Plot Structure and Satisfaction

Why are we so dissatisfied when a plot does not reward virtue and penalize vice? Or when the ending has no resolution of issues but leaves the reader wondering what and who was reliable in the novel?

In college I read Thomas Pynchon’s The Crying of Lot 49, which raised the expectations of my mystery-loving heart with its numerous clues and apparent trajectory toward a revealing. Instead, with all of its selfish postmodern heart, it refused to relinquish any surety, any certainty.

While novels written from the Christian worldview don’t and many times shouldn’t tie a denouement up with a pretty bow, they must 1) set up a scenario that has tension and promise and characters that evoke, at the very least, curiosity 2) a challenge or obstacle that puts something important in peril and 3) a concluding state that owes its nature to subsequencies or reactions to the peril.

(Hmm, Latayne says to herself: That’s the phases of faith, as exemplified by the life of Abraham and Sarah and all the heroes of faith.)

When Jesus told stories, He told them in this three-part structure, too. Most exemplary of this is the parable of the sower. There’s all the potential of a seed. And all the obstacles of the soils. And all the satisfaction – and inevitability – of the results.

Here’s an exercise to stimulate some plot creativity (and give you practice with a one-to-two-sentence “hook” that agents and editors expect you to craft.)

Choose a parable of Jesus. Write it as a three-part structure as described above, but using a modern scenario. Do it in one or two sentences at the most.

My Self-Publishing Experience

In the comments section of our previous post, "The Times They Are a’Changin’" a reader, BK, said she’d like to hear from someone who has published both traditionally and by self publishing during the last two years.

Well, I’m the only NovelMatters author who has gone both routes in the last two years. I’m not comfortable doing dollars and cents, but I can tell you from my experience some things you might not have considered.

Two years ago Zondervan released my non-fiction, The Mormon Mirage, and Moody published my fiction, Latter-day Cipher. They both had given me advances against the royalties that the books would subsequently earn at the rate of over 10 percent (I'm being deliberately imprecise here) on each copy sold at full retail price. So—until the point of “earning out,” technically I earned more than that percentage. Meanwhile, the publishers took the financial risk and paid for typesetting, cover design, editing, my book trailer, advance copies sent to reviewers, print advertisement, contacting radio and television stations, and many other elements of my books.

All of those became my job when my agent concluded that there was no interest from publishers in another nonfiction, The Hinge of Your History: The Phases of Faith. But I knew there was tremendous interest in this book because I spoke on it so often. So with my agent’s blessing I self-published it last fall through Amazon CreateSpace. My profit on the books I buy and resell is more like 70%. But, again—all the manuscript and cover preparation was my job. All the publicity is my job.

But you know what – I’m loving it. The sales on the initial printings (which all sold from two speaking appointments, one newsletter blast, and announcements on NovelMatters and Facebook) have given me the funds to create some neat promotional products I’ll sell/give away when I’ll speak next month before 900 women at the Women Walking With God conference in Wichita Kansas.

Here’s a picture. From the top going clockwise: the back of my book, the front of my book, a pen imprinted with my website address, two wristbands that read, “It’s a Contradiction!” and my website address, a pocket-sized notebook, a bookmark that has the cover image on the front and a list of my most popular speaking topics on the back. Center: a checkbook cover with the “hinge” image crossing from front to back (just as the book has.)

I’d like to give away some of these promotional products to a NovelMatters reader. I will choose from the people who make comments below. If you can answer any of the following questions (have read the book), you will be entered twice:

What is the "hinge" of the book title?

What are the four layers that span the spines of the book and the checkbook cover?

What are the three phases of faith?

What is the meaning of the phrase, "It's a Contradiction!"?

1)

Inside The Three-Inch Frame

Patti’s post on Wednesday, and her call to write what you can see through a one-inch frame about your childhood, led me to a photograph of myself. It’s an old Brownie camera photo, about three inches by three inches, but it’s a good, tight frame. And it’s filled with details.

In my nonfiction book, The Hinge of Your History: The Phases of Faith, I wrote about the fact that our lives have hinge points at which everything changes. For Sarah in the Old Testament, living a life where everyone saw her as a childless old maid, the hinge was the miraculous birth of Isaac.

For me, one of those significant changes occurred at the point of this photograph. Take a tour of this photo with me.

The setting is Northeast Elementary School in Farmington, New Mexico, at the height of the natural gas boom in the early 1960’s. My parents moved there and bought a peach orchard, clearing enough trees to form “Rose’s Trailer Spaces” on Schofield Lane to accommodate the floods of people who moved there from “back east” in trailers (most of them eight feet wide, thirty or forty feet long) with their many children. We children played “gas station” and “fort” in the abandoned chicken farm coops next door. To this day, chicken manure has a good, “right” smell to me.

In the background of the picture is a little person who is not impressed with what is happening with me. What would I have noticed about that girl? See how cute, how little-girl, her shoes are? See what I’m wearing—brown oxfords, because I had weak ankles and couldn’t wear regular shoes until I was a teenager.

The woman in the picture is Marie McCarty. She was my second-grade teacher who announced that someone was having a city-wide contest for students to write about fire prevention. I took the announcement home, and in a very uncharacteristic spasm of interest, my father helped me walk through the house and write about an escape plan, should our second-hand salmon-and-silver-colored trailer catch on fire in the peach orchard.

The essay won second prize, not first. The second-grader who won first prize for our age group wrote a poem. I immediately concluded that poetry was better than prose. I confess, I still think so.

My hair is blonde and curled. I really, really, really wanted straight black hair like an Indian maiden. (I also begged my parents to drop me off at the Navajo Reservation and let me live in a hogan.) To get those curls, I had slept all night in tiny pink curlers that looked like perforated baby fingers split down the middle, with straps that kept them in place. (Before we got the creepy fancy curlers, my mom used rags.)

I’m wearing what was at that time called a squaw dress. It was pale pink with copper and black braid on it. My mother made one for herself and this one for me. I remember her muttering curses at the sewing machine as she sewed, one eye shut because she had eye problems, wearing a gigantic unyielding brown back brace the size and shape of a washerwoman’s basket.

Mrs. McCarty is giving me a certificate and a five-dollar bill for winning second prize. I am very proud. One of my classmates called me “moneybags.” You could get money for writing? Who knew?

But none of these details are as formative of me as a writer, as another detail you can’t see. Notice how my skirt poofs out? In those days, all little girls wore these stiff, tiered, scratchy net slips. They printed tiny hexagon shapes into your thighs if you sat very long. You endured them, but they could never be allowed to peek from your hem or one of your friends would come up to you, wide-eyed and alarmed and tell you in a harsh whisper, “It’s snowing down south!”

I had several slips. When I wasn’t wearing them, they hung on the back of the door of my bedroom, where I slept on the bottom bunk and my brother on the top.

I was not yet aware that I was extremely nearsighted. When we had the stand-in-line-read-the-charts vision tests at school, I always got in the back of the line and memorized what the other kids said, because I knew not being able to see was a moral failure of some sort, because my dad got mad the first time I brought home a note saying I needed glasses.

So at night, I would lie in bed and try not to look at those fluffy slips which took shapes and menaced me. I was convinced sometimes that George Washington was looking at me with disapproval. Other times the pastel layers would blow in a breeze and make changing, reaching landscapes where I couldn’t hope to get a foothold and might slip into its depths and never be found again.

I was ashamed because I couldn’t see, and ashamed that I could.

Every night I slept at the far edge of the bed, my back against the trailer wall, with all my dolls at my feet and a space in the bed for Jesus who I’d heard never had a place to lay His head.

Every night, I fought a battle with the terrors and the unknowns of my own imagination.

The battle never stopped. Every day, fifty years later as I write, I do the same.

The Funnel of Inspiration

You who have followed us for a while have undoubtedly noticed that, with the exception of Latayne's The Hinge of Your History: the Phases of Faith, none of us has had a new book published in the past number of months. That can be, and quite candidly is, a discouraging situation for all of us. The publishing world has been hit by the downturn in our economy as many industries have, but even apart from that there are many changes taking place in the publishing world, and we've all been affected.

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It's discouraging to find yourself without a contract once you've been published, particularly if you're multi-published, as all of us here are. That said, none of us is back to square one, because we all have agents who believe in us and are doing their best to find publishing homes for our novels.

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So how do I deal with discouragement? One way is to encourage myself with comments from readers. I love the quote Marybeth used in Monday's post, how as Christian writers "...We should also wish to make [our readers] better" George F. Handel. It's quite gratifying to read a note from a reader who not only enjoyed your book, but who took something away from it, something that helped them grow a little in their Christian walk. Like the comment Megan Sayer wrote on our blog regarding Lying on Sunday a couple of weeks ago. It really boosted my spirits. I think helping the reader grow, no matter where they are in their relationship to God, is the goal of most Christian writers. Not just to entertain, though entertainment is certainly part of what we strive to offer, but to help advance the kingdom of God in our own small way.

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How else do I get the upper hand over discouragement? Well, as they say, misery loves company. So I share my writing woes with my closest writing friends -- Bonnie, Debbie, Katy, Latayne and Patti. They understand me like no one outside my immediate family understands me. Truly, it takes a writer to know one (or maybe the spouse and children of one). They've been exactly where I am, and if nothing else they can wipe my tears or share them, and they can and do pray for me. I can't stress enough the importance of having a close writing friend or two. We here at Novel Matters are excited because we see relationships developing between our readers, who, like us, may not live in the same state or even the same country -- perhaps not even on the same continent. But you're developing friendships, and we hope those friendships go beyond greeting one another on our Comments page. We hope you'll find critique pals and kindred souls who know just where you are and can encourage you as you write.

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Then there are those days when I close the door to my office, ignore the wooing of my characters, and find other things to do -- things not even remotely related to writing. Cleaning the pantry comes to mind. Mostly I don't do that. Mostly I keep to my work, plodding away on plots and word counts, but there are days ... And when I have days like that, when cleaning the pantry or the junk drawer or whatever else calls to me, I decide, "Why fight it?" I turn on the oldies and roll up my sleeves. But trust me, it's not wasted time. Because for as long as I can remember, when I have a problem to work through or a defeat to deal with, I clean. These days you could eat off my floor. (We won't talk about the windows.) I talk out loud to God while I'm doing it, too. Out. Loud. I lay my issues before him like Hezekiah spreading out the letter from Sennacherib, king of Assyria, who was determined to conquer Judah, and boasted that not even the God of Hezekiah could prevent it. Oh yeah? Overnight, God wiped out much of his army, and Sennacherib fled back to Nineveh "and stayed there." I love it. (For the whole account, read 2 Kings, chapters 18 & 19.)

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And beyond that, I determine on a daily -- sometimes hourly -- basis to be true to my call. Philippians 2:13 is one of my favorite scriptures: "For it is God who works in you both to will and to do His good pleasure." (Sorry, my quote is a blend of KJV and NIV.) God gave me a writer's heart, and short of a transplant, a writer I will stay. And as someone who believes very much in the sovereignty of God, I acknowledged long ago that it's my job to write, and His job to take my offering and do what He wants with it, when He's good and ready. Does that stop me from saying to Him on occasion, "Come. Let us reason together ..."? Not on your life. I'm not above twisting the arm of God. In fact, I'm dangling from it as we speak. I just happen to know it doesn't get me very far.

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So my encouragement funnels down from the praises of those I don't know, or don't know well, to family and friends who walk with me on this journey, to that still small voice inside that encourages me that when I've done all I know to do, to stand. And so I stand. Or more accurately I sit, BIC, and pour onto the page the story that churns in my heart. That's how it has to be for all of us, because when all is said and done, it's the inner conviction that keeps us going.

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We have some fun and some helpful resources planned for this year at Novel Matters, such as our Novel Tips on Rice recipe book that we offered in December. If you haven't yet downloaded it, you can find it here. It's a fun and a free resource we put together under the ultra-talented leadership of Katy Popa. Need a website? She's the person to talk to. Visit her at Cottonbond. We'll have contests and opportunities for the writers and readers among us, and we'll do our best to help you on your journey. We look forward to your interaction with us and with each other. 2011, here we come!

Congratulations to Vonilda (Vonildawrites) and Nancy Williams on winning Latayne's new book, The Hinge of Your History: the Phases of Faith, on Wednesday. Please send your address to Latayne@latayne.com for your copies! We have two more copies of this inspiring book to give away today, so add your comment for a chance to win!

On Wednesday, Katy shared about a photo of her great grandmother, a woman of faith who left behind a true legacy for her family. I have two similar photos of women of faith. One is my husband's grandmother and the other is mine. Both are standing in their tomato gardens; both are elderly. My grandmother-in-law is smiling in a sea of tomato plants, her hair tied in a scarf, the hem of her dress brushing her knees and her belt cinched high beneath an ample bosom. My grandmother stands in her jaunty hat, patterned shirtwaist dress and cradling heirloom tomatoes in the crook of her arm. I like to think of her family, present and future, cradled close to her heart. Her faith - their faith - in a loving God whom they served their entire lives was the soil for the seeds that produced vibrant spiritual fruit in the future. Our faith ripened on the sunny window sills of their love.

Neither of these women had easy lives, but they did not become outwardly bitter or jaded by what may have seemed to others as a God who tarried in his promises. I don't think it ever occurred to them to step away from their faith. Perhaps they were more concerned with doing their part than in whether or not God was doing His. This aspect reminded me of Latayne's portrayal of Sarah in her new book, The Hinge of Your History: the Phases of Faith. I can hear the chuckle from each woman at the news that one so old would bear a child. I can't blame them! Knowing myself, I would probably chuckle at the absurdity of it more than from disbelief.

It is humbling to know that the kernel of faith in others relies in part on our own faith. Can that make us stronger, less prone to doubt? It's like bearing a torch, that if dropped, may cause the light to go out for future generations.

How much depends on us? Leave a comment for a chance to win Latayne's insightful new book.

Using Fictional Techniques in Nonfiction

It’s true – NovelMatters is a blog about fiction. Some of us also write and publish non-fiction, and I’m pleased to announce my new nonfiction release, The Hinge of Your History: The Phases of Faith.

I’m giving away 2 copies of this book—we'll choose at random two recipients from those who comment today.

There are three reasons why I think this book may interest you:

1) Philip Yancey said of the concept of The Phases of Faith that it “is more profound than you can imagine.”

2) This concept has helped me more than any other concept I have learned in my decades of life as a Christian.

3) The Hinge of Your History: The Phases of Faith contains some examples of using fictional techniques in nonfiction.

Why should the readers of NovelMatters learn about creative nonfiction?

1) You may consider yourself a fiction writer, but your daily writing tasks probably involve a high percentage of nonfiction writing. Examples: blog entries, newsletter articles, daily journaling and even Tweeting use nonfiction.

2) If you are a writer working on your craft, you probably read nonfiction about writing. And you know nothing puts a reader to sleep faster than dull writing.

3) You, like every other reader in the world, prefer lively, memorable writing to straight exposition.

Here’s a passage from my new non-fiction book, The Hinge of Your History: The Phases of Faith:

A woman sits outside in the gathering dusk, her back to her tent-home, her eyes straining toward a footpath worn in the soil: a footpath that begins at her doorstep but ends in the unknown.

At first, days ago, she had counted the passing time by minutes and hours. But as sunset followed sunrise again and again, she has begun to count in days the time that they have been gone. Soon she will mark a week of simmering desperation, of both heartsickness and hope.

Her husband (her only husband, though she was often not his “only”) and her son (her only son, born long past her menopause, a miracle baby now grown into a young man) have disappeared into the shifting dust beyond her sight, beyond any human sight.

She has lived decades, more than a century. Now at the twilight of her life she recognizes some things about the God she and her family have served, this mysterious and terrifying One who created the world, but who has also reclined at her dinner table, eating the food she has prepared.

This God only wants the best. And she knows her son Isaac is the best, and the husband who has both loved her and betrayed her through almost one hundred years of marriage has taken that beloved son away, to offer him as a burnt sacrifice in a place that no one has named.

And so this woman sits and waits, an outpost on the frontiers of faith.

At the time I wrote this passage I had not collected a list of fictional techniques that make nonfiction more readable and more memorable. But I recognize now that many of the fictional techniques I employ in novel writing can also strengthen nonfiction.

Here are some fiction techniques (a few of which you may find in the passage above):

1) Banish all passive verbs – the bane of all writing.

2) Use analogies, metaphors, similes and other techniques. For instance, I drew what people have described as a "powerful" and "moving" parallel in The Mormon Mirage between my loss of faith in Mormonism and my discovery that the treasured seagull-rescue story of Mormonism was also without historical foundation.

3) Make the writing personal to the reader, not necessarily to you: Give him or her a reason to feel threatened or intrigued by what you say.

4) Use scintillating chapter heads, subheadings, or other clues to what you will eventually tell the reader.

5) Use hooks of any kind with abandon on the first draft. You can always go back and take them out if they are “too much.”

6) You must have a definite beginning, middle and end in order to satisfy the reader’s need for order, yet in earlier stages leave some things unsaid to keep him or her reading on – because suspense is satisfying, too, when finally relieved.

7) Only tell when it is impossible to show without some telling. Then find a fresh way to tell. That may involve using lists, variations in genre, or arresting descriptions.

8) Use dialogue or dialogue-like techniques—this makes the reader feel like he or she is eavesdropping.

9) If your nonfiction piece has a chronology to it, consider beginning it with what we call in fiction a “precipitating event,” then fill the reader in during the exposition portion.

10) Jackhammer in sensory details with strong verbs. Only use adjectives if they’re essential, and make every non-essential adverb evacuate the premises of your story.

11) If a certain fictional technique doesn’t “work” in your nonfiction writing, you are not married to it because you wrote it. Nor must you feel that you are its mother. Push it out into the world to make its own way, perhaps fading away or finding a home in the writings of hacks. Your recognition of this principle means you are not a hack.

Comments, please?