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Fresh Starts

So I’m almost to that 100 page mark in starting a new book….magic number 100. Goes with 1, the number of fresh starts, and 1000…which has to be the number of too long a book since the editor’s going to chop it bloody (or make it a trilogy).

Anyway, folks are showing up, voices are coming along, story’s developing, a few surprises have popped up (thank god — that always makes me feel better when a story goes from no heat to low simmer). So I think there’s a book here. Not sure, yet, actually, but it’s past those early pages when the whole thing can collapse like a souffle since there’s no light structure to hold it up.

What I’ve found is that one chapter is an idea. Three chapters is a good start. Five or six and it’s cooking with gas, and there may be a book here.

And, of course, I’m also at that stage where I think the start of a story is the hardest. What do you need for the reader to get into the story, what’s too much, is a good plot twist or one that’s going to come bite me later, or…? Well, this is what a reader’s for, to sort through the story with fresh eyes.

So, with Act 2 looming (also thank god), I can start to get ready for the stage where I think the middle of a book is the worst part. Is there enough tension, how do I get more conflict in there, what’s a really good twist that’s not going to take the poor thing’s head off, and is this foreshadowing or just beating the reader over the head, and how do I get another sexy scene in there…? Also all stuff for a reader to sort out.

The ends never feel tough to write–by then it’s a rock rolling downhill (one hopes). But the worry doesn’t stop. Did I foreshadow this, did I not foreshadow that, oh, hell, this person now is talking the way they should have in chapter one, and am I wrapping up that great scene that set up one of the main subplots, and…? This is the place where the book gets a couple of weeks resting–like good bread, which you hope will rise after you’ve beaten your knuckles flat on it.

But no rest for now….it’s gone from picking at the pages to needing to get my hands on them every day (also a good sign). It’ll be even better when I start dreaming about it, or can’t go to sleep due to the conversations in my head.

And I still feel as if starts really are the hardest things to get right–so much depends on a good start for the story (including if someone will buy the thing).

April Online Workshop

I’m doing the Show & Tellworkshop online again for OCC–not sure it’s good that this seems to be a perennial favorite. However, I took a year off from giving this workshop, and that was good–time always gives perspective (and new things to say).

The interesting thing about this workshop is that most folks get how to “tell” a story, but don’t get that good “telling” takes as much work to craft beautiful prose as does good “showing” (or action).  In fact, I sometimes think a beautiful narrative passage is even more work.  This is a difficult concept to teach, because, it’s like music–you have an ear for it (language or music) or you don’t.  If you don’t there’s no teaching it.

It’s also interesting in that so many writers are hung up on having been told to show more that that’s all they want to focus on.  And the real trick to learn is not just to show, but to show the RIGHT things.  It’s not the details, the actions, that make a character–it’s the right actions.

The other interesting thing will be to see what mix is in the workshop.  There are always more than a few lurkers, which is cool, but it’s not like a classroom where you can look at the quiet ones and know which ones get it and which ones are struggling.  There are a few teacher’s pets who do every assignment and ask tons of questions but I sometimes have the feeling they’re too focused on doing it ‘right’ and that can defeat the point of learning.  There are the difficult ones, because email as a form of communication can leave much to be desired, and sometimes I wonder why these folks signed up for anything since they just seem to want to do things their ways. And then there are the surprises. That’s the best part of any workshop. We’ll see what this one brings.

Bad at Plotting ?

I’ve heard some writers will say, “I’m so bad at plotting.” This baffles me, and I’m not sure that it’s true–not when those writers are selling books (good books). So maybe it’s more that they plot by instinct, or just aren’t aware of their own process. (Or don’t want to be aware–that awareness can bring its own issues of freezing and change to the process.) Because saying ‘I can’t plot a story’ is a lot like saying, ‘I can’t tell a story’ — and if that’s the case, that work is not going to sell.

So it got me thinking and looking up definitions.

Elements of Fiction’s definition is a strong, clear one: “Plot refers to the series of events that give a story its meaning and effect… these events arise out of conflict experienced by the main character. The conflict may come from something external…or it may stem from an internal issue. As the character makes choices and tries to resolve the problem, the story’s action is shaped and plot is generated.”
Elements goes on to talk about rising action, complications, climax, as in:

“conflict: The basic tension, predicament, or challenge that propels a story’s plot.

“complications: Plot events that plunge the protagonist further into conflict rising action: The part of a plot in which the drama intensifies, rising toward the climax.

“climax: The plot’s most dramatic and revealing moment, usually the (main) turning point of the story falling action: The part of the plot after the climax, when the drama subsides and the conflict is resolved.”

In other words, that’s the basics of story telling. So now I’m wondering if it’s just that we don’t really teach story telling. And is this an issue for folks who may lack story telling instincts, but who still have the desire to write?

Aristotle’s elements used to be around in school, with the whole plot (or mythos) as the source and soul of what he defined as “tragedy” and what we call drama. He then put in as priorities, in this order, character (ethe), thought (dianonia) or ideas behind or within the story, and language (lexis–and, no, that’s not the car). Then there’s music and stagecraft, since he was talking about plays.

There’s more from Ari about how the plot has to be part of the entire story, with a clear beginning, middle, and end. Good plots should “neither begin nor end haphazardly.” You know it’s a good plot if you cannot take anything out without causing major problems.

All of this seems so basic as to not even need to be covered, but I wonder if that’s the problem. If basics are not taught, then stories will have fundamental, basic mistakes, and this–more even than poor writing–is at the heart of most stories that are rejected. At least, it’s the biggest issue in the writing I’ve seen of late, where the writing is good, but the story telling–the plot–is so weak that it couldn’t hold up a tissue.

Or maybe it’s due to so many folks wanting to be writers, but not being good readers? And by ‘good’ I mean someone who reads with an eye towards story and plot and character (and taking apart another writer’s craft to see how they pulled off their magic).

But books can get by with implausibe or even dumb plots if the characters are really, really great. And I do think a lot of writers let the characters do the plotting, since as noted above, plot comes out of presenting characters with choices (perferably tough ones), and the choices those characters make. But too many novice writers seem to make the mistake of forcing a choice onto a character to get the plot they want–and that never works.

Or compelling action can trick a reader into not noticing until later any whopping plot holes–lord knows, movies do that all the time these days with the distraction of cool, and even cooler, special effects.

But I still think any writer is betting off knowing when you’re making basic mistakes–meaning knowing about plot, and being aware of the process of creating a plot. Awareness can change a process, but that means it can also make it better. On the other hand, if your writing process works, no matter what it is, why tinker with success? It’s the stuff that’s not working that needs to be fixed.

Characters and Contests and Stories–oh, my

Been doing the contest reading thing, and have to say, people–writing skills are good, but story telling skills?  Bleh.  Are all the writing classes/workshops out there focused on technique, and not how to build a story (as in how to build solid characters)?

Two biggest mistakes I’m seeing on a regular basis is that folks seem to mistake backstory for characterization.  People, backstory is what happened to someone.  Characterization is how a person deals with, or has dealt, with those happenings–it’s their innate ticks that make them unique.  You can have two people both with the same event in their past–and you’ll get two different reactions.  But what I’m reading mostly just has characters shoved through a plot.  Not good.  And that brings up the other big mistake–plot needs to come from characters, folks.  If you make up events and throw them at your characters, the characters need to react ‘in character’.  If they don’t, plot comes across as ‘contrived’ — it feels made up.

And, yes, I know–fiction is made up.  But this is a magic act, people.  Story telling gives the illusion of real people. Fake people have to be more internally consistent, more structured, more real than real people ever are, or the illusion doesn’t work.

So–is this not being taught anywhere?  Are we producing people with writing skills, but no story telling skills?  I have to say, I’d much rather be bitching about untangling sentences, or making paragraphs make sense, or even adding tension to a scene, or how to punch dialogue–those are all common enough mistakes, but that’s craft you can learn.  Or is this the thing you really can’t teach?  Is this something you figure out on your own, the skill that isn’t a skill, but is a knack or a gift, or is something that you have or don’t?