a manuscript but I don’t even know if I want to roll with trad publishing. It seems more and more like a rigged system that churns out pandering, poorly-written garbage instead of actual stories. I’ve been trying to self-publish, but that’s failing, too.

I’m at my wit’s end, and I don’t know what to do. I just want to get the joy back into my writing. I’m only 25, and I already feel like a washed-up failure. What do I do?

Any of us who’ve written professionally for any length of time know this feeling. So the first thing I’ll say is, You’re not alone. Indeed, I have many multi-published, bestselling friends who have all been there at one time or another. I sent a group email to this wise company and got some great responses, some of which I’ve cobbled together (those are the passages in quotes).

Several of the writers offered a subtle warning about lashing out a rigged system that churns out pandering, poorly-written garbage. Publishing is a business, and some of that “garbage” is enjoyable for the one who really matters in this transaction, the reader. “Writing is what we do for OTHER PEOPLE—to inform, entertain, inspire, educate, chastise, or provoke. The end product should be completely other-centered, and what we produce has to be something other people want and need. Sure, it can be well-done and artistic, but not at the cost of communicating something valuable.”

You don’t want to develop a victim mentality. And while it’s good to have some moxie when you’re young, sprinkle a little humility into the mix, too. Recognize you still have learning and growing to do. Run that attitude right alongside your confidence.

Also, several pointed out that writing is not always a joy. For them (and me) it’s also a job. It puts bread on the table, so “writers do the work whether there’s a ‘spark’ or not. In my decades of writing that ‘spark’ hasn’t happened many times. Maybe once a book. Maybe. My writing epitaph could read She did the best she could.”

“A truck driver doesn’t get up in the morning and say to himself, Ah, I don’t feel like driving today’.”

Even when the words aren’t flowing, remember, “Writing is never wasted – even when it feels spark-less or pointless or decidedly not joyful. We’re learning and progressing all the time, even when the rejection form letter comes, even when the bad reviews pile up or the sales numbers stall out or our muse flies away. We’re showing up and getting stronger in our craft with every single sentence.”

And there is also a joy that comes only after the hard work pays off. “The ONLY book I’ve written where I felt any spark in the writing was my first one when I didn’t have a clue what I was doing. I was just writing with joyous abandon, amazed at what was coming out. After learning that what was coming out was NOT so amazing after all, I started REALLY being a writer, aka studying the craft, rewriting and re-re-rewriting. From that point forward, the joy has come only after I’ve had a buffer of a few weeks or months between being in the thick of a rewrite and then reading fresh what I wrote. Only then do I occasionally think, “Wow! I wrote that? Not half bad!”

Some practical advice:

  • “Find encouraging people. People to cheer you on. Join writing groups. Sometimes talking about writing is a motivation booster. Find a writing buddy to be accountable to every day. Do writing spurts where you set the timer (15-25 minutes) and write without pausing.”
  • Do Morning Pages.
  • Don’t write for the money or the fame. That’s a by-product of writing good book after good book.
  • Set yourself a weekly word quota this way: figure out how many words you can comfortably write in a day, 250 minimum (“A Ficus tree can do 250 words a day. Don’t be shown up by a Ficus tree.” – JSB). Whatever you’re comfortably doing, up that by 10%. You need to stretch. Then turn that into a weekly goal. If you miss a day, you can make it up on the other days. If you miss your weekly mark, forget about it and start fresh the next week. Steady production is, in my opinion, the key to the whole business.
  • To get in flow with your story, concentrate on going deeper with your characters. Write some free form pages on their background, their emotions. Have them write you a letter. Listen to them. Very soon, you’ll be jazzed again.
  • As for Trad v. Indie, don’t be seduced by the speed of indie publishing. Put your book through the same grinder as you would when trying to land a contract. Better to have one good book come out in a year than five lousy efforts in six months. The former begins to build a readership; the latter sinks that boat.

On the positive side, young writer, you have done what many wannabes never do. You completed a novel that was good enough to have a publisher give it a shot. That’s not insignificant. Build on that.

Carpe Typem. Seize the Keyboard.

Over to you, TKZers. Anything you’d like to offer our young writing friend?

Humorous Words of Wisdom

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“Dying is easy, comedy is hard.” That’s certainly true in thrillers and mysteries. Humor can enrich an otherwise serious novel, lightening a reader’s mood at just the right time and providing emotional contrast.

Today’s Words of Wisdom looks at how to add funny into your fiction, with posts by Jordan Dane, James Scott Bell, and Reavis Wortham. The full posts for each excerpt are well worth reading, and date-linked below.

FIVE WAYS TO ADD HUMOR

2.) Write Earnest Dialogue With a Sarcastic Internal Monologue from the POV Character

Cut loose on your inner smart ass with this type of scene. The dialogue lines would read as idle banter or may not appear to have color, until the reader sees what the character is thinking or gets a whiff of their cynicism. Whether you write in first person POV or deep third, you can make this happen and add attitude to your character. Remember, people don’t censor their opinion when they think no one hears them, in their head. So let the sarcasm fly, without filter.

Example: From My WIP – Legacy in Blood. My 24-year old bounty hunter wannabe, Trinity LeDoux, argues with Hayden Quinn about coming along on a dangerous trip:

“We? Oh, no,” he said.

“Yeah, but that’s the deal. I go too.”

“That’s crazy. I’m not a coaster ride at Six Flags. You can’t buy a ticket and climb onboard.”

If Quinn were a ride, I’d definitely buy a ticket, but now wasn’t the time to embarrass us both. I had to find another way to pique his interest before he voted me off his island.

Example: Hayden notices Trinity is carrying a weapon when he “visits” her condemned warehouse home

“You’re carrying a weapon,” he said as he let me pass. “I feel better already.”

Busted. Okay, yeah. I had a gun tucked under my Ren and Stimpy T-shirt, my one big investment in my new career. I couldn’t read Hayden’s reaction, but his deadpan sarcasm had begun to grow on me.

I’d once argued that bullets were more valuable than a gun. My shooting instructor went ape shit crazy over that one, especially when I said, ‘Without bullets, any gun is only a passable paperweight.’ It’d been a chicken and egg argument. You had to be there.

3.) Use Funny Sounding Unusual Words to Add Color & Humor
How about these zingers? Bamboozled, bazinga, bobolink, bumfuzzle, canoodle, carbuncle, caterwaul, cattywampus, doohickey, gobsmacked, gunky are but a few of the words listed in my link below, but imagine how you might use these words in a story and who might say them. These words alone could stir your imaginings on a character.

Example: The word ‘parsimonious’ means stingy. Here is how I used it in my latest WIP – Legacy in Blood:

I hadn’t eaten since early yesterday. If Hayden didn’t kick me off his property, I’d eat enough to last. I’d stuff it in my cheeks like a parsimonious squirrel if I had to.
(The internal voice of Trinity LeDoux. She’s presently homeless and beggars can’t afford to be persnickety.)

4.) Try Tongue-in-Cheek/Deadpan Delivery in the Banter Between Characters
In my opinion, less is more. Write the banter in short punches and don’t explain. If the reader finds it funny, that’s good, but don’t overwork it by trying too hard to be funny. Also be mindful of pace. Too much of a diversion can slow the plot. Get in, get out. Or in the case of Robert Crais’s example below, add several quick schticks of the same idea (ie. John Cassavetes) through the book to reinforce the humor in short spurts.

Example: In Monkey’s Raincoat, Robert Crais carries on a schtick with Elvis Cole, PI. A new client flatters him by saying he looked like a young John Cassavetes. After that, Cole asks others if they think so too. Each short punch is funnier and funnier. Here’s one encounter:

“Tell me the truth,” I said. “Do you think I look like John Cassavetes twenty years ago?”

“I didn’t know you twenty years ago.”

Everyone’s a comedian.

Example of Lillian’s POV from my novella – Lillian & Noah:

“It’s a sexual fantasy site,” I said. “Members share their most intimate erotic fantasies on their profile.”

“In my day, guys just wrote those on a bathroom wall.” Vinnie snorted.

“Shut up, Vinnie. Let her finish.” Candy shushed him with her red nails. “What happens next, doll? I think I saw something like this on Days of Our Lives.”

I clenched my jaw as heat rushed to my face. Not even a pig in a blanket helped.

Jordan Dane—June 12, 2014

So let’s talk about humor used on occasion in an otherwise serious novel. Why have it at all? Comic relief, as the name implies, is a spot within the suspense where the audience can catch its breath. It delivers a slight respite before resuming the tension. It’s sort of like the pause at the top of a roller-coaster. You take in a breath, look at the nice view and then…BOOM! Off you go again. It adds a pleasing, emotional crosscurrent to the fictive dream, which is what readers are paying for, after all.

I see three main ways to weave humor into a novel: situational, descriptive, and conversational.

Situational

You can insert a scene, or a long beat within a scene, that takes its comic effect from the situation the character finds himself in. For an example I turn to the great Alfred Hitchcock, who almost always has comic relief in his masterpieces of suspense.

Like the auction scene in North by Northwest. Roger Thornhill (Cary Grant) has been mistakenly tagged as a U.S. secret agent by a group of bad guys. At one point, Thornhill walks into a fancy art auction to confront the chief bad guy (James Mason). But now he’s stuck there with three deadly henchmen waiting in the wings to send him to the eternal dirt nap.

So Thornhill hatches a plan. Act like a nut and cause a commotion so the cops will come in and arrest him, saving him from the assassins. This is how it goes down:

How do you find situational humor? You look at a scene and the circumstances and push beyond what is expected. Most humor is based upon the unexpected. That’s what makes for the punch line in a joke, for example. So make a list of possible unexpected actions your character might take or encounter, and surely one of them will be the seed of comic relief.

Descriptive

When you are writing in First Person POV, the voice of the narrator can drop in a bit of humor when describing a setting or another character. The master of colorful description was, of course, Raymond Chandler, through the voice of his detective, Philip Marlowe:

It must have been Friday because the fish smell from the Mansion House coffee-shop next door was strong enough to build a garage on. (“Bay City Blues)

From thirty feet away she looked like a lot of class. From ten feet away she looked like something made up to be seen from thirty feet away. (The High Window)

It was a blonde. A blonde to make a bishop kick a hole in a stained-glass window. (Farewell, My Lovely)

The girl gave him a look which ought to have stuck at least four inches out of his back. (The Long Goodbye)

For descriptive humor, listen to your character. Use a voice journal to let the character riff for awhile. You’ll unearth a nugget or two of descriptive gold.

Conversational

Dialogue presents many possibilities for humor. First, you can create characters who have the potential for funny talk. Second, you can take create conversational situations where such talk is possible. I had two great aunts who lived together in their later years. They had a way of subtly sniping at each other over minor matters, which was always a source of amusement to me. So I put them in my thriller, Long Lost, as two volunteers at a small hospital:

Just inside the front doors, two elderly women sat at a reception desk. They were dressed in blue smocks with yellow tags identifying them as volunteers. One of them had slate-colored hair done up in curls. The other had dyed hers a shade of red that did not exist in nature.

They looked surprised and delighted when Steve came in, as if he were the Pony Express riding into the fort.

They fought for the first word. Curls said, “May I help—” at the same time Red said, “Who are you here to—”

They stopped and looked at each other, half-annoyed, half-amused, then back at Steve.

And spoke over each other again.

“Let me help you out,” Steve said. “I’m looking for a doctor, a certain—”

“Are you hurt?” Curls said.

“Our emergency entrance is around to the side,” Red said.

“No, I—”

“Oh, but we just had a shooting,” Curls said.

“A stinking old man,” Red added.

“Not stinking,” Curls said. “Stinko. He was drunk.”

“When you’re drunk you can stink, too,” Red said.

“That’s hardly the point,” Curls said.

And it goes on like that.

I think you can develop an ear for this kind of humor by soaking in the masters of verbal comedy. Start with Marx Brothers, especially their five best movies: The Coconuts, Animal Crackers, Monkey Business, Horse Feathers, Duck Soup.

James Scott Bell—December 13, 2020

 

I sat in on a humor writing class once, and came out weeping. The presenter broke down humor with sentences like, “Writing comedically usually requires establishing a setup pattern and then misdirecting the reader by throwing in a punch line. The simplest way is to create a pair of ideas and then add an incongruent statement. I like to list three, because 30 is too many.”

Good lord.

How about misdirection, which can be funny by taking readers someplace they expect to go and suddenly shifting direction.

“I looked down at my five-year-old son who broke the window and lied about it. I was shocked to think he wouldn’t tell the truth, and had to get him to understand what he’d done wrong, so I knelt on one knee, took his small shoulders in my big hands and looked him in the eye. Son, I have something to tell you.”

“What?”

“Quit picking your nose.”

Most of the things we laugh at in real life are true stories that someone exaggerates for effect. I once wrote a column about running from a bear while wearing a backpack…

“That thing was right on my heels, and I ran like rats across the tundra. My backpack came open and I left a string of equipment behind, my tent, half the food I’d packed, tent stakes, the stove, a laptop computer, two cameras, a chair, the kitchen sink and a VCR along with all my John Wayne videos. Now light as a feather, I left the bear far behind, sniffing the laptop full of newspaper columns and probably wondering what stunk so bad.”

Some other things I’ve learned:

Don’t try to write jokes. Look for something that happened in real life and make a few changes. Here in Texas, every truck has a trailer hitch. We all know they’re right there, but when the guys get together, someone inadvertently barks his shin on the damn thing. While we curse and rub that shin, the rest laugh like loons. What is it that makes us guys giggle like little girls? We’ve all done it. Exaggerated familiarity is funny

Don’t tell your reader something is funny: “Hurts, don’t it,” he joked. Like the old saying goes, if you have to explain it, it ain’t funny.

Avoid sarcasm, except to identify a character.

Surprise your reader.

I’ve judged humor writing contests, and cousin, exclamation points don’t make a story funny!

Use humor sparingly, unless you’re shoving it in someone’s face, like this slightly insane column I wrote some years ago about an Outdoor Detective that somehow caught on with readers. I only produce one of these a year. They’re a lot like fruit cakes, you don’t want too many, but an occasional bite is good.

Reavis Wortham—November 27, 2021

***

  1. Do you enjoy some funny to go with the serious in your fiction?
  2. Do you have a favorite trick or tip to share about inserting humor into a novel?
  3. Is there an author you feel who does this especially well?

Reader Friday-The Sound of Silence

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Ever wonder if there’s a link between creating and music? Wonder no more!

The word ‘music’ finds its roots in the Greek word ‘mousike,’ derived from the noun ‘mousa,’ meaning ‘Muse.’

Ding, ding, ding!

And, interestingly enough, the antonym of music is silence. I found those tidbits here.

 

Questions for today are: What is your favorite kind of music?

And, do you read/create in silence, or do you commune with your muse while you’re “in the zone”?

Me? Silence every time and twice on Sunday. But, for pure listening pleasure, give me that old time rock and roll, with maybe a little Debussy thrown in!

 

Solving the Mystery of TOD

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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.

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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

Jaws: Great Thriller Or
Just A Bucket Of Chum?

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By PJ Parrish

So I got into an argument on Facebook the other day. No, not about that. It was over Jaws.

I posted something to the effect that I thought it was one of the greatest movies of all time. That prompted this response from a guy I came to call (in my head) Pencil-Neck:

“It isn’t even Spielberg’s best movie. It’s just commercial trash. Besides, the book is far better. You should read it.”

The gauntlet was thrown. Pencil-Neck didn’t have a chance.

Now, I admit I didn’t read Peter Benchley’s mega-seller when it came out in 1974.  Jaws was a huge success, the hardback sitting on the bestseller list for 44 weeks and the paperback selling millions. Steven Spielberg snatched up the rights a year later. You know the rest.

I finally did get around to reading the book — 35 years later. I had been invited by David Morell to write an essay for an anthology he was editing called Thrillers: 100 Must Reads, put out by the International Thriller Writers. All the good ones were taken by the time I got there — everything from Lee Child writing about Theseus and the Minotaur to Jefferey Deaver writing about Len Deighton’s The Ipcress File.  I chose Jaws because I think the shark ranks up there alongside Hannibal Lector as the greatest serial killer in all of fiction.

Then I read the book. Ah, geez. I was in trouble. The book was terrible.

I should have known just by looking at the cover. (I had to order a tattered used copy off Amazon). On the original cover, the killer fish looks like a toothless old dolphin. Compare that to the revised cover after the movie came out:

The original hardcover of "Jaws" vs. the paperback cover (that was used for the movie poster) : r/pics

This is one of those rare cases, I think, where the movie improved on the book. The critics in 1974 were brutal, taking Benchley to task for “lifeless characters,” “rubber-teeth plot” and “hollow pretentiousness.” The Village Voice sniped: “If there’s a trite turn to be made, Jaws will make it.”

Alas, all of it is true. The craftsmanship is bad-pulp level. The characters are corrugated cardboard.The plot is bogged down with cheesy subplots, eratz-Cheever class warfare, supernatural omens and some gin-fueled adultry (including a cringe-worthy groping scene between the police chief’s wife and Hooper in a booth at a seafood restaurant.)

Get this: The shark gets its own point of view.

Worse: Brody doesn’t kill the shark. It dies of its own wounds and sinks to the bottom of the sea.

Now, I recognize that novels are more expansive, that subplots contribute to enjoyment, and that organizing a story around a theme is good. For Benchley, the theme was that humans prey on each other by instinct and impulse like, well, sharks. The Brody-Ellen-Hooper love triangle is thus not a messy sub-plot but the point of the book. The shark is mere metaphor for human viciousness.

Sigh.

I also recognize that movies are a different kettle of fish, that plots must be streamlined, debris cleared away, and character inner-musings kept to a minimum. Spielberg’s movie is pure genius in this regard. He jettisoned all the subplots. And he conveyed character through dialogue and action. He transformed Benchley’s moody passive-aggressive Chief Brody into a classic Everyman warrior, swept up in Joseph Campbell’s monomyth of the hero’s journey.

And he blasts the hell out of the shark at the end.

So, what did I write about for that anthology? Pretty much what I’ve told you here. But I acknowledged that the shark is a terrific character, the best-rendered one in the book. Whenever he appears on the page, he pulls the narration along in his wake and diverts our attention from the tedious human dramas on land.

Second, the book tapped into a primal but believable fear. Benchley broke a barrier between fiction and non-fiction, giving us a predator stalking the real world (a benign beach no less!) but also emerging from a place of darkness and danger. Chief Brody is all of us when he thinks (in a passage that I do like):

In his dreams, deep water was populated by slimy savage things that rose from below and shredded his flesh, demons that cracked and moaned.

Lastly, it’s a helluva serial killer story. As one character says to Chief Brody in the book: “Sharks are like an ax murderer. People react to them with their guts.” (yeah, well, quite literally, right?)

Are there lessons to be learned here for us book writers? Sure. I use the movie Jaws as an example in plot workshops — see Powerpoint slide above. This is because Jaws is easy to digest for inexperienced writers who get lost at sea with plots or drift aimlessly trying to figure out character motivation. Here are just a couple things we can learn from Jaws — book vs movie.

  • Keep your subplots under control.
  • Don’t get preachy in your themes
  • Don’t whimp out with your ending and take the gun out of your hero’s hand.
  • Don’t write icky sex scenes set at the Red Lobster.

What’s the bottom line? What did I finally tell Pencil-Neck? I told him I stood by my assertion that Jaws is a great movie. I conceded the book had its good moments. That great thriller novels always pack a visceral punch and stay with us long after we’ve turned off the light. Benchley created the second most famous fish in fiction. Not too shabby.

Benchley gets the last word: “It’s nice being a little rich and a little famous. But dammit, I didn’t intend to rank with Melville.”

So, crime dogs…do you have your own examples of book vs movie? What did you learn from comparing books vs movies? And don’t get me started on The Bridges of Madison County.

 

Does Your Story Have a Full Circle Moment?

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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.

Four Dialogue Tips

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

I’ve always contended that sharpening your dialogue is the fastest way to improve any manuscript. I’ve heard editors and agents say they often take a submission and turn to a dialogue section. That’s because no matter how good the concept, flat, flabby, bland dialogue almost always means the writer is lacking in other areas.

Conversely, if your dialogue zings it demonstrates that you know what you’re doing and engenders trust in you as a writer.

Of course, this goes for readers, too. They love great dialogue. Provide it, and you’ll sell some books.

Here are four quick dialogue tips for your consideration:

Foreign Language

Sometimes you may have a character who has a foreign language as their primary tongue. My Romeo series takes place mostly in and around Los Angeles, so foreign tongues abound, especially Hispanic.

Certainly, you don’t want long blocks of foreign words, like this:

“Te lo digo, James Scott Bell es el mejor escritor de todos los tiempos. Si lees alguno de sus libros, lo sabrás. Mis favoritos personales son los libros de la serie de suspenso de Mike Romeo.”

For a short word or phrase, I’ll italicize it. If it’s a common word most people know, I don’t need to translate. Thus:

“Do you live here?” I said.

“Sí,” he said.

If it’s a longer line that requires translation, you can render it a few ways. Elmer Kelton in The Time it Never Rained, has this:

“No me mate!” the voice pleaded. “Me rindo!” (“Don’t kill me! I surrender.”)

You can also use other characters:

“No me mate!” the voice pleaded. “Me rindo!”

“What was that?” Smith said.

Jones said, “He saying he surrenders, don’t kill him.”

Or you can write:

He started rambling in Spanish. I caught a few words. It sounded like a surrender.

This is an area of the craft that had a lot of flexibility. The only “rule” is: Don’t confuse the reader. Eso es muy malo.

Interruptions

Fictional talk should have some tension or outright conflict. If a scene of yours seems to be dragging, try starting an argument. And have the characters interrupt each other.

In fiction, you show an interruption by use of the em-dash followed by a close quote. No period or other punctuation. You then immediately give us the other character’s quote. This is from Dashiell Hammet’s The Thin Man:

“Let’s go away,” she suggested. “Let’s go to Bermuda or Havana for a week or two, or back to the Coast.”

“I’d still have to tell the police some kind of story about that gun. And suppose it turns out to be the gun she was killed with? If they don’t know already they’re finding out.”

“Do you really think it is?”

“That’s guessing. We’ll go there for dinner tonight and—”

“We’ll do nothing of the kind. Have you gone completely nuts? If you want to see anybody, have them come here.”

When a character’s voice trails off, use ellipsis.

“I was wondering . . .”

I glanced at my watch. “Yes?”

“Hm?”

“What were you wondering?”

“Um, I forgot.”

Stylized Realism

In Debbie’s recent post about the Flathead River Writers Conference, I was fascinated by one of the questions a literary agent when considering a manuscript, to wit: Is the dialogue trying too hard to be realistic?

I think I know what she means. Sometimes a new writer will write dialogue that sounds like a transcript of an overheard conversation at Starbucks. If questioned about this, the writer might say, “But that’s how they’d really sound!”

This is a fundamental error. Dialogue in fiction should not be “pure” realism. It should be stylized realism for fictional purposes. The main purposes are to characterize the speaker and move the plot along. You want the sound of real speech without the fat or fluff that usually goes along with it.

Perhaps, too, the agent was indicating an aversion to the abundant cursing we often see on the page, in an attempt to reproduce what one hears on the street. Without understanding stylized realism, that attempt is more off-putting than attractive.

Does that mean you must have your gangbanger character say things like, “Oh, fudge. I’m going to muss you up, you foul stench.” Of course not. Watch some old Law and Order episodes to see how they manage stylized “hard” language. Or read Romeo’s Way, which has no curse words yet has a character who curses a blue streak. It can be done.

Action Beats and Said

A dialogue attribution has one simple job: to let the reader know who is speaking. Good old reliable said does that cleanly, efficiently, then politely leaves before causing any trouble. It can come after or before the dialogue:

“Come out to the car,” she said.

She said, “Come out to the car.”

In a longer line of dialogue, said can be placed in the middle:

“I think I’d better leave,” Millicent said, “before I lose my temper.”

An action beat is a nice, occasional substitute for said.

John pounded the table. “I will not have it!”

With a question, you can use said or asked:

“What shall we do?” Sarah said.

“What shall we do?” Sarah asked.

Whispered is also acceptable, as there’s no pithier way to express it.

If you feel the need to use a descriptive tag like growled or declared, etc., fine. Just don’t make a habit of it. You don’t want readers noticing all the attributions. I prefer letting the surrounding action and context make clear how something is said.

Some writers, under the erroneous impression that said is not creative enough, will strain to find ways not to use it for an entire book.

Big mistake. Action beats put the reader’s mind to work. In bits, that’s no problem. But an unending series of action beats has a wearying effect. The readers might not even realize why they are not enjoying the book as much as they thought they would.

That’s enough talk for one post. Now it’s your turn. Comments or questions welcome.

 

 

A Life Unremembered

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I have this fascination with houses.

It might have originated with my grandparent’s old homestead. Peeling wallpaper, bare wire bulbs, and push-button switches, it was an old, old structure with no air conditioning, or plumbing for that matter, but it had a tin roof that thundered under a heavy deluge and huge double-hung windows that rippled in the evening light.

My grandparents moved from that one to a much smaller frame farmhouse with indoor plumbing and a window unit, but no functional kitchen sink until I installed one nearly twenty years later. That homestead still figures in some of the stories that flow from my fingertips.

But the one I want to discuss today was about two hundred yards from my grandparent’s place, slumped in the middle of a washout pasture. With nary a drop of paint on the outside, the nine-hundred square foot (and that’s a guess) house was abandoned probably ten years before I hit the ground.

I was told one an old bachelor uncle I never met was the last inhabitant, but he was an influence on my life, and ultimately, my writing. From the looks of the interior, he one day picked up, packed up what he wanted, and walked away, leaving a life unremembered.

When we were kids, my cousin and I often visited that former residence that could have been the set for a slasher movie. Four long-dead trees reached skeletal arms into the air not far from the structure. They’d provided shade when he lived there, and were likely planted by the long-forgotten builders.

Two others had fallen across what was once a main dirt road leading from Arthur City to Chicota, Texas, and had flanked the house. The state built a new creek bridge and re-routed what was to become Highway 197, leaving the old dirt trace to fade into obscurity.

Sad, because the house under discussion and another unpainted domicile belonging to my blind great-great aunt Becky faced that same track, as well as the Assembly of God Church.

NOTE: After the re-route, the men of that small community engineered a way to lift the church and turn it 45-degrees to face a different oil road. To me, fascinating.

I loved to visit that great-uncle’s house that smelled of dirt dauber’s nests and ancient mouse droppings. The door was gone, as well as the windows on either side, likely salvaged for another build somewhere, giving the illusion of a blank, wide-eyed expression of open-mouthed shock.

The porch sagged, and inside, the bare, warped floors undulated like the surface of the ocean,. The rusty sheet-iron roof bent and curled toward the sky, loose sheets creaking in the wind that was responsible for its eventual demise.

It had a kitchen with one counter and two holes in the surface to hold dishpans. The doorless cabinets still held dishes and bowls. Dust-covered utensils on crusted plates were evidence that he’d eaten and left. A rusty iron bedstead with a frazzled cotton mattress took up the lone bedroom floor. Straight-back wooden chairs with cane seats sat in the silent living room, roosts for birds that spend the nights there.

As adventurous kids, Cousin and I often crept through the dead house in silence, looking at the remnants of life. An old suit coat lay tossed in one corner, a bed for stray dogs or coyotes. A pair of work pants hung on a nail driven into the bedroom door where he left them.

After poking around without touching a thing, we always walked out onto the rotting porch to look toward the south. Two gullies extended from the yard at an angle of embrace. They would eventually erode all the way to the structure itself. One was full of tin cans, glass, and whatever refuse he had no use for. It was his version of a landfill.

I was grown and married the last time I visited the house. Defying the odds, it was still standing, though slumped and completely worn out. The pants still hung behind the door, thought the chewed coat was nothing more than a few fibers. A rat snake had taken up residence in the now floorless kitchen, and slithered away when I stood in the door and consider my own memories, and possibly what Uncle had seen.

It’s gone now, bulldozed over for a new build thrown up with little or no character.

That old house somehow took up space in my psyche, and I’d like to think it eventually had something to do with my college career in architecture.

It’s there in dreams, and daydreams, and I can’t tell you why.

It was a dead house that meant nothing to me, but somehow influenced my life and writing.

Is there some special thing or place that still haunts you, as this former home does me?

Reader Friday-Feeling A Bit Contrary?

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Maybe I’m just an information-stunted writer, but here’s a new word for me. Maybe for you, too?

Contronym.

(BTW, it was new to the dictionary here at TKZ, too . . . I had to add it.) But I digress.

Fun, huh?

What’s a contronym, you ask. It’s those words common to the English language that “can have opposite or contradictory meanings”. I found a website with a list of 75 contronyms. And there’s a slew of other websites you can check out if you’re feeling a bit contradictory this beautiful Friday.

I took the liberty of downloading this quick list for you, just to give you an idea of how these words “work”. (I hope you can read it.)

One of the cautions noted on this website is that, as an author, if we use one of these special words in our writing we must be clear in the context which meaning should be applied. It could get a bit confusing, right?

For instance, consider the word “aught”. If your character slams his fist down on the desk and yells, “Aught was paid!” the reader will deduce nothing was paid. Without the slamming and yelling or other contextual details, your reader won’t know if all was paid or nothing was paid.

TKZers, have you ever heard of contronyms? And can you come up with your own? (Maybe after your second or third cuppa joe?)

 

There’s Always Writing Fodder

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There’s Always Writing Fodder
Terry Odell

house burning I live in a rural mountain subdivision in Colorado. Last week, there was a house fire very near to my house. Firefighters (all volunteer here) showed up quickly and began their attack. The structure was too far gone to save, and the dried grasses which had grown quite tall due to a wet spring and summer, caught quickly. The wind, fortunately for us, was blowing everything in the opposite direction, but was pushing the fire into other subdivisions.

Things seemed all right, but the winds intensified the next day, with 50+ mile per hour gusts, and the Sheriff declared our entire subdivision under evacuation orders. The Hubster wasn’t in town, and after a brief discussion, we decided it was smart for me to follow the orders. I’d rather be packed up and leaving mid-day rather than discover the fire had shifted direction later that night, and was now coming our way. There’s only one road in and out of our subdivision, and the thought of dealing with leaving in the middle of the night didn’t appeal. Nor did being trapped. I have a son who lives not that far away, and he has a guestroom, so that’s where I went.

Although very little of our subdivision was affected, the higher ups decided to name the fire after it. Word spread through social media, and I had mixed feelings about being thankful for everyone who wanted to know how I was, and trying to reassure everyone I was fine, while trying to get everything that I needed to pack up so I could leave.

All in all, it was a “small” fire—under 200 acres. Seven hundred homes were at risk, but only that first one, where the fire started, was lost.

I was only gone for 24 hours, but it was a lesson in preparedness, and knowing what the essentials are should you have to leave in a hurry.

I posted a much more detailed accounting of my experiences on my own blog. If you’re interested, it’s here.

My heartfelt thanks to the first responders, and to our Sheriff who coordinated getting firefighters, law enforcement, air support, heavy equipment, and everything else that goes with fighting a fire mobilized quickly—and to use his terms—aggressively.

Of course, everything is writing fodder, and the circumstances surrounding this “event” opened a number of possibilities.

Our subdivision has a Facebook group, and there was—as might be expected—a lot of action. The house that burned to the ground was owned by a woman with a sketchy reputation in the hood. She had mental health issues, had a reputation for running cars off the road, pulling a gun or a knife, and had spent time in jail. The house was in foreclosure the day of the fire, and due to go up for auction in a couple of weeks.

Consensus seems to be that the (former) owner was responsible for the fire. An accident or deliberate? The case is still under investigation. Someone reported seeing her watching from the street as her house burned. Suspicious behavior or genuine concern?

Some residents offered extreme sympathy, pointing out that she was apologizing profusely, with abundant tears. She didn’t mean it, and it was a tragedy, and she should be forgiven.

Others spoke up that she should have been arrested on the spot. (She was detained, but released.)

Still others brought God into the picture, because the tall cross that was in the woman’s yard was spared. Was it divine intervention, or just located far enough away to not be burned?

The house in question was on one of my regular walking routes. What I saw was how close the fire had come to the three nearby houses. The yards surrounding them were charred. Had a gust of wind sent embers flying, those houses could have been destroyed as well. It was only because the firefighters arrived so quickly that they were able to keep those homes from burning, too.

view of houses spared by a fire

photos taken by a local resident.

 

Vocabulary word of the week: Mitigation

I wonder whether the residents of those homes would be on the ‘forgiveness’ side of the fence. And what about all the other homes in the other subdivisions that were threatened, whose owners had to evacuate in a hurry?

Even if I have no intention of writing a fire story (I already included several fire incidents in my Mapleton books), the human nature aspect offers plenty of character fodder. Then, there’s drawing on the emotional reactions, which can be incorporated in a variety of other situations.

What writing/character fodder do you see in these events, TKZers?

New! Find me at Substack with Writings and Wanderings

Double Intrigue
When your dream assignment turns into more than you bargained for
Cover of Double Intrigue, an International Romantic Suspense by Terry Odell Shalah Kennedy has dreams of becoming a senior travel advisor—one who actually gets to travel. Her big break comes when the agency’s “Golden Girl” is hospitalized and Shalah is sent on a Danube River cruise in her place. She’s the only advisor in the agency with a knowledge of photography, and she’s determined to get stunning images for the agency’s website.

Aleksy Jakes wants out. He’s been working for an unscrupulous taskmaster in Prague, and he’s had enough. When he spots one of his coworkers in a Prague hotel restaurant, he’s shocked to discover she’s not who he thought she was.

As Shalah and Aleksy cruise along the Danube, the simple excursion soon becomes an adventure neither of them imagined.

Like bang for your buck? I have a new Mapleton Bundle. Books 4, 5, and 6 for one low price.

Terry Odell is an award-winning author of Mystery and Romantic Suspense, although she prefers to think of them all as “Mysteries with Relationships.”