Tag Archives: Donald Maass

Story 360 Conference Made My Head Spin…in a Good Way!

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Lorin Oberweger, leader of Story 360 Writing Conference, and happy sttendee Debbie Burke

by Debbie Burke

The views from the top floor of the Centre Club in downtown Tampa, Florida were 360 degrees, vast and expansive. So was the content at the aptly named Story 360 Writing Conference I attended a couple of weekends ago. I came away almost dizzy from the talks by Christopher Vogler, Donald Maass, Janice Hardy, and other authors.

Don Maass is a respected agent, educator, and author of Writing the Breakout Novel, The Emotional Craft of Fiction, Writing 21st Century Fiction, plus numerous novels. His all-day master class on Friday, “Writing with Soul,” was packed with prompts and questions for writers to ask themselves. His style is not to present fiction writing techniques but rather to lead you up a ladder to the high diving board and push you off.

He reframed conflict, a typical requirement for stories, into provocation. Every line of dialogue is a provocation that requires a response. He said to a woman in the audience, “You look nice today,” to which she responded, “You want to get closer, take a better look?” That comeback brought down the house because it perfectly illustrated Don’s point.

He asked, “What event in your story provokes a response from your protagonist?” then offered possibilities: a compliment, an insult, a temptation, a dare, an embarrassment, a setback, a wound, a gift, etc.

Next, he asked, “What is your protagonist’s response to that provocation?” Beyond the primary responses of fight, flight, or freeze, he added diffuse, appease, dissent, ignore, judge, respond in kind, reach out in sympathy, walk away in disgust, or tell the world.

For the last choice, he described a guy in a NY Irish bar who is provoked and loudly announces to everyone there, “Did you hear what he said to me? Did you hear what that &%*$ said to me?”

The character’s response is what we as readers would like to do, not what we would actually do.

Don’s talk yielded 34 pages of hastily scribbled notes plus kept my mind spinning like a hamster in a wheel.

Thanks for a sleepless night, Don!

While talking with other attendees, I learned many of them are frequent flyers who’d taken Don’s classes previously and keep coming back. That says it all.

~~~

Side note: Several people had been to a conference years ago that featured the trifecta of Don, Chris Vogler, and TKZ’s own Jim Bell. I’d love to see those guys get the band back together again. Anyone else at TKZ in favor of a reunion concert?

~~~

Linda Hurtado Bond, Debbie Burke

On Saturday, I met Linda Hurtado Bond, an Emmy-winning 30-year veteran TV reporter in Tampa who’s also written six thrillers. Her latest book is All the Captive Girls set during Gasparilla, an annual Mardi Gras-style festival that celebrates pirates, drinking, pirate ships, drinking, pirate parades, drinking, pirate costumes…you get the idea.

She talked about how she had parlayed Gasparilla events into video promotions on her social media. Videos included her visit behind the scenes at the barn where parade floats are stored; a local bar/restaurant off the main drag that partnered with her to give visibility to both the business and her book; Linda’s Jeep decorated with lights driving in the parade while she, in a pirate costume, handed out beads to the crowd.

She acknowledges most introverted writers aren’t as extraverted as she is, nor do they have her recognizability from TV. Even so she advises authors to “Just be there” at community events because you never know what opportunities you might discover.

She recommends visiting bookstores, attending arts-related fairs, connecting with book clubs and book podcasters. To build your email list, do joint promotions with another author or a local business. Have something to offer—your expertise and willingness to answer questions; ARCs (advance reader copies); a book box with swag. As a breast cancer survivor, Linda participated in a fundraiser with her books as prizes.

Ask what you can do for the reader or audience. In other words, promotion is not about you, it’s about them and what they want, need, or enjoy.

I WANT to find out what high-octane vitamins Linda takes.

~~~

Sheree Greer and Debbie Burke

Sheree L. Greer is a Tampa-based author of fiction and creative nonfiction, as well as a business consultant, writing instructor, developmental editor, and new mom. She proudly showed phone photos of her bright-eyed, two-month-old little girl. She also admitted to new-baby exhaustion. However, not a trace of fatigue showed in Sheree’s vibrant presentation.

Sheree displayed a slide of two intersecting circles. One circle was want, the other was need. The oval where they overlapped was desire. Desire is the combination of wanting and needing something. She suggested a prompt to write about something you wanted or needed but didn’t get.

At age 35, Sheree’s need to stay sober intersected with her want to learn more about her past. That led to a desire to connect with her father. During their meeting he talked about his struggle with alcoholism. When she mentioned her age, he responded, “I was thirty-five when you were born.” At that moment, the common denominators of age and alcoholism linked them. She got to know herself through getting to know her father.

More prompts included creating a desire list for your character. Discover if the character shares her desires or hides them.

Three additional questions:

  1. At the start of your story, who knows about her desire?
  2. By the middle of your story, who knows about her desire?
  3. By the end, who knows about her desire?

Considering the character’s desire in that light was a fresh concept to me. It went beyond the usual questions about story stakes like what happens if a character fails, or what happens if they succeed?

Sheree also talked about interiority or the inner thoughts of a character. If a character is alone and thinking about themselves for too long, readers lose interest. Instead, she suggests focusing on the tension between the character’s inner wants/needs in contrast with the external happenings of the scene.

I DESIRE more insights like Sheree’s to lift my writing to the next level.

~~~

 

Janice Hardy, Sheree L. Greer, Debbie Burke, Eileen McIntyre

Janice Hardy runs Fiction University, an educational site she founded in 2009 that’s crammed with practical, actionable advice on writing. Her talk also focused on character’s wants and needs but from a different perspective. She says, “When want and need pull in opposite directions, the story gets interesting.”

She defines want as what the character thinks will make her happy; need is what will really make her happy. “Impossible desire” is the empty hole in a character’s soul.

When faced with a saggy middle, Janice suggests this is the place in the story to go deeper rather than wider. By wider, she means adding more activity. Deeper is where the author should force the character to make hard choices. Every choice must cause consequences in the plot.

The middle can feature false victories, where the character believes they’re making progress toward a goal but aren’t. Another possibility for the middle is false failure, where they believe they’ve failed but later discover the failure actually leads to success.

Janice recalled a conference when she experienced severe imposter syndrome. She was the unknown newbie on a panel with Lee Child and Maya Angelou. Janice understandably felt awkward and didn’t know what to say. Then those two luminaries admitted they also struggled with self-doubt at the start of each book. At that point, Janice realized self-doubt is normal for authors no matter how accomplished.

Janice is the author of a series of writing craft books. She’s also a meticulous, organized plotter, the polar opposite of my pantsing chaos.

I NEED to clean up my act, so I bought Janice’s book Planning Your Novel-Ideas and Structure.

~~~

Legends Christopher Vogler and Donald Maass

In the mid-1980s, Chris Vogler wrote a seven-page memo that famously blew through Hollywood like a Florida hurricane. The memo grew into the classic textbook for screenwriting and storytelling, The Writer’s Journey – Mythic Structure for Writers. The book has remained a perennial bestseller, including a 25th anniversary edition in 2020, and is still going strong.

Meeting Chris in person was the numero uno reason I attended the conference. My upcoming craft-of-writing book, The Villain’s Journey – How to Create Villains Readers Love to Hate, is the flip side to the Hero’s Journey which Chris explores in depth in The Writer’s Journey.

True confession time: Although Chris and I had previously exchanged friendly emails, I was intimidated about meeting him in person. During the lunch break, I even had to call a friend for support. She told me to get my sorry cowardly ass into the room and introduce myself.

Well…I did.

Chris was warm, friendly, down to earth, and not at all intimidating. We chatted about my book, and he could not have been more gracious, encouraging, and supportive.

In his Sunday presentation, Chris explained archetypes are stereotypes but deeper. He talked about impressions on cave walls made by prehistoric people who had a deep need to leave their mark, to say I had a life, I was here.

He showed a slide with two sets of ancient footprints that had been preserved under ash for thousands of years. One set was large and one small, probably a mother and child running through mud while fleeing a volcanic eruption. They had left their mark for a roomful of writers who, centuries later, were still moved by their plight.

That illustrated the universality and timeless power of stories.

Chris introduced us to a collection of lesser-known Greek gods, along with their family lineage. Each was the personification of a particular quality or theme.

One example was Arete. Her mother was the goddess of justice and her father the god of safety and security. Those qualities blended in Arete who embodied grace, virtue, excellence, and perfection. Arete’s evil twin sister was Cacia (Kakia) who embodied vice and immorality.

Chris then displayed a slide of a related myth. In the historic line drawing, young Hercules is shown at a crossroads where he encounters two beautiful women. “Cacia” points at the easy road going downhill toward quick material riches. “Arete” points at the other road which goes uphill through difficulties but ultimately leads to immortality by leaving a lasting mark on the world.

The character at a crossroads who must make a choice remains a relatable theme that today’s characters still face.

The goddess Themis (notice the similarity to “theme”) established the laws of the universe. Her daughter Dike laid out the laws of the world and human life—the moral code. Dike’s evil twin sister was Adikia, goddess of injustice and wrongdoing.

Today’s characters still face dilemmas of right and wrong.

Agon is the god of struggle. His name is also the root of the words “agony,” “protagonist,” and “antagonist.” Still relevant and relatable in today’s stories.

Chris presented more gods and goddesses, too many to include in this already-long post. At the end of his talk, I asked him if he was going to write a book based on his presentation. He smiled and said, “I already have.” The manuscript is near completion.

When it’s published, I NEED and WANT to read it.

~~~

One last shoutout to Lorin Oberweger and her team who brought together a 360-degree world of vision, talent, and knowledge. A big thank you for a fabulous, memorable conference! My head is still spinning.

~~~

TKZers, have you been to a conference that made a lasting impact on your writing? Please share that experience.

~~~

 

Please check out my upcoming book The Villain’s Journey-How to Create Villains Readers Love to Hate. Preorder now at this link and the ebook will be delivered to your device on July 13, 2025.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Your Book Means Something

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

In her excellent recent post Kris wrote:

I know you’re tempted to dismiss theme as mere enhancement. Le cerise sur la gateau, as the French say. But it’s essential. Try this experiment: Write the back copy for your work in progress — three paragraphs at most. Ha! Can’t do it? Well, you might not have a grip on what your story is about at its heart. Now often your theme doesn’t show itself until you’re well into your plot. Well, that’s okay. But when it begins to whisper, listen hard. Good fiction, Stephen King says, “always begins with story and progresses to theme.”

No matter what you do, your book will have a theme (or meaning) at the end.

Because your characters carry a theme. Always.

Do the good guys win? Justice will triumph.

Do the bad guys win? Justice is a myth. (This is the theme of Woody Allen’s Crimes and Misdemeanors.)

So: you can set out to say something, or can wait to see what you’re saying. But say something you will.

As Viktor Frankl puts it in his classic book on the subject, “Man’s search for meaning is the ultimate motivation in his life.” It is a subconscious reason readers pick up books. In the fictional search, they also are exploring their own inner territory.

Vision

Develop a vision for yourself as a writer. Make it something that excites you. Turn that into a mission statement—one paragraph that sums up your hopes and dreams as a writer. Read this regularly. Revise it from time to time to reflect your growth.

Root that inspiration in the world—your observations of it, and what it does to you. “I honestly think in order to be a writer,” says Anne Lamott, “you have to learn to be reverent. If not, why are you writing? Why are you here? Let’s think of reverence as awe, as presence in and openness to the world.”

If you stay true to your own awe, your books cannot help but be charged with meaning. That’s not just a great way to write. It’s a great way to live.

What Theme Is

Theme is a statement about life. It can be implicit or explicit, subtle or overt. But it must come through fully realized characters engaged in a believable plot. Otherwise the book will come across as a thinly veiled essay, sermon, or jeremiad.

Now, there is nothing wrong with “message fiction.” In message fiction an author says to the reader: I have strong, heartfelt beliefs about this issue — and I think I know what the truth is. I’m going to reveal that truth in this novel, through the lives of these characters, and I hope to convince you to believe as I do. It’s not a matter of shades of grey. There is a right and a wrong here, and everything depends on my convincing you to cling to the right.

But the key word here is not message; it’s fiction. If your book doesn’t work as a story, the message will fall flat.

Uncle Tom’s Cabin is message fiction. So is To Kill a Mockingbird. The Narnia books of C.S. Lewis are message fiction, but they work as engaging stories with characters we care about.

Donald Maass says:

A breakout novelist believes that what she has to say is not just worth saying, but it is something that must be said… Strong novelists have strong opinions. More to the point, they are not at all afraid to express them.

But the key word here is not message; it’s fiction. If your book doesn’t work as a story, the message will fall flat.

Uncle Tom’s Cabin is message fiction. So is To Kill a Mockingbird. The Narnia books of C.S. Lewis are message fiction, but they work first as engaging stories with characters we care about.

Try This:

  • Write down the five things you care most about in the world.
  • Now the five people you most admire.
  • For each of the above, write 250 words about how you feel about each one, as if you had to convince a skeptic of the truth of your convictions.
  • Now pick one of the paragraphs and put that fire and emotion inside your main character. How might your MC show that on the page?
  • Go to the end of your WIP (either as written or as it might be written) and ask your character to explain to you what life lesson he or she has learned through the struggle of the plot. (In mythic structure, this is called “the elixir” which the hero carries back to benefit the community.) There’s your theme.
  • Or look to your character’s “mirror moment” to find what your story really means.

Over to you now. Do you think about theme before you begin to write? Or do you let it emerge as you go? Or do you not think about it at all?

Is there a theme you see recurring in your writing?

This post is brought to you by the audio version of The Mental Game of Writing. I was invited to try Kindle Direct Publishing’s beta of “virtual voice” narration. Since I have narrated a few of my writing books, this is an experiment in saving massive amounts of time. What took me 10-15 hours before (narrating, editing, etc.) now takes 10-15 minutes to set up and go live. You can listen to a sample of the result here.

Write Diamonds

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

We are, of course, flooded with books these days. The Forbidden City still puts out product. The indie output is a veritable tsunami that swells ever larger each day. While most of it is bad (per Sturgeon’s Law), there is also a sizable chunk that is competent, even good.

Which is not enough to make it in this game. You’ve got to strive for unforgettable. You’ve got to write diamonds that sparkle through the rock piles and gravel pits of content.

Emotional intensity is one ingredient that will help get you there.

There’s an axiom attributed to Robert Frost: No tears in the writer, no tears in the reader. That is another way of saying you must feel deeply as you write your story, and transfer that feeling to the readers.

Let me offer some tips.

1. Feel it

In my theater days I learned a technique handed down from legendary acting teacher Konstantin Stanislavsky. It’s called “emotion memory.” You think back to a time when you felt the emotion you want to convey in a scene. Get in a quiet place and recreate the memory with all its sensory data. That means what you saw, smelled, touched, heard and tasted.

As you recall these sensations you will discover that the emotion wells up afresh within you. The sense memories are causing you to experience the emotion as if it were happening in the present.

With a little practice you’ll be able to call up emotions as you need them when you’re about to write a scene.

2. Improvise

Invite your characters to play around. Take a seat in the movie theater of your mind and watch what happens.

Close your eyes and conjure up a character. Set the scene, whatever pops into your head.

Follow the character. How does she move? What is she wearing? How does she react to the setting?

Now give her a reason for being in the scene. Where is she going? Why? Have her turn to the “audience” and say exactly what she’s after. Make that hugely important to her.

[Note: this is not an actual scene for your novel (unless you choose to use it). This is a scene to get to know your character more deeply. Let it surprise you.]

With your character on the way toward a goal, introduce another character into your scene, someone who will be the opposition.

Watch the scene unfold. Don’t try to control it. Let emotions run rampant. Have the characters struggle and fight. Where’s the passion?

The late Stephen J. Cannell, author of the Shane Scully series, said, “I’m a visceral writer. I do improvs through the books. I become the characters. I’ll say something as Shane, then I’ll say something as [his wife] Alexa. And it’ll tick me off. And I’ll react to that. I have to know what my characters want and I have to feel things. That’s part of the fun of it for me.”

Stay attuned also to images that will begin to arise in your imagination at odd times. E. L. Doctorow said he was feeing a “heightened sense of emotion” when visiting the Adirondacks after many years. He saw a sign that read Loon Lake. He liked the sound of the words together, and then a flood of images washed over him—a private train at night going through the Adirondacks; gangsters onboard; a beautiful girl holding a white dress in front of a mirror. He had no idea what the images meant, but started writing about them anyway.

Improvisational images will lead to story material pulsating with emotion.

3. Plan

Let your left brain pitch in and help. Ask some key questions before you write a scene:

– Who is the viewpoint character in this scene?

– What does he want?

– Why can’t he have it? Who or what is opposing him?

– What obstacles are placed in his way?

– What strategy will he use to get what he wants?

– What surprises can happen that will lead to emotional turmoil and the necessity for new plans?

4. Write

Write your scenes as fast as you comfortably can. This is not the time for editorial decisions. Get the words down and overwrite the emotional moments. Let yourself go! Get inside that character. Now, come back to this scene the next day and edit things down to where they feel right. You might only retain a line or two, but because you found them in the overwriting they’ll be choice.

5. Finish, Cut, and Polish

Write on. Keep the momentum. Finish the dang novel!

If you’ve written with emotion your draft will be a raw gem of great value. Now finish the job like an expert diamond cutter. This is the editing process, which I cover in some detail here. Another book I recommend is Donald Maass’s The Emotional Craft of Fiction.

My final step is always a polish—I look one more time at scene openings and endings, and long dialogue exchanges (where a trim here and there makes a big difference).

Diamonds are formed by heat. So is great fiction. Feel your characters and plots intensely to produce a precious stone. Then cut and polish. That’s how your fiction will stand out from the pile of the merely competent.

What are some of the ways you bring emotion to your pages?

What if You Were the Main Character

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What if…?

What if you decided you wanted to write a novel that would join the “50 most influential books ever written?” You wanted your book to be studied in literature classes 100 years from now. You had a concept and premise that would address a problem and make this world a better place. And you felt you had it within you to pull off such a feat.

And what if you wanted that novel to address social injustice or something just as controversial. I included the Literature and Society sections from the “50 most” list for examples of such books.

Literature

From creating characters and stories that have become foundational elements in cultures around the world to upsetting undesirable standards and inspiring the imagination of many, these works of literature have touched the world in significant ways. These are the most influential books in literature.

  1. The Canterbury Talesby Geoffrey Chaucer.
  2. Divine Comedyby Dante Alighieri.
  3. The Complete Works of William Shakespeare.
  4. Moby Dickby Herman Melville.
  5. 1984by George Orwell.
  6. Brave New Worldby Aldous Huxley.
  7. The Iliad and The Odysseyby Homer.
  8. Don Quixoteby Miguel de Cervantes.
  9. In Search of Lost Timeby Marcel Proust.
  10. Madame Bovaryby Gustave Flaubert.
  11. Arabian Nightstranslated by Andrew Lang.
  12. One Hundred Years of Solitudeby Gabriel García Márquez.
  13. War and Peaceby Leo Tolstoy.
  14. The Tale of Genjiby Murasaki Shikibu.
  15. Uncle Tom’s Cabinby Harriett Beecher Stowe.
  16. Crime and Punishmentby Fyodor Dostoyevsky.
  17. Things Fall Apartby Chinua Achebe.
  18. Faustby Johann Wolfgang von Goethe.
  19. Belovedby Toni Morrison.
  20. The Lord of the Ringsby J.R.R. Tolkien.

Society

These are the most influential books in terms of impacting society, texts that helped changed people’s views on racism, feminism, consumption, and language.

  1. The Diary of a Young Girlby Anne Frank
  2. The Vindication of the Rights of Womenby Mary Wollstonecraft
  3. The Second Sexby Simone de Beauvoir
  4. A Room of One’s Ownby Virginia Woolf
  5. Waldenby Henry David Thoreau.
  6. A Dictionary of the English Languageby Samuel Johnson
  7. Critique of Pure Reasonby Immanuel Kant.
  8. The Jungleby Upton Sinclair.
  1. What other titles would you add to this list?

And what if there would be consequences for writing such a controversial novel? Stakes (JSB, Plot and Structure): such as harm – physical, professional, psychological – even death. Do you still want to write that book? Have you thought carefully about the possible consequences?

So, what if you decided to protect yourself by inserting a buffer or a decoy – a main character who was on a quest to write such an influential novel, thus adding another layer to the story, and taking some of the heat off yourself?

What if, even though that main character was really you, you knew you must put your MC through the ringer.

  1. How far would you take your MC (you), or how close to physical death would you put yourself? Could you handle torturing and nearly killing yourself?

Commando squads showing up during the night to haul you off, never to be seen again? Or being ruined professionally where you could never find a publisher? Or being driven mad with the whole quest where you would finish the book as a deranged writer?

And, before you write your answer, we are talking “social disasters” outside your own country, not your own country’s political battles. No politics, please!

Okay, so how close to death would you take your MC (yourself)?

  1. Upping the ante

Now, finally, let’s up the ante. Or as Donald Maass says (in his books and classes), pick the worst possible scenario, now make it three times as bad. Let’s take that writer, the MC, you, out of the equation. You no longer have the MC to hide behind. You are writing that great influential, transformational novel yourself, without a decoy or a safety net; you face the stakes of death, in reality, not in the story. Do you still want to write it?

So, now, how badly do you want to write that story? What stakes would you be willing to face? What sacrifices would you be willing to make? Do you have it within you to make the ultimate sacrifice?

  1. Gaming the game

And knowing that some of you are already figuring out a way to publish without pain, what tricks have you devised to deceive? I’ll steal the easy ones: publish posthumously, hide behind a pen name, ghost write for someone else who is willing to take the heat. What others?

  1. Do you still want to be the Main Character?

 

Yes, You Can Learn To Write Better Fiction

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

I love having Brother John Gilstrap back on TKZ. He doesn’t pull punches. He’s the Conor McGregor of writing bloggers. Witness his post last week, Tell the Damn Story. It’s a straight right to the chops.

John and I have gone around on this topic in the past, and I’m inspired by John’s post to do it again today. But rather than get all Floyd Mayweather about it, I’d like to start by looking at where we agree.

There is a lot of good packed into the simple admonition to tell the damn story. To me the gist of this advice is: You are a storyteller, and that is your first and greatest function. So don’t get tied up in “rules” and analysis when you are writing. I even wrote a post on that subject called Avoiding Writing Paralysis Due to Over-Analysis.

John and I agree that when you’re sitting at your typer, with the story in your heart and head yearning to get out, let it out! Get it on the page!

Where John and I part ways is on what to do to make the story better, both before and after the typing.

John says he holds this truth “dear”— “that no one can teach a person to write.” I could pounce on that, but I believe the disagreement may come down to what John means by “to write.” A few lines later John says:

I do believe that instruction and workshopping can hone and develop talent, but it cannot create talent where there is none. Some people are not wired for storytelling.

Ah! Then “to write” for John is tied up in that thing called “talent.” There’s where we could spend more time, talking about what talent really is and how it might be coaxed … or coached.

Further, what John calls “honing and developing” I would simply call “teaching.” So if we parse our terms precisely, I believe John and I would agree that in some measure you can teach a writer things that will make their fiction better.

I also agree that there are some people who are not, as John puts it, “wired” for storytelling. But you know what? In my twenty years of teaching and reading countless manuscripts, I have run across very few who fit this description. The overwhelming majority of writers I’ve taught do have story sense, because how can you avoid it? We grow up reading and watching story after story. We press our reality through the gauze of beginning, middle and end. And most people who come to a workshop do know how to string coherent sentences together. Part of my job as a teacher is to help them stack those sentences in the most effective way.

Which is what the craft is all about.

John further stated in a comment:

A gifted musician is first and foremost gifted. Studying with a master maestro will help him to greatness. For most of us, though, our piano lessons will only help us become really good amateurs. Ditto athletic prowess. Beyond that innate talent, though, there needs to be the drive and desire to work one’s butt off. That work for us writer’s includes not classroom time, but lots and lots of alone time with our imaginary friends.

I liked this up to and excluding the last sentence. We do agree on this basic point: someone with talent can be made better at what they do through lessons. The boy George Gershwin had monster talent, but he needed lesson after lesson for that talent to shine through.

Still, you only get a Gershwin once in a lifetime. But there are countless superb piano players who make good money in bars and restaurants and hotels. They please a lot of people with their music.

It’s the same with writers. There are not many Hemingways or Chandlers, but there are (now) thousands of fiction writers making bank writing entertaining, well-structured, satisfying novels and stories.

Many of them have been my students.

John and I also agree that “working one’s butt off” is a non-negotiable for anyone to make it as a writer. But I am puzzled by his disdain for the classroom. What’s wrong with listening to an experienced writer sharing techniques that make fiction better, stronger, more compelling, and deeper? Why isn’t that something an ambitious writer ought to be anxious to seek out?

At the very least it might save that writer years of frustration and rejection.

Working with a good editor is another way fiction writing is taught. Now, really good fiction editors are rare and always have been. I had the good fortune to work with one of them, Dave Lambert at Zondervan. He was the reason I chose Zondervan over three other publishers back in the day. Dave was famous for his “Dave letters” — multi-page, single-spaced documents of pure insight and instruction. I was a pretty good writer before Dave. He kicked me up several notches. Without his instruction, and my working hard to incorporate that into my pages, I don’t believe I’d be where I am today.

So to me the big disagreement with John comes down to his statement: “The breakthroughs—the true light bulb moments—can only come via self-discovery while pasting butt to chair.”

That’s like saying to a hacker killing gophers on the golf course to just keep hacking, you’ll find your way eventually. Meanwhile, year after year, he continues to stink and give gray hairs to the groundskeepers.

I react this way because my experience is the opposite of John’s axiom. I did write and write, to no avail and no “breakthroughs.” Indeed, I was told several times that “writing can’t be taught.” So I gave it up. For ten long years.

When I finally felt I had to try again, I decided not to listen to the naysayers and started studying the fiction column in Writer’s Digest every month (penned by Lawrence Block, followed by Nancy Kress). I bought writing books and joined the Writer’s Digest Book Club. One of the featured titles, Jack Bickham’s Writing Novels That Sell, gave me the biggest epiphany I’ve ever had in my writing life. It was a huge breakthrough, and led directly to my stuff starting to gain interest, and eventually to sell.

When I wrote, I wrote. But I also valued my study time. And as I tested things on the page, I began to formulate my own theories and techniques and then teach them to others, many of whom have written to thank me for helping them along the fiction journey.

Where would I be if my desire to write had stalled again at the man-made wall with the graffito Writing can’t be taught? In the introduction to Plot & Structure, which keeps selling, I went so far as to call that “The Big Lie.” Because it is.

And now let’s get this deal about “rules” straight. Artists hate that word, because they want to be free! So fine! Don’t use that word!

But do think in terms of fundamentals and guidelines, the tools and techniques that work, that have stood the test of time, and will work for any writer. They are there not only to help you as you try to figure out what to write next, but to help you understand why something you’ve written doesn’t work, and how to fix it.

Perhaps this will ease the conscience of my blog brother: The most important thing a writer can do is produce the words, to write his own stuff, every day if possible. To a quota. That’s always the first and most important thing a writer does. It’s the first advice I always give anyone who asks me what they need to do to become a successful writer.

But I also say this: the writers who have the best chance to make it, to have a career or a good part-time income, will also study their craft with diligence and desire, and without a chip on the shoulder. I’ve seen it happen time after time after time.

Here is my Exhibit A, the highly successful novelist Sarah Pekkanen:

I needed advice before I tried to write a novel. The usual axiom — write what you know — wasn’t helpful. I spend my days driving my older children to school and changing my younger one’s diaper — not exactly best-seller material.

So I turned to experts. Three books gave me invaluable writing advice. One, by a best-selling writer; one, by a top New York agent; and one, by a guy who struggled for years to learn how to write a book and wanted to make it easier for the rest of us.

The books Sarah mentions are Stephen King’s On Writing, Donald Maass’s Writing the Breakout Novel, and my own Plot & Structure. And she explains exactly what she learned from each.

That was back in 2009, just before her debut novel came out. You can check out Sarah’s career trajectory here.

So leave us not speak in extremes. Don’t give us a blanket “writing can’t be taught,” because that is demonstrably false.

On the other side, don’t speak about iron-clad rules. There are critique-group commandos who will take a tip or suggestion and turn it into a law. Like the now infamous Don’t start with the weather. The real guideline should be Don’t start with the weather unless you know how to use it to hook the reader! (For further elucidation on these , see my post on Baloney Advice Writers Should Ignore.)

That’s my case. Fiction writing can be taught .. and learned … and practiced .. and made profitable. I know because I’ve got a huge email file of testimonials to prove it … and I’ve lived it myself.

The boxing ring is now open. Discuss!

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I would be remiss if I did not mention that the best of my workshops has been put into a complete video course on the craft. It’s called Writing a Novel They Can’t Put Down.