The Backwards Law for Writers

I stumbled across the subject of The Backwards Law by accident—a happy accident that led me to The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck. Excellent book that I devoured in two sittings.

The Backwards Law proposes the more we pursue something, the less satisfied we become. For writers, the constant pursuit of “more” causes us to feel horrible about where we are and what we’ve achieved. The harder we try, the less likely we are to succeed.

On the surface, it seems like the opposite of perseverance, doesn’t it? But it’s not. The Backwards Law goes much deeper than that.

Think of it this way:

  • Trying too hard to be creative or write something brilliant often leads to writer’s block, self-doubt, and a feeling of being disconnected from the work.
  • Only focusing on the end result—recognition, success, publication—causes unnecessary anxiety and pressure.
  • The fear of making mistakes or writing poorly will paralyze a writer and often will lead to abandoning the WIP.

“Wanting a positive experience is a negative experience; accepting a negative experience is a positive experience.” Mark Manson – The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck.

Alan Watts, the philosopher who coined the phrase, describes The Backwards Law as being in a lake. If you relax and put your head back, you’ll float. But the more you struggle and flail to try to stay afloat, the more you will sink.

Often our search for “more” has the opposite effect. It shines a spotlight on what we lack.

Life Examples

  • The more we cling to a loved one, the more they will feel suffocated and in need of space.
  • The more we obsess about accumulating money, the more poor and unworthy we will feel.
  • The more we pursue trying to feel happier all the time, the more we will reinforce this idea that we are fundamentally lacking and irreparable.

Do you even know what you want?

Sure, selling millions of copies of your book sounds great, but is that why you wrote it? Or maybe, you can’t define what you’re chasing. You just want more.

“Two reasons that you don’t really know what you want. Number one: you have it. Number two: you don’t know yourself, because you never can. The Godhead is never an object of its own knowledge, just as a knife doesn’t cut itself, fire doesn’t burn itself, light doesn’t illuminate itself.” ~ Alan Watts

In The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck, Mark Manson tells the story of a talented young guitarist who was kicked out of his band in 1983, after they had just been signed by a record label. No warning. No reason given. No discussion. They woke him up and handed him a bus ticket.

After much self-pity on the ride home to LA, the guitarist vowed to start a new group that would be so successful, his old band would seethe with jealously. And so, with only that thought in mind, he worked tirelessly to find the best musicians. He wrote dozens of songs. Practiced day and night. Revenge became his muse.

Within two years, a record label signed his new band. One year later, their first record went gold. The guitarist’s name? Dave Mustaine, lead guitarist in the heavy metal band Megadeath, which went on to sell over 25 million albums and tour the world many times. Mustaine is considered one of the most influential musicians in the history of heavy metal music.

Sounds like the story has a happy ending, right?

Not quite.

The band who kicked him out was Metallica, which has sold over 180 million albums worldwide and is considered by many to be one of the greatest rock bands of all time.

Because of Metallica’s fame, Mustaine considered himself a failure. Despite all he’d accomplished, in his mind, he would always be the guy who got kicked out of Metallica and nothing more. Whether he realized it or not, Mustaine used Metallica’s success and popularity as his life-defining measuring stick. Even after all of Megadeath’s success, he could never be happy, because he based his self-worth and music career on something he had no control over.

This story perfectly illustrates The Backwards Law in action.

Accept imperfection and you’ll feel perfect. Accept loneliness and you’ll feel content alone. Accepting a negative experience is a positive experience. But fighting a negative experience means you’ll suffer twice.

  • When we stop trying to be happy, we’ll be happy because there’s nothing we need beyond what is.
  • When we stop trying to be rich or massively successful, we’ll live in abundance because we’re content with what we have and anything on top of that is a bonus.

Thus, the only way to have what we want is not to want it. And that’s what The Backwards Law teaches us.

Being aware of the workings of The Backwards Law doesn’t mean that we should never set goals, never have ambitions, or never chase our dreams. Rather, The Backwards Law teaches us not to be fooled by the idea that the pursuit of happiness (whatever that looks like to you) leads to happiness. When in fact, the opposite is true. And with that knowledge, we’re able to enter the blissful state of enjoying the journey.

“The mystery of life is not a problem to be solved but a reality to be experienced.” ~ Alan Watts

How do we get what we want without trying?

Depends on what we want. If we strive to write the best damn book we can, the following tips should help.

Mindful Writing: Practice mindfulness while writing. It’ll help you become more aware of your thoughts and feelings without judgment, allowing you to be more present in the moment.

Step Away: It’s okay to step away from the WIP to clear your head. Go for a walk. Take a shower. Read a book. Exercise. I do this all the time when I’m working out a plot issue. Nine times out of ten, the answer reveals itself as soon as I stop thinking about it.

Accept Imperfection: Give yourself permission to make mistakes in early drafts. It’ll allow you to experiment and explore different ideas without fear.

Stay Present: Enjoy the journey of bringing your idea to life. Have fun with your characters. Revel in that perfect sentence or paragraph you wrote yesterday, then continue on.

The Backwards Law for writers is about shifting from a place of striving and pressure to a place of flow and acceptance. 

By letting go of the need to control the outcome and embrace the process, we’ll unlock creativity and produce more authentic and fulfilling work.

Have you heard of The Backwards Law? It’s as true for writing as it is for life.

Compromises

Compromises
Terry Odell

cover of The Triple-D Ranch novels by Terry OdellFirst, if you’ll indulge me, I have a new release. Not exactly a new book, but after being away, having family visiting, writing breaks to do research, hitting the 30K wall, and other real life interruptions, I feared the wip wasn’t going to be finished in time for a pre-holiday release.

What did I do? Triggered by an acceptance for a BookBub Featured Deal on July 9th for In Hot Water, book 1 in my Triple-D Ranch Romantic Suspense series, I decided to bundle all 4 books in the series as a box set.

I checked with the marketing gurus at BookBub, and they suggested that a release of the bundle before the featured deal would be a good option. I pulled the manuscripts for all four books into a single file and made the necessary adjustments to front and back matter. Since the first 3 in the series were released in 2016, there were some formatting issues to deal with, but it didn’t take long to have a manuscript file ready to upload.

I went into a lot of the process in a post a while back, so I’m not going to repeat any of that now. If you’re interested, you can find it here.

The new book, brilliantly titled, The Triple-D Ranch Series is available for purchase at most popular e-tailers. Here’s a link to one-stop shopping.

And on to the post topic: Compromises

Sue’s post on Monday reminded me of our move from Florida to Colorado way back in 2010. Although this is no longer my path to publication, I know a lot of TKZers are, or are hoping to be, traditionally published. The road to publication, like moving into a new house, can be filled with compromises.

During our renovations and remodels, we found ourselves compromising on a lot of issues. Sometimes it was a matter of money—deciding what things we were willing to cut from our dream plan, and where we were willing to shell out the extra cash. We decided to go with underfloor heating in the bathrooms. However, a custom job, with the heat mat made to order for the bathroom was prohibitively costly compared with the off-the-shelf versions. The compromise meant we were restricted to the sizes the mats came in; we couldn’t get the heat mat under the tile of the entire bathroom, leaving a few areas where the tiles remain cold. But having that extra course of tiles heated wasn’t worth the price differential. It was easier to learn to take a bigger step into the hall bath if you were barefoot, avoiding the first row of tiles.

Another compromise – we had a lot more room in our former house. Finding places for things that went into our wall units and china cabinet meant more furniture. We ended up with a large curio cabinet in the living area. However, it doesn’t have any interior lighting, so as far as displaying treasures goes, it’s not really the perfect system. It ended up being a liquor and glassware cabinet.

We ordered two bookcases for the downstairs, but when they arrived, we realized that one was a shade too tall for where we wanted to put it. (Never thought about the bulkhead ceiling on that side of the room, or how tall the bookcases would be.) So, we found another spot for the second unit, which ate up several feet of wall space, meaning when we get furniture for the room, we’re going to be limited in what will fit where.

When writing, you’ll also learn to make compromises—unless, of course, you’re writing strictly for yourself. Everyone says ‘write the book of your heart.’ But if you want people to read your books, you’re going to have to consider what the readers want. The book of your heart might not be marketable.

Somewhere along the line, you have to decide which battles are worth fighting and which aren’t. Some, you’ll never win. If a publisher wants humor, and you’re not a funny person, maybe that’s the time to realize that your efforts might be better spent elsewhere. Or maybe they want deep, dark suspense, full of serial killers and psychopaths, and you prefer lighthearted mystery. Are you capable of writing what they want? Will you feel like you’re struggling to get each word on the page? Assuming you’ve done your homework and submitted your work to a publisher who publishes what you write, and it’s accepted, what’s next? You’re going to have to deal with an editor who works for the publisher, and knows what they’re looking (or not looking) for.

For example, my editor for When Danger Calls, one of my early traditionally published novels, told me the publisher would nix any use of the word ‘penis.’ She said their readers didn’t like to read it. Was there a point to arguing with this one? No. Easy enough to change.

Another publisher didn’t like the use of brand names. Sometimes, a brand name serves as an immediate image for readers. I had to fight (and contact the companies) to use Knob Creek and Denny’s in a book.

On a grander scale, some genres have their own reader expectations and publishers have their own guidelines.

Once you’re aware of what your publisher and editor expect, you’ll find that you’re compromising with yourself during the writing process. Just like you learn to avoid that first course of tiles in the bathroom, you won’t use those ‘forbidden’ words. If you’re writing a contemporary series romance, you’ll learn to get your hero and heroine on the page and involved immediately, because that’s what readers of that genre want, and the publisher expects you to meet their expectations. If you’re writing a mystery, your readers will assume it’s a “murder mystery” and they’ll want to see that dead body right away.

Even indie authors might have to compromise to meet reader expectations. I’ve written almost 35K words in my next Mapleton mystery, and there’s no dead body. Yet.

How about you, TKZers? Have you had to compromise to keep your submission or book marketable?


New! Find me at Substack with Writings and Wanderings

Danger Abroad

When breaking family ties is the only option.

Madison Westfield has information that could short-circuit her politician father’s campaign for governor. But he’s family. Although he was a father more in word than deed, she changes her identity and leaves the country rather than blow the whistle.

Blackthorne, Inc. taps Security and Investigations staffer, Logan Bolt, to track down Madison Westfield. When he finds her in the Faroe Islands, her story doesn’t match the one her father told Blackthorne. The investigation assignment quickly switches to personal protection for Madison.

Soon, they’re involved with a drug ring and a kidnapping attempt. Will working together put them in more danger? Can a budding relationship survive the dangers they encounter? Available now.

Like bang for your buck? I have a new Triple-D Ranch bundle. All four novels for one low price. One stop shopping here.


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

Moving and Writing

Life is like riding a bicycle. To keep your balance, you must keep moving. —Albert Einstein

* * *

I’ve mentioned over the past few weeks that my husband and I have moved to a new home. It’s been a long, hard effort, but now we’re in the new place and trying to regain some sense of normalcy.

One thing getting back to normal means is writing a post for TKZ. So now, I sit at my desk, surrounded by towers of boxes and ponder what I should write about while the aroma of fresh cardboard and packing tape wafts through the house. Since I do so love analogies about writing, there’s my subject: How are moving and writing related.

The Big Adventure

Moving starts as an adventure. Maybe it’s a new job or a better living situation or some other reason to change addresses. There’s a lot of anticipation mixed with a little anxiety. Lists are made, forms are ordered, lots of organization is put in place. Whatever the reason, the excitement builds as moving day nears.

Same with a new novel. A great idea suddenly crystallizes and you realize you have a theme for a new book. The best yet. You begin to draft out character sketches and a general plot line. You set up Scrivener for the new work and put together a project plan with a schedule. You stand at the mountaintop looking over the landscape and imagine the journey ahead.

The Trek Goes On … and On

If you’re lucky, you’ll hire a moving company to pack and move everything. But what’s the adventure in that? To keep the analogy with writing, you’ll have to do your own packing. You go through the house and decide what can be given away, sold, or stored. You order packing materials and spend weeks knee deep in boxes, bubble wrap, and permanent markers. But it’s taking longer than you thought, and the whole task of packing boxes has become hard work. You have to decide what to keep and what to let go. At some point, you ask yourself “Whose idea was this, anyway?”

Writing is a little less physically demanding. Day after day, you pack Scrivener with new scenes, and your creativity is firing on all cylinders. Finally, you’re deep into the story. Then you hit a wall, and you back up to look at what you’ve accomplished so far. It’s just a mess, and you have to decide what to throw away. You can keep everything, but then your new story will be a jumble of scenes rather than a carefully crafted book, so a serious pruning job is in order.

Persistence Pays Off

That’s when it hits you. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all. But you’ve already invested heavily in the story or the move, so you keep going forward. Not quite as excited, but shoulder to the wheel. The message in your head is no longer “Woo-hoo,” but more like “Put one foot in front of the other.”

It seems like ages before those boxes are all packed or the chapters are written. The movers come and transfer all the furniture to the new place. You have a fully finished first draft. It still doesn’t look so pretty, but at least you’re beginning to see the story behind the jumble.

Revision

So now you move into unpacking mode, putting things where they belong, discarding boxes, and cleaning up. In a novel, this would be the final draft. Rearranging the chapters and rewriting.

The work is long and sometimes boring. But occasionally you’ll stumble onto some little artifact that makes you realize how nice the finished product will be. It takes forever to unpack, fit things into their new environment, and get the household in order.

Slowly, day by day, the pieces begin to fit together to form a cohesive whole. The house is set, the novel is written, and the job is done.

The End … for now

It’s time to sip champagne, take a short rest, and then get to work on marketing.

* * *

So TKZers: How do you deal with the confusion that surrounds moving or writing? Do you keep plugging away knowing everything will come out well? How do you celebrate when the big move or book release is over?

* * *

 

Spunky 10-year-old Reen and her shy, 9-year-old cousin Joanie never stop moving while they hunt for a treasure left by the mysterious Mr. Shadow. Along the way, they learn the value of persistence, teamwork, and fair play.

Click the image to go to the Amazon book page.

 

When Is It Their Turn?

When Is It Their Turn?
Terry Odell

red curtain with a man's hand reaching throughSecondary characters, as PJ pointed out in her post, can be great fun to write. They don’t have the responsibilities of the protagonists. They can provide insight into the protagonist, add some humor, be sounding boards, love interests, or foils.

Sometimes, they branch out and become protagonists themselves. John Sandford gave Virgil Flowers his own stories. Robert Crais gave Joe Pike his own books. Will CJ Box’s Nate Romanowski move from strong secondary character into a protagonist in his own right?

In television, branching out into new shows happens all the time. Michael Connelly gave Renee Ballard her own books, and soon her own television series. Lee Child’s Reacher television series has a Neagley spinoff.

The rise of secondary characters is prevalent in romance, where “series” (I call them connected books) tend to have an ensemble cast in which a secondary character moves up to center stage in a subsequent book. I do that in my romantic suspense books, although when I wrote When Danger Calls, my first Blackthorne, Inc. book, I had no idea there would be another one. That series now contains twelve books, and a lot of secondary characters have had their turn at taking the lead. How do I decide whose turn it is? Often, I’m having fun with that character and want to do more. But sometimes, the character shows up and requests a bigger role. That’s what happened with Jinx, who became the lead in Dangerous Connections.

cover image of Dangerous Connections by Terry Odell

Here’s what happened.

Jess, my admin buzzes me.

“Terry, there’s someone here who insists on seeing you. Says his name is Josiah Nix.”

Jinx? What’s he doing here? “Tell him to have a seat, and I’ll see him shortly.”

Shortly—the most vague word in the English language. But it’ll buy me some time. I open my computer and pull up the files for my Blackthorne, Inc. series. After a quick review—somehow, once I finish writing a book, it’s gone from my head as soon as I start work on the next one—I feel ready to meet Jinx.

I buzz Jess. “Send him in.”

The door opens, and Josiah Ignatius Nix—which I’d shorted to Jinx for the books—enters. He’s not quite the same man I interviewed for his initial role in Where Danger Hides. Same not-quite-six-feet tall. His shoulder-length hair is pulled back into a tail at the nape of his neck. Same deep blue eyes and lashes to die for. But he’s hesitant, not curious the way he was at that first meet, which was quite some time and several books ago.

“Have a seat, Mr. Nix.”

“Jinx will do. I’m used to it now.”

He sits on the small sofa, as if he’s afraid taking a visitor chair would put him too close to me. One foot bounces, almost imperceptibly. Nervous?

“What brings you here today?” I ask.

He tugs at his ponytail. “Wasn’t completely my idea.”

This isn’t the behavior of a man in charge of Blackthorne’s command center.

“Who else?”

Another ponytail tug. The foot bouncing becomes more noticeable. “The guys, mostly. Harper. Dalton. Fozzie.”

“Can I get you something to drink? I’d offer a Red Bull, but from where I’m sitting, it doesn’t look like you need caffeine. I have coffee—decaf. And herbal teas.”

I open my drawer, check my snack stash. Down to a couple packets of cashews and almonds.

“I’m all right,” Jinx says.

I look at the clock. Just shy of three. “I generally have a break around this time, so it’s no trouble.” I flash my best reassuring smile, then buzz Jess and, voice lowered, ask her for the usual job interview refreshment tray.

“So,” I go on. “You’re still in touch with some of the Blackthorne team?”

“Sort of. Molly—that’s Harper’s kid. Actually, she’s Frankie’s kid, but Harper considers her his own. It was her birthday, and they invited me—us. Harper had a few things to say to me, and so I’m here.”

Jinx definitely wasn’t behaving the way I’d written him. Where was the always on top of things, always in control character I’d created?

Jess opens the door and comes in carrying a tray of assorted munchies. Cheese, crackers, cookies, nuts, and fruit, along with cocktail napkins. Do I detect a show of interest in Jinx?

“Help yourself.” To break the ice, I take a napkin, a piece of cheese and layer it on a cracker, along with a small bunch of grapes.

“Thanks.” He chooses an assortment of offerings. “Maybe a cup of decaf?”

“Coming right up.” I pop a pod into my brewer and start things going. Once we’ve had a few moments of more routine behavior, Jinx seems relaxed.

He sets his coffee cup on the end table and inhales a deep breath. “I like my job. I’m good at it. But I’m ready for … more.” He meets my gaze. “If that’s possible.”

Now we’re getting somewhere. “What do you mean by more?”

“I’m not complaining, don’t get me wrong. I mean after Where Danger Hides, you really increased my parts in the next books, and my parts were important. But—”

I wait. He doesn’t seem willing to go on. “What’s the but?”

“I’m always behind the scenes. Nobody ever sees me. And—” he lowers his gaze to a point between his feet. “And I want what the others got. A woman.” The word is barely audible.

“Someone they’re happy with. I want that, too. I mean, except for Harper, because it was the first book, the others start out in the background. I don’t know what you call them.”

“Secondary characters,” I offer.

“Right. And then, they get their own story, and they get their woman. I don’t want to keep being a secondary character.”

“I understand.” And I do. Seeing his book friends living their happily ever afters would make him—anyone—want the same thing.

“Are you saying you want to be part of an op? On the ground, so to speak, not at the command center.”

He nods. “Zeke’s good at the command center. The teams could manage with him at the helm for an op.”

I’m remembering an article I saw on the internet a week or two ago. I saved it, thinking there might be a story there. I hadn’t considered Jinx for the lead, but I could make it work.

“Are you willing to travel?” I ask. “Solo? Undercover, at least at first. Of course, if it’s a Blackthorne book, your team will have your six.”

“I think so. Would I still be using my intel skills?”

“Of course.”

Ideals swirl.

I’m already planning. Jinx isn’t a covert operative. Will he be willing to accept a partner—female—who would be more than an equal?

“Can you come back, let’s say in two weeks, and we can go over a story premise?”

He smiles, the first sign of the Jinx I remember. “I’ll be here.” He grabs a cookie and heads for the door.

After he’s gone, I go back to that article that caught my eye. Communication. Drug cartels. Mexico. All I need are some more characters. I’ve got one in mind for Jinx. He’s going to love her.

cover image of Dangerous Connections by Terry Odell

Okay, so it doesn’t always happen like that, but every once in a while, you—or I, anyway—need some fun.

Feel free to share other secondary characters that have moved up to protagonists.


New! Find me at Substack with Writings and Wanderings

Danger Abroad

When breaking family ties is the only option.

Madison Westfield has information that could short-circuit her politician father’s campaign for governor. But he’s family. Although he was a father more in word than deed, she changes her identity and leaves the country rather than blow the whistle.

Blackthorne, Inc. taps Security and Investigations staffer, Logan Bolt, to track down Madison Westfield. When he finds her in the Faroe Islands, her story doesn’t match the one her father told Blackthorne. The investigation assignment quickly switches to personal protection for Madison.

Soon, they’re involved with a drug ring and a kidnapping attempt. Will working together put them in more danger? Can a budding relationship survive the dangers they encounter?

Available now.


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

Dual Protagonists

Dual Protagonists

Terry Odell

two knights with swords facing each other

PJ Parrish did a wonderful post not long ago about secondary characters, and in response to one of the comments, she said “Someone here should do a post about dual protagonists.” Well, here I am, and I’m going to give it a shot.

Early in my writing endeavors, I was talking to another newbie, and he asked about the protagonist in my manuscript. I told him there were two, and he said, “no, your main protagonist.” As I tried to explain that the two characters were on equal footing, and they each had their own arcs, and then there was the addition of a mystery plot, he rolled his eyes, mumbled something, and walked away.

Although I thought I was writing a mystery when I played with creating something resembling a novel, my daughters pointed out it was a romance. I’d never read one, so I didn’t know how I could be writing one. But, apparently I was. Then I discovered romantic suspense, which was closer. Since I was always reading mysteries where the protagonists had lives outside solving their cases, it wasn’t too much of a stretch.

For the record, anyone who thinks that when they have a free weekend, they’re going to crank out a quick romance and make a bunch of bucks—think again.

In a romantic suspense, you’re juggling three stories. The hero and heroine each have their own character arcs, and there’s the mystery plot as well. If you’re writing a straight mystery with dual protagonists, you don’t have to deal with the pesky relationship culminating in at least the promise of a Happily Ever After. But each protagonist has to be developed in the same way you’d develop a single protagonist.

Given my stumbling into romance, I learned from Deb Dixon and her Goal, Motivation, Conflict approach. What does each protagonist want? Why do they want it? What’s standing in their way?

Then, throw in how they’re going to have to work together in the book. Are they working to solve the same crime? Are they in competition? What’s in it for each of them? A reward? Bringing someone to justice? Self-satisfaction? Do their individual goals, backgrounds, life circumstances create more conflict?

I write in deep POV, but there’s no reason you can’t have two POV characters regardless of the POV choices you make. Often there are more than two, but usually those are secondary characters, not protagonists. Since PJ’s challenge said “dual protagonists” I’m sticking with two, which is how I prefer to write.

My preference—and again in a romantic suspense, you’re tied to reader expectations and genre conventions—I will introduce hero and heroine in their own opening chapters. (That means you’re effectively writing TWO Chapter Ones with all the challenges that entails.)

In my earlier books, I wrote two scenes per chapter, alternating protagonists. With the current trend of short chapters, I now write each protagonist’s scene as a separate chapter. As with any scene or chapter, we strive to end it with a page-turning moment.

Now, when the reader turns the page, they’re going to find they’re in another character’s head. My position is that you have to ground the reader in the who, when, and where for every scene or chapter change. Because—heaven forbid—the reader might have put the book down and might be coming back to it hours, days, or weeks later. I’m not fond of chapter headings, because as soon as the reader turns the page, they’re gone.

This holds true regardless of how many protagonists you have, but if there’s a single one, the ‘who’ is generally understood.

If your protagonists are working together and have been in the same scenes, once you set up the reminder of whose head you’re in, you can move the story along.

If they’re apart, it’s more of a challenge, because now you have to make sure the reader gets back into that character’s timeline. The opening paragraphs will have to work harder to establish what’s going on, but without info dumping.

In the spirit of Show, Don’t Tell, here are a couple of examples from Danger Abroad, my most recent release.

Chapter 3 is a Maddie POV scene. She’s arrived at her new lodgings in the Faroes and is having tea and cake with the landlady, who’s asked what brought her to the island. It ends like this:

As Maddie mentally composed her reply—the reasons she’d given when she’d requested a room—a banging on the door, accompanied by “Open up. I know you’re in there,” shattered the moment.

Chapter 4 is a Logan POV scene, and he’s somewhere else, working on his own task, which is finding Maddie, but he’s in San Francisco and she’s in the Faroe Islands. When his chapter ends, how do I draw readers back into Maddie’s story?

Chapter 5 is back to Maddie, and it opens like this:

Maddie’s tea sloshed into the saucer. Who could possibly know she was here? She’d done everything right, covered her tracks. Hadn’t she? She set her tea on the coffee table and studied Hanna, who didn’t seem alarmed—or confused—by whoever was outside.

Same thing goes for the POV chapters/scenes of the second protagonist. Bring the reader back to the who, when, and where.

As for PJ’s concern that readers might find one protagonist more attractive? I say it’s unlikely that every reader will like every character in a book equally. In reality, most romantic suspense books, although they have two protagonists, they’re not completely equal. It’s more like a 49/51 split. One of them will have a slightly stronger role, so yes, it’s quite possible a reader will prefer one over the other. If the reader’s goal, as it usually is when reading a mystery, is to see the crime solved and the bad guy brought to justice, do we care which protagonist they prefer?

In any genre, every time you add a POV character, you risk the reader not liking that character or the plot thread they’re commanding and skimming or skipping those parts. With only two, it’s less likely to happen, but yes, it’s possible.

I hope I’ve touched upon some answers to PJ’s question. If you have more, fire away. Feel free to share your experiences, either as a reader or writer, with dual protagonists. My brother’s visiting, so I might not be around to reply to comments right away, but I’ll check in when I can.


New! Find me at Substack with Writings and Wanderings

Danger Abroad

When breaking family ties is the only option.

Madison Westfield has information that could short-circuit her politician father’s campaign for governor. But he’s family. Although he was a father more in word than deed, she changes her identity and leaves the country rather than blow the whistle.

Blackthorne, Inc. taps Security and Investigations staffer, Logan Bolt, to track down Madison Westfield. When he finds her in the Faroe Islands, her story doesn’t match the one her father told Blackthorne. The investigation assignment quickly switches to personal protection for Madison.

Soon, they’re involved with a drug ring and a kidnapping attempt. Will working together put them in more danger? Can a budding relationship survive the dangers they encounter?

Available now.

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


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

Immersion Technique #WriteTip

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.

What About Structure?

What About Structure?
Terry Odell

Image by wwwqwerty from Pixabay

Recently, I was looking at a Facebook post mentioning a podcast about voice, and Dr. Doug Lyle was the presenter. Since I know and like him, I was interested in tuning in. This is what he said in his introductory remarks:

“So the one thing that I always tell writers is to forget all the rules, to forget all the three act structure, forget all the first turning point, second turning point, all that stuff because all it’s going to do is, you’re going to start figuring out how am I structuring this rather than telling the damn story. And the single most important thing that sells a book is voice.”

Interesting. I know an author’s voice is a main factor in my continuing to read more of their work. That, and characters, but that’s another discussion for another time.

As someone who never studied writing of any kind beyond writing the compulsory essays in English classes, I’ve never given a lot of thought to how things play out as I’m writing.

A lot of time here at TKZ is spent discussing structure. I’m starting to write my 34th novel. Have I given a thought to pinch points, turning points, signposts, mirror moments, calls to action, point of no return?

Nope. Not a single one.

The book will be another Mapleton Mystery. I’ve written about 15,000 words, and I haven’t even finalized the primary crime yet. There’s the B plot, too, with a secondary crime, and I wonder if I should have some kind of structure for that one, too. Since I’m an “organic” writer (fancy term for pantser), I don’t know how long my book will be, so I don’t have a clue where all these structural pieces would have to go as I write. Plus, I’ve found that when I have any kind of a roadmap, I’m in too much of a hurry to get from point A to point B that I leave out the parts that make up my voice.

At about the same time that I heard Dr. Lyle’s advice, I saw a post from another author acquaintance, Neil Plakcy, which piqued my interest. He was willing to share, and I’m quoting him here.


I was the chief judge for the Lilian Jackson Braun award given out by Mystery Writers of America, which led me to read 80 mystery novels, mostly in the cozy range. It was a great education in structure because most of the books followed a particular path.

A young woman suffers a loss in the big city. Maybe she loses her job or is dumped by her boyfriend. Or maybe she’s just generally unhappy and unfulfilled.

She often inherits a house or a store in her hometown, or a small town where she spent summers with a beloved aunt or grandmother.

By the end of the first chapter she’s picked up and moved to that small town. By the end of the first third, someone is murdered. Maybe an old friend is the victim, or the suspect. Maybe she’s even suspected herself. She becomes an amateur sleuth to clear her name or her friend’s, or to bring justice to her lost friend/family member. Along the way she is attracted to the hunky police detective. (Who knew small-town cops were so handsome?)

Maybe he welcomes her help, or maybe he pushes her away. But by the end of the second chunk of the book, she’s put herself in danger.

Eventually she uses her specific knowledge (of books, baking, candles, etc.) to figure out whodunnit.

Where I cared about the characters, I began dreading that second plot point, when she gets in danger. I just wanted the happy ending without the trauma.

That’s what led me to write The Smiling Dog Cafe, because in Japanese-style healing fiction the stakes are low and the sense of community is high. There can be pain and angst, but it’s threaded through the book rather than in a big plot point.


**My note: Based on reviews, I’m thinking there are a lot of readers who agree.

I will say this. In all of my novels and novellas, I’ve yet to have a reader complain or compliment me on the structure of the book. For me, like for Dr. Lyle, I want to tell a story.

I’m curious as to how much readers pay attention to structure when they’re reading. Are you aware of when things are supposed to happen? Do you anticipate them? Does that enhance or hamper the read?

Writers. Do you follow any given structure as you write, or do you go back and deal with it in edits? Or do you just “tell the damn story?”


New! Find me at Substack with Writings and Wanderings

Danger Abroad

When breaking family ties is the only option.

Madison Westfield has information that could short-circuit her politician father’s campaign for governor. But he’s family. Although he was a father more in word than deed, she changes her identity and leaves the country rather than blow the whistle.

Blackthorne, Inc. taps Security and Investigations staffer, Logan Bolt, to track down Madison Westfield. When he finds her in the Faroe Islands, her story doesn’t match the one her father told Blackthorne. The investigation assignment quickly switches to personal protection for Madison.

Soon, they’re involved with a drug ring and a kidnapping attempt. Will working together put them in more danger? Can a budding relationship survive the dangers they encounter?

Available now

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


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

Scars Tell a Story #WriteTip

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.

The First Mystery Novel

“The job of the artist is always to deepen the mystery.” —Francis Bacon

* * *

Kris Montee wrote a post last week about mystery novels and authors. Today, Dale Ivan Smith and I begin a two-part post on the first mystery novel, The Woman in White by Wilkie Collins. In this post, I’ll explore the background of the novel and give a summary of the plot. In his upcoming post, Dale will take a look at the characters in the book.

BACKGROUND

Wilkie Collins was born in England in 1824. His father was the  well-known artist William Collins. Authors will be interested to know that it was Wilkie’s experience at Cole’s boarding school where he first found an incentive for telling stories. According to a Collins biography website:

It was here that he began his career as a storyteller to appease the dormitory bully, later recalling that ‘it was this brute who first awakened in me, his poor little victim, a power of which but for him I might never have been aware.’

Attorneys (and I know there are some that read these posts) will be interested to know Collins was a law student and was called to the bar in 1851. Although he never practiced law, his tendency to describe events in some of his books through the eyes of different characters, reminds one of witness testimonies.

Collins’ friendship with Charles Dickens began around 1850. The first of Collins’ four major novels, The Woman in White, was published in serial form in Dickens’ All the Year Round periodical from November 1859 to August 1860 and became a roaring success.  Again, from the Collins biography website:

It was received with great popular acclaim and ran to seven editions in 1860, alone. All kinds of commodities such as cloaks, bonnets, perfumes were called after it; there were Woman in White Waltzes and Quadrilles; it was parodied in Punch; Gladstone found the story so absorbing that he missed a visit to the theatre; and Thackeray was engrossed from morning to sunset.

Perhaps the extraordinary popularity of the novel was why Collins left instructions for his tombstone to be inscribed with the words “In memory of Wilkie Collins, author of ‘The Woman in White’ and other works of fiction.”

A NEW GENRE

You would think the first effort at a new genre would be a clumsy one, but I didn’t find that when I read the book. Although it’s long (248K words according to howlongtoread.com), the story is captivating, and it is considered by many to be one of the best novels ever written. This from Wikipedia:

In 2003, Robert McCrum writing for The Observer listed The Woman in White number 23 in “the top 100 greatest novels of all time,” and the novel was listed at number 77 on the BBC’s survey The Big Read.

At its heart, TWIW is a love story. Boy meets girl, boy loses girl, boy gets girl back. But the story is wrapped within a mysterious “secret” that the main character pursues and it’s this that keeps the reader turning pages.

PLOT AND STRUCTURE

The book is divided into three “epochs” which are narrated by different characters.

In Epoch One, Collins immediately employs The Hook. The protagonist, a young art instructor by the name of Walter Hartright, is approached while alone on a dark road by a mysterious woman in distress who is dressed all in white.

The woman, Anne Catherick, asks for directions, and Hartright helps her find a cab to take her to her destination. In the next few paragraphs, Hartright witnesses a man in a carriage tell a policeman that a woman escaped from his asylum. She was dressed all in white! Now the reader is hooked for sure.

Hartright continues to his new position at Limmeridge House where he meets his students, half-sisters Marian Halcombe and Laura Fairlie. They live in the estate home of Laura’s uncle and guardian, the hilarious curmudgeon, Mr. Fairlie. Hartright notices Laura bears a striking resemblance to the woman in white, and he tells them the story of his meeting with Anne Catherick.

Walter and Laura fall in love, but Laura, who will receive a large sum of money upon marriage, is engaged to be married to Sir Percival Glyde, a man she does not love. Hartright is forced into a heartbreaking withdrawal.

When Glyde arrives at the estate prior to the marriage, he seems genial enough, but there’s something edgy and uncomfortable about him. The young women discover he was responsible for committing Anne Catherick to a mental institution.

Percival Glyde and Laura Fairlie marry, and it soon becomes apparent that he wants her to sign over her inheritance to him. Tension builds between Laura and Percival. The stakes are further raised when Anne Catherick appears again and indicates she has a secret about Percival Glyde that will destroy him, but she doesn’t reveal it.

By the time Walter Hartright reenters the story, he is told Laura is dead and Anne Catherick has been sent back to a mental institution. Marian Halcombe is convinced foul play was involved in Laura’s death, and she and Hartright begin an amateur sleuth investigation into the situation. They are especially interested in the “secret” Anne Catherick had. They track Anne to an asylum where they make a shocking discovery.

I’ll stop there so I don’t give away the ending.

* * *

I mentioned several of the major characters above, but there are ten characters that offer first person accounts at different points in the story. Although we sometimes think we need to limit the number of POV characters, I think the “witness” narratives are effective here. In my opinion, having the story emerge through the eyes of various characters is an effective way to put the puzzle together one piece at a time until the reader finally gets to see the whole picture.

* * *

There are several movies of The Woman in White. The one we have is the Masterpiece Theatre version, and I recommend it. The acting is very good. Although the movie changes some of the story and shortens it considerably, it’s a great introduction to TWIW.

* * *

So TKZers: Have you read The Woman in White or seen any of the various movies? What are your thoughts? Have you used the method of telling a story through the eyes of different characters? What’s your favorite mystery novel?

 

  Cassie Deakin investigates a forty-year-old murder mystery and comes face-to-face with a killer who will stop at nothing to keep his secret.

Available at  AmazonBarnes & NobleKoboGoogle Play, or Apple Books.

Let’s Talk Turkey #WriteTip

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.