Eggs, Milk and a Keyboard: Ingredients Needed To Write for a Food Review

By Kimberly Johnson

I’ll admit it…I’m a foodie. I watch the culinary shows (even, The Chew). I download the instructional videos. I will spend my next-to-last-dollar on a cookbook.

Last Sunday, I perused the aisles of a local mega bookstore and ooh’d and ah’d over Lidia and Ming. And just before I got hungry, I forked over the cash for Jamie’s Kitchen (Jamie Oliver) and Paula Deen’s Southern Cooking Bible.

At home, my kitchen turned into a full production set that would rival the one on Food Network. I tried out Paula’s Tomato Pie recipe. The ingredients were simple: four tomatoes, basil leaves, mozzarella, cheddar cheese, and mayonnaise, to name a few. The tools of the trade were modest: a deep dish pan, a grater and the oven. In Paula’s original recipe, she combined grated mozzarella, cheddar cheese and mayonnaise. I substituted plain yogurt for the mayonnaise. The result was a tasty treat that I may fix for brunch. Suddenly, I realized that I am good at cooking, eating and writing. But, I wasn’t sure about selling my two cents to an audience. So I hopped on the Internet to discover ways to write a cookbook review.

The experts offered this advice for the beginner reviewer:

#1: Select two or three recipes from your favorite cookbook and sample them. This way, you can get a feel on the author’s cooking style to write a comprehensive assessment. I cheated. I tried just one: Not Yo’ Mama’s Banana Pudding from Paula’s Just Desserts book.

#2: Explain why the book is unique. That’s what Garrett McCord (blogger with Food Blog Alliance) does with his entries. “For example, how does the author explain the use of ingredients in baking better than other authors? By setting the author and subject apart from the overcrowded world of food literature you detail their importance.”

#2: Discuss the author’s flair, presentation and photo arrangement. Let the reader discover the best (or worse) part of the book and don’t give away too much information.

#3: Identify the format. Be sure to include the title, author, and the general theme of the cookbook. Comment on the quality of the photos.

#4: Summarize your impression of the recipes and cooking style of the author. Set a rating system.

Writing a cookbook review seems like hard work. I’m going put my keyboard and taste buds to the grindstone. And hopefully, I can get someone else to spend his or her next-to-last-dollar on Paula Deen.

Sources: www.ehow.com, www.foodbloggersofcanada.com, www.foodblogalliance.com

Werewolves, Cinnamon Bun Pirates, and Other Ghosts of My Writing Past

By Amanda Simays

My parents are moving out of the house they’ve lived in for twenty years. Which of my belongings do I discard, and which do I make them lug to their new house and store for me until God knows when? My attempts to weed out parts of my childhood bedroom over Christmas taught me a lot about my priorities. Stuffed animals, summer camp t-shirts, graduation paraphernalia? Toss without a backward glance. But my packrat tendencies kicked in when it came to really valuable stuff like old American Girl magazines, my collection of 1967 World Book encyclopedias…and anything I’ve written.

I hang onto almost all of my writing, whether it’s in a notebook or a computer file. Partly because it represents a lot of hard work, but mostly because (to use a cliché), I’m scared to throw out the baby with the bathwater. What if, buried deep in the piles of writing rubbish, there’s a character, a line of dialogue, or even a phrase I might want to use someday?

During the creation of a 150-page novel I wrote when I was about fourteen, I also ended up with an 80-page rival document of deleted scenes. Most of the writing there I can’t see using in the future at all. There is, for instance, a long, digressive subplot about a pirate who’s so obsessed with eating cinnamon buns that even his name, Nubni Mannic, is “cinnamon bun” spelled backwards…and incorrectly. But the description of a character who has “greasy hair the color of a banana bruise?" Hmmm…worth hanging onto…just in case.

Even earlier in my past, my brother approached me with a request to write him a werewolf story, and his instructions were to “make it as scary as possible.” So I did, and it was very scary. You can tell how scary this story is right from the subtle opening:

Hi! My name is Billy. I’d like to tell you something. It all began four years ago when I was eight. One day I was packing for my camping trip with my mom and dad in the mountains. My family just got a new van and station wagon.

We were done packing and we were ready to hit the road. On our way we saw some blood on the road and some dead peoples heads. We saw some signs that said “DANGER."

The story just goes downhill from there, degenerating into a thousand-word gore fest. My brother and I read the story out loud to our dad, expecting him to shiver with fright and proclaim it a masterpiece of suspense. Instead, he was completely disgusted and gave me strict instructions to delete that story and never show anybody.

But I didn’t, and years later, I’m glad I kept it. At the very least, hanging onto very bad writing gives me reassurance of how far I’ve come in the course of my writing life…or lets me have a good laugh at myself.

Good Versus Evil

By Michelle Gwynn Jones

Not all novels require the presence of a villain, but a story can’t have a hero unless there is someone, or something, to overcome. When a story requires a villain, that character needs to be believable.

Villains vary in size, class and sexual preference. In any group of people, from a kindergarten class to a gathering of world leaders, there are the good and the evil.

If the protagonist and the antagonist are the two main characters they need to be equally represented. A villain should have a well thought out reason for why they do what they do or want what they want. Depending on the type of story the villain might need friends or minions. The job and lifestyle the writer chooses should enhance the character, not hold them back. If the reader is to follow the path of the villain, the character must have a few good qualities, no one is going to believe a person who is all good or all evil. Even the bomber running around the city blowing up buildings without any discernible pattern should still stop to open the door for an elderly neighbor and help carry the packages to their apartment.

Just as with the good main character, your villain must have a backstory. Many readers have trouble believing that the villain was just born evil. The backstory should reveal a traumatic incident that turns them from good to evil, like when Anakin Skywalker revenges his mother Shmi’s death by killing all the Tusken Raiders and taking his first step from Jedi apprentice to becoming Darth Vader. That incident should logically bring the character to where they are today, even if only logical to someone with evil in their mind and heart.

Keep in mind the setting and the goals of the main character and the villain. The hero’s response to the villain must be proportional to the threat. If the villain is an international criminal running his mercenaries for personal gain it may be all right for the main character to kill them off one at a time. However, this may not be true if the story is set in the small town of New Grace, South Carolina when the main character is taking down the evil leader of the Parent Teacher’s Association of the local elementary school. While the protagonist may do evil to succeed in their mission, it is rare for a book to be successful if the protagonist becomes more evil than the villain.

As a writer you can’t let yourself be intimidated by your own villain. If your villain is trying to take over the world, let them plan and scheme, don’t hold back because you can’t understand why anyone would want to do that. When the villain is a serial killer but the writer can’t actually bring themselves to write a murder, or describe a murder scene, the reader will never be convinced the killer is a worthy adversary for the protagonist.

Whether your villain dies or goes to prison, turns good or stays evil, the story must be completed. Even the villain that lives on from one book of the series to the next must be thwarted in their scheme in order to rise again with an even better plan.

Vanquishing the Gila Monsters of Writing: Reflections on Staying in the Moment as I Walk My Dog

By Chris Mathews

What advice on writing can I add to the nebulas already out there. I am just now beginning my own journey as a writer (although I have published a one-act play Gargoyles) and continue on the more important quest to become a better person. What is a writer but a person who has trained himself to be more aware of the world? By learning to live more in the moment, I hope to make my two journeys as a writer and a person coalesce. Maybe my words will help you in some way vanquish that writer’s fear of fears, that Gila Monster of self-doubt-- the blank page.

Staying in the moment, a concept so crucial to theatre is also a technique that any writer must practice. I believe all human beings should learn to live in the moment. For me walking my rat-terrier Little Bro allows me to do this. In fact, I have begun to practice this concept by writing what I call Broems, poems about my moment-to-moment journey with Bro.

I believe all of us in this increasingly complex, technological whirl of a world need to soak up the moment—not allow all our free time to be taken up with thoughts of work. Electronic devices and multi-tasking have only left us with tunnel vision—the inability to see what is really all around us. Tunnel vision is the enemy of good writing and good living because we are locking out our senses—the vital organs of all good writing. I am not proposing that writers don’t need focus, just that they need to be able to take in the present with their senses so that they can keep the reader alive in the moment and not sidetracked outside the world they are creating. Writers and all people should spend time living in the moment.

I manage to do this with varying degrees of success when I take Little Bro for walks. These little jaunts have become for me a time of great discovery and pleasure. In a real sense, I am practicing a skill that I can apply to my writing, which I want to resonate with readers. First, however, I must relearn those ways of perceiving we all had as children.

Here is a “Broem” where I have tried to practice staying in the moment.

Night Clouds

Night clouds envelop the moon
Its swift passing upwards
Dizzying--
Not to my dog
Little Bro.
He doesn’t know,
As he tests the blades of grass
Each one
For forgotten whiffs.
This one smells like chickweed.
This one sassafras
No, maybe not.
He doesn’t know those words
Only the smells which
Circulate through
Celestial chambers
Layers piled upon layers
Of ripeness and rightness.
He pees.
The moon rises
Time goes on.

How to Get an Agent

By Belise Butler

As I retired from my second career and entered a third, I also re-entered the field of writing. I had success in most things I pursued and had experienced life from many points of view; I assumed writing fiction would be a breeze. (Not)

I had written non-fiction manuals for law enforcement, taught classes on bullying in the workplace. A few years back I was voted one of the top speakers for my workshop entitled “Who do You Think You Are.”

I lived and taught in three countries. Surely I could write a novel. Yeah, RIGHT! What an eye-opener.

As a professional speaker I could ‘tell’ stories that would inspire so I started writing. I wrote short stories putting each one in a ‘maybe’ file. Then I threw them all out and wrote a 400-page novel. The novel sold.

However, I must confess my writing did not sell the MS. The content did. I hired a highly recommended editor who read my material and then charged me for an additional two days where she bruised my ego many times over, changed my focus and reduced my bank account greatly.

I want to share her words; maybe they will help someone else.

Most writers believe they have a story that only they can tell and the world will love it. It’s not true. It’s never true. Even an excellent story in the hands of an unprepared and/or unequipped writer will almost never be picked up by an agent; furthermore, few people can write and publish without the help of an excellent editor who KNOWS THE ROPES.

Learn the skill of showing not telling and remove this thought from your brain. ‘If I write it, agents will fight over it.’ Forget the ego, millions of people write, few sell their work. Learn the ABC’s of writing or your MS will never get you an agent.

A. Always understand that what you write about might not have an audience. You may like it …but no one else may. Family and friends won’t tell you the truth.
B. Before you write … learn HOW to write.
C. Cut the crap out and write the REAL story.

Accepting my check, she boldly said: “Your content is unusual and exciting. Your writing needs an overhaul.”

Now I realize that just because I could ‘say things’ which could change lives, I knew nothing about writing fiction. I also realize that a writer doesn’t ‘get an agent.’ New and exciting material that is well presented creates a reason for an ‘agent to get you.’

What’s a Page-Turner?

By John May

When I first started writing a novel a few years back, I attended the Pacific Northwest Writers Conference in Seattle, Washington. The session I remember the most (thanks partially to good notes but mostly to content) was a Panel Discussion involving seven prominent agents and editors who dealt with all types of adult fiction. Someone asked the panel, “What’s THE number one thing that would entice you to represent or publish a fiction novel.” I was surprised when they all agreed they wanted the same thing, no exceptions:

Page-turners-—novels that compel the reader to read.

Naturally, the next question was, “What makes a novel a page-turner?” Here, it got even more surprising. I was certain there would be lots of different answers and that the answers would tend to vary based on category. After all, what works for science fiction can’t possibly work for a literary novel and vice-versa, right? Wrong. After much vigorous brainstorming, the panel came up with one consensus answer they felt applied across all adult fiction types:

In the typical page-turner, the reader experiences a story presented in a competent, suspenseful, and entertaining manner about interesting, strong characters who have important, clear goals and who must overcome significant resistance to their vigorous efforts to achieve those goals.

As part of the process, each of the individual attributes (experiences, story, competent, etc.) in the definition was discussed and defined precisely by the panel. The exact words and definitions are important— alternatives for each word were considered and discarded. For example, the reader is not “told a story,” she “experiences a story presented,” which is a very different animal.

In addition to exact wording, the panel felt strongly that all the many listed attributes should be present, not just a majority. They felt that if even one were missing, the likelihood the book would be a page-turner went down dramatically. And, with each additional missed attribute, come further dramatic drops in page-turner potential.

The above page-turner description was accepted unanimously by the panel but not by the audience. Some of the aspiring literary novelists felt it was “write-by-numbers” and that no one had the right to tell them how to achieve their artistic vision. The panel’s response to this went something like, “You’re correct. No one can tell you how to write. You only have to write this way if you want us to spend the time and money it takes to get you published.” The panel did admit there have been exceptions, but held they were few and far between. The odds of publication success (getting published and selling well) are enormously tilted in favor of the type of page-turner described.

Many of the attribute definitions and their subtle nuances are not self-evident. I’m thinking the next few times I’m up to bat in Blog Town, I’ll go over the definition in detail, discuss what each of the attributes meant to the panel and go over the nuances we discussed. I think there are some surprises here.

Opening Sentences

By Bonnie Stanard

We’ve had the lesson hammered into our heads that the opening of a book has to hook the reader. It’s so important San Jose State University holds the Bulwer-Lytton competition every year to name the worst opening sentence for a possible novel (http://www.bulwer-lytton.com).

According to Brian Klem in Writers Digest* we should also establish tone in the first sentence. His definition of tone goes a long way to explain something that’s hard to describe. He says tone in a book is like a soundtrack in a movie. I can relate to that. The background music is something you’re more likely to notice if it’s bad. When it’s good, you’re too engrossed in the movie to notice it.

As I surfed first sentences of Amazon.com books, I wondered if we could pick out best sellers by their first sentences. I’ve come up with six sentences, three from best sellers. The remaining three are not best sellers. To get them, I searched titles for the word “dark,” which has to be one of the most overworked words in English literature. Surprisingly, the search turned up a number of Stephen King’s books among the 59,500 findings.

Which of the following first sentences are from best sellers? Can you detect a tone? Klem describes tone as the author’s attitude toward his subject, i.e. grave, amused, scientific, intimate, aggrieved, authoritative. I would add angry, laudatory, repelled.

1. “So, you would like to know your future?” the old fortune teller asked.
2. Mae Mobley was born on a early Sunday morning in August, 1960.
3. Under normal circumstances, Charlie Flint would have consumed all the media
coverage of the trial of Philip Carling’s killers.
4. While a late-summer storm bashed against her single skinny window, Lieutenant Eve Dallas wished for murder.
5. Vincent was feeling tired but instantly snapped awake the moment he thought he heard a slight swishing sound against stone.
6. As she gazed out the bay window in her bedroom, Mary McAllister knew this night would be her last.

Finding the winners here is more of an exercise in identifying the losers. I have low expectations of Number 1, which is about as innovative as “It was a dark and stormy night.” Any fault, such as one unnecessary word, signals that the author is careless with words, which is my view of numbers 3 (all) and 5 (which deserves a bad writing award). If I were Number 5’s editor, I’d suggest: "Vincent felt tired but snapped awake when he heard a swishing against stone." Add another negative to Number 3 for opening with an awkward conditional past perfect verb. If you haven’t figured out already, even numbered sentences are best sellers.

And tone? It’s hard to credit these sentences with any tone. What can you tell from the first note of a soundtrack?

Whatever my attitude toward my characters, I try not to judge them. Some of them behave badly, but it’s not up to me to tell the reader they’re scoundrels. Whatever the foibles of our characters, if we care about them, our readers will too. That goes a long way in setting a tone that engages the reader.

Book titles and authors: (1) Dark Tomorrows by J.L. Bryan, A. Hocking; (2) The Help by Kathryn Stockett; (3) Trick of the Dark by Val McDermid; (4) New York to Dallas by J.D. Robb; (5) Storm of Prophecy: Book 1, Dark Awakening by Michael Von Werner, F. Diroma; (6) The Mill River Recluse by Darcie Chan
*7 Ways to Perfect Your Writing “Tone” by Brian Klems, on Writer’s Digest website (http://www.writersdigest.com/whats-new/7-ways-to-perfect-your-writing-tone)

Reality in Fiction

By Shaun McCoy

I'm a writer, and I want you to believe in a pixie. She's about 3.7" tall—though admittedly that's in heels—and she's buzzing through the forest, her little wings beating as fast as a humming bird's, trying like hell to make it home in time for the Laker's game. She's a big fan of Kobe Bryant's.

Do you believe in her? I do.

As readers, it's easy for us to believe in this pixie. In fact, I once believed in Bruenor Battle Hammer, an angry dwarf who's resistant to magic spells. I did, that is, until one day he pretended to be sick in order to convince his best friend to help him on a quest.

What?

I wasn't buying. I almost put down the book. My battle-tested-celtic-faeriefolk-derived-mountain-dwelling-tough-man, playing practical jokes? That was too much. Never mind that his best friend was an elf.

So what is it about stories that can cause readers to call foul? It certainly isn't plausibility. In order to engross a reader fiction does need to be realistic and internally consistent, but how can this be achieved in a story where so much is obviously fiction?

Well, don't forget, the majority of your audience actually believed in Santa Clause. I mean, this shouldn't be too hard. The reader left some of their disbelief at the door. You only really have to fool their inner child. Their adult is already on vacation.

Let's take a look at the earlier lessons a human child learns about reality. If we can satisfy these basic expectations our reader should be able to ride along with us without pulling his suspension of disbelief muscle.

Lesson 1: Object Permanence
According to Piaget (he's a famous psychologist, btw), one of the first things we learn about the universe is Object Permanence. That is, that objects exist even when you're not looking at them. While this understanding may forever ruin your games of peek-a-boo, it's very helpful in finding your car keys. Let's take a look at our Pixie. She's late for a game that is happening where she is not. This makes her tale more believable. Satisfying your reader's unconscious need for object permanence can make your narrative very appealing indeed. It's the new peek-a-boo. Remember that love potion in chapter 11? Peek-a-boo, the Prince is in love!

Lesson 2: The Difference Between ‘I’ and ‘You’
Also according to Piaget (he's still a famous psychologist, btw), the next big step we take towards understanding reality is that the universe is in itself separate from you. That there are other people in that universe who want different things. So many writers talk about character driven stories. Well why are these so compelling? Many of us lean heavier on the knowledge of the Ego than on Object Permanence. Stories that satisfy this particular subconscious need can be more compelling for readers whose reality "lens" is more focused on people. Let's look at our Pixie. She's a Laker's fan. Being a sports fan automatically enacts this I/You principle. By acknowledging that she likes the Lakers, we are also acknowledging that there are other people out there who also like the Celtics (see Philosophical Differences).

She's also not Kobe Bryant. He is the you, and she is the I.

Lesson 3: Philosophical Differences (bonus points)
In Piaget's last developmental stage, we realize that people whom we truly think are evil (democrats or republicans or communists or socialists or capitalists or misandrous pigs) truly believe that they are good people. They actually think that we're evil! If we can see their perspective, we can see that they are often as right about us as we are about them. These philosophies are varied, and not always didactic. I may believe that kinesthetic intelligence is integral to team building. You might not, but we're not likely to have a knock-down drag-out fight about it. This section is optional for a few reasons. Not everyone makes it to this stage, Piaget tells us, so our audience is going to be limited. Also, we left our disbelief at the door, remember. You don't have to fool the adult's sensibilities; they already know its fiction. We just have to have enough to fool the reader's inner child.

POV and All That Stuff

By Alex Raley

Very early in my writing fiction, POV jumped up to challenge me. There was a constant battle between us. There was a story to be told. Who cared from what head it came? Finally, truth began to rule: the reader gets thoroughly confused when many voices try to tell the story. If not a tower, a book of Babel contorts the story. The reader is left to sort out the confusion or to take to the shelves for another book if he doesn’t have an e-book reader. All this can leave the writer a Prisoner of Viewpoint, while being prodded by colleagues to control the POV. Do we give up or find a solution?

Dwight Swain suggests that the purpose of viewpoint is to get the reader into the skin of the character. The reader then sees and feels everything as the character does. This lets the reader become attached to the character. The bond that is established, whether of admiration or revulsion, drives the reader to stay with the story. Many writers are successful in telling the story only through one person’s eyes. This doesn’t mean that there are no other characters in the story, but they exist only as the main character sees, hears and reacts to them. Any interpretation of what is seen and heard from the other characters is in the imagination of the main character and the reader.

For many writers, secondary characters are as important as the main character. That presents a host of possibilities and pitfalls. I began a novel that is still in progress because I realized that the story would make no sense at all unless the reader knew the inner thoughts of several characters. After trying many approaches, I settled on giving each important character a complete chapter, actually several chapters for the two most important characters. One of the problems with this approach is to have a smooth transition from one chapter to another. This became my nemesis. I tried writing transitions which simply added unneeded words. The next try was to pick chapter titles that would indicate the point of view. Some novelists have done this quite well. I zeroed out.

Then I read Tom Franklin’s Crooked Letter, Crooked Letter, a 2010 New York Bestseller and Edgar Award Nominee. Franklin has two main characters. Each character has his chapter at the appropriate times. The chapters are simply numbered. Readers know in whose skin they are by the way Franklin jumps immediately into the chapter with the character in action. What does this say to me? Get in there and make each chapter do its part to tell the story and make each chapter interesting by itself,

The Devil’s in the Details

By Ginny Padgett

I’ve never understood that adage, “The Devil’s in the details.” I think details are important, especially in fiction writing. When an author enters into an unspoken contract with her reader to suspend belief while engaged with her story, she should reciprocate with verifiable details (or in the case of fantasy, consistent details) to transform imagination into reality.

I am reading Scott Turow’s, Burden of Proof. Early on in this long novel, he tells us about a woman who has recently worked in her garden (100 or so miles west of Chicago) in early spring to tidy up the gladiola foliage left behind from last summer’s growth. It ruined the entire story for me because gladiolas totally die back by fall, even here in the much warmer climate of Columbia, SC.

This made me distrust the entire world Turow created, much of which revolves around trading futures on the stock exchanges, resulting grand jury proceedings and the pursuant court case. The plot is framed on the inner workings of financial markets and legal maneuverings, and if I’m going to slog through these specifics, I want them to be accurate.

Turow broke the contract between him and me. I think less of him because he seemed to think I wouldn’t notice that he didn’t do his homework when he added details to develop this character. The growing season of gladiolas is a minor detail in this book of 515 pages, but it was enough for me to reclaim my suspended belief.

I guess that’s how I came to be known as the “detail person” in our critique group. Maybe it’s my training in journalism that makes getting the facts right so important to me, or maybe it’s just my personality. In any case, I think, “Successful fiction writing is in the details.” I challenge you to get them right. Does that make me the Devil?

On the Subject of Nemeses

By Gregory Wyche

As a writer, I have long considered Michael Crichton my nemesis. I first became disillusioned with him around senior year of high school when I decided he was lazy, had improbable characters and cut corners. Case in point: the ending of Sphere. In the novel, these scientists find an alien artifact that endows each of them with the power to manipulate reality with their minds, with generally terrible results. Their unpredictable subconsciousnesses wreak havoc. Okay, that’s an interesting premise. But then, when you’ve finally gotten to the end, Crichton’s resolution is to have the characters use their reality-altering powers to make themselves forget that they have any powers. Uh… okay. Then there is this exchange:

“…We won’t remember anything but this [made up] story.”
“And we won’t have the power any more?” Beth said, frowning.
“No,” Norman said. “Not any more.
“Okay,” Harry said.
Beth seemed to think about it longer, biting her lip. But finally she nodded. “Okay.”

When I was younger, this passage really bothered me and I suspect it was because it seemed so much like a deus ex machina. These characters spend the whole book unable to control their thoughts and now they're going to do it on command?

All these gripes alone aren’t too annoying. Plenty of authors just aren’t good. But Crichton was different. Somewhere in there, I always knew there was a genuine talent. So why then did he try so little, so often? To me, it was disrespectful to the profession, especially considering how well his books sold and how hard it is for new authors to get published, regardless of their skill.

And then I found out he had died of cancer. And it was like I'd swallowed a marble. An old friend brought it up, figuring I’d appreciate the news. But I didn’t. Suddenly, I was forced to confront my long-held prejudices. I had never actually finished State of Fear or Timeline…

Perhaps Norman's certainty in Sphere that his final solution would work was meant to plant the idea of inevitability into his comrades’ subconsciousnesses. Perhaps I had simply missed the point. Perhaps, I needed to reread Andromeda Strain, or Sphere, or Airframe or the Lost World. Perhaps... it didn’t matter anymore.

At the time, this news was particularly resonant because I had fallen into a funk with my own writing and wasn’t really producing anything anymore. Suddenly, I felt like I had no purpose. But most of all, I just felt sad. Crichton obviously had a passion for writing. Sometimes… And now he could never write again.

Since then, I’ve been more tolerant with other authors. After all, they’re only human. As I finish this, I wonder whose ire I’ll inspire with my own idiosyncrasies, and what colleagues I’ll make in the process. I picked up a copy of Prey yesterday and got about a hundred pages into it. It’s pretty good.

Goodbye, Michael Crichton. My friend. My greatest enemy. Rest in peace.

Getting the Setting Right

By Michelle Gwynn Jones

Regardless of the genre of a story, all writers must decide on a setting where it will unfold. Picking a setting is too important to leave to a random dart tossed at a map. In order to be believable, the setting must make sense for the characters and for the story itself. The writer must consider several things in order to choose the setting.

Physical Location: Where on the globe, or in the universe, the story will take place influences who you can write about. If you want your main character to be the Chief of Surgery, on the Board of Directors for the symphony and drive a vintage Jaguar then you need to place your story in a city, not some remote section of the rain forest in South America.

Timing: Setting also refers to the time frame of a story. Although you may write a tale of little green people coming to earth in 400 BC and interacting with the natives, if you want your reader to believe that they were welcomed with open arms and lived happily side by side, the story might be better set after the industrial revolution.

Climate: Often as writers we use weather to indicate the passage of time, “She woke to the sound of rain on the tin roof.” Then later we will say, “The sun warmed her back as she worked in the garden.” But if the climate itself is a necessary element it needs to make sense. If the story is about main characters recovering from the loss of their home due to a hurricane, the story should take place on the coast as opposed to Tulsa, Oklahoma.

As a writer picking the right location for my series of Rachel Shorte Mysteries was a difficult decision. At first I thought a large city would be the best choice, someplace familiar to me. I love New York, grew up there, but it seemed too big for my character. Paris, which to me is New York in French, would be fun but my use of the language can only be described as abuse. Then I thought Miami, lively and colorful. I could drive down for research and Mojitos, but being a tourist I didn’t think I could capture the true feel of its energy. Other cities came to mind, I rejected each for one reason or another.

Finally, I decided on the fictional town of New Grace, a suburb of Columbia, South Carolina. Although it is a combination of a few real towns that surround that city, it has its own attributes. I declared it “The Rhododendron Capital of the World.” Of course, first I made sure no other place held that honor. The main roads through town are all named after trees, such as Oak Boulevard and Maple Street. It has the added benefit of being right outside the state capital so my character can take advantage of The Arts by going to museums and the ballet. I like the freedom that creating the environment gives me. In fact, I like New Grace so much that I have chosen to use it as the locations for almost everything I write, whether or not it is a Rachel Shorte Mystery.

“Bing, I’m a Beast!” and Other Lessons I’ve Learned from my Eighth-Graders

By Amanda Simays

It’s the end of the school year, the time when middle schoolers have to reflect on what they’ve learned, and it always means a lot when my students tell me that I’ve helped them with their writing. It occurred to me that it’s been a two-way street—my kids have also taught me a lot about writing too.


From Ethan (Names have been changed): Get into it

Some of my favorite moments at school have been working with Ethan, because he gets into his writing. Whenever he finishes a paragraph or writes a line he’s particularly proud of, he’ll shout, “Bing, I’m a beast!” and then we’ll high-five and fist-bump.

I love watching the way he can ride on the high of what he’s already written to help himself write some more. It makes me want to apply that to my own efforts. I don’t literally punch the air and yell, “Bing, I’m a beast!”, but there’s something to be said for privately celebrating that moment when you finally get the word you’ve been looking for, or you mentally land on the missing piece in the plot puzzle.

From Crystal: Persevere

Crystal has amazed me with her ability to persevere with her writing. It’s happened often that the bell will ring for her to switch from English to Art, and she’ll choose to give up the fun elective class to stay in the library because she’s on a roll. She’ll sometimes continue pecking away at her essay on the computer for a two-hour stretch. A couple months ago, we collaborated on a contest together, and she uncomplainingly came in every day during recess to write with me.

I think about her a lot on nights when I feel too tired or lazy to write. If a fourteen-year-old can give up recess and her elective class to write school assignments, I should be able to find the motivation to sacrifice my own time for writing too.

Keisha: Share your work

Keisha was bored by her latest five-paragraph theme prompt: “If you could have any wish granted, what would it be and why?” What she really needed was a change in perspective, so I tried to get across to her that a wish could be anything—a job, a vacation, a superpower…

“I could be invisible!” she said suddenly, and then we started laughing over the awesome things you could do if you were invisible—spy on people and play all sorts of practical jokes. Keisha’s pencil started flying across the paper. She was so excited about her opening paragraph that she dragged me around the school so she could show her essay to her seventh grade English teacher…her sixth grade English teacher…her band teacher…the hall monitor…

Writing is a solitary activity by nature, but helping Keisha with her “invisible” essay made me think about why a writers’ group is so useful…It both gives you that fresh, external perspective that illuminates aspects of what’s right in front of you, and it satisfies one of the most basic reasons why we write in the first place…to have readers.

The Family Cauldron

By Laura Puccia Valtorta

This afternoon I returned to South Carolina from my father’s memorial
service in Watertown, New York. There was a burial of ashes followed by
an afternoon drop-in at the local Italian-American Civic Association.
Both the burial and the memorial gathering afterwards were meaningful
experiences.

I hadn’t seen some of those relatives in 20 years. My fourth-grade
teacher showed up, and about 15 of my dad’s colorful co-workers. Family
members were exchanging genealogical research. I discovered that one
second cousin had made a trip to Reggio Calabria at the invitation of
common relatives there I never knew existed. They treated her royally.

I could write two books on my first cousin, David, who recently sold a
profitable produce business and lives in our grandparents’ old house.
The details of his life are like a soap opera and very entertaining –
to me.

The question is - should this family stuff be written down? Almost every
fiction writer begins by telling the story of his or her family. I did
it in Family Meal. D.H. Lawrence did it with his first book, Sons and
Lovers. Pat Conroy seems to do nothing but write about his domineering
father and mentally ill mother. At some point the reader baulks. Enough
already’! Everyone THINKS he or she has an interesting family. Not many
people do.

People who write memoir have a different task. They seek meaning in the
timeliness or the universality of their experiences. Memoir writers
don’t pretend to take the theme any farther than that.

The problem arises when a fiction writer tries to turn her living
relatives into metaphors. The temptation is great because the
descriptions are so real and easy to come by. The character is large
and loud and standing right there! The author can question the
character. This is too easy.

Maturity in writing comes when we can create characters that are
entirely fictional – not based on a relative or neighbor. These
characters, such as Carmen in my novel about the future, possess a
freedom that yanks them from the quotidian and places them in a
fabulous world full of meaning. Greater meaning than we see at the
office everyday. When we can write this we become more like the great
Haruki Murakami - fiction artists.

The Killer Opening: In Search of a Story's First Sentence

By Shaun McCoy

Sometimes you want to sneak up on your reader. You stay carefully understated as you suck them into your narrative, inch by inch. At other times you want to smack them in the face with a double shot of verbal espresso—and for that you need a Killer Opening.

When the world was young, writers could begin with their stories with their search for inspiration.

Sing to me, Muse…

No longer. These days we have to keep that bit private. The first thing our readers get to see is our actual inspiration, and it had bloody well be inspired.

As a brief refresher we'll go through a short history of good openings.

Rage—Goddess, sing the rage of Peleus' son, Achilles.
-Homer

From the hag and hungry goblin, that into rags would rend ye
-Unknown

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times…
-Charles Dickens

Ten days after the war ended, my sister Laura drove a car off a bridge.
-Margaret Atwood

So how do we create such interesting openings? Practice. Trust me, anything can be practiced.

One way you can come up with a good opening is by creating a formula. One of my favorite formulas is to add an idea that evokes strong emotion to something that causes personalization.

Cannibalism+Personalization="That's right, I ate him."

Love+Personalization="I love Richard Pilkington more than I love frosted flakes."

You can even go "hog wild" and add everything together: Love+Cannabalism+Personalization="I loved Richard Pilkington. I loved him more than frosted flakes. That's why I had to eat him."

That exercise is pretty easy because your opening can be about anything. Creating a high caliber, rock 'em sock 'em beginning with this method can be problematic, however, when you've already got the story in hand. While starting the plot of a story in medias res is ok, learning your literary skills on the fly is just going to waste material. It would seem wise, then, for a writer to get good at such openings before they commit one to paper.

So how do you practice making a Killer Opening for your pre-existing story? I often daydream about how I would open stories that were already written.

F#$@k the Muse's hundred epithets, Achilles was pissed, and he wanted my head.

The first time I saw a man more angry than a god was on that day when Achilles fought the river.

Like anything else in writing, there is skill involved in finding a good opening. After some work a writer can get the knack of creating a sentence that immediately inspires intrigue. To get a better understanding about what word combinations can be exciting you can also flip through your previous writings and take your own sentences out of context. Do any of them work well as an opening? For an example we'll take one from this article.

Trust me, anything can be practiced.

Will a Desperate, Bloody, Evil Title Hook Readers?

By Bonnie Stanard

Would you buy a book with “darling” in the title? “Beauty?” I’ve been thinking about a title for my antebellum novel for over a year. “Inside Slave Quarters” is the working title and one I think describes the story, but my editor says it sounds like nonfiction. My husband says it’s dry and uninteresting. So how do you find a title? Is the title important?

In looking over my collection of antebellum fiction I find such titles as Black April, Beulah Land, and Jubilee. Obviously I’ll steer clear of previous titles and look for something unique. In 2006 two Civil War books by different authors came out with almost identical titles: March and The March. I wasn’t the only person to confuse these two.

A couple of books I treasure have titles so weak I’d never have chosen to read them had they not been on a best seller list: Property and The Known World. A couple of outstanding titles that perhaps helped to propel books to the national scene are The Confessions of Nat Turner and Uncle Tom’s Cabin. Actually, if I could come up with something like Uncle Tom’s Cabin, I’d expect big things from my book. Then there’s Gone With the Wind. Would the book have been as popular titled “Pansy” or “Tote the Weary Load”?

Actually “gone with the wind” comes from a poem by Ernest Dowson. Choosing a title from a well-known text (or not so well known) seems to ground a book in a literary past. Examples of titles taken from the work of other writers—For Whom the Bells Toll; Grapes of Wrath; A Time to Kill; No Country for Old Men; The Skull Beneath the Skin; and Things Fall Apart. I keep my eyes open when reading poems for impressive lines.

As a way of getting ideas, I checked the NYT best seller list to see what is selling. Titles run the gamut from dramatic (Girl with the Dragon Tattoo) to silly (The Art of Racing in the Rain). From boring (House Rules) to very boring (Private). If something like The Island makes the best seller list, you have to wonder if titles matter at all.

Recently I got as gifts two books with engaging titles, Swamplandia and Water for Elephants, and they are proof that a good title will only carry a book so far. Conversely, a captivating book can overcome a bad title, as White Teeth and The Reader demonstrate. Bastard Out of Carolina, in spite of its title, is a well written novel about a serious subject.

A friend recommended the book I’m reading now, Cataloochee. Its title comes from a place. I’m not saying I like the title, but place names figure prominently as titles (think of James Michener’s novels). What about “St. Helena Island” for my title?

Google and Yahoo have introduced other considerations in choosing titles. It’s all about keywords and meta description tags. Writing titles for search engines puts more pressure on us to find compelling words that accurately signal the subject of the book.

* A web site that generates titles is http://www.kitt.net/php/title.php.
* Find projects to inspire you at http://cba-ramblings.blogspot.com/2010/03/how-to-title-your-book.html.
* General info on titles at: http://www.sellingbooks.com/book-titles-sell-books.

The Importance of Subplot

By Michelle Gwynn Jones

Whether it is a desire to learn how to sail or teaching Messapian, subplots add depth to your characters and layers to the novel. A subplot can be about anything in the main character’s (MC) personal or professional life.

Using subplots makes your MC seem real. Most people have more than one thing going on in their life at a time, so should the people that live in your novel. For example: you can write a novel about a woman (MC) and a man in a ten-year marriage, their desire to have a child and the difficulties they encounter reaching that goal. Could that take up the eighty or so thousand words one need to put in a novel? Sure it could, but it would most likely be really drawn out and boring, a MC whose only interest in life is a child.

Now imagine a subplot added in where the husband has a child he has never told his wife about and the child is only six years old. Add to that another subplot in which the wife’s single cousin is extremely disappointed to find out that she is pregnant. While the reader is still interested in the outcome of the main story, there is something else to read about while we wait for her latest test results.

A subplot can be either parallel to or interwoven with the main plot.

Parallel subplots can be the simplest to write. Often it involves a character other than MC who somehow is involved in the MC’s life. The cousin in the storyline above could be a wonderful example of this kind of subplot. The MC finds herself having to be supportive while her cousin decides whether or not to continue her pregnancy, while she shows the family the sonogram of the baby growing inside of her and as she opens presents at the baby shower thrown by the MC. Regardless of what decisions the cousin makes the subplot does not affect the main storyline, the desire of the MC and her husband to have a child.

In contrast, an interwoven subplot has a direct effect on the main storyline, how it ends is crucial. If instead of choosing to have her baby and raise it herself, the cousin decides that the best thing that can happen is for the MC and her husband to raise the child. The subplot is interwoven with the desire of the MC and her husband. Because of its direct bearing on the story, the interwoven subplot is much harder to write then the parallel one.

No matter how many subplots your work has they each have to be a complete story on their own, with a beginning, middle and end.

It is important for the writer to remember that the subplot must be subordinate to the main plot and never let it take over the story.

Point of View

By Monet M. Jones

I think POV is a lot of BS. Let me clarify that statement. I think strict adherence to a particular Point of View when writing a novel is as useless as Broom Straw.

Understand me; a field of broom straw undulating in a light breeze is a beautiful thing. I remember running with my brother through such fields as a youngster. My brother and I thought the waist high grass was wonderful. However, after stumbling over hidden roots in one and almost stepping on a snake in another; we concluded broom straw looks good but hides important details.

I agree that when defining a scene it is important to use a strict point of view. However confining one’s depiction of a story to the insight of a single character simply because some nebulous “they” has decided one should is BS; those letters may not mean Broom Straw in this instance.

I recently reread Of Mice and Men and thought it would have been a shame if Steinbeck had read his story to a writer’s workshop. He told the story his way. So much dimension would have been lost if he had slavishly observed a restrictive narrative mode.

I have decided that henceforth I will use third person omniscient as my usual writing point of view. This should resolve any conflicts about a narrative mode and of course make my writing more like that of Steinbeck.

The Delayed Drop

By Shaun McCoy

Stop.

You've seen this before. It's worse than a stereotype. You could even call it a trope (the dirtiest of all words):

***

It's a Sergio Leone Spaghetti Western and some cowboy has just burst into the bar. You can hear his spurs chinking as he walks across the wooden floor boards. He confronts the bartender and asks for something to drink. It's going to be whisky. They always want whiskey.

The bartender's eyes widen, he's seen something, something important. But what? He pours the whiskey shot in silence as the camera picks up epic close-ups of the unshaven and pock-marked faces of the clientele.

As the cowboy lifts up his drink we see… the music swells… he has manacles about his wrists.

***

That was what Leone called a delayed drop, and that particular one has gotten more play than a Best of Queen CD.

As hesitant as I am to take conventions of one storytelling medium and place them in another, the delayed drop is perfect for writing. Leone used the narrowed perspective of a camera to achieve his delayed drops, but writers have even more freedom. We can show an epic landscape in 3D and still leave out the one important detail that will shock the reader into exuberance.

Using a delayed drop is as simple as thinking about cause and effect. The writer can create suspense, surprise, or wonder in a reader by showing the effect before the cause.

Now go ahead, you haven't seen this one before:

***

"I'm too old for this sh*&!t," the damsel muttered to herself before calling down from the tower in a frightened voice, "Save me! Save me!"

She could feel her room shaking from the final heartbeats of the slain dragon, each quake softer than the last, as the silver armored knight guided his white stallion to the base of her tower.

The knight removed his shiny helmet, revealing the face of an exuberant boy.

"Jeffries, is that you?" she shouted, her eyes opened wide.

"Hi mom!"

***

A delayed drop can spice up many a dull action scene and can be a vital tool in your storytelling. It also helps build a consistent reality in your work. One of the first things we learn as children is that events occur because of causes. The more cause and effect relationships you can create, the stronger your illusion of reality will be. If your character eats lasagna, they should get heartburn. If they eat Taco Bell… well you get the idea. Otherwise, readers will get the sneaking suspicion that things are happening for the purpose of the plot, and it's probably best we never tell them that.

Comedy Writing: British Shenanigans, Barney Fife and a Bucket

By Kimberly Johnson

“The Bouquet residence. The lady of the house speaking!”

There’s a lot of ha-ha packed into that line. And Hyacinth Bucket is just the social-climbing lady to give it you. By the way, it’s pronounced boo-kay.

In PBS’ Keeping Up Appearances, this middle-aged English housewife bumbles her way, in earnest, to keep up with the Joneses. Think Carol Burnett meets Lucille Ball and brings along Ruth Buzzi for the ride.

These telecasts highlight the mischief and mayhem created by Hyacinth. In one episode, the lady of the house chases her man-hungry, scantily-clad sister, Rose, around the churchyard to prevent her from making moves on the unsuspecting vicar.

Full disclosure—I am not an admirer of British wit and its exports of entertainment: John Cleese (Fawlty Towers), Jennifer Saunders (Absolutely Fabulous), and Peter Sellers (Inspector Clouseau of the Pink Panther films). Good heavens, remember the vaudeville-esque Benny Hill?

My confession…I like Hyacinth Bucket. She reminds me of Lucy and Ethel’s highjinks of yesteryear. So, what makes Hyacinth’s antics so humorous?

Veteran television writer Fred Rubin offers some insight in “Five Secrets For Improving Your Comedy Writing.” (www.scriptfrenzy.org)

Secret #1: Be specific.

Secret #2: Put the funny word at the end. According to Rubin, if the writer uses a word that is paramount to the punch line, put that word at the end of the joke.

Secret #3: Words with a hard “K” or hard “C” sound are funny. “Watch any great comedy movie or any classic sitcom, and you will find across the board that a good majority of the jokes rely on the use of a word with these sounds,” Rubin states. He cites an example from Woody Allen’s Annie Hall: a tearful Annie gets Alvy Singer (Woody Allen) to come to her apartment to kill a spider. He charges into the bathroom with a tennis racket and after much off-screen noise and combat he comes out to announce, “You got a spider in there as big as a Buick!”

Secret #4: Rubin advises: “Never write to a joke; let the joke come out of the character or situation.” He adds that good humor originates from well-developed characters with specific and uncommon behaviors. Rubin adds that comedy grows out of the conflict of the situation. Think Barney Fife making Ernest T. Bass a temporary deputy sheriff and having Gomer Pyle ride shotgun in the patrol car.

Secret #5: Exorcise the jokes that don’t fit, even if you love them. “Don’t be afraid to edit, trim back, and discard, because pacing (again rhythm) is also a key ingredient to a successful comedy."