What Type of Writer Are You?

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

John D. MacDonald and his lunchpail

I have been musing about something of late. Call it a typology of writers. Here the categories I’ve come up with, recognizing there will be some overlap. Let’s discuss.

1. Nothing But Fun

There are some writers who believe writing fiction should be nothing but a joy, carefree, never a matter of sweat or concern. Under this category, there are two sub types. The first believes that a carefree first draft is the only draft it should be written. Cleaned up a bit for typos, perhaps, but left mostly alone. The other subtype writes that first draft and then looks at it and wonders what the heck to do with it, and tries to apply some actual craft and editing.

2. Hate Writing, But Love Having Written

I know a few colleagues who fit this category. They find writing a first draft to be a somewhat difficult trudge. Sometimes this is because their standards go up with each book. The bar is raised. And they seriously want to meet that challenge.

But when they are done with the whole process, including editing and polishing, and the book is the better for it, they find tremendous satisfaction.

3. Lunchpail Type

This is a writer who goes to work each day. They’re not looking for a rapturous experience, though that may happen when they’re not looking. They set out to write a certain number of words each day and do that job. They know their craft and care about it, because they want to sell to readers, and readers care about good stories. The great pulp writers of old were like this. They could type 1 million words a year, sometimes more, and sell their product for a penny or two per word.

4. Doesn’t Care About Sales

In truth, I think every writer cares about sales. Who wouldn’t appreciate a little green from what they write? There’s that famous Samuel Johnson quote: “No man but a blockhead ever wrote except for money.” But this type of writer rejects that notion and finds their satisfaction in writing alone. Nothing wrong with that. Writing can be a form of enjoyment, diversion, mental exercise, or escape.

5. Only Cares About Sales

Finally, there is the writer who is in this strictly for the money. There’s never been anything illegal about that. If somebody write something and there’s a market for it, that’s a fair exchange. But these days it’s possible to make money producing acres of “AI slop.” We all wish this weren’t true, but it is. This type shouldn’t even be categorized as a “writer.”

On the other hand, someone who sees writing as a way to make money, or at least side-hustle dough, and works to figure out how to write a good product, fine. I suspect this is the least populated category.

In reviewing this list, I would put myself as a #3. I’ve always written to a quota. I have also found tremendous satisfaction in learning my craft and getting better at it.

So what do you think about the above categories? Would you add one? Modify one? Where would you place yourself?

Words of Wisdom from January 2010

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For my first post of 2026 I decided to look for KZB posts published sixteen years ago this month. It was hard winnowing it down to three excerpt, but choose I did.

First is a post by Claire-Langley Hawthorne about meeting the challenge of writing a short story by laying out the structure first. Next is an evergreen post by James Scott Bell dealing with the structure of a novel. Last is a touching post by John Ramsey Miller on experiencing death and how that can deeply inform our writing.

I view a short story as having a single transformative story arc – one told in the most concise and most powerful terms possible. All fine and dandy in theory but no sooner do I start than I fall prey to an overabundance of backstory and plot complications – and these little buggers have an annoying habit of multiplying, so by the time I reach around 4,000 words I realize what I really have is, you guessed it, chapter one of a new novel. Characters have already started taking control, offering me a range of complexities that I can’t help but want to explore, the setting demands detailed description which I cannot resist providing and the story arc takes on a much grander scale that will inevitably fail as a short story.

With this particular short story (which I’m hoping will pass muster and be published in the Kill Zone collection you’ll be hearing much more about) this dilemma created both opportunities as well as challenges. I had to rise to the challenge of paring everything down so it would succeed as a short story and I realized I had the seeds for a new series set in Australia which was quite exciting (oddly enough I’ve never written anything actually set in the land I grew up in).

My first step to transforming my piece into a ‘proper’ short story was to think about structure. I focused on the four main elements I thought I needed:

  1. Establishment of setting
  2. A trigger for action
  3. A build up of suspense and conflict
  4. A critical choice
  5. Resolution

When I found I basically had all these elements (albeit muddied by too much dialogue, description and backstory!) I knew my main focus had to be on paring everything down to its essential elements. This included character, setting, as well as plot and once I started this process I also found that I could focus on what the story was really all about.

Last Friday I took my short story to my writing group for their critique and they helped me identify areas of improvement and further ‘pruning’ – hopefully I’m now close to the final product and, more importantly, I feel like I’ve grappled with a new challenge that has improved me as a writer.

I can’t say I like the short story as a medium – I am a novelist at heart – but I do appreciate the intensity and power it can bring. I may not have enjoyed the process but as compensation I do have a new (male) protagonist that intrigues me. So who knows, this particular challenge may spur me on to develop a whole new series of books!

Claire-Langley Hawthorne—January 11, 2010

 

Now, the first doorway is an event that thrusts the Lead into the conflict of Act 2. It is not, and this is crucial, just a decision to go looking around in the “dark world” (to use mythic terms). That’s weak. That’s not being forced.

A good example of a first doorway is when Luke Skywalker’s aunt and uncle are murdered by the forces of the Empire in Star Wars. That compels Luke to leave his home planet and seek to become a Jedi, to fight the evil forces. If the murders didn’t happen, Luke would have stayed on his planet as a farmer. He had to be forced out.

In Gone With the Wind it’s the outbreak of the Civil War. Hard to miss that one. No one can go back again to the way things were. Scarlett O’Hara is going to be forced to deal with life in a way she never wanted or anticipated.

In The Wizard of Oz, it’s the twister (hint: if a movie changed from black and white to color, odds are you’ve passed through the first doorway of no return).

In The Fugitive, the first doorway is the train wreck that enables Richard Kimble to escape, a long sequence that ends at the 30 minute mark (perfect structure) and has U. S. Marshal Sam Gerard declaring, “Your fugitive’s name is Dr. Richard Kimble. Go get him!”

The second doorway, the one that closes Act 2 and leads to Act 3, is a bit more malleable, but just as critical. It is a clue or discovery, or set-back or crisis, one which makes inevitable the final battle of Act 3. It is the doorway that makes an ending possible. Without this, the novel could go on forever (and some seem to for lack of this act break).

In The Fugitive, at the 90 minute mark (the right placement for a film of just over two hours), Kimble breaks into the one-armed man’s house and finds the key evidence linking him with the pharmaceutical company. This clue leads to the inevitable showdown with the “behind the scenes” villain.

In High Noon, the town marshal reaches the major crisis: he finally realizes no one in the town is going to help him fight the bad guys. That forces him into the final battle of Act 3, the showdown with the four killers.

By the way, this structure works for both “plot driven” and “character driven” stories. It’s just that the former is mainly about outside events, and the latter about the inner journey. But that’s beyond the scope of this post.

Now, there is always some well meaning literary genius howling in protest at the idea of structure. Too rigid! I don’t write by formula! I am a rule breaker, a rebel! An artist! Away with your blueprints and let me run free! The 3 act structure is dead!

Let me say, first, I understand this artistic impulse. A good writer is a rebel, someone out to make waves.

But let me also say that the literary waters are littered with the works of those who ignored the basic principles of the suspension bridge. Unreadable novels with pretty words that didn’t sell.

You want to write an experimental novel? Go for it. Just be aware that not a whole lot of people are going to care.

What they care about are characters, dealing with trouble by fighting their way over a bridge—meaning, through a plot that matters and is laid out in the right way.

Structure is “translation software” for your imagination. You’ve got a great story in your head. The characters, the feeling, the tone, the gut appeal, the thing you want to say. But it means squat unless you can share it with other people, namely, readers.

Structure allows you to get your story out with the greatest possible impact.

James Scott Bell—January 16, 2010

 

Like Gilstrap wrote on his blog, I also think and write about death and destruction and it’s a subject I know better than I’d like. I have seen death and the destruction guns and knives and cars can do to human beings and it made quite an impression on me starting at an early age. We lived across the street from a funeral home when I was ten or so, and that was where my experience began. Our neighborhood kids used to lie on our stomachs and watch Mr. Barry embalm people in the basement. He always had the louvered-glass windows open and he never saw us as his back was usually to us. It was like watching horror movies. We used to run when we heard the ambulances heading for the hospital and we’d stand, an audience of innocents, watching as some unfortunate victim was wheeled in on a gurney. Often the ambulance (again Mr. Barry) would often make a quick stop before putting the vic back into the ambulance (it doubled as the hearse for black funerals at the other Barry home in another part of town) and it had red lights in the grill and a howling siren. The lights were covered with black cloth baggies for funerals. It showed me a side of death I’ve carried with me since.

I have a problem in that I never know what to tell kids about death, how to explain it without instill fear and worry in them. I told Sasha that the old moves aside so the young can have room to grow up, that it was true with every living thing. I told her that dying was just like being born into this world but in another place. I’m not sure about that but I don’t mind lying to children about that.

Before my funeral home days in Starkville, Mississippi, when I was five or six, my eighty-four-year old grandfather died, and I remember how empty I felt and how sad it made me. I took little consolation in people telling me he was in heaven. I only knew he was never coming back and that I’d never sit in his lap and use his pocket knife to carefully cut cubes of tobacco for him to chew. I’d never hear him tell me stories about his life as a cattleman, about gunfights in downtown Hazzlehurst, about driving cattle in storms, of lean times, of being gored by a bull and thrown by horses into bad places. Although I took no consolation in the idea of Papa in heaven, I did in the fact that he died of a stroke while cheering the Friday Night Fights on TV in the nursing home. I am so glad that I knew him for the years I did, and how he called my mama, “baby” and I thought she was truly old.

As I’ve grown older I’ve seen a lot of people I knew and loved die, and it’s never easy. Never. But it has given me feelings to run my fingers over and to put into my words.

John Ramsey Miller—January 30, 2010

***

  1. How do you meet a writing challenge?
  2. What helps you with structuring you novels?
  3. Experiencing death is one of the most emotional aspects of being human. Has it deepened your own writing? If so, how?

Winston Churchill and His 15 Favorite Paraprosdokians

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After I posted last month, which was my first post ever for The Kill Zone, I realized that many of you may not know much about me. But since I had already scheduled the post, and it was my last post of the year as well as my first, I made an executive decision to wait until my first post in January to properly introduce myself (Oh, and Happy 2026!). So here goes.

I’m Patricia Bradley, and I write Inspirational romantic suspense for Revell. Since 2013, I’ve written five novellas, 18 novels, and I’m currently working on the 19th. Since I’m not a fast writer, that means I’ve spent the last 12 years mostly sitting at my computer, living my dream. I also teach workshops on writing. In 2012, I met James Scott Bell in a line dance in St. Louis…or Cincinnati, I forget which. He was dancing…I was not. And I doubt he remembers it.

I have a website where you can learn more about me, and a Tuesday blog where I feature a Mystery Question, usually about dumb criminals. I feature four scenarios three of which are true and one that I made up. Readers guess which one I made up. You can find the blog at https://ptbradley.com/blog/.

Enough about me. Now on to my post about Winston Churchill’s favorite paraprosdokians. (We all know how accurate AI is, so they may or may not be his favorites.) Also, according to AI, Paraprosdokians are figures of speech where the latter part of a sentence provides an unexpected twist or surprise, forcing the listener/reader to reinterpret the first part, often for humorous or dramatic effect, like, “If at first you don’t succeed, skydiving definitely isn’t for you” or “I’ve had a perfectly wonderful evening, but this wasn’t it“.

Winston Churchill was known for loving paraprosdokians. Here are a few AI says he loved:

  1. Where there’s a will, I want to be in it.
  2. The last thing I want to do is hurt you, but it’s still on my list.
  3. Since light travels faster than sound, some people appear bright until you hear them speak.
  4. If I agreed with you, we’d both be wrong.
  5. Knowledge is knowing a tomato is a fruit. Wisdom is not putting it in a fruit salad.
  6. They begin the evening news with “Good Evening”, then proceed to tell you why it isn’t.
  7. To steal ideas from one person is plagiarism. To steal from many is research.
  8. I thought I wanted a career. Turns out I just wanted paychecks.
  9. In filling out an application, where it says, ‘Emergency contact’, I put ‘doctor’.
  10. You do not need a parachute to skydive unless you want to do it again.
  11. Money can’t buy happiness, but it sure makes misery easier to live with.
  12. You’re never too old to learn something stupid.
  13. Where there’s a will, there are relatives.
  14. During WWII Sir Winston Churchill’s address to Congress began with:
    “It has often been said that Britain and America are two nations divided only by a common language”.

Do you have any favorite paraprosdokians to start this New Year with?

A Dynamite Film Review Plus Lessons Learned

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By John Gilstrap

Okay, folks, SPOILER ALERTS AHEAD FOR “A HOUSE OF DYNAMITE”

Kathryn Bigelow’s celebrated new thriller, “House of Dynamite” is, in this writer’s humble opinion, something of a master class in how not to write a thriller. To be sure, the premise is gripping: A nuclear missile is detected en route to an as-yet unknown target in the United States, launched by an unknown enemy. This happens at a time when the U.S. is at Defcon 4 (peacetime) and during shift change in the White House Situation Room. Time to impact:18 minutes.

The first minute or so is wasted on what resonated as truth to me: “Wait, that can’t be right, can it? Is it a computer glitch?” Then, Captain Olivia Walker, the duty officer in the Situation Room calms everybody down. There are procedures to be followed, people to be notified, and actions to take. America fires two interceptor missiles (only two) to take out the incoming warheads, but they both miss, and the National Command Authority (NCA) accepts the inevitability of a nuclear strike in Chicago. (I’m not going to address the ridiculous plot holes, except for the one where Captain Walker, who lives in Virginia and clearly loves her husband, surreptitiously call him and tells him to get in the car and drive west–toward the incoming nuclear blast.)

The intense 18 minute period from launch to impact is presented more or less in real time, but just before impact, the film shifts to show the same events from the points of view of the various people we know that Captain Walker has been interacting with–saving the president, of course, for last. Call it 20 minutes of screen time. Out of a 90-minute movie.

The rest of the film shows the same actions, same results, from different points of view.

Twenty minutes in, I was breathless. I thought, Wow, what an exciting yet flawed, implausible movie! Then came the reality that they were going to quadruple-down on the same flaws and implausibilities, just from a different angle. WTF?

But I don’t want to talk plot. I want to talk structure and character, and that’s where this film truly fails.

The filmmaker was making a point rather than a piece of entertainment.

Eighteen minutes ain’t a lot of time to make 100% correct decisions under stress. Got it. (And from submarine based platforms off the East Coast, the flight times are more like eight minutes.) Presidents, played in this case by Idris Elba, whose talents are woefully squandered, don’t spend a lot of their spare time scouring the target packages contained in the infamous “football”, which itself is cared for in the film by a twenty-something junior officer. Got it again. Awesome decisions must be made on the fly. Finally, horror of horrors, government officials give their families a heads up to get out of town before the roads become impassible. (Between you and me, I would 100% do that. RHIP, baby.)

The flaw in the film is that everybody simply follows the book–literally and figuratively. No one dares to fire an unauthorized third interceptor missile in attempt to save millions of lives even if it scorches their career. (Okay, I can’t resist a plot comment here. They limit the interceptor package to two missiles because they might need more if there’s a second attack. Better to char the Windy City. That made sense to a Hollywood writer. Someone needs a good old-fashioned Three Stooges slap, hair-pull and eye-poke.)

Reading procedures, discussing the efficacy of procedures, and then ultimately following them is . . . what’s the word? Oh, yeah. Boring.

A thriller is about characters taking chances and succeeding or failing as a result.

I don’t care about anyone in this film.

This reflects back on the intellectual origins of the film. Every character is merely a game piece to be manipulated to bring the larger points home. Once NCA wrote off the millions of innocents in the greater Chicagoland area, why would I give a rat’s patootie whether or not SecDef gets a last chance to tell his daughter he loves her? We all love our kids, buddy, and you just shrugged at toasting millions of them.

Stakes and tension are different things.

Within the first ten minutes of this turkey, we know the the Miracle Mile will soon be baked to glass because the screenwriter says it must be so. In storytelling parlance, I believe that’s called a Big Reveal. Normally, those are saved for the third reel, not the first. All that remains is the question of how the president should respond. The military cliche, of course, pushes for a global, kill-everybody response, and President Elba seems confused and disturbed by the plastic-sheeted four-color Denny’s-like menu sheets that details the pre-targets smorgasbord of retaliatory options. (Had I been sought out for my technical guidance, I might have asked, what’s the hurry to retaliate? As absurdly unlikely it is that an ICBM could be launched from an untraceable location, once detonated, the forensic evidence left behind would tell us everything we need to know for a surgical strike.)

The ending sucks.

That’s it on the ending. Hard stop. Sucks.

Never forget what a thriller is all about.

Pacing, tension, and ever increasing stakes for the characters are the elements that separate a thriller from the other suspense genres. That’s the job of the writer. If it’s a film, add screenwriter and director to that list.

If you ever allow an agenda to take the front seat, your project is doomed.

Stranger Than Fiction:
Weird Stuff About Writers

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By PJ Parrish

My new year got off to a rocky start. Short story: suddenly huge water bill. Plumber says there’s a leak…somewhere. Enter Mike from Gulf Coast Leak Detection. Leak is under the lawn, not the house, he says. Bill: $500 vs $10,000 to repipe house. On New Year’s Eve, I splurged on a bottle of Veuve Clicquot.

So, in honor of good starts, here is some tasty brain lint about books and writers that I found for all us who are hoping for positive outcomes in 2026.

Did You Know That John Steinbeck's Dog Ate Half of his 1st Manuscript of “Of Mice and Men”? | by Herb Baker | Medium

Actual photo of famous book critic Toby,

Sick Puppy

Decades ago, when I was writing my first romance, The Dancer, my cat Hilary walked across the keyboard of my Commodore and wiped out a quarter of my work. Noooo, I didn’t make a copy. But…John Steinbeck’s dog, Toby, ate half of the first manuscript of Of Mice and Men. Steinbeck didn’t make copies either and it took him two months to write it all over again.Steinbeck wrote to his agent: “I was pretty mad, but the poor little fellow may have been acting critically.”

Hunka Hunka Burning Gov

Once, while doing some routine research on arcane FBI procedures, I got a screen message that said ERROR 451.  This is, I found out, is HTTP code for “Unavailable For Legal Reasons,” meaning the government doesn’t want you to see it. The code comes from Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 where books are infamously burned. It’s reassuring to know someone in Washington read novels.

Sting Wrote The Song 'Every Breath You Take' At The Same Desk Where Ian Fleming Wrote His James Bond Novels

My Golden Eye Will Be Watching You

Apropo of nothing in my life other than the fact I once got to interview Sting — The Police frontsman wrote the song “Every Breath You Take” at the same desk that Ian Fleming used to write his James Bond novels. Sting was renting the Fleming Villa in Goldeneye on the island of Jamaica while composing the famous track.

Which Might Explain Why the Coffee Tastes Like Bilge Water

Would you go to a coffee shop called Pequod’s? Whelp, that was what Gordon Bowker originally wanted to call his little coffee company because he was a Moby Dick fan and thought using the ship’s name was a nifty idea. His partner Terry Heckler thought naming a business after a doomed whaler was a bad marketing move. So now you can overpay for your Cinnamon Dolce Latte at Starbucks, named after the Pequod’s first mate.

Fast Times at Ridgemont High (1982) - Ray Walston as Mr. Hand - IMDb

The Allmanns, Jeff Spicoli and The Bard

Was listening to one of my fave boogie-down-the-road songs the other day — “Jessica.” Found out recently that the name — now among most popular for babies and dogs — made its first appearance in Shakespeare’s 1598 play The Merchant of Venice. Shakespeare is also credited with making up over 1,000 words and phrases including “bookworm,” “bibliophile,” “critic,” “vanish into thin air,” and “gloomy.”  He also gave us “gnarly” and “pukey.” Aloha, Mr. Hand.

Let Them Eat Madeleines

I don’t remember why, but many years ago I decided I needed to read Proust. Naively, I cracked open In Search of Lost Time. It became my Everest. I had to conquer it. It took me two years. If you’re into torture, give it a go. At 1.2 million words, it is one of the longest novels ever written. Second longest is Donna Tartt’s The Goldfinch, which only feels like 1.2 million words.

“A Feeling Of Sadness That Only Bus Stations Have.”

Jack Kerouac never learned to drive. He moved to New York City as a teenager on a scholarship to boarding school and then entered Columbia, so as any smart New Yorker would say, who needs wheels in the city? Through every subsequent adventure, across the country and back, down to Mexico, up from New Orleans, Kerouac always let his buddy Neal Cassady drive. Or he took Greyhound buses.

M6 motorway - Wikipedia

Paperback Rider

True story: When visiting DC years ago, I went to the Library of Congress on a lark just to see if my book The Dancer was there. Sure enough, it was! Then the other day, I read that In 2003, 2.5 million unsold books from the UK romance publisher Mills & Boon were used in the reconstruction of the M6 motorway. This is the company that bought the rights to my book The Dancer. My book never sold much — in US or UK — but it gives me some sick satisfaction to think that my little paperback might be helping some poor git find his way from Catthorpe, England to Gretna, Scotland.  Such is the stuff of immortality.

Happy belated new year, crime dogs.

What a Difference a Day Makes

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Mindset, clarity, control, and/or opportunities can all change in a single day. Think of how many plot twists could occur in a 24-hour period. Characters run full force into danger, narrowly escape, and end the evening in a hot tub with a cocktail. Or they don’t escape. Imagine how grueling every second of captivity must feel?

Entire novels that take place in a single day include:

  • Saturday by Ian McEwan follows a neurosurgeon through his Saturday, dealing with personal and national anxieties.
  • The Hours by Michael Cunningham interweaves three women’s lives across different eras, all connected by Virginia Woolf’s Mrs. Dalloway, with events occurring in one day. Albeit in different years.
  • The Flight Attendant by Chris Bohjalian is about a flight attendant who wakes with a dead man in a Dubai hotel. The MC must piece together the previous night before her next flight.
  • Rock Paper Scissors by Alice Feeney: A couple’s anniversary trip to a remote Scottish castle turns sinister as secrets unravel in a single, stormy weekend (more than one day but still a condensed timeframe).
  • Supremely Tiny Acts by Sonya Huber explores the small moments of a single day in a woman’s life.
  • The Mezzanine by Nicholson Baker focuses on a man’s lunch hour and his detailed observations of office life.
  • The Sun Is Also a Star by Nicola Yoon is a romance novel that follows two teens who meet and fall in love in a single day in New York City.

The above list demonstrates this technique isn’t limited to thrillers. A condensed timeframe could work with almost any genre.

Movie Examples:

  • Collateral shows how a cab driver’s night turns deadly as he’s forced to drive a hitman around LA for one wild night of murder and mayhem.
  • Ambulance focuses on two robbers who hijack an ambulance, and leads to a city-wide chase.
  • Unstoppable is about a runaway train that threatens a city, with a veteran engineer and young conductor racing to stop it in hours.
  • The Taking of Pelham 123 shows how a subway dispatcher must outwit hijackers holding passengers hostage in a lone NYC subway car.

All these stories use the compressed timeframe to heighten tension and force characters to make immediate decisions, which often leads to more conflict and higher stakes. Compressed timeframe novels are almost impossible to put down. The movies? Forget about it. They demand your full attention — keep the pause button handy for bathroom breaks. You won’t want to miss a second!

Crafting a novel set within a 24-hour period requires tight plotting, a strong central conflict, and a heightened sense of urgency.

Tips to Write Compressed Timeline Novels

Use a chronological structure that follows the progression of the day, from sunrise to sunset or from the inciting incident through the next 24-hours. If you begin each chapter with a heading to mark the hour, it’ll emphasize the ticking clock and add even more intensity.

Anchor the story around a major time-sensitive event, like a party, heist, or sudden disaster. The main character’s journey through this event provides a natural narrative arc. A strong inciting incident is a must. Whatever event kicks off the quest should happen early and be urgent enough to force the MC to act. For example, in Ian McEwan’s Saturday, the MC witnesses an accident that disrupts his peaceful day.

Use backstory strategically through dialogue, internal thoughts, or quick flashbacks. All must relate to the main storyline and reveal important tidbits and/or character traits. Since time is limited, be intentional with your dialogue. Conversations between characters can reveal relevant backstory and propel the plot forward.

Avoid unnecessary subplots. With such a tight window of time, every scene, conversation, and action should serve the storyline. You could weave in a subplot between dueling protagonists, like unreciprocated romantic feelings or a divorced couple forced to work together. Both would cause even more conflict and obstacles.

Word of caution: Don’t let the subplot destroy the pacing of the novel or detract from the main storyline. Let’s use my two quick suggestions as examples. The awkward moments of unreciprocated love could be used as comedy relief to give the reader a break from the tension. A divorced couple could also add hilarity if one spouse nitpicks the other at the worst possible time.

A countdown structure, where the plot builds toward the climax, heightens stakes, builds tension and conflict. Keep raising those stakes — challenge your characters! They cannot escape their fate by waiting for tomorrow, thus the pressure escalates throughout the day.

Use the setting to your advantage. Saturate the narrative with sensory details to create a strong sense of place, mood, and atmosphere. Take advantage of the time of day, traffic, weather, and location to reflect the characters’ changing moods and emotions.

Limit your cast. With less time to develop characters, a smaller cast allows for more intimate and detailed dynamics.

There isn’t much time for massive external changes, so trigger character flaws early and focus on internal changes to create a strong character arc. Show how the day’s events force them to change strategy, perspective, or arrive at a new understanding.

Also, the compressed timeline allows the perfect place to demonstrate the three dimensions of character through action and reaction under pressure. Give readers direct access to their inner lives with a deep POV. An omniscient narrator won’t be as effective.

Hope you all had a joyous holiday season, TKZers!

Have you written a story with a limited timeframe? What’s your favorite “crunch time” movie or novel? Why did the tight timeline work for you?

Give Thanks You’re a Writer

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Jackie Gleason, Paul Newman in The Hustler (1961)

When I teach at a writers conference I’ll often show a clip from one of my favorite movies, The Hustler (1961), starring Paul Newman, George C. Scott, Piper Laurie, and Jackie Gleason. It’s the story of “Fast Eddie” Felson (Newman), a pool hustler who longs to beat the best player in the world, Minnesota Fats (Gleason).

Stuff happens (this is what’s called a short synopsis). Bert Gordon (Scott), who manages Fats, labels Eddie “a loser.” This gets under Eddie’s skin. One day he asks his girl, Sarah, if she thinks he’s a loser. She is taken aback. He says he lost control the night he went hustling and got mad at the arrogant kid he was playing. “I just had to show those creeps and those punks what the game it like when it’s great, when it’s really great.” He explains that anything, even bricklaying, can be great if “a guy knows how to pull it off.” He tells Sarah what he feels “when I’m really going.”

It’s like a jockey must feel. He’s sittin’ on his horse, he’s got all that speed and that power underneath him, he’s comin’ into the stretch, the pressure’s on ’im, and he knows! He just feels when to let it go and how much. ’Cause he’s got everything workin’ for him, timing, touch…it’s a great feeling, boy, it’s a real great feeling when you’re right and you know you’re right. It’s like all of a sudden I got oil in my arm. The pool cue’s part of me. You know, it’s a pool cue, it’s got nerves in it. It’s a piece of wood, it’s got nerves in it. You feel the roll of those balls, you don’t have to look, you just know. You make shots nobody’s ever made before. I can play that game the way nobody’s ever played it before.

Sarah looks at him and says, “You’re not a loser, Eddie, you’re a winner. Some men never get to feel that way about anything.”

Give thanks you’re a writer. We experience life in all its colors—joy, doubts, hopes, frustrations, wins, losses, knockdowns and comebacks. We work at our craft and get better, and start to make “shots” we’ve never made before. A writer of any genre can make a book great—from pulp to literary, romance to thriller, chicklit to hardboiled. And when you pull it off, you feel like pool felt to Fast Eddie. That’s winning, because some people never feel that way about anything.

Some years ago I wrote a takeoff on Clement Clarke Moore’s famous poem, “The Night Before Christmas.” I offer it to you once more as we sign off for our annual two-week break. Heartfelt thanks to all of you for another great year here at TKZ!

’Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the room

Was a feeling of sadness, an aura of gloom.

The entire critique group was ready to freak,

For all had rejections within the past week.

An agent told Stacey her writing was boring,

Another said Allison’s book left him snoring.

From Simon & Schuster Melissa got NO.

And betas agreed Arthur’s pacing was slow.

“Try plumbing,” a black-hearted agent told Todd,

And Richard’s own mother said he was a fraud.

So all ’round that room in a condo suburban

Sat writers––some crying, some knocking back bourbon.

When out in the hall there arose such a clatter,

That Heather jumped up to see what was the matter.

She threw the door open and stuck out her head

And saw there a fat man with white beard, who said,

“Is this the critique group that I’ve heard bemoaning?

That keeps up incessant and ill-tempered groaning?

If so, let me in, and do not look so haughty.

You don’t want your name on the list that’s marked Naughty!”

He was dressed all in red and he carried a sack.

As he pushed through the door he went on the attack:

“What the heck’s going on here? Why are you dejected?

Because you got criticized, hosed and rejected?

Well join the club! And take heart, I implore you,

And learn from the writers who suffered before you.

Like London and Chandler and Faulkner and Hammett,

Saroyan and King––they were all told to cram it.

And Grisham and Roberts, Baldacci and Steel:

They all got rejected, they all missed a deal.

But did they give up? Did they stew in their juices?

Or quit on their projects with flimsy excuses?”

“But Santa,” said Todd, with his voice upward ranging,

“You don’t understand how the industry’s changing!

There’s not enough slots! Lists are all in remission!

There’s too many writers, too much competition!

And if we self-publish that’s no guarantee

That readers will find us, or money we’ll see.

The system’s against us, it’s set up for losing!

Is it any surprise that we’re sobbing and boozing?”

“Oh no,” Santa said. “Your reaction is fitting.

So toss out your laptops and take up some knitting!

Don’t stick to the work like a Twain or a Dickens.

Move out to the country and start raising chickens!

But if you’re true writers, you’ll stop all this griping.

You’ll tamp down the doubting and ramp up the typing.

You’ll write out of love, out of dreams and desires,

From passions and joys, emotional fires!

You’ll dive into worlds, you’ll hang out with heroes.

You’ll live your lives deeply, you won’t end up zeroes!

And though you may whimper when frustration grinds you

There will come a day when an email finds you.

And it will say, ‘Hi there, I just love suspense,

And I found you on Kindle for ninety-nine cents.

I just had to tell you, the tension kept rising

And didn’t let up till the ending surprising!

You have added a fan, and just so you know,

If you keep writing books I’ll keep shelling out dough!’

So all of you cease with the angst and the sorrow,

And when you awaken to Christmas tomorrow,

Give thanks you’re a writer, for larger you live!

Now I’ve got to go, I’ve got presents to give.”

And laying a finger aside of his nose

And giving a nod, through the air vent he rose!

Outside in the courtyard he jumped on a sleigh

With eight reindeer waiting to take him away.

At the window they watched him, the writers, all seven,

As Santa and sleigh made a beeline toward Heaven.

But they heard him exclaim, ’ere he drove out of sight,

“Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good write!”

See you in 2026!

A Christmas Story

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Today’s deadline slipped up on me, because of the holidays. So instead of a typical blog post, here’s a newspaper column I wrote some years ago. It borders on the absurd, but Faithful Followers always enjoy my Outdoor Detective. Hope you enjoy this White Elephant present, originally titled:

The Presence of Presents

I was filing my nails at my desk when the door burst open.

“You’re gonna have to fix that,” I told Wrong Willie.

“Replacement doors are cheap. Why are you filing nails?”

I glanced down at the pile of freshly sharpened ten-penny nails. “They were dull, and I need to build a doghouse.”

“You don’t have a dog.”

“It’s for me. I’ve been so busy lately I haven’t done my Christmas shopping. The Bride is a little irritated.”

He frowned. “With Christmas?”

“With me.”

“Well, you’re gonna get busy now, because I need the Outdoor Detective.”

“At your service.”

“I know.”

Mellow saxophone music filled the room. We still don’t know where it comes from.

Willie dug a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. When he found it, he threw down the shovel and put his tattered pants back on. “I need Christmas gifts for the Hunting Club, and I don’t have any idea of what to buy.”

“Stuff.” I smiled, because it was an excellent answer.

Willie agreed. “Good one, the problem –––.”

I took over, because that’s what I do. “–––is that as experienced and innovative outdoorsmen, we buy what we want when we need it, thus leaving few, if any, ideas for gifts.”

“You read my mind.”

“No, I’m reading your list.” I held it up. “That’s what you wrote at the top.”

We shared our bond with a handshake. “Next time let’s hug.”

“No. So, Outdoor Detective, do you have any ideas?”

“A few. We should go on vacation, and I think it’s good if you threw a party Friday night., but try this in answer to your quewstion.” I whipped a tarp off a four-foot high stack beside my desk.

The tarp lay there and glared, not understanding why it had been whipped.

Wrong Willie’s eyes widened. “What’s that?”

“Christmas catalogues.”

He whistled. It was Dixie. “You must have been collecting them for months.”

“These came in the mail yesterday. It’s that time of the season.”

“They must be full of ideas.”

“Yep, but we need to get busy, pronto!”

Pronto stepped forward and picked up a double handful. He’s been a help these past few weeks on other cases. The last was a case of beer.

“I’ll get right on it. Thanks for hiring me, boss.”

He left to peruse the catalogues.

I shouted through the broken door. “Come back!”

Willie returned and twiddled his thumbs. “Now what?”

“We need to talk about what you should to buy for the guys.”

He sat back down. “I forgot about them.”

“I know you did.”

“How?”

“Because I did, too, and I don’t have a clue.”

“Pure poetry.” Willie brightened before handing me a Clue board game.

I put on my sunglasses at his glow. “Speak.”

“Arf. How about buying them camo?”

“We’ve always used it when we hunt.”

“Good.”

“A camo wallet for Doc.” I made a note. It was an A flat.

“Like the one you lost the last time we were deer hunting?”

“Yes. I dropped it in the grass and we never found it.”

Willie held up a finger. It wasn’t his. “Perfect.”

“No, it wasn’t, and you should give that back to whoever it belongs to. But that wallet was worn on the edges and the stitching was coming undone.”

“Right. Now, what about Jerry Wayne.”

“He’s a large guy, likes long walks in the evenings–––.”

“What I meant was, what do you want to get him for Christmas?”

I considered that question. “A present.”

“Yes.”

We were pleased with our progress. I had another thought. “And Woodrow?”

“Large also. Bearded.”

“A present for him, too.”

Willie agreed. “Of course.”

I held out a photograph. “Is this them?”

Wrong Willie took the likeness and examined it closely. He finally glanced up from the magnifying glass and put it back into his pocket. “It looks like them, but this could be digital manipulation.”

“Get your digits off of it and give it back.”

He stopped manipulating the photo and returned it.

I nailed the picture back to the wall. “Well, that about does it.”

We smiled in satisfaction at my office. Willie stood. “Well, thanks for your help.”

“It was nothing.”

“Yes, it was.”

He left and I opened a catalog, suddenly recalling that I still hadn’t completed my own Christmas shopping. I made a list.

  1. Go shopping.
  2. Buy presents.
  3. Wrap presents.

Satisfied with the day’s achievements I lit a cigarette, then it stubbed it out in the ashtray because I don’t smoke. I sat back and relaxed, enjoying the soft saxophone music that always fills the air once I put on my Outdoor Detective fedora.

It’s good to be good.

Merry Christmas, y’all!

 

 

 

Reader Friday-Christmas Movie Night

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What is your all-time holiday movie favorite?

Here’s two of mine:

It’s A Wonderful Life

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

And a third one…I’m not sure this is a Christmas movie, but I watched it a few years back while caring for grandchildren for a few days around holiday time.

What a snorter! And it’s a good thing it was so funny, because the youngest grand-dude insisted on watching it with me at least twice a day!   🙂

Zootopia

 

I don’t remember ever laughing so hard at a cartoon, even as a child. (I think this sloth scene was the best…)

 

Over to you, Killzoners! Your favorite holiday movie…

This is my last TKZ post for 2025. See you in 2026…and I hope you have a safe, peaceful, and joyful holiday season, my friends!