The Place For My Writers Notes

Original Posting Sept. 18, 2015

You mean a story can be short-sheeted? Oh, wait, no... these are templates for drawing up short stories! Okay...

Over here

http://madgeniusclub.com/2015/09/09/short-story-cheat-sheets/

Sarah explains why she dallied with short stories once up on a time (you should read all about it!) and includes the Cheat Sheet. Here it is, in case you missed it:

Title

1. Setting (this includes time and future history if needed) It sets the stage for the conflict.

2. Story Characters

3. Problem or goal

4. Complications

5. Turning point/black moment (often also called mirror moment, when your character realizes he’s been pursuing the wrong goal or the right goal in entirely the wrong way.)

6. Resolution

She also tossed in a couple examples, from story plans that she's not planning to use. You might find those useful if you're wondering just what a story plan using this cheat sheet might look like.

So... the assignment for us, I guess, is to take that Cheat Sheet and try outlining a short story (or four or five!). Then, of course, write it!

Original posting 7 Nov 2010

This will take a little explaining, but I glanced at this posting http://madgeniusclub.blogspot.com/2010/11/sweet-emotion-entertain-and-move-your.html and got intrigued enough to at least look at the links. Good stuff, and in fact, I'm going to talk about what is called motivation-reaction units (MRUs) in one of them. Specifically, over here http://www.advancedfictionwriting.com/art/scene.php Randy Ingermanson talks about these (although he says he got them from Dwight Swain, and kept the name because it is so ridiculous). It's kind of a basic approach to writing narratives with a POV character.

See, the idea is that first you have a short bit of action -- something happens! External, objective, just the facts. A tree falls, the door opens, something happens. So you write that little bit. That's the motivation.

Then, in a new paragraph (or perhaps a sequence of paragraphs), you have the internal, subjective reaction by the POV character. In particular, you may have three parts, and they must be in this order. First, the character may have some instant feelings -- fear, anger, whatever. Then, second, there are some reflex reactions, such as jerking back, jumping, and so on. Finally, third, the POV character gets around to rational action and speech.

And Randy suggests making a discipline of writing your story that way. One bit of objective stuff, followed by a chunk of reaction, and repeat. Step-by-step. Put a series of these together, and build a scene.

Which is the other part of his and Jim Butcher's piece at http://jimbutcher.livejournal.com/2880.html of course. Randy suggests that we build our large-scale scenes using two parts, too. The scene is more external, built out of a goal that the POV character wants to achieve, obstacles that get in the way, and ending in a disaster, a failure for the character.

Which kicks off a sequel, looking at the reaction, the emotional result of the disaster. Followed by trying to figure out what to do now, laying out the dilemma of choices, and ending in a decision, a choice to push ahead -- which takes us to the next scene. Jim Butcher chops up the sequel a bit differently, starting with the same emotional reaction and ending with a choice, but putting two steps in the middle. First is review, logic, reason trying to understand what happened. Then comes anticipation, trying to see what is ahead. But they're both walking us through the internal reactions of the POV character.

And again, as with MRUs, you get this cycle, or layering, with one external chunk, then an internal one, and repeat.

Interesting. I'm not sure about grabbing new writing tools in the middle of the nanowrimo whirl, but it's worth a little thought. Especially that MRU micro-structure. Write an objective paragraph, external action. Then fill in the emotional reaction, the instinctive reaction, and the final rational words and actions. And repeat. Again and again!

Let's see. The aged nanowrimo note over here http://community.livejournal.com/writercises/142259.html was based on an artist who had found that simply turning a picture upside down helped novice artists to draw better, because it forced them to really look at the picture instead of their expectations. And I raised the question of what would convince us to really look and think about the subjects of our writing, so that we could show the reader what is really there instead of simple pre-conceived ideas. In some ways, writing using something like the MRU structure might be that kind of breaker, because filling in the four parts (what's the objective motivation? What's the immediate emotional reaction? What's the instinctive reflex reaction? And what are the rational thoughts, speech, and action at the end?) forces us to think carefully about each step in the story.

I think I see Cape Horn off to the side, or perhaps it's the Cape of Good Hope? Anyway, time to reef some sails and turn this ship. Anyone see a star to steer her by?

Write!

Original posting 27 February 2010

Let's see. Over here at the Mad Genius Club, writers division, there's some discussion about how to start a story.

http://madgeniusclub.blogspot.com/2010/02/cheat-post-beginnings.html

In medias res -- in the middle of the action, a problem, a question, a conflict? Maybe a name, setting, cognitive dissonance? Establish a goal, create an emotional connection? What about a concrete, immediate desire that is threatened? Go where it hurts?

And over here, http://www.fmwriters.com/Visionback/Issue27/writinghooks.htm we have a warning against crooks -- a hook that lies. When you use conflict, excitement, suspense... but you set up a false expectation of what the story is going to be, that's a crook. And when the reader notices that you're not delivering on that sparkling bait, they'll throw your story against the wall and you probably won't be able to get them to read another one. And there's a discussion of using your people, plot, setting, or style -- the thing that sets your story apart -- to help find a hook.

What about ARCS? This is a model of motivation, that I often find useful. Attention, relevance, confidence, and satisfaction. Give people that, and they're motivated to try new things, to do something you want them to do, etc.

So a hook needs something to get their attention -- that cognitive dissonance, the dead fish on the coffee table, the bullet hole in the windshield, something that stands out and makes you curious. That certainly seems to be a piece of the hook.

Relevance. This is probably where the point of view character comes in, because we want to empathize with them. Make us feel like this is someone we can relate to, who has problems that we can relate to, abilities that maybe we don't have but we wish we had, and so forth. Or maybe sometimes the relevance comes from this is a setting that I know, or this is a problem that I know, or even this is something I wish I knew about? Anyway, in that little beginning, try to show the reader how this story, these characters, their problems are relevant to the reader.

Confidence. I suppose the key here is the genres. I feel pretty confident about reading mysteries, science fiction, and some others because I know how those stories go, I know how to read them and I enjoy them. But if the story starts out telling me that it is going to be a pastoral romance, for example, or a high-tension thriller with gangland killings everywhere... I am likely to set the story aside. There will be those who read it, but it's not my kind of story. Or if I can't tell what kind of a story it is, then I start to get itchy. So again, the hook needs to quickly establish what kind of a story it is. Setting expectations...

Which leads us to satisfaction. The beginning of the story makes a contract with the reader, it promises certain kinds of payoff. Admittedly, the beginning typically doesn't provide much of the satisfaction -- that's more for the climax. But the hook tells us what we might expect. Am I going to see a romantic pairing and a happily ever after, the bad guys punished and good triumphant, a mystery resolved? What do I think I'm going to find out when I read this book? That question or problem or situation needs to be something that will satisfy me, and then I look for the resolution to complete the satisfaction.

Hooks. How do you get the reader involved, right from the beginning? What are the pieces that you have to have there?

It's a puzzle! So how do you develop your hooks?

Original posting 19 January 2009

Making the Bad Guy Human

Writers Digest, August 2005, pages 20 and 21, in the Fiction Essentials column by James Scott Bell, discusses the need to make the antagonist -- the villain -- a real person.

"Fiction readers thrive on danger. They want to see your protagonist challenged, threatened or uneasy. Sure, there's pleasure in vivid prose. But sooner or later (preferably, sooner) your protagonist must be opposed, or the story starts to drag." And, of course, most opposition comes from bad guys -- strong opponents. Sometimes the opposition is simply through competition, or through some difference of opinion. But in most cases, the opposition is someone "who operates from a negative set of values." A guy in a black hat -- but you need to make him a well-rounded, realistic character.

1. What makes bad guys run? Don't just blame it on the evil. Get to know your bad guy, including whatever is positive. And in particular, what drives them. "A bad guy ought to be competent. He gets results. If he doesn't, he's not threatening." Think about how many real villains have a certain charm to them, and how that adds to the horror.
2. The Sympathy Factor. Bell quotes Dean Koontz, "the best villains are those that evoke pity and sometimes even genuine sympathy as well as terror." Bell suggests thinking through your villain's life this way. First, think about what they look like. It's okay if this is a stereotyped person. Second, think about their objective. What is it that they are trying to do or achieve that brings them into conflict with the main character? Remember that from their point of view, they are the hero of their story. Third, dig into their motivation. Why do they want this? Why are they obsessed with it? What is pushing, driving, exciting and tempting them? Fourth, think about a sympathetic background for your villain. Bell likes to use a major turning point in their childhood, a powerful secret that can be revealed late in the story. Perhaps the key here is that you need to know your villain deeply.
3. Digging deeper. Still not quite sure you know who this villain is? Try these questions to help you understand the opposition:

• What are his talents? How do these talents help him get what he wants?
• What do people like about him? What admirable qualities does he have?
• What do other characters think about him?
• Why are people drawn to him, what fascination does he offer the reader?

Think about making your villain complex and memorable. Not just a mustache-twirling desperado tying heroines onto railroad tracks and pushing the hero towards the edge of the cliff, but a real person who likes their coffee black.

Exercise? Take your work in progress, and identify the opposition. Do you know where they are headed, what drives them, and their background? Will readers understand, even if they can't forgive and forget, why this person opposes your hero? Where can you add some dialogue, some action, or other bits to help the reader see the opposition as a human?

And for the enhanced version -- turn your story over? What if the antagonist were telling the story? Switch the points of view, and tell us what happens when the Big Bad Wolf gets cheated by those nasty little pigs.

Make sure that everyone in your stories is a real person, not just a cardboard puppet being manipulated by the author.

And beer for my horses . . .

Original posting 6 July 2008

TECH: Make a Scene #11: Scene Intentions

So here we go, looking at Make a Scene by Jordan Rosenfeld. This week we're going to look at intentions among the core elements of the scene.

Let's see. Get the setting right, use the senses, develop and motivate characters, mix in some plot, don't forget the subtext, and work that dramatic tension with us wondering just how it's going to come out. And then to avoid wandering aimlessly in your narrative, make sure that the protagonist has a clear intention in every scene, something that they want to accomplish that gives purpose to the scene. Don't just roll the dice and pick one, tie it directly to the significant issues of the plot and your protagonist's back story.

Jordan points out that the intention is a character's plan to take an action or do something. Motivation, on the other hand, is the reasons that explain why the character has these plans. Intentions drive action and consequences, making the scene relevant to the plot and the characters. Intentions build drama and conflict, because as the character pursues the intentions, you as writer make sure that it is opposed, thwarted, grows in desirability, and perhaps -- at the end of the story -- allow the character to achieve it or a reasonable facsimile along with whatever satisfaction may result.

As you start to write a scene, you need to consider what the protagonist wants, needs, and intends to do. Consider the following questions:

1. What are the most immediate desires of the character?
2. When will your characters achieve their intention or meet with opposition? Intention that meets with complications builds drama and suspense. Don't let your characters achieve things too quickly or too easily.
3. Does the scene intention makes sense for your plot? Beware of tangents and side paths (do we know anyone who would be so easily distracted? :-)
4. Who will help your characters achieve their goal? Who will oppose them? Decide how the characters and conditions support or thwart your protagonist's intentions, and make sure there is enough resistance to the scene to avoid achieving intentions too soon or delaying them beyond the realistic.

Jordan recommends thinking about intentions in two ways, as plot based and as scene specific.

Plot-Based Intentions

The first imperative for every character in every scene should tie back in some way to the significant situation of the plot. This helps to tie the scenes together. The intention is a course of action that your character plans to take or needs to take in the scene because of the significant situation -- and the consequences of actions.

Scene-Specific Intentions

Along with the grand intentions related to the plot that push the character, there are often more immediate scene-based intentions. These are often tied to consequences -- after the car blows up, characters need to hide. They may want to run down the main street, but with the sniper busily picking people off, ducking into the sewers is a much more reasonable reaction. And so forth.

Opposition to the Intention

But with the character's plan established and starting to go into action in the scene, opposition rears its head. Opposition builds tension, keeps the sense of urgency alive, delays achievement, and raises... dramatic tension. Jordan lists four major ways to oppose intentions:

1. Prevent the completion of the intention. Direct intervention, unexpected storms, accidents -- lots of things can get in the way, and do.
2. Throw in a twist. The protagonist learns that what he intended to do is impossible, illegal, wrong, or otherwise risky. That is the protagonist go ahead anyway, give up, or try something different?
3. Complicate the intention. The protagonist often sets out with one intention in mind, but then circumstances, information, or something else intervenes and adds additional bits and pieces to the course of action. You can't just kill the bad guy, you have to find out where the hostages are.
4. Create a new intention. When the original intention is thwarted, complicated, or twisted, the protagonist may need to change course and figure out a new intention.

Support for the Intention

Allies, assistance, the odd bit of information -- now and then your protagonist will receive some support. "Protagonists need friends and supporters, small acts of kindness, insights and clues that lead them on in their journeys."

So that's Chapter 11, the last of the core elements for scenes. There are the grand or strategic intentions driven by the plot that push the protagonist and the narrative. There are scene-specific intentions, the tactical reactions to consequences within the various scenes. And there's the opposition that builds the tension and drama by keeping your character from simply deciding to do something and doing it. For stories, characters want to do things -- and other people, the world, even their own nature instantly get in the way and keep them from simple achievement. Or to put it another way, because of the resistance, achieving their goal is heroic.

The next big chunk of the book talks about various specific types of scenes. The first scene, the suspense scene, dramatic scenes, contemplative scenes, dialogue scenes, action scenes, flashback scenes, climactic scenes, and final scenes. So you can lay out your scenic smorgasbord and feast, I guess?

Today's assignment? As usual, take a scene from a book or a scene that you've been working on. Now consider the protagonist. What is their intention in this scene? What do they want to achieve or do? Is it tied back to the original plot, or is it a reaction to some of the consequences at this point? What or who opposes them? What support do they get? Now consider whether there are ways to sharpen their intentions? Is there another intention, plot-based or scene-based, that you should include in this scene? Are the motivations pushing their intentions clear and sharp? Do you want to adjust the opposition? Take a look at this scene in terms of the intentions of the characters, and how you might tweak those.

Write? Sounds like a plan to me.

To achieve the impossible dream, follow the improbable path! And keep going.

Originally posted 11 June 2007

I'm slowly working my way through Plot & Structure by James Scott Bell. Right now I'm on page 8, with a section about the power of story. This is where Bell talks about "telling a story in a way that transports the reader." Let's face it, most readers want to get away from their world. They want an experience that is different than their normal day-to-day routine. Or as Bell puts it, "what the reader seeks is an experience that is other." A story gives the illusion of a different side of life events. And we want conflict, story, experience. The plot is a structure that helps readers get into the fictional dream and stay there. Okay? I don't think we need to pound this little two page section to pieces, but it is important to think about it.

Bell says we'll be going over it again, but his basic approach to plot is called the LOCK. Lead, Objective, Confrontation, and Knockout. Simple, right? Just four letters to remember to get a lock on your plots!

L is for Lead. I am pretty sure he means lead character, not lead pencils. So a strong plot needs an interesting lead character. "In the best plots, that Lead is compelling, someone we have to watch throughout the course of the novel." Not necessarily sympathetic, but someone that we want to watch. Okay? So that's our Lead, the L in our LOCK.

O  is for Objective. Where is the character going? He needs an objective, a want, a desire. Normally the character either wants to get something or get away from something. The story question is pretty simple -- will the lead achieve their objective? Note: the objective needs to be important to the lead. So now we have LO in LOCK, our Lead and their Objective.

C is for Confrontation. Opposition, obstacles, something gets in the way. Make it tough for the lead to get to their objective. Confrontation! That's the LOC in LOCK - a Lead with their Objective and the Confrontations on the way.

Last, but obviously not least, K is for Knockout. What Bell is talking about here is the ending. A clean finish, with one person standing and the other knocked out. It shouldn't be obvious, necessarily, but it should have a real knockout finale that makes the reader satisfied. Send the lead over the top, let them find a hundred yellow ribbons round the old oak tree,  blow the bad guys into little balls of juicy hamburger, whatever, but don't wimp on the ending.

And that, in a nutshell, is Bell's basics. A Lead, with an Objective, who faces Confrontations, and has a Knockout ending. LOCK that up and write!

Page 13? And there's over 200 in the book. We are going to be reading a while, aren't we?

Original posting: Wed, 2 Feb 1994 01:30:03 JST

[lots of new critters in the pond (HI!), but I still want to kick this around... forgive me for not quoting everyone, but I thought I'd just summarize and go bravely where I hadn't rambled before...]

Does the Reader know the Writer?

I think that's sort of the topic we're wandering around.

Okay, let me reiterate what I think was the original question - how important is knowledge of the writer's situation to judging the work? (e.g. does the fact that the anne frank of bosnia is writing in bosnia, and is 13 or something, alter the value of the work?)

randy and stuart have gone wandering a bit, bringing up the questions of shared background, internal meanings vs external words, and so forth.

Tsirbas Christos also added some interesting comments on the notion of categorizing writers by their nationality (or other group membership - I'd never really thought about it, but that "area authors" corner in some bookstores really is a rather nasty ghetto to be stuck in, isn't it?)

[Hi, Tsirbas! thanks for joining in...]

good stuff, one and all...

Let me drop a few more pebbles in the rather muddy waters we're treading about the writer, the words, and the reader.

Interesting - especially if I stop and think about something like Shakespeare's work, or Gawain and the Green Knight, where I need commentary just to have a chance of figuring out some of the social and historic references. Take a gander at the original 1000 nights and a night, without reading the footnotes? very difficult.

I suppose the negative case of Japanese writings where you don't even understand the language doesn't clarify much...

Consider, though, reading something like the original Robinson Crusoe or Swiss Family Robinson (not the kid's versions - the old monsters). Stylistic barbarisms, with an overlay of socially accepted trash (the White Man's Burden, don't you know!).

Or take Tarzan, Lord Greystoke - in the original, with the whole wonderful mixture of "British supremacy" with "the natural man." It's enough to make almost any modern reader feel uncomfortable...

Heck, pull the author and cover off one of the "golden age" space operas (E.E. Smith) and try to convince a modern reader to read it.

It does seem as though the effect (and affect) of a piece of writing in part depends on how similar the background is. At the same time, I think the detailed knowledge of the author's personal history, while sometimes adding some depth or understanding to a piece, really should not be required to understand and enjoy the piece.

Let me switch fields for a sec - Picasso's Guernica (sp?). Disturbing, almost tortured piece of art. I didn't care for it, then someone told me there was a war there... and suddenly the piece started making sense. Now, that little piece of information helped me connect the pattern of thoughts and make a whole out of it.

An interesting question for some kind of theoretician might be what information needs to be added to "set the stage" for understanding a writer's work. Actually, it may not be so theoretical - when you bring a book (or short story, etc.) from America to Japan, for example, there are some severe limits on the "common background" you can expect.

It seems as if there is a kind of continuum here, from the writer and reader having largely common background and knowledge (which allows them to communicate with the least words and should tend to limit misunderstandings) to cases where writer and reader share very little. It might be interesting to compare different readers - could we say that the writer who manages to convey roughly the same message to a statistically larger percentage of the readers is more "effective"? What then becomes of a Bach (or maybe a James Joyce?) whose messages are so bloody complex that most readers don't follow it even when it is simplified and laid out in great detail? (I was thinking of Johann Sebastian, incidentally - the musician).

What about a Marshall McLuhan? I have one of his early books - Mass Communication Theory? something like that. and found it absolutely inspiring, although I could only read about one paragraph a day! DENSE! Then he became popular, and started doing 15 minute books with practically no content - comic books for adults? To me, his later work is eminently discardable, even though it reached a much larger audience.

Hum - complex questions, which probably have complex answers.

BTW - I've seen a write up of someone who took several pieces by well-known authors, polished the names off, then tried submitting them under an unknown name. Rather amusing collection of rejections, editorial slams, and so forth...

Would it make any sense to say that while the names, situation, and so forth are likely to have a high level of influence in our reading of "current" material, these factors are likely to change over time, resulting in rather different evaluation of the writing? E.g., while a piece from the 60's calling for popular support of the Vietnam war might have been a winner at the time, dragging it out now is likely to be a problem.

you know, there is something in here that reminds me of the rather well-known comedy bit, where the young man is excited over the voice on the phone... and then we learn that this exciting voice belongs to a well-worn, rather overstuffed mother of whiny little brats...

does it really matter what the writer is like, or where, or when? if the words ring, the images live, I can't see it being important whether Hemingway was homosexual, impotent, or even a lush. I think I agree with Randy - once the writer "lets go" of the words, the whole business turns into one between the reader(s) and those words. Admittedly, the writer should do the best they can to form and mold those words for the audience they expect - but if the readers find pornographic imagery underlying it that the writer never thought of, that is just as accurate as the writer's vision...

(further ramblings as soon as I find the other file I started on the same topic. sometimes the mental filer misfires. :-)