Tag Archives: #WritingCommunity

Clues

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Clue – noun — anything that serves to guide or direct in the solution of a problem, mystery, etc.

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According to the online Merriam-Webster dictionary

‘The word clue was originally a variant spelling of clew, meaning “ball of thread or yarn.” Our modern sense of clue, “guide to the solution of a mystery,” grows out of a motif in myth and folklore, the ball of thread that helps in finding one’s way out of a maze. ‘

 

The “ball of thread” mentioned in the M-W etymology refers to one of my favorite stories in Greek mythology.

The Clue of Ariadne

It all started when there was a war between Crete and Athens. Crete won the war, and the rather sadistic King Minos of Crete exacted a horrible punishment on the Athenians. He required that the king of Athens periodically send seven young men and seven young women to the Isle of Crete to become dinner for the horrible monster, the Minotaur.

The Big M was housed inside a labyrinth constructed by none other than the ingenious Daedalus.  The labyrinth was so large and complex that it served as a prison for the Minotaur. When the poor Athenian sacrifices arrived, they would be forced into the maze. At some point in their wanderings, they’d encounter the Minotaur, and things wouldn’t go well for them.

After this horrific nonsense went on for a few years, a young man named Theseus, the son of the Athenian king, decided enough was enough. He vowed to put a stop to the awful goings-on by sailing to Crete, entering the labyrinth, and killing the Minotaur. That was a noble plan, but it had one problem: the labyrinth was so complicated, he probably wouldn’t find his way out.

That’s when our heroine, Ariadne, entered the picture. Ariadne was the daughter of King Minos, and she fell in love with the dashing Theseus. He promised to marry her if she could figure out a way to get him back out of the labyrinth after he offed Mr. M. (At this point, I feel compelled to say that without Ariadne, Theseus was clueless.)

I truly love simple solutions to complicated problems, and I especially admire people who come up with them. That Ariadne was a problem-solver for the ages. She handed her true love a ball of thread, known as a clew, and told him to unwind it as he wandered around in the labyrinth. Then after he killed the Minotaur, he could just rewind it as he followed it out. Brilliant. And it worked!

Sounds like a Happy Ever After kind of ending, eh? Unfortunately, that scumbag Theseus broke his promise and didn’t marry the beautiful Ariadne, but I think she won out in the end. She got to go down in history as the very first mystery solver, and that’s endeared her to millions of readers through the years, whether they knew her name or not.

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Clues in a modern mystery are a little more sophisticated than a simple ball of thread, and detectives do more (at least we hope they do) than just wander around until they find the culprit.

However, there is one major similarity in our mysteries to the story of Theseus: the detective and the readers are led into a labyrinth. Only this one is constructed by the author. The answer to the mystery is within the maze, but the detective needs to know which clues to follow and which are red herrings.

I liked some of the clue categories listed on zaraaltair.com:

Physical clues: A gun or knife left at the scene of the murder. Maybe a button torn off. Of course, the villain can plant a clue at the scene to misdirect the detective.

Biological clues: Strands of hair, DNA, fingerprints.

Psychological clues: Profilers try to identify the type of person likely to commit a murder, but the detective uses his/her own knowledge of human nature to decide on suspects.

Timing clues: This is one of my favorites. Alibis are established based on the time of death, but clever villains might be able to manipulate that piece of evidence. A smashed watch is always a good clue that might be a red herring.

Clues of Omission: Another favorite. Something should be evident, but it isn’t. There’s a famous example from the Sherlock Holmes mystery “The Adventure of Silver Blaze” by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Holmes (naturally) notices something everyone else has missed.

Gregory (Scotland Yard detective): Is there any other point to which you would wish to draw my attention?
Holmes: To the curious incident of the dog in the night-time.
Gregory: The dog did nothing in the night-time.
Holmes: That was the curious incident.

 

 

I don’t know about you, but if I can include clues in such a way the reader finishes the story and slaps him/herself on the side of the head, thinking, “I should have seen it,” then I’ll be happy.

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So TKZers: How do you decide what clues to have in your mystery novels? What clues have inspired you?

 

In Lacey’s Star, there’s only one  clue to the murder, but it’s just a child’s note. It couldn’t be important. Could it?

Lacey’s Star is a Silver Falchion Award Top Pick (Cozy Mystery) at Killer Nashville.

On sale now at  Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Google Play, or Apple Books.

Choosing A Unique (But Fitting) Talent for Your Character

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I’m traveling today, so I invited the uber-talented Becca Puglisi to fill in for me. Don’t be shy in leaving her comments. I’ll join you tomorrow when I return from vacation. Enjoy!

I truly believe that excellent stories require excellent characters. And with so many books already out there—4 million published in the US in 2022 alone—we’ve got to be able to deliver compelling and realistic characters to set our stories apart. How do we do it? By focusing on the details. And one of the markers that can really boost individuality and memorability for a character is their particular talents or skills.

Every person has something they’re good at. Sometimes it’s a gift they’re born with that comes naturally; for others, it’s a carefully nurtured and honed ability. Many times, a character’s talent says something about who they are: it may tie into their belief system, meet a missing need, honor an influential person in their life, or reveal associated personality traits.

But despite the many talents and skills out there, we tend to see the same ones in books all the time. Now, if your story requires your character have a certain ability, that’s fine; sometimes, we don’t get to choose their special abilities. But if you’ve got more latitude, consider one of the following techniques for coming up with a skill that’s a little more original.

Go for Something Unusual

Sometimes it’s as easy as thinking beyond the obvious options. Instead of being a strong runner or artist, maybe your character could have a talent that’s a little less mainstream, like sleight of hand, lip-reading, or a knack for languages. Do you need them to be an athlete? Consider a sport readers haven’t seen a million times, like cricket, curling, water polo, or parkour. Your skilled forager could be urban rather than rural, fishing goodies out storm drains or dumpsters.

If you’re writing in a genre with fantastical elements, you can get really creative by giving your character an extrasensory ability or something that’s specific to your fantasy or paranormal world. Their skill will obviously have to work within the overall story and the world you’ve created, but you have more choices than you know, so don’t be afraid to branch out and try something new.

Encourage Your Character to Specialize

One way to come up with an unusual ability is to take a popular one and make it more specific. If your character is mechanically inclined, they may be particularly adept with machines from a certain region, time period, or industry. A marksman might specialize in one weapon, and maybe it’s not the typical rifle (Crossbow? Darts? Slingshot?). Your assassin may prefer to work with and have extensive knowledge of poisons. Breathe new life into a ho-hum strength by narrowing the focus.

Give a Common Talent a Twist

It’s not always necessary to reinvent the wheel; often, you can come up with something new by tweaking a popular talent. If musicality is your character’s thing, don’t make her a singer or piano player; maybe she really shines by writing music or crafting certain instruments. A character’s photographic memory may only be reliable for a few hours after events have happened. A person who blows off steam by knitting might use their talent to create blankets for preemies or hats for the homeless. In the latter case, the talent can also hint at personality traits (empathy, selflessness, generosity), hobbies, or other areas of passion.

We get more bang for the buck when our characterization and description elements do double duty, so if a character’s skill can also say something about who they are, that’s a bonus for readers.

Pair It with an Unexpected Personality Trait

Many skills are associated with certain traits because they often go together. For instance, people who are good with numbers are usually pretty analytical. But that doesn’t mean the two have to go together. A character with this ability could be highly creative or emotional, instead, and you’d end up with someone unexpected. Likewise, you could have a gifted public speaker who is painfully shy, stumbling their way through one-on-one conversations. This trick can be especially helpful when your story requires a common talent; get creative with your character’s traits, instead, and you can come up with something new that will pique readers’ interests.

In conclusion, an area of skill is a great way to individualize a character—but remember that it can’t be random. There are reasons people embrace and nurture certain talents. They come from somewhere: a natural aptitude, a shared passion with a loved one, the desire for approval or acceptance, etc. So a special ability shouldn’t be chosen at random. Always know the why behind it. Once you’ve ensured it ties naturally into their overall character profile, use these suggestions to take a character’s talent or skill to the next level.

Becca Puglisi is an international speaker, writing coach, and bestselling author of The Emotion Thesaurus and other resources for writers. Her books have sold over 1 million copies and are available in multiple languages, are sourced by US universities, and are used by novelists, screenwriters, editors, and psychologists around the world.

She is passionate about learning and sharing her knowledge with others through her Writers Helping Writers blog and via One Stop For Writers—a powerhouse online resource for authors that’s home to the Character Builder and Storyteller’s Roadmap tools.

 

The Deuteragonist

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Deuteragonist – noun — the actor next in importance to the protagonist.

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We all know what a protagonist and an antagonist are, but I had never heard the word “deuteragonist” until a few months ago. It comes from the Greek word “deuteros,” meaning “second.” But a deuteragonist is not just a secondary character, he/she is the secondary character.

Wikipedia tells us that ancient Greek drama originally had only one actor, the protagonist, and a group of dancers, the chorus. But then the playwright Aeschylus introduced a second character, the deuteragonist, in his plays.

Aristotle explained it in his work Poetics.

“Thus, it was Aeschylus who first raised the number of the actors from one to two. He also curtailed the chorus and made the dialogue be the leading part.”

So we can thank Aeschylus, who lived 2500 years ago, for the addition of the second character in drama, an innovation which enabled dialogue and conflict.

* * *

“The more complex you make your secondary characters, the more lifelike and involving your story will be.” –Donald Maass

So how is the deuteragonist different from the other secondary characters in today’s fiction?

According to studiobinder.com

“A deuteragonist is the second most important character in a story. This person is also known as the ‘secondary main character.’ While the protagonist gives us our primary point of view of the story, the deuteragonist often provides a different, but often similar, outlook.”

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The deuteragonist can serve different purposes, depending on the author’s goals. But whatever role the deuteragonist plays, he/she should complement the protagonist  in a way that affects the main character’s arc in the story.

 

One possibility is as a supporter, friend, or assistant to the protagonist. Dr. Watson is a famous example of this type of deuteragonist in the Sherlock Holmes books. Watson not only narrates the stories, his gentlemanly compassion contrasts nicely with the purely logical Holmes.

 

 

The deuteragonist can also be a love interest. An example of this could be from the movie “Titanic” where Jack Dawson (Leonardo DeCaprio) plays the main secondary to Rose (Kate Winslet). In the movie, Jack shows Rose there is more to life than the suffocating high society she’s being forced into.

 

 

Villains are always useful in helping protagonists overcome their shortcomings and face down danger. An example of this was the film “Die Hard” where the protagonist John McClane (Bruce Willis) matches wits with the villainous deuteragonist Hans Gruber (Alan Rickman.)

So there you have it. A deuteragonist can add spice and complexity to a story while enhancing the protagonist’s character arc.

* * *

“The three things that matter most in a story are characters, characters and characters.” –Bob Gale

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So TKZers: Are there deuteragonists that you like from books or films? Have you used a deuteragonist in any of your stories? Do you plan to? Tell us about them.

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Protagonist Kathryn Frasier trains for a marathon, deuteragonist Cece Goldman rehearses for a play, and antagonist murderers hide in plain sight in The Watch Mysteries, an ebook boxset of three complete novels available at Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Google Play, or Apple Books. (Today is the last day of the 99¢ sale.)

A Very Special Person Named First

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A little perspective, like a little humor, goes a long way. —Allen Klein

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My first two novels were written in third person. Each scene had one POV character and the verb tense was consistent throughout the scene.

But when I began my third novel, Time After Tyme, I decided to try something new. I gave one character a first-person POV in her scenes. The rest of the scenes were in third person. I discovered the power of first person in that novel, and I fell in love with it.

“You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view … until you climb into his skin and walk around in it.” –Atticus Finch, To Kill a Mockingbird

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I enjoyed writing first person so much that my fourth novel, Lacey’s Star, and the fifth (a yet-to-be-published middle grade effort), are written in first person from the main character’s POV. To me, first person is especially effective because the narration is a conversation (albeit one-sided) between the narrator and the reader. The narrator relays the story in his/her own words.

But there’s something else that’s special about first person that I think connects the reader to the story in a unique way. It’s a topic that I don’t recall having been discussed here on TKZ, so I’d like to raise it now. It has to do with verb tense.

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Example 1 from the classic by J.D. Salinger.

The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger

“They kicked me out. I wasn’t supposed to come back after Christmas vacation, on account of I was flunking four subjects and not applying myself and all. They gave me frequent warning to start applying myself—especially around midterms, when my parents came up for a conference with old Thurmer—but I didn’t do it. So I got the ax. They give guys the ax quite frequently at Pencey. It has a very good academic rating, Pencey. It really does.”

Did you see how the author switched from past tense to present so the character can move from telling the events of the story to offering a personal opinion? It’s as if the character wants to share a little detail with the reader, so he turns directly to the audience and hands out some extra information. This ability to offer side comments in the character’s voice seems to me to be unique in first person, and it shows an aspect of the character that may not work if the author stays with past tense.

When I was working on my first-person novels, I didn’t realize I was using exactly this technique, but someone with editing experience reviewed some of my work and told me the tense had to agree all the way through each scene. I didn’t see it that way, so I went looking for examples that used the first-person past / present approach. In addition to The Catcher in the Rye, I found lots of other examples, and they convinced my friend this was a valid approach.

Example 2 from a highly-regarded Middle Grade novel.

The Remarkable Journey of Coyote Sunrise by Dan Gemeinhart

“Once upon a time, it was hot and I was sweaty. It was about five months before my thirteenth birthday, give or take. We were someplace in Oregon. Honestly, I don’t even remember the name of the town, but I know it was on the dry, hot side of the state, away from the ocean.”

Example 3 where John D. MacDonald gives his main character, Travis McGee, so many opinions to share in present tense that I had a hard time deciding which one to pick.

The Deep Blue Good-By by John D. MacDonald

“The next morning, after making laundry arrangements, I untethered my bike and pedaled to the garage where I keep Miss Agnes sheltered from brine and sun. She needs tender loving care in her declining years. I believe she is the only Rolls Royce in America which has been converted into a pickup truck.”

Example 4 from an American classic.

The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain

“After supper she got out her book and learned me about Moses and the Bulrushers, and I was in a sweat to find out all about him; but by and by she let it out that Moses had been dead a considerable long time; so then I didn’t care no more about him, because I don’t take no stock in dead people.”

And finally, Example 5 from our own JSB.

Romeo’s Justice by James Scott Bell

“Which is why I owed her that blasted thing called honesty. I never want Sophie to have any illusions about this piece of work called Romeo.”

So, there you have it. Examples of past and present tense, each within one paragraph, and all from masters of writing. Novl.org has a nice summation:

“We use tenses every day naturally as part of speech. While consistency is key when maintaining narrative voice, it’s important to remember that you can play around with tense for interesting narrative effect. Whatever you do, just make sure you choose the option that best serves your story.”

“Whatever you do, just make sure you choose the option that best serves your story.” I like that.

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So TKZers: Do you write in first person? Have you noticed the use of both past and present tense in first person narratives? Will the two tenses work in third person? Any reflections on the examples above? 

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Private pilot Cassie Deakin offers a first-person opinion right from the get-go in Lacey’s Star:
“I do not like handsome men… Like the one sitting in the passenger seat of my Cessna 172 while I did the run-up prior to takeoff. Frank White.” 

Buy on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Google Play, or Apple Books.

Emotional Trigger Words + The Id

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A trigger word is a word that evokes a strong emotional reaction to compel someone to act. The reaction could be anything from clicking an article, opening an email, or buying a product. Like with most things in life, we don’t want to abuse trigger words. If used ethically, trigger words can help our books/newsletters/blog/articles reach a wider audience.

How are Emotional Triggers Formed?

The same way we trigger emotion in readers—tickle the senses. Some of our most powerful memories include the smell, sound, or taste of certain things when associated with a positive or negative connotation. But trigger words work differently.

All decisions made by us or others consist of multiple conscious and subconscious emotions. By delving into the psychology behind human behavior, we can increase sales and visibility.

4 Emotional Triggers

#1) Belonging

It’s human nature to want to belong to something. The writing community, a family, book clubs, critique groups, a religious organization, or other social groups. Giving people a sense of belonging works remarkably well. For example, I write “join my community” rather than “subscribe (which has a negative connotation) to my newsletter.” That little tweak makes a huge difference in how the message is received.

Trigger words for belonging

  • Community
  • Join
  • Become a member
  • Mutual
  • We
  • Together
  • Society
  • Neighborhood

#2) Fear

I can’t see why authors would want to use a fear tactic, but it’s listed as a marketing ploy. Though you could use fear triggers as keywords or in a book description.

Trigger words for fear

  • Worry
  • Anxiety
  • Concern
  • Terror
  • Death
  • Toxic
  • Mistake
  • Embarrassed
  • Nightmare
  • Doubt
  • Phobia
  • Horrific
  • Disastrous
  • Plummet
  • Warning
  • Danger
  • Looming
  • Shattered

#3) Guilt

Guilt is a powerful emotion, right? Charity organizations overuse this tactic. For us, triggering a guilt response would not be an effective way to market books. But we can use the trigger words in book descriptions or as keywords/key phrases for better targeting.

Trigger words for guilt

  • Goodwill
  • Humane
  • Disgrace
  • Shame
  • Disgusting
  • Charity
  • Donation
  • Mercy
  • Kindness
  • Empathy
  • Generosity
  • Compassion
  • Bleed for
  • Sympathize with
  • Feel for
  • Grief
  • Sorrow
  • Understand

#4) Trust

Trust is important for building a long-term business. When readers trust you to deliver the same quality in each book, article, or newsletter, you’ll build a loyal audience. Don’t try to fake this emotion, or it’ll backfire.

A few ways to show you’re trustworthy

  • Be transparent
  • Display reviews from other readers
  • Be genuine
  • Show you’re human, not perfect

In one newsletter, I wrote, “I have no words of wisdom for you today. The well is dry. I left all my emotions on the page.” I never once tried to fake it. And y’know what? I received the sweetest responses. Being emotionally spent is something we’ve all experienced, so we relate. We empathize.

Trigger words for trust

  • Caring
  • Fair treatment
  • Quality
  • Competency
  • Apologize
  • Sorry
  • Change
  • Never
  • Always
  • Privacy

The Pleasure Principle

In Sigmund Freud’s psychoanalysis, he described the pleasure principle as the instinctual force that motivates people to seek pleasure, to satisfy biological and psychological needs, and to avoid pain. The id resides in a primitive part of the psyche and is the only part of the personality that’s present at birth. Which explains the terrible twos. The ego doesn’t develop till age three or four.

Three major components of personality

  • The id – impulsive part of one’s personality that is driven by pleasure and repulsed by pain
  • Ego – conscious part of one’s personality that mediates between the id and superego and makes decisions
  • Superego – judgmental and morally correct part of one’s personality

Freud conceived the id as the unconscious mind’s primary source of motivation for all human behavior, from basic wants and needs (think: hunger and thirst) to emotional expression, impulses (think: aggression), and sexual desires. The id acts according to the pleasure principle — it seeks to fulfill its needs and desires in any way possible while avoiding pain or discomfort.

We live in a world of immediate gratification. No longer do we need to wait for the stores to stock a new album or novel. We can download it in seconds.

Can you guess how social media might affect the balance of the three components of personality? Likes, comments, and shares feed the id while making it difficult for the ego to mediate the feud with the superego. Hence why some people feel the need to condemn others and cast judgment.

TKZers, have you considered using psychology in your marketing? Do you use trigger words in book descriptions, keywords, and/or marketing?

Please note: I’ll be on the road today and will respond to comments later this afternoon. Hope you all have a fabulous day!

Running and Writing
  and the Marathon

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Come what may, all bad fortune is to be conquered by endurance.  –Virgil

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Writing a novel is often compared to running a marathon, and my experience dealing with the unexpected in the London Marathon in April 2010 was a good rehearsal for my later efforts in writing.

I’ve never been a good marathon runner. I’m better suited for the half-marathon. But in 2009, having completed three marathons (San Antonio, Vancouver, and Toronto), I decided I’d go for just one more. And I wanted to run one of the big marathons for that once-in-a-lifetime experience.

I told my husband I’d like to celebrate our anniversary in 2010 with a trip to the UK where I would run the London Marathon in honor of our marriage. Then we could spend a week or so vacationing. Frank was supportive, and for some unknown reason, I was convinced everything would go my way.

Hmm.

The major marathons are so popular that they can’t admit everyone who wants to enter. If you’re a very good runner and can meet the qualifying time for your age group, you’ll be entered. But if you’re like most runners (me, for instance) and can’t meet the qualifying time, they’ll put your name into a lottery and it’s just a matter of chance.

So when they opened the online registration in April 2009, I jumped in and registered along with 150,000 other runners. Although only about a quarter of those would get places, I was ridiculously confident. Around October, I received an email from the London Marathon notifying me that I wasn’t chosen. Rats.

But they held out another possibility. I could run for a charity. “That’s even better,” I thought. I could do a good deed as well as run the marathon. So I applied to several of the charities that I thought I’d like to support, and a few weeks later, one of them called. With about four months to go, I had cleared the first hurdle. I was in the race.

I was sure that from then on everything would be smooth sailing. (You can smile now.)

My running buddies at work were all excited that I was going to run the London, and that made me even more determined to do well. When they asked what kind of time I was planning on, I spouted off a near-impossible-for-me number. But if everything went perfectly, maybe I could make it.

Everything did not go perfectly.

  • Our treadmill, on which I was doing almost half of my training, broke. We needed a new one anyway, so we bought a bigger, better model. A few days of training lost.
  • I injured my knee in a tempo run. A couple of weeks of training lost.

I had stumbled over those first hurdles, but my excitement continued to ramp up as the days ticked closer to the race. Since I suffer from jetlag on international trips, we planned to fly to London six days prior to the marathon to allow my body to adjust to the time change before the race. But then…disaster.

  • A few days before our scheduled departure, I woke up to the news that a volcano in Iceland had erupted, volcanic ash was drifting over western Europe, and airports were closing. Heathrow was one of them. Our flight was cancelled.

You can overcome a lot of obstacles. But a volcano? Time to throw in the towel.

But then the winds shifted, and airports reopened. We managed to get on a flight that put us in London in the early morning hours of Friday before Sunday’s race day. Okay, so my jetlag would be a problem, but the excitement of the race would probably overcome that. (Are you laughing yet?)

I dragged myself out of bed on race day after just a few hours of sleep to discover there were more obstacles: the weather was warm (not good) and it was drizzling rain (super not good). Frank and I agreed on where we’d meet after the race, and he walked me to the starting area to join the other thirty-seven thousand people who had paid perfectly good money to punish their bodies for 26.2 miles.

But at least I had made it to the starting line. Now all I had to do was finish.

The London Marathon is unique. It’s a big party, and many of the marathoners wear costumes. One guy was dressed in a full suit of armor and someone else was carrying a huge replica of the Angel of the North sculpture on his back.

As time ticked down to the start, you could feel the buzz in the air. After an entire year of waiting, hoping, training, and planning, the starter’s pistol fired, and we were off.

I wish I could say everything went well.

  • For the first time ever, my GPS watch malfunctioned. Bad omen.
  • Another first: I got a side stitch. At least now I can describe in a book what it feels like to be stabbed just below the ribs.
  • As the miles went on, fatigue set in, and I realized I was getting a blister on one of my heels.
  • By the time I got to the eighteen-mile mark, I was starving. I guess the time change had messed up my body clock. Honestly, if I had seen a child holding a sandwich by the side of the course, I probably would have snatched it out of the kid’s hand and run away before anyone could catch me. But there were no sandwiches, my back and foot hurt, and I was run-walking so slow that I knew I was going to turn in a terrible time.

* * *

That’s when I had THE THOUGHT. I could quit. I could just step off the course, find a volunteer to give me a cart-ride to the finish, and it would be over. I wouldn’t suffer the embarrassment of a poor showing. I’d just tell everybody I was injured and couldn’t finish. I could bandage my foot and take an Advil and eat a steak dinner and forget this stupid marathon. The whole thing was wrong from the start. Why hadn’t I seen that? Why did I have to be so stubborn when there were just too many problems to overcome?

That little exercise in self-pity and frustration got me through the next mile or two. Then I had the SECOND THOUGHT. I would cross the finish line even if I had to crawl. Even if I was the last person across. Even if they had taken down the banners and all the volunteers had gone home and I didn’t get a medal or a T-shirt. Even if my feet were bleeding so profusely that I was leaving a trail of blood behind me on the course. (Self-martyrdom can be useful in certain situations.)

And I knew no matter how long it took, Frank would be waiting for me, and I knew exactly what he’d say when he saw me. After all, this was the race to honor our marriage, not to show off my great (ha!) running talent.

Those reflections got me through another mile or two, and then I was within just a few miles of the finish, so it didn’t make sense to quit.

I crossed the finish line. I didn’t crawl, and I wasn’t the last person in the race. There were still a couple of thousand people behind me, including angel sculpture man and the guy in the suit of armor. A volunteer hung a medal around my neck and someone else handed me a T-shirt that said “LonDONE 25.04.10.” Then I walked into the meeting area and saw Frank waving. As I limped toward him with my hair frizzy from the rain and my clothes damp with sweat, he jogged over and put his arm around me. “Great race, honey.”

* * *

So yeah. Writing a novel, especially a first one, is a lot like running a marathon. You start out with all this enthusiasm and confidence, but then things get hard, much harder than you thought. There are unexpected challenges, and it’s discouraging when agents and publishers don’t immediately see your genius and rush to sign you to a life-long contract.

That’s when many people give up. They hit the wall and decide it’s not worth all the pain and disappointment. According to selfpublishingus.com, only about 3% of people who start writing a book actually finish it. And of those, even fewer have their book published. But for those of us who stay in the race, there’s a satisfaction of accomplishment few have known.

I learned some lessons from the London Marathon that I believe apply to my writing.

  • Life (and running and writing) is more about what you put into it than what you get out.
  • It’s more about fighting the good fight than winning.
  • It’s more about the journey than the destination.
  • You value what you earn more than what someone gives you.

And in the long run (pun intended), whether it’s running or writing or living, endurance is more important than talent.

* * *

 

This has been a very long TKZ blog post, and if you made it to the end, you deserve a medal. Maybe you should consider running a marathon.

 

 

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So TKZers: Have you ever run a marathon?
Have you faced obstacles when writing your books?
How do you deal with the setbacks?

* * *

 

Kathryn Frasier is training for her first marathon, but murderers keep getting in her way.

Run with Kathryn in The Watch Mysteries. The ebook boxset is on sale at  Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Google Play, or Apple Books.

How Did I Get Here?

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With Memorial Day upon us, many folks will be on the road, listening to music or daydreaming while stuck in traffic. Nothing at all interesting about it. Though we want our stories to mimic real life, showing every moment or mile gets boring and repetitive fast.

My characters are constantly on the move. If I showed the entire drive, boat ride, or flight, I’d destroy the pacing. Instead, move characters from point A to B by skipping the boring parts.

via GIPHY
When we jump ahead, tell the reader how much time has passed.

Nothing is more jarring than a character at home one minute and in the next paragraph they’re in a new location with no explanation of how they got there. Ground the reader in the first sentence. Or at least, in the first paragraph. Some writers include a scene break between paragraphs — either white space or *** — but that still does not absolve us from orienting the reader.

Show the characters getting into the car. Add a few lines of plot-related dialogue or trees zip past the window to show movement. And boom, they arrive at their new destination. Or, if nothing interesting happens, write something like…

Forty grueling minutes later without air conditioner, I arrived at the hotel with a wet scalp and my t-shirt molded to my chest.

A new chapter signals a time or POV change and/or a new setting.

It’s fine to speed past uneventful stretches in a story. In fact, it’s encouraged. Just be sure to give the reader a sense of how much time has lapsed, especially at the start of a new chapter. Even if we include a timestamp, we should still mention it as many readers will only recall whether the previous chapter took place during daylight or darkness.

Don’t make them have to backtrack to guess where or when the chapter begins.

If the action continues from the previous chapter, it’s still a good idea to set the scene with a brief mention of any time gaps or sensory cue to ground the reader. It doesn’t have to be complicated. “A few hours later” does the trick.

Establish who is present in every scene.

Nothing irks me more than a character appearing out of nowhere to offer a clue when they weren’t in the scene earlier. Too convenient. And frankly, obvious and lazy.

Again, adding a character to a scene needn’t be complicated…

The screen door slapped open, and Jack strolled out to the porch.

Now the reader knows he’s there, so when he offers that all-important clue, it makes sense within the scene.

Change in POV

As a reader and a writer, I don’t understand the fad of including the POV character’s name at the top of each chapter. In my opinion, it’s unnecessary. If we ground the reader in the character’s POV right away, they should know whose head they’re in without a label. If they don’t, then we’ve failed to set the scene. I prefer rotating POVs. They’re easy to follow and add to the overall rhythm of the story.

If you want to include the POV character’s name as a chapter heading, then by all means do so. It’s your story.

The main takeaway for this post is to orient the reader, whether the characters are on the move or we switch to a new POV.

For writers: How do you handle travel or signal a change in POV?

For readers: Have you ever been jarred out of a story due to a change in space or time?

Happy Memorial Day to TKZers in the U.S.!

Clerihew, Haiku, and You

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A word fitly spoken
    is like apples of gold in a setting of silver.

–Proverbs 25:11

* * *

A few months ago, James Scott Bell posted Micro Fiction for Your Writer’s Brain on TKZ. It was about writing fiction that was less than 500 words long. (I’ll wait while you go back and review.)

That post gave me an idea for writing about even shorter form fiction, and I came across a few types that are both fun and challenging.

The Clerihew

The clerihew is a form of poetry that was invented by E.C. Bentley, the author of Trent’s Last Case and other novels. Bentley’s full name happens to be Edmund Clerihew Bentley. I guess when you have a middle name like Clerihew, you may as well come up with some clever and inventive use of it.

Here’s the definition of clerihew from Wikipedia:

A clerihew (ˈklɛrɪhjuː) is a whimsical, four-line biographical poem of a type invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley. The first line is the name of the poem’s subject, usually a famous person, and the remainder puts the subject in an absurd light or reveals something unknown or spurious about the subject. The rhyme scheme is AABB, and the rhymes are often forced. The line length and metre are irregular. Bentley invented the clerihew in school and then popularized it in books.

Here are a couple of examples:

Sir Humphry Davy
Abominated gravy.
He lived in the odium
Of having discovered sodium.

Did Descartes
Depart
With the thought
“Therefore I’m not”?

Here’s my humble attempt:

Albert Einstein
Had a very great mind
While in his prime
He relativized time

* * *

The Haiku

Back in 2021, Steve Hooley and his sister, Joyce, wrote a wonderful TKZ post on haiku poetry.

Dictionary.com defines haiku as

a major form of Japanese verse, written in 17 syllables divided into 3 lines of 5, 7, and 5 syllables, and employing highly evocative allusions and comparisons, often on the subject of nature or one of the seasons.

Here are a couple of rather famous ones:

“A Caterpillar” by Matsuo Basho

A caterpillar,
This deep in fall –
Still not a butterfly.

 

“A Poppy Blooms” by Katsushika Hokusai

I write, erase, rewrite
Erase again, and then
A poppy blooms.

 

And another one by me:

Azalea blossoms
Pink, but ragged on the edge
Tomorrow’s lovers

* * *

The Limerick

Here’s what Britannica.com has to say about this poetic form:

Limerick, a popular form of short, humorous verse that is often nonsensical and frequently ribald. It consists of five lines, rhyming aabba, and the dominant metre is anapestic, with two metrical feet in the third and fourth lines and three feet in the others. The origin of the limerick is unknown, but it has been suggested that the name derives from the chorus of an 18th-century Irish soldiers’ song, “Will You Come Up to Limerick?” To this were added impromptu verses crowded with improbable incident and subtle innuendo.

 

Here’s a non-ribald example.

A tutor who taught on the flute
Tried to teach two tooters to toot.
Said the two to the tutor,
“Is it harder to toot, or
To tutor two tooters to toot?”

Personally, I love limericks. I occasionally compose one in honor of politicians or other strange creatures.  😎 I won’t share any of those, but here’s one I made up just for today:

My computer decided to die
Just as the deadline drew nigh
When the publisher screamed
I knew I was creamed
So I kissed my contract good-bye

* * *

So TKZers: What do you think about these poetic short forms? Pick one or two (or all three) and astound us by entering your work in the comments. Include something in your poem about one of your books if you’re so inclined.

* * *

There once was a pilot named Cassie
An intrepid sleuth was this lassie
She flew into danger,
But it didn’t change her
And she found the murderer fastly.

A 2024 Eric Hoffer Grand Prize Award Finalist

Buy on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Google Play, or Apple Books.

One Word Holds Power

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Have you ever received a text from a family member or close friend and knew something was wrong even though the words indicated the opposite?

I’ll show you what I mean with a real-life example.

The Kid planned to drive up to deliver ducks to the couple who lives at the top of our mountain, off-the-grid in a year-round camp surrounded by tall pines, oak, birch, and maple trees. By 10 a.m. that morning, we still hadn’t heard from The Kid, which is unusual. He’s always been an early riser.

So, I shot him a text. “Still planning to come up today?”

Several minutes dragged by before he responded. “Yes.”

My intuition tapped me on the shoulder. Something’s wrong. He never responds with one word. Besides, a simple yes didn’t give me enough information. If he brought all three grandkids, I would need to plan to feed six rather than three.

Plus, I let my little fur-babies run around my office during the day, but our grandchildren have a habit of leaving doors open. So, when they visit, it’s safer to leave them in their guinea pig habitat.

I texted back, “The Joe and the chicks coming, too?”

Another long pause. “Just The Joe.”

“You okay? You sound… I dunno… off.”

The Kid knows I’m tuned into him. Over the years I’ve learned to trust my intuition, and it has never failed me. Lying would be pointless.

“I was chasing ducks.”

“Okay, cool,” I texted, but something told me “chasing ducks” wasn’t the full story. Regardless, I didn’t want to push the issue via text. “I get the feeling you won’t be staying long.”

“We can stay for a bit.” The five-minute pause seemed to last twenty. “The longer the better. LOL”

And there it was—the first hint of the real reason he seemed off. Which he’d spill in person. It’s much harder to hide behind a false façade while staring into a concerned parent’s eyes. Though I’d never want to come across as pushy—he is a grown man, after all—I can’t take it when my kid is hurting. I don’t care how old he is. I’ll always be fiercely protective of his beautiful heart.

I do have a point to all this.

With that one simple word—Yes—I, the reader, knew to pay attention. That yes held power. That yes held unlimited power, more powerful than if he’d written an entire paragraph.

Writers should do the same. It’s a simple but effective way to add tension to a scene, cause a disturbance, and cue the reader to pay attention. The one-word, staccato sentence is a tool used for emphasis.

Run. Now.

It’s short and to the point. It calls attention to itself and exploits a reader’s emotions. Varying sentence structure holds a reader’s attention.

The following example looks like an exaggeration, but I once had to critique the first few pages of a novel written just like it.

As he stared at me, I could not look away. As I moved around the room, his stare held me hostage. As he moved closer, I told him to stop. As I backed away, he kept coming.

Every sentence began with “As” for three, never-ending pages. Not only is it grueling and repetitive, it’s annoying to read.

Rewrite:

His wolf-like stare held me hostage. Stop. Please stop. He moved closer. I backed away. Dear God, no. Not again. My spine hit the wall, my fingers searching behind me for the doorframe.

See how much more immediate the second example sounds? We don’t want to overdo it, but nothing can replace a well-placed staccato sentence here and there.

Writers have access to a plethora of writing tips, but it’s important not to overlook simple ways to hone our craft, like the act of reading and sentence structure.

Thoughts? Let’s discuss. 

 

Warriors battle a ruthless animal trafficking ring in Yellowstone. They will protect the sacred lineage of American Buffalo by any means necessary.

Even murder.

Download a sample on Amazon

 

The Art of Darkness

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“Creativity – like human life itself – begins in darkness.” –Julia Cameron

* * *

April 8, 2024  The date of the great eclipse when a wide swath of the United States will be darkened as the sun and moon perform a heavenly pas de deux.

Memphis will see only a 98% covering, so my husband and I plan to travel with some friends to Arkansas to experience the full beauty of the show.

This will not be the first time we’ve observed a total eclipse. Way back in 1970, there was a total eclipse in my hometown of Savannah, Ga. I remember the experience well, but not for the reason you may think.

Unfortunately, the day was cloudy, but as the moon moved between the Earth and the sun, the clouds would occasionally break and give us a series of snapshots of the phenomenon. When the moment of totality arrived, the clouds once again opened, and we saw the black disk, then the bright flash of light as the moon moved on to continue its course. But that still wasn’t what astonished me.

It was the darkness.

Standing on the front lawn of my parents’ home, I looked down the street and saw a wall of black shadow racing toward us. It wasn’t like a cloud that covered the sun. It was a dark, menacing presence, rushing forward to devour the light in its path until it overtook us, and suddenly all was night.

Even though we understood what was happening, I had a sense of primordial awe that I have never forgotten.

* * *

Authors of mystery, suspense, and thrillers are well acquainted with darkness. It’s a symbol of the unknown, and that usually means fear, anxiety, loneliness, or panic will grip the main character and get the reader’s heart pumping a little harder.

“All great and beautiful work has come of first gazing without shrinking into the darkness.” –John Ruskin

A character walks out into a black night and senses a presence that he can’t see, or comes face-to-face with his own demons in the dark night of the soul when all appears lost. That heart-stopping look into the abyss rivets the attention and keeps the reader turning pages.

Here are a few examples.

 

* * *

We probably all studied Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven in high school. Fear and doubt consume the poet as he contemplates his own loneliness late at night. Then he hears a sound and thinks it’s a visitor knocking. He opens the door and sees … nothing.

 

“Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.”

 

The murky setting on the moors gave Arthur Conan Doyle’s The Hound of the Baskervilles a sense of mystery and foreboding. 

“As if in answer to his words there rose suddenly out of the vast gloom of the moor that strange cry which I had already heard upon the borders of the great Grimpen Mire. It came with the wind through the silence of the night, a long, deep mutter, then a rising howl, and then the sad moan in which it died away. Again and again it sounded, the whole air throbbing with it, strident, wild, and menacing. The baronet caught my sleeve and his face glimmered white through the darkness. ‘My God, what’s that, Watson?’”

 

A sense of impending doom in Dean Koontz’s Midnight builds as a woman goes for a run on the beach in the middle of the night.

“Suddenly, as she was passing a pair of forty-foot, twisted cypresses that had grown in the middle of the beach, halfway between the hills and the waterline, Janice was sure she was not alone in the night and fog. She saw no movement, and she was unaware of any sound other than her own footsteps, raspy breathing, and thudding heartbeat; only instinct told her that she had company.”

 

Last week Kris introduced us to the Edgar finalists in her post. The first sentence of All the Sinners Bleed by S.A. Cosby hints of a violent past returning to haunt a small town.

“Charon County was founded in bloodshed and darkness.”

* * *

 

So, TKZers, there you have it. The Art of Darkness. How do you represent darkness in your books? Do you have any examples from the works of others that illustrate either physical or metaphorical darkness? Have you ever seen a total eclipse of the sun?

* * *

I don’t know how much access I’ll have to TKZ during the day, but I’ll respond to comments whenever I can.

 

“Character, like a photograph, develops in  darkness.” –Yousuf Karsh

Private pilot Cassie Deakin has a lot of opportunity to develop character while she hunts a killer.

Buy on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, Kobo, Google Play, or Apple Books.