Wasted Potential: Talk the Talk

Last time I talked about relationship between characters. One has to interact with the setting and in the plot, too, but I'm a big character person so that's where I tend to focus. One thing I didn't really get into, but should have, is a big aspect of both revealing a character and developing relationships: dialog.

I love dialog. I mean I really love dialog. If there's an aspect of writing I really take pride in, it's my dialog.

Ironically, even though I love dialog, in reality I don't speak like regular people do. Rather than let that bother me, I have a tendency to use that to my advantage. Why? Because I usually include at least one character who speaks much like I do (stupidly large vocabulary, esoteric words in ordinary usage and usually complete sentences). Those characteristics in speech pattern allow the reader to automatically pick up on many aspects of my character painlessly, making revealing him or her that much easier. It also provides contrast to other characters who speak in ways more in keeping with "typical," but even that varies by age and background and social standing, etc.

What I mean is dialog is a great way to provide contrast to your characters. The great character authors I know all get this. I can go back and read pages of dialog where I could completely skip the "so and so said" bits and I'd still know who was talking because the characters have distinctive voices and styles and concerns. If you go back and read your dialog (and read it out loud because nothing highlights crappy dialog like reading it out loud) and both sides sound the same, you'd better go back and fix it unless they're identical twins that share the same brain. Which would be cool, but I digress.

By varying the way people speak, you can readily portray youth, inexperience, education, attitude, thoughtfulness, emotionality, perspective... Really, everything. It's not just the things they say, but how they say it, their phrasing, vocabulary, syntax. Even the pauses and lack of speaking can say a great deal about character. Really, I can't stress enough how important, how vital, vibrant contrasting dialog is to making your characters distinct and alive.

A note about dialect: Most advice I've read on dialects and distinctly different pronunciation has said, "don't show it." As with most rules, I'm of the opinion that you should use that rule unless your story suffers by it. Truth is, reading dialect is hard for many people and, if readers are frustrated trying to figure out what the character's supposed to sound like or what they're saying, one can make a good argument that it's counterproductive. Additionally, and I mean this most kindly, most people can't write it believably worth a damn (and don't realize that they can't). That reason alone should give anyone pause before they decide to try, because, if the stuff that's right gives a reader pause, the stuff that sucks will make the reader pull their hair. And it makes the writer look like a hack. Probably not what you're going for.

Having said all that, dialect can provide a contrast. In generally, I do not advocate writing it all out phonetically, but putting in dropped consonants ("Just sayin'.") or specific words with a distinctive sound that speak to the character ("me darlin'" vs. "my darling" or even "dahling") can go a long way to setting a character apart and giving the reader a feel for a character's voice (or even "who" they are). I also have to mention that, when someone really nails dialect, it can be fantastic, as in James Herriot's hilarious memoirs, which would not be the same without the many many different dialects he puts in.

Give the dialog voice. Dialog can not only make or break your characters and their relationships, bad dialog can really bog down a story and make it sound fake. Stiff uninteresting dialog (particularly if it's used to expose some key elements) can quickly sound stilted and contrived, clumsy and, well, boring. Dialog should not sound like narration (unless you're deeply in third person POV and the narration has similar voice). Dialog should not sound like a news report; it does not need to be objective, unemotional or polite unless your character is. It should not sound professorial unless your character is. Witty characters should be sarcastic and smart, but every statement doesn't have to be a quip (in fact it can't be without sounding stupid). Put in emotions, stuttering, shocked pauses, inflammatory language, spoken (i.e. poor) grammar in as realistic way as possible. It needs to be alive and full of color and personality or you might as well have narrated it. Let me show you an example:

"Stop it," he said, when she flumped down next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. He shrugged to dislodge her, but she just moved with him and gave him a grin. "I'm trying to study here."

"You're always studying. My brother says you've become positively dull. Talk to me instead."

"Cory can speak for himself. If I'm so dull, go away." He could feel the heat of her body through his clothes and the distraction was sending his heart racing. "Don't you have something better to do than bug your brother's best friend?"

She hugged his arm and rubbed the side of her head against his shoulder. "No."

Vs.

"Gah! You brat, get off," he said, when she flumped down next to him and laid her head on his shoulder. He shrugged to dislodge her, but she just moved with him and gave him a grin. "Can't you see I'm working here? Some of us have to study."

"Ha! Like you need to study. My brother says you're already setting the curve. You never even come up for air. I'm doing my civic duty by peeling you away from those books before you turn into an old man. Play with me."

"Cory's supposed to be studying, too. If he's got a complaint, he can tell me himself instead of getting his kid sister to do his dirty work. Get lost before you catch my senility." He could feel the heat of her body through his clothes and the distraction was sending his heart racing. "Don't you social butterflies always have things to do? Shopping? Group trips to the bathroom? Facebook flaming? Why don't you flutter away and leave me in peace?"

She hugged his arm and rubbed the side of her head against his shoulder. "Peace? No way! That's the last thing I'm going to leave you with."

In the first one, though we're saying effectively the same thing (and everything outside the quotes is identical), there's an entirely different feel to the characters. In the first, he's studious and distracted by her presence (friend's sister) and she's trying to get his attention. However, it's not clear how he's affected, how well these two know each other, whether her rather attraction/distraction is deliberate or innocent. In the second, it's wordier, but we have a better sense of both him and her. You can get a sense of offense from being characterized as studious (and responds with an attack on her perceived frivolousness). Clearly, they know each other as more than just passing acquaintances. Just as clearly, she has some knowledge of her effect on him and is doing it deliberately.

Make it realistic but not too realistic. Real conversations between real people are, largely, dull. If you recorded your conversations with everyone you spoke to during the day, you'd be nodding off in minutes. We tend to talk inconsequential nonsense a large portion or the time. It's like certain sports - fun to play, dull as dishwater to watch. So, you need to excise those portions from real conversation that don't do anything for the story, for character development, for entertainment. You don't want movie dialog, quite, where (if written well) it's all witty and stuff. But you want a dialog that, if you heard it in a movie or a TV show, wouldn't make you want to switch channels. It's got to sound realistic (like people might actually have this conversation so not wall to wall quips and only significant statements) without sounding like a "typical" conversation with all the trivial nonsense. Again, I can't stress enough reading dialog out loud before you get happy with it. Get an audience if you can, one that will tell you the truth.

Don't say everything. People don't tell everything they're thinking, say everything that comes across their minds (except for a very very small number of irksome folks). So, if your characters explain everything, every key aspect of a situation, every nuance of their emotional state, they won't seem very realistic. People automatically edit. They keep some things secret ("You hurt my feelings by saying that.") or expect people to pick up implications ("Obviously, if someone so incompetent is getting a promotion, she's banging the boss."). If someone is telling another character about a problem, they will likely expect the other to pick up implications or deduce aspects. Expect your reader to do the same. Not too much. Being too cryptic can be frustrating as hell. But, don't fall into the TV Batman mode where you have to explain what happened, what that means and the step by step actions you're going to take to get out of the situation. Act, don't say, if you're going to act anyway.

Dialog is one place you can add "nonessential" writing. What I mean by that is not that you have pages of dialog that don't move the story forward or do anything useful. What I mean is that dialog is a good place to sneak in some humor, for example, even if it isn't essential for moving the story forward. A little lightness and humor can make a book more entertaining and is worthy even as just distraction. Similarly, a little character development or a bit of dialog that foreshadows a character aspect that explains a later action (that might otherwise be hard to comprehend) is time well spent. Your story might survive without it, but, by making it more alive, you can make it better.

Note also that people can comfortably spend time without talking. That speaks, too. Note also that conversations that provide information but don't add interest and character development might be better dealt with by saying, "Between hiccups, she gave him a disjointed account of her adventure. With comforting noises, he wiped her nose with no sign of impatience or confusion despite her digressions into incoherency." I can go through the dialog, but, if my readers already know, I'm not contributing much.

Next, plot.

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Wasted Potential: Because Character's Not Enough

Here's one of those subtle distinctions that, judging by many books I've read, people frequently miss. Having great character(s) in the world isn't enough alone. In order to use a character to his best potential, he's going to have to interact, not just with his environment, unless you've dropped him by himself on a desert island, but with other characters.

For nearly every story, the relationships and give and take between characters are how the story is pushed forward, how the characters learn and grow, how the characters reveal who they really are, warts and all.

A story with only one character is almost stuck telling not showing because it's how people treat each other, how they speak and act toward one another, what strikes them as funny or touching or infuriating that really shows who characters are. Even who they choose to befriend and why.

Seems obvious, doesn't it? Yet this is something authors frequently miss, throwing character mismatches together and forcing a relationship at odds with their personalities. Which isn't to say you can't have different and diverse people interacting together - far from it. Relationships in real life often flourish between people who vast differencest, but rarely 100% different. And friendly relationships are hardly the only kind you can put in your novel.

But the relationships have to be believable just like your characters have to be. Two best friends who never do anything but argue and impede each other (particularly if one is destructive to the other's personality) are not compelling or healthy. Two siblings who never argue are equally suspect. Disagreements, misunderstandings, hurt feelings, anger, all can be part of a healthy relationship, but to be really healthy it needs some real understanding, some support, some trust, some kindness, some compromise, perhaps some humor and some self-sacrifice.

In order to make a healthy relationship work for the story, to bring out the most of the characters (and, by extension, the the idea) there should be both connection and tension in key relationships. This allows growth and exposition painlessly for the reader. Perhaps the main idea provides the tension between them, a racial difference or economic divide. Maybe the idea is a great terror that provides the impetus to bind them together as they have to work on each others strengths against whatever "them" is in the story.

In order to do that effectively, you can't just say they're friendly or shoehorn friendly banter that's at odds with their characters. You have to craft characters that work together, that have complimentary strengths and workable differences. An group of people working together needs to be a team in real life with everyone contributing from their strong suits. In a novel, this is also true, whether the team is a pair or a dozen key players (with different goals and personalities) that make the story go.

And, as important as it is between protagonists and friendly side characters, it has to be so between antagonists and protagonists, too. People can hate each other for weak reasons and bad reasons and misunderstandings, but, in the novel, it's best that the reason plausible and make some sort of sense. A weak or poorly motivated villain is actually very dull and can bring a story to a screeching halt. The more justification the villain has, the more one can see his side of things, the more human he becomes, the more interesting, the more nuanced. Even if his original justification has been warped into something completely horrifying, that original motivation and injustice can really bring a story home to a reader. Can make it all the more real.

And, let's face it, making our dreams and imaginings real in someone else's mind, a reader's mind, is what it's all about. Or, at least it is for me.

So, bottom line, characters need to not only be layered and nuanced and realistically believable, they need to be crafted so that they interact effectively. It's both easier and harder than it sounds. But, if you can do it, really do it, you can really do wonders for an idea.

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Wasted Potential: Casting Your Production

Huh, I wish. Actually, no, creating characters is much easier than casting a play or movie (in that you're not limited by who's available or cost or such mundane things as race or gender or species for that matter), but, like world-building, much harder because you have to know/create your characters to a much deeper extent than is ever shown on paper, kind of everything that holds up the visible part of the iceberg (character) in your story.

On the other hand, it's fun.

Nothing kills a great idea faster than flat colorless characters. As a writer, you want characters that will get the most out of your idea. Using a great character that's conflicts with the idea is doubly wasteful, waste of a character and an idea, so characters should mesh readily with the idea. But they also need to be alive and have some sort of appeal (note, that doesn't mean they can't be assholes—more on that later). I don't have hard and fast rules on what kind of characters fit what kind of ideas. I think there's a certain level of trial and error, and any idea can be handled in multiple ways. A fun and whimsical idea can be done justice with a fun and whimsical hero/heroine, but a staid down-to-earth character, surrounded by insanity, can be just as effective in showcasing whimsy. In a similar manner, weighty powerful ideas can be furthered with properly built flighty airheads just like they can with somber individuals.

I've talked about characters before, so I'll be relatively brief. These are my own guidelines I think about when I'm building someone or would if I bothered to think in such an organized manner.

Can't be too perfect. A likeable character has to have room to grow because stagnation is not appealing. Nor is it likely to make the most of a concept. Ideally, he or she never actually becomes "perfect" because perfect is also boring and off-putting. People like to identify with characters, find some hook in the character that they can empathize with. Truly "perfect" people rarely appeal to anyone but self-important jerks. Unless that's your target audience, you need to give your character weaknesses, failings, and flaws.

And they have to be significant. The bigger, badder and more impressive your character is, the more debilitating their flaws need to be unless you want the reader to start rooting for the bad guy (which has it's own appeal - think Megamind). Let's face it, if Superman were a real character, he'd be an insufferable boor. His attachment to certain people, his excessive notion of personal responsibility and, of course, Kryptonite are the only reasons he can be tolerated. Everyone has something they fear. Everyone has something they can't bear to lose (and, if they don't, that's a tragic failing in and of itself).

Personally, the bigger and badder someone is physically, the more debilitating I like their mental issues to be whereas someone who's not quite so dangerous may be stalwart to the nth degree mentally., but that's just what I like.

Can't be a complete and utter turnoff. I'm not saying your hero can't be an asshole. There have been any number of successful asshole protagonists, but I maintain they need to have some appealing quality. If you're going to have an asshole as your lead, at least make him smart (witty's even better). Stupid assholes are notably short on charm. Or give him a soft spot, a line even he won't cross, hell, an embarrassing fetish. If you're going to have an idiot protagonist (and it can be done successfully), at least make him sweet. Making an idiot him stupidly lucky, patient and tolerant often goes a long way to making him palatable. Brash abrasive characters can have a tough history, a vicious sense of humor, or an untouchable core of honor. Maybe all three.

You're going to spend a lot of time with this character. You'd better like something about him or her. Your reader is, too, so you need to share those endearing bits. If the character is too off-putting, few will stick it out to find out how your idea pans out.

Make somebody funny. Even the weightiest topics can often do better with a bit of humor, without losing the sense of importance. Humor keeps things from becoming unreasonably weighty. It helps keep necessary plot building sequences entertaining. It provides contrast and charm, even if your main characters are short on both. It doesn't have to be laugh out loud or even constantly funny, but I've never known a book to suffer because of a judicious laugh or two in the mix.

One way, by the way, to make an otherwise unappealing character appealing is to make them funny, even if it's only once in a while. Or to provide them a cohort with some measure of absurdity.

Make them act real, in believable ways. Few things muddy a character like forcing them down a path at odds with their character. (Qui-Gon Jinn, from Episode I of Star Wars comes to mind and Liam Neeson knew it. You can see the distaste on his face when he had to do something out of character and/or stupid). That doesn't mean they can't ever do something "out of character" - real people do, but there needs to be a reason (even if you don't share it with the reader, you need to know it), one that works for the character as opposed to a reason like "furthering the plot."

The characters can be stupid, make mistakes, show poor judgement. In fact, if that's their character, you must have them behave so, just like you'll have to show evidence of cleverness if that's what they're supposed to be (saying they're clever isn't enough). I'm not saying what they do has to be good or bad. Most actions, however, have to be in keeping with who they are. Doing otherwise too much will blur your character out of focus.

Ah, I love this topic.

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Wasted Potential - Got the Idea, Now What?

So, honed and screened with a cold practical eye and some objective conjecture, you come up with a fantastic idea, an idea so full of potential and cleverness and creativity that the story will all but write itself. (Heh heh, if only!) Even if the rest of it is slapped together, the glory of this idea alone could get this book sold.

Well, I won't lie to you. That's happened. I don't know any reader who hasn't curled up with a book that had a fantastic idea only to leave disgusted, sometimes even a little sickened with the caliber of the results. Mostly, the results aren't that extreme, but leaving a reader feeling "meh" with an idea that sparkles is not what this series is about. It's about making a story live up to the potential of the idea. People have sold half-ass books that had unreached potential, but the only way you are likely to be remembered twenty years, heck, five years, down the line penning such things are as an author to avoid by disappointed readers.

Even a half-assed idea, if written well, beats that. But. You get a better book with a better idea if you make sure the rest of it is on par with the premise. Of course, like writing a book, doing so is easier said than done. Where do you start?

I like to start with venue (note that this is my preference; it's not the only choice). So ask yourself, where and when should this story be set? To determine the answer you need at least two things: what works with your idea and what works for you? The first part is self-explanatory; the second might not be.

Sometimes, of course, venue IS the idea: Imagine you're a yakuza kumi in Tokyo who's escaped the bloodbath that destroyed his entire gang with his leader's nine-year-old daughter and they have to escape the city, if not the country, without getting killed, for example. Chances are you're talking about the present or near future/recent past and, of course, Tokyo. Often times, however, things aren't so clear. In a drastically male-dominated society, a girl is raised like a man but is eventually exposed as a woman. Rather than cower in her gender-based role, she uses the power she garnered pretending to be a man and her very impressive skills to carve out a spot for her in a unforgiving environment. Where and when can you set this? On earth, you can choose from any period of time ever and find oppressively male dominated societies (including the year we're in now) and in nearly every culture. For science fiction or fantasy, the options are equally broad-based.

So, how do you choose? Well, I suggest starting with the second question: what works for you? What do you read? What do you know? What are your interests?

If you're really not interested in history and or willing to treat it with some objectivity, I'm begging you to forgo setting it in a historical locale. No, seriously. For those of us who love history (and I do), having the past mangled past recognition by the well-meaning is torturous. Setting it in the past is fine, however, if you know the culture and the limitations. For instance, in most cultures, making our little lady a stand-out in hand-to-hand combat is a real challenge, not so much because women can't kick butt (with some limitations) but because, through most periods of time up to and including today, soldiers live in close quarters. You just can't get away without that kind of secret in most fighting venues. Make her a thief or an assassin, someone in the underworld, however, and you can do so. (Just, for mercy's sake, don't have her taking baths and smelling sweet in the 1600s. Really.) But it will sound contrived as hell if you don't (a) really know your period and (b) not just the literature of the times almost exclusively geared to the upper classes. You have to know about the underworld if you're using it or you shouldn't be using it. And you need to know the language, the dialects, the habits and trends of the time, clothing and contemporary events.

Ditto for using a modern venue but an exotic culture. Don't use mass media or (seriously) any biased base to determine the appropriate culture to set your work and, if you use one, you need to know it intimately (and I don't mean a trip wandering through). Living there for some time is optimum. Studying them in depth might work, but use a variety of sources and be careful you don't wander in with your preconceived notions at the fore. Ideally, you set such a story in a culture you know well, understand, can even see from both sides. Ask flit, oppressive places are closer than you know.

If you want to go the science fiction/fantasy route, as I do, that doesn't mean you don't have to do any work. World building takes far more effort than setting things in a convenient locale. You get to make the rules, but you have to keep them, too, and the rules have to makes sense (usually in comparison to actual history). Sounds easy, it's not. But, the freedom and options available to tailor a world to fit an idea is certainly part of the charm. It's one of the reasons I so often write there. Note that, by doing so, you limit your audience. There is still a rather sizeable faction that thinks science fiction and fantasy is hack work and nothing like literature. Just sayin'. For many who love reading this kind of thing, this is the only place to work.

If, after looking at your own abilities and interests, you still find the choices overwhelming on where to put your clever idea, look at the idea itself. Sure, it might work anywhere, but what aspects did you want to highlight? "Male-dominated society" can go several different extremes from repressive sexually to women being property to being "apparently" equal but still having the deck stacked against them. You need to know what kind would best serve your purposes before you pick one. Find one where a woman coming to the fore is a challenge but not laughably impossible.

In the end, you need to find the setting that works best for your work, rural vs. urban vs. nomadic, perhaps. Modern or futuristic or fantastical. Find what will let you milk the most from your idea, what will give you the most opportunity to let that idea shine. When you've got something, do your research (or world building) to make sure you can portray it correctly.

Then it's time to do my favorite part: make characters.

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Sidebar: Send a message, not a sermon

Agents and publishers frequently express concern about stories sent them with a distinct message, noting such stories are frequently heavy-handed with the story subverted by the need to make the message plain. Stories completely focused on such messages are often preachy, condescending and, much worse, boring and pompous. The stories, twisted to suit the message, come off contrived and clumsy.

This not only makes a crappy story, it does a rotten job of sending a message. Anyone with kids can tell you beating a kid over the head with a message is no way to get them to learn. Example is, and will always be, the best way of communicating behavior and life lessons, as many a parent has learned the hard way. Do as I say and not as I do–you're dreaming if you think that's any way to raise a child. But, if a child understands why something is, if they see the effects of what you do, that can make an impression they don't even consciously recognize. Which is why so many adults discover they're channeling their parents when they deal with their own children–to their chagrin.

But, as I said last time, I don't think a story sans message is even feasible. I don't think you can have challenging situations and characters that grow and react to those situations without sending messages: what are good things to do, what are bad things to do, how those reactions reflect on you, what society does as opposed to what it should do. Sometimes the stories speak of a situation that needs changing by shining light on the parts people in the "clean world" don't like to believe actually exist. These are the ones that most easily can slip into sermon. However, that same subject can be just as clearly portrayed as a backdrop on a story, having repercussions naturally through the story without subverting it or being the focus. The message comes through as thoroughly, if not more thoroughly, because it feels true, it feels real instead of contrived. It doesn't subvert the story which can be as positive or negative as one's heart desires.

However, even stories with no axe to grind whatsoever still have something to say, a natural fallout of characters that grow. The messages might not be uplifting: "sometimes bad things happen no matter what you do," "some people can't be trusted," "people are stupid," etc. Sometimes, they're light: "live a little" or "sometimes love is enough." But even fluff can have something important to say, can say it unmistakably without getting weighed down or even precluding entertainment. The less the reader notices the message, the more effective it likely it might be, because that often means the reader has identified with the message so absolutely they already agree or they've just absorbed it as natural.

As soon as your message starts to make the story unnatural, you're doing the neither the message nor the story any good. In the interest of stopping with the dead horse beating, let me give you some examples from my own works.

Curse of the Jenri: Badass Amazon-like women (Jenri) excel in magic and armed combat and marry men outside their tribe because they can't have male children. Tander, happy-go-lucky mercenary, and Layla, serious top level Jenri, are married. Tander has to embrace his "shameful" magical talents and ally himself with others in order to rescue his wife and others from top level magic-wielders (tolerance, using one's potential fully, learning responsibility). Layla's prideful self-sufficiency nearly gets herself and others killed because she keeps her problems hidden. Flashbacks to Jenri show how an oppressive and abusive environments can warp one's character, drive one to do what one would never do otherwise, but also how kindness can promote healing. With my badass Jenri, feminism is a rather natural fallout. Most of this is not specifically driven but falls naturally out of the story. I don't know how, in fact, I could tell the story without saying all these things that I believe. I don't have to state them directly (though I sometimes do via one character or another). The story tells it for me.

Beast Within - Xander (dragon), and his secret group of shapeshifters, is stranded with a large group of refugee children on a remote planet with no hope of escape. The planet might kill them if they don't use all their shapeshifter talents. The humans might kill them if they find out they're shapeshifters (as many humans consider shapeshifters and those with psionic talents "demons"). Fear of that makes the shapeshifters willing to kill to protect their secret. Xander is the leader (though not the oldest) because he is the strongest in his animal form, but he fears his perceived "weakness" and his other form because of his father's abuse. He must embrace his strengths and overcome his own fears of his other self in order to have his group (and the humans) survive. He must also stand firm on doing the right thing rather than succumb to fear or lose his humanity and precious abilities. This is a story all about what one is vs. who one is. Xander (who begins the story with a great deal to be proud of if only he knew it) must learn to appreciate his own abilities and those realizations and what the behavior of both shapeshifters and humans do (and their prejudices) are what propels the story forward.

Tarot Queen - smart precognitive has spent centuries locked up in a little house, not really living. Enter the demon, Dante, whom she wishes to free from his demon possession so she can become his lover. She must leave her safe but boring life behind and discovers reality's a lot more challenging than she thought, but also that she can do a great deal more than she ever imagined if she doesn't stand in her own way. Dante, long cynical and uncaring, having lived a (really long) life where everything came too easily, realizes that loving something precious is its own reward, and more than a little frightening because most things are more fragile than he is. What he/she is vs. who he/she is is also a big player in this story.

Catspaw - Hotheaded shapeshifter (Laren) with a chip on his shoulder finds himself thrust into leadership when Xander (the star of Beast Within) falls deathly ill. Only by keeping a rein on his temper will he be able to think his way through the dogpile of catastrophes that fall naturally from Xander's illness. In doing so, Laren finds he understands more about his fosterbrother (Xander) than he ever did before and discovers the world isn't nearly so black and white as he'd often thought, especially as he finds himself drawn to a human. Hard to hate them when you love one. Who vs. what (from the other side) again.

Saving Tessa - Rich, intelligent and self-sufficient, Dylan's life revolves around his best friend/girlfriend, Tessa. Without her, his life would be an endless succession of work that neither inspires nor challenges him. Tessa does both. When she is stolen to coerce him, he must come to grips with his own limitations and trust Tessa's own abilities to take care of herself. In many ways, this is a character study for Dylan, because no one can do everything themselves. Everyone has something to lose. This isn't a big overarching theme story, but more a study in a relationship where we learn more about what makes a healthy relationship than just "love." Or that could just me be.

One thing you want to avoid, besides the heavy hand of preachiness, is building a story where the message you're sending isn't the one you thought it was. I think Frankenstein is a good example of this. In my opinion, Mary Shelly seemed to be saying that the "monster" was inherently evil because he was an unnatural creature that man should not have created. But, when I read the story, the monster doesn't seem evil at all, but a creature, abandoned and reviled for no other reason that what he is, who is driven to desperation to obtain even a chance of happiness, only to have that happiness thwarted time and again, whether he uses exemplary methods or violence.

Let's not forget the far-too-common message many modern romances send that rape's acceptable if the guy really loves you ('cause nothing says "I love you," like violent rape). I'll stop there or I'll be beating dead horses again. Oy!

The point I'm trying to make is that a writer should understand what messages fall out of the story. He shouldn't bludgeon the story to produce the message he wants, but he might want to rethink the story if the messages he's making aren't ones he wants to send.

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Wasted Potential - Making the Most of a Workable Idea

Even the best and/or most original idea isn't enough to make a story great. There are many ingredients to cooking up a great story, but before we start sautéing characters, seasoning up the story with settings and details and scheduling plot elements, you need to know if you've completed the work on the idea itself.

Say what?

Like the caliber and cut of meat makes a difference in how it's prepared and what you can do with it, an idea needs to be fully understood and conceptualized to get the most of it. Before you take an idea and start scribbling, you might want to ask yourself what you want to say with this idea, where you want it to go and what the appropriate scope is for the story that comes out of it. Maybe not in that order. Or maybe.

What do you want to say? I've mentioned before that I think a story, of any length, should have something to say. Not necessarily a moral, but, in my opinion, messages are brought forward as part and parcel of a story where characters grow and events take place. I've talked about this before and I maintain that a story with nothing to say is probably not worth the time to read it. I'm not pro-sermon; I just don't even know how you tell a story without imparting some sort of message. I think it happens whether you intend it to or not, with how your characters grow and what happens to them In my opinion, you should be aware of this, cognizant, so you're imparting the messages you want.

What kind of messages? Anything can be a message and a message don't have to be "good." Your message might be "Life isn't fair," or "No one can be trusted," or "Everyone has a price." Many books that touch on murder or war have those kind of lessons as part of messages that come with it. It might be "Love stinks." It might be that being happy is worthwhile for itself ("Entertainment for its own sake"). An idea can lend itself to social commentary like gender/racial/religious/philosophical differences and/or tolerance. Done with care, you might be able to illuminate both sides of the issue (since many issues are not black and white). It might be half a dozen related things. But you should know what concepts you want to pursue and promote that fall out of that original idea. I like to, anyway.

Where does the idea lead? Many a great idea has been murdered ignominiously by a poor understanding of realistic implications. Events and repercussions what followed from the original premise were either so unnatural or nonsensical that the useful cleverness of the original idea was lost in the stupidity. If what you want to say and the idea and its realistic consequences are at odds, you the writer either need to change what you want to say, change your idea or you're going to have a mess. That doesn't mean that there is only one path for the idea to progress, or that one set of realistic consequences exist per idea, but what falls out of the original idea has to makes sense, has to follow along lines that seem reasonable, even if the original idea is fantastic.

Understanding the implications of your idea from the get go can also do a great deal to help determine what kind of characters you need, where they'll be going and who they'll be facing. It's a little extra effort up front but far better than trying to force a story in the wrong direction later on or finding oneself on a path that leads...nowhere.

What is the scope of the idea? Some ideas are big and sweeping, so big with so many opportunities that a single book can't even do it justice. Even an in-depth character study and growth of a primary character can drive a series of books. Sometimes, though, the idea is more an single event or image, a circumstance that make one go, "What if XXX happened?" The magnitude and impact of such ideas might expand to fill a book (okay, or more than one book) or might be fully explored in the course of a short story or play.

So, how do you know? Well, I don't think there's one rule. Everyone doesn't work the same way. However, there are some things I ask myself. First of all, it makes a difference if this is a story that involves a large group of people rather than being tightly focuses on one or two. What I mean is that, if the story is completely centered on two people with other characters being minor to the central story, I'm not planning a series of books. If I'm focused on just a couple (since romance is frequently an element), chances are I'm thinking of a stand alone book or a short story. Ensemble casts, however, especially with multiple key characters, lend themselves to sagas. Similarly, if what I'm trying to say is complex and sweeping and has many contradictory facets, chances are it's more than I can manage in a short story and may drive more than one book.

Despite my not being a planner, I usually take a bit up front to understand an idea when I get it, where it's going, what it tells me (that I might impart to the reader) and how big an idea it really is. Sometimes, I get surprised, but mostly it lets me start out on the right foot toward telling the story I think the idea merits.

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Wasted Potential - Sifting Out Good Ideas

When one talks about the potential of a project, people, writers and readers, often assume it's all about the original idea, the premise behind the story. That's only part of the story and it's a big part, but, the premise that gets the story started is only part of it because it's not just the idea, but what you want to do with it that's important. That's key to everything else in your story.

I've never spent much time talking about generating ideas because (a) writer how-to books frequently devote tons and tons of time and effort into how to get ideas and (b) generating ideas is not and never has been my problem. If I wrote to fruition every workable idea I've come up with to date, I'd be busy, 24/7, for three or four lifetimes at least. And I expect to come up with more ideas. However, the devotion to coming up with ideas makes it pretty clear that it's not that easy for everyone. Moreover, getting an idea doesn't equate with success; you have to know how to tell a good idea from one that stinks and you need to understand how an idea must be filled in and completed to make the story work.

I joke, since I'm a character driven author, that I often start with a premise and throw my characters into it, while I sit back and take notes. I do that but it's also an oversimplification partially because that's funnier and partially because my subconscious does most of the real work. It only works if you know what you're trying to say with your idea, and if you've worked the idea to effectively say what you want it to say. Your characters have to align with this, too, but I'll touch on them a different post.

The idea has to be plausible. Not real-world plausible, but fiction world plausible. So, since it's fiction, anything's plausible, right? No. There's physical world plausible (and that can be twisted and skewed in fantasy and paranormal work fairly easily) and, more importantly, societal plausibility. You can start from almost any point in the world, any realm, but the idea and premise have to make sense within that framework. The weirder the starting point, the more assiduous you must be in making the rest of it make sense within that realm (unless you're writing strictly broad comedy). I've touched on this notion before here, here and here. Well, it still holds.

Every world, every place in the time/space continuum has rules, whether or not they resemble the ones here or not. The fewer here-and-now real world rules you use, the more you have to make up and follow. If you write historical fiction, you are even more constrained (or one of those hacks that make me hate to read much of today's historical fiction). So the idea has to be plausible within the paradigm you're writing. Note that "real world" doesn't have to be limited to "American." Just sayin'.

An easy way to test a notion (even a wild fantasy notion, since we're talking societal plausibility at least) is to look at history. Has what you're envisioning or an analog ever occurred? Did it ever go the way you'd envisioned? If yes, you can safely say your idea is plausible (though you need to be aware of the circumstances that made it so - more on this later). If not, you've got to sit down with yourself and make sure you understand the reasoning on why it's plausible in your case. If you think it would be "cool," "should" have happened that way but didn't or is just necessary to further your plot, history and logic bedamned, you might want to rewind or reboot. You've failed the plausibility test.

But, even if history shows examples of the same sort of idea leading in the direction you're going, beware. If you have a fairly agnostic society, for instance, don't set up a Spanish Inquisition type scenario unless you have an equally mind-numbing conscience-soothing philosophy with a similar amount of power to religion. Patriotism can work (think Nazis), but you need to understand what's been done to use it. Fortunately, history has many examples. It's your responsibility to ensure that your idea, your notion, your paradigm makes sense in its own context. Don't cheat on this. Don't skimp. Don't shrug this off. Start a story have a crappy idiotic premise (and, yes, it can be done), you'll have to work extra hard to get anything worthwhile out of it. On the other hand, frequently, the germ of a notion, with a little research and thought, can be made into a very workable believable premise. Ideally, you want to start with something like that, something that makes sense without you, the writer, having to expend tons of extra time justifying it.

Bottom line, if you have to spend more time explaining why your premise works than describing the premise, start over.

"Never before seen." Many people get excited over a unique idea because "no one's ever done it before." Well, rein in a second there. First, don't count on it never having been done before. Chances are, someone somewhere has done something like whatever you're thinking about. I mean, there have been a lot of people born and dreaming in this world. But, whether it's truly original or just so rare it feels unique, that doesn't make it a good idea.

One reason you might not have heard about it (if someone else has also thought of it) is that it was just a bad idea. Yes, that happens. If you've no indication that anyone has ever done anything like that, make sure you think long and hard about whether or not that means the idea is a real stinker.

But it might also be a great idea that's challenging to pull off, either because it's complex or confusing or requires extensive know-how or any of a dozen other reasons. If a great idea gets butchered by well-meaning hacks enough times, it can be hard for anyone to take it seriously. If you have an idea you think is fantastic and unique, sit down and think it through, make sure you have the knowledge and tools you need to do it justice. More on that in later posts.

Old standby ideas. So, let's say the idea you want to pursue isn't that unique or original. Let's say, in fact, it's been done to death. Should you stop? Not necessarily. Pretty much 99% of the most successful works done this past century are based on tried and true ideas, things that have been done before. But (and it's a big but), the authors/directors/producers put their own unique spin on those old ideas and made them fresh and approachable.

Classic concepts and ideas are that way because they have broad if not universal appeal, because they build on universal truths and human nature. But, if you don't have a unique take on it, a unique twist, a clever variation, you'll just be telling a story that someone's already told. Seriously. And that's not good.

The more classic and timeless your notion, the more effort it is to make it special, unique and interesting. Making it entertaining is always good, but, if you want to make it something special, you're going to have to add something new or give it a serious makeover. You'd best do your research to make sure your clever and unique twist isn't a rehash of someone else's.

Make sure the idea appeals. Having a cool unique idea or a clever take on a classic idea, however plausible, isn't enough, though. It needs to have appeal, speak to someone (at least you). As a writer, you're going to be spending a great deal of time with the idea and characters supporting this idea - it better be something you like or you're not going to enjoy yourself. But, even if it's entirely your kind of thing, if you're hoping to get someone to read it, you need to think about what will appeal to others as well. Who is your target audience? What about your idea do you think will appeal to them? What will the reader identify with or find compelling? If you don't know, you ought to. At least know what makes it appeal to you.

But the getting the germ of the idea, the premise, isn't enough. You've got to make that idea into something and figure out what you're trying to say with it. More on that next post.

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Wasted Potential - Introduction

I reread the manga that got me started railing on endings. I'll be writing a review of it over on Unlikely Otaku later (partially to get it off my chest and partially because if I gush about my current favorite manga, I'll have to reread that whole thing and I've read it twice this week already).

But the issue I have with that (bad ending) manga is one common to all kinds of story telling media, from movies to stories to novels to, well, pick one. That problem: wasted potential.

There is nothing I hate more than reading/watching something that should have been good, that had the elements for being good, even great, and turned out disappointing. Even if the end product is "good," if it's only a shadow of what it could have been, I end up feeling let down. Frustrated. Even angry. An example that leaps to mind include the movie 9.

Contrast that to my general pleasure at watching or reading something where I didn't expect much because the idea seemed stupid or uninteresting, and yet I ended up really finding it compelling nonetheless. Something as absurd in conception as say, Edward Scissorhands, by way of superlative acting and careful and clever handling, becomes an unexpected charmer.

If you're going to err, the latter is the way to go. In other words, handling even the silliest notion with care and skill can still be a winner whereas inept or careless treatment of even the best ideas will lead to utter failure. Particularly notable failure, because wasted potential is a broken promise to the customer: I had something that should have been great and didn't deliver. People remember those that have let them down. I sure as hell do.

That doesn't mean everything one writes has to be classic or great literature, but it needs to deliver on its potential. If it's escapist adventure, make sure its exciting and entertaining. Keep the writing crisp, the pace brisk, the humor bright and the pathos to a minimum. Make the characters deep enough so the reader cares about their fates, but not so deep and convoluted to drag the story down. If it's a romance, the characters need to be deeper, their relationship compelling even if the premise or story isn't as as strong.

However, making those secondary elements stronger makes the whole package better and can change a little bit of escapist literature into a favorite book. Make the story stronger, the plot plausible, the humor entertaining, and a romance novel stands out against in a sea of "meh."

Writing a novel is much like making a complex meal. You want the best ingredients, of course, but how you cook them, in what proportions, when you offer them, even how you present them, all matter to making a satisfying eating experience. You can't dump even the best ingredients for a five course meal into a blender, purée then pour into a pan and bake it and expect it to be satisfying, even if you shave black truffle over it.

I suspect many would-be writers get caught by this, falling in love with an idea, thinking it's so cool but not realizing that that's just the tip of the iceberg when it comes to crafting a satisfying story. They're dazzled by the potential of the idea and can't see that what they've delivered is still raw on the inside or poorly proportioned, because they see the product they wanted it to be.

So, I'll be talking about getting the potential out of my ideas, my stories, my characters, what I do to try make sure I don't break any promises for my readers.

And, yeah, it's another multi-parter.

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Change-a-Roo

Before I sally forth to address other plot and story related topics with regards to novel writing, I'd like to make an announcement. My largely neglected (mostly by myself) blog, Ask Me Anything, is getting reworked to address my current fascination with manga/anime which, after more than four nonstop months, is still going strong. As in I'm going to try to learn how to read Japanese which puts me, I think, a step beyond a dabbler. The new title is "The Unlikely Otaku" where otaku is a term to describe an obsessive fan of some form of media or another.

How does it affect this site? Well, in some ways it doesn't except that I won't be writing any more manga obsessed entries over here. Here, I'll be sticking to writing related topics. I will, at least for the time being, keep the manga widget, but it might eventually be replaced with books I recommend reading and why. Eventually.

I will also be, slowly over time, removing my manga entries from here and reposting them on The Unlikely Otaku without the comments (so if you said something insightful and still want it, you'll have to go comment again). The widget here will be duplicated over there and both will be updated as I transfer things over.

It's not particularly important, except to me, as I'm excited about making a venue for myself to continue to explore why I find this manga/anime worldl so fascinating. Some of it might bleed over here, but only if it has a direct bearing on my novels (and, yes, manga has had an impact on no less than four of my five completed novels).

The other impact is that, if someone has a question they just have to get addressed (that isn't writing or manga related), they'd best put it on Rocket Scientist, since this blog will now be fully focused on reading/writing and Unlikely Otaku is focused on manga/anime. Rocket Scientist I'm leaving to catch everything else, which isn't much at this moment.

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Endgame Part 4 - Everything Else

So, if we take out happy-ever-after endings, revelation and climax endings, what's left?

Everything else. And, yeah, that doesn't all fit tidily into categories.

But, never fear because I'm going to give you my insight into rules of thumb for any type of ending (which may or may not apply to the special endings I've already described—use your own judgement). These are things I keep in mind when writing the ending, including where to end the story.

First and foremost, remember the point of your story. Point of the story? What if it's just a frothy romp for entertainment? Nothing wrong with that. But, if your story is just to entertain the reader with a charming story or fun characters, don't kill them all in an earthquake or strike one down with AIDS. By doing so, the point of your story (having fun with fun people) has been subverted with an ending that sucks the joy out of it. That doesn't mean you can't have fun frothy adventures that end in despair, but the seriousness of the consequences, the reality that lurks behind the adventure needs to poke through in the story before the ending. Or the reader will feel cheated.

But most stories have something to say. It might be minor or even cliche, but the characters should all be striving and growing, be motivated by something or learning something. The ending needs to be working with that, part of that, in keeping with that intent. If the story involves the striving of people to be together against the odds, having them go their separate ways for spurious reasons at the end will be irksome. Give them good reasons, remembering their time together fondly, that's fine. But you don't want the reader getting to the last page and "Why did they try so hard for so long just to throw it all away?"

Some books have a very significant import, highlighting important issues like child abuse or war. Given the import of those topics, even if the story ends happily, it shouldn't be too easy, too tidy, too pat. There need to be scars and struggles with the ending emphasizing how challenging correction can be or the topics themselves become easy to dismiss.

The key is to not to lose sight of what you're trying to say. Bad things and good things can both happen at the end, hope from despair, reality striking fantasy, as long as you haven't subverted why you told the story for in the first place. That doesn't mean the guy gets the girl—perhaps giving up the girl is the greater expression of love, the greatest available. That doesn't mean tragedy is prevented, but you need to be careful about making every effort in the book seem futile. Hopelessness rarely makes a reader feel good about the reading experience. The key is that the ending should be part of the message, instead of negating it.

Don't be a tease. This goes somewhat hand in hand the first one. A novel is something like a promise that you build on over time. You're telling the reader what kind of book it is, what to expect from and for the characters. If you promise hot and heavy romance, having your main characters meet for coffee and then go their merry way is not likely to leave the reader feeling satisfied. If the book is all about someone training and striving to succeed at something, having them come in seventh with no fanfare or no particular reason can be frustrating. Why, again, did I bother suffering with this character? The ending needs to deliver on at least some of that promise, even if it doesn't happen to be exactly the way expected.

It can be tempting to pull a sneaky and do something shocking at the end. That's fine, but you can't break your promise. You don't have to give the reader the obvious solution, but you have to deliver something as good or better. Not necessarily happier, but as satisfying and meaningful as what the reader was hoping for. Pulling a quick change at the end just so it's NOT predictable is like trotting out a new suspect in a mystery at the last minute and making them the culprit. It's a cop-out and a cheat. The last thing a writer should want to do is have the readers feeling cheated. So, take a look at your novel, at the hints and breadcrumbs you left along the way, the promises and teases you offered on what the reader can expect and make sure you fulfilled those promises, even if it wasn't the way the reader might have expected.

Give the reader time to grieve. Tragedy can be a very effective part of an ending. Reality can be harsh and misfortune, even "senseless" misfortune, is part of it. But, if you, the writer, have taken the time to get your reader to know and love a character who is struck by tragedy, you need to give the reader time to grieve, either before the tragedy (seeing it coming like say, Love Story or Tale of Two Cities) or after the fact by allowing the reader (and the other characters) to come to terms with what's happened. Killing off the couple's toddler three pages before the end or losing one's mentor in the last paragraph can leave the reader without the ability to come to terms with their own loss if they've become entrenched with the character. It doesn't mean you can't kill off favorite characters or visit tragedy, just that you have to help the reader come to terms with the loss just as the characters must.

Don't wind down indefinitely. Just as it applied to the happily ever after endings, for heaven's sake, bring the story to a close within a reasonable timeframe. Everything that happens after the climax should serve a purpose to the story: cleaning up loose ends, bringing everyone into a stable condition, letting everyone come to terms with tragedy (and you need time for this, but don't let it drag on indefinitely)—you know, tidying up. Character exposition and development, adventures, should be minimized after the main core story has reached it's climax. Make it entertaining, sure, but don't take on chapters or episodes during this crucial period for no purpose other than entertaining. If it's not part of the winding down and putting the story to bed, move it to before the climax or let it go.

Foreshadowing with care. I have said and I maintain that a novel should be self-contained and complete, not leaving key story-arc issues unresolved or key characters in imminent destruction. However, some books, particularly those intended to be part of a series, frequently have an on-going conflict above and beyond the current story arc. In those cases, having a few loose ends to be tugged and tied in a later volume is fine as long as this story arc is complete, as long as someone can get a satisfying and complete story from this novel. In such cases, particularly if you know there are more books to come (or even if you want to leave the option open), a certain measure of foreshadowing is a fine way to end things...as long as you don't actually start a new story arc. Whether you note the existence of a particular threat or remind the reader of how much work is still to be done, despite the successes of *this* battle, a little hint that there's more to come is fine.

About horror. The guidelines I've been discussing on endings largely don't apply to horror (with the possible exceptions of denouement/climax endings) because the intent of a horror novel is generally less about satisfaction and more about being unnerving. That doesn't mean you can't have a satisfying ending, just that it's not necessarily the best choice. To get the effect you're looking for in your horror novel (depending on what your intent is) might mean killing off beloved characters at the last minute or leaving promises dangling, even nudging your characters to the cliff edge. In those cases, one can deliberately add to the disturbing effect of the story itself by leaving the ending, well, not so ending-ish.

I have an announcement on a revamping of my Ask Me Anything blog and then I'll move off into other plot related topics here. Stay tuned as it were.

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