We Need to Talk About Your Adjectives

Adverbs. We’ve made a big deal about them in recent years. Readers, it has been declared, hate them (fine, though I strongly suspect most don’t care that much if they enjoy the story), They weaken prose, so off with their heads.

I could argue that well-chosen adverbs make for punchy prose packed with panache (just ask Arthur Plotnik), but the general point is well made. Killing off the “ly” words does tidy up the place. And writers have complied. We’ve had our ah-ha moments and killed off swaths of  “ly” words.

Before we take too deep a bow for our writerly stroke of genius, I draw your attention to the forgotten noun. Or, more accurately, the flabby adjective your nouns are resting on like sleeping old men atop waterbeds.

Nouns matter.

Last week Latyane pointed us to some neuroscience experiments that have recorded physical effects on the brain from reading fiction. This makes sense because most complex tasks inflict physical changes in the brain and reading fiction—words that are complex symbols that represent symbols of real things—is nothing if not complex.

I’ve pounded the noun drum before and I’m tattooing again in the context of thelingering shadows in a reader’s brain. When we read, we accomplish an astonishing array of tasks all without moving a muscle. Our brain scans words on a page, interprets the symbols correctly, and builds a complex system that, if it were extracted from a reader’s brain, would resemble a close proximity to real life with all its subtlety, brutality, and interact relationships. Reading is an act of stunning creativity. And what aids

readers in their creative act is nouns they can build on.

Recently I read a new writer’s attempt to create a scene. There were the usual newbie mistakes, including a floating POV, overly descriptive prose, and telling rather than showing. Still, it was the writer’s use of adjectives that stood out to me. In two sentences the writer used nine adjectives.

Nine.

I panicked a little. Went to my work-in-progress and scanned the manuscript looking for adjectives. I found a sample roughly the same length as the one with all the adjectives. Because I suspected I was a more experienced writer, I decided to count the adjectives in four sentences, rather than two.

One.

The adjective? Bowline.

Maybe I was just lucky. I chose another passage, another four sentences.

Zero.

Then I hunted up some favorite novels, the kinds that have stayed with me and played out in my memory for years.

I’m certain you can guess the outcome.

Nouns are the objects in which our brains build the worlds suggested to us in novels. Shadow-makers. The stronger the noun, the more certain the building blocks.

Adjectives are helpful when clarity is needed.

“His left arm.”

“She rolled into a protective ball.”

Precision is the goal for all writing—better to use a precise noun than to try to prop it up with an adjective.

So, where is the fun in adjectives? Modern writing is full of them (thank heavens!), and it’s important that we don’t leave this article thinking the point is to kill all the adjectives and leave it at that.

Kill the flabby ones and replace the noun it was propping up. Then, have some fun with adjectives, using them freely and creatively in ways that help readers build worlds in their imaginations.

Here is an example from my current work-in-progress, Trillium, with the adjectives highlighted:

I was drowning. Being eaten alive by a shallow creek. Dying beside a cow, of all things. No one believes they would die beside a cow. Every breath found only liquid. I thrashed, kicking my legs while trying to free my right arm from the elbow-deep mud, which meant pushing down with my left arm, sinking it deeper into the muck.

There was a splash. Loud. Nearby. Not made by me. I was kicking in mud, and this was the sound of water. My name. Drawn out like a yodel, Fiiiioooooooooooona. Splash. Twice more. My yodel name, then splash. “Grab the rope!”

Rope. Cory. Help.

Hit your manuscripts and go adjective hunting. If you want, come back and tell us how it went. How many frivolous ones did you kill? What about the creative uses? Can you think of a novel you read that dragged you down in adjectives? Share your thoughts, examples, grousings, and chocolate cookies in the comment section. 

Carpe Annum--Seize the Year! We Can All Be Astonishing

Today's post began as a Facebook status update. I wrote it earlier this week but I can't say why I wrote it. Meaning, I can't point to a particular event or circumstance that served as a catalyst for it. Sometimes life offers the pinprick of inspiration for such things (in novel writing we call it the inciting incident), but I'm hard pressed to come up with one for these thoughts. Probably because, much as we'd like it to, life doesn't work the way fiction does. Our cause and effect are often too far apart for us to clearly see them as a pair. (The job of the novelist is to bring personal cause and effect close enough together on the page for the reader to see, understand that this event brought about that event, and allow enough room for the reader to ponder how her past plays out in her present.)

Here's the status update I wrote on Facebook:

"The next time I read a book I think is badly written, or not up to my standard, or sags in the middle, or whatever, I'm going to remind myself that what I'm reading is a person's attempt to create something. And that act of creation, that attempt alone is astonishing. 

We've left ourselves in a world that will tear apart anything that smells of novice. But we've got it wrong. We need more cheering sections and less critics. We need more pom-poms and less pomp.
I need to be that fanatic encourager, for the sake of the art, yes, but more for my own sake. When I cheer for others, the clouds break above my head and I can begin to see the world as limitless. I begin to see that I too can dare to create something. That we can all be astonishing."

The comments under the update were as interesting as I could have hoped for. People were quick to separate constructive critique (which we strongly believe in) from criticism--the kind of negative review that is all scathe and no insight--which is an important distinction. I was gratified to read the conversations that took place around this topic (I often lose control of my FB wall and it is taken over by people who have conversations with each other. I enjoy this very much). 

The main point, however, is the emphasis on creation. The act of creating is, to many artists, sacred. A kind of sanctified place, if not utterly holy at least butting up against the edge of it. We employ this perspective frequently when we ourselves are writing--creating--and later when we feel the burn once the book is handed over to an editor, knowing it will not be spared the knife. I love everything about these moments of creation, editing--remodelling, recreating--precisely because I feel apart of something larger than myself.

Too often, I forget the cosmic-closeness feeling when I pick up someone else's novel. I ignore the fact that this writer too fell into the pool of creativity and taught herself to swim. Instead, I can be quick to criticize her stroke. I forgive my own flailing, my own ragged gasps as I nearly drowned in the eddy of hopeful creation, yet I press the other writer to impress me a deftness I myself do not possess.

And that is where my Carpe Annum lies. Part of how I plan to seize 2013 and make it my own is to promise myself that I will never forget the wonder, the astonishment of the creative act no matter who is creating. I love and respect story. That means, by extension, I love and respect those who work to create story. 

Love and respect. We can all be astonishing.

That's my Carpe Annum promise.

Tell us how you plan to Carpe Annum.

Storyteller or Status Seeker?

Yesterday wasn't what I'd planned. It was day five of a rip-roaring migraine that required a trip to the doc and the ER. And I had such a perfect follow-up to Katy's beautiful post on Wednesday. Well, this is a rerun of a post I wrote way back before most of you joined our writer's community. I still like the point that Donald Maas made about the difference between Storytellers and Status Seekers, so let's revisit it, shall we? 

~

It's a common experience among readers. We discover a new writer and devour everything he or she produces. After the first few offerings, the writing drops off. Storylines aren't quite as compelling. Gaping holes plague the plot. Language and style become mundane. The endings die and, quite frankly, stink.
~
Donald Maass, known in writing circles for his The Breakout Novel, has written another writing must-read, Fire in Fiction. Maass has been watching this phenomenon of mediocrity for thirty years. According to Maass, the decline can be explained by motivation. He classifies writers as Storytellers or Status Seekers.
~
A Storyteller has a passion to spin stories while the Status Seeker's desire is for publication. Oh, the Status Seeker talks about the desire to polish craft in the beginning, but if they are thwarted by rejection, they follow the common wisdom of getting the manuscript back in the mail and keeping it there. They get frustrated and consider landing an agent or contract a matter of timing or luck. A Storyteller is likely to pull the manuscript after a rejection slip. They see rejection as evidence that something is missing. They take the time to develop skills to write a superb story. Once contracted, the Status Seekers are most interested in what kind of blurbs they can acquire, and how much will be spent of the cover, and how much support the publisher is willing to ante in.
~
If you feel like you're being poked with a stick, I'm rubbing sore spots too. But Maass isn't finished yet. He goes on to say that Storytellers spend their time writing, not endless promotion:
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Storytellers have a more realistic grasp of retail realities. They may promote, but locally and not for long. They'll put up a website, maybe, then it's back to work on the next book. That's smart. The truth, for new authors anyway, is that the best promotion is between the covers of the last book.

~
Whoa! This is counter to much of what we learn at writers conferences. We're pushed to have an Internet presence (ahem, like this blog!) that works like a net to bring in readers. Build a platform, we're told. Send out newsletters and e-blasts. Market to libraries. Twitter. Facebook. Market, market, and market some more. Maass redirects that focus:
~
Storytellers ignore the ephemera. Their mid-career focus is hitting deadlines and delivering powerful stories for their readers. The issues that come up are about developing their series or what to write as their next stand-alone.~
Maass wants writers to stop waiting for the "magic" that will push their novels up the best-seller list and embrace the passion of the art. Success doesn't depend on the publisher. It's completely up to the Storyteller.
~
Hmm.
~
Where have you seen decline in quality in novelists you've followed? Tell me what you think of Maass' delineation between storytellers and status seekers? Is he right? Wrong? If you're a writer, could you turn a deaf ear to all the marketing madness and focus more on your craft? How would you do that? Let's talk about this! I'm dying to hear what you think.

Start Flapping!

I read Ariel's and Latayne's posts on why they don't read certain books--and all of your comments--with a mix of delight and terror. On one hand, I cheered what we all find annoying--clumsiness, predictability, and weather reports. My personal dis-qualifier is clutter. Superfluous words are like fingernails on the chalkboard to me.

On the other hand, I held your comments up to my work in progress like a template and found myself swimming in a sea of self-doubt.

Oh dear, I write in first person.



Is there enough rising antagonism to hold a reader?



Why are there so many characters in this story? Could some of you please go home?

It's a miracle, really, that we connect with readers at all.

Rather than slump into depression, I gave myself a pep talk: You can't please everyone, Miss Patti! You will not sell your books to every English-speaker in the world. But you will find an audience, albeit a small one, if you write to please yourself. (This sounds selfish, but it is writing to what God created me to write.)

Wait! My self-lecture isn't over until I recite these words from Henry James:

"Art derives a considerable part of its beneficial exercise from flying in the face of presumptions."

I have a particular example for what James is talking about that delights me. After hearing Kate DiCamillo speak at the Festival of Faith and Writing, I bought her novel, The Miraculous Journey of Edward Tulane to read on the plane. DiCamillo writes young adult fiction brilliantly. You may know her from The Tale of Despereaux and Because of Winn-Dixie.


I'm so glad she ignored one of the golden nuggets of fiction writing: Avoid passive characters like the plague. They're boring, the worst kind of insult an author can inflict on a reader.

In DiCamillo's story, Edward is a china rabbit. He can't move or speak. He is hopelessly subject to the whims of a succession of owners. He spends a good deal of time on the bottom of the ocean and under increasing loads of trash in a dump. He is an observer of life.

And yet, once I started reading, I couldn't stop. DiCamillo takes a china rabbit on an adventure that transforms him, and me, forever.

All we said this week about what we didn't want to read has spurred me on to tighten my craft while flapping my wings with the goal of shattering presumptions.

Please, please, please share any works of fiction you believe fly in the face of presumption and do it so beautifully that they have become a favorite.

Complex Conflict

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.

When it comes to conflict, we writers err in one of two ways – we fail to inject our stories with conflict, or, we pile on so many problems the story becomes a confusing muddle.

I love Sharon’s Monday post. She reminds us the conflict isn’t always combat, and it isn’t even always big.

I read a fiction proposal recently that was so overstuffed with “insurmountable obstacles” I couldn’t figure out what the story was about. It seemed to be about everything.

In the excellent book The Anatomy of Story (recommended by one of our readers, thanks Becky!), John Truby tells the writer that you need a central conflict. This is what “your story is about at the most essential level.” He offers a breathtakingly simple method for getting a sense of the central conflict; “Ask yourself “Who fights whom over what?” and answer the question in one succinct line.”

While answering this question won’t give you the whole picture of conflict in your story, it is the back bone and once you have answered it, you can ensure that the rest of the conflict you create ties back to this one, central issue. To reference Syd Field’s advice from Sharon’s post, knowing your central conflict will help you to know which rocks to throw at your protagonist that will, eventually, get her out of that tree.

You want to ensure the rocks you throw relate to the central conflict and, occasionally hit their target. Throw stones at the protagonists main goal or motivation, chuck some at her values, too. While you’re at it, have your other characters throw some stones at each other, making sure that their conflict plays into or effects the main character’s conflict in some way.

What is the point of all this conflict? Why is fiction driven by it? Because pressure on your protagonist will force him to change – and that is the key to fiction; demonstrating the human condition in flux. We believe in our ability to change ourselves (and often, in Christian fiction, God’s influence on changing us for the better). For better or worse, the human condition is morphing and we writers are running to capture the process with our words.

Surely all art is the result of having been in danger, of having gone through an experience all the way to the end, to where no one can go any further. ~ Rainer Maria Rilke

What about you? Are you picky about the rocks you throw at your protagonist? What are your thoughts about conflict in fiction? We’d love to hear from you.

Words We Don't Need

Wordsmithing is futzy stuff. Tweak, twist- we forever hover over and nudge words into place, only to pluck and plop them elsewhere. Writing is sensory. It’s only right when it feels perfect. When we read it and sigh, or exclaim, or clap our hands and experience the undulations of emotion though the backdoor of words.

Writers and readers can do that – fully feel the lives and emotions of people who exist only on the page. For them, words are as pungent as sliced onions, as shocking as a plunge in a cold creek. For the writer and the reader – words are transformed into the stuff of life.

How does a writer take the human experience and transform it into dots and dashes in such a way that it transmits truth to the reader through the telling of a story that is a complete fabrication? One way is the writer’s pursuit of clarity.

Clarity in writing is an exercise in vigilance. The most complicated, complex ideas can be conveyed beautifully in simple language. And the simplest ideas can become hopelessly obtuse if bogged down in useless wording.

In my limited experience, I’ve discovered a handful of words that distract from clarity – words we don’t need in fiction writing. See if you agree with my short list:

1) Significant. A word with this many syllables should be important and useful, but in fiction writing, it isn’t. It’s vague – and while there are times a story calls for a slight of hand, a cloaked clue, it doesn’t require willy-nilly words that take up so much room and say so little. Consider a sentence I heard on the radio the other day: “The bomb went off in a crowded downtown area causing a significant amount of damage.” Tell me, news announcer dude – how could a bomb go off in a crowded downtown area and cause an insignificant amount of damage? I’m voting this word off the island!

2) Because. This is a useful word in everyday conversation, but it doesn’t belong in fiction. The word because is an explaining word – Suzy smacked Jane upside the head because Jane took Suzy’s best shoes without asking. This is a great sentence when chatting around the office water cooler. But, if you are writing a scene in which Suzy smacks Jane upside the head, the reader should be fully aware of what is going on and why. If you need to explain to the reader why something happened, you need to back up and take another run at the story. “Because” is built into the story. Casting my vote – off the island!

3) Just. I’m amazed how often this four letter word creeps into my writing. I do a universal search of my manuscripts to search and destroy this word. Why doesn’t it belong in writing? It doesn’t say anything – it’s meaningless. We tend to lean on this word crutch because we think it adjusts the emotional impact of our sentence. We use it the same way we may use adverbs in an attempt to punch up the emotional volume of a sentence; I’m just disgusted! (I’m disgusted). We insert “just” to dial the emotional tone down. I’m just kidding. (I’m kidding). Alternatively, we use it to add a sense of immediacy. I just can’t believe what I just saw! (I can’t believe what happened). No matter how you use just, it’s a filler word – one we don’t need in fiction writing. Just- pack your bags, you’re outta here.

Other words I do search and destroy missions on:

Real (really)

Some

Very

Simply

At all

Began to

Managed to

What have I missed? What word crutches have you kicked to the curb? How has it improved your writing? Please share because I’m just certain we can learn a significant amount from your really, very real experiences!

Watch Your Mouth, Young Man

Let me take you back to Friday, August 14 on this blog, to the insightful (and incitive) guest post by Zondervan editor Andy Meisenheimer. Do you remember all the conversation he stirred up by implying that a writer might find better ways to spend her time than hanging out on Twitter or Facebook or even (ulp!) her blog?

Well let me tell you, that was nothing - nothing - compared to the kerfuffle raised amongst us bloggers here at Novel Matters before his post even went live. Really, you have no idea. Well - If you were observant, you might have noticed this phrase: “this book sucked but they have such a (killer) brand" If you were impressively astute you might have guessed at the reason behind the parentheses.

But probably not, so I'll tell you: In the original, Andy didn't say "killer." He said something that started with the same letter, only... less seemly.

We couldn't believe it.

Because Andy and his ilk had told us more than once that this word or that word was unacceptable to a Christian audience. And I'm talking about words a lot milder than (killer). So what would we do? Edit the editor?

Believe it or not, we didn't all agree.

I'm a non-swearer myself - mostly. I hardly ever, almost never say a bad word. There have even been memorable occasions when I dropped heavy objects on my foot and bravely clenched my lips against the barrage of expletives clamoring just this side of my teeth.

However, I was raised not so much in church as in Alcoholics Anonymous (my mother stopped drinking when I was seven). And growing up, I knew a lot of very good and brave people for whom naughty language was the native tongue. To this day it's hard - though not impossible - to offend me with swear words.

Not only that, but my personal take is that we Christians sometimes get a bit too precious about the whole thing. Because Jesus said if you call your brother a fool you are in danger of judgment. "Fool" is not a cuss word; it's a put-down. And there are those among us who would never say (killer) but would call you a fool twice a day. So my first reaction to Andy's transgression was "Oh, what the heck."

Oh boy. I didn't even notice Andy had used a no-no word. Let me explain.

Soon after becoming a Christian, I abandoned my bad-girl vocabulary and thought less of anyone who used swear words, whatever their belief system. I asked people not to use certain language around me. The result? I became a holier-than-thou personality and a caricature of a churchgoer. My zeal for the menial built a wall between me and those around me.

And then...one night at Bible study, a young man said something like this: Our most powerful witness is to walk humbly alongside the lost as sinners saved by grace.

As I grow in my ability to walk humbly in this world, my need to edit people's vocabulary has lessened. After all, Jesus probably heard swear words as he hung on the cross. His response was to die for them. This is why I don't have a knee-jerk reaction to swear words.

But I don't use swear words in my novels.

Why?

Because they would be a stumbling block to readers, and I love my readers. We are the body of Christ! Besides, creativity without any strictures is not creativity at all. The challenge for the inspirational writer is to convey intensity of emotion with truly powerful language and action. Honestly, it would be a lot easier to use swear words.

And so, I voted to leave Andy's original words. There are so many other things more worthy of our passion.

~
When Andy sent me his guest post via e-mail I read it through - not with the intention to edit, but because, well, because I could. I loved its meaty goodness, it metaphorical bent, and its insider fun. This, I thought, is (killer).

I set about scheduling the post, but a wee voice in my head said, "(Killer) though it is, some may not appreciate the vernacular [My inner voice sounds very much like Stephen Fry]. I sent out a quick e-mail to my co-bloggers: Andy's post contains the word (killer). Are we okay with that? The six of us took the back roads getting to the answer.

Whenever you ask a novelist a question, expect a long, well thought out multi-dimensional response. It's to be expected. Ask six novelists and, well, I hope you packed a lunch. Those of us who agreed to leave in (killer) agreed for very different reasons. Those who preferred an edit did so for very different reasons. Me? Well, I was more like Pontius Pilate, trying to wash my hands of the whole thing. Edit Andy? Well, gee - how would that go over? I actually like this guy as a person as well as an editor. But risk offending readers? No!

It was a gong show for awhile there. What if I just posted a disclaimer? [Early risers may have seen it Friday morning before it was unceremoniously deleted]. What if we added dashes? If Lisa Samson* can get away with it, why not us? So many issues to consider. For me, the decision to change it became clear when I asked myself, "What compelling reason do we have to leave (killer) in? What great purpose is the word serving?" The word didn't strengthen Andy's idea, wasn't necessary to convey meaning - it other words; editable.

We want to hear from you - naughty language in your Christian fiction? Where do you draw lines? [Keep in mind, in an interesting and deliberate oversight, we left in the word "sucks"] Do you put a book down if it contained certain language?

*Lisa Samson employed the use of dashes for profanity in her latest, The Passion of Mary Margaret.
~

I confess to objecting to the questionable word Andy used in his guest post a week ago Friday, the (killer) word that was edited out. I respect the opinions of those in our NovelMatters group who voted to leave Andy's post as it was submitted to us, but I also appreciate their willingness to edit out the offensive word.

~

Profanity has become so commonplace in our society that it's easy to become desensitized to its usage. The argument for or against profanity in Christian literature is endless and one we'll never all agree on. We don't even agree on what constitutes profanity. But here's where I'm coming from. As a Christian author I feel my books, my blog, my website, whatever I put out there from a professional, public platform is my pulpit. I believe I'm held to a standard of conduct of which Christ would approve, and to me that means taking care not to offend those who read what I write, not to place a stumblingblock in anyone's path, and most especially not to offend the One I represent. Liberty isn't always license.

~

Yeah, we rub shoulders with the world, we don't live in a bubble. But who's supposed to be influencing whom? I have a feeling this will generate a lively debate. We look forward to your input.

Audience, Purpose, and Voice

WE HAVE A WINNER!! Connie, please contact me with your full name and mailing address at novelmatters@gmail.com. Empty your calendar to read Latter-Day Cipher!

Oh my, this is the last Friday of the month! It's time to give something away. Earlier this month, Latayne gifted five of her debut novels, but she's too generous to stop there. At 4 pm MT today, I'll draw a name from today's commenters for yet another copy of Latter-Day Cipher. So, if you've been lurking, now is the time to speak up. This is an amazing book. I would love to be reading it right now, but first my blog...

We'll get ourselves into trouble (What's new about that?) if we forget how wide a spectrum of readers turn to CBA for fiction. I once followed two women into a local Christian bookstore. I don't know what their particular hangups were with fashion, but let's just say they wore sensible shoes and kerchiefs on their heads. I followed behind in shorts and sandals. They walked a bullet-line to the fiction section and filled their arms with six to eight novels each. I remember thinking, I'm in big trouble if that's my target audience. My characters shave their legs and wrestle with God. Would these women be interested? I had my doubts.

Enter the neglected Christian fiction readers, men and women who prefer their fiction to deal with questions that the author is content to leave unanswered--full of beautifully crafted stories and populated with characters straight from life, only a bit larger, in a personality way, than folks we're likely to meet.

The key is knowing your audience or who you are as an audience. I can't remember where I learned this, but I keep this simple truth in mind as I write: According to Aristotle, there are three crucial elements to writing. Audience. Purpose. Voice. I find this to be especially true in the CBA market. Depending on the audience subset of the CBA market, purpose and voice are modified.

For instance, if the audience is looking for validation, a writer would avoid story lines with uncomfortable scenarios, language, or characters. These books are the Louis L'Amour books of CBA. Sure, L'Amour tackles issues of loyalty, hard work, and the value of a quick draw, but nothing any red-blooded, wannabe cowboy would question. We're not making a value judgement here, just identifying audiences. And CBA caters to these readers, no apologies required.

Another audience in the CBA market wants to read--and the genre doesn't matter--fiction that asks questions that aren't necessarily answered. They aren't afraid to look at faith matters in fresh ways, although they're sticklers for theological rectitude. They still want to be entertained, but they're willing to follow the writer's lead through snaky cognitive hoops. This kind of fiction requires the author to trust her audience to participate in the journey. Hopefully, the story and characters stay with the reader long after the last page has been read.

These are just two CBA audiences. There are many more, like those who want fiction they can hand off to their non-believing friends, or character-building reads with strong moral lessons for young readers, or fiction that encapsulates an important faith lesson--think end times or spiritual warfare. Recognizing that we have varying subsets of readers may help us to value what each artist brings to the table, but I'm with Anonymous. Schlock is never appropriate. (I hope we talk someday soon about why schlock, beyond the fact that there's a vast audience for this "genre," is among our biggest sellers. Hear my heart deflating?)

For readers, do you fit in one of these CBA subsets? Which one and why? For writers, who is your audience? How do you write to meet their needs? Care to define a CBA subset I missed? Anyone? Anyone? Is there a subset you consider inappropriate?

Speak amongst yourselves. I'm going to read Latter-Day Cipher. I'll be dropping by.

Topic of the Week: Branding

Hello and top of the week to all you stimulating readers! Have we told you lately how much we enjoy interacting with you?

Don’t forget that if you post a comment on any of our topics this month you are in the running to win a Patti Hill library of four books. This lady was nominated for a Christy Award. She’s a terrific writer!

Our topic of the week is branding. Patti, Sharon, Katy, Debbie and I all attended a retreat last fall in which Jeanette Thomason gave a terrific presentation on branding. She identified it as 1) identity, 2) positioning or position in the marketplace and 3) distinctiveness.

On Wednesday, Sharon will give some wonderful insights about branding in general, from her own struggles with the concept and from Randy Ingermanson. However, for today’s post I’d like to examine the idea of a branding statement.

Jeanette said that such a statement should include key components (though not necessarily all) from the following list:

place in time
audience or market/s
category or types or genre
unique tone or tribe or flavor
topics or themes

When I wrote my branding statement (found in my January 19th post), I had to try to corral an established career that has covered all kinds of topics in many different genres. (I’m nothing if not versatile.) What did all this have in common? The fact that when I tackle a topic, I attempt to look it “straight in the eye." That idea became the core of my branding statement.

The publicity team at Zondervan loved my branding statement and are using it in publicity for my upcoming non-fiction, The Mormon Mirage. It had to work equally well, however for my upcoming novel Latter-day Cipher.

How about you? Do you have a branding statement? Or do you know of an effective one used by another author?

Which Ends to Tie?

We're talking about loose ends this week - which ones belong in a novel and which ones must be snipped, tied, and put into place.

No quick answers here. There is no clear template to apply (thank heavens!), which dictates which elements of a story must be tidied up, and which are allowed to flow on, drift toward a yet unwritten future.

But how can you decide?

It helps to understand how words work.

Words move us. The communication of ideas happens most effectively when multiple senses are employed in the reading of words. We read a phrase:

She washed berries by the handful.

And it sends a picture - no, not a picture, but a multitude of pictures nearly simultaneously - until a favorite picture takes precedence.

We picture "she"
Not any "she". Our "she". The best "she" for us. The one we want to picture.










We sift through our ideas, our notions of "she".










We settle on the one we want her to be.

We picture "berries"

Our favorite - red and perfect.









Or exotic and wild.













I see in my mind the ideal berry. I see what "berry" means to me. I imagine what it means to you.











. . .and "handful"

Two full hands, or one? Rough or smooth. Stained or wet.










. . .and "washed".

. . . from a garden hose or a kitchen sink.

We settle on one aspect of the image, then another, rapidly viewing, discarding and deciding on components of the scene until our mind forms a complete whole. The process takes milli-seconds.

This is why the question of loose threads is difficult. Because irresistible fiction becomes a nearly endless procession of deeply personal images in the minds of each reader.

We take the words on the page and recreate their meaning in our minds - and the images we form become the truth about the book. They become the book's meaning.

The author then, must think about the best possibilities the best collection of ideas to wrap up, complete and finish off in the book - and then must consider which threads to leave loose, which elements of the story to leave untamed in order to best serve the story and the reader.

It's not a crap shoot - it's not a guess. It is instead the writer's artful dancing with the reader she loves - they dance to the music of the story.

We do the same thing with a story - when we read, we begin to "own" the story. We recreate it in our minds. And we build expectations in our mind about what we need to know (to be told) and what we already know (want left latent in the story). What we want to have happen, and what we are willing to let go of.

Loose thread should never be an excuse for not finishing a story - rather they will, by the images they create, the feelings they evoke, reveal themselves to us - but only if we dance to the music long enough to learn all the steps.