But My Reader Needs to Know!

March 6, 2014 by Valerie Comer

You’re sitting there minding your own business, watching your kid play hockey, or soccer, or whatever sport is popular in your area. A stranger slides into the bleachers next to you. You spare her a glance, but your focus is on your kid’s game. Do you care about the newcomer? Not really.

She grabs your arm. “I love hockey. They put me in hockey before I could even skate because in my family, everyone plays hockey. Boys, girls, didn’t matter. My uncle played—”

Do you care yet? I doubt it. You’re shrugging her hand off your arm and looking for a vacant seat, right? Why?

You don’t care about her childhood. You don’t care about her uncle or anyone else in her family. The only thing you care about at the moment is your kid playing hockey.

How could this stranger be more interesting to you?

She slides in and points at the game. “That’s my kid. Yours playing?”

You nod and provide the jersey number.

“He’s really good. Wow, look at that move! Nearly got a goal.” Then she starts shouting encouragement at your kid as well as her own.

Things are looking up. Maybe after a few games, you’ll look for this woman because you want to sit by her. You might share a snack or a tissue. You might find yourself growing a friendship where, yes, you’ll care that she played hockey herself as a child.

The difference is that the relationship started with a mutual interest and then evolved to where all that backstory is fascinating. That doesn’t mean you want to sit through hours of her old home movies, though!

Now look at the first few chapters of your WIP (work-in-progress). Do you start out with background because you’re sure the reader needs to know? Do you feel the need to explain how the character got to this point? How her uncle playing hockey matters at the moment?

It’s an easy trap to fall into. We don’t want the readers lost, confused, or uninterested, after all. But is starting with the foundation really the best way to hook a reader into a story?

Gone are the days of old classics like Moby Dick or even Pride and Prejudice, which at least has a fair bit of dialogue early on as well as the explanation of characters. Today’s authors are competing, not only with other books, but with TV, video games, movies, and many other forms of entertainment in our fast-paced world. This means you don’t have the luxury of meandering your way to your story’s beginning.

Ask yourself, “Where does the story begin?” That is, what is the inciting incident that propels the character from the old normal to the new normal? What’s the pivot point that sets life in its new direction?

Tweetables

How much does your reader need to know at the beginning of a story? click to tweet
Avoid the dreaded #infodump! click to tweet

You don’t have to start with an explosion, the discovery of a dead body, or a kidnapping. Any of those might be perfect in a thriller or suspense context, but not necessarily elsewhere.

In my romance novels, I look for the first meeting for the hero and heroine. In Raspberries and Vinegar, they meet when Jo flings a dustpan full of baby mice out the door, not knowing Zach was about to knock. In Wild Mint Tea, I open with Claire going in for a job interview…and Noel doesn’t hire her because he’s so attracted to her he’s afraid he won’t be able to keep his mind on his work.

If the characters have met before, it’s the re-meeting that must be captured. In Snowflake Tiara, Marisa sees a poster that reminds her of her former modeling days when she hears Jase’s voice behind her. It was a challenge to keep from going back through their previous relationship and breakup in that scene. I needed to throw in enough clues to orientate the reader without slowing down the NOW of the story.

That’s always the challenge. Keep the story’s momentum moving forward with the bare amount of information needed to understand what’s going on. Dribble in the backstory in bits here and there. Avoid the dreaded “info-dump.”

Or should you? I often pour that information into the first scenes of my first draft, then carefully cull through it on rewrites. Sometimes I’ll already have discovered a more natural way to weave it into a subsequent chapter so can delete it here. Other times I’ll find it isn’t necessary at all. It’s hard to judge.

Readers are smarter than you think. They’ll pick up clues and enjoy making the connections. Often the not knowing is what helps to pull them through the story.

What is Your Story’s Opposing Force?

February 13, 2014 by Valerie Comer

What is your main character fighting against? What is your story’s opposing force?

Remember GMC? Each of your major characters needs a goal, a reason it matters to them (motivation), and something that stands in their way (conflict). Without conflict, there is no story.

Jim wanted a new guitar (goal) because his old one had been crushed in a car wreck and he loved to play (motivation) so he went and bought a new one. The end.

If nothing stands in Jim’s way, there isn’t a story. Conflict makes a story worth reading. It also can come in many forms, but it’s best if there’s one main conflict rather than a bunch of unrelated conflicts, which result in a series of anecdotes rather than a cohesive story with a plot.

At its very core, each story is one of the following:

1. Man against Nature (Please note that “man” is the universal mankind, not specific to gender in every one of these.)

This type of story usually entails surviving a force of nature, such as a fire, earthquake, tsunami, hurricane, tornado, blizzard, etc. Three stories in this group are Swiss Family Robinson, Moby Dick, and Lost in the Barrens. While in each case there is more to the story than a struggle for survival, that struggle forms the foundation of the plot, with other conflicts building upon it.

Still, if it’s nothing but surviving some immovable force, there’s not much to write about either. At the very least, this type of tale requires the character to dig deep inside himself for survival skills. Thus, a “man against nature” tale often also becomes a “man against himself” tale.

If writing a man versus nature novel, consider having more than one person involved in the struggle. This allows for dialogue, which goes a long way toward crating a riveting tale, and gives you a valuable tool for sharing backstory and other information.

2. Man against Himself

In this type of story, the main conflict is between the main character and him/herself. If you’ve read my article on plotting via GMC, you’ll know that each story needs an internal goal/motivation/conflict as well as external. Therefore, every well-written tale has an element of man against himself in it, at least if the character learns, grows, and develops through the story. (In some series, the detective merely solves the mysteries with his superior intellect and doesn’t battle himself. Think Sherlock Holmes.)

In my opinion, a man against himself story is best woven in as a subplot. Otherwise it’s too easy to write page after page of navel-gazing—and the self-focused thoughts that accompany it.

3. Man against Society

Dystopians are a good example of a man against society story, but there are others that fit the parameters as well. In nearly every case, though, the story is strengthened by putting a face on society—one main character who acts in the best interests of the society and against our main character. While nature can’t have a human face (unless it’s fantasy), society can.

Tweetables

Is your character fighting against himself? Nature? Or what? click to tweet
What is your story’s opposing force? What’s your character’s main conflict against? click to tweet

4. Man against Man

This is where the majority of story lines fall, with one character pitted against another. Any genre can fit into this scenario, even romance. Maybe especially romance, where relationships are key.

When you’ve determined what your main character’s chief antagonist is—nature, himself, society, or another human—you’ve got the tools to crank up the conflict and ensure a solid plot. This doesn’t mean you can use only one of the four categories. Use them all! But know which is your main enemy and use the rest for seasoning.

What is a Scene?

January 30, 2014 by Valerie Comer

A scene is the largest useful building block of your novel, even though it is (generally) shorter than a chapter. Chapters are divided arbitrarily and include one scene or several. The end of a chapter’s chief use is for the reader to set the book down and do something else. Your goal, as a writer, is to make it nigh impossible for the reader to do that.

The key is to write in powerful scenes. A scene covers a happening in one place and time, and from one point of view. When I say “one place,” that doesn’t preclude a travel scene.

In How To Write Page-Turning Scenes, Holly Lisle says, “You have written a scene when something changes.” This means that the scene has a purpose for being in the story. It reveals something new about a character or about the plot. It isn’t simply a rehash of previously gained knowledge without a new revelation or angle.

When you imagine your story in advance, you’ll likely think up specific occurrences. You’ll envision how shocked the kayaker is when he paddles into a dead body after thinking the obstacle was a partially submerged log. You might feel his horror, hear his words, see the turbulent water, etc. This is part of a scene. Something certainly changed!

So step back a little and imagine what leads up to that discovery. Who’s the kayaker with? What are they talking about while they paddle? What’s the weather like? Don’t get too bogged down in those details, but know them. Start the action fairly quickly to keep your reader engaged. But think about more than the instant of discovery to what encompasses it. Now you have the makings of a complete scene. Make a note (the cork board in Scrivener is great), including where the scene takes place, who’s present, who’s POV it is, when it takes place, and 1-3 sentences to describe the kernel of action and change.

Tweetables

What is a scene in fiction, and how do you know when you’ve written one? click to tweet
A scene is the biggest useful building block in fiction writing. Learn the ins and outs here! click to tweet

Scenes can be nearly any length. As you get a bit of practice, you’ll get a feel for what’s comfortable for you. It may vary by point-of-view or even by novel. My scenes are usually 1300-1800 words long, with two to a chapter. Sometimes, especially when tension is ramping up at the book’s climax, scenes may get shorter with several to a chapter.

There isn’t a right or wrong, but knowing your scenes’ average word count is useful as you plot out your novel in advance of writing. If your genre’s sweet length is 90,000 words and you are writing scenes of about 1,000 words, you’ll need about 90 scenes in your list. If your projected length is 60,000 words and your average length is 1,500 words, you’ll be writing about 40 scenes. That’s a big difference!

Hooking the reader is just as important for each scene as it is for the beginning of the novel. How many times have you decided to close a book at the end of a scene or chapter, only to glance at the opening lines of the next one and get sucked right back in?

As an author, you have that power. Use it. Don’t take too long getting into the action. Start with something compelling and weave in the location, the internal thoughts, the 5 w’s (who what where why when) as you move forward. I often struggle with finding the best place to start (that’s the pantser in me), so I’ll ease in with setting and thoughts. As soon as I find the trigger point, I’ll delete what I’ve written so far in the scene and jump into the action.

Yes, your reader needs to know this scene takes place a week after the previous one and in a different city, but there are ways to weave the information into the first few sentences without saying, “A week later in Toronto…” Readers are smart. They like the challenge of catching hints, so long as they’re not too obscure.

A good rule is to use only one viewpoint per scene. Make it clear from the first sentence or two whose eyes we’re viewing this scene from then stick close. Choose the character who will be most challenged by the change you have in store for the scene. Include all the parts of a story that you can: dialogue, action, sensory input, thoughts, description…and always conflict.

Remember, a scene is a story unit that depicts change. What new revelation has erupted to make the reader turn the page?

If you’d like to study scene-writing in greater depth, I recommend Holly Lisle’s How To Write Page-Turning Scenes. It’s a workshop with exercises that will give you a solid handle on the topic. Yes, I’m an affiliate.

Image courtesy of stockimages / FreeDigitalPhotos.net

How to Pick the Perfect Title for Your Fiction

December 12, 2013 by Valerie Comer

At some point in the writing or editing of your story, you’ll need a title. Some writers need a good working title in place before the tale will click. Others might label the working files with the protagonist’s name and hope a title leaps out at them before they send queries or hit the publish button.

Some don’t care because they’ve heard the publisher always changes the title anyway. While it’s true they often do, a snappy title will catch their attention initially better than a humdrum title. And in this day of indie publishing, you’ll need to come up with a terrific title sooner or later anyway.

How to find a title:

Search the story for a phrase that pops out

Name the story from a ship or institution in the story

Put a spin on the story theme or mood

Mind-map all the words you can think of that relate to the story

Use a famous phrase or quote, but give it a twist

Choose strong, specific words

Look for phrases with double or deeper meanings

Host a brainstorming session with family, friends, or critique partners. Google hangouts can be great for this if you can’t do it in person.

When you’ve got a short list of potential titles, consider them against this checklist:

Does the title fits the genre and your writing style?

Is it as short and punchy as possible? Short titles are easier to tweet. They’re also more visible on the book cover, especially in thumbnail size on Amazon or in a catalogue.

Will it catch attention? If your book is lucky enough to be found on a shelf, it will probably be placed spine-out. All the hunter will see is the color, title, and your name. Will s/he pull the book out to have a closer look?

Are there other books with the same title? While titles can’t be copyrighted, you still don’t want to settle for a common one (harder to find you in a search) or duplicate a popular or classic title. Seek originality.

Does the title tell too much, giving the plot away? While romance novels and whodunnits have expectations for how the story ends, you may still not want to announce the details in the title.

Tweetables

Do you need a good title for fiction if the publisher will change it anyway? How do you pick one? click to tweet
Tips for picking the perfect title for your fiction! click to tweet

Remember: a nonfiction title needs to to tell the reader exactly which problem the book will solve. Fiction is much more subjective and round-about. You’re attempting to project an emotion rather than a solution.

Think you have some good ideas for a title? Just for fun, enter your best one into the Lulu Title Scorer to see if it’s got what it takes to become a bestseller! You can even put two titles head-to-head and see which one wins.

The Key to a Satisfying Ending: The Story Promise

September 26, 2013 by Valerie Comer

In the early paragraphs of your story, you’re sending a message to the reader of what type of tale she can expect to find throughout.

Author of Beginnings, Middles, & Ends Nancy Kress devotes several pages to this important discussion. She calls it the implicit promise. As a writer, you need to know what promises you’re making to your reader, both emotionally (feeling) and intellectually (thinking).

The emotional promise says: “Read this and you’ll be entertained, or thrilled, or scared, or titillated, or saddened, or nostalgic, or uplifted—but always absorbed.”

The intellectual promise is more complicated. “The story can promise (1) Read this and you’ll see this world from a different perspective; (2) Read this and you’ll have confirmed what you aready want to believe about this world; or (3) Read this and you’ll learn of a different, more interesting world than this.”

Your reader knows what she wants out of your novel. You’ve sent a hint by the cover and by the back cover copy or Amazon product information. She’s probably read a couple of reviews to find out if the book is likely to satisfy her expectations. She’s read the “search inside” online and determined whether or not she’ll like this story. Your characters, tone, plot, and style all tell your reader what to expect.

Nancy Kress goes on to say, “By the time she’s read your beginning, your reader knows what you’ve implicitly promised. A satisfying middle is one that develops that promise with specificity and interest. A satisfying ending is one that delivers on the promise, providing new insight or comfortable confirmation or vicarious happiness. Even when it’s surprising in some way, the ending feels inevitable, because it fulfills the promise of the story. And—this is important—the ending feels satisfying only because the beginning set up the implicit promise in the first place.”

It’s vital that your package matches up to the promise made in the opening paragraphs, and that the promises made are realized in the final chapters. If you’ve promised a sweet, gentle romance, don’t deliver horror. Can the combination never work? That’s not what I’m saying. But if there’s an underlying fear or tension in the opening, you’re not promising sweetness. Hints need to be laid out from the early paragraphs that “all is not what it seems.”

You probably know, as you begin your first draft, what you want your reader to feel. If you don’t, give it some conscious thought. Make a list of keywords, or mind map them.

Tweetables

What’s the key to a satisfying ending for a work of fiction? Story Promise! click to tweet
Writer, know the story promise you are making to your reader – and then keep it. click to tweet

For Snowflake Tiara, a Christmas inspirational romance novella I’m currently writing (releasing September 2014), the list looks something like this: Christmas carols (especially Away in a Manger), children laughing, snowmen, hot chocolate, caring for the unfortunate, unexpected gifts, snowflakes, historical mansion, tall Christmas trees decorated in period style, tiaras, pageants, compassion, kisses under the mistletoe, crisp moonlit nights, street lamps, family, belonging, tradition.

Wouldn’t you be surprised if a guy with a bazooka showed up in the final chapter? Would you trust my story telling ever again if I broke the promise I’d been making from the beginning? No one who is looking for a bazooka story would have stuck with me long enough to find where it came in, and those who were there for the nostalgia of a “perfect” Christmas would be more than annoyed!

As in life, don’t make promises you don’t intend to keep. Know your reader. Know the promise you’re making. And then…keep it.

Image courtesy of tungphoto at FreeDigitalPhotos.net