“Past, Present, and Future”; photo © 2009 MissLeslie17 CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

What to do with tense? I wrote about this briefly a few months ago, in the context of narrative mode, and I mentioned a few narrative modes and how they were used by their authors. But how do you pick a tense to use?

To review, narrative mode has three components:

1. Person – First (“I”), second (“you”), or third (“he”).
2. Tense – Past, present, or future.
3. Voice – Objective, Limited, or Omniscient

For now, I’m going to look in more detail at the second one, Tense, because of a question Paula B (of The Writing Show) recently asked on FaceBook. (I’ll look in more detail at Person and Voice in future posts.) She asked, “What do you think are the advantages and disadvantages of present and past tense for novels and memoirs?”

Before we answer that question, let’s look at what we mean by “tense.”

Our word tense comes to us through Old French from the Latin tempus, which means “time.” And indeed tense tells us in what time the action is happening: past, present, or future. But what does it mean to write a story in “past tense”? It means that the action is being described as having happened in the past. But even in a past-tense narrative mode, individual sentences may occur in present tense, past-perfect tense, or even in future tense. How can that be?

The answer is that tense indicates what time the action occurred relative to the time the words were spoken. So for narrative tense to have any meaning, you must know who is doing the narrating. Or more precisely, when he is narrating it. And your mind—I’m convinced—subconsciously intuits the frame of reference of the narrator and adjusts its understanding appropriately.

Past Tense, Present Tense, Future Tense

Take a memoir for instance, usually written in past tense (first person). So the narrator is the memoir author himself, the person who had the experiences, and he’s describing them as though sitting in the same room as you, looking back at them. Consider this snippet from my own romantic memoir, Love through the Eyes of an Idiot:

We made tentative plans for Wednesday night, but she refused to commit. I understood that she was hurting from past relationships, and that she had other friends, but I also felt like an outsider to her, because she seemed to have less and less time for me.

Past tense, plain and simple, because I’m describing an experience that happened to me years ago. But then how do you account for the following bits, from the same chapter?

She explained that after classes that day, her friend had asked her over, and she needed to study for an important exam the following day…

She told me that she didn’t mean to be unavailable, but that she had lost track of the time.

Looking back, I understand how she felt, and I understand what she did, and I agree with her priorities. But at the time, I felt like I was at the bottom of her list, and that sucked.

How can I use past-perfect-tense verbs like “had asked” and “had lost,” or present-tense verbs like “understand” and “agree”?

See, you read the book as though I were there with you, in the same room as you, reflecting back on these experiences as I describe them. But while I tell you the story, I can still refer to things happening in the present time, as well as explain things that had led up to the events of the story (using the past perfect).

Take another example, a story written in present tense: “Harry drags himself out of the house, down to the grocery store. He shells out his $2.59 for a lousy loaf of bread.” And so forth. Here, we understand—without anybody telling us—that the narrator is a fly on the wall who’s recording these events as though he were right there watching the action. He’s not reflecting back on the events, because then he would be using past tense. Rather, he’s describing the action as he observes it. But this narrator could also explain, in the middle of this story, “Harry just got paid yesterday, and now he wonders where the money all went.” And we naturally understand how that fits in with the story, even though it includes a verb in the past tense. Because it’s past tense relative to the narrator’s frame of reference.

We could even use future tense. “Harry doesn’t know it yet, but his luck is going to turn any minute now.” (Maybe that’s a poor sentence to put into the story, because it tells rather than shows, but my point here is that it makes sense grammatically within the context of the story.)

So…

• past tense (“He went”) = past time relative to the narrator
• present tense (“He goes”) = present time relative to the narrator
• future tense (“He will go”) = future time relative to the narrator

We also have the perfect tenses:

• past-perfect tense (“He had gone”) = past time relative to some point from the narrator’s past
• present-perfect tense (“He has gone”) = past time relative to some point in the narrator’s present (or also can serve as a replacement for the past tense)
• future-perfect tense (“He will have gone”) = past time relative to some point in the narrator’s future

Choosing Your Tense: When’s the Narrator?

There are two places from which the narrator can describe the action, which place his frame of reference.

1. in the same place as us (past-tense narrative mode)
2. in the same place as the action (present-tense narrative mode)

There are also more unusual narrative modes. For example, prophetic literature may be written in future tense, because it describes events that haven’t yet occurred. But this also sits the narrator next to us (case #1 above), and he uses future tense simply because the story he’s telling happens in the future.

Really, as an author, you’re not choosing the tense of the narrative, even though that’s how we usually think of it. Rather, even if you don’t realize it, you’re actually choosing the frame of reference of the narrator. You do this in order to optimize how the narrator tells the story. Once you know where and when the narrator resides, then the tense in which he speaks automatically comes together, depending on what he’s talking about at any given moment.

So the trick in choosing a tense is really just the trick in choosing where you want your narrator to be. Do you want him to sit in the room with the reader and tell his story as he reflects on it (past tense)? Or do you want him to dictate it into a tape recorder as the action is happening (present tense)?

Past tense (option #1) often feels more natural, because in conversation we typically tell stories that happened in the past using past tense. In past tense, you can also more naturally include anachronistic details that fit in logically with the narrative. For example, you could stop and explain “future” implications of the story without interrupting the narrative, as I did in my memoir example above, when I used the present tense in my past-tense narrative. This works, because we intuitively understand that “I agree” places my agreement now, in this modern time, and we make that connection without any further explanation.

With present tense (option #2), the reader can feel much closer to the action, because it feels like it’s happening all around him, because the narrator is describing the story into a tape recorder in real time, as the action is occurring, rather than reflecting back on the story after years of distance. With this option, you can more easily distinguish between present time (i.e., the current action), past time (i.e., what happened before), and past-relative-to-past time (i.e., what preceded what happened before, using the past-perfect). This could be especially useful, for example, if you have a first-person narrator telling his story (in present tense), and then flashing back on events that happened before (in past tense), including other events that preceded those events (in past-perfect tense). To sort out all those timeframes using option #1, you’d have to use a lot of context in order to keep the reader from getting confused. (In fact, I’m not sure I haven’t made the situation more confusing, myself. How’s that for befuddlement?)

In the final analysis, it really depends on what you’re more comfortable with. Choosing a tense, like any writing decision, is a creative choice. Any story you can tell in past-tense narrative you can also tell in present-tense. But one or the other might feel more awkward to you, depending on the requirements of your story. At least now you can hopefully qualify those requirements a little more easily.

Keep writing!
-TimK

I usually start a novel with at least a working title. Not this time. However, I am starting with a working cover design.

This is in preparation for my next novel-writing month, which is February—FebNoWriMo?—part of my New Year’s resolution to publish 4 original books during the next year.

You can see a cover template over at the right, for the novel, the next in the Ardor Point series (Ardor Point #2). This is based on the only stock image that I could find that I thought represented the feeling I wanted to communicate. (And you’ll never believe, if you search for “romance sea,” how many beach sunset photos you’ll get.) I found this particular image by looking for young couples on a pier. I may search at more, different sites in hopes of finding another candidate image. Then I can do some market-testing using different cover designs.

Most publishers (and even indie and self-publishing authors) put off the cover design until after the manuscript is finished, but by that time there’s not enough time to do any significant market testing of it. I’ve been trying to choose the title and design the cover earlier in the process, as you can see here. These should be done first (not last), because from a marketing perspective, these make the most difference in getting prospective readers’ attention.

Next, I need to come up with a few prospective titles. In order to generate prospective titles, however, I need to know at least what the story will be about. And for this, I need The Sentence (a technique I stole from Holly Lisle’s Think Sideways course).

The Sentence sums up important elements of a story idea in a compact form. For Ardor Point #2, I’ve constructed the following Sentence:

A newlywed bride, at a romantic, seaside cottage on her first wedding anniversary, as the onset of economic depression threatens to tear her marriage apart, finds joy.

I still need to reduce this even further into title form. I’ll hit my thesaurus and other word tools, and look for words related to the primary concepts in the novel: newlywed, anniversary, summer, depression, poverty, marriage, joy, etc. Then I’ll play with those words, alone and in combination, using title templates like:

• [The] [noun's] [adjective] noun
• [The] noun of/in/from/for/and [the] [adjective] noun
• verbing [the] [noun's] [adjective] noun

I haven’t actually gone through the exercise yet, but doing so should easily produce a number of possible book titles, which I will whittle down to my top 3, which I will then market-test. (At least that’s the plan.)

For the time being, I’ve begun writing up character sketches for the main character, Devon Richardson, and her new hubby, David.

Yeah, I know. I should have picked names of different lengths that began with different letters—Devon and David and David and Devon… That’s not confusing! But they were minor characters that appeared in From the Ashes of Courage, and now I’m locked into those names. Doh! Lesson learned: When choosing names, even for walk-on characters, consider what would happen if you later want to make them stars of their own novel. Would the names still work?

Oh well. Maybe I can give him a nickname, like “Dave” or “Digger” or “Numchucks.”

Even so, I’m learning a lot about them, such as that she collects and restores antiques, in order to connect with the past, as replacement for inadequacies in her relationships. Taken to the extreme, which the coming year will do, this bad habit could become a fateful addiction. And unfortunately, there’s no Betty Ford Clinic for Compulsive Antiquers.

-TimK

When you’re designing a piece of custom software, in theory, your client tells you what he wants, and then you go and tell the computer how to give it to him. In reality, your client will never tell you what he actually wants, usually because he himself doesn’t actually know. But that’s okay, because he will most assuredly change his mind anyhow, as soon as you figure out how to do what you thought he asked for in the first place.

In other words, you’re trying to write something that you really don’t understand and that keeps changing from under your feet… kind of like writing a novel.

Now, some software developers try to deal with the volatility of their profession by conducting long, protracted negotiations with clients and marketing people, the result of which negotiations is a treaty document—called “the spec”—which each party will sign in blood. This process can take months, or even years. But after “the spec” has been signed, any requests for further changes can be considered an act of war, thereby guaranteeing that the developer will design software that is completely useless to solve any real-world problem (unless the project gets canceled first).

I am not one of those software developers.

Other developers just dive in and write software without any planning whatsoever. They reason that the client doesn’t know what he wants anyhow, and so he can probably be convinced to accept whatever it is you end up writing for him. If not, you can always fix it all after the fact, even if that means rewriting large swaths of your manuscript— er, I mean, software program.

I am also not one of those software developers.

I subscribe to a philosophy called “Agile Software Development.” In Agile Software Development, you start by accepting that change happens— Deal with it! You deal with it by building your software in tiny pieces, the most valuable parts first. At each step, you have something that you can show the client. That way the client can help you correct your mistakes, piece by piece.

Now, when you’re writing a novel, your “client” is actually a part of you yourself, it’s the “editor” or “critic” part of you. When you write, you’re writing to satisfy your inner editor. When you edit, you’re correcting what your inner writer wrote. So why not do it in small steps, so that you can correct big problems early, quickly, cheaply?

That’s Agile Storytelling.

Here’s the process I use in brief:

1. Write brief character sketches for each of the main, viewpoint characters.

2. Describe each character arc and story thread, in a sentence each.

3. Expand these to scenes, a sentence or two per scene. (You can do this using plot cards, if you’re more comfortable working with them.)

4. Write each scene in 100-300 words. This is “draft zero.” By the end of this, you should be able to see your story having taken form. You should be able to see whether it works, and whether it will be about the right size to hit your word goals. You will also have enough detail planned so that you can track word targets and target dates in writing your first draft.

5. Rewrite the story, expanding each scene to its full length, producing a first draft. Where necessary, insert additional scenes, split scenes into multiples, combine scenes, rearrange scenes, and redefine scenes.

6. Revise the manuscript.

7. Final line editing.

At each step, you can review what you have so far and fix any problems. In particular, by doing a zero-draft, you can see the whole story, though abbreviated, in its entirety. This way, I find it’s easier to catch bigger problems earlier in the process. The first draft is almost like a revision of the zero-draft, even though it’s actually a rewrite, and most of the big plot problems get patched up in this phase, and events get put into their correct order. When I get to revising the manuscript, I’m patching up descriptions to make them more consistent, for example, but there are no plot holes and very few scenes that don’t fit or need to be rewritten—there were exactly two in From the Ashes of Courage.

-TimK

Photo © 2005 Dey Alexander

One of the banes of writing fiction is trying to find interesting ways to say ordinary things. And smiling is one of those. Everyone smiles. It’s built into our DNA to smile. We smile to show happiness, friendliness, or even to cover up how insecure we feel. And our characters smile, too, a lot.

So how do you avoid sounding hyper-repetitive when you describe how happy, friendly, and insecure your characters are? Here are 11+ suggestions. (The ‘+’ is because some of the following items produce multiple possibilities. You’ll see what I mean.)

1. ‘He smiled.’ If his smiling is important enough to mention, but not important enough to make a big deal over, just write, ‘He smiled.’ Especially if there are qualifiers, such as ‘He smiled politely,’ then quickly go on to the important stuff in the story.

2. ‘[description elided]’ That is, write nothing. If his smiling is just a by-product of some other action, if the reader will naturally imagine him smiling anyway, or if his smiling doesn’t matter to the story anyhow, get rid of it.

3. ‘He beamed, grinned, smirked, simpered, sneered, leered, laughed, joked, teased, and joshed.’ Hit your thesaurus and other word-finding tools. Find the strongest verb that describes the character’s action.

4. ‘His lips curved upwards.’ or ‘The corners of his lips rose.’ An old standby.

5. ‘His cheeks dimpled, and the corners of his eyes wrinkled.’ Another old standby, as is…

6. ‘His eyes twinkled.’ … and…

7. ‘His eyes lit up.’ … and…

8. ‘His teeth shone bright.’ … and…

9. ‘He showed his party teeth.’ … and all their variations.

10. ‘He [something] with joy.’ There might be a more appropriate noun than “joy,” depending on his motivation in the story.

11. ‘He appeared amused.’ Very weak, because “appeared” is just one step away from the verb “to be.” But hit your thesaurus for “amused.” Maybe this is the best way to communicate how the viewpoint character interprets his expression.

Keep writing!
-TimK

Photo © 2009 Jorge Elías CC BY 2.0

A fundamental rule of style is that you should avoid the verb “to be,” preferring instead strong, descriptive verbs that show, rather than tell.

As an example, instead of writing, “The light was bright,” you should prefer, “The light blinded her as a hot-white flame,” or some such. So every time you use am, is, are, was, were, be, been, or being, that’s a signal that you need to rephrase…

EXCEPT…

As it turns out, this common rule of thumb oversimplifies the issue, sometimes to the point that confusion can result.

No less a writer than Holly Lisle gives a misleading example, on her web page about one-pass manuscript revision:

Is your scene full of weak words? How many times have you used is, was, or were?… Eliminate forms of the verb “to be” wherever you find them, rewriting the sentence with a stronger verb. “It was raining,” becomes “The rain slashed down, tearing up the gardens and ripping leaves from the trees.”

But the verb in that sentence is not the verb “to be”!

When “To Be” Is Not “To Be”

Let’s consider Holly’s example: “It was raining.” I agree that this is a weak sentence. But the verb in the sentence is “to rain,” not “to be.” The word combination “was raining” is what linguists and grammarians call the “progressive form” of the verb. As a writer, you don’t need to know so much about grammar. But you do have to be careful not to be fooled by the word “was” sandwiched in there.

If you want proof, try rephrasing the example thusly: “It rained.” No more “was.” That’s still a weak sentence. In fact, it’s even weaker than before, because now instead of showing the rain as an ongoing activity, it merely states, for the record, that “it rained.”

The problem in this example isn’t the word “was.” The problem is that “to rain” is simply a weak, generic verb. And the tip-off that you’re using a weak, generic verb is the indefinite “it.” When we say, “It rained,” what exactly is “it”? The word “it” in that sentence refers to nothing in particular, a clue that you’re speaking in generalities rather than describing specifics.

So what is “it”? “It” is the “the rain.” And what did the rain do? “The rain fell.” Better. But can we be even more descriptive than that? Can we invoke more of the senses? “The rain slashed down, tearing up the gardens and ripping leaves from the trees.” This invokes the sense of sight and sound, and vividly describes the violence of the storm.

(By the way, that’s still a poor sentence to have in your story, unless it actually has something to do with the story. But at least it’s much stronger now, more descriptive.)

And as a final example, what if we worked on it further:

Gregory gazed out the window. The rain was slashing through the atmosphere, tearing up the gardens and ripping leaves from the trees. “We’d better stay inside,” he said, “for now, at least.”

I added the word “was” back into the sentence. But rather than weakening the sentence, it brought the scene to life, showing it as ongoing action, happening right before Gregory’s eyes.

Watching Out for “To Be”

I look for three situations in particular, in which you have to watch out for the verb “to be”:

1. With a noun as the predicate. This is called a “predicate nominative.” It equates one thing with another. “The man was a giant.” In some languages, the word “was” wouldn’t even be translated, because it’s not really a verb at all. It just equates the one thing with the other. (In linguistic terms, it’s called a “copulative.”) Try instead something like: “A giant, he towered over the poor citizens of Tinyville.”

2. With an adjective as the predicate. “The man was tall.” Even worse. Try: “She stared up at him, wide-eyed, trying not to let his height intimidate her.”

3. The passive voice. This is when “to be” is used with the past participle of the verb, so that the action in the sentence is happening to the subject, rather than the subject doing the action. “He was beaten.” In this same category I also include variations, such as “He got beaten” or “He felt beaten.” (Makes him sound like he thinks he’s an egg.) You can frequently start by rephrasing: “His opponent beat him”; then at least you know who’s doing the action. And then strengthen that further. Maybe: “He lay on the ground, blood trickling from his nose, refusing to move, praying silently that his opponent would have pity and leave him for dead.”

So, the rule of thumb, watch out for the verb “to be”: it’s a valid rule. But beware of other verbs in the sentence. Sometimes “to be” occurs with another verb, which is the main verb. And sometimes, the combination is still the strongest verb that you can use. And sometimes the real problem is that you simply chose a weak verb to tell your story, rather than showing the action behind it.

-TimK

Photo © 2006 Sheldon Wood CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

I’ve experienced the same thing, as a musician, whenever I give a big musical performance. As you prepare for the big event, you practice, you plan, you’re running on adrenaline. The big night comes. You perform beautifully. The burn of the spotlights, the adulation of the crowd, the feeling of accomplishment. You’re floating on air.

The next day, you crash, hard.

I always plan to take the next day off after a big performance. My father, too, when he was pastoring a church, Monday was his day off, because he had prepared all week for Sunday, and after it was over, he needed to decompress. And I experience the same thing after finishing a big writing project.

Once the manuscript is revised and put to bed, I start coming down off that adrenaline high. Up until that point, I’d been barreling through, planning, creating, writing, then revising, amazed at how good it feels, to read my own story, to have it excite me, the fulfillment, the psychological reward. And then, sadness.

After the revision is complete, I crash, hard. I need to put the manuscript up on the shelf for a little, because I’m too close to it. More than that, though, I start to see all the mistakes in it. I notice all the things I did wrong, or that I could have done better. Yes, it’s the best thing I’ve ever written—not just the one I’ve fallen in love with the most, but the one that encompasses all of the skill and acumen I’ve collected, more so than anything I’d ever written before. I have no reason to feel ashamed and every reason to feel proud. But even though it’s good writing, and fun to read, and even though there are plenty of less enjoyable works in the world that have been published to rave reviews, I wonder if it’s good enough. And then I wonder whether I’m good enough. I wonder whether people will hate it, or me, for whatever piddling reason. I begin to doubt that they’ll even take the effort to read it, because it’s not worth reading. I doubt my abilities as a writer. Am I any good? What kind of a stupid hack am I, anyhow? It doesn’t matter how much success I’ve gotten in the past, how many complements I’ve gotten, how many readers I have, how many fans or friends. And allowed to proceed unchecked, the feeling can debilitate.

This is the post-revision blues.

Fortunately, there are ways to deal with them in a healthy manner. (Many of these are adapted from the book How to Lift Depression …fast.)

• Relax. What you’re experiencing is a form of grief, caused by changing circumstances. It’s natural to feel down at this point in the cycle, but it’s still just a feeling. Don’t let it cloud your judgment. Calm your emotions—breathe out slowly, read a book, listen to calming music, exercise, take a nap—and you’ll be able to think more clearly. Then you’ll be able to make more effective choices as to how to proceed. (However, be careful about watching TV. Because of the nature of television, it can overstimulate your mind and wear you out, making it more difficult for you to calm yourself.)

• Work on the next phase of the project, or on the next project. If you need to mail the manuscript out to publishers or to your agent, do so. If you need to have readers reading it, send them a copy. If you need to start planning your next novel, start working on it.

• Realize that the feeling is separate from you as a person. It’s just something you’re going through, but it’s not part of who you are. When you feel sad, register the feeling, because it’s normal, but don’t allow that feeling to define you or project onto your future.

• Combat self-loathing by reminding yourself of all the people in the past who have read your work and came to you, overjoyed, and gushed at how much they enjoyed it and how good a writer they thought you were. Remind yourself of all the work you’ve put into learning how to write, all the creativity you’ve displayed, and all of the skills you’ve developed as a writer.

• Stop worrying about it. You finished it; it’s done; there’s nothing you can do about it now. No sense dwelling on what you can’t change. Move on.

• Whatever you think you’ve done wrong on this project, modify your writing process to keep it from happening again. Change negative thoughts into a positive, constructive future.

• Don’t dwell on how much “better” you think such-and-such another writer is. Yeah, maybe she sells more books than you, for now. But that doesn’t define who you are. You’re doing your best and developing your skills and talents, and that’s sufficient for now. Never let thoughts of inferiority drag you down, and if you find yourself thinking them, just say, “Stop!” (To yourself, in your head, at least if there are others around.)

• … which reminds me… Laugh! Read Dave Barry. Or Kevin Cummings. Or whoever your favorite humorist is. Or read Janet Evanovich. Or your favorite funny blog. Or tell yourself a funny joke. It’s not just an old wives tale: laughter really is the best medicine.

• Put boundaries around your feelings of worry and self-loathing. Allow yourself a half-hour to be a failure, but know that after that half-hour expires, you’re going to move on. Even with your feelings of natural sadness, you can allow yourself a day each week to grieve. But when those feelings occur to you other times during the week, put them off until the appointed time.

• Uncouple destructive patterns. Sometimes, you feel worried or sad, because something reminds you subconsciously of a situation that distressed you in your past. Maybe someone criticized your last book, maybe unfairly. Maybe you haven’t been able to sell your manuscripts. You’re assuming unconsciously that the outcome will be the same now as it was then. But it’s silly to assume that everything will stay just as it was before, because the only constant in this world is change, and what you’re experiencing now is a new situation with new possibilities. Try to list all the ways in which this situation is different than what’s happened in the past. (Really, literally, give it a shot.) You won’t be able to, and even your subconscious will have to admit that things really are different now.

• Imagine a better future. A great way to combat worry is simply to invoke anti-worry. That is, instead of worrying about how bad things could be, imagine how good they could become. Do your best then to bring about those good results. I’m not saying that you should have a pie-in-the-sky outlook; but when you’re being dragged down by unrealistic negativism and worry, you have to go out of your way to remind yourself of the positive prospects in your life. For example, if you’re worried about what bloggers will say about your book, you may end up behaving antagonistically to them. But if you imagine the bloggers who will fawn over your latest book, then it makes it possible to engage with them as friends.

The most important thing to realize that it’s very natural to feel down for a time after a big project. You’ve been driving on the same project, probably continuously for a month or more, and now suddenly, it’s over. And it’s one of the ironies of human nature that such good news can drag you down. But it will pass.

Pick up; move on. Because you have a destiny.

-TimK

© 2008 Simon Kisner CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Recently, I joked on my personal blog about how (not) to revise your novel, a trying process involving sweat, tears, and numerous trips to the office supply store. And all just so that you can see, in black and white, how crappy a writer you really are.

But seriously, revising a novel is a lot of hard work. And in your first draft, you probably did do a crappy job, because that’s what revision is for, to un-crap-ify it. You’re basically trying to fix everything you goofed on while you were writing your first draft. Melding all those multiple character personalities into one; pruning all those lost plot threads that go nowhere; unifying the story’s theme.

For From the Ashes of Courage, I used Holly Lisle’s one-pass manuscript revision process, exactly as she describes it. I’ve always used a variation of this process, going from first to final draft in one pass (more or less), but this is the first time I’ve done everything she recommends, exactly as she recommends it. I found it workable, and even enjoyable. In particular, her advice to write down the main theme and sub-themes of the story, before you start revising, I found that to be invaluable.

Even though it was fun to work on paper, I don’t think it was really necessary—for me—to print out the manuscript, as she recommends, because I didn’t really make any changes that wouldn’t have been easier right on the computer. This may have something to do with how I write. Unlike Holly, for example, I do not tend to throw in new plot ideas while I’m writing my first draft. I would more likely do that while I’m writing my zero-draft. And because the first draft is a rewrite of the zero-draft, the plot holes that result usually don’t make it into the first draft. Likewise, I didn’t have many scenes that I had to throw away. (There was exactly one, and I know how it got in there in the first place, and it’s now less likely that a similar scene would make it into a future first draft.) Yes, there were lots of plot points, scenes, partial scenes, and so forth that I moved around, recast, and threw away, but they were all in the zero-draft, and I made those changes while I was writing the first draft. That probably made the revision process much less intense than it otherwise would have been.

Even so, I ended up—and I should have done this a long time ago—compiling a revision checklist, all the things that I was checking for. In software-development terms, these are my acceptance tests. These are how I know I’ve done my job correctly, or how I know what’s wrong with my story. If any of these tests fail, it indicates that I need to fix something wrong in the manuscript.

I will no doubt add to this list in the future. For now, here’s my revision checklist:

Style

• Words are spelled correctly.
• Grammar is consistent (tense, voice, etc.), or else there’s a good reason for any inconsistency.
• Prose uses the most powerful verbs and nouns available. Convert adverbs into verbs, if possible, and adjectives into nouns.
• Descriptive passages refer to as many of the five senses as possible.
• All dialogue, narrative, and description ping-pongs (is written in MRU’s).
• All sentences are clear and unambiguous.
• Every word and phrase adds meaning. Remove all excess words and phrases.
• Redundancy has been limited. Be wary of repeating the same information (e.g. character descriptions), especially using the same or similar words.
• Information is consistent throughout. No part of the manuscript contradicts information given elsewhere (except via multiple characters or multiple, unreliable narrators).
• Context switches proceed smoothly and naturally. If using a POV with multiple simultaneous viewpoint characters, make sure the narrative anticipates all context switches.
• There are no clichés.
• All passages engage the reader. Be wary of passages that makes you want to skim or fall asleep.

Scene

• Each scene helps build at least one of the story’s themes.
• Each scene develops at least one character.
• Each scene contains action, dialogue, setting, and description.
• Each scene moves the story forward.
• In each scene, something changes.
• Each scene is a story in miniature, with conflict and resolution, a beginning and an end.

Plot

• Each plot element fits the story and impacts the main story line (directly or indirectly).
• Each story thread goes somewhere.
• Each event proceeds naturally from the previous and leads naturally into the next.
• Each plot element melds smoothly with all others. Check for plot holes.
• Every implication of each plot element goes somewhere or is sufficiently explained away. Check especially for obvious outs, paths that if taken would make the conflict moot.
• Each plot elements fits chronologically into the story. Watch out for characters, for example, who could not possibly be at the stated place at the stated time (unless they have a matter-energy transporter).
• Each story thread has a beginning, a middle, and a satisfactory ending. Tie up loose ends (unless you’re intentionally leaving them there for a sequel).

Character

• Every character impacts the plot in some way.
• No character serves a purpose that another character could serve.
• Each conflict produces reaction in each viewpoint character involved in the conflict, or a reason why it doesn’t matter to him.
• Each reaction by a viewpoint character has a result that affects the character and his story, or a reason why no result is forthcoming.
• Each character change has a character reaction causing it, and a conflict that prompts that character reaction.
• Each character reaction is proportional to the conflict the character faces, in terms of his evident personality.
• A character’s quirks are consistent throughout the story (unless they change due to a bona fide character change). If a character wears glasses in the beginning, make sure he’s still wearing them at the end; if he sucks his teeth in scene 27, make sure he’s been doing so since the beginning; etc.
• The reader can understand each reaction by a viewpoint character. (Non-viewpoint character reactions don’t necessarily need to make sense to the reader, as long as they make sense to you, the author.)

-TimK

I’m chatting here in my virtual living room today with Julie Carobini, author of what she calls “beach-lit” novels: Chocolate Beach, Truffles by the Sea, and—her latest—Sweet Waters. As always, what I say is in italic type, like this, and what Julie says will be in a plain font.

Hi, Julie. Thanks for doing this interview for BeTheStory.com.

You’re welcome! Thanks for inviting me, Tim!

You’ve said that the sea is a demonstration of God’s creativity. I imagine this is what inspired you to write “beach-lit”? (I almost feel like you chose that tag to correct people like me, who was calling Chocolate Beach “Christian chick-lit.” )

Hey well, don’t take offense, Tim. No correcting meant on my part!

Sorry. No offense taken. (big ) I just was wondering why “beach-lit”?

I began using the term beach-lit around the time that my first book, Chocolate Beach, was released because my heroine, Bri, was more of the “anti-chick.” By that I mean she wasn’t the usual pink-clad gal who loves name-brand shoes and high-end fashions. She was a working mom who preferred flip-flops and casual hoodies— and of course, being at the beach.

So instead of focusing on the “chick” I focused on the location, the beach. More than that, though, my stories tell of how God offers “Waves of Grace” to those who love and serve him.

Right, that makes sense. I remember enjoying Chocolate Beach, because Bri’s character felt so down-to-earth to me, like an honest-to-goodness, average person. What’s the most significant difference between Sweet Waters and your earlier books?

In my earlier books, I let my sense of humor off its leash. Lots of asides were woven through those books. I love Bri and Gaby from my first two novels, but with Sweet Waters I wanted to focus a bit more on some serious, relational issues. So I reigned in the humor somewhat and allowed myself to delve more into the serious side while still writing an entertaining tale.

Your stories are about people and their relationships.

Absolutely! My books are more character-driven than plot-driven.

That’s one of the things, of course, that I love. Do you follow a process for creating your characters?

I’ve tried a couple of techniques for creating characters, such as interviewing them and writing their profiles. (Susan Meissner sent me the questions she asks of her characters.) Getting to know them is more than asking where they work and what kind of clothing styles they prefer, though. It’s understanding what pushes their buttons and why. The answers often lie in their fears. For example, Bri Stone from Chocolate Beach feared rejection— which drove her to do wacky things. Gaby Flores from Truffles by the Sea was afraid to trust. And in Sweet Waters, Tara is afraid to learn the truth about her family (which makes her want to run).

That’s one of the most fundamental principles of characterization. So how do you know what your characters fear, or more generally, what they feel, or how they think?

To figure out how my characters feel and think, I often read articles and visit psychology websites. When I wrote Sweet Waters, I consulted with several experts on birth order so I could figure out how each person would react to the various situations I put them in. I’m the oldest of my three siblings, so I could personally relate to some of Tara’s feelings of being overwhelmed with responsibility. I often drew from my own well when writing her.

I think we all find ourselves doing that.

And Tim, sometimes I just have to sit back, shut my eyes, and picture the scene with all the sights, sounds, smells that would be in place in a real situation. This is so helpful when I’m stuck and it’s often how I learn that a character has a twitch in their cheek or chews gum too much

Do ever feel yourself seeing your characters as real people?

Of course! I talk to most of my characters (and snub the antagonists ). Doesn’t everybody?

Probably. I know I do it all the time, sometimes to the point that it gets in they way of the story, when I have to put them through hell, and I don’t want to, because I care about them too much. Do you ever find yourself in that situation?

Unfortunately, yes. So I often must make it worse on them in the editing stage.

So do you have any tricks that help you distance yourself from your characters, while you’re creating their story?

I don’t really distance myself from them, but I do have a talk with them and tell them to “man up” (or “woman up” ). I reassure them that they will grow and learn from the process and then promise them a happy ending. I do write commercial fiction, you know, Tim.

You don’t have to sell me on happy endings. I love happy endings. And I love that you tell your characters that they’ll grow because of what happens to them. The trying experiences really do make us grow, both as a person and in our relationships with others. And when you realize that, your stories can be more than just fun tales; they can be inspirational as well.

Let’s switch gears a little. As a work-at-home Dad, I’ve found it difficult, stressful even, writing on a deadline, because family always seems to get in the way. What are some of the tactics you employ to make steady, daily progress on your novels, with the built-in distractions of being a work-at-home Mom?

I know what you mean. I’m so into my kids’ lives that it’s a wonder I can get anything else done. But I do.

First, I have to “get into” the story I’m about to write. By that I mean falling in love with it and the characters so much that in those small snatches of mind time that we parents find—making dinner, showering, driving—I converse with my hero/heroine. And I keep a notepad handy, even in church, and write pieces of brilliance when they pop into my head. And I don’t ever toss those scraps of paper until I’ve had a chance to type them into a NOTES document on my computer.

I use the “notes” feature on my cell phone, and can often be seen tapping away on it in the back pew in church. Haven’t had anyone look sideways at me yet.

Then when the kids are in school, I open up that document and really look at what’s in there and apply those thoughts, conversations, and witty pieces of dialogue to my work in progress.

And I pray a lot!

A wonderful note to end on. Thanks for such a delightful interview.

Julie’s latest novel, Sweet Waters, is now available and ready to be enjoyed. Also, check out her web site, and her blog (which is always a quick, fun read).

Firstly, if you want to get words out as fast as possible, and if you don’t know which narrative mode you want to use, don’t worry about it. You can always fix it later.

But when you do fix it, think about the strengths of each narrative mode and how they would affect the telling of your story. Then (as with any other creative decision) pick the one that you like the best. The Wikipedia page on narrative mode has some good information on it. (Not that I’m any fan of Wikipedia, but in this case, it actually does have some good info.)

Briefly, to construct a narrative mode, you’ll need to choose one from each of the following three:

1. Person – First (“I”), second (“you”), or third (“he”).
2. Tense – Past, present, or future.
3. Voice – Who is telling the story, and what does he know? Is it a body-less third-person narrator? Does the third-person narrator know only what he can observe (“objective voice”)? Or can he see into the thoughts of one (“limited voice”) or all (“omniscient voice”) of the characters. Or is the narrator one of the characters? Can you trust what the narrator says, or might he lie to you? And in what form does he tell the story?

Most novels are written in third-person past, and frequently in the omniscient voice.

Julie Carobini writes in first-person present for the main storyline, and in past tense for flashback scenes. I mention her, because she’s shown that using present tense can work. Here, the present tense places the ongoing action in the forefront, and the past tense puts flashbacks where they belong.

I’m doing something similar in my current novel: Third-person omniscient (past tense) for the main storyline, switching back and forth between my viewpoint characters (as Nora Roberts and Danielle Steele do). But this storyline is interspersed with memoir scenes, as it were, where one of my viewpoint characters writes about his own past, in the first person.

Bottom line: Narrative mode is simply another creative choice you make, which affects how you tell your story. So it doesn’t matter so much which narrative mode you use, only whether it does for your story what you want it to.

-TimK

Photo © 2006 Churl Han CC BY-NC-ND 2.0

Yesterday, I posted a status on Facebook about my new novel I’m working on: “This is a tear-jerker. Possibly the best story I’ll have written so far.”

That got me to thinking whether I’m conceited or deluded, to say that I’m now writing the best thing I’ve ever written. After all, who am I to say that anything I’ve written is worth anything?

Well, years and years of experience might have something to do with it, including all those stories I wrote that turned out to be utter crap. Enough people tell you that they really enjoyed such-and-such a story or such-and-such a book or such-and-such a blog post, and you begin to see the patterns that work and those that don’t.

But what if you don’t have those years of experience?

I believe that even if you’ve just started writing, you should be able to say that you’re writing “the best thing you’ve ever written.” Because everything you write should be better than what came before:

• Always be looking for ways to improve your craft.
• Write better and better and better, with each new piece you write.
• Read, read, and read some more; the best of those writers will rub off on you.
• Experiment with new things, new styles, new processes; keep doing what works.
• Write your passion, and find passion in what you write.
• Strive to make every new work the best thing you’ve ever written.

Not everything you write will, in fact, be better than what you’ve written before, because you’ll try new things that sometimes won’t work out, and you’ll occasionally write something that feels awkward to you, and sometimes you’ll be in a funk. But if you’re working on a new story or article or novel or blog post or anything else, and you suddenly feel like this is the best thing you’ve possibly ever written…

Give yourself a pat on the back, because it probably is.

-TimK

On the other hand, NaNoWriMo is a fun event for many people. And it spurs some to become writers, rather than just talking about maybe writing someday. And it does increase the efficiency, and even the efficacy, of some writers. Because NaNoWriMo imposes a deadline, as well as social pressure to meet the deadline. Both of these can be very effective.

The thing you have to remember is that NaNoWriMo is a sprint, as opposed to a marathon. It’s a lot of energy, a lot of speed, dumping a lot of words, fast, for a short period of time. And it doesn’t encompass the whole novel-writing process, either. There’s a significant amount of planning you should do, which you ideally should be almost finished with by now. And afterward, there’s at least one editing pass, maybe two (story revision and line editing).

So in the spirit of NaNoWriMo, here are a number of tips for completing NaNoWriMo, taken from my own experience as a writer and culled from other writers around the Internet:

1. Design your characters, plot your story, detail your outline, all ahead of time. In other words, know in as much detail as possible what you’re going to write before November 1 hits. You should know who your main and secondary characters are, what their human needs are, how they respond to those needs, how they fit into the story, how the story changes them. You should know what each character’s journey looks like and how they interact with each other. You should know how you’re going to tell those stories, chapter by chapter, scene by scene. Maybe even in more detail than that. I’m actually creating something I call a “zero-draft,” which is a brief telling of the story, piece by piece, but from a distance. There are few details, but all the components of the story are included, in the abstract, so that I can see how it looks ahead of time. If I’ve planned 20 chapters, I know each chapter will be about 2,500 words (50,000 words ÷ 20 chapters). I should have enough activity planned for each scene, and enough scenes in each chapter, in order to meet that target.

2. Allocate the time to write, and know when that’s going to be. Determine now how you’re going to split up the 50,000+ words through the month of November. For example, November contains 4 full weeks, and I usually get little (or nothing) written on weekends. So that’s 50,000 words ÷ 4 weeks ÷ 5 working days per week = 2,500 words/day. So if you follow this same schedule, you need to write at least 2,500 words each day, and 12,500 words each week. And if my novel has 20 chapters, that’s 1 chapter per day, 5 per week. I generally write in the morning and afternoon and at night. (If you have another job, you’ll need to work your own schedule to leave you time to write.) But if my novel is a priority, I’ll probably work on it first thing in the morning. This schedule also leaves one day of slack (November 30), in case something goes wrong, and something always does. So if you get sick, or you don’t get as many words written as you thought you would one day, or one of the kids decides to take a detour to the emergency room, or whatever, you’ll be able to recover without killing yourself.

3. Write without distractions. This should go without saying, but maybe I should mention it anyhow. You won’t be able to write with the TV on, or with the kids badgering you and interrupting you, or with any of the other constant distractions that we somehow accept in our busy-busy lifestyles. When you write, you should be in a comfortable position, using tools that you’re comfortable with. If you want, you can put on soft, nonintrusive music, without lyrics: classical, jazz, new-age, or the like. But this may either enhance your focus or distract from it; you’ll have to discover for yourself what works. The idea is that while you’re writing, your attention is absolutely focused on the task at hand.

4. No editing, at all. When you sit down to write, get the words out as fast as possible. Don’t even read what you’re writing. You’ll have plenty of time to read it and edit it later. It doesn’t matter if you’ve phrased it poorly. If you can’t think of the right word to use, just describe the concept as best you can, and move on. You have no time to dwell on minutiae at this point. Minutiae come later, during editing. If you can’t think of what goes in a particular spot, include a rough note to that effect [in square brackets], and move on. If you decide halfway through that your main character actually needs to be a 6-foot-tall lesbian (instead of a computer geek with thick, black glasses), just make a note [in square brackets] that you’re making that change, and write the rest of the text with the new character. You’ll clean it up in editing, but you don’t have time for it now.

5. Write in chunks, and keep at it until each chunk is done. When you sit down to write, you know what piece of the story you need to work on. Once you start writing that chunk (without distractions), keep at it until it’s done. Some NaNoWriMo participants advocate timed writings. For example, you set your timer to 10 minutes, you start writing, and you don’t stop until the timer goes off, and when the timer does go off, you stop immediately. I personally have found this exercise to be invaluable, because it trains the mind to get into the flow of writing quickly. Therefore, when it’s time to write, you will have trained your mind to be ready to oblige. However, I’m not sure how useful it is in completing a goal. You could try using timed writings, with short breaks in between, as a means of setting a more sustainable pace, while keeping your mind ready to work. Or you may find that just barreling ahead as best you can until each chunk is done helps you get the most accomplished.

6. Don’t stop while you’re writing, but do take breaks. It’s very important to keep actively writing while you’re writing. So whether you’re going chunk by chunk, or whether you’re writing in timed segments, during each session, you’re actively writing, pen to paper or hands on keyboard, scrawling or typing out words. If someone walked up and saw you, they should immediately be able to tell from your ongoing actions that you’re writing, rather than playing a video game or surfing the web. But it’s also important to take frequent breaks, in between writing segments. During these breaks, you should try letting your mind rest. Maybe listen to soothing music, or just close your eyes. Do not watch TV, because that will only stimulate your mind and wear you out. However, reading is probably okay, because it relaxes and stimulates your imagination.

7. There’s no such thing as writer’s block! Really. There isn’t. Well, that’s not completely true. There are physiological, psychological, and other reasons why you might not be able to focus on your writing, such as if you’re physically ill, or if you’re suffering from clinical depression, or if the kids interrupt you every 2 minutes with something that (in their minds) just can’t wait. (And kids do indeed do that. At least mine do.) In those cases, you have to deal with the underlying problem. But usually what people mean by “writer’s block” is just that they can’t think of what to write. You’ve planned your novel well, however. (Remember #1 above?) So you should always know what you need to write. It’s just a matter of actually writing it. Literally, sit down, and just write. And if you can’t think of what to write, or can’t think of what words to use, just start writing anyhow, whatever stupid, awkward words happen to come out. And within minutes, you’ll be streaming words onto the page effortlessly.

8. Measure your progress. There are two aspects to measuring progress. One is that you should be churning out the requisite number of words each day, on average. The other is that the novel as a whole should be on-track to encompass the requisite number of words. So using the example plan and schedule from above (20 chapters at 2,500 words each, written over 20 weekdays), you’d complete 1 chapter per day, on average. If you have a short chapter, and if after finishing it you still have time and energy left for that day, you should probably start on the next chapter, rather than putting it off till the next day. At the end of each day, track the number of words you’ve written (using your word processor, or using the word-count tool at NaNoWriMo.org). You should be completing about 2,500 words each day, and about 1 chapter each day. If you end up writing less than 2,500 words each day on average, you won’t make the 50,000-word goal. On the other hand, if the average chapter ends up being shorter than 2,500 words, you’ll run out of stuff to write before you reach 50,000 words. The sooner you can discover either of these, the more likely you’ll be able to do something to remedy the situation, before time runs out.

9. Share your progress, but shun criticism. Share your progress with others. If you have a blog, or if you’ve connected with people on NaNoWriMo.org, or if you’re on Twitter or Facebook, or whatever, share you’re progress day by day. You can even publish the text you’ve written or snippets of it, if that works into your plans for the project. However, the only feedback you should accept is, “Good job completing over 10,000 words so far!” (Or similar sentiments.) That will help to motivate you and keep you on track, especially during the days when you just don’t feel like writing. But you should not accept critiques or criticism, not at this stage. Criticism (whether constructive or destructive) can only slow you down, and there will be plenty of time later for critiques and edits.

10. Know what you’re going to do afterwards. NaNoWriMo will not leave you with a finished novel. Rather, it’s just one step in the process. Some authors, after they finish a first draft, leave it for a few months before editing. I’ll probably collect specific comments on the story for a month or two after the first draft is complete. And I’ll probably ask alpha-readers to keep that in mind during November. Then I’ll edit. Whether you edit in December or later, you should try a one-pass revision process. In any case, whatever you’re doing in December and beyond, don’t allow it to distract you during your writing, but do allow it to become a goal, a vision to strive for, a light at the end of the tunnel.

Best of luck in your NaNoWriMo project!

-TimK

P.S. Feel free to visit my NaNoWriMo page and add me as a NaNoWriMo buddy.

P.P.S. What other NaNoWriMo tips do you have?

© 2008 Ed Yourdon CC BY-SA 2.0

As you may know, I’ve never been able to get through a Nora Roberts novel. I’ve always gotten bored or otherwise lost interest. So then why would I say that I want to write like her?

It’s not a joke. I seriously admire Nora Roberts as an author, even though her fiction is not for me. Here’s why.

Look at Nora Roberts’s history as a writer, even from the very beginning. She got started in 1979, when she first put pencil to paper, literally, to write a novel:

She pulled out a pencil and notebook and began to write down [a story she had made up]… Several manuscripts and rejections later, her first book, Irish Thoroughbred, was published by Silhouette in 1981. [emphasis added]

Every new writer has his first manuscript rejected, by a publisher or by the market (and usually both). But not every new writer produces “several” manuscripts within a 2-year timeframe. Most new writers, unsure of themselves and with unhoned skills and process, use up years completing their first novel. And they may never complete a second. But not Nora. No, right from leaving the starting gate, she churned out manuscript after manuscript.

Since Irish Thoroughbred, she has published 211 books. That’s more than 7 per year, or about one every 7 weeks. Nora Roberts wins NaNoWriMo every single month of the year, from January through December.

Talk about being a prolific writer.

Truthfully, I don’t know how to get there from here. How to increase my story output to 100,000 words every 7 weeks. At this point, I don’t even know how to develop a novel-length story in 7 weeks, much less how to complete it. Something always occurs halfway through writing the story that requires me to go back to the drawing board, and that’s to be expected. Nora must encounter those things all the time as well, but she’s a professional, with a writing process that’s been honed through decades.

What’s the first step? Things I know work:

1. Set sustainable daily goals and weekly deadlines, and hold to them.
2. Know your writing process, continually refine it, and set aside time to work it every day.
3. Recognize impending procrastination, and thwart it.
4. Focus on one project at a time.
5. Get a rough story out, as quickly as possible, then develop it afterward.
6. Get the first draft out fast, warts and all, and then fix it afterward.
7. Use a one-pass revision process. (From first draft to final in a single edit.)

What other tips can you recommend for writing more prolifically?

-TimK

© 2008 Manuel M. Ramos CC BY-NC-SA 2.0

Because I’m a writer, when one of my friends can’t think of the right word for what they’re trying to say, they turn to me. “You’re a writer. What’s the word I’m looking for?”

Hell if I know. What do I look like? A dictionary?

God’s honest truth: as a writer, I can never find the right word. This may surprise you. I know it surprises many of my friends. Well, you’d think I would know the right word for each job, judging from my writing skill. But in reality, my vocabulary sucks. I usually know the right word exists. I know I’ve heard it before, or read it before. It’s on the tip of my tongue. But I simply can’t think of what it is.

This is as true of English as it is of other languages that I (almost) know. I usually have little trouble with grammar, even in foreign languages, because grammar is based on a relatively small number of general rules that apply to most words and phrases and sentences, with only a few exceptions. But vocabulary, that’s 228,132 exceptions (and no real rules at all).

No wonder I never write unless I have a thesaurus on hand.

Well, that’s not completely true. When you write your first draft, you should rarely (if ever) go to a thesaurus, because you want to get your ideas out onto the page as quickly as you can. You think much faster than you can speak or type, so you want to get those thoughts flowing and then let them spill out as smoothly as possible. So you pick the first word or phrase that comes to mind, no matter how stupid it sounds, knowing that you’ll be going back and fixing it later (if you even decide to keep it).

It’s during the “later,” during the editing process, that a thesaurus really comes in handy. Because that’s when you rearrange your writing, compact your sentences, put your thoughts in a better order, and choose stronger words and phrases with which to express them.

Here are 7 online tools that I’ve used, and how you can use them to help you find the right word.

But first, a word of warning. You want to be careful not to use these tools to dig up flowery or obscure words that ought to remain buried. Your goal is to say what you want to say in the strongest, most concise form possible. So you want to find strong, specific verbs and nouns, and you want to use strong, specific imagery. Your goal is to paint a picture, not to sound like you have your nose constantly tilted up into the air. So use these tools wisely, to find the right word for the job.

1. Thesaurus.reference.com has a good online dictionary and thesaurus. (I usually use the built-in Dictionary application on my Mac, though, because it’s readily available and does the job.) You usually know or have already chosen a word close to the one you want to use, and for these instances, a simple thesaurus may be the best tool. So you type that word into the thesaurus and look at the listed synonyms. For any synonym that’s closer to what you want to say, you look up that word also in the thesaurus, and repeat. This way, you construct a list of words that are along the lines of what you want, zeroing in closer and closer to the right word for the job.

2. The OneLook reverse dictionary lets you look up words by their definition. This is also an invaluable tool, which I always seem to be going back to. When you know what the right word means, but you can’t think of a related word, type in the definition into the reverse dictionary, and it will show you a list of words that are related to the concept you’ve expressed.

3. RhymeZone’s related-words search finds words that are semantically related to a word or phrase that you type in. This can be useful if you don’t have a feel for the word you want, but you know you need something better than what you already have. The related-word search allows you to start with a word or concept and go to other words using specific semantic relationships, such as synonym/antonym, more-general/more-specific, part-of/contains, used in the same context, or defined-by.

4. Lexical FreeNet (lexfn.com) also looks up related words, based on a number of semantic relationships. It includes biographical relationships. (So you can go from “George Washington” to “commander-in-chief,” for example, or to “Benedict Arnold.”) And it also includes rhyming and anagram relationships, which you can’t disable (or at least the “disable” feature has never worked for me). Lexfn shows all the related words in a long list, by relationship, and allows you to navigate easily from one to the next.

   Lexfn can also search for double relationships. That is, it can connect two words together, in two ways: (1) by finding the “connection” paths between two words, linking one word to the next to the next in order to get from one end to the other, showing each path and all the words along it; (2) by finding the “intersection” of two words, all the words related to both within some number of links, listed in a long list. These features can be useful if you want to find a word that’s related in meaning to both of two different concepts.

5. The Historical Dictionary of American Slang at alphaDictionary.com searches for slang terms by meaning, with limits for whatever time period you’re interested in. This of course would be useful if you want to find a vernacular term or phrase used in a particular time period in American history.

6. The alphaDictionary site also has a a list of dictionaries of technical terms organized by field or profession. Such terms usually pop up during research, into whatever field I’m writing about. And when you need to know what a specific word or phrase means in the context of a certain specialty, you need a specialty dictionary or glossary.

7. The American Sandbox Dictionary of Children’s Mispronounced Words can help you with ideas for your younger characters. An online lexicon is “coming soon,” as they say. But for now, they you can search the site using Google, and it’s fun to subscribe to the RSS feed to find out what pluk, smokinatroll, and blockmustard are. Out of the mouths of babes comes funny! Useful for generating ideas for endearing sayings for your children characters.

Again, you don’t want to write from a thesaurus, neither before nor after your first draft. But if you’re like me and just can’t think of the word you know you want to use, tools like this can be invaluable.

Keep writing!
-TImK

The interview went up a month ago at Beth Revis’s blog Writing It Out. In it, Casey talks about her blog and the features she provides through it, including a weekly “Agent Spotlight,” which features profiles of a children’s-fiction agents, including “the genres they represent… known sales and whether or not they’re editorial.”

But what really struck me was what Casey said about what it’s like to be a blogger, especially about how much work it is. This is something I need to occasionally hear, to let me know that I’m not out of my mind. Keeping a blog going really does take a significant, sustained effort.

Click here to read the interview.

-TimK

I have the pleasure of welcoming humorist Kevin Cummings to BeTheStory.com today.

Hello.

As you can see, what I’ve written is in italics, and what he’s written is in normal type.

Today, we’re going to talk about humor, about writing on a schedule, and about his new book Happily Domesticated, just released and hot off the presses.

So, Kevin, I understand that, even though you’ve been blogging only since 2006, you’ve been a humorist for quite some years.

If you define “humorist” as “smart aleck,” I’ve been a humorist most of my life. I’ve also been a writer for pretty much the same time. In elementary school I loved to write stories. Since I was a science fiction fan, I wrote a lot of really awful, derivative science fiction stories.

At the same time, I’ve always been big fan of written humor. I grew up reading Erma Bombeck, Dave Barry, and Pat McManus. When I was in college I dabbled in some humor writing, mostly leaning toward broad parody. As far as I knew there was no market for that kind of material, so that was just something I wrote to amuse my friends.

After I graduated, I started teaching Computer Fundamentals at a trade school. A colleague hooked me up with the local paper as a stringer and I was assigned things like profile pieces on beauty contestants and local politicians. One week I was headed out of town on a trip and didn’t have time to interview anyone. My editor asked if I could write about the trip for the Op Ed page. That became my first humor column. I guess you could say I lucked into writing humor.

After my editor left and the new editor cut the column, I spent several years trying to establish myself as a children’s writer. I wrote seven or eight unpublished novels, hung around with some really great people, and learned a lot about writing and publishing. I still have some really good friends in the children’s writing community. They’re great people and they’ve always been really encouraging.

Of course, I have yet to make any real money from my writing, so along the way I’ve been working as an educator. The trade school I started with has turned into a technical college and I’ve been lucky enough to work there for two decades. At present, I work in Student Services where it helps to have a sense of humor. My colleagues and I joke that we should have our own sitcom. We’re thinking of calling it “Student Affairs.”

(Chuckle.)

Writing discipline

Now, you’ve been blogging regularly, a post per week, since you started, like clockwork. What disciplines do you follow in order to get articles produced regularly?

Deadlines, and a slight tendency toward compulsive writing.

So your experience writing for a commercial newspaper must have helped you develop those habits.

Yes. In the early 90s, when I wrote that allegedly humorous column I mentioned, that meant I had a weekly deadline. So I had to find a topic and figure out how to string together enough words to fill the empty space. Even though the column was cut after a year, I learned a lot from the experience of having to write on a deadline.

In 2006 (for entirely the wrong reasons) I wanted to try my hand at podcasting. I knew I wanted to do something short and focused, so my wife suggested I resurrect the old newspaper column. At that time there were a lot of podcasts that flamed out after an episode or two. I didn’t want to be like that, so I eased into a production schedule. For the first month, I wrote essays. During the second month, I wrote and recorded. It wasn’t until June that I actually started releasing the recordings. Having that buffer took off the pressure to write this week’s episode this week, but I held myself to a standard of writing an essay a week.

When I look at my schedule for the week, I always set aside time for the writing. If I know there’s a week where I’ll not be able to write (travel, for example) then I write two essays the week before. It’s gotten to be a habit and I’m uncomfortable if I feel like I’ve skipped my writing.

I also contribute reviews to TechTalkforFamilies.com and the occasional piece to Grammar Girl. Those external deadlines help keep me honest with my internal deadlines.

Ideas

How do you get ideas for what to write on a given week?

Ah… That’s the real question isn’t it?

Although my writing is very personal, I try to find an angle that makes it universal… something that people can identify with. Some of the best ideas come from my listeners. One of my favorite bits came from a Twitter follower named Ogre_Kev. He suggested the term “computtering” for spending time on the computer doing nothing in particular. I liked that so much I turned it into an entire essay (with his permission, of course).

I also make it a habit to capture ideas. They’re kind of like buses. There’s never one around when you really need it and when they do show up, they come in groups. So, when the ideas present themselves, I write them down. I actually use Google Docs and have a text document I can access from anywhere on the web. As ideas occur to me, I put a few notes in the document. When I’m stuck for something to write about, I go back to that file.

Sometimes a really compelling idea will present itself, and I’ll run with it that week. For example, my wife just went through sinus surgery, and there were parts of the experience that struck me as being really funny. The anesthesiologist was talking about anti-nausea medications named Decadron and Zofran, and I was thinking, “Gee, those sound like the bad guys in a Saturday morning kid’s show.” The more I thought about the experience, the more I could see the humor in it. So while my wife was recovering, I used her experience as a topic. (With her permission of course.)

If there’s nothing that cries out to me to be written, I go back to the idea file and read it over to see what speaks to me. If that fails, I just pick something and run with it. Not writing isn’t an option, and if I wrestle with it hard enough, I can usually produce something I’m not too ashamed to share.

So are there any posts that you cringe at or wish you could erase?

Not really. Which isn’t because I’m a brilliant writer, but more because I write them a couple of months before I post them. I’m also very careful when I do the actual writing. I often discard large chunks of text that don’t work for me and write something to replace them.

Which isn’t to say that I love everything I’ve written. Writing on deadline means that you have to get used to giving it your best shot and moving on. Some of the essays are better than others. There are some that I really love and some that I’m just okay with. What matters most, though, is that I keep writing new material every week.

Writing process

After you have an idea, then what comes next? What method or process do you use?

Once I’ve settled on the idea for the week, I tuck it in the back of my mind to see what bubbles up. I also try to take some time for brainstorming. Rick Walton (one of the great children’s authors I mentioned) really taught me how to approach no-limits brainstorming. It’s all about letting your mind wander freely and then going back to look for the unusual connections between the things you’ve written.

My brainstorming usually results in a written list of ideas I want to explore. I take those to my desk and try to hammer them into some sort of cohesive essay. On the good days it just flows and the time flies by. On the bad days, every word has to be pounded into the page and none of them look like they belong there.

For a while, I got stressed and depressed when the writing was tough. It tended to go in cycles. I’d have a run of five or six essays that came easily and then I’d have trouble with the next five or six. In the middle of the tough cycle, I started to wonder if I’d exhausted my talent.

Then I saw a wonderful TED talk from Elizabeth Gilbert on the nature of “genius.” I’m not claiming genius status, but the essence of the talk—that feeling of “why aren’t I doing better today”—really spoke to me. I’ll leave it to your readers to watch the video. It’s not that long, and a summary really can’t do it justice. Suffice it to say that I’m much more philosophical about the tough part of the cycle now.

Yeah, I’ve seen the video, based on your recommendation. I highly recommend it, and it’s only about 20 minutes long. She asked why writers and other artists always seem to be psychologically miserable, and why people expect it, and the answers she posed made me look a little differently at my own writing experience, too.

So once you have the column written, do you edit it any further before pushing it out to the world?

Once the essay is done, I share it with my wife, note any comments she makes, and then put it away until it’s time to record it. The distance between writing and recording gives it time to cool, and I can come at it with a more objective point of view. I often tweak the essays when I record them, and those changes also go into the final version of my blog.

What is funny?

One thing I know have problems with when it comes to writing humor—and one reason I think I’m only hit-and-miss good at it— How do you know that something you’ve written is funny?

Honestly, I don’t ever really know that something I’ve written is funny. I think it is. I hope it is. Sometimes the things I find funny don’t connect with the audience the way I expect. Other times, little throwaway gags that I wrote just to fill space really seem to work.

That’s not to say there isn’t technique involved. A lot of humor involves surprising people in a way that delights them. This can be as simple as using a bit of broad parody to name something, like in the opening bit in an essay called “The Cluttering”:

Stephen King has made himself a wealthy man by writing books that play on people’s deepest fears; scary dogs (Cujo), scary prom dates (Carrie), and the scary consequences of meddling with dark forces to resurrect the dead (Harry Potter and the Semetary of Pets).

(Laugh.) It sounds like that also uses the Rule of Three.

Or it can be something more subtle like mixing up unrelated concepts in a surprising way. I wrote an essay about a protracted battle I had with a neighborhood cat. It kept killing birds in my yard, and I kept trying to chase it away. At one point I said:

For the next eighteen months I tried various combinations of weapons systems: squirt guns with ammonia, mothballs, mustard powder, mustard gas, and the occasional really mean glare.

Sometimes I just go for a funny visual image:

Some of the kids at the [mall] kiosks have so many tattoos and piercings that they appear to be refugees from the lost tribe of careless nail-gun owners.

There are lots of books that dissect humor and reveal the techniques behind being funny. There’s also a great humor writing conference in Dayton, Ohio every other year (at HumorWriters.org). I’ve never been able to attend, but I bought the audio recordings of the sessions and learned a lot from those.

But even with all the humor techniques you’ve learned, you still rely on feedback.

For feedback, my wife is my most honest and helpful critic. She’ll tell me when something works and when it needs to be reconsidered. A lot of the best jokes are a result of her efforts.

Of course, I always look for feedback from my readers and listeners. They’ve been very kind in helping me see which essays work best. I don’t get a lot of feedback on the individual gags, though. So I stick with the things my wife and I find funny.

Happily Domesticated

Let’s talk about your new book Happily Domesticated. How did it come about?

From the beginning, my long-term goal has been to build an audience. I would very much like to attract the attention of the traditional media. Some podcasters—Mignon Fogarty, Scott Sigler, J.C. Hutchins, Mur Lafferty—have been very successful at this and have parlayed their audiences into publishing contracts. So far, I’ve had limited success, but the book is an extension of that strategy. Through a pretty extensive marketing effort, I hope to attract and connect with a new audience.

It’s actually the third book I’ve released.

The first was called The Short Cummings Private Chapbook, and it was meant for family and friends and was used as a promotional item on Grammar Girl. The second was My Favorite Shortcomings, which was meant to mark the 100′th episode of my podcast. The e-book version was available for free, and last time I checked, it had nearly 5,000 downloads. The paperback is available via Amazon.com and Lulu.com, but it sold less than ten copies.

You gave me a copy here, My Favorite Shortcomings, which you’ve allowed me to link to for download. But now, Happily Domesticated…

Happily Domesticated is my first attempt at a more commercial book. It has forty-two essays from my podcast and blog, plus twelve from my newspaper days. I’m following the TechDirt.com motto of “Connect with fans and give them a reason to buy.” The new content in the book is something my fans haven’t been able to read before.

How did you decide on a title?

The title just sort of presented itself. I wanted to re-brand the podcast to see if that might make it more appealing to people. The original title “Short Cummings Audio” was a pun on my name and the fact that the podcast was short. It didn’t do a great job of expressing what the podcast was actually about.

For months I played with different names including “Kevin’s Quips” and “Kevin’s Shorts.” I went so far as to buy some additional domain names and I paid an artist to come up with some art for “Kevin’s Shorts.”

At the same time, I was working on the book and I wanted a title that would be easy to remember and might attract some attention when it went up on Amazon. The phrase Happily Domesticated occurred to me. For me, it summed up the mood of my writing. I’m a husband and father, and even though my life isn’t perfect, I’m content with what I’ve got. So I checked Amazon and was stunned to find that nobody had titled a book Happily Domesticated. The domain was available as well, so I snatched it up and used it for my re-branding and for the book.

Well, I want to thank Kevin for sharing his experience and expertise with us. And I urge you to check out his blogcast, which you can find at HappilyDomesticated.com, and his new book of the same name at Amazon.com.

-TimK

Catch it at Missy Frye’s blog, Incurable Disease of Writing, at this URL: http://www.missyfrye.net/Blog/?p=1896.

-TimK

1. Holly Lisle’s How To Write Page-Turning Scenes AUDIO (MP3) PLUS PDF VERSION – I actually have the How To Write Page-Turning Scenes PDF-only version, and I recommend it, as I do all of Holly’s writer’s tools. Page-Turning Scenes is about conflict: how to find it, how to create it, how to write it, how to get your characters into it—and out of it—with plenty of step-by-step. Conflict is the engine that drives your story forward, and so this is one of the fundamentals that you must have down in order for your writing to work. Therefore, Holly Lisle’s How To Write Page-Turning Scenes is a key resource for any aspiring fiction writer, and a useful checklist for every experienced one.

2. The 33 Worst Mistakes Writers Make About Russia by Irene Galaktionova and Neil Woodhead – This is part of the “33 Worst Mistakes” series, of which I have 3. I bought them to complete my research while writing my last novel. They mostly reassured me that I had gotten all my facts straight, but the “Firearms” volume helped me avoid an embarrassing faux pas that I should’ve known about before, and the one on “Disappearing” helped me rewrite a whole future story-line I was planning. So if you’re planning a story set in Russia or that involves someone from Russia, I highly recommend this ebook—sight unseen—as a cost-effective way to avoid stupid mistakes in your story.

   (Also check out the rest of the “33 Mistakes Writers Make” ebooks.

And as usual, I’ve used affiliate links on this page, which you can click on to show your support for this site.

-TimK

One of the more recent—and to me, interesting—psychological models is the APET model, introduced by UK psychologists Joe Griffin and Ivan Tyrrell. Their goal was to help improve upon cognitive psychotherapy by overcoming its limitations. But from a writer’s perspective, the APET model reflects much of the wisdom regarding human nature that storytellers have known for ages. And it builds on this wisdom with the latest discoveries from the fields of psychology and neurophysiology. This lets us writers see a more complete picture of what’s going on inside the heads of our characters, and therefore we can write them better.

The term “APET” is an acronym, identifying 4 stages of human consciousness: (1) Activating agent, (2) Pattern matching, (3) Emotion, and (4) Thoughts. Every time something happens in your story, it can kick off these 4 stages, in order, in the minds of each of your characters. And then based on how that process turns out, your character will do or say something, or will decide not to do or say anything. And many times, he will decide poorly. The APET model can help you (the writer) understand why he might make the wrong decision and how it could get him into trouble.

Joe and Ivan give an example in their article on the APET model. Here’s my paraphrase:

Anne is sitting at home, alone, reading a romance novel, when she hears a loud, sudden knock at the door. She experiences inexplicable dread. For a moment, overwhelmed by terror, her mind refuses to work, and her body, paralyzed, refuses to move. She wants to hide, to pretend that no one is home, that someone must have accidentally left the light on. She finally forces her heavy body up out of her chair and drags it to the door, at which the knock has by this time turned to pounding. As she pulls the door open, she is convinced that someone has died.

Let’s look at why Anne’s mind might legitimately go off half-cocked like this, and why it doesn’t mean she’s crazy.

1. Activating agent – This is something that happens in the world that the character observes or experiences, which kicks off a reaction. He’s not going to observe everything that happens in his world, of course. His wife sleeping with another man, he doesn’t see that, so (for the moment) it doesn’t exist to him. (But later on, his learning of it might be important.) On the other hand, not every event he has access to is going to cause him to observe it. He sees So-and-So walking to work, amidst all the other pedestrians on the sidewalk, but he doesn’t register that fact, because there’s nothing special about So-and-So to set him off from anyone else. In Anne’s case above, she was sitting alone at home when someone knocked at her door. That understandably provoked a reaction. But why? And why did it provoke the particular reaction it did? For that, we have to look to the next stage…

2. Pattern matching – It might help you to know that Anne had been reading home alone about a year earlier when a strong policeman knocked on the door, just like that, to deliver the news that her son had been killed in an horrific motorcycle accident. This memory is so emotionally charged, it stays in her unconscious mind, ready to anticipate the same feelings she felt that fateful night. This set of circumstances has for Anne become an instinctive template, triggering off an emotional reaction. Now, most activating agents won’t cause such a strong emotional reaction, but whether or not they do, and how strong a reaction, is determined by pattern-matching to these instinctive templates, whether inborn or acquired.

3. Emotion – The stronger the emotion, the more likely it will take over. As Joe and Ivan explain, “It is the nature of the emotional brain to think only in survival-type choices — fight or flight; go for it or don’t… The degree to which the fight or flight reflex is activated is the degree to which our thinking becomes polarised — more black or more white… We can’t be concerned with the finer detail when making a life saving decision.” In Anne’s case, she instinctively wants to hide from what her unconscious mind expects to find once she opens the door, and so she freezes, as if blending into the decor.

4. Thoughts – Thought always comes after emotion. “All thoughts and perceptions,” Joe and Ivan explain, “are fueled by, and therefore preceded by, emotion. We are not generally aware of this because it is often a subtle process.” More likely than not, our thoughts simply reinforce, or even rationalize, the emotional decisions we’ve already made. Occasionally, we find ourselves fighting with our emotions, as Anne does, and we may not even understand why. In her case, she has a very specific phobia—like some people are afraid of spiders. However, once her emotional arousal has subsided a little (i.e., she’s calmed down a little), she can think just enough to realize that she ought to answer the door. Even so, she struggles, and thoughts of death and horror continue to weigh on her heart.

As a writer, you should describe each character’s reaction stage by stage, because that’s going to feel most natural for the reader. And in dialogue, you have two characters, each perceiving what the other person is doing and saying, and reacting to it according to the APET model, in ping-pong fashion, back and forth. If need be, you could even make the reader aware of why Anne has the exotic phobia she has, simply by telling her back-story, even though Anne herself is completely unaware of the connection. Or you could have Anne think she’s going insane, but she slowly discovers and deals with the issues stemming from the trauma surrounding her son’s death (i.e., the patterns that have been ingrained).

-TimK

A 3-D computer mockup of the advanced copy of my first book, The Conscience of Abe’s Turn: Season 1, Volume 1

This appears to be turning into a blog-meme of sorts. No one has (to my knowledge) tagged anyone else, but the topic does seem to be inspiring a chain of posts.

Joanna Penn blogged back in April on 7 things she wish she knew before writing her first book. Then yesterday, Alexis Grant wrote about 4 things she wish she knew before writing her first book, ending her post with the question: Writers: what do you wish you knew before embarking on your first project? I saw these posts when Joanna tweeted them on Twitter, which inspired me to write this blog post you’re reading now. And that brings you up to date.

So now, while sipping the last of the coffee my pot will ever brew, between whiffs of acrid electrical smoke, I will talk about the 7 things I wish I knew before writing my first book.

1. Begin your book marketing before you’ve even decided what to write about. In other words, start marketing possible book topics to possible readers, before you even write your first word. My problem was that I got attached to an idea, and it became a labor of love. Still is! The characters in the Abe’s Turn universe are very real to me, and the issues that the story explores are ever-present and important. But what I didn’t bother to find out ahead of time was whether my target market—people who care about these issues with the same passion as I, and from the same perspective—would be interested in a fictional story. And now I’ve basically come to the conclusion that most of them see fiction as second-class, and it’s very hard to convince them of the value of fiction.

   There another aspect of topic pre-marketing, which I also with I knew ahead of time: finding a book idea that sells itself to a core group of fans. You need a group of prospective readers who are so desperate for the book you’re writing that they’ll plop down actual, honest-to-goodness money for it, with almost no convincing.

2. You can domust do your own promotion, but it’s harder than you think. Even if you go the traditional publishing route, you’ll need to do most of your own promotion. I actually knew this before I wrote my first book, but I didn’t realize how much work it was going to be, and how much effort it was going to take before making any headway at all. A lot of marketing experts, especially on the Internet, will lure you in with promises of instant wealth.

   But let me tell you the truth: you will work harder than probably you knew you could, and you’ll hit rock bottom, and all your friends and family will make you feel stupid and irresponsible and incompetent, because you’ve flagrantly committed yourself to such a risky outcome—like trying to make a living by playing the lottery—and you may even get mired down in these feelings (which will add months or years to the process), and as Luke from Gilmore Girls put it, you’ll just need to “jump in and be scared and stick with it until it gets fun.”

3. Regularly blog about the subject of your book before you begin writing it. A blog is one of the cheapest and most effective ways both to gain attention among your target market and to establish a relationship with potential readers. Yes, you can use ads (both online and off), and you can use press releases, and you can use publicity, and you can use direct mail… but none of these is as cheap or as easy or as measurable as using a blog.

   It’s also important to blog regularly, religiously, with urgency and discipline, not just when the mood hits you. And to build your blog readership, both by blogging regularly and by funneling readers to your blog and to specific posts, using whatever means at your disposal.

4. Being a great writer won’t help you as an author. Plenty of successful authors are mediocre writers. Want proof? Go browse the top-selling books in just about any category. It is indeed true that 90% of everything is crap. And I mean 90% of everything. 90% of unpublished manuscripts are crap. 90% of self-published books are crap. 90% of indie-published books are crap. 90% of third-party published books are crap. And 90% of New York Times best sellers are also crap. As long as you’re a merely competent writer, you probably have the writing skills to make it.

   So what’s the difference between a successful title and an unsuccessful one? It’s not the quality of the writing. I believe the difference can be described in one word: marketing. That is, knowing your readers, understanding their fears and worries and predilections and prejudices, establishing a relationship with them, and making them feel good about reading your books.

   And of course, that leads to the corollary…

5. It’s more important to build and understand your fan-base than to make your book perfect. In other words, you don’t have to edit your book until it’s perfect. It much more important to be blogging every day, and writing and speaking publicly about your topic—and that’s only after you’ve done your preliminary marketing so that you know what your topic is. Your book can have huge gaffes in it (at least the first edition), as long as your fans are willing to overlook them. On the other hand, your book may be a flawless work of art, and your fans may still tear you apart over piddling little personal grievances that no one in their right mind would understand. (“You wrote in first-person rather than third, which is what you’ve always done before, and it’s always worked for you, but you changed. How stupid was that? Why did you write in first-person rather than third? Huh?! Explain that, you hack!”)

   BTW, that example was inspired by real-life fan comments on Linda Howard’s novel To Die For, about which one fan said, “the whole 1st person thing traumatized me.” Oy!)

6. Begin designing and testing the front cover as soon as you know what you’re writing about, before you start writing the book. In other words, the front cover of the book comes first, before you’ve finished writing the book, not as an afterthought. Because the front cover of the book is the book’s primary marketing vehicle.

   And the back cover is the book’s secondary marketing vehicle. And for a paperback, the first pages (just inside the cover) are the book’s tertiary marketing vehicle. That is, when you hand someone your book—at least when I hand someone a copy of one of my books—they start by looking at the front cover; and if that intrigues them, they turn it over and read the back cover; and if that continues to intrigue them, they flip open the front cover and start reading the inside-front page, and then the page after that.

   So these parts of the book should be sketched out first, and mocked up, and shown to prospective readers so that you can get their reactions. And based on their reactions, you’ll want to adjust the concept and details of these pages. And you’ll also want to adjust the rest of the book, as you write it, in order to make sure it’s marketable.

   I know that this is the reverse of what most publishers do, and even what most authors do. For example, with fiction and memoirs, a publisher wants to see that you’ve written the entire book first, then you can pitch the idea to them. So as an author, you must invest massive amounts of time in a manuscript, without knowing whether it will be marketable. And then, you need to market it to editors at the publishing house, who may or may not know what readers really want (but possibly know it better than you do), and so your book may or may not be easy or hard to sell to actual readers, if and when it finally does or does not come out in print. And this is why I decided to go the indie publishing route.

   (However, I might imagine an author mocking up the cover and inside pages of a book, in order to establish that it is marketable, and then presenting that to a publisher along with the completed manuscript. I don’t know whether any author has actually tried that, though, or whether the publisher decided to scrap the market-tested material, or whether the book was ultimately a success or a failure.)

7. Being an author is an emotional process, and it can trigger depression. My book-authorship cycle goes something like this: excitement ➔ enthusiasm ➔ my blood dripping onto the page ➔ exhaustion ➔ first copies (optional, because it depends on publishing the book, but trés kewl) ➔ hope ➔ frustration ➔ desperation ➔ sad movies ➔ depression ➔ recovery ➔ excitement (again) ➔ etc. I still have faith, however, that I’ll be able to break the cycle by figuring out a way to circumvent the “frustration” phase, replacing it with “basking in the glory,” allowing me to shortcut directly back to “excitement.”

What’s fascinating to me is that most of these I actually did know. I knew them before I wrote my first book. But I had not internalized them. I’m still not sure I’ve internalized them, because I’m not yet a best-selling author. Yes, I did some of them right with my latest book, Love through the Eyes of an Idiot. So I guess I’m learning. But only in the wake of the recent economic situation have I found the diligence, discipline, and follow-through to start putting all these into practice, in a way I never thought necessary or possible before.

Someday, maybe I’ll write Book Marketing through the Eyes of an Idiot.

In any case, that’s my list of what I wish I knew before writing my first book.

If you’re a writer, what would you like to tell aspiring authors? What did you wish you knew before you wrote your first book?

“Do you have any ideas about how to incorporate backstory and the character’s thoughts into the story without interrupting the flow?”

Accomplishing this is actually much like incorporating any other description into the story, and there are several things you can do.

1. Forget about it. That is, forget about focusing on the backstory, or internal monologue, or description of the surrounding trees, or whatever has you in a bind. Rather, make the backstory part of your character, and then just tell your character’s story. Chances are, the backstory will come out by itself, at least those parts that are important.

2. Make it relevant. And by relevant, I mean “relevant to the conflict.” The story conflict is the engine that keeps the story moving forward, so whatever part of the character’s backstory (or thoughts or description) affects the conflict, that part will actually keep the story moving forward. A favorite example of this is the first chapter of Holly Lisle’s Hunting the Corrigan’s Blood, as she describes the setting Cadence Drake finds herself in.

3. Make it part of the conversation. So the realizations, reflections, and thoughts of your viewpoint character actually serve as one side of a conversation. This is what I did with my character Clydene’s thoughts during an emotionally intense conversation scene. (Note that this scene actually has two conversations going on simultaneously: that between Ted and Michael, and that between Ted-Michael and Clydene’s inner monologue.) Obviously, the other person in the conversation won’t be able to hear those thoughts (at least not normally), but you can still sometimes make it a conversation. In fact, the other “person” doesn’t even need to be a person at all. Imagine a character responding to her lap cat, or to the beauty of the scene around her.

4. Make it part of the action. Include each descriptive point as late as you can in the narrative, as close as possible to the action that actually requires that description. For example, the way Robert Heinlein described the battle in the lunar warrens, in The Moon is a Harsh Mistress. (p. 311: To read it, go to the above link, and “Search inside this book” for the words “Charged north in Ring corridor.”) Here, Heinlein includes both description of the setting as well as internal monologue of the viewpoint character. Despite this, the action never slows as the Lunar Defense Minister enters the battle to defend his home against the invaders from Earth.

5. Use the ping-pong. This is actually a generalization of the two tips above. When I say “ping-pong,” I mean what is usually referred to as an “MRU,” a motivation-response unit. (Randy Ingermanson had a good series on MRU’s on his blog.) I like the term ping-pong better. The idea, in brief, is that something happens to the character or that the character can sense, and then the character responds. Repeat until finished. Both action and dialogue sequences work best in this format. In general, if you have a slow sequence that’s hanging up the story, try rewriting it in ping-pong form; that’s bound to spice it up and make it move.

Keep writing!
-TimK