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.

Should You Write a Prequel?

When Dexter: Original Sin came out, I had my doubts. The ending of Dexter: New Blood left a bad taste in my mouth (I won’t spoil it for you).

Jeff Lindsay isn’t to blame for that. New Blood and Original Sin are based on the characters from Lindsay’s long-standing series but don’t have a direct novel equivalent. The television franchise creator, Clyde Phillips, made changes to the story for the show.

Dexter: Original Sin is also a prequel that shows Dexter’s early years… how his father created “the code” to keep his “dark passenger” under control, his internship at Miami Metro Police Department, and his first kill.

Without basing the prequel on a Lindsay novel, I was more than a little reluctant to watch it. But I love Dexter! Which is a great reason to write a prequel. If you have a beloved character, readers might be interested in their early years.

Upside of Prequels

Character depth: Write a prequel to show the origin story of a beloved character or cast to explain their motivation and how they became who they are in the original series.

World-building: Write a prequel to provide a deeper look into the world before the main events i.e., history, politics, culture, etc.

Fresh perspectives: Write a prequel to showcase lesser-known characters and their perspectives.

Downside of Prequels

Unnecessary recap: Don’t write a prequel to rehash plot points from one of the original novels or the series as a whole.

Disappointing character portrayals: Don’t write a prequel to capture the essence of an established character or cast, or you’ll risk undoing all the characterization in the series.

Quality: If you don’t believe the prequel can live up to the high standards of the series, write something else.

The last thing you want is for readers to think:

  • “Was the prequel necessary?”
  • “Meh. It was okay, not nearly as good as the original novels.”
  • “What did I just read? I feel tricked, like everything I believed was a lie.”
  • Or the fatal blow: “Doubt I’ll even buy the next book in the series now.”

Too many franchises use prequels to pad the bank account, and few live up to the original series. While it may be fun for readers/viewers to revisit the characters and story world they love, too often prequels fall flat. Either they’re filled with inconsistencies in characterization, or they attempt to skew previous storylines to fit the new narrative.

Neither apply to Dexter: Original Sin.

Phillips did a masterful job of showing Dexter’s early years. A young actor named Patrick Gibson plays Dexter, but Michael C. Hall — whom we all grew to love in the original television series — narrates Dexter Morgan’s inner voice. Genius! The main reason I waited to watch the show was because, in my opinion, no other actor could play Dexter Morgan. ’Course, I never thought anyone could play a believable Hannibal Lecter, either, but Mads Mikkelsen proved me wrong.

From the first episode of Dexter: Original Sin, the screenwriter captivated me with how he portrayed the origin story. Let’s look at everything he did right.

In the first five episodes, Phillips never tried to change the character of Dexter Morgan. Instead, he merely filled in the blanks of what we missed in the original series. Patrick Gibson (young Dexter) didn’t overplay his role. The trailer misled me by zooming in on young Dexter’s evil expression — and not in a good way — when in fact, 20-year-old Dexter is simply learning to deal with the duality within him.

  • He knows he’s different from other people.
  • He questions why he’s different.
  • He fights the desires of his “dark passenger.”

Conflict, conflict, and more conflict.

Discussions between Dexter and Harry Morgan turn almost heartwarming. Regardless of subject matter, the love between a father and his adopted son shines through. They’re doing the best they can under impossible circumstances.

As a homicide sergeant at Miami Metro PD, Harry taught Dexter “the code” shown via flashbacks in the original series.

For years, Dexter believed Harry created the code, but in season eight of the original series, we learned he had help. Dr. Evelyn Vogel, a neuropsychiatrist who specializes in the treatment of psychopaths, noticed Dexter had psychopathic tendencies as a child. So, she and Harry developed the Code of Harry as a way for Dexter to safely satisfy his needs and help rid society of dangerous predators.

Dexter: Original Sin provides an in-depth look at the code in real time, as the prequel takes place fifteen years before the original series.

Code of Harry

  1. Don’t get caught.
  2. Never kill an innocent.
  3. Targets must be killers who have evaded the justice system.
  4. Killing must serve a purpose. Otherwise, it’s just plain murder.
  5. Blend in socially to maintain appearances.
  6. Fake emotions and normality.
  7. Control and channel the urge to kill.
  8. Be prepared. Leave no trace or evidence.
  9. Never make a [public] scene. Stay calm and collected.
  10. Don’t make things personal because it clouds judgment.
  11. Don’t get emotionally involved.
  12. No preemptive killing.

The prequel never tries to rewrite the well-established Code of Harry. Instead, Phillips shows mistakes by both Harry and Dexter as they attempt to navigate their new normal. We also see Dexter’s first kill, which broke several rules for a valid reason, and learn more about Dexter’s birth mother and her relationship with Harry.

Dexter: Original Sin succeeds because it enhances Lindsay’s original series. And that may be the best reason of all to write a prequel. Otherwise, writer beware — penning a decent prequel is not an easy endeavor.

Have you ever considered writing a prequel? 

If you’ve written a prequel, what was your deciding factor? What did you hope to achieve? How did readers respond?

Have you read a prequel that blew you away?

What prequel failed to meet your expectations, and why?

Character Based Transitions

Character Based Transitions
Terry Odell

dog in the snow with Happy Holidays textAs this is my last post here before TKZ takes its annual holiday break, I’d like to wish everyone my best wishes for a happy holiday season, no matter what you celebrate. And if you don’t celebrate any holidays in December, I wish you a happy month.

Travel played a big part in my 2024, with two big international trips—one to New Zealand, and another to the Faroe Islands. I’m currently working on a book set against some of the places we saw in the Faroes. I’ve mentioned it before. Writing a book set in a place you’ve been turns in into a research trip. Read tax write off.

My Danube Christmas Market book, Double Intrigue, is a stand alone, but when it came to figuring out the bones of a story focused in the Faroes, it seemed more suited to another Blackthorne, Inc. book. Keeping within that series genre, it would have to be a romantic suspense. And, like in Cruising Undercover, it wasn’t going to be a covert ops book, but rather the protagonist would be working in Blackthorne’s Security and Investigations department. I’m too burned out on war and violence to write about it. And, because “romantic suspense” would be in the subtitle, I was going to need a second protagonist in order to meet the expectations of romance readers.

Have I ever mentioned the challenges of writing a romantic suspense? It’s really three books in one. There’s the ‘suspense/mystery’ story, as well as the romance story, which requires character arcs for both the hero and heroine. (Or hero/hero or heroine/heroine, but I haven’t written one of those yet.)

hands of runners handing off a relay race batonMy normal style is to alternate chapters between my POV characters. Which brings me to transitions.

JSB recently wrote that he used a jump cut and Drop Caps to alert the reader to a new scene. I’m old school and use chapters. I used to include both POV scenes in my chapters, but my editor told me that since readers want short chapters these days, to make each POV scene its own chapter.

I recently read a book by a Big Name Author who told the story from the points of view of two protagonists. Not a romance by any stretch. The two characters were working toward a common goal, often going their separate ways. It was a great book, don’t get me wrong, but the author never made it clear (to me, anyway) at the start of each chapter, who the POV character was. It created ‘out of the story’ moments. Now, if I’d been a more astute reader, I might have realized that one protagonist was written in 1st person, and the other was written in third, but that took a lot of time to figure out.

My approach when I’m writing is to make darn sure that every chapter starts out with showing who/where/when/and a POV “flag” to ground my readers. Troubling as it may be to authors, readers might have put the book down, gone to work, come home to a family crisis, or any other interruption and they might not get back to the book for several days. Or, they’re like me, and they just plain forget.

In the current wip, not only do I have 2 POV characters, but they don’t get together on the page until Chapter 14. Until then, they’re in different countries, and their timelines aren’t the same. Not because of time zone issues. One’s several weeks ahead of the other.

I ended up writing each character’s chapters separately, and then weaving them together. Sort of like JSB’s Shadow Stories, because I needed to know what each of them was doing in their own timeline even though they hadn’t met yet, but these stories were on the page, not in my notes. That wasn’t my normal process, and created its own challenges when it came time to weave them together.

If you’re alternating POV characters, and they’re not together, the last sentence of the previous paragraph might not lead into the first one of the next.

Every chapter needs to ground the reader. Who’s the POV character? Where are they? When is it? What are they doing?

I prefer to get this information right up front. Definitely within the first few paragraphs.

The “who” I want in the first paragraph if at all possible.

Things to consider:

  • Use the character’s name.
  • Show them doing something.
  • Show a thought or something only they would know—the POV “flag”.

The vibration of Logan Bolt’s cell phone gave him a welcome excuse for a break from his run.

We have his name: Logan Bolt. He’s running. He’s glad for the interruption, and only he knows this. (flag”)

Or this:

Maddie busied herself with kitchen tasks, trying not to think that Logan might not have been completely honest.

We know the POV character is Maddie. She’s working in the kitchen. Only she will know what she’s thinking. (”flag”)

Doesn’t take much, but you’re grounding your reader.

I did a post a while back dedicated solely to different kinds of transitions, so if you want more, you can find it here.

How do you handle transitions? Tips and Peeves welcome.

And again, Happy Holidays. See you in January.


New! Find me at Substack with Writings and Wanderings

Double Intrigue
When your dream assignment turns into more than you bargained for
Cover of Double Intrigue, an International Romantic Suspense by Terry Odell Shalah Kennedy has dreams of becoming a senior travel advisor—one who actually gets to travel. Her big break comes when the agency’s “Golden Girl” is hospitalized and Shalah is sent on a Danube River cruise in her place. She’s the only advisor in the agency with a knowledge of photography, and she’s determined to get stunning images for the agency’s website.
Aleksy Jakes wants out. He’s been working for an unscrupulous taskmaster in Prague, and he’s had enough. When he spots one of his coworkers in a Prague hotel restaurant, he’s shocked to discover she’s not who he thought she was.
As Shalah and Aleksy cruise along the Danube, the simple excursion soon becomes an adventure neither of them imagined.

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.”

What is Your Character’s Wounding Event?

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.

Does Your Story Have a Full Circle Moment?

A full circle moment occurs when life provides clarity about the past.

The journey begins with an often harrowing event, we endure trials and tribulations along the way, then end up right where we started.

Only now, we have the wisdom of life experience and personal growth to view the past from a new perspective.

Have you experienced a full circle moment in your life?

I’m living one right now. As I mentioned before, I grew up in Massachusetts. When I moved to New Hampshire, I said I’d never return, that no one could pay me to live there again. And that remained my mindset for decades. But now, after a series of difficult personal experiences and a new, enlightened perspective, I plan to move back to Massachusetts. Everything about my decision feels right — it feels like I’ve finally found my way home.

If I were to write my life story one day, the jangle of the key in the lock of my new home would become a powerful full circle moment in the book.

A full circle moment completes the character arc.

Story Circle

Dan Harmon is the mastermind behind the Story Circle. Currently an executive producer at Rick and Morty, he also created and ran the NBC show Community. Dan consolidated Joseph Campbell’s classic Hero’s Journey from 17+ steps into a more contemporary set of 8, each with a punchy one-word descriptor that makes them easy to remember.

Please ignore my lame attempt at drawing a straight line with a mouse. 😀

click to enlarge

YOU: A compelling main character (YOU) has a problem.

NEED: YOU have a need.

YOU want something. YOU are not satisfied with a ho-hum lifestyle. Either this desire stems from an internal NEED before the inciting incident, or something or someone comes along to awaken the desire within YOU.

GO: YOU cross the threshold into an adventure.

YOU have packed your bags to search for a brighter tomorrow. Not only are YOU ready to GO but you’re going no matter what. No one can stop YOU. The NEED is too strong to ignore.

SEARCH: YOU find the answer to your problem.

Mission accomplished. Or is it?

YOU land in a new country and don’t speak the language, nor are YOU familiar with the culture.

Let’s see what YOU are made of. Will YOU adapt? Or fall apart? Perhaps a little of both.

FIND: Things are not how they appear.

This is a major threshold the character must cross, one that spins the story in a new direction. The protagonist has come this far. There’s no turning back. YOU must do everything within your power to fight to fulfill your NEED.

TAKE: But there’s always a price to pay.

How badly do YOU want it? This is where we see how steep of a price the protagonist is willing to pay to get what they NEED.

In this part of the story, the protagonist comes face-to-face with the villain and dangerously close to death, real or internal. The climax is the culmination of everything YOU have been fighting for since the beginning.

RETURN: After YOU slay the metaphorical (or real) dragon, YOU RETURN to the ordinary world.

YOU have fulfilled your NEED, defeated the villain, learned something about yourself, and are ready to RETURN home. In a romcom, it’s here where the hero races to the airport to prevent his soulmate from boarding the plane. In a thriller, the protagonist has defeated the villain and must RETURN home, even if there’s more danger in the near future.

CHANGE: The journey has changed YOU, for better or worse.

YOU are not the same person YOU were before. Are YOU wiser? Better prepared for the unexpected? Or more cautious, even paranoid? How has the journey changed YOU?

Wizard of Oz — Story Circle Example 

YOU: Dorothy is in the black-and-white world, dreaming (in song) about traveling over the rainbow rather than stay in Kansas.

NEED: A twister dumps Dorothy’s house in a colorful town square. No longer in a black-and-white world, she enters a land of technicolor and NEEDs to adapt to a new and unfamiliar place.

GO: When Dorothy first lands in Oz, she doesn’t know where she is or how she got there. Soon, she realizes she’s “over the rainbow” and her NEED now is to get home. The only way to do that is to journey to see the great and powerful Oz. She also must stay on the yellow brick road and watch out for the Wicked Witch of the West. But she must go. The NEED to GO home is too great. Dorothy begins her adventure.

SEARCH: With advice from Glinda, the Good Witch of the North*, and her ruby red slippers, Dorothy and Toto follow the yellow brick road toward the great unknown. For the first few steps, she literally focuses on putting one foot in front of the other until she moves farther down the road.

Along the way she encounters the Scarecrow, the Tin Man, and the Lion. She also endures conflict and obstacles — facing her fears, traversing through the forest, and finding a way to meet the great and powerful Oz.

*In the original novel Glinda is the Good Witch of the South, but I used “North” from the 1939 film adaptation because it’s more well-known.

FIND: The Emerald City is finally within sight. Dorothy believes the field of poppies is a beautiful and faster way to get there. But all is not how it appears. To steal the ruby red slippers, the Wicked Witch of the West has placed a field of magical sleep-inducing poppies on the outskirts of the city, and Dorothy and Toto fall into a deep slumber.

This scene is a beautiful example of the fifth stage of the Story Circle that hints at the darkness that creeps within us all, even more so when we set out to make our dreams a reality.

TAKE: The Wicked Witch of the West sends her band of flying monkeys to bring Dorothy and her friends to the castle. But the flying monkeys can’t harm Dorothy because she wears the mark of the Good Witch of the North on her forehead. Dorothy is forced to choose between her magic slippers and Toto, whom the Wicked Witch threatens to drown if Dorothy refuses to comply.

When the Wicked Witch torches the Scarecrow, his straw is set on fire. Dorothy tosses a bucket of water to help her friend but also wets the Wicked Witch, who melts into a puddle on the floor.

Dorothy’s victory shows the reader/viewer she has the inner strength to complete her quest.

RETURN: Dorothy discovers the wizard is a fraud. But luckily, there’s still a way to get home. The answer has been on Dorothy’s feet the entire time. She clicks her heels three times and repeats, “There’s no place like home.”

CHANGE: Dorothy realizes her home and family are the most valuable treasures on earth. She’s no longer the dreamy girl who wishes to leave Kansas. She’s grateful for what she has and finds happiness in the simple things.

She is transformed. And it’s a powerful full circle moment.

Have you experienced a full circle moment in your life? Tell us about it. Or share your favorite full circle moment from a book or movie.

Are you familiar with the Story Circle? Pantser or plotter, it’s an easy way to test your character arc.

Thank you to all our military men and women for your service. Happy Veterans Day!

Please note: I’m on the road today, so I may not be available to respond to comments right away.

The Chronology of Story: Foreshadowing

“Time flies over us, but leaves its shadow behind.” – Nathaniel Hawthorne

* * *

 As we all know, stories are the recollection of events that happen through time. In January, I posted an article on flashbacks in story-telling. Today, I’d like to go in the other direction with foreshadowing.

* * *

To begin, let’s look at the difference between flash forward and foreshadowing.

A flash forward takes the reader to a point in the future. A good example is Charles Dickens’s A Christmas Carol where Ebenezer Scrooge is taken into the future by a ghost to show him what will happen after his death if he doesn’t change his ways.

* * *

But foreshadowing is different, and despite what Hawthorne said, a shadow may indicate events to come.

According to masterclass.com,

“Foreshadowing is a literary device used to give an indication or hint of what is to come later in the story. Foreshadowing is useful for creating suspense, a feeling of unease, a sense of curiosity, or a mark that things may not be as they seem.”

Foreshadowing may be direct or indirect.

* * *

Direct Foreshadowing overtly states an upcoming event or twist in the story.

For example, the prologue of Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet specifically states that the two lovers will die in the story:

“From forth the fatal loins of these two foes
A pair of star-cross’d lovers take their life;
Whose misadventured piteous overthrows
Do with their death bury their parents’ strife.”

 

Another example of this straight-forward form of foreshadowing is when the author simply makes a statement about the future.

I recently read the novel Tom Lake by Ann Patchett where the first-person narrator recounts to her three daughters the story of her love affair with a famous actor. Late in the book, the narrator explains to the reader that she has told all of her past to her children – well, almost all. “And I am done, except for this: I saw Duke one other time, and of that time I will say nothing to my girls.” So the reader knows that an event which is explained in detail to the reader will not be related to other characters in the book. (Sort of a negative foreshadowing.)

* * *

Indirect Foreshadowing is a more subtle way of hinting at future events or outcomes in the story.

 

“If you say in the first act that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third act it absolutely must go off.” –Anton Chekhov

 

 

 

 

In To Kill a Mockingbird, Atticus talks to Jem about courage after the death of Mrs. Dubose.

“I wanted you to see what real courage is, instead of getting the idea that courage is a man with a gun in his hand. It’s when you know you’re licked before you begin, but you begin anyway and see it through no matter what.”

That conversation foreshadowed Atticus’s own courage in defending Tom Robinson.

In an early chapter of Tom Lake, the first-person narrator betrays her best friend by stealing the other girl’s boyfriend. That event foreshadows a similar betrayal later in the book when the same thing happens to the protagonist.

* * *

So TKZers: Do you think foreshadowing is a useful device in novel writing? Have you used foreshadowing in your novels? Can you think of any examples in stories you’ve read?

* * *

Private pilot Cassie Deakin declares her distrust of handsome men in the first paragraph of Lacey’s Star. That statement foreshadows her flawed decisions on trust throughout the book and almost gets her killed.

Available at  AmazonBarnes & NobleKoboGoogle Play, or Apple Books.

#WriteTip: To Fix a Scene, Sniff Out the Tick

Not her, but she wore a similar expression.

Last weekend, I was lovin’ on an adorable Chihuahua/Fox Terrier when I spotted an abscess under her left eye. She’s a little furball. The abscess hid under a mess of blonde curls.

When I brought the problem to her human’s attention, we discussed possible reasons for it. Did she scratch herself? Why was she scratching? Do her eyes itch? If so, why? Or did she accidentally catch the skin with her nail while cleaning her face?

Over the years, I’ve treated many abscesses on friends’ animals. For some reason, they all call me when something’s wrong with their furbabies. I’m not a vet, but some problems are easy fixes that don’t require dishing out hundreds of dollars and leaving the furbaby in distress while they wait for an appointment.

Like we did with the dog, if a scene in the WIP feels off in some way, we need to acknowledge there’s a problem. Only then can we gain enough clarity to fix it.

The first step in treating an abscess is to find the root cause. When we examined her eye, we found a dead tick attached to the inside rim of her lower eyelid. The rubbing of the tick against her eyeball caused her to scratch while her human was at work. We also found a small red mark in the corner of the abscess from her nail(s).

The first step to fix a scene is to find the root cause. Why doesn’t the scene work? Is the pacing off? Does it lack tension/conflict? Are there no obstacles to overcome? Does each character have a scene goal? If so, what are they? How does the scene advance the plot?

Once we removed the tick, we treated the abscess by applying hot compresses. Heat loosens the pocket of infection and relaxes the skin. The goal is to let the existing wound open on its own.

When examining a scene, go slow and sniff out the problem. First, look at the structure. Does it follow the micro-beats of scene and sequel?

SCENE

Goal: What does the POV character want? If you don’t know, that could be the problem. The character’s goal must be clear from the start, even to the reader.

Conflict: What are the obstacles standing in the way of the character reaching their goal? Obstacles can be external or internal. If there aren’t any, you’ve identified the problem.

Disaster: Even if your character overcomes the conflict, your job is to make things worse. Ideally, the scene should roll into the sequel with the feeling of, “Oh, no! Now what?”

SEQUEL

Reaction: How does your character react to the scene disaster?

A well-crafted sequel clues the reader into the character’s internal journey, presents a compelling dilemma, and ends with the character setting a new goal. Sequels are where major decisions, reversals, and growth happens. They set up the character’s next move.

Dilemma: The dilemma is the problem your character faces because of the scene disaster. Make sure your character has no good options, or at least they can’t see a way out of the tricky situation they’re in. If the sequel lacks a dilemma, it’ll destroy the structure because the choice they make leads to the next micro-story beat.

Decision: How will they deal with the new dilemma? The decision often becomes the goal of the next scene. If they have no idea what to do, you at least need some sort of decision here, even if they choose to retreat.

Also not her, but same happy mood.

After a few rounds of hot compresses, blood and puss drained from the abscess. The inner lid where we removed the dead tick stopped bleeding, the skin relaxed into place, and the wound under her eye sealed closed.

No one was more relieved than the sweet, little furbaby. We accepted payment in the form of kisses, tail wags, and happy prances.

The next time a scene in the WIP doesn’t work, search for the tick. It’s hiding in there somewhere.