Tag Archives: shadow story

Beware of Dog and Other Things to Remember

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Beware of Dog and Other Things to Remember
Terry Odell

black and white dog with its face poking out underneath a blue fence with peeling paint and a sign saying Beware of Dog

Image by Kev from Pixabay

People like dogs. Readers like dogs. So, when I was starting my current wip, without much conscious thought, this appeared in the first 400 words of the manuscript:

“Evvie snatched the envelope from Roger’s hand, wrestled the cart to the door, and not waiting for him to offer to help, pushed the cart—none too gently—against the door to open it. She maneuvered the cart, fighting the universally requisite out-of-alignment-wheel, down the sidewalk to her SUV. After arranging her photos on the towels she kept in the back for Baxter, not concerned about his sheds of black dog hair, she slammed the hatch. She left the cart next to the nearby red maple—let Roger come get it—and drove home.

As she entered the kitchen of her little house near downtown Colorado Springs, Baxter greeted her. Bouncing, shimmying, his stump of a tail wagging as if she’d been gone a month, not thirty minutes.”

Okay, so Evvie has a dog. Dog loving readers will connect.

Then what? First, this isn’t a cozy, and these dogs don’t talk or have a POV role. The book is a romantic suspense, which means it’ll fall into the romance category. That means a hero. And they have to meet. Per reader expectations, very soon. Being a good dog parent, Evvie takes Baxter for a walk, and they end up at the neighborhood dog park. Enter the expected hero. With his dog, a golden retriever named Sammy.

All should be good. Hero and heroine have a connection. Their dogs. Although they’re not in a relationship at this point (Chapter 2), the hero has a dog, he likes dogs, and that scores points with Evvie.

Now, here’s the problem. It’s a romantic suspense, which means Bad Stuff Has to Happen. Whether they’re working independently or together, if they go anywhere, they (meaning me) can’t forget about the dog.

I’ve read books where a dog was introduced, and then hardly shows up on the page again. This is unacceptable. You put a living, breathing being on the page, and it has needs. Food. Water. Walks. And you have to take this into account in Every Single Scene. How much time has elapsed since the last scene? Where were the dogs?

In my writing, I try to keep time moving forward in real time, more or less. If I jump ahead, I make sure that’s noted. Here, I give readers credit for assuming that if it’s much later in the day, or the next day, or three days later, that the characters have gone about the normal day-to-day events, and that the dogs have as well.

Now, if I’m with my characters, then all those normal day-to-day events need to be covered somehow. Not a minute-by-minute, but at least a mention to readers can keep track of elapsed time. “After lunch” is good enough unless something important happens that moves the plot forward.

Since my characters are in the ‘getting to know each other’ stage, they need to be together. I don’t know about you, but back in my day, that was usually along the lines of dinner and a movie. Movies don’t make for good page time, but as long as some plot advancing happens, I have no trouble showing them in an eatery, where they’ll interact with servers—because how else will their food appear?—ordering, eating, etc., along with discussing those plot advancing topics.

But now I have to remember that they’ve got dogs at home. Did I skip the time where they were tending to them? It’s okay to tell rather than show everything—“After feeding and walking the dog…” but you put them on the page, so you can’t neglect them.

Likewise, if your characters have children, or are caring for an elderly parent, you can’t pop them in and out when you think of it. They’re part of the story and can’t be neglected.

JSB talks about the shadow story to keep track of other characters, especially the villain. Most of my books don’t have the kind of villains that more traditional “murder mysteries” have, so any tracking of bad guys tends to be minimal for me. However, secondary characters both human and otherwise, require tracking.

So, when the Real Trouble starts and my characters have to leave town in a hurry, they (meaning me) have dogs to deal with. Kennel them? Do they have dog sitters? Or do the dogs have to come along?

A sticky note on my computer saying “Don’t forget the dogs!” is the equivalent of my dog coming into my office and staring at me when one of her daily routine boxes needs to be checked.

(Side note, along similar lines. If you say a character needs to pee, I want to see that they’ve had a chance to hit a restroom. I’ve seen authors ignore this step, too. Drives me nuts.)

Basic “rule.” If you mention anything, it becomes a thread that has to be followed. Don’t leave readers hanging. Or thinking your characters are less than likeable because they’re not taking care of the dogs (or people) they’re responsible for.

What about you, TKZers? Do you avoid pets because of the complications they throw into the work? If your characters have pets (or other humans they’re responsible for), how do you deal with the requisite “care and feeding”?

Find me at Substack with Writings and Wanderings

Deadly Ambitions
Peace in Mapleton doesn’t last. Police Chief Gordon Hepler is already juggling a bitter ex-mayoral candidate who refuses to accept election results and a new council member determined to cut police department’s funding.
Meanwhile, Angie’s long-delayed diner remodel uncovers an old journal, sparking her curiosity about the girl who wrote it. But as she digs for answers, is she uncovering more than she bargained for?
Now, Gordon must untangle political maneuvering, personal grudges, and hidden agendas before danger closes in on the people he loves most.
Deadly Ambitions delivers small-town intrigue, political tension, and page-turning suspense rooted in both history and today’s ambitions.

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

In Search of the Penny Drop

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by James Scott Bell
@jamesscottbell

Mutoscope at Disneyland

In the good old days (you know, before virtual reality, smartphones, TikTok, and even TV and radio) the kids loved to go to penny arcades. So named because almost everything in them cost a penny, they provided brief respite and entertainment from the drudgery of life. 

For that one copper coin you could play games—like the claw-grabbing-a-toy game—or get your fortune told. 

Most popular were Kinetoscopes and Mutoscopes. The former were short silent films, the latter a series of flipping photographs that told a short story. When you first looked into these machines you saw only one image. When your penny dropped you turned a crank and the “show” started. 

Which is where we get the concept of the “penny drop” in mystery fiction. It is that moment where something happens that triggers or points to the final solution. It’s that last bit that allows the sleuth to connect the dots. 

We see it in all classic mysteries, from Holmes to Poirot, Father Brown to Miss Marple, Columbo to Jessica Fletcher.

In my own thrillers, there is usually a mystery at the heart of things. Which means I need that penny drop. It is often the last thing I find. In my personal Scrivener template, I have a penultimate card labeled “Penny Drop” where I scribble notes as I go along. I’ll include memos sent by the Boys in the Basement when I first wake up.

When you nail the penny drop, it’s one of the most satisfying moments of the whole process.

Here is a description of the penny drop from Tom Sawyer’s excellent Fiction Writing Demystified (Note: Sawyer was showrunner for Murder, She Wrote.)

[T]he penny drops for the sleuth at the instant he or she hears, sees, tastes, smells touches or otherwise experiences something which—when combined (usually mentally) with a fact or facts gleaned earlier—tells the detective that till now, everyone in the show has been following false leads. Suddenly, the protagonist has it FIGURED OUT—if not all of it, most of it—and is off and running in the direction of the “Gotcha” scene, leaving the other characters, and the viewers, mystified as to what has been put together, how it has been accomplished, and where he or she plans to go with it.

And here is the #1 most important rule (there, I said it) of all:

[I]t’s important, even if the  penny drop is prompted for the protagonist by some lucky accident or coincidence, that most of the other elements of the equation are earned—the result of his or her doing.

Put that down on a Sticky Note and paste it where you can see it, or better yet burn it into your writer’s memory bank.

Now, mystery writers are all over the map when it comes to the who done it part. Some like to write a discovery draft to find out. Others, me included, like to start with the who and the motive, giving me a “shadow story” that helps create the plot. 

Whatever your approach, you’re going to need the right penny drop. How to find it?

1. Don’t settle on the first thing that comes to mind. It may be the right solution, but allow others to bubble up and audition. In my Romeo WIP, I seriously considered at least six possible drops. I woke up one morning with a seventh in my mind, and that’s the one I chose.

2. Create a visual of all the main characters and look at them from time to time. I use two things for this: A Scapple (a Scrivener app that lets you create mind maps and connection); and a Scrivener corkboard with character photos (since you’re not publishing these, you can use Google images, which is my preferred method. It’s no secret many writers create their own images with AI).

3. Consider all the senses. As Sawyer points out, not every penny drop is visual. There’s sound (see Chesterton’s Father Brown story “The Queer Feet”), smell, taste, touch. Agatha Christie used every one of these at one time or another. 

Of course, not every book has a traditional mystery involved. But I contend page-turning fiction always has mystery elements that keep the reader wondering, Why is this happening? What’s going to happen next? How can the character possibly survive (physically, psychologically, or professionally)?

Instead of solving a murder, you can use the penny drop as a “big reveal” that explains all the happenings to the main character (as in Daphne du Maurier’s Rebecca) or to the readers themselves (Gone Girl).

It has been announced that the U.S. Mint will soon stop making pennies. I’ll miss them. I used to spend mine on Bazooka bubble gum, with its comics featuring Bazooka Joe. Will it now be a nickel for your thoughts? There’s inflation for you.

Here at TKZ, your thoughts are free, so go ahead and share them!

The Power of the Shadow Story

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ShadowsI was at a conference a couple of weeks ago and a new writer came up to me, said she had a great concept and had used one of my books to outline the plot. She was now 30k words into the novel and scared. She said it felt like she was looking out at sea from a tiny raft. There was this looonnng way to go in Act II, but now she wasn’t sure she had enough plot material to make it.

“Ah,” I said like a liposuction surgeon, “the sagging middle. No worries. I’m here to help!”

We sat and talked a bit about signpost scenes and she understood all that. But it was clear she needed more “story stuff” in her plans.

So I suggested she write the shadow story. This is the part of the novel many writers never think about, yet it’s one of the most powerful plotting techniques there is. It will take you places you’d never find if you only danced around in the light.

Simply put, the shadow story is what is taking place away from the scene you are writing. It’s what the other characters are doing “off screen.” By giving thought to the shadows, even minimally, you greatly expand your store of plot material.

A few tips:

Start With The Antagonist

The most important shadow is the opposition character. Someone once said a good plot is two dogs and one bone. So while your Lead is gnawing the bone in one scene, your antagonist (off screen) is laying plans to snatch that bone away. Or setting in motion a scheme to kill the lead dog. Or messing with the dogs who are helping the lead dog.

Or maybe he’s overusing canine metaphors.

Whatever it is, by getting into the head of the opposition character, who is somewhere else, you will come up with all sorts of ideas for plot complications. It’s almost automatic. Fresh scenes, mysteries, obstacles will spring up from your writer’s mind. Your Act II problems will begin to melt away.

Supporting Characters

You also have a cast of supporting characters, major and minor, who all have lives and plans and motives of their own. Here you will find the fodder for those plot twists every reader loves. Like when a seeming ally turns out to be a betrayer. Or an enemy becomes a friend. Why would that happen? Let their shadow stories tell you.

Shadows Inside the Lead

You can also delve into the shadows and secrets of your Lead. Maybe you’ve done this already, by giving your Lead a backstory and answering key questions about her life (education, hopes, fears, lost loves, etc.)

But every now and then, in the middle of the writing, pause to come up with something going on inside the Lead that she is not even aware of. Try what I call “the opposite exercise”: The Lead, in a scene, has a specific want or need (if she doesn’t, you need to get her one fast, or cut that scene!) Now, pause and ask: what if your Lead wanted something the exact opposite of this want or need? What would that be? List some possibilities. Choose one of those. Ask: Why would she want that? How could it mess with her head?

Then look for ways to manifest this inner shadow in some of your scenes.

Or imagine your Lead doing something that is the opposite of what the reader or, more importantly, you would expect in that scene. What sort of shadow (secret) made her do that?

Just by asking these sorts of questions, you deepen your Lead and add interesting crosscurrents to the plot.

That’s the power of the shadow story.

Practical Tools

There are two excellent ways to keep track of your shadow story material.

First, Scrivener. I know some people are intimidated by all the bells and whistles of this program. My advice is to use it for a few simple things (mapping your scenes on the corkboard; keeping track of your cast of characters) and then learn other stuff at your own pace, and only if you want to. At such a reasonable price, Scrivener is cost effective for whatever you use it for.

Here is a screen shot of a scene being written (click to enlarge). The page with the text is just like a Word document. Scrivener lets you dedicate a document to one scene or chapter.

Mount Hermon 1 Notice on the bottom right there’s a box labeled “Document Notes.” This is place where you can jot down anything relating to the scene on the left. Perfect for shadow story. You can be as brief or as detailed as you like.

The other method is to use the Comments function in Word. Just insert a comment which gives the shadow material:

Mount Hermon 2

Remember, all sorts of good stuff happens in the shadows. Go there, snoop around, then come back to the light and finish your novel.