Tag Archives: #writetip

Joe Hartlaub Words of Wisdom

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TKZ lost a beloved member of our family recently when alumnus Joe Hartlaub passed away. Debbie Burke did a wonderful post about some of his contributions here a few days after his passing.

I only knew Joe through his posts and comments at TKZ, but his warmth and wit shown through in his words. He encouraged me in my writing endeavors, and was over the Moon for me when he learned I had writing going to Luna aboard the Peregrine lander as part of the Writers on the Moon project. My bi-weekly Saturday TKZ spot was held by Joe before he retired from the blog, and passed it to Steve Hooley, who later passed it to me.

As Debbie noted in her post, Joe wrote on a wide range of topics. Today I’m sharing some of his writing wisdom. Since I couldn’t stop at three excerpts, we have one very short excerpt and three longer ones. Each post is date-linked at the bottom of their respective excerpts and are well-worth reading in their entirety.

I say to all: if you have a project of any sort uncompleted, for whatever reason: pick it up, resume work, and get it done. Nine words: so easy to hear, so quick to write, so hard to do. But please take the advice, so that you are not repeatedly kicking your own posterior down the road as I have been for the last few days.

May 23, 2015

My wife Lisa’s greatest joy — after her husband, of course, and our ungrateful, unappreciative daughter — is her enjoyment of wild birds. We (well, she) has a couple of large, impervious-to-squirrels feeders set up outside of our kitchen window, and Lisa will spend hours photographing the birds that come to take advantage of the seemingly endless supply of seed that is there for the taking. One characteristic of birds, however, is that they are slobs. They drop seed, they leave husks, and…well, you know the rest. We as a result get a nightly show in the form of nocturnal creatures gathering at night beneath the feeders in a heartwarming tableau. The opossums are first to arrive. They get there early to begin eating the seed that has been left on the ground. They eventually, however, are rudely shoved aside by the raccoons, the neighborhood bully boys who push aside the opossums as if they aren’t even there. The collective attitude of the masked bandits changes quickly, however, when the skunks arrive. Their “outta my way, kid” demeanor quickly changes to, “Oh, my, hello, Mr. Skunk! How nice to see you! We’ve been saving this pile of seed just for you.” Skunks are just so gentle and shy and cute as they walk up and begin eating. They don’t take any mess, however. I did see a young raccoon, one who apparently didn’t get the memo, try to nudge a skunk out of its way. The skunk engaged in some non-violent resistance, turning around and putting his tail up, resulting in three raccoons setting new distance and reaction records for standing side jumps. I didn’t know raccoons could jump sideways. They apparently can, if properly motivated.

What do those cute vignettes have to do with writing? Quite a bit, actually. After you’ve been writing for a while, you’re going to get the sense of what works and what doesn’t for you. Write what works for you. If you are good at writing action scenes but poor at writing dialogue, go with the explosions and karate and make you characters strong and silent. If you’re not able to write a convincing love scene without embarrassing yourself, don’t entangle your character in anything other than barb wire. If you can write great sex scenes but drop the thread on complex mysteries, keep the mystery simple and secondary to the amorous scenes in the bedroom or elsewhere. Our friend the opossum’s main strengths are to convincingly play dead (we’ve all run into folks like that, haven’t we, heh heh) and get places early. If you are good at writing action scenes, start with a strong one and jump from one to another. Your story may be best served by letting the plot drive it. As far as the skunk goes, we’re talking cute but dangerous. “Dangerous” isn’t too strong a word; making that midnight run out to a Sam’s Club for several five-gallon cans of tomato juice to erase the scent of skunk spray will make a believer out of you. So…the character is going to drive your story. Cute but dangerous? Think of Jack Reacher as played by, uh, Tom Cruise. If you are blessed with the ability to let plot and characters drive your novel, you’re like a raccoon. You can sense your story’s weaknesses and strengths, and sense when something can play out a bit or, alternatively, when it’s time to wrap it up.

Which animal are you when you write? One of the above? Or another? And why?…oh, and the animal at the top of my humble offering today? To paraphrase Raymond Chandler…”What. The owl? Oh. I forgot about him.” Not really. Owls are skunks’ natural predators. The reason? Owls don’t have olfactory glands.

May 21, 2016

I am miserable at outlining. A lot of writers are. I have a friend and client, an author who writes novels in huge chunks but never outlines. He emailed me the other morning to tell me that he had written 22,000 words in the last four days and still had no idea where his latest novel was going. I understand. But. I have an entire outline. It has a beginning and an ending and a wonderful middle — usually the hardest part — so I am writing most of the middle first, going, like John Coltrane, in both directions at once while listening to the Top 40 songs of 1944 for inspiration. I’ve changed a few things in the original outline along the way, not because the original idea did not work, but because I thought of something else that worked better. There is a mentality at work — and it’s not just with me — that says if one has an outline you have to rigidly stick to it. No. It’s your outline. You can change it if you want when you want and for whatever reason you want. Think of it as a house that you love but are going to remodel. To go back to Misery, the ending of that book is far, far different from what King originally envisioned. While his original ending appeals to me in a sort of sick, twisted way, I think he ultimately wrote a better book. All he did was change his outline just a bit.

My advice du jour, after saying all of that, is 1) don’t give up the story you have for the story you want. They might both be the same thing; 2) outline. You can change it. It’s yours. You will, however,  have a clear idea initially of where you are starting, where you are going, and how you are going to get there. Just leave yourself free to make rest stops, take detours, and see the sights along the way; 3) if you get an idea in the middle of the night, get upright and commit as much as you can to paper, screen, or whatever. You can change it later, run with it, or put it aside, but once you forget it, it’s gone; and 4) don’t listen to your pipsqueak under any circumstance.

April 6, 2019

It sometimes helps, however, to sit back for a moment (as opposed to a week, or a month, or longer) to discern what is one’s prime motivator, regardless of what they are trying to accomplish. I was reminded of this last week as I listened to a lecture titled “Counseling Your Client to Reduce Stress & Succeed in Litigation” given by Alan S. Fanger, Esq., as part of the lawline.com legal education series. Mr. Fanger, the president of EmpowerLegal, Inc. touched upon many subjects dealing with how to prepare a client for trial.  My major takeaway from his presentation, however, was a discussion concerning how to successfully accomplish a task. Mr. Fanger put forth the proposition that it is more important to focus upon what needs to be done to perform the task successfully than upon the consequences of the failure to do so. He concluded that focusing on consequences rather than how to do the job will guarantee failure.

Mr. Fanger used an example from the world of professional football to illustrate his point. You don’t have to be a football fan to appreciate it.  There was a cringe-inducing moment during the 2016 NFC Wild Card playoff between the Minnesota Vikings and Seattle Seahawks. A Vikings player named Blair Walsh was tasked near the end of the game with kicking a field goal which would have, all other factors being equal, won the game for Minnesota. It was a short kick (for a professional football player) of twenty-seven yards. Walsh missed it, in front of God and everybody. It wasn’t as if Walsh was pulled out of the stands to make the effort, either. The game in question was a low scoring one. Walsh had actually scored all nine of Minnesota’s points during that game by kicking field goals from longer distances. He missed that last one, however. It was indeed a bitter pill to swallow, one that some football fans remember to this day. While none of us can accurately predict what goes through anyone’s mind in the moments before making an attempt at a task, Mr. Fanger submitted that perhaps Blair Walsh was more focused on the enormity of what would happen if he failed — losing the game and thus failing to advance to the Super Bowl that year — than upon what he needed to do to succeed.

That conclusion may or may not be true. It makes sense, however. You may have heard of something which is currently called “analysis paralysis.” It’s a term applied to overthinking, which is easy to do because in a very subtle way it delays the need to make a decision as to what to do. Let’s look at a very famous incident that required immediate decision and focused implementation. I am sure that the name Chesley “Sully” Sullenberger is familiar to all of you. Captain Sullenberger was piloting a commercial airliner when a bird strike shortly after takeoff from LaGuardia Airport disabled his aircraft’s engines. Captain Sullenberger, a veteran Air Force and commercial pilot, made some calculations and concluded that landing at an airport wasn’t an option. He made a decision and told his control tower, “We’ll be in the Hudson.” That is where he landed his plane. The conclusion of that particular incident would have been quite different if Captain Sullenberger had focused upon and overwhelmed by the consequences of failure — job loss, destruction of property, and, oh yeah, loss of life — instead of upon the best method (under the circumstances ) of landing the plane and the passengers with which he had been entrusted. He made a decision and acted on it, focusing on what he needed to do to succeed. “We’ll be in the Hudson,” Just so.

Think about Captain Sullenberger the next time you sit down to write and find that the old bugaboo — “I gotta finish this” — gets in the way. You probably have near at hand everything you need to succeed, including writing instruments, a command of language, imagination, the will to start, and your own mind.  I had all of those within reach when I began writing today’s post. I didn’t consider what would happen if I didn’t. It was more constructive and more fun, actually, to start writing and see, to paraphrase Dorothy Sayers, where my whimsy would take me. The finished product is just a bit different than what I had envisioned it would be, but that’s okay, too. I’m happy with it. I don’t know if I kicked it between the goalposts, but I think I landed in the Hudson, and I hope I didn’t lose anyone.

January 25, 2020

***

There you have it, four pieces of writing wisdom from Joe Hartlaub.

Please share you thoughts on these in the comments below.

Immersion Technique #WriteTip

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Every character is the hero of their own story. Even the villain.

We’ve talked many times about the importance of fleshing out characters. This time let’s reframe the narrative for those who may not grasp the finer details of crafting a compelling villain.

It’s easy to tell a fellow writer to slip into the villain’s skin and view the world through their eyes—I’ve given the same advice—but for those who haven’t mastered characterization, it may not be enough.

  • How does one craft a killer when they’ve never committed a crime?
  • How can we champion a villain’s efforts with no real-world experience?

Sure, we can draw conclusions and make assumptions. Is that enough for readers?

  • Is there a way to pull from life experience, to really feel what it’s like to transform into somebody else?

Yes, there is. And it’s called immersion. Method actors use the same technique.

The dictionary defines immersion as “deep mental involvement.” It can also mean engagement, as in a mixture of how much you’re paying attention, how submerged you are in an experience, and how it affects you emotionally.

Immersion, whether real or imagined, taps into fundamental psychological principles like perception, emotional engagement, and the sense of presence. It involves a combination of sensory stimuli, cognitive engagement, and emotional resonance that creates a feeling of being completely absorbed in the experience.

Immersive experiences are rich and complex, drawing upon personal experiences, and engage with emotions through the manipulation of the five senses. They’re described as transformational, intense, sometimes hectic, and provoking.

What we see tells us a lot about the world around us, but what the body experiences is much more powerful.

How we immerse ourselves in a life unlike our own starts with walking in their shoes. Listen to the villain’s favorite music. Eat their favorite foods. View the world through their eyes.

  • What’s their culture like?
  • What’s their theme song?
  • What’s their religion, politics, and views on other hot topics?
  • Do they like the rain? Cold weather? Scorching hot sun?
  • Are they happy with where they live? Or have they been trying to escape the area for years?
  • What do they do for a living? Do they have buddies at work?
  • Are they body conscious and drink water all day? Or do they drink black coffee till noon, then switch to scotch?
  • Do they smoke? I’m not proposing you start smoking but you can pretend.

Even if the character’s actions rub against your values and beliefs, you must find at least one redeeming quality, or at least be able to empathize with a part of them.

Take Ed Kemper, for example. His mother was a severe alcoholic who favored his two sisters and never missed the chance to belittle him. Ed’s father, a World War II veteran, hated his wife. The couple divorced when Ed was still in grammar school.

Living with his mother was no picnic. She locked him in the cellar for days and/or weeks at a time—alone—a bare lightbulb hanging from a wire in the center of the dark and creepy space. Since the door locked from the outside, the only way out was through a trap door beneath the dining room table.

Trapped, Ed lay on the cold cement floor staring into the flame of the furnace. And it was then, he later told an FBI profiler, he saw the face of the Devil for the first time. That period of his life exacerbated his already fractured mind.

Later, at age 14, his father sent him to live with his grandparents in California. Interestingly, Maude (grandmother) was an extra in Gone with the Wind and a writer for Redbook McCall’s. Even so, Ed hated living there, calling his grandfather “senile” and his grandmother, well, this is how he described her…

“She thought she had more balls than any man and was constantly emasculating me and my grandfather to prove it. I couldn’t please her. It was like being in jail. I became a walking time bomb, and I finally blew.”

And blew he did, with the murder of his grandparents. Authorities sent him to Atascadero State Hospital, a maximum-security facility where doctors subjected him to various tests. One of which illuminated his genius IQ. They also diagnosed him as a paranoid schizophrenic.

In the six years he spent at the institution, he became one of the doctors’ favorite patients. They even allowed him to assist in conducting tests on other inmates, until 1969 when they released him into his mother’s care.

Big mistake. At 6 ft. 9 inches tall and 250 pounds, Ed was a mammoth with a genius IQ and a rage inside him.

After killing and decapitating six young women, he finally turned his wrath on Mother—the true source of his hatred—murdering, decapitating, and using her head as a dartboard. He also tore out Mother’s vocal cords and shoved them down the garbage disposal. When the disposal spat the gristly innards back out, he said to himself,

“That seems appropriate as much as she’d bitched and screamed and yelled at me over so many years.”

With his personal monster dead, Ed turned himself into police. He had no reason to kill anymore. He’s lived at California Medical Facility in Vacaville ever since. As a model inmate, he’s allowed to work as an audiobook narrator.

If Ed Kemper was a fictional villain, how would you make him the hero of his own story?

We’d need to focus on the abused little boy, alone and frightened, that still cried inside him and the personable guy who doctors adored. Does that mean I agree with what he did? Absolutely not. But as writers, we must find a way to justify his actions. We must. Otherwise, the villain will fall flat.

Now, don’t tell the reader what redeeming qualities you clung to while writing. Show them a tidbit here and there—just enough to pique curiosity and drive the plot—that make him feel more human. Or let the hero figure it out on their own.

If the villain is a series character, only reveal enough to intrigue and drive the plot. I did this with my serial killer named Mayhem. In three books, I showed him as a merciless serial killer. I also showed his love of animals, especially his sidekick Poe, the crow, and how tender he could be when caring for a wife stricken with ALS and his close relationship with his daughter and grandson.

Mayhem loves fine wine and is an expert chef, but he’s offended by bad language and numerous other things, especially rapists, cannibals, and child killers. Readers fell in love with Mayhem. Deeply in love. So much so, I had to transform him into an antihero in later books.

Readers understand, even champion, why he kills.

We did the same with Dexter. Who didn’t love to watch him murder other serial killers? Genius on Lindsay’s part.

Find a different angle for your villain. Copycats aren’t unique or memorable. Villains are some of the most difficult characters to craft because they do bad things. I also find villains and antiheroes the most rewarding to write.

The next time you craft a character vastly different from yourself, try immersion. It works for the entire cast, including heroes, sidekicks, foils, secondary characters, etc.

Chiastic Structure

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Chiasmus – noun – a reversal in the order of words in two otherwise parallel phrases, as in “He went to the country, to the town went she.”

* * *

I recently encountered an episode of Thomas Umstadt Jr’s Author Media podcast entitled How to Write Enduring Best Sellers with the Two-act Chiastic Structure. I wasn’t familiar with the term “chiastic”, so I listened and learned a lot.

According to Umstadt

Western storytelling is typically based on the three-act structure. … However, the three-act structure is not the only story structure. There is an ancient story structure that dates back to the time of oral storytelling. This ancient structure is still popular in the East, yet it appeals to modern Western readers.

This two-act concept is the chiastic structure, and it can be used for sentences, poetry, stories, or even series. A famous example of a chiastic sentence was used by President John F. Kennedy in his inaugural address:

“Ask not what your country can do for you—ask what you can do for your country.”

No matter what length, the chiastic structure follows an ABBA model and can be illustrated by two lines crossing like this:

In the Kennedy example, A = “your country” and B = “you.” The second part of the statement is a mirror image of the first.

* * *

But chiastic structure gets really interesting when it’s applied to stories. Check out this example from Wikipedia that shows the Biblical narrative of Noah and the Ark as it moves from A to the midpoint and then resolves from the midpoint back to A’.

Amazing!

* * *

I tend to think of story structure more as an arc. Rising action, crisis and midpoint, falling action and resolution.

However, after I read about chiastic structure, I realize I’ve used a modified form of it a couple of times in my books. In my first novel, The Watch on the Fencepost, the story begins when a young woman finds a mysterious watch on a fencepost which propels her on a quest to find the truth about her parents’ untimely deaths. Their deaths represent the loss of her closest relationships. The book ends when she finds another watch on the same fencepost that solidifies her relationship with a man who will become a special part of her life.

I always thought of this kind of writing as bookends to a story, but there’s a lot more to chiastic structure. I suppose the internal chapters have to mirror each other. I haven’t tried anything close to this, but it would be interesting to outline a story with that structure.

* * *

So TKZers: Are you familiar with chiastic structure? Have you used it in your own writing? Is it something you think you may want to use in the future?

* * *

Coming Soon!

Another Side of Sunshine
A Reen & Joanie Detective Agency Mystery

Spunky ten-year-old Reen and her shy nine-year-old cousin Joanie go on a quest to find a treasure hidden by the mysterious Mr. Shadow. Along the way, they discover new insights into friendship and fair play.

 

Scars Tell a Story #WriteTip

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Close-up of a scarred male lion

Click to Enlarge

While watching my wildlife gorge on peanuts, bread, almonds, dates, and raisins one morning, an impressive male bluejay caught my attention. Tall, well-built, and mysterious. The moment he landed on the food table in front of my window, the scarring on his face came into focus, and I wondered what happened to him.

Scars tell a story, an undeniable truth of the past. Perhaps “Scar” had a run-in with a hawk in his youth. The scars looked old, as though they’d formed during his development years or changed him as a young adult. The feathers atop the usual bluejay markings were much darker — midnight black — the skin obviously disrupted by a traumatic experience.

What was Scar’s wounding event? Did he fight this battle alone? Or did a predator kill his entire family in the nest?

I can only speculate. The answers died long ago.

All in all, Scar is a happy little dude, but also more cautious than the others, which adds some validity to my hypothesis as to how he received the scars. I’m intrigued by Scar, and pray a human didn’t hurt him. He piques my interest. Keeps me guessing about his past.

If Scar was a character in a novel, I could never stop flipping pages until I’d unraveled the mystery behind his scars. The author would have hooked me simply by showing me his face. What seems like a minor detail like a scar adds to the hero’s characterization. And you can bet an emotional scar lurks behind the physical disruption. All species, including humans, are affected by past events.

bluejay on snow

Not Scar. I cannot photograph him while we’re building trust.

Take Scar, for example. He waits for others to sample the food before he takes a bite. He watches how I interact with the other bluejays before he approaches.

He’s careful.

Reserved.

Suspicious of humans or new food sources.

The rest of the party (my favorite collective noun for a group of bluejays) scream with excitement and joy.

Not Scar. He’s quiet. Hangs back. Learns. Only after he’s gathered enough intel to satisfy his inquisitive mind does he feel safe enough to fly closer. I admire that about him. It shows he’s intelligent.

As writers, we’re told to include emotional scars but we also shouldn’t avoid physical scars. And not only for villains. Heroes wear scars, too.

Tattoos are often reminders of a special time in one’s life or symbolize what the wearer loves, embodies, or believes in. They can also help the wearer regain control over a trauma or cover, even enhance, a physical scar.

Years ago, I knew a young woman who was born with a cleft palate and left with scars from the corrective surgery. She never felt beautiful. All she could see were her scars. But she was beautiful, inside and out. Since few could make her see herself through their eyes, she turned to drugs and alcohol and eventually lost her life.

Some say, it’s more difficult for women to deal with facial scars than men. I know from personal experience that isn’t necessarily true. Both men and women try to hide scars public. It’s easier than having to retell — or relive — the story behind them.

Back in 1995, I was involved in a car accident that threw me into the windshield. Half conscious, I opened my eyes while stuck in the glass and tried to break free. The movement tore off my left eyebrow, eyelashes, upper eyelid, a chunk of my nose, split open my upper lip, and cracked all my teeth. The hospital called in a plastic surgeon to repair the damage to the left side of my face. Doctors told me I’d never regrow my eyebrow or eyelashes. For a girl in her twenties, it was devastating news.

I’ve never been one to follow the norm, or listen to doctors who think they can predict the future. Instead, I prayed for a miracle. Little by little, as I picked glass shards out of both eyes for several weeks, tiny hairs filled in my eyebrow and my lashes sprouted new growth. The doctors couldn’t believe it. My progress from the accident to full eyebrow and lashes is now in medical journals.

The emergency plastic surgery left me with scars on my eyelid, nose, and above my left upper lip. If you and I met in person, you might never notice. I only allow those closest to me to see my scars without makeup. When I’m tired, they pop right out. Not sure why scars get more visible then, but I’m not alone…

A dear friend for the last 30+ years got badly injured on a motorcycle when his gas tank exploded. The melted skin covering his right armpit looks like it belongs to Freddy Kruger. And the deep scarring on his forehead and zipper-like indent in his skull are still prominent 40 years after the accident. I love his scars. He wouldn’t be the same man without them.

Not only are scars reminders of past trauma but how one dealt with the injury and pain, then and now.

Like me, my friend also covers his scars in public. Only those closest to him are allowed to see the extent of his old injuries (2nd dimension of character = the person family and friends know). Neither of us regret our scars. They remind us that we’re lucky to be alive, along with all our other physical scars. Doesn’t mean we want to share them with the world (1st dimension of character = one’s public face).

See how a detail like a scar can inform one’s character? Keep it in mind while crafting your hero or secondary characters. Just remember to note them in your story bible, so a scar on the left cheek doesn’t move to the right in subsequent chapters and/or books. LOL

Would anyone like to share their scars and the story behind them? Have you ever seen a scarred bluejay or other backyard bird? I don’t dare photograph Scar until he gets to know me better, or the trust we’ve built may crumble.

Bad Decisions

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Every choice comes with a consequence. —Roy T. Bennett

* * *

Human history is strewn with the results of bad decisions.

  • Someone decided to fill the Hindenburg airship with hydrogen rather than helium. Thirty-six people died.
  • The captain of the Titanic decided to maintain speed through the icy waters of the North Atlantic even though icebergs had been reported in the area. More than fifteen hundred people died.
  • Napoleon decided to invade Russia and lost most of his army. Nearly a million people died.

* * *

Sometimes a disaster isn’t the result of just one bad decision, but many small ones.

Take the story of the Titan missile disaster, for example. (Most of the facts cited here were taken from the This American Life podcast, Episode 634. A transcript can be found here.)

As most of us know, there are missile silos located all over the United States. They house intercontinental ballistic missiles that are armed with nuclear warheads intended to keep us safe by preventing bad actors from trying to attack the U.S.

Missile sites are placed deep underground with heavily insulated control centers nearby, and lots and lots of concrete and steel between the silo and the outside world.

Now you might think ICBMs just sit in their silos waiting for something to happen. But actually, the missiles have to be maintained just like any other manmade artifact. You would think that such a high-stakes situation would be so closely monitored that nothing could go wrong.

You would think.

In September 1980, the Titan II missile in Damascus, Arkansas was scheduled for maintenance. The Titan II, at that time the most powerful weapon in the American nuclear arsenal, was loaded with two different liquid fuels in separate compartments rather than the solid fuel used in later missiles. If the highly volatile, toxic liquid fuels escaped or met unexpectedly, there could be a disaster.

Two young men were assigned the maintenance task. The first one, we’ll call him Primary Worker, was experienced. The second, let’s call him Trainee, was in training.

The task was straightforward. One of the missile’s fuel tanks was low on pressure, so all they had to do was take off a cap and add some fuel.  Sort of like pumping gas into your car. Primary Worker was familiar with the procedure. No problem.

In order for the work to begin, however, the hydraulic platform, which was like an elevator that went up and down the side of the missile, had to be lowered. But there was a problem with the platform, and the maintenance guys had to wait for a couple of hours while workers fixed it.

At this point, it was late Friday afternoon, heading into evening. You can just imagine two young men who are eager to meet friends and start the weekend being told there was a delay. It must have been frustrating. We all know what it’s like when we have something planned, but somebody throws a wrench into the works. (This will be extremely meaningful later.)

Finally, the hydraulic platform was repaired. The two young men donned their protective suits and started down the long tunnel to the silo. At some point, they realized they had forgotten the torque wrench that was required for the job.

Rather than causing a further delay by getting out of his suit, following all the protocol of going back to his truck to retrieve the torque wrench, and then redoing everything, Primary Worker made Bad Decision #1: ignore the regulation and use a huge, two-piece ratchet wrench which he had with him. Trainee questioned the decision, but Primary Worker said he’d done it before, and it was not a problem.

The two men proceeded to the silo and took the hydraulic platform up. When it stopped, they were roughly eighty feet above the base of the missile.

The platform had a rubber bumper that was supposed to be flush against the side of the missile to prevent anything from dropping, but the equipment was old, and there was a gap between the platform and the missile.

The two men used the ratchet wrench to remove the cap from the missile. Everything went smoothly.

Bad decision #2: One of the men handed his part of the wrench to the other one. The other man dropped it.

Are you getting worried yet?

The socket fell between the platform and the side of the missile. Of course, it gained momentum as it plummeted eighty feet. My husband calculated it was probably going about fifty mph when it hit the thrust ring that the missile sat atop, bounced, and—you guessed it—punctured a hole in the side of the missile. Fuel began to spray out. What are the chances?

At this point, the maintenance men should have radioed the control center and told them about the accident. They didn’t.

Bad decision #3: Instead of contacting the control center and owning up to what had happened, Primary Worker simply called in and said there was a cloud of vapor coming out of the side of the rocket. The maintenance men were ordered back to the control center.

Alarms began to sound in the control center. Horns were going off, lights were flashing, and people there were rushing around trying to understand the problem, but it didn’t make sense because they didn’t have the whole picture.

When the maintenance men got back to the control center, they saw the chaos that was in progress, but they made Bad decision #4: they still didn’t let the authorities know that the side of the missile had been punctured. Since the fuel compartments were pressurized, at some point enough fuel would leak out, the bottom compartment would collapse, and there would probably be an explosion. But the people in the control center didn’t know how to treat the problem because they didn’t know what the problem was.

Finally, one of the controllers suspected the maintenance men were holding something back, so he approached them and insisted that they say exactly what had happened. They finally came clean.

When the truth became clear, the people in the control center realized an explosion was imminent. They contacted their superiors.

The question was whether to remain in the control center which was designed to withstand a nuclear hit, or to evacuate.

Bad decision #5: The commanding officer ordered them to evacuate.

When the explosion came, there were men outside in the fields and woods around the complex. Huge chunks of metal and concrete debris, some as large as a school bus, rained down. The lid of the silo, a 1.5-million pound slab of concrete and steel, was hurled over 500 feet.

The nuclear warhead ejected from the missile and landed in a ditch a quarter mile away from the silo. It didn’t detonate. If it had … well, let’s not think about that.

So there you have it. A perfect storm of bad decisions. At each stage, the stakes were raised that led to a disaster.  It could have been worse.

Incidentally, the accident prompted a change in regulations. Workers now have to attach their tools to themselves by a lanyard. Good decision.

* * *

Although we try to avoid making bad decisions in real life, they can be the stuff of great fiction. After all, bad decisions are usually born out of base human fallacies: fear, hubris, anger, greed, envy, lust, impatience, frustration… The list goes on. And these make wonderful fodder for storytelling. As each bad choice is made in a story, it ratchets (pun intended) up the tension. Each new decision raises the stakes and ensures the reader will turn the page.

Think of some of the great fictional examples of bad choices.

  • The Trojans decided to accept the gift of a wooden horse from the Greeks.
  • The mayor of Amity Island in the movie Jaws decided to keep the beaches open even though there had been a shark sighted in the area.
  • Scientists decided to use DNA extracted from fossilized mosquitoes to create dinosaurs in Jurassic Park.

It just goes to show you:

Bad choices make good stories. —Rajkumar Hirani

* * *

So TKZers: Can you think of any examples of bad decision-making from books you’ve read? How about characters in your own books. Have they made bad choices?

 

 

Private pilot Cassie Deakin has to decide whom she can trust while she’s looking for a murderer. Her bad choices almost get her killed.

Available at  Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Google Play, or Apple Books.

 

Let’s Talk Turkey #WriteTip

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I moved into my new place last week. Hence why you haven’t seen me in the comment section. It took two weeks to pack. I’m now unpacking. I found a cozy little abode on the New Hampshire seacoast, near the Massachusetts border. It’s the best of both worlds — two minutes from anything I might need, yet a quiet country setting with plenty of wildlife.

As I gazed out my kitchen window for the first time, five huge male turkeys stood sentinel in the yard. Soon, twenty-five more joined them to socialize, feast, and play. The original five Toms guard the property all day. There’s also an adorable opossum and three albino skunks — stunning all white fur — who come nightly to eat alongside the resident stray cat. All four share the same bowl.

Why can’t humans put aside their differences like animals can?

For my fellow crow lovers out there, a murder of crows arrived on day two. Or Poe and the gang followed me. Sure sounds like Poe’s voice, but I can’t be certain until I set up their feeding spot and take a closer look. My murder has white dots, each in different spots, which helps me tell them apart. Plus, Poe has one droopy wing.

As I watched the five Toms this morning, it reminded me of a post I’d written back in 2017 (time flies on TKZ, doesn’t it?). So, I thought I’d revamp that post a bit, and tweak for our pantser friends.

***

Clare’s recent post got me thinking about craft and how, as we write, the story inflates like a Tom turkey. If you think about it long enough and throw in a looming deadline, Tom Turkey and story structure have a lot in common.

Stay with me. I promise it’ll make sense, but I will ask you to take one small leap of faith — I need you to picture Tom Turkey as the sum of his parts, constructed by craft. And yes, this light bulb blazed on over the Thanksgiving holiday. We are now having spiral ham for Christmas dinner.

But I digress.

Story beats build Tom’s spine. Think of each milestone as vertebrae. Pantsers, let the story unfold as it flows. You can always check the beat placement after the drafting stage.

The ribs that extend from Tom’s spine liken to the equal parts that expand our beats and tell us how our characters should react before, during, and after the quest.

Broken into four equal parts, 25% percent each, this is the dramatic arc. It’s a natural progression that many writers do instinctually. If you want to check your work after the drafting stage, pantsers, the dramatic arc should look like this…

  • Setup (Page 1 – 25% mark): Introduce protagonist, hook the reader, setup First Plot Point through foreshadowing, stakes, and establish empathy (not necessarily likability) for the MC.
  • Response (25% – 50% mark): The MC’s reaction to the new goal/stakes/obstacles revealed by the First Plot Point. MC doesn’t need to be heroic yet. They retreat, regroup, and have doomed attempts at reaching their goal. Also include a reminder of antagonistic forces at work.
  • Attack (50% – 75% mark): Midpoint information/awareness causes the MC to change course in how to approach the obstacles; the hero is now empowered with information on how to proceed, not merely reacting anymore.
  • Resolution (75% – The End): MC summons the courage, inner strength, and growth to find a solution to overcome inner obstacles and conquer the antagonistic force. All new information must have been referenced, foreshadowed, or already in play by 2nd Plot Point or we’re guilty of deus ex machina.

Tom Turkey is beginning to take shape.

Characterization adds meat to his bones, and conflict-driven sub-plots supply tendons and ligaments. When we layer in dramatic tension in the form of a need, goal, quest, and challenges to overcome, Tom’s skin forms and thickens.

With obstacle after obstacle, and inner and outer conflict, Tom strengthens enough to sprout feathers. At the micro-level, MRUs (Motivation-Reaction-Units) — for every action there’s a reaction — establish our story rhythm and pace. They also help heighten and maintain suspense. If you remember every action has a reaction, MRUs come naturally to many writers. Still good to check on the first read through.

MRUs fluff Tom Turkey’s feathers. He even grew a beak!

Providing a vicarious experience, our emotions splashed across the page, makes Tom fan his tail-feathers. The rising stakes add to Tom’s glee (he’s a sadist), and he prances for a potential mate. He believes he’s ready to score with the ladies. Tom may actually get lucky this year.

Then again, we know better. Don’t we, dear writers? Poor Tom is still missing a few crucial elements to close the deal.

By structuring our scenes — don’t groan, pantsers! — Tom grew an impressive snood. See it dangling over his beak? The wattle under his chin needs help, though. Hens are shallow creatures. 😉 Quick! We need a narrative structure.

Narrative structure refers to the way in which a story is organized and presented to the reader. It includes the plot, subplot, characters, setting, and theme, as well as techniques and devices used by the author to convey these elements.

Now, Tom looks sharp. What an impressive bird. Watch him prance, full and fluffy, head held high, tail feathers fanned in perfect formation.

Uh-oh. Joe Hunter sets Tom in his rifle scope. We can’t let him die before he finds a mate! But how can we save him? We’ve already given him all the tools he needs, right?

Well, not quite.

Did we choose the right point of view to tell our story? If we didn’t, Tom could wind up on a holiday table surrounded by drooling humans in bibs. We can’t let that happen! Nor can we afford to lose the reader before we get a chance to dazzle ’em.

Tom needs extra oomph — aka Voice. Without it, Joe Hunter will murder poor Tom.

Voice is an elusive beast for new writers because it develops over time. To quote JSB:

It comes from knowing each character intimately and writing with the “voice” that is a combo of character and author and craft on the page.

That added oomph makes your story special. No one can write like you. No one. Remember that when self-doubt or imposter syndrome creeps in.

If Tom hopes to escape Joe Hunter’s bullet, he needs wings in the form of context. Did we veer outside readers’ expectations for the genre we’re writing in? Did we give Tom a heart and soul by subtly infusing theme? Can we boil down the plot to its core story, Tom’s innards? What about dialogue? Does Tom gobble or quack?

Have we shown the three dimensions of character to add oxygen to Tom’s lungs? You wouldn’t want to be responsible for suffocating Tom to death, would you?

  • 1st Dimension of Character: The best version of who they are; the face the character shows to the world
  • 2nd Dimension of Character:  The person a character shows to friends and family
  • 3rd Dimension of Character:  The character’s true character. If a fire breaks out in a crowded theater, will they help others or elbow their way to the exit?

Lastly, Tom needs a way to wow the ladies. Better make sure our prose sings. If we don’t, Tom might die of loneliness. Do we really want to be responsible for that? To be safe, let’s review our word choices, sentence variations, paragraphing, white space, grammar, and how we string words together to ensure Tom lives a full and fruitful life.

Don’t forget to rewrite and edit. If readers love Tom, he and his new mate may bring chicks (sequels or prequels) into the world, and we, as Tom’s creator, have the honor of helping them flourish into full-fledged turkeys.

Aww… Tom’s story has a happy ending now. Good job, writers!

For fun, choose a name for Tom’s mate. Winner gets bragging rights.

The Art of Misdirection

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“There are two ways to be fooled. One is to believe what isn’t true; the other is to refuse to believe what is true.” — Soren Kierkegaard

* * *

One of the most interesting aspects of mystery novels for me is the author’s ability to construct a story that leads the reader “down the garden path.” Then when the truth is revealed, the reader smacks him/herself on the side of the head in recognition that they picked the wrong person as the villain. They should have seen it coming.

When I told a friend of mine about my interest in constructing novels that use this technique of misdirection, she was astonished. “It sounds like you’re deliberately manipulating what the reader is thinking.”

“Right,” I said. “That’s the point. If the author can present information to the reader so they react to the scenes in the story in a predictable way, it will produce an entertaining and satisfying experience for the reader.”

My friend said she didn’t like the idea of being fooled, but I think she’s fooling herself.

At its heart, a mystery novel is a game, a challenge to the reader to see if they can put the puzzle together correctly. The reader has all the necessary information, but the author uses several devices to misguide the reader into putting their trust in the wrong characters or the wrong clues.

Foreshadowing, Clues, and Red Herrings

In his article in Writer’s Digest,  Robert McCaw put it well:

“Misdirection also requires subtlety. The reader will feel crassly manipulated if the surprise ending arrives without sufficient hints or foreshadowing. Ideally, good misdirection makes the reader look back at various telltale clues peppered throughout the story, hopefully leading them to admire the author’s skill in setting up and obscuring the ultimate surprise.”

Perhaps the cleverest red herring of all time was created by Agatha Christie in her novel And Then There Were None, in which ten people on a remote island are being killed off one by one in a way that mirrors the nursery rhyme Ten Soldier Boys. When they get down to three people left alive, one of them (Vera) says

“You’ve forgotten the nursery rhyme. Don’t you see there’s a clue there?” She recited in a meaning voice: “Four little Indian boys going out to sea; A red herring swallowed one and then there were three.” She went on: “A red herring—that’s the vital clue. Armstrong’s not dead… He took away the china Indian to make you think he was. You may say what you like—Armstrong’s on the island still. His disappearance is just a red herring across the track…”

A clue that references the very words “red herring” is clever. But it turns out the clue itself was a red herring. Now that was really clever.

The Unreliable Narrator

In a novelsuspects.com article, Emily Watson writes

The term “unreliable narrator” was introduced in 1961 by Wayne C. Booth in his book The Rhetoric of Fiction. Typically, for a narrator to be unreliable, the story needs to be presented by a first-person narrator. And since first-person accounts of stories and events are often flawed and biased, you could argue that all first-person narrators are by nature unreliable. But Booth explains that for a narrator to be unreliable, they must either misreport, misinterpret, misevaluate, underreport, under-interpret, or under-evaluate.

Once again Agatha Christie claims preeminence in misdirection with the unreliable narrator Dr. Sheppard in The Murder of Roger Ackroyd.

The False Ending

Robert McCaw also addressed the topic of false endings in his article in Writer’s Digest.

“Another of my favorite techniques is the false or penultimate ending. In this case, the narrative comes to a neat close. The protagonist solves the mysteries and identifies the culprit. There are no loose strings. The story is over, except it’s not. Instead, another chapter surprises the reader with a new and different take on the ending, often creating the opportunity to begin a new story, perhaps in another book.”

An example of this is the French film He Loves Me… He Loves Me Not directed by Laetitia Colombani. While not exactly a mystery, the movie’s unusual structure is a good example of misdirection, unreliable narration, and a false ending.

The movie was released in 2002 and starred Audrey Tautou, the actress who had previously been best known for her performance as the main character in the movie Amelie. Casting Tautou as Angelique in He Loves Me was a brilliant way to manipulate the viewers into immediately trusting the adorable girl.

In this movie, Angelique is an accomplished young artist in love with a married man, Dr. Loic Le Garrec (Samuel Le Bihan). The movie begins in a flower shop where Angelique is sending a pink rose to Le Garrec on his birthday, and it tracks the plot through scenes where Angelique appears to get closer and closer to her goal of breaking up Le Garrec’s marriage so the two of them can go off together.

Then something goes awry. Angelique realizes her plan has failed, and she decides to commit suicide. It seems this will be the sad end to a young woman’s life, but that’s the false ending. The movie is only at the halfway point.

As Angelique lies down on the floor in front of a gas stove, everything changes. It looks like the movie is rewinding in Fast Backward mode, and suddenly we’re all the way back to the beginning at the flower shop.

But this time, the movie presents the actual events, not just Angelique’s fantasy, and the viewer comes to understand Angelique was suffering from a mental illness called “erotomania.” The first half of the movie showed only a partial truth, but one that convinced the viewer of a lie.

In the actual ending, Angelique has survived her suicide attempt and is incarcerated in a mental institution. The final end of the movie is yet another false ending that I won’t spoil for you.

* * *

So, there you have it. Red herrings, unreliable narrators, and false endings. All devices to trick the reader into enjoying a wonderful story.

“Seldom, very seldom, does complete truth belong to any human disclosure; seldom can it happen that something is not a little disguised or a little mistaken.”
― Jane Austen, Emma

* * *

So TKZers: There are many ways to lead the reader astray. Have you been fooled by misdirection? Have you used misdirection in your books? What books or movies would you recommend that gleefully mislead the audience?

* * *

Was it a clue to murder? Or just a small child’s fanciful note? Private pilot Cassie Deakin must find her way through the labyrinth to solve the puzzle.

Available at  Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Google Play, or Apple Books.

Finishing Strong with Aspects of the Novel

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“Everything ends; you just have to figure out a way to push to the finish line.” —Jesse Itzler

* * *

Welcome back, TKZers! Isn’t it wonderful to be back in the Zone after the two-week break?

Now that we’re approaching the finish line for 2024, it’s time to look back at lessons learned in the past year. In addition to the great content posted here, TKZ contributors lent their voices to other platforms. One of those was The Craft of Writing Blog on my website at kaydibianca.com.

The theme of this year’s blog was Aspects of the Novel, and each month I interviewed an accomplished author on a different facet of novel writing. Five of those authors are TKZ contributors whose thoughts were so instructive, I wanted to share an excerpt from each interview in this post.

So enjoy finishing the year strong by walking with our wise friends through various Aspects of the Novel. To see the entire interview for any of the choices below, click on the link.

* * *

VOICE (James Scott Bell)

How does an author go about developing his/her own voice?

It’s really a matter of learning ways to let the voice run free. Let it come out naturally as you, the author, are concentrating on the emotion and action and internal lives of the characters. There are various exercises I give in my book on voice, such as the page-long sentence. When I come to a place of high emotion in a scene, I like to start a fresh document and write a single, run-on sentence of at least 200 words. It is free-form, wild text in the character’s voice, not thinking about grammar or structure. It’s just pouring out the emotion as fast and intensely as possible.

What happens inevitably, like panning for gold, is you get a few glistening nuggets. It may even be only one sentence, but that sentence will be choice.

There are other methods, but the great point is that doing this begins to develop a strong “voice muscle” in your writer’s brain, and you get better and better at it the more you exercise it.

 

ANTAGONISTS (Debbie Burke)

How does a good writer approach creating the antagonist character? Are there exercises a writer can use to develop their villain-creating talents?

A technique I like to use is James Scott Bell’s voice journal. Let the antagonist write out their thoughts, feelings, and beliefs. What are their deepest, most secret desires? Give them the opportunity to express their frustration, anger, and hatred. Putting their emotions into words helps the author get inside their skin and understand why they feel their behavior is justified.

Interview the villain/antagonist. Ask questions. What is their background? How did their parents treat them? Were they bullied or abused? What early losses or failures scarred them?

Another Jim Bell tip: have villains argue their case before the jury that will decide their fate. What compelling arguments can they offer to save themselves from the death penalty?

 

DEEP POINT OF VIEW (Terry Odell)

Now, on to Deep POV:

Deep POV can be thought of as writing a first person book in third person. You are deep inside the POV character’s head, providing the reader with not only the character’s five senses, but also their thoughts and feelings. Because you’re deep into their heads, your readers should feel closer to the characters than if you have an outside narrator, as is the case in shallower third person POV. A test. You should be able to replace he, she, or the character’s name with “I.”

When writing in Deep POV, it’s also important to be true to the character. What would they notice? Two characters walk into a room. (No, that’s not the start of a joke.) One’s a cop; the other is an interior designer. They’ll focus on very different things.

 

ANTI-HEROES (Sue Coletta)

How do you define an anti-hero?

An anti-hero is the protagonist of the story, who straddles the law. Good people doing bad things for the right reason. Nothing is black and white. Anti-heroes thrive in shades in gray.

 

DESCRIPTION (P.J. Parrish)

How would you define descriptive writing?

Wow. That’s a toughie. Well, let’s start with a distinction. There’s explanation and then there’s description. Explanation is you, the writer, just dealing with the prosaic stuff of moving characters around in time and space. Explanation example: The man walked into the room. Simple choregraphy. Gets the job done but pushes no emotional buttons.

But description? That’s where the magic happens. When you work your descriptive powers, you engage the reader’s senses and imagination, maybe tugging on their memories and experiences. The man didn’t just walk into the room.  Rewrite:

The old man stopped just inside the door of the café. He was in his eighties, that much was clear. But as he stood there, erect and with a small smile tipping his lips, heads turned to him. It wasn’t just the panama hat or the seersucker suit. Because the hat was yellowed and his sleeves were frayed. No, we were staring at him because the air around him seemed to vibrate with an aliveness. He caught my eye and started toward me, and my throat closed. It was like looking at my father, the one I had seen only in photographs.

See the difference? The main purpose of descriptive writing is to show the reader a person, place or thing in such a way that a picture is formed in their mind. It means paying close attention to the details by using all of your five senses. Explanation vs description. When you explain something, you try to make it clearer and easier to understand. But when you describe, you’re tugging on their emotions.

 

* * *

As we come to the end of the year, I want to wish you all a Happy, Healthy, and Successful New Year!

* * *

So TKZers: How are you finishing strong in 2024? Any lessons learned you can share? What are you looking forward to in 2025?

 

“A delicious murder mystery” —Readers’ Favorite Reviews

Available at  Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Google Play, or Apple Books.

What is Your Character’s Wounding Event?

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Characters need personal growth to achieve their goals. If the character seeks to improve themselves in some way — at work, in relationships, or spiritually — or defeat the villain, their fatal flaw will often sabotage early efforts.

Who they are and what they want is at odds with their fatal flaw, which makes it almost impossible to succeed. The character might not even realize they have this flaw until a situation, experience, or event triggers a tsunami of inner turmoil.

Fatal Flaw Defined

A fatal flaw refers to a character trait that leads to their downfall. The term fatal flaw implies the character is heroic and admirable in many other ways. Even the fatal flaw itself could be considered admirable in a different situation but it hinders them in the storyline.

The TKZ archive has several articles about character flaws (here, here, and here, to name a few).

But where does their fatal flaw stem from?

Often, the past is to blame. It doesn’t necessarily need to be from the character’s childhood, though it can be. Was the character abandoned as a child, emotionally, physically, or both? If so, they’d deal with abandonment and/or trust issues as an adult. Or perhaps, their fatal flaw stems from the opening scene in the novel.

What happened to the character to create the inner turmoil within them? We call this the “wounding event,” and it’s crucial to understand the character on an emotional level.

Many factors play a role in determining who we — and our characters — become in life, including environment, mentors/teachers, parents, genetics, and how they were raised. Life is filled with flawed people, all battling their own demons, some more than others. Specific events and long-term exposure to unhealthy ideals, behaviors, and relationships all play a role in shaping a human or fictional character.

The Wounding Event

The most crippling is emotional trauma. Unresolved pain — the wounding event — should impact the character’s life. This defining emotional experience from a character’s past is so debilitating they’ll do anything to avoid that pain again. It colors how they view the world and alters what they believe about themselves and others. The trauma instills a deep fear that it may happen again if the character doesn’t protect themselves.

Or perhaps, your character has a physical defect with long-lasting psychological effects, such as a crippling illness, birth defect, scarring, or disfigurement. The mistaken belief that the character must harden themselves to feel emotionally safe is what allows negative traits to emerge.

The wounding event creates a core belief or insecurity that manifests as a character flaw, causing them to act defensively or in self-sabotaging ways to avoid reliving the pain. The wounding event also refers to a traumatic experience that significantly impacts the character’s psychology and development, or a set of deeply ingrained fears that shape how they interact with the world. It’s the pivotal moment that created the underlying emotional wound that drives their behavior.

Whatever wounding event you choose when crafting a character, it should be hinted at or shown on the page. This will help the reader relate to, and empathize with, the character. It’ll also explain their actions.

At some point in the novel, the character must face their fears — an important scene in the character arc is about confronting and healing from their wounding event.

The ideal placement is about the midpoint. This confrontation within themselves gives the character the inner strength to overcome their fatal flaw and spins the story in a new direction, with a clearer perspective on how to proceed. Or they figure out how to use their fatal flaw to their advantage “through a vein of moral rightness,” as JSB said in an article about character.

Sounds a lot like the mirror moment, doesn’t it? 😉

Secondary flaws can also arise from the wounding event, which will compromise the character’s path and prevent them from reaching their full potential.

Wounds are powerful. Taking the time to probe your character’s past to unearth their wounding event will help you — and the reader — better understand what motivates them and their behavior.

For discussion, what fictional wounding event has stuck with you? To avoid spoilers, only include the title if the wounding event occurs early in the novel.

Or tell us about your character’s wounding event and the fatal flaw that followed.

New Crow Saga and Writing Tips

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For the past three weeks, a baby red-tailed hawk — let’s call him “Red” — visits every morning after I feed Poe (crow) and family, Navi (squirrel) and family, Hip (chippie) and family, and Meep (blue jay) and family.

Red came here for one reason, and one reason only — revenge for killing his mother.

Crows and hawks are mortal enemies. But crows are so intelligent and protective of their territory, they are usually the aggressors. Self-preservation at its finest. In battle, it’s safer to stay on offense than defense.

Red was smaller than a full-grown American Crow — fledglings usually are — but that didn’t stop him from trying to attack Poe. Every time Poe flew from tree to tree, the hawk followed.

As Poe slalomed through the trees with Red inches from her tail-feathers, my heart stalled.

Fun fact: A crow’s tail-feathers detach without pain, allowing them to break free from a predator.

It struck me as odd that Poe didn’t retaliate. Not once! I couldn’t figure out why. Did she feel bad about killing Red’s mother? Nah. That didn’t make sense. Poe protected her family. An adult red-tailed hawk will kill a crow fledgling, if they can catch ’em.

Captivated by the aerial pursuits for almost two solid hours, I got the feeling Poe was amused by Red’s antics. Cute little guy trying to act like a big shot. She purposefully flew in front of Red to wind him up. I swear she enjoyed tormenting him. Poe’s such a rascal. To me, it felt more like a game of Russian roulette. But hey, I’m not an expert aerialist like her. Crows can outmaneuver most birds. Hence why they’re so successful as a species.

When Red got too aggressive, Poe let out an alarm call. Within seconds, her murder soared in.

All sixteen crows surrounded Red in neighboring trees. The little guy didn’t stand a chance. Hawkeyed 😉 on Poe, he also refused to leave.

Vendettas… they can warp one’s sense of reality.

Hours bled into days. Every morning, I gaped, panic risen in my chest but helpless to do anything about it. Though I’m Team Crow, I kinda felt bad for Red. An emotional rollercoaster of my own creation because of a similar experience.

Two years ago, this enormous sharp-shinned hawk targeted Poe’s family, and I watched in awe as the murder gathered with military precision. Poe and Edgar stomped on one wing, Allan and Thoreau lifted the other, and they barrel rolled this monstrous bird till she spiraled to her death.

I jolted to my feet and cheered.

The happy buzz didn’t last long.

The sharp-shinned hawk had a new fledgling, who must’ve been hiding in the trees. This little dude flew to the asphalt and attempted to drag his mom off the road before the crows could feast.

Tears flooded my eyes. Even the murder stopped, quieted, and bowed their heads.

Sure, they protected their family, but corvids are empathetic beings. They feel a lot more than humans give them credit for.

In the last decade or so with Poe, I’ve witnessed a wide range of emotions, from the depths of despair from losing one of their own to unadulterated excitement and joy, and the beautiful bonds of love shared between lifelong mates. I was also present when Allan tried to woo a female, and felt the sting of rejection when she flew off with a different suitor. Poor baby sulked in my yard for days.

Another hawk hadn’t died in my presence till the red-tailed mother targeted Poe’s fledglings a few weeks ago. And again, the baby hawk (now known as Red) hid among the safety of the woods and watched his mother fall to her death.

For those who may judge Poe for her actions, lest we not forget natural selection — only the strong survive.

If a predator entered your home, would you kill to protect your family? In my state, it’s legal to do so.

On the holiday weekend, I had plans to drive to the seacoast on Friday. I hated to leave, but what could I do? Still, everything within me warned me not to go.

Would Poe be all right when I returned on Tuesday? The question whirled on an endless loop for the 2.5 hour drive south, reappeared during quiet moments, and returned with a vengeance for the entire ride home.

The moment I stepped out the driver’s door, Poe cawed from the tree beside me. I could breathe again. The next morning, I’d barely stepped inside my sunroom/office after feeding my furred and feathered family when Red barreled across the yard after my beloved Poe. Only now, Red’s chest had filled out. He still stood shorter than Poe but not by much.

Once again, Poe refused to retaliate. The murder surrounded Red like before, but it didn’t faze him. In two weeks, he’d packed on the pounds by feeding on chipmunks, jays, cardinals, mourning doves, and any other little bird or critter he could catch.

Today, Red matches Poe wing to wing, head to tail. Edgar, Allan, and Thoreau still outweigh him but not for long. Red’s transforming into a dangerous predator who’s hellbent on punishing Poe.

While writing this story, I stopped three times when the aerial fights heated up. Think Poe will give the call to retaliate? Still no. And it’s killing me! What is she waiting for?

None of the crows seem all that bothered by Red. Maybe he’s not big enough yet to be considered an actual threat? No idea. All I know is, if this feud doesn’t end soon, I may need a cardiologist.

On Friday (Nov. 1), I’m heading out of town to go house-hunting. By the time I return, Red will be even bigger. It’s like Poe’s waiting for a worthy opponent to emerge. Let’s hope she doesn’t wait too long. Red has the heart of a lion, the drive of a cheetah, and the attitude of a hippo king.

Sorry to say, the saga continues… I’ll fill you in once I have an ending.

As writers, what can we learn from this story?

  1. The hero needs a worthy opponent. Otherwise, they’re playing a foolish game.
  2. Every motivation has a reaction. To see this in action, read this story about Poe and a sweet raven named Rave. The corvid saga concludes with a fun way to test your story with color.
  3. Stories need conflict and obstacles. Don’t let anyone achieve their goals easily.
  4. Face your fears, dear writer. Don’t avoid the blank page because you suffer from imposter syndrome or fear failure. No one can edit a blank page. If you’re having trouble or feel blocked, do writer sprints or free write, as JSB advised a time or two.
  5. White space is your friend. Don’t overwhelm the reader with long blocks of text. Test paragraphing on your Kindle, tablet, or e-reader app.
  6. Don’t end your story with a cliffhanger. I had no choice, but in fiction, we need a believable ending.
  7. Like the POV character, the villain must want something. What drives each of them?
  • I want peace.
  • Poe wants to protect her family.
  • Red wants revenge.

I think that about covers it. Did I miss an obvious writing lesson?