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[personal profile] mbarker
Original Posting 2021/3/5
Writer's Digest, April 1991, p. 40-42, had an article by Richard Hunt talking about how to avoid formula writing. This is where the twists are ones you've seen before, or maybe you're writing just like somebody else. Overuse, imitation, it just doesn't make the readers keep reading.

The basic strategy – don't take the easy way out. Avoid easy endings, well-worn phrases, and other trite repetitions. Now, how does formula writing sneak up on you? Well, Richard Hunt suggests three ways that it often weakens manuscripts. Imitating the style of an established writer, too many descriptive passages, and those stock scenes that we've seen so many times before.

Now, a good way for beginning writers to understand pacing, plotting, and other techniques is to mimic a famous author. But, you need to find your own voice, your own rhythm, your own style.

Now, descriptions sometimes choke out the other parts of the story. Kind of like kudzu! Pick your details, and clear out the kudzu in revision. By the way, be careful of adjectives.

Finally, make sure every scene has a purpose. Avoid stock scenes. Make sure each scene is interesting, and gives the readers some new territory to cover.

So, you can change the threat of formulas into original work. Twist the ending, mix in odd pieces, borrow from other genres, boost that ordinary uninspired story into the stratosphere.

Go ahead! Take something you've written, or are writing, and see if formula writing has crept into your work. Then try Richard's ideas. Work on your style, clear out the extra descriptions, and make sure that your scenes are all working for you!
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[personal profile] mbarker
 Original Posting 1/27/2021

Writer's Digest, October 1990, pages 10-12, had an article by Nancy Kress talking about "your story lives and dies on the strength of your opening. Here's how to live."

Nancy starts out by putting us in the head of an editor looking at the slush pile, with all the other work that the editor also has, and asks, "How far do you get before you decide to either finish the story or put it in its SASE?" (aka, reject it!)

Ideally, the writer hopes that the editor is going to give that story the same kind of attention they did, reading it all the way through without any distractions… However, the truth is, "you have about three paragraphs to capture that editor's attention enough for her to finish her story."

Nancy suggests that there are four elements that help an editor (and a reader!) get interested: character, conflict, specificity, and credibility.

Right off the top, the character, "who goes there?" gives a reader someone to focus on. So, introduce them right away, make sure they are integral to the main action of the story, and make sure they are an individual.

"Most successful openings give the reader a genuine character because most stories are about individual human beings."

Second, conflict! "Coming to a scene near you." You don't have to start with the body crashing through a window or something else like that. "Some stories feature overt, dramatic conflict; in others the conflict is subtle perhaps contained completely within the skull of one character." No matter what kind of conflict your story has, the first few paragraphs need to hint at it, give us a clue about the nature of the conflict ahead.

Third, specificity, "a new one on me." Specific details. Speech, setting, thoughts, something that is fresh and original for the readers. This also convinces the reader that you know what you're talking about.

Fourth, credibility, "can this prose be trusted?" Part of this is trust, built by those details, good handling of the language, and so forth. A tight portrayal? The right words, not the almost right word. Language that brings us into the story, not eloquence and erudition that makes us pay attention to the language.

Finally, Nancy suggests that writing "an opening that immediately introduces an interesting individual, hints at the conflict to come, uses fresh and telling details, and convinces a harried editor that you are a master of English prose" is not something that most of us can do immediately. Instead, you get to rewrite. Polish it until it shines!

So, four things to look for in your beginning. That character that makes us want to keep reading, at least a good hint about the kind of conflict that's coming, some really good details, and the right use of language. An obvious exercise is to take something you've written or a work in progress and look at the first three paragraphs, or whatever you think your beginning is (books have a slightly longer beginning than short stories, but you still need a good beginning!). Try writing a variation (or two or three!), emphasizing Nancy's four elements.

Write?
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[personal profile] mbarker
 Original Posting 8/4/2019

Writer's Digest, April 1992, pages eight and 10 had an article by Nancy Kress under this title. The subtitle says "To make your characters and setting universal, make them specific."Nancy starts with a short anecdote about a student writer who says their story could be about anybody, so they haven't really decided who the person is. They want to represent the universal human condition!"It's not that a single character in a short story can't represent the universal human condition. Certainly he or she can. But the construction of fiction offers a paradox here: the more universal you try to be, the more particular you must be in terms of character. The way to universality of theme lies not through creating anybody, but only through creating a specific somebody. The only way to achieve Everyman is to create Particularman."Why? Well, basically readers are looking for identification. How much does your character resemble the reader. If the answer is not very much, readers shift to trying to understand a different life. However, those different characters don't represent universals. They don't represent you! On the other hand, when a reader does identify with the character, they become universal – at least there's the author, the character, and the reader… And then there's everybody else."If your reader can identify with your character, that character has at least a shot at representing universality of human truth to the reader."So when do readers identify with the character? It's not through a lack of individual characteristics. Vagueness does not create identification. No, bonds are best built through similarities between the reader and the character, through definite qualities. "That's why the well-drawn individual character will seem more universal than a vague, amorphous one." What the character does and says and believes are things the reader can predict because the people feel real, and the reader can imagine themselves sharing.Reader identification!But, wait a minute, sex, age, socioeconomic class, interests… Those are not likely to be the same as the reader? Well, yes, but while such attributes influence how the character thinks and acts, it's really character, personality, individual essence that let the reader identify the character. Emotions!Along the way, it's not just characters. Setting also needs to be specific, with details chosen to illuminate, to give a impression.So, clean up the fuzz! "Fuzzy characters in fuzzy settings do not add up to depictions of the universal human condition.… To create the universal, create the particular, and create it in such a way that you take us below the surface of both character and setting." Make us notice, make us care, and we will love the story.So there you go. If you're looking for an exercise, take something you're working on, and go through and look for the fuzzy places, the characters and settings that aren't really specific. Then add the details, make them pop into the reader's mind.
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[personal profile] mbarker
 Original Posting Aug. 16, 2018

Writer's Digest, July 1991, has an article by Jeanne Muchnick on pages 20-23. Jeanne is talking about short stories. She points out that Edgar Allan Poe said, "short story should be brief enough to be read at a single seating, but long enough to produce the desired effect on the reader." Then she suggests that one way to get the right length is to think about writing a short story like packing a suitcase.

You don't want to jam everything into a story. That is a recipe for "confusing, overstuffed fiction: too many characters, extra plot lines, unneeded conflicts." You also don't want to make it too sparse or spare, leaving out colorful important details.

Short fiction, like longer stories, uses characterization, setting, action, and exposition, but you need to pack it carefully. So, what are the common mistakes and how do you correct them?

Character Flaws. First of all, don't bother trying to tell your readers everything about your characters. There's no time. All you want are pieces that are crucial to the premise of the story. She gives two examples, first of a beginning that focuses way too long and hard on telling us about a character, and then on another one that drops us into the story problem rapidly.

Setting. Again, don't plan on too many settings. The traps here are describing each scene in detail, so you don't have room for anything else, or making the settings so sketchy that they don't seem authentic. Most of the time, you want a single setting, maybe two or three. Another problem often grows out of trying to make each word count, so you try to "create powerful, well worded descriptive sentences…" And end up overdoing it. Stick to simple descriptions.

Narrative. In this case, we mean the flow of the writing, how everything fits together. Long descriptions disrupt flow. Drop in bits of description. Beware whenever one element starts to dominate. Keep it tight, don't get carried away with description, narrative, or even action.

"Learning to tighten your narratives is a matter of practice. Back to the suitcase analogy: once everything you need for the trip is laid out, look at it with a critical eye. First pack pack the absolute essentials, then see how much room is left, and get ready to leave some things behind."

The sidebar suggests asking yourself these nine questions to help pack your story…

1. Does the story seem realistic? Are there enough details to let the reader visualize the action, characters, and setting?
2. Is the drama introduced early?
3. Does the story rely too much on dialogue?
4. Have I used too many flowery adjectives?
5. Is there a subplot? If so, could it be edited out?
6. Are the transitions clear?
7. How many settings does the story have? Scene shifts?
8. Are there so many characters that even I have trouble keeping them straight?
9. What elements – characters, objects, actions, dialogue – could be removed without changing the story?

There you go. Pack that suitcase, and take your reader on a trip.
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[personal profile] mbarker
Original Posting Feb. 20, 2018

Writer's Digest, November 1990, pages 10-14, had an article by Nancy Kress with the title Your Most Important Paragraphs, II. Apparently the previous part, Your Most Important Paragraphs, I, was in the October magazine. I may find it, sooner or later, but let's take a look at what I do have. I think the subtitle helps, "How to create the 'zing effect'in your story openings."

Nancy starts by reminding us that last month focused on the qualities that a story opening needs. Give the reader a character to focus on, hint at the upcoming conflict, provide fresh and specific details, and write some credible prose. However, Nancy points out that she didn't discuss how much this helps you, that a strong beginning helps you know where you're going, and build your confidence by giving you a strong foundation. Then Nancy raises the question, "What if the opening you've written for a story doesn't particularly please you?" If it's just all right. Or maybe it feels good, but you've got the feeling there might be better opening out there?

Well, one answer is to go ahead and write several short openings, until one of them gives you that zing. What's a zing? "A zing is that feeling of rightness and eagerness that says Yes. This is it."

Then Nancy suggests two ways to create alternative openings. First, vary the narrative mode. Second, vary the point of entrance into the story.

Narrative mode? Well, Nancy says there are five ways to present information, dialogue, description, action, one character's thoughts, and exposition. That's what she means by the narrative mode. Most fiction uses a mixture, but there's often one mode that dominates. Take a look at yours. Which one are you really using? Dialogue, description, action – which is really description in motion, a character thinking, or exposition. Beware the exposition, readers don't like to be lectured. Still, if you don't delay the actual start too long, and it's an interesting chunk of exposition, you might get away with it.

So how can you use these modes? Well, deliberately rewrite your opening in a different mode, until one of them zings for you. Nancy actually takes Cinderella, and walks through five different versions.

Another way is what Nancy calls literary relocation, starting in a different place. You probably skipped over some scenes, left out some incidents, before the current beginning, and of course, there are obviously things that happen after the current beginning. You might try using one of these is a new beginning. Just try starting the story earlier, or later. Maybe with different characters? Lots of possibilities. Make a list, and start trying them out. Look for that zing!

Even if you stick with your original opening, you can mix in some of the ideas that these other options have suggested to you. Make that story richer, because you experimented with different narrative modes and different starting points in the action.

All right? For practice? Take a story you've written, or one you are working on, and write some alternative beginnings. Different narrative modes, different starting points. Try it out, and see what happens.

Write?
tink
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[personal profile] mbarker
Original Posting Aug. 4, 2017

Writer's Digest, March 1999, on pages 26-29 and page 51, has an article by J. V. Jones with the title "Once Upon a Character." The subheading points out "If you can master the magic of making sorcerers, giants and elves seem real to readers, no genre-fiction characters will be beyond you." Now there's a challenge!

Jones starts out by suggesting that you've done your background – research, a map, trying out swords, and you're ready to write… So your protagonist runs into a band of evil dwarves! And the start of that wonderful process of bringing together the companions is on. But… All too often, that mixed bag of companions is more like a bunch of carbon copies of every fantasy trope. So how do you make them complex, surprising, unforgettable characters?

Genre fiction often is full of stereotypes. But how can you do better?

1. Names!

Jones recommends getting a name that really fits. Not something unpronounceable. Something that throws light on the character. "A well-chosen name can evoke images and feelings in readers minds before the character even walks on stage."

Also, help the readers keep your characters straight. Large casts? Well, you can use their appearance to some extent, but let's face it, that's not that easy to remember. Memorable physical traits and appearances? Pick out one thing and make it memorable!

2. The Dwarf Is in the Details

Physical characteristics are useful, but you may need to go beyond that. Enticing, exotic details described in a way that makes them stick in our head. Clothing, weaponry, manners of speaking, dialect… One of the great things about fantasy is you can use all of these details.

3. Play against archetype!

Inside someone's head, using the POV, you get to show us just what makes that character work. But, don't overplay your hand. Make sure that the reader can identify with the character. Even archetypes are humans, too. Faults, foibles, failings. Consider breaking traditions. Oh, and Jones also gives us a sidebar suggesting that you may want to avoid these cliché figures:

– The firebreathing religious leader determined to squelch new ideas.
– The evil corporate chief who cares nothing for the environment slashes employees/inhabitants of the nearest star system.
– The scientist who can't see the danger his project poses.
– The brave but mysterious adventurer who turns out to be a long-lost noble.
– The misunderstood visitor who needs help to return home.
– The bloodthirsty military leader for whom the ends justify the means.
– The especially stupid authority figure who will not listen to reason and will botch every decision, thereby causing all the problems of the story.
– The thoughtless "good" King/leader who listens to stupid authority figures.
– The evil overlord who is pure evil.
– The has-a-good-heart-and-knows-what's-right-but-is-sadly-misunderstood younger sibling.
– Anyone astoundingly beautiful.

4. A good first impression.

With a good name, distinguishing characteristics, enough contradictions in personality to feel real, you come to the first appearance. When your character comes on stage for the first time, make sure that the reader gets a strong impression of the new character. "How can I present him/her in such a way as to make him/her interesting?" Book the readers, leave them wanting to read more about this character. Give them some good lines.

5. And of course, actions speak louder…

Name, faults, irrational fears and idiosyncrasies. Introduced in a memorable way. And action! Give the character something remarkable to do.

"That is the essence of a memorable character: human fears and human longings, and actions that rise above both."

There you go. So make those characters sing! Or swing their swords, or whatever.

Practice? Take something you are working on, and pick out a major character. Make sure you have a great name, distinguishing characteristics, a real personality, that first appearance that makes us want to know more about that person, and, of course, great actions. So make your characters work!

tink


[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
Original Posting 25 Nov 2011

What? The last note was on the 13th? And today is the 25th? ARGH!

Hey, all. I've been sick. Believe it or not, I've had a cold, which for a while just meant arguing with the dictation software about whether sneezes really meant I wanted a line of "him" across the page (does a sneeze really sound like "him"? Oh, well...). Then I lost my voice!

Which may not sound like much of a problem, but if you quit typing to save your fingers, and have been using dictation software -- a whisper doesn't cut it. So I went back to the keyboard for a while. Even though it does hurt, some.

Anyway, I'm recovering, and still meeting and beating Nanowrimo into shape! So...

Let's see. Old bits and pieces...

ARCS! Attention, Relevance, Confidence, and Satisfaction. Or as I teach my students sometimes, surprise! WIIFM (What's in it for me?), Yes, you can!, and last but not least, rewards, smiles, and other treats. That's one theory of motivation, and you can pay attention to those in your writing, too. Twists and other surprises keep the reader on their toes. Getting them engaged makes it relevant. Being fair to the reader raises their confidence. And oh, do those climaxes satisfy us. Emotional rewards galore!

Bradbury's formula!  "Find a character, like yourself, who will want something or not want something, with all his heart. Give him running orders. Shoot him off. Then follow as fast as you can...." And don't forget the zest and gusto, too!

OCEAN? What's a character? Well, openness -- desire for change (or not!). Conscientiousness -- planner or not? Extravert or introvert? Agreeableness? How many friends do they have? And neuroticism, that emotional edge? Right! Make them personalties, with some warts, and see what happens.

Bradbury again? Yeah... "You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you."

Go with the flow! Writing as a burst, a torrent of words flooding out. That's nanowrimo all over!

One more Bradbury notion? Aha, yes, the lists, the lists. Bradbury adored his lists, and so can you! Stop now and then, make a list of colors, of senses afire, actions, clues or whatever... and then expand on those, tell us all about them, and watch your words roll!

Ah, the metaphoric dance of the words! Yes, your neurons and mine enjoy connecting things up, so pick a number from one to seven (what, your die doesn't go that high? Okay, roll once. Odd is zero, even is one. Now roll again, and add whatever you get to your first roll. One to seven, with a bit of weight for the middle. Okay... where were we before I got distracted. Right! Pick your number and...)

Here's what you have chosen (behind door number 1, we have . . . ):

    1. Taking a bath
    2. Frying potatoes
    3. Boiling an egg
    4. Sending a letter (you remember, those funny paper things that preceded email?)
    5. Untangling a ball of string
    6. Learning to swim
    7. Starting a car in cold weather

Now, let your mind slide. That problem, that process, the incident in your story? How would you explain it in terms of this metaphor? What relates? What doesn't relate? What if...

There you go, a metaphorical fling for the fancy!

Oh, my. Then I threw in the business metaphors? I really wanted you to scramble those metaphors, fry some words, and get cooking, didn't I? Let's see, journeys, games, war, machines, organisms, social groups, family, jungle, and the zoo. Pick a style, narrow it down a bit and pick an example, then let the correlations begin!

Filling out characters? Right! Onions have layers, ogres have layers, and even secondary characters deserve a layer or two. Goals, motivations, conflicts, some change... make those characters stand out for us!

And today's old Nanowrimo posting? All about filling in the actions. Instead of just doing a scene change to put your favorite character at the next place where they get their lumps, consider filling in all the steps of getting there. And of course, in the scene, instead of just gliding over the action with summaries, go through the actions. How does the hero fry a hamburger, anyway? With a twist of garlic? And a dash of vinegar? Huh...

These nanowrimo notes are available at length somewhere over here http://writercises.livejournal.com/?skip=30&tag=nanowrimo along with many more!

But the key right now is ... I hope you are enjoying your Thanksgiving, Black Friday, and whatever, and getting ready to slam through the finish line on Nanowrimo, coming up next week! Scribble, tap, yackity-yack!
[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
Original posting 6 Nov 2010

Okay. Yesterday was a bad day for me. I got busy with work, fought off the dripping nose with a dose of whatever the medicine is, but paid for the temporary relief with a series of fun symptoms such as sleepiness, dry mouth, and aching sinuses. For a while, I thought I was going to do something, but I finally just gave up. After all, I had managed to do a little, enough that I was over my target for the day (with extra from before). Funny part is that the nano site insisted I slipped a day because I didn't meet the daily level, even while it admits that I'm ahead overall. Me thinks there's a glitch in the program, there, but I'll not argue with it. (and I notice today that they seem to have removed that line from the stats. Perhaps someone else argued?)

Let's see. Over here http://community.livejournal.com/writercises/141633.html I mused about the little stuff. Adding in some details about what's going on, how your hero and his team actually got from their gathering place in the inn of the seven gables to the great fight scene, and all that stuff. (A bus? They took a bus? Did they have to change lines, or was that an express?)

Still a good idea. After all, just because your characters are heading into major fun and games doesn't mean they can avoid all the little trials and tribulations of life. When they get up, they probably need to go through their morning routine -- shave, brush teeth, wash face, shower, bath, makeup, dressing, and all that stuff. Eating lunch? Hey, they have to sit down, order (assuming they're in a diner or some other eating establishment), pick up the napkin and put it in their lap (or do they tuck it in their shirt? I remember eating once with a young man who did that. I kept wanting to laugh every time I looked across the table, but it did keep the food off of his shirt.). Get the food, and walk through unwrapping the burger, eating some french fries, putting a straw in the drink and sucking on it, all those little bits and pieces! Oh, and did you ever notice that the first draught of a soda and the last dregs are different. Something about the ice melting, and the fizz going flat. And that wonderful sound of someone trying to suck a little bit more out of the glass, the swish, swish, rattle.

Any and all of that detail is grist for your word mill! And who knows, you too might become well known for telling 24 hour stories in a mere 500 pages or so (not in an hour long show).

Okay. The point is that adding in details about the background, daily life, all the contents of the bag that fell to the floor when the old man missed putting it on the table (what, you don't want to know that there was garlic cloves, an onion, a quarter pound of chopped beef a.k.a. hamburger, a loaf of stale bread, and a half-dozen eggs in the bag? Or that when he picked it all up and found two eggs broken, he stirred the ingredients together and made meatloaf? Which reminded him of that old TV show, where the son-in-law was called meathead, and he laughed as he tried to remember who the other characters were. Archie Bunker? And his wife was... huh, that's gone. How about the cute blonde with the big smile that was the daughter? All In The Family, that was the show, and I'll bet Google could provide enough details, maybe even a joke or two, that you could have your character watch an episode if they happen to be living in that time and place...).

Details! That's the thing that makes the story ring, and fills the wordy count of nano...

(Edith Bunker! And Gloria? Yeah, I think that was the daughter... sigh. Those were the days, my friend...off to put some more words in the mill before the sun sets in technicolor splendor over the hills and byways)
[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
Original posting 2 March 2010

Writers' Digest, October 2004, pages 26 to 33, has a collection of short "nuggets of wisdom" related to getting published. Maria Schneider is the author of the compilation. Take a deep breath, and here we go:
"Successful freelancers know they have to take the details seriously. Nothing stands out in a query letter more than a glaring error, and respecting AP style is one of those editorial no-brainers." Marnie Engel Hayutin
Another piece of advice about making sure that the details are right -- so that the editors don't trip over them. Spelling, grammar, AP style or whatever style is appropriate, get the little stuff right so that slush readers, editors, and so forth don't pay attention to that. You want them to pay attention to your story, the big picture that you're trying to show them. If they trip over extra apostrophe's, miss spellings, or even, the extra, commas... they might miss a really good show!

It's that notion again of making the frame invisible. Sure, we can do a baroque or rococo style presentation, calling attention to our literary word choices and extravagant use of punctuation, but by and large, that's unlikely to sell a story. So think about polishing those details.
[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
Original posting 5 Jan 2010

Writers' Digest, October 2004, pages 26 to 33, has a collection of short "nuggets of wisdom" related to getting published. Maria Schneider is the author of the compilation. Take a deep breath, and here we go:
"Try narrowing your focus or offering a unique point of view, then offer as much detail as you can about how you'd organize the piece and whom you'd interview. List actual names you know you can get, instead of vaguely referencing 'experts in the field.' Then tell the editor why you're just the writer to do it." Kristin D. Godsey
Another quote that seems to be aimed at the nonfiction side of the house -- although it's probably good advice for fiction writers too. Instead of telling us the history of the universe in three pages or similar wide views of the world, focus on a human-size story. Tell us about someone that we can identify with, doing something that is believable. In a particular place, with very real surroundings and characters. If your little town is in Kansas, we may not be able to find it on Google maps, but we should have the feeling that is an error in the maps -- that is just in between those other three little towns, and it's got that willow tree on the bank of the stream, and the ice cream shop on the main street. Avoid generics -- there may be cheaper, but you want reader recognition. Which means details, specifics, someplace that is waiting just around the edge of your page.

OK? Not a big city, but New York City, Milwaukee, Chicago, San Francisco, or some other particular place. Small towns -- make us feel as if we would recognize it, if we drove through it. And make the people live and breathe.
[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
Original Posting 31 Dec 2009

Writers Digest, February 2008, pages 79 to 80 has an article by Steve Almond with the title, "Master Your Metaphors." Steve doesn't seem to like metaphors very much, so let's look at what he's got to say.

He starts out by defining metaphors -- direct comparison of two seemingly unrelated subjects. Not to be confused with simile, which makes the comparison explicit by adding in "like" or "as."

The reason for using metaphors is to make the prose more vivid. It's a tool. Unfortunately, Steve points out, metaphors often are assertions of the author's talents, instead of ways to immerse us in the characters' world. They're distractions more often than aids.

Realistic short stories need simple, concrete physical details -- not metaphoric overloads. An untucked shirt might well be a metaphor -- or at least a clue -- to the mental state of the character, but it seems too mundane. So writers toss in storm-tossed feelings, train wrecks of emotions, and jungles of misunderstandings... and readers can't see the characters for the metaphoric mess.

Steve's other objection to metaphors is that they distract readers from verbs. Too often, they are added around perfectly well-chosen verbs, and the reader gets lost in the metaphors (again!). Cut the metaphors, and let the verbs stand on their own. Make the reader focus on the action, not the writer's fancy metaphorical comparison for the action. The right verbs don't need the extra words.

Finally, Steve recommends that if you want to use a metaphor, be precise. Yes, metaphors are figurative. But you still need to make them accurate. Check your metaphors against this list:
  • What work is this comparison doing?
  • Is it essential to the story or optional?
  • Does directing readers away from literal truth point them towards deeper truths?
And Steve provides three exercises! Yeah...

1. Consider the physical and emotional connotations of comparing your protagonist to:
  • a hummingbird
  • a walrus
  • a leopard
  • a dung beetle
2. Their bodies met like a _______ and a _______. Consider what the right comparison might be based on the following settings:
  • a funeral
  • a bordello
  • a battlefield
  • a family reunion
  • a space station
3. Take a look at your most recent story or chapter. Underline every single metaphor or simile. Force yourself to articulate what essential work each is doing on behalf of your fictional world. Now cross them out, one by one. What have you lost? What have you gained?

Metaphors and similes. They're a part of our language, and we often use them without really thinking it through. And like most cliches (notice the simile there?), they can drag our writing into the dirt (metaphorically, of course). So we need to pay attention to them, and choose carefully when to use these tools of the writer.

Write?
[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
Original posting 1 June 2009

Writers' Digest, October 2004, pages 26 to 33, has a collection of short "nuggets of wisdom" related to getting published. Maria Schneider is the author of the compilation. Take a deep breath, and here we go:
"When you give a reader a book, you give them an emotional experience. And you pick that emotional experience in the details you provide. Through the reading, you smell the coffee and chocolate chip cookies baking in the oven, and you want to stay in the woman's kitchen." Janet Evanovich
Sometimes I think we forget that reading is emotional. Writing, putting together character and plot and all the other bits and pieces, can be overwhelming. And in the process, we may forget that the reader expects you to tug on their emotions. Coffee, chocolate chip cookies, sitting in the kitchen -- or racing down the street at midnight trying to avoid the faceless horror -- the point is not so much the rational mental process as the emotional roller coaster ride. Make them laugh, make them cry, make them feel.

Write!
[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
Original posting 27 April 2009

Writer's Digest, September 2005, pages 51 and 52, have an article by April Henry
with the title, "A Series of Details." The point of the article is that especially for mystery writers, a first book often spawns a series, or at least a sequel. And mystery writers who have done this have some suggestions about things to think about when writing your first book so that the series isn't so hard to do. Building in the potential for a series, instead of stumbling and causing yourself problems. Okay? Here are the suggestions.
  1. Pick a strong main character. Some authors prefer a character with a similar background, or at least one that they know a lot about. It makes the research easier. Others create a character from scratch, with the setting and occupation designed to make it easy to bring in characters and events. Other authors plan on a series, with protagonists who move around and are really the only thread holding the series together.
  2. A job. The main character's occupation -- how do they make a living -- is something that's important for life and for your series. Sometimes they simply inherit enough money. Other times the job pushes them into encounters. Reporters, policeman, taxicab driver -- they are guaranteed to be poking into things. Sometimes the job is simply distinctive -- an industry or field that is interesting because most of us don't know much about it. Flower arranging, dog training, whatever you'd like to explore. Sometimes there is a bit of difficulty bringing in the mystery genre corpses, but it's generally possible. Or, your character may change jobs.
  3. Series regulars. Coworkers, cronies, relatives -- they suggest balancing kooky and conflict with some support and warmth. Be careful about details of the characters' lives -- you may want to keep the character file, with eye color, height, relatives, and all that stuff to help you keep the continuity. Love life? And you may want to have a loyal sidekick who's really good at research, or has other redeeming qualities (remember Kato -- from the Pink Panther movies?).
  4. Time and place. Is your series set in real time, in a real place? Are the characters aging normally?
An interesting piece of advice is to leave openings for series potential. You don't need to nail down every detail in the first book. Leave some open ends and threads -- it will let you add things later, and it's more interesting for the readers, too.

Exercise? Take a look at a work in progress, and consider how you would answer the editor who says, "I loved it. Can you make a trilogy out of it?"

Write?
[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
Original posting 13 March 2009

Details, details

Writers Digest, June 2006, Pages 18 and 19, in the Fiction Essentials column by James Scott Bell, talks about "Weaving Your Research." The point is to add details about setting so that they enrich the story but don't overload the reader. No info dumps here.

Bell starts with a little story about Dean Koontz, writing as Leigh Nichols, and the novel The Key to Midnight. It's set in Kyoto Japan, and people familiar with Kyoto have congratulated Koontz on how well he portrays things, asking when he visited. His reply? "I've never even been in the Pacific Ocean up to my neck."

How did he do it? Research. Books, maps, memoirs, other books. And then he boiled it down to details seamlessly woven into the narrative. So how can you do that? Two steps.

Step one -- do the research. Find sources and resources, and work with them. One author starts with his own research reading, writes first drafts, and then talks to experts about specific questions. You also want to give them a chance to talk to you, to tell you what they think is important.

Step two -- weave the details in. We all have a tendency to overdo settings and descriptions -- we got all that stuff, let me dump it on the reader. Frankly, readers don't care. They're interested in the characters. Setting and details are important as far as they help make the characters richer and more believable. So you need to integrate details into the story.
  1. Place your details inside action. These details make the character's actions feel real.
  2. Place details inside character's thoughts. Now the observations serve two purposes -- they show us the setting, and we learn little more about the character.
Balance detail and action. Bell doesn't mention it here, but the sandwich approach works pretty well. Give us a little taste of action -- a hook. Then spend some time on setting and detail. And cap it with more action. We're more happy with that sandwich than just a plain slab of details and description.
"Pay attention to the writing styles of your favorite authors and follow the tips above to interlace research into your characters' respective thoughts and journeys. Do it well and your readers will be swept away by your writing without even realizing it's the colorful details you've sewn in that make the story so good."
Sounds like fun! Here's an assignment. Go over to Wikipedia http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Main_Page , and poke around a little. Maybe try out the random article link. Collect your research, then put it in a scene. Make sure you wrap those details in action or in character viewpoint.

Okay? Write!
[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
Original posting 23 December 2008

And it's time for yet another article from Writers Digest. This one, from pages 26 to 29 of the February 2005 issue is by Michael J. Vaughn, with the title "Anatomy of a Bestseller." Basically, he looks at Life of Pi, Bridget Jone's Diary, and the Rule of Four to pull out some lessons about writing. To be precise, he offers six points. They even have exercises! So what are the suggestions?

First of all, "If anyone tells you he has a sure-fire formula for a bestseller, quickly back away and keep one hand on your wallet." Good advice. Still, there are some useful ideas such as:
  1. Make Promises. Foreshadowing that there would be death involved, raising a puzzle about the protagonist, or simply promising to have fun. "You do need to deliver an intriguing promise, and you need to keep it."
  2. The Pistol on the Mantelpiece. If you spend time on something, use it later. When you create an expectation in the reader, fulfill it later.
  3. Lingo Bonding. Circles of friends often use slang and syntax and phrases that help define the group. An author's use of language can also build a relationship with the readers. Wordplay and other treats for the readers can be helpful.
  4. Crank It Up. Give your hero a hard time. "Adversity is the most essential spice in the fiction chef's pantry. Just when things look their bleakest, however, stop and ask yourself this question: How can I make it even worse?"
  5. Mess with People's Beliefs. Challenging long-held beliefs sells books.
  6. Attention to Detail. Many people brush aside comic works, and yet, comedy is hard to write. Well-rounded characters, and attention to detail -- a body of knowledge -- makes people read the book.
"If you take anything away from this session of idea-harvesting, take this: you'll save yourself a lot of trouble if you take on the subject you're passionate about. The work will seem like joy, the joy will radiate from the page and perhaps, someday, you'll find your name on that precious list of bestsellers. And people will steal ideas from you."
So there you have it. Six ideas, no waiting. Oh yes, let's take a look at the exercises.
  1. Make promises. After you write your climax, go back to the first pages of the novel and see if there aren't places you can insert hints about what's coming.
  2. The Pistol on the Mantelpiece. When something just appears in your story and you don't know just what it means, go ahead and write an explanation for its appearance and how it might affect the plot.
  3. Lingo Bonding. Unusual names, phrases, etc.? Devise a bit of back story to explain it, and then feel free to use it as a running thread in the story.
  4. Crank It Up. "Got your hero pinned to the mat? Stop right there, take out a piece of paper and write 10 ways you could make the situation even worse. You may decide to use none of them. But one of them could be just the twist to make your story unforgettable."
  5. Mess with People's Beliefs. If you're considering issues you'd like to write about, think about the ones where you're not sure -- that you struggle with. Gray areas are more interesting and surprising than simple black-and-white ideas. Or take an issue or stance that most people would support and think about a scenario where you would argue the opposite of the majority.
  6. Attention to Detail. When you start your novel, consider the hobbies and backgrounds of the characters. Do some research.
That's from Michael Vaughn. I'd like to add that you might consider taking a few moments with two or three books that you like, and think about what writing lessons or guidelines or ideas you might take from them? After all, making up your own guidelines -- with a catchy little phrase, a description of what it's all about, some links to the examples from the books, and a reminder to practice -- this is a great way to expand your journal of writing tips.

And if you want to, feel free to post some of them here on the list.
[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
Original posting 1 June 2008

Make a Scene by Jordan Rosenfeld

You probably remember that we are walking through this book, and we've just talked about the setting for the scene (a.k.a. Chapter 5). Coming right behind that, we have Chapter 6 talking about senses. Sensual details -- probably the key tools for bringing your written world alive for the readers. And as Rosenfeld points out, that's not just sight and sound. Smells, tastes, and all of the wonderful feelings.

So the first thing to pay attention to is authenticity of detail. Things need to be realistic and believable. Blackberry pie doesn't smell like meat, and the senses need to be integrated and blended into the scene and setting. Don't just add them as gilding around the edges, make them seamless backdrops to the scene, characters, action.

Sight is probably our most important sense. It's also tricky because writers rarely draw pictures to go with the writing, and yet you want your readers to come away with the impression that they have seen what was going on. You need to provide mental images of the characters, the world they are in, their actions, and all of the other surroundings. You need to have a good visual idea to provide appropriate cues. You're going to run your camera (the point of view character looking around) over the world. Beware of what Rosenfeld calls double vision -- Jimmy saw something. We already know that Jimmy is looking around. Just tell us what he sees, don't make a big fuss about him seeing things.

Interestingly, Rosenfeld suggests that touch be the second sense that you try to work in. We all poke and prod and touch from our very first days as a baby. So put a little bit of practical touch into your story, but don't overdo it. Fidgeting and fumbling in the middle of dialogue is very common. Personal touches -- what a person is willing to touch and who -- also tells us a lot about the character.

Then there are smells. Smells are sometimes extremely evocative (note that doesn't mean they start fights -- it means they make us remember things and feel things). Memories and emotions get cued off of those little nasal neurons, so use them to dramatic effect. There are good smells and of course stinks -- er, Rosenfeld calls them bad smells. Choosing to associate certain characters or situations with certain kinds of smells can fairly quickly get across a judgment to the readers. The key here is to think about smells and use them in your writing.

Sounds. So often mysteries use sounds or the lack of sounds to help with setting, plot, and character. Wherever we go, sounds are a big part of the setting and the action. So make sure that your scene has the right acoustic background. "Sounds enhance mood, set tone, and create atmosphere, and should not be forgotten when setting the scene."

And last but not least in Rosenfeld's list is taste. Eating and various other times, we taste things. It may not be something that you want to put in every scene, but where it fits, let your characters taste.

[Interesting. I tend to think of the physical sense of motion as one more in this list. It's not just touch, it's the whole muscular balance physical feeling of doing things. Flying by the seat of your pants, putting your foot to the floor, and various other strains and struggles. Don't forget them!]

Rosenfeld points out that a lot of this comes naturally and in natural combinations. That pie that the character is looking at involves sight, smell, probably taste if they can manage to sneak a piece out, perhaps all the fun of cutting the pie and trying to lift out the first piece -- and the sound of the cook yelling as they find out that some one got into dessert before dinner! But when you go back to revise your scenes, make sure that you think about the various senses and consider the balance. Lots of talking heads? Get their hands in the mud along the streamside, and have them trying to catch frogs in the evening twilight. Or whatever, but put those senses to work.

And an assignment? Okay, pick up your favorite story and pick out a scene that you really think works well. Now go through it looking for each of the senses. How did the writer use the senses to set the scene, bring out the characters, make the plot move, and so forth? Did they skip one of the senses? Consider why, and how that sense might be worked into the scene. Suppose one of the characters has lost their glasses, has a cold, or otherwise is somewhat impaired today in sensations. How does this change the scene? How do you make the reader feel that stuffed-up separation from the world?

So -- a scene? Setting and senses, the background and the perception of the world. And next -- people! Character development and motivation.

When we write, we set dreams free.
[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
original posting 24 May 2008

Make a Scene by Jordan Rosenfeld

(We're making a scene, checking it twice, gonna find out who's naughty and nice . . .)

Okay. So we got the idea that a scene consists of a launch, a middle, and a bang up ending. In part two of his book, Rosenfeld looks at some of the ingredients or core elements that we use to put that together. The setting, senses, character development and motivation, plot, subtext, dramatic tension, and scene intentions (interesting, Dragon NaturallySpeaking likes to make that "and tensions" or "in tensions" rather than "intentions." And there certainly is a lot of tension :-). Quite a few ingredients in the stew, so let's start chopping.

Chapter 5: Setting starts out by pointing out that unfamiliar surroundings often make us feel unsettled and overwhelmed. The writer's job is to "act as a tour guide through each scene, expertly guiding the reader to all the important details, pointing out only what is necessary and what will help the reader understand what he sees."

So even though setting is mostly there to support and contain the scene action, and in most cases will not be the star, you need to think about it carefully and help the reader feel comfortable about where this is happening. The stage for any scene is what is seen. You're going to make a world, give the reader a framework so that they can sit down and look around. Sounds like fun!

Even though the setting is just a backdrop, you need to establish the setting to keep your characters from being floating heads. You can start out with a pretty sketchy setting and then fill in the details later, but you need to make sure it is there. Big things like the general geographic location, nature, and any homes and buildings. Locations, whether next door or across the galaxy, give the reader and the writer lots of information. A setting in Florida is not the same as a setting in California! Nature and the time of year combine to create outdoor settings that can involve weather and temperature and all kinds of wonderful background. And then there are buildings and houses and homes and rooms. All the great background of civilization, from small towns to great cities.

Next, think about the setting details. What is the time in history? Is it the wacky era of the 70s? Renaissance Italy? Or the year 9595 when it isn't any too certain that Man will still be alive? What about cultural references? Down south, up north near H'va'd, or maybe out west where the coyotes play? How about in Europe, or whatever?

And then there's props or objects. The key to this is purposeful placement, making sure that every object counts or has significance. Rosenfeld suggests thinking about it as a diorama -- all you want are the essentials that are representative in your scenes. Props that bring the scene to life! But be careful, because readers tend to think that every object you mention has significance. Especially the more loving the description and details, the more likely they are to think that it must mean something. And you really don't want too many Maltese Falcons wandering around through your scenes. Some of the possibilities for things you want to include might be mood objects, showing how the narrator feels about things. Significant objects, actually call attention to themselves. These may be plot significant -- the evidence, magic rings, dogs that don't bark, or whatever -- that actually change or influence the plot. Sometimes people are looking for it, sometimes they pop up by themselves, but in one way or another they make the plot go. There are also character significant objects -- things that have sentimental or emotional meaning, lucky pieces, and so forth. You need to make sure that the reader understands how the character feels about the object. You don't need to describe the object so much, but you do need to make sure that the relationship of the character and the object is crystal clear.

One very important point about objects is to describe them in the kind of detail that your character uses. Maybe he or she drives a jalopy, but they're more likely to drive a 1955 Camino Royale (I'm not sure if that's a real car or not, but you get the idea -- not a vehicle, but a specific one!). Avoid generics, or vagueness. Stick with specifics. "Remember that great characters and the wild plot actions they undertake need solid ground and meaningful props to support them. Always ask, what needs to be seen in this scene?"

One of the dangers of setting is that you can end up with too much narrative summary. Describing the setting is the easy and even fun, but it's there to create authenticity and ground the reader for the story. It should be a background, not upstaging the characters and plot! To help you keep the balance, think about:
  • setting helps create mood or ambience as a tone for the scene
  • your protagonist needs to interact with the setting
  • the setting needs to support your plot
  • small actions help break up setting description
The last but far from least, once you've established the place, put the props in, and you've got the characters and action going, stay consistent. Moviemakers have someone whose job is to watch continuity. Make sure that the flowers at the beginning of the scene don't turn into cactus somewhere along the way. Make little diagrams of the rooms, or even of the characters as they move around. One way or another, check to make sure that your props don't appear and disappear or strangely morph into something different.

So that's where Rosenfeld starts looking at the ingredients in the scenic mix -- with the setting. I suppose in a sense, that's the cauldron that we're going to cook in (although I'm probably pushing the metaphor a bit far with that :-) In any case, we need to know where this scene is taking place, and what kind of props are occupying the stage. Or if you like, what pieces did you put into the diorama where your story will take place?

Assignment? Take a scene, any scene -- well, one from a story you like, or one from a story you are working on. Then pull out the pieces. What is the setting for this scene? How does the writer establish the geographical location, the nature or buildings where it takes place? What about the props? How do they get worked in, and what do they tell us about the plot or characters? What is the function of the setting and props in this scene -- and how well do you think they work? Suppose you want to add one more prop or take one away -- what would it be and why? How does that change the scene? What about moving the scene from over there to yonder -- what would happen?

When we write, we let other people see a setting.
[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
Original posting 7 April 2008

Keep It Real by Lynn Flewelling in Writers Digest Nov. 2004, pg. 56-57.

"Make your readers believe that the fantasy world you've created actually exists by researching your setting."

You might not think of realism as an ingredient in fantasy, or in general fiction, but Lynn argues that a good setting helps readers suspend their disbelief and dive in. So to engage and entrance readers with an alternate world of dazzling wonders, you start by convincing them with a plausible, lively, internally consistent backdrop.

"Setting is the bedrock of your story." So get the facts right. Now if you are making up a world from whole cloth, you need to have at least a nodding acquaintance with weather basics, towns, trade routes, cultures, etc. Or you could model it on the one world we know well, but then you're back to checking out details in reality.

In either case, "the real world is the fantasy writer's scrapbook." [and I venture to say for any fiction writer!] Real history, geography customs and religions are great sources for guidance and inspiration. Do your homework -- go places, use the internet and other tools to dig, or use your locale, since you know it well. Even there, take a good hard look, and you may surprise people with the raccoon that lives in the local park. And when you can, add to the sensory palate with some experience. Try a little bit here and there. Pick up and swing that maul that the plumber uses. Try out some foods. Scribble or jot notes about it, too, so you can remember what that red ant tasted like, or what looking in a lion's mouth makes you feel. (Did it really smell like that?)

Some cautions. Beware anachronisms and inaccuracies. The historical setting crumbles when dialogue uses modern slang, or horses, guns, and so forth just keep going and going. Also, while you as writer need to know all the background details, most of that should not show up on your page. No info dumps -- long dissertations on how something works. Think of details as the spice of the story, not the meat and potatoes. Watch for emphasis -- if you spend a total time describing something the reader expects it will be important to the story. Make sure to use the antique mallet that you lovingly described, or the reader will hit you with it

Finally, especially in fantasy, beware the "oh, wow" details. These glaringly unusual elements are usually added hoping to get readers to think that the setting is exotic. However, the usual response to pink trees or other oddities that aren't integral parts of the setting is to throw the reader out of the story because they're trying to figure out how that could work.

So, when you're working on your setting, you need to get the facts. Do the research. And watch for inconsistencies such as anachronisms and inaccuracies. Avoid dumping loads of information, strive for the finely selected detail rather than the raw quantity. Anything you spend time on needs to play an active role in the story. And don't tease the readers with exotic frills unless they are a legitimate part of the setting. Glued on scenery falls off too easily.

'saright?

When we write, we let others imagine.
[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
Original posting 26 February 2008

(I think the shrimp, or maybe those little red eggs. Worms work pretty good, too? Oh, you don't want fishy readers, you want them warm and comfy? Does that mean you won't be using the good lines?)

How do you get the reader to start reading? There are many recommendations to hook the reader, but what does that mean?

Nanny Kress, in a column entitled Your Opening Quest in Writer's Digest, Jan. 2005, pp. 20-22, talks about ways to create compelling openings. Ways to set that hook, to raise questions and suggest change is coming.

First, try out-of-the-ordinary. "The easiest way to raise a question in the reader's mind is by opening with an action that's clearly a change from the normal or expected." Start with action, and make sure:
1. The action suggests that a change has just occurred or is about to happen in the character's life
2. The action makes the reader wonder why it is happening, what the character will do next, or what the consequences will be
Second, hook the reader with provocative details about characters or setting that suggest change is upon us. Make sure the details:
1. Are very specific
2. Promise conflict to come
3. Indicate a change from the norm - something special - for this place and characters
4. Make readers try to figure out what's going on, and then keep reading to find out if they guessed right
Third, try starting with a grand sweeping statement of universal truths or assumptions. This used to be popular, and it still grabs the attention and raises questions about the story to follow. Some suggestions if you want to try this:
1. A bit of humor helps, because modern readers are likely to see such grand statements as a bit pompous
2. Quickly get down to specifics and action.
3. Make sure the opening raises questions that will absorb the reader
"Questions that require answers are what keep readers going -- and the place to start raising those questions is with your very first sentence."

So, take a look at a few stories that you really like, and see how they get started. Then try putting that same hook-and-jerk into the starting lines for one of your own stories. Polishing that beginning - once you get the reader going, they'll come along for the ride, but if you don't snag them at the start, they aren't likely to see the rest?

When we write, we learn about ourselves.
[identity profile] mbarker.livejournal.com
Original posting: Sat, 17 Sep 1994 18:35:03 JST

I thought someone asked about using the term "old" to describe a character, but having reached the point where I want to respond, I can't find the message.

Oh, well. I think the question was whether or not there was a problem with using this term. (I'll refer to "old man" in the following, but the same kind of problems do occur for old women, too...please adjust to suit your gender biases, okay?)

Offhand (which means I'm making this up as I go along, so bear with me--no points for explaining how confused I am!) it seems as if there are several problems with such terms. First, since age is relative, an "old man" to a college student might be anyone over 30. More mature readers might peg the same "old man" as someone farther advanced in years. If the relative age of the person is significant to the story, it may very well be better to pin it down more precisely, and perhaps add a bit more characterization at the same time.

e.g. "She could see he was old, since he was studying the calculus book for a college sophomore. She held her breath as she spilled her milk on the table so she would have a reason to talk to him." or "He had been old for the last 20 years, ever since the draft board sent him to Vietnam." or maybe "He remembered the Great Depression in the 1930's because his father had jumped into Time Square from a skyscraper, and a twelve-year old boy had suddenly become the family breadwinner at a time when no one had bread. The television news about 'hard times' made him snort." or something--I know you can do better!

Second, such generic terms sometimes are just fillers, and may be surprising when something clears up the misconceptions they suggest. E.g., if I read that so-and-so is old, I think of someone over retirement age (at least--that's about 20 years ahead of me!) When I suddenly realize that the narrator is a high school girl looking at the "over-the-hill" college youths...I have a momentary queasiness as I readjust. It's not nice to fool your reader!

Third, old relative to who? As a writer, you want to draw your reader in to "passive participation" in the POV--the narrator (at least) is me! And since you want your readers to be drawn from every age group, "old" isn't terribly helpful. I (teenie-bopper reader) see this "old" crone mentioned, and know it's really someone about 25! I (retiree enjoying the sunshine in Acapulco) see the "old" person mentioned, and know it's someone in their 90's on full life-support in a hospital, not someone my age!

What characteristics are really important to the story, to the people, to what you are trying to do? Admittedly, age often is significant, but not always. If the age of the person doesn't do anything except identify them, it may be time to think about just what they are doing in the story, and what really identifies them.

The word "old" in itself isn't a problem for me. The notion that this might be the complete description is--does age (especially such a relatively vague indication!) really provide a good, sharp, memorable characterization which does what is needed in the story? Or are there a few more specific bits and pieces you can use to really make the "old man" stand out? Tell me about the sharp smell of the hospital soap he showers with every morning, or the way he peers at the headlines--and mistakes even that large print. Perhaps describe the quivering, slow descent into a chair, with a whoosh of breath released when he has safely avoided the dangers of this complex maneuver.

Or perhaps you didn't really mean an "old" man--just someone in the prime of their life? Hair receding, stomach slowly protruding, once-stylish clothes on their second or third approach to being current...

Hope this helps. Generally, relative adjectives such as "old" seem deceptive to me--they don't provide a very firm description if it is needed, and they are irritatingly likely to be mistaken if they aren't needed.

Try specifics instead. Resist the urge to explain what the specifics mean--just let your characters tell us about what they've seen and heard and felt, I'll figure out just how old or young they are relative to me, the reader...

[we'll pass lightly over the question of what family of oxymoronic delights the commandment "try specifics" belongs in--the paradoxes of high level abstractions are so much fun...]

ye witchdoctor--here, have a sip from the fountain that Poncie was looking for. Now, how old do I look? Really, you can tell me...

probably muddied the waters completely, huh?

(WHAT? I'm not that old!)
tink

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