Sagging Middles

As Bonnie explained on Monday, June 23, we are re-running some of our favorite posts from the past few years. This post first appeared May 30, 2012.

A novel, at its basic reduction, is a series of scenes cohesively held
together by narrative. Picture what we used to call a "granny quilt." It's a collection of crocheted circles or squares attached in rows by basic crochet stitches. Then the rows are connected by another basic stitch. When completed, it's a lovely work of art, that serves a useful purpose.

Scenes in a novel are like those circles and squares. According to The Scene Book: A Primer for the Fiction Writer, by Sandra Scofield, "The scene is the most vivid and immediate part of the story, the place where the reader is the most emotionally involved, the part that leaves the reader with images and a memory of the action" (pg. 3).

That's not to say the narrative is unimportant. Remember, narrative is the stitch that holds the scenes together. It should be written with as much care as the scenes themselves, and should be as engaging as possible. One of my favorite authors is Jamie Langston Turner, who uses a lot of narrative in her novels. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, but I enjoy her writing very much because her narrative is written with such care, and with such an engaging voice.

But back to scenes. Scenes are immediate. They happen in the present as you read them. Scenes are mini-stories, self-contained, each with a beginning, middle and end. Each scene should contain new and pertinent information, should have a degree of tension, and most importantly, should move the story along. If a scene doesn't accomplish these things it should be re-written with those goals in mind, or if it's entirely superfluous it should be cut altogether. Elizabeth George, in Write Away, has this to say: "Be careful that the scene adds something necessary to the story's development: information, revelation, discovery, sudden change" (pg. 139).

The middle section of a novel is most vulnerable to bogging down the story. If you find your WIP falling victim to a sagging middle, evaluate the story, scene by scene. Is the scene itself tight, adding ever-increasing tension, and moving the story forward? Are the stakes raised with each succeeding scene, resolutely moving toward the climax? If not, re-work your scenes until they are. And if they can't be rewritten to that end, don't hesitate to cut them. "Each scene has a dilemma or a pressure on the POV character, and it is sufficient in its importance that it drives the action and feeling" (The Scene Book, pg. 60).

The antagonist should oppose the protagonist at every turn. The tautness of a scene can be likened to a cord held tightly at one end by the protagonist, and held just as tightly at the other end by the antagonist. One is always pulling against the other. That's what creates the type of tension that makes a book impossible to put down. Tension is built by "holding back information from the reader; introducing questions and then intensifying concerns about the answers; making the reader uneasy about the harmony of relationships" (The Scene Book, pg. 73). Sol Stein in Stein on Writing acknowledges that, "Our instinct as human beings is to provide answers, to ease tension. As writers our job is the opposite, to create tension and not dispel it immediately ... and when it comes to moments of tension, to stretch them out as long as possible" (pg. 106). Elizabeth George says, "And make that conflict rise, as all good conflict should. Don't jump into it with people yelling, screaming, shooting, and having swords drawn" (pg. 139). Stein adds this great piece of writing advice: "The most important moment of tension in a novel is its first use, which should be as close to the beginning of the book as possible. It puts the writer in charge of the reader's emotions" (pg. 107), and that is an important goal of the author.

The narrative between scenes gives the reader a moment to catch her breath. So it too serves an important part. But remember, the narrative shouldn't be expendable, but should be as engaging as any scene.

I'm the type of reader who doesn't ever skip over anything in a novel. I read every word, every time. I love being rewarded with scenes that draw me in and raise my heart rate. And I love narrative that takes me back to level ground without a sense of let-down.

There's so much more to writing scenes that keep the middle from sagging. I recommend all three of these books, but especially the great little primer by Sandra Scofield.

What problems do you run into in the middle section of your novel? How do you evaluate the problems, and what do you do to resolve them?

Where do I begin??

Patti began our Roundtable discussion on Monday talking about what to cut from your novel, particularly at the beginning of a piece. In the Comments section it was asked, how do you know where a story truly begins? And is there a rule about when backstory comes in?

Well, let's see what the pros have to say in reply.

Sol Stein in Stein on Writing (pg. 15), says:

Elia Kazan, brilliant director of stage and screen as well as a late-blooming novelist, told me that audiences give a film seven minutes. If the viewer is not intrigued by character or incident within that time, the film and its viewer are at odds. The viewer came for an experience. The film is disappointing him.

Today's impatient readers give a novelist fewer than seven minutes. Some years ago I was involved in an informal study of the behavior of lunch-hour browsers in mid-Manhattan bookstores. In the fiction section, the most common pattern was for the browser to read the front flap of the book's jacket and then go to page one. No browser went beyond page three before either taking the book to the cashier or putting the book down and picking up another to sample ... first sentences and first paragraphs ... are increasingly important for arousing the restless reader.

I can attest to the truth of the study. If page one of a novel doesn't engage me, I move on. My reading time is precious to me. I don't have time to waste or wade through a slow beginning.

Elizabeth George in Write Away (pg. 65), which is one of my personal favorites, wrote in her journal:

...I'm beginning to have more clarity on the novel. What I haven't seen yet is precisely how or where in the story to begin.

Then, regarding the decision of where to open, she goes on to say:

The way I see it, you have three alternatives. You can begin the story just before the beginning; you can begin it right at the beginning; or you can begin it after the beginning.


Huh?

Well, she actually makes sense as she continues:

Starting just before the beginning, you ... have to come up with a scene that illustrates the status quo of the main characters before the primary event occurs.

If you choose to start your novel right at the beginning, you are making the choice to introduce simultaneously both the characters and the primary event that gets the ball rolling ...

Beginning your novel after the beginning of the story means that you are choosing to start after the primary event has occurred. The ball, in other words, is already in motion and the reader is plunked down in the middle of the action.

James Scott Bell in Plot & Structure (pg. 56), cuts right to the chase and gives us a nice check list:

• Get the reader hooked.
• Establish a bond between the reader and the Lead character.
• Present the story world---tell us something about the setting, the time, and the immediate context.
• Establish the general tone of the novel.
• Compel the reader to move on to the middle. Just why should the reader care to continue?
• Introduce the opposition.

This is all great advice, and by examining our beginnings we can see if we're hitting any of these targets, but it can still be difficult to know if we've hit on the right place to start. Elmore Leonard, who wrote among other things Get Shorty and 3:10 to Yuma, once said, "I try to leave out the parts that people skip." Yeah, me too. That's especially important when it comes to those opening paragraphs and pages, because, like Sol Stein discovered, if a reader isn't engaged by then, he's not going to be.

As an exercise, turn to the beginnings of half a dozen of your favorite novels and study the openings. What was it about those first few paragraphs that kept you reading? Conversely, was there something that nearly derailed you---even if you're glad you kept reading? Judging by the advice of our pros, did those beginnings line up with the advice they gave?

I'll give an example from one of my favorite novels, Blue Hole Back Home, by Joy Jordan Lake. First of all, it was the cover that got me to pick up the book, which was a title I'd never heard of, by an author I'd never heard of. But the cover intrigued me, so I opened to the first page and read:

Likely it was only two dreams crisscrossing paths, one snagging on the other in passing, but somehow the face that walked by me this morning, not four feet away, got tangled up with one from my past ... And I swear time backstitched on itself ...

I loved that last line, loved how it sounded, loved the picture it drew in my mind. But this is what took me straight to the cashier:

In that moment, the smell of espresso got overpowered by the scents of my past: pine needles and boy-sweat, salted peanuts and Coke. I heard bluegrass guitar and banjo all mixed up with rhythm and blues and a rope swing ticking forward and back, keeping time. I was barefoot in the back of a pickup, believing that it was love that makes people brave and gorgeous and clever and kind. Believing, and being wrong.

Man, oh man, that was the line that hooked me. I've read the book several times and recommend it to anyone who will listen, and I grow fonder of it each time.

Besides Blue Hole Back Home, I highly recommend the three books I cited today. I've read each of them more than once, and I learn something new every single time. Write Away has so many notes and sticky tabs it's getting difficult to wade through. It may be time for another copy.

I'd like to hear your observations on the passages I cited. We'll talk about backstory when I post in a couple of weeks.

Resisting Perfection

Katy began our discussion last week talking about the hazards of reading our old manuscripts. We all pretty much agree, even the most successful writers we can name, it's not necessarily a pleasant stroll down memory lane. Patti asked the question, "Can we see our own writing for what it is? I'm beginning to have my doubts." I'm right there with her. As I'm writing a novel I like to think it's pretty darn good, but golly. But by the time I'm finished with it I'm usually so saturated with the project that I can't begin to be objective. It seems completely flat to me. I often ask myself, "Who in their right mind is going to want to read this?" Or worse, publish it? That's when it helps to have a critique partner, someone to talk you down off the ledge, another writer who can objectively evaluate the writing, the plot, the character development, etc. Someone who will also give praise where praise is due, but is not afraid to point out the weaknesses as well. I am beyond blessed to have had Katy as that critique partner with my last three books, and now I have my other Novel Matters pals to lend their wisdom, knowledge and expertise to my writing.

So reading our previous work can cause us some anxiety, but in a way that's a good thing, because it helps us recognize growth. It lets us see where we've strengthened our writing and where we still fall short. Because, sorry to say, we'll never arrive.

One of my favorite books on writing is Elizabeth George's Write Away. I have so many tabs on the pages I can't see the edge of the book. The tabs are even color coded. Alas, I can't remember what the colors mean. No matter. This is a resource book I go back to time and time again, and one I highly recommend.

In Chapter 1, "Story is Character," she touches on our subject in regards to character development, citing a problem that new writers in particular tend to fall into. She says:

I try to keep some basic guidelines in mind when I'm creating my characters. First, I try to remember that real people have flaws. We're all works in progress ... and not one of us possesses physical, emotional, spiritual, and psychological perfection. This should be true of our characters as well ... As individuals we're all riddled with issues of self-doubt in one area or another. This is the great commonality of mankind. So in literature, we want to see characters who make mistakes, who have lapses in judgment, who experience weakness from time to time.

If I had my first manuscript to look back on -- the one I discarded in a recent move -- I know I'd see just how badly I fell victim to that error early on. It wasn't quite the "silent movie" depiction of good characters and bad characters, where the heroine is all perfection and the villain is a cigar-smoking jerk who spends most of his time twirling his black handlebar mustache, but it was close. My protagonist was an angelic creature, bearing her many trials and tribulations with quiet dignity, while the antagonist was cruel and rigid in her opposition to the heroine.

To quote Megan: B-O-R-I-N-G.

Well, I tend not to do that with my characters now, which hopefully shows some growth in my writing. I actually had fun creating the character of Aria Winters in Unraveled, a young woman flawed in so many interesting ways. A character who was relatable. And it was the flaws that gave me the story. Elizabeth George confirms this when she says:

... characters are interesting in their conflict, their misery, their unhappiness, and their confusion. They are not, alas, interesting in their joy and security. The first gives them a pit out of which to climb during the course of a novel. The second robs them of story.

She gives an entertaining example of this from the writing of one of her students, who was creating a private investigator in the story she was writing:

[In the first 10 pages] ... we met the PI, his sister, their mother, and their stepfather. the PI was from a large Irish family. His sister worked for him. He and his sister got along well; they were practically best friends, and they loved each other to pieces. On the night in question ... the PI and his sister -- loving each other to pieces -- are going over to their mother's house for St. Patrick's Day dinner. They adore their mother and wouldn't miss a St. Patrick's Day dinner for all the corned beef and cabbage in County Clare. Plus, their mother is a superb cook, the best cook ever, in fact ... So they go over to their mom's house, and the first person they see is their stepfather. He's a wonderful man. They worship him. He made their childhood bliss.

At this point in the chapter, one was praying for someone to come along and put all of these characters out of the reader's misery. Why? Because there was no conflict. There was nothing but happiness, joy and familial bliss. Alas. There was no story

.
No kidding.

Ms. George goes on to talk about the importance of giving your characters flaws. And she's absolutely right. There's no dimension to a perfect character, nothing the reader can connect to. And nothing on which to hang a plot.

Have you ever found yourself writing flawless characters? Been hesitant to show your characters' imperfections? And conversely, not allowed your antagonists to have any good qualities? Have you seen growth in your writing when it comes to character development -- or any aspect of creating story? What helped you see the importance of letting your characters' humanity show through?
 

Shore Up Your Sagging Middle

A novel, at its basic reduction, is a series of scenes cohesively held together by narrative. Picture what we used to call a "granny quilt." It's a collection of crocheted circles or squares attached in rows by basic crochet stitches. Then the rows are connected by another basic stitch. When completed, it's a lovely work of art, that serves a useful purpose.

Scenes in a novel are like those circles and squares. According to The Scene Book: A Primer for the Fiction Writer, by Sandra Scofield, "The scene is the most vivid and immediate part of the story, the place where the reader is the most emotionally involved, the part that leaves the reader with images and a memory of the action" (pg. 3).

That's not to say the narrative is unimportant. Remember, narrative is the stitch that holds the scenes together. It should be written with as much care as the scenes themselves, and should be as engaging as possible. One of my favorite authors is Jamie Langston Turner, who uses a lot of narrative in her novels. I know it's not everyone's cup of tea, but I enjoy her writing very much because her narrative is written with such care, and with such an engaging voice.

But back to scenes. Scenes are immediate. They happen in the present as you read them. Scenes are mini-stories, self-contained, each with a beginning, middle and end. Each scene should contain new and pertinent information, should have a degree of tension, and most importantly, should move the story along. If a scene doesn't accomplish these things it should be re-written with those goals in mind, or if it's entirely superfluous it should be cut altogether. Elizabeth George, in Write Away, has this to say: "Be careful that the scene adds something necessary to the story's development: information, revelation, discovery, sudden change" (pg. 139).

The middle section of a novel is most vulnerable to bogging down the story. If you find your WIP falling victim to a sagging middle, evaluate the story, scene by scene. Is the scene itself tight, adding ever-increasing tension, and moving the story forward? Are the stakes raised with each succeeding scene, resolutely moving toward the climax? If not, re-work your scenes until they are. And if they can't be rewritten to that end, don't hesitate to cut them. "Each scene has a dilemma or a pressure on the POV character, and it is sufficient in its importance that it drives the action and feeling" (The Scene Book, pg. 60).

The antagonist should oppose the protagonist at every turn. The tautness of a scene can be likened to a cord held tightly at one end by the protagonist, and held just as tightly at the other end by the antagonist. One is always pulling against the other. That's what creates the type of tension that makes a book impossible to put down. Tension is built by "holding back information from the reader; introducing questions and then intensifying concerns about the answers; making the reader uneasy about the harmony of relationships" (The Scene Book, pg. 73). Sol Stein in Stein on Writing acknowledges that, "Our instinct as human beings is to provide answers, to ease tension. As writers our job is the opposite, to create tension and not dispel it immediately ... and when it comes to moments of tension, to stretch them out as long as possible" (pg. 106). Elizabeth George says, "And make that conflict rise, as all good conflict should. Don't jump into it with people yelling, screaming, shooting, and having swords drawn" (pg. 139). Stein adds this great piece of writing advice: "The most important moment of tension in a novel is its first use, which should be as close to the beginning of the book as possible. It puts the writer in charge of the reader's emotions" (pg. 107), and that is an important goal of the author.

The narrative between scenes gives the reader a moment to catch her breath. So it too serves an important part. But remember, the narrative shouldn't be expendable, but should be as engaging as any scene.

I'm the type of reader who doesn't ever skip over anything in a novel. I read every word, every time. I love being rewarded with scenes that draw me in and raise my heart rate. And I love narrative that takes me back to level ground without a sense of let-down.

There's so much more to writing scenes that keep the middle from sagging. I recommend all three of these books, but especially the great little primer by Sandra Scofield.

What problems do you run into in the middle section of your novel? How do you evaluate the problems, and what do you do to resolve them?

What Did You Say?

The book club I participate in just read Havah by Tosca Lee for our January selection. It's a remarkable novel about Adam and Eve, before and after the fall, from Eve's perspective. Tosca did an amazing job of filling in the gaps and telling a story of how it might have been to be the mother of all mankind. We all enjoyed the book, and gave it an A, but early in our discussion my daughter Mindy said, "I ended up loving the book, but it took me a while to get into it because I couldn't find her voice." Sometimes we just don't click with a story but we're not sure why, so I'm glad Mindy was able to identify the problem, and then to continue reading until she did find the character's voice, because ultimately she really enjoyed the novel.
~

Voice is such a vital element of fiction. Without it a story can be flat and one dimensional. We may see the words, but they don't come to life in our heads and hearts. As readers, we all bring something of ourselves to a character's voice. I may hear Harper Lee's "Scout" differently than you hear her, but there's no question that we'll hear her voice, because it's written with such texture and clarity. I could already hear Scout's voice by paragraph two of To Kill a Mockingbird when she said, "I maintain that the Ewells started it all, but Jem, who was four years my senior, said it started long before that. He said it began the summer Dill came to us, when Dill first gave us the idea of making Boo Radley come out. I said if he wanted to take a broad view of the thing, it really began with Andrew Jackson."

~

Who couldn't love a girl who talked like that? Who couldn't wait to hear the whole story? There's a wonderful cadence to her voice, and certainly an accent. And my very favorite "voice" is going to have a southern accent. Maybe it's my family roots (I'm California born and bred but my parents and grandparents were from the South) but I can get lost in a southern accent and forget entirely to come up for air. If you ever watched Ken Burns' Civil War series, I fell in love with author and historian Shelby Foote, who I could have listened to for hours on end, even if he was merely reading the dictionary. That's just me. So while we all bring something different to a reading experience, we as authors have to give our readers something to work with, and that's where cadence, word choice, sentence structure, etc., come into play.

~

We agree that some writers books can be hard to understand, way too subjective, conflicting, and even elitest, but there are some exceptional ones we recommend (see our Resources page), as our Roundtable discussion this week bears out. Elizabeth George, in Write Away, says, "The narrative voice of your novel is the point-of-view character's defining way of speaking and thinking. Mind you, I'm not referring to the point-of-view character's style of dialogue, however. I'm referring to the tone that comes through the narrative itself ..." Case in point, the excerpt I used from To Kill a Mockingbird above is not a passage of dialogue; rather it's narrative. But it's as entertaining as dialogue thanks to Scout's distinctive voice.

~

In The Help by Kathryn Stockett, it takes only a few chapters to be able to identify the three POV characters, even without the chapter headings, by their voice alone, because Ms. Stockett has given each her own distinct characteristics. Elizabeth George says voice comes from background, education or lack thereof, position in society, distinctive use of language, vocabulary, tone and "most important ... attitude. More than anything that you can do to illustrate voice for your reader, the character's attitude will differentiate one character from another."

~

Jim Scott Bell, in Plot & Structure, says, "No two characters should sound exactly alike ... the words they use should tell us something about who they are." Think of the people you know. Most of the time you don't have to ask who's calling if they fail to identify themselves on the telephone. You know them by their voice. Characters should be as easily identifiable a good deal of the time. To accomplish this, you have to know your characters. They must be distinctive in your mind if they're to be distinctive to your readers. I've learned over time the value of writing character profiles before I begin writing a novel. Some writers create profiles of a character's life from cradle to grave, that go on for pages, even for minor characters. I have no doubt there's great benefit to that, but my profiles tend to be leaner, which allows me the great pleasure of learning new things about a character as I go along, but that new thing should enhance what I already know about that character, and not detract from it.

~

Here's an exercise for you: Write a half-page passage that includes dialogue and narrative from a POV character. Don't use attributes or character description. Then write a similar passage for an entirely different character. Maybe someone of the opposite sex, twenty years younger or older, or who comes from a different part of the country or world. Ask someone to read the two passages and tell you what they know about the each person. How close are they to describing the character you created?

~

What favorite fictional character springs to mind when you think of voice? Have you read anything lately that lacked voice, and if so, how did that impact your reading experience? (You don't have to name names.)

Writing Books We Have Loved - A Roundtable Discussion

Excuse me. Hello? I'm sorry for elbowing my way in here. I have a copy of Bird by Bird for Heidi, but I still need your address. Please click on "contacts" to send your snail mail address, and I'll mail the book right out. We start our discussion next Monday. You may now proceed.



Last week Patti gave Anne Lamott's "Bird by Bird" away to five lucky readers, and I'm delighted for each of them. I too read the book several years before I published my first novel, and yes, it comforted and encouraged me, yes, I clutched it to my heart, and no, I won't loan it to you. Bless Anne. Bless Patti.

After I read her

post, I went to my bookshelf to find other books I won't loan to you, writing books that stirred me up to be not only a writer, but a certain, stubbornly individual kind of writer.

As I scanned the books, I caught sight of the smallest one, nestled in like a first beloved toy crowded to the back of the shelf.

The book was "Zen and the Art of Writing," by Ray Bradbury. It's not the small paperback you can buy at the store - and I suggest you do. It's the Chapra Chapbook Series edition published in 1973 that my professor made me buy in my freshman year of college. It consists of the title essay plus one more, The Joy of Writing. The price on the back reads, $2.50. I notice now, you can buy one on eBay for $25.00. I'm not selling.

Here's a sample, to remind you that good writing is not about money or reputation. It's about juici

ng out what you and you alone can give the reader:

"Notoriety and a fat bank balance must come after everything else is finished and done. That means that they cannot even be considered while you are at the typewriter. The man who considers them, lies one of two ways, to please a tiny audience that can only beat an idea insensible and then to death, or a large audience that wouldn't know an idea if it came up and bit them."

Yet another writing book to add to my list. Thanks, Katy!

I own an embarrassing number of writing books, but I only return to a few. One is by one of my favorite authors, Elizabeth Berg--Escaping Into the Open: The Art of Writing True. I enjoy Ms. Berg's writing, because her narrators are so stinking honest. Laughingly so. Gut-wrenchingly so. And that's the kind of writer I want to be, honest. That honest is born of passion and courage.

She says it like this:

Passion is everywhere: in love, in religion and politics, in cooking and gardening, in learning, in art, in d

evotion to one's family, in solitude and the search for self. But if I had to come up with one word to describe what writing passionately is all about, the work would be "risk." Because that's what emotionally intense communication requires: You must be willing (and courageous enough) to show others the most private parts of yourself, holding back nothing. But first you must be willing to show those parts to yourself, to acknowledge in a conscious way their presence in you.

Confession time: Most writing books make me nervous. They spend a lot of time on helping new writers find ideas and that's not my problem: Ideas stalk me and mug me in the middle of other things I should be doing.

For me, a writing book has to be practical. Nuts and bolts. And the book that helped me the most in that regard is an actual workbook with tear-out pages where I learned, by filling in those pages, how to pace the action of those ideas.

The book is Evan Marshall's The Marshall Plan Workbook: Writing Your Novel from Start to Finish. I'm sorry to say it is out of print but even the copies you can get second-hand (be sure and get a new one-- you need those pages!) makes it worth the money. Here's my favorite quote from Marshall:

". . .In general, the key is to keep characters' emotions at the forefront; write about issues, whether large or small, that people care about; tell your story in an interesting manner; pay attention to your story's pacing; and wind up your novel on a satisfying note. You will be writing the kind of novel you most like to read, but you will also be writing to please your readers."

And the workbook showed me how to do that.

I have 5 writing books that, like Katy, I wouldn't loan out. They're the ones I go to time and again and never fail to find what I need. But since our assignment is to choose one and only one, I went with the book that has a boatload of multi-colored tabs stuck to page after page. That book is Write Away by Elizabeth George. The jacket boasts that "bestselling author Elizabeth George offers would-be writers exactly what they need to know about how to construct a novel." And the book certainly delivers. As a bonus, each chapter begins with an entry by Ms. George from Journal of a Novel. The entry that begins the chapter titled "The Value of Bum Glue" reads:

~

"This is the moment when faith is called for. Faith in the creative spirit within me, which is part of what I've been given by God; faith in the process; faith in my intelligence and my imagination. If I've managed to imagine these characters and this situation into being, doesn't it follow that I should also be able to imagine my way through to the end of the book? It seems so. Thus . . . I suit up and show up. I sit down at the computer and I do the work, moving it forward a sentence at a time, which is ultimately the only way there is to write a book."

I'm torn between two lovers (feeling like a fool. . . loving both of you is breaking all the rules) - at least when it comes to waxing eloquent about writing books. I've read several (skimmed most), but only two have rocked my writing world. When I started writing I lacked no hutzpah. But I didn't know how to wield it. Enter Arthur Plotnik's risque Spunk & Bite: A writer's guide to punchier, more engaging language and style. This is the modern response to Strunk and White's Elements of Style. Art gives practical, gutsy advice and examples of how to write out in style - the kind that gets noticed, even published. Here's a sample from his introduction: "With so many gifted authors already sniffing their way to publication, with so man diversions grabbing mass attention, no writer can afford a writing-as-usual attitude. Language or style that is less engaging, less stimulating than the competition is, frankly, dead on arrival. Whether you strive as a journalist, novelist, poet, copywriter, corporate communicator, student -- or even as a yearning presence on Match.com -- something distinctive, some umami-like deliciousness has to emanate from your words or off they go to oblivion."

After that pep talk, Art's book emboldens the writer to unthink, bend some rules, and embrace her inner hutzpah. (A side note: since I read his book several years ago, he and I have struck up a writing friendship of sorts. He even quotes me twice in his upcoming book. Yep. Little ol' me!)

My second book o' choice is the meaty goodness of John Truby's The Anatomy of Story. I applied myself to this book as I have to university courses. It was painful, but worth every jabbing chest pain. It's not a book to encourage yourself with, it's a textbook and includes the looming impression that there will be an exam at the end. And, of course, there is. It's called your novel.

John states the mission of the book in three succinct points (but don't let that fool you).

• "Show that a great story is organic -- not a machine but a living body that develops.

• Treat storytelling as an exacting craft with precise techniques that will help you be successful, regardless of the medium or genre you choose.
  
  
• Work through a writing process that is also organic, meaning that we will develop characters and plot that grow naturally our of your original story idea."

Both these books have moved me as a writer. They made me plop at the authors' feet and say, "Guru me , baby!"

Well, Katy stole my thunder. My all-time favorite how-to book is Ray Bradbury's "Zen" so I chose a little blue book by Les Edgerton titled Hooked. In particular, his chapter on story-worthy problems vs. surface problems gets to the heart of what hooks a reader:

A story-worthy problem always relates more to the psychology of the protagonist and has to be big enough, dramatic enough, to change the protagonist's world and force him on a journey of change. Surface problems, on the other hand, are more like bad situations that reflect the actual story-worthy problem.

What transforms a story is the inner psychological problem of the protagonist being laid bare on the page.

The best sources for significant story problems reside within yourself in the form of your personal demons.

Seriously good stuff. The book is easy to read with loads of examples and ends with insights, titled, "Agents and Editors Speak Out on Beginnings." Now, get thee to the bookstore.

Project! The Art of Voice in Fiction

I’m eyeball-deep in a writing challenge, a sort of shark tank for the ever-developing writer. I’m writing in four—count ‘em!—four voices. My greatest fear is making them all sound alike. And so, I’ve been studying the topic of voice, reading The Fire in Fiction by Donald Maass and Write Away by Elizabeth George, and listening to a podcast with Anne Lamott. Allow me to share what I've gleaned from these skilled teachers.

Elizabeth George defines voice (how brave of her) like this: “The narrative voice of your novel is the point-of-view character’s defining way of speaking and thinking.” Voice is the tone that comes through the narrative, and tone is the product of knowing my characters better than myself.

Before I started writing my current work in progress, I knew all about Lucy, Ada, Mercy, and Pete. I'd created very detailed backgrounds for each. Their voices were determined by their level of education, formal or acquired. And even though they are American-born, they have positions in society and family histories wrought with material. They're nice, of course, to a point (no anti-heroes this week), but the better I get to know them, I discover their prejudices and biases, their inclinations and desires, their bad habits and poor hygiene habits. Each of them has a well-developed belief system, even if they can’t express it. It's my job to know this about them. Once my characters are fully developed, they have unique, powerful voices.

Maass is especially adamant that characters must offer strong opinions to have a voice worth appreciating. This made a little light glow over my writer head. A character who makes judgments about her world is far more engaging. Consider the importance of opinion in your narrative, your story. Perhaps you've walked past a window of mannequins and thought something like this: Good grief, ugly must be the new black this year. No one older than eight could squeeze into that skirt. They must be selling fashion design diplomas on QVC.

Seeing in your head is fun, interesting, provocative. We give that same thrill to our readers by sounding opinions through our POV narrator.

I’ve rambled on. Indulge me another point.

Donald Maass also has this to say about details in relation to voice: “Even the most ordinary people have a life that’s unique. The details that make it so are a secret source of what critics glibly refer to as voice…Details are an automatic voice all in themselves.”

Here’s an example of details fueling voice from Snow Flower and the Secret Fan by Lisa See:

Three days before my wedding, I began the ceremonies associated with the Day of Sorrow and Worry. Mama sat on the fourth step leading to the upstairs chamber, the women of our village came to witness the laments, and everyone went ku, ku, ku with much sobbing all around. Once Mama and I finished our crying and singing to each other, I repeated the process with my father, my uncle and aunt, and my brothers. I may have been brave and looking forward to my new life, but my body and soul were weak from hunger, because a bride is not allowed to eat for the final ten days of her wedding festivities. Do we follow this custom to make us sadder at leaving our families, to make us more yielding when we go to our husbands’ homes, or to make us appear more pure to our husbands? How can I know the answer? All I know is that Mama—like most mothers—hid a few hard-boiled eggs for me in the women’s chamber, but these did little to give me strength, and my emotions weakened with each new event.

I walk each morning while listening to a podcast called Pen on Fire (highly recommended). The hosts interview the most amazingly talented storytellers, like Anne Lamott. In a recent podcast, the host asked Lamott what advice she had for new writers on the topic of voice. Lamott is the perfect writer to ask. She has a distinctive voice and isn't afraid to give opinions--some that make me wince.

Lamott answered with typical honesty that nothing comes easy for her, including voice. If her writing sounds "conversational and natural," this only happens by writing "draft after draft after draft." Also, she sees improvement with her writing as she ages. What her pride demanded she keep in as a younger writer, age allows her to jettison. I found this encouraging. By the time I'm as old as Methuselah, I should have the voice thing down.

This is only an opening discussion on voice, but these fine authors and writing teachers have offered great pointers for developing voice for our characters. First, know your characters. Second, allow your characters to voice opinions. Third, add details that ground your character's voice in a culture. And last, be prepared to work for voice...and welcome birthdays.

Details of a story line may fade, but the voice remains forever in our memories. Share a story you have read with a distinctive voice. Any ideas about how the author achieved this? What helps you develop a unique voice in your stories? Is it okay to use yourself as a model for voice?

Conflict: The DNA of Fiction

Our second Audience with an Agent contest is underway. This is your opportunity to have your manuscript read by Janet Grant -- one of the premier agents in the industry -- of Books & Such Literary Agency. We will accept manuscripts until April 15. Please go to our Promotions page and carefully follow the guidelines. We look forward to reading your submission.

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April M. is the winner of last week's giveaway--Seeing Things by Patti Hill. Please contact Patti with your snail mail address through the "contact" button. Congratulations, April!

I hate conflict, hate being at odds with anyone. I do what I can to avoid it, and if a rift in relationship comes between me and another person, I do what I can to correct it. My younger sister, reflecting on our teen years, might argue the point. All I can say is, "Sorry, Janet."

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But my aversion to conflict applies only to real life. When it comes to fiction, all bets are off, for conflict is the DNA of fiction. To quote James Scott Bell, "A plot is two dogs and one bone." Plenty of room for conflict there.

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When I first began writing I shied away from this hugely important factor. I liked my protagonists, and since I had it in my power, I wanted to make their lives as easy and pleasant as possible. Or, if conflict came their way, I made sure they suffered in silence, with dignity. All that equaled one thing: B-O-R-I-N-G.

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In Stein on Writing, Sol Stein says, "Inexperienced writers ... often try to write novels with a relatively passive protagonist who wants little." But "the essence of dramatic conflict lies in the clash of wants ... The essence of plotting [is] putting the protagonist's desire and the antagonist's desire into sharp conflict." Figure out what "would most thwart your protagonist's want, then give the power to thwart that want to the antagonist." That's a perfect recipe for conflict.

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It may not be in our nature to heap trouble on our helpless heroines, but think about what you're currently reading -- or writing. Take away the conflict and what are you left with? A deflated, lifeless thing that's not worth exploring. The truth is, without conflict we have no story. Ayn Rand says simply, "The essence of plot structure is: struggle -- therefore, conflict -- therefore, climax (The Art of Fiction). There's a lot of talk about essence in those several quotes, which we can also define as DNA. But both words refer to conflict as the critical element to good fiction.

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As novelists we must give ourselves permission to be mean. American screenwriter, Syd Field, is attributed with this advice: "Get your protagonist up a tree. Throw rocks at him. Then get him down." But throwing rocks can be our stumbling stone. It just isn't in us to be that mean. Fine. Disassociate yourself if you must from the one throwing rocks. Commiserate with your protagonist. Tell her how awful you think that rock thrower is. Just get the job done. Then avoid mirrors for a day or two.

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Here are some important things to remember about conflict:

1. Conflict can be external or internal. Conflict doesn't just come from one character opposing another. It can arise from a force of nature, from war, from illness, from prejudice. Those are all external sources of conflict. But it can be internal as well, where a character is in opposition to himself.
2. Conflict should be in every scene. Conflict isn't one issue that's dealt with in a plot. If conflict is the DNA of your story, you'll find it everywhere. It must be in every scene, in every passage of dialogue, to a degree appropriate to the scene.
3. Conflict should intensify as your story unfolds. In Between the Lines, Jessica Page Morrell says, "Well-written fiction includes ever-growing dilemma, adversities, and pressure as the story progresses (emphasis mine). The conflict should build with the rising action until it reaches the boiling point. Like a set of stairs, it should be ever climbing till it reaches the top, or climax.
4. Conflict should be equal to the story. The conflict in a romance is going to be quite different from the conflict in a fast-paced thriller.
5. Conflict must matter to your reader. Back to the "clash of wants" that Sol Stein wrote about. He adds this important piece of advice. "You need to be certain that the conflicting wants are ... over something that the reader will view as important." If the stakes aren't high enough, readers aren't going to care.

There's a tremendous payoff when conflict is handled correctly. "A reader who feels anticipation, excitement, interest, or compassion is a reader who is not going to walk away from the novel till the entire story is told" (Elizabeth George in Write Away). And isn't that what we want in our fiction, as both writer and reader?

The Invisible Word

We've not mentioned all month long what our giveaway book is for January, so here it is. Everyone who comments on this post between now and Sunday will be entered in a drawing for a copy of Elizabeth George's Write Away, one of my favorite books on the craft of writing.

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One of the pleasures I've had since becoming a published writer is the opportunity to judge writing contests. I love reading the entries -- which range from a budding writer's baby steps to a writer ready for publication -- and offering counsel where I can. I've also been asked on occasion to read a full manuscript by an aspiring author. I find that most new writers make a common mistake in dialogue that identifies their work as that of a novice. It comes in the form of dialogue tags.

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Tag lines are words that precede, interrupt or follow dialogue, to indicate the speaker. The preferred tag, if there has to be a tag at all, is simply he said/she said. But in an effort to use variety, many beginning writers write something like, "I love it!" she enthused. Or "I hate it!" he groused. There are two glaring mistakes in both examples. First, the exclamation point should not be necessary to express the emotion of the statement. The statement should stand on its own. Second, enthused and groused and other words like them should never, ever be used in tag lines.

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Or how about this: "I don't know how you could say such a thing," she complained. "Oh, really? And why is that?" he questioned. "Because, I love it," she frowned. Ah me. The first line of dialogue is obviously a complaint, so she complained is redundant, as is he questioned at the end of the question in the second line of dialogue. And in the third line, well, it's impossible to frown anything you say. Words can be accompanied by a frown, a frown can stand on its own without any words whatsoever, but words cannot be frowned. So beware the verbs you use as tags.

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A first manuscript I recently read for a friend of a friend made me aware of this problem like nothing I've ever read. The author used the following tag lines in just a few short pages: she agreed; he remarked; she sighed; he sang; she nodded; he answered; she commented; he soothed; she ventured; he grinned; she sulked; he exclaimed!

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Oy vay! Never once did he say or she say. Just as you cannot frown words, you cannot nod them, soothe them, venture them, grin them, or sulk them.

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Elizabeth George, in her exceptional book Write Away: One Novelist's Approach to Fiction and the Writing Life (a book every aspiring writer should read and read and re-read), writes:

"Sometimes a writer just starting out thinks that she needs to be especially creative with her tag lines, believing that the repetition of said lacks snap and personality. Actually, said is a little miracle word that no one should abandon. What happens when a writer uses said in a tag line is that the reader's eye skips right over it. The brain takes in the name of the speaker, while the accompanying verb -- providing it's the verb said -- simply gets discarded ...

But this isn't the case of all those fancier tag lines: snarl, moan, snap, hiss, wail, whine, whimper, shout, groan, sneer, growl and all the rest of them. These call attention to themselves, and while you might use them judiciously -- although, frankly, I discourage you from using them at all -- ...you must use them with the realization that they will leap out at the reader. The situation is this: When the writing (and of course by that I mean the writer) is really doing its job, the reader will be aware that someone is shouting, snarling, thundering, moaning, or groaning. The scene will build up to it so the writer doesn't have to use any obvious words to indicate the manner in which the speaker is speaking.

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I have another book that deals with all aspects of dialogue, which I purchased years ago because of its title alone: Shut Up! He Explained. Is that great or what? William Noble concurs with Ms. George when he writes:

"... a passage of dialogue is best followed by "said." Anything else -- "shouts" or "exclaims" or "retorts," for example -- is just wasted motion. No verb ... should substitute for said ... A writer should be able to phrase dialogue so the impact of the words would be clear."

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Said is an invisible, miracle, stealth word. It does its job without drawing attention to itself. When writing dialogue, do as much as you can without tag lines. Instead of writing, I'm going to the beach house on Thursday," I said. Consider "I'm going to the beach house on Thursday." I don't tell her the rest because I'm still trying to fool even me. Not only do you identify the speaker, you advance the story at the same time.

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Dialogue is the heart of good fiction. Stilted, canned or cluttered dialogue will kill an otherwise great story. We've listed a number of excellent books on our Resources page that address the topic of dialogue. You're sure to want these in your writer's library.

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Do you have any questions about dialogue we can talk about? Have any really good examples of dialogue? How about some really bad ones?

Delayed Gratification ... Gotta Love It

We have a WINNER!

Day four of our 12 Days of Christmas contest is: Nancy January! E-mail me, Nancy, at novelmatters@gmailcom with your snail mail address and I'll get Raising Rain to you.

Five Golden Rings

I'll send Every Good & Perfect Gift and A Heavenly Christmas in Hometown to the person who can find an author's last name in today's clue: Five Golden Rings and name a title by that author -- OR -- submit a book title with one of the words from the clue along with the author's name. Submit your entry using the "Contact" button above. See complete details for our 12 Days of Christmas Book Giveaway Contest on our November 23 post. The winner will be announced Thursday afternoon, December 3.

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I can't tell you how many times I've said, "Just one more chapter," while reading a really good book, only to get to the end of that chapter, often in the wee hours of the morning, and finding I have to keep reading. Jessica Page Morrell describes such a novel as "unputdownable" (Between the Lines, pg. 37). For an author to write unputdownable fiction she must know how to create tension, and in fiction tension is vital. Like the proper drag on a fishing line, it keeps the reader hooked.

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Continuing with the theme of tension that we've been discussing the past few days, Sol Stein defines tension as "delicious moments of anxious uncertainty" (Stein on Writing, pg. 307). "Delicious moments of anxious uncertainty." What a fabulous definition of literary tension! To create such anxious uncertainty, there must be sharp opposition to your protagonist achieving his or her desires. Determine what would most thwart her objective, then give your antagonist the ability to do exactly that. And make sure there's an equal sense of urgency on both sides (Stein on Writing, pg. 83).

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James Scott Bell says, "[keep] in mind that worrying the reader is the primary goal of the middle of the book" (Plot & Structure, pg. 84). That's not an easy task when most of us are wired to solve everyone's problems, not prolong them, and the sooner the better. But as novelists that's exactly what we must do. Prolong, delay, frustrate. What a perfect -- and safe -- opportunity for our dark side to have its way. So how do you worry the reader sufficiently through that middle portion of the novel? By "(1) stretching the tension and (2) raising the stakes" (P&S, pg. 85). In order to stretch the tension there must first be a valid source of tension. Unless you're writing suspense, mystery, etc., it doesn't have to be physical danger. Opposing goals work just as well. Once you settle on a source of tension, Bell says you must "slow down. ... As you write the scene, alternate between action, thoughts, dialogue, and description" (P&S, pg. 86) so that tension is created, not only chapter by chapter, but line by line. Plot & Structure is one of my favorite books on writing. I highly recommend you read and reread it as you construct your novels.

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In another of my favorite writing manuals, Elizabeth George says you create tension by "creating scenes in which you lay down -- but do not answer! -- dramatic questions. You do this by making sure that if you do answer a dramatic question in a scene as the novel progresses, you've already laid down another" (Write Away, pg. 43) Overlap sources of tension as you weave your story and spread it around indiscriminately among your characters. This not only achieves the goal of stretching the tension, but it creates depth to your story as well, and really gives the reader something to dive into.

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For sure, it takes more than unanswered questions to keep a reader turning the page. There must be characters we care about, a plot line that engages, and dynamic dialogue. But one of the key factors is knowing how and for how long to delay gratification. Resist the urge to "fix" everything for a character who's in trouble. Continually frustrate your characters' objectives. Don't tie up each chapter ending in a perfect little bow. As much as possible, keep the line taut. Don't give the reader a place to say, "Ah, at last, a place where I can close the book for a while." No, no, no. Don't give them space even to catch their breath, not till the final scene. In so doing you provide a good read for your audience, but even more, you create for them a memorable reading experience.

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What have you read lately that kept you on the line? How did the author achieve that and keep you turning the pages?

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Between the Lines, Plot & Structure and Write Away can be found on our Resources page.

Setting as Character

Happy Monday morning.

A few things to tell/remind you: Something new and cool! Love Twitter? Books & Such agency is hosting "Writers' Night Out" on Twitter!

Log on to Twitter on July 22, between 7-9 CST

hash tag is #wno

You could win books (including copies of books by NovelMatters authors), critiques (award winning authors offering to read your ms!), coaching (award winning authors chatting with you about your writing, your hopes, and how to make it happen!) & MORE!

You'll also be able to chat with authors, agents, and just have a fun time. We hope to hear from you!
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I'd like to remind you of our great book giveaways this month, compliments of David C. Cook Publishers: Christy-Award winning Blue Hole Back Home by Joy Jordan Lake and Safe at Home by Richard Doster. Leave a comment for a chance to win one of these excellent novels.

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And don't forget our incredible, one-of-a-kind, Audience with an Agent contest. July 31 is the last day for you to get your synopsis and first chapter to us. The winning entry will be read by agent Wendy Lawton of Books & Such Literary Agency for possible representation. This really is an amazing opportunity. Go to our Promotions page for contest guidelines. We look forward to reading your submission.

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One of my favorite books on writing is Elizabeth George's Write Away: One Novelist's Approach to Fiction and the Writing Life, which is obvious by the ridiculous number of various-colored sticky tabs jutting from the margins. On some I've written notes like "Yes!" "Absolutely!" and "Whole Page!" The colored tabs had some significance once upon a time, but I've long forgotten what pink signifies, or orange, or green. And I add more tabs and colors each time I go through it. I suppose I should just highlight the whole thing and be done with it. As I read through it again, I've made a vow to at least skim the chapters every time I get ready to start a new manuscript. It's that good.

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What jumps out at me this time through is the need to treat setting as though it were a character. "Any reasonable student of writing would ask how on earth a writer does this. How does anyone ever make a place come to life in such a way that it becomes an unforgettable part of the reading experience?" The answer is, a setting must be as well fleshed out as any other character, by the use of specific and telling details. It can't be selected on a whim, with no purpose in mind; but it must feed into the story if it's to accomplish what Ms. George suggests.

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The classics are full of examples where setting becomes an unforgettable part of the novel. The old curiosity shop in Dickens' novel by the same name, Manderley, Treasure Island, Tara, Middle Earth. These settings are as important to their stories as the characters who haunt them.

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But how many contemporary novelists write as though they really understand the importance of setting? I can think of a few off the top of my head. Ted Dekker masterfully uses setting as character in almost all his books. The bayou in both Athol Dickson's River Rising and Tim Downs' First the Dead are an unforgettable part of both stories. And Pisgah Ridge and the swimming spot in Blue Hole Back Home are as integral to the story as Turtle, Jimbo, Emerson and the New Girl.

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Novel writing is a complex endeavor. A good work of fiction must be constructed layer upon layer if it's to resonate with the reader and become a memorable piece of literature. And to be effective the end result must seem effortless. No small task, that's for sure. The more we learn about what goes into a good novel, the better equipped we'll be to excel at our craft. With this chapter from Write Away fresh in my mind, I'm making it my goal to develop the setting in my WIP as though it were a living character, as important to the story as my protagonist and plot. Because, in fact, it is.

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What examples can you share of setting as character in your favorite books? Would the story have been the same with a different setting or a less-developed one?