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,
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Sunday, June 19, 2011
Writing a Bio
By Bonnie Stanard
“I can write something about almost anything, but when it comes to a bio, I don’t know what to say.” If you haven’t said this yourself, you’ve probably heard somebody else say it. Kia Goins, SCWW’s vice president, recently wrote in the Quill, “It’s my turn to write a brief biography. This is far more difficult than I imagined.”
If you’re submitting your work to agents, journals, or publishers, a short bio of sorts appears in your query letter. This is where you provide credentials that say you’ve been published, won awards, or been recognized as a wordsmith by some authority other than your family. It’s where you provide evidence that you’re qualified to write a book. If it’s nonfiction, you’ll sink or swim on your education, experiences, and/or qualifications to address the subject of your book. A novel is different, for the imagination needs no college degree. Assuming you have imagination, the focus becomes your writing skills.
What to do if you have no published works, i.e., no obvious credentials? One possibility is to show that you’re serious about writing. Recount writer organizations you belong to, such as the South Carolina Writers Workshop (SCWW) or Romance Writers of America. Add a note about conferences that inspired you or list conferences you’ve attended.
Do you contribute to a writer’s blog (such as this one)? That’s another way to show that you are working on your skills and trying to improve. You may want to provide the link to the web address as well. Don’t underestimate the importance of an online presence (consider where you’re reading this…). Have you participated in other exercises that show your commitment to writing, such as the November Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo)?
Another possibility is to explain how you came to write. As a child, did you love “Rikki-Tikki-Tavi” (or some such story) or Laura Ingalls Wilder (or some such author)? A love of reading and/or writing that dates back to your youth demonstrates depth. If you can appear well-read, all the better, e.g., comment on authors you admire or emulate.
If you have no writing background to speak of, tell of the passion that inspired you to write the book. Even without credentials, you can win over readers if you write passionately and intelligently. Perhaps you haven’t solved a mystery, but you’re a Sherlock Holmes junkie. Maybe you don’t know Shoeless Joe Jackson, but you know his date of birth and next of kin. In other words, if you’ve written a western, sound obsessed with westerns; if a football story, let your ardor for the game show.
Unless your bio is part of a letter, write it in third person and provide contact information. Most bios are no longer than a paragraph, so make fewer words say more. Try for clear sentences that get to the point.
Occasionally a biography will say: “Eva lives in the Lowcountry with her three cats.” Or dogs, or goldfish. Am I the only person who doesn’t want to know about a writer’s pets? When handled well, personal information may personalize or provide insight, but there’s a fine line between purposeful information and useless chatter.
“I can write something about almost anything, but when it comes to a bio, I don’t know what to say.” If you haven’t said this yourself, you’ve probably heard somebody else say it. Kia Goins, SCWW’s vice president, recently wrote in the Quill, “It’s my turn to write a brief biography. This is far more difficult than I imagined.”
If you’re submitting your work to agents, journals, or publishers, a short bio of sorts appears in your query letter. This is where you provide credentials that say you’ve been published, won awards, or been recognized as a wordsmith by some authority other than your family. It’s where you provide evidence that you’re qualified to write a book. If it’s nonfiction, you’ll sink or swim on your education, experiences, and/or qualifications to address the subject of your book. A novel is different, for the imagination needs no college degree. Assuming you have imagination, the focus becomes your writing skills.
What to do if you have no published works, i.e., no obvious credentials? One possibility is to show that you’re serious about writing. Recount writer organizations you belong to, such as the South Carolina Writers Workshop (SCWW) or Romance Writers of America. Add a note about conferences that inspired you or list conferences you’ve attended.
Do you contribute to a writer’s blog (such as this one)? That’s another way to show that you are working on your skills and trying to improve. You may want to provide the link to the web address as well. Don’t underestimate the importance of an online presence (consider where you’re reading this…). Have you participated in other exercises that show your commitment to writing, such as the November Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo)?
Another possibility is to explain how you came to write. As a child, did you love “Rikki-Tikki-Tavi” (or some such story) or Laura Ingalls Wilder (or some such author)? A love of reading and/or writing that dates back to your youth demonstrates depth. If you can appear well-read, all the better, e.g., comment on authors you admire or emulate.
If you have no writing background to speak of, tell of the passion that inspired you to write the book. Even without credentials, you can win over readers if you write passionately and intelligently. Perhaps you haven’t solved a mystery, but you’re a Sherlock Holmes junkie. Maybe you don’t know Shoeless Joe Jackson, but you know his date of birth and next of kin. In other words, if you’ve written a western, sound obsessed with westerns; if a football story, let your ardor for the game show.
Unless your bio is part of a letter, write it in third person and provide contact information. Most bios are no longer than a paragraph, so make fewer words say more. Try for clear sentences that get to the point.
Occasionally a biography will say: “Eva lives in the Lowcountry with her three cats.” Or dogs, or goldfish. Am I the only person who doesn’t want to know about a writer’s pets? When handled well, personal information may personalize or provide insight, but there’s a fine line between purposeful information and useless chatter.
Sunday, June 12, 2011
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?
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?
Sunday, June 5, 2011
The Latest Addition
Meet Our Newest Blogger
GREGORY WYCHE
A Connecticut native, and the son of two librarians, I am a graduate of the University of Connecticut and a research assistant at the University of South Carolina where I study geology. My initial foray into writing occurred around the age of five when I started emulating my mom, Claudia Wyche, who is herself an avid, though unpublished, author. During the following decade, writing continued to be a hobby for me that eventually progressed into a full-fledged passion and it was around this time that I concluded that long prose was an outlet that best resonated with my manner of thinking. Since then, I have made my main creative focus novel-writing, drawing inspiration and insight from the interesting people I have met or contacted, including employees of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory, Fish and Wildlife Service and Central Intelligence Agency. I have also spent some time performing scientific writing for the online toxicology database Toxipedia.org and was its 2008 featured editor. More recently, my creative endeavors have chiefly been in the form of screenplays and I am currently working on a screenplay for a feature-length superhero film. My future in writing is wide open as far as I'm concerned. I don't know what I want to try next but I know I want to introduce stronger abstract concepts into my stories. I'm tired of simply performing magic tricks to tell a story. I want to transform the reader. My other hobbies include studying math and physics, meditating, running, amateur filmmaking and designing random machines.
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:
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.
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.”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?
“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.”
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.
Monday, May 30, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
“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.
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.
Sunday, May 15, 2011
Give Us Dirty Laundry and a Headline
By Kimberly Johnson
Yeah. It feels good, in a seedy-Boogie-Nights (the movie) kinda way. Dirty never felt better.
That’s right. I flip through the pages of The Enquirer and Star magazine when I am in the checkout line at Piggly Wiggly. Where do you think I get my news about Charlie Sheen and Lindsay Lohan?
I blame my fascination on the nameless editor’s well-scripted headlines. British-based The Sun is king of the trashy tales. Check out this headline: “Lusty Louise lured boy 15, for sex.” Here in the States, The Enquirer is prince of all rags with titillating titles like “Oprah Hits 246 pounds” and “Winona ‘Sticky Fingers’ Ryder at it again” (2010). My favorite is the duke of the dirty dish, The Globe, with headlines such as “Hillary’s Claw Marks” (1999) and “Nastiest Divorces of 2010.”
Let’s face it, tabloid articles are a long way from being credible outlets of information. I thought about it…Is there a book or something to teach you how to write like this? Because, somebody has to be writing this stuff and getting paid for it.
The answer is yes. The book: Tabloid Prodigy: Dishing the Dirt, Getting the Gossip and Selling My Soul in the Cutthroat World of Hollywood Reporting. The author: Marlise Kast. While surfing the Web, I found a 2007 National Public Radio’s podcast in which Kast details trade secrets and questions her moral compass. She recounted how she applied for a writing job at the Globe magazine as an unemployed college graduate. Despite no journalism credentials, Kast emerged as a quick study and learned the cunning craft of rag writing.
Here’s an excerpt from an encounter with Madeline, the editor. In this scene, Madeline gives the novice writer some advice.
“ …I like your enthusiasm. But you've got to think headlines. Headlines, Marlise! Like here, for example.
She pointed toward my idea of an interview with Anthony Hopkins about his upcoming role in The Edge.
“Obviously Hopkins is not going to give us an interview, nor would we want one. Find out something else that is going on around him. I think you're headed in the right direction."
"Marlise," she said, shaking her head. "We are a tabloid magazine. We want scandal."
Yeah. It feels good, in a seedy-Boogie-Nights (the movie) kinda way. Dirty never felt better.
That’s right. I flip through the pages of The Enquirer and Star magazine when I am in the checkout line at Piggly Wiggly. Where do you think I get my news about Charlie Sheen and Lindsay Lohan?
I blame my fascination on the nameless editor’s well-scripted headlines. British-based The Sun is king of the trashy tales. Check out this headline: “Lusty Louise lured boy 15, for sex.” Here in the States, The Enquirer is prince of all rags with titillating titles like “Oprah Hits 246 pounds” and “Winona ‘Sticky Fingers’ Ryder at it again” (2010). My favorite is the duke of the dirty dish, The Globe, with headlines such as “Hillary’s Claw Marks” (1999) and “Nastiest Divorces of 2010.”
Let’s face it, tabloid articles are a long way from being credible outlets of information. I thought about it…Is there a book or something to teach you how to write like this? Because, somebody has to be writing this stuff and getting paid for it.
The answer is yes. The book: Tabloid Prodigy: Dishing the Dirt, Getting the Gossip and Selling My Soul in the Cutthroat World of Hollywood Reporting. The author: Marlise Kast. While surfing the Web, I found a 2007 National Public Radio’s podcast in which Kast details trade secrets and questions her moral compass. She recounted how she applied for a writing job at the Globe magazine as an unemployed college graduate. Despite no journalism credentials, Kast emerged as a quick study and learned the cunning craft of rag writing.
Here’s an excerpt from an encounter with Madeline, the editor. In this scene, Madeline gives the novice writer some advice.
“ …I like your enthusiasm. But you've got to think headlines. Headlines, Marlise! Like here, for example.
She pointed toward my idea of an interview with Anthony Hopkins about his upcoming role in The Edge.
“Obviously Hopkins is not going to give us an interview, nor would we want one. Find out something else that is going on around him. I think you're headed in the right direction."
"Marlise," she said, shaking her head. "We are a tabloid magazine. We want scandal."
Sunday, May 8, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
A Man and His Passion
By Ginny Padgett
Recently HBO aired a remake of Mildred Pierce as a mini-series, starring Kate Winslet. Many of you will recall the 1945 Joan Crawford version. During the credits I noticed the movie was based on a novel. Since I had mistakenly thought this script came from an original screenplay, I was curious about the author of the original work. Quick research yielded more surprises.
James M. Cain, the author of Mildred Pierce, (the first ever block-buster novel) wrote several other novels that were made into big movies: The Postman Always Rings Twice, Double Indemnity, and Serenade. In addition, I found a collection of his short stories entitled The Baby in the Icebox and Other Short Fiction, which I checked out from the library.
His introduction to this book of short stories was more interesting to me than his fiction. His father was president of Washington College in Chestertown, Maryland. The younger Cain graduated from that college at seventeen, after which he spent the next four years drifting from one job to another, including teaching grammar at his alma mater. One day in 1914, “out of the blue…he heard his own voice say: ‘You’re going to be a writer.’”
He was not successful at first, but he was committed and kept writing. He enlisted in WW I, came home and spent three years as a reporter for the Baltimore Sun, and began to work on his first novel. After three drafts, he threw them all away. While he was writing a column for the “Metropolitan” section of the Sunday World, his short works were published in the Atlantic Monthly, the Nation, the American Mercury, the Bookman, and the Saturday Evening Post. When the World folded, Cain went to the New Yorker magazine where he was very unhappy.
Upon the advice of his agent, he accepted a job as a screenwriter at Paramount Studios and moved to California. He was let go after six months: another failure. However, he decided to stay on the west coast and try to make it as a free-lance writer.
He found his voice and his characters in California, and he enjoyed his highest success as a novelist during the 1930s and ‘40s. Eventually, his work fell out of favor with the public and critics. He moved back to Maryland in 1953 and wrote twelve more novels – but only five were published before his death in 1977.
James M. Cain is my new hero because he never stopped writing, even when it became unprofitable. He felt that “those who can write must write.” I’ve adopted this as my personal motto. In addition, his experiences speak volumes to me about determination and passion.
I leave you with his quote about the practice of writing, recorded during the time he was working on his memoirs just before he died. “It excites me and possesses me. I have no sense of it possessing me any less today than it did fifty years ago.”
Recently HBO aired a remake of Mildred Pierce as a mini-series, starring Kate Winslet. Many of you will recall the 1945 Joan Crawford version. During the credits I noticed the movie was based on a novel. Since I had mistakenly thought this script came from an original screenplay, I was curious about the author of the original work. Quick research yielded more surprises.
James M. Cain, the author of Mildred Pierce, (the first ever block-buster novel) wrote several other novels that were made into big movies: The Postman Always Rings Twice, Double Indemnity, and Serenade. In addition, I found a collection of his short stories entitled The Baby in the Icebox and Other Short Fiction, which I checked out from the library.
His introduction to this book of short stories was more interesting to me than his fiction. His father was president of Washington College in Chestertown, Maryland. The younger Cain graduated from that college at seventeen, after which he spent the next four years drifting from one job to another, including teaching grammar at his alma mater. One day in 1914, “out of the blue…he heard his own voice say: ‘You’re going to be a writer.’”
He was not successful at first, but he was committed and kept writing. He enlisted in WW I, came home and spent three years as a reporter for the Baltimore Sun, and began to work on his first novel. After three drafts, he threw them all away. While he was writing a column for the “Metropolitan” section of the Sunday World, his short works were published in the Atlantic Monthly, the Nation, the American Mercury, the Bookman, and the Saturday Evening Post. When the World folded, Cain went to the New Yorker magazine where he was very unhappy.
Upon the advice of his agent, he accepted a job as a screenwriter at Paramount Studios and moved to California. He was let go after six months: another failure. However, he decided to stay on the west coast and try to make it as a free-lance writer.
He found his voice and his characters in California, and he enjoyed his highest success as a novelist during the 1930s and ‘40s. Eventually, his work fell out of favor with the public and critics. He moved back to Maryland in 1953 and wrote twelve more novels – but only five were published before his death in 1977.
James M. Cain is my new hero because he never stopped writing, even when it became unprofitable. He felt that “those who can write must write.” I’ve adopted this as my personal motto. In addition, his experiences speak volumes to me about determination and passion.
I leave you with his quote about the practice of writing, recorded during the time he was working on his memoirs just before he died. “It excites me and possesses me. I have no sense of it possessing me any less today than it did fifty years ago.”
Sunday, April 24, 2011
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
Why I Write
By Deborah Wright Yoho
At an age too young, striving to please my parents, teachers and peers, I lost myself. My writing is about finding my way back, to reclaim what I've always known to be true. Truths about the shifting world, about relationships, about the power of time and memory. Most especially, about the power of my own voice.
To my surprise, this process has been peaceful rather than disturbing, serendipitous rather than deliberative, full of ebb and flow rather than effort. I write for myself but also for another, searching and reaching in the hope of finding a mind capable and willing, even desiring to understand me.
For me, there is no greater luxury than being understood, because true commonality is rarer than a blade of grass in the desert. Yet I remember the feeling. I remember seven-year-old Scott, giggling with me under his jacket on the school bus, cocooned in a private conspiracy. As a teacher, I live for the moment when my eyes lock with my learner's in a flash of insight as together we discover a new idea. As a young woman, I remember my own unconditional trust flashing back to my heart from the eyes of my first love.
It is not approval I seek. I write pursuing a sense of rest, of slowing down my thoughts, so that one mind can understand another's by capturing authentically on paper mental images, emotions, and yearnings. Converting mental energy to black and white squiggles on a page becomes a tangible and permanent record of my connection to others, like a musical composition or a visual work of art.
At an age too young, striving to please my parents, teachers and peers, I lost myself. My writing is about finding my way back, to reclaim what I've always known to be true. Truths about the shifting world, about relationships, about the power of time and memory. Most especially, about the power of my own voice.
To my surprise, this process has been peaceful rather than disturbing, serendipitous rather than deliberative, full of ebb and flow rather than effort. I write for myself but also for another, searching and reaching in the hope of finding a mind capable and willing, even desiring to understand me.
For me, there is no greater luxury than being understood, because true commonality is rarer than a blade of grass in the desert. Yet I remember the feeling. I remember seven-year-old Scott, giggling with me under his jacket on the school bus, cocooned in a private conspiracy. As a teacher, I live for the moment when my eyes lock with my learner's in a flash of insight as together we discover a new idea. As a young woman, I remember my own unconditional trust flashing back to my heart from the eyes of my first love.
It is not approval I seek. I write pursuing a sense of rest, of slowing down my thoughts, so that one mind can understand another's by capturing authentically on paper mental images, emotions, and yearnings. Converting mental energy to black and white squiggles on a page becomes a tangible and permanent record of my connection to others, like a musical composition or a visual work of art.
Sunday, April 10, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
When the Publisher Comes to You
By David Sennema
I had no concept of the significance of the day the publishers came to me. Well, they didn’t exactly come to me….but they came to a postcard show at which my wife and I were dealers. We bought and sold antique postcards as a retirement business for many years after retiring in 1996.
We had a booth at the show along with many other postcard dealers, but we were the only ones from South Carolina, which turned out to be advantageous. There were representatives of Arcadia Publishing, with their own booth just down the row from us, displaying a sign inviting any and all who might be interested to talk with them about writing local histories illustrated with postcards.
Arcadia grew up in England and had just opened an office in Charleston, South Carolina, after having some success with an office in the New England states. The company was moving into the South and was eager to sign authors for its local history series.
Having recently retired, Marty and I had the time, and we also had what we modestly claimed was the world’s best and most extensive collection of Columbia, South Carolina view postcards. After the Arcadia reps explained what they needed and what the arrangements would be we signed a contract that very day and went to work on our book, Columbia, South Carolina – A Postcard History.
As Marty loves to tell people, the book pretty well occupied our dining room table for the next year as we went about selecting 220 postcards from our collection, researching and writing labels, acknowledgements, an introduction, an explanation of old postcards and an index.
The book hit the market in 1997, and we love to note that it made the local best seller list of The State newspaper on October 12, 1997. Since then we’ve done two revisions of the book, and Arcadia has updated the cover on two occasions. It can usually be found in the local Barnes and Noble stores and is available from them and others via the internet.
Until I started writing fiction and discovered how difficult it is to be published, I never appreciated the ease with which that postcard book came into being.
I had no concept of the significance of the day the publishers came to me. Well, they didn’t exactly come to me….but they came to a postcard show at which my wife and I were dealers. We bought and sold antique postcards as a retirement business for many years after retiring in 1996.
We had a booth at the show along with many other postcard dealers, but we were the only ones from South Carolina, which turned out to be advantageous. There were representatives of Arcadia Publishing, with their own booth just down the row from us, displaying a sign inviting any and all who might be interested to talk with them about writing local histories illustrated with postcards.
Arcadia grew up in England and had just opened an office in Charleston, South Carolina, after having some success with an office in the New England states. The company was moving into the South and was eager to sign authors for its local history series.
Having recently retired, Marty and I had the time, and we also had what we modestly claimed was the world’s best and most extensive collection of Columbia, South Carolina view postcards. After the Arcadia reps explained what they needed and what the arrangements would be we signed a contract that very day and went to work on our book, Columbia, South Carolina – A Postcard History.
As Marty loves to tell people, the book pretty well occupied our dining room table for the next year as we went about selecting 220 postcards from our collection, researching and writing labels, acknowledgements, an introduction, an explanation of old postcards and an index.
The book hit the market in 1997, and we love to note that it made the local best seller list of The State newspaper on October 12, 1997. Since then we’ve done two revisions of the book, and Arcadia has updated the cover on two occasions. It can usually be found in the local Barnes and Noble stores and is available from them and others via the internet.
Until I started writing fiction and discovered how difficult it is to be published, I never appreciated the ease with which that postcard book came into being.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, March 20, 2011
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.
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.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
The Latest Addition
Meet a New Writer
SHAUN McCOY
I was born in Scripts Hospital in San Diego California. I met the love of my life in Poway at the age of three. My parents moved to South Carolina when I was four years old, and I have not seen her since.
I traveled aboard the research vessel World Discoverer to the far off continent of Antarctica at the age of seventeen. At 20 I was struck by CSD which, after incorrectly prescribed antibiotics cleared my system of the bacteria's natural competitors, put me into a coma. I was left hospitalized for a few weeks. I could barely walk upon recovery and had lost many of my motor skills, including the ability to play piano.
I have since recovered, and have played piano professionally for the bar Speak Easy and for the restaurant Thai Lotus.
I have competed in two cage style MMA events, and was fortunate enough to win both of them.
At the age of 29 I decided to pursue my longtime dream of becoming a writer, and have since published a couple of stories in the small press Sci-Fi pulp magazines OG's Speculative Fiction and M-brane SF.
In 2013 I plan to take a two year sabbatical to pursue writing in earnest, and hope to make a career of it. Wish me luck!
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.
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.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
The Tale of a Girl Named Chicken
By Amanda Simays
Recently at the middle school where I work, my fellow volunteers and I started after-school clubs — Hip Hop Aerobics, Photography, Travel, and Creative Writing/Word Games. Guess which club had the least amount of sign-ups?
Yup. My club, Creative Writing. And the ones who did stick it out were much more interested in the word games (Mad Libs, Hangman, etc.) than anything that involved actually putting a pen to paper.
Maybe it’s to be expected at the middle school level, but very few of the students I work with would put “writing” and “fun” in the same sentence. I know a few kids who keep journals or write raps — and the art of passing notes and texting in class is still thriving — but for the most part, writing is viewed as schoolwork drudgery, on par with memorizing Civil War dates and calculating the slope of a line.
I’m trying to fight this attitude. A few weeks ago, I pulled four of my tutees out of class at the same time, handed them their notebooks, and told them to write the beginning of a story. They stared at me blankly.
“You can write anything,” I said. “You just have to write.”
I had my own notebook with me so I could model what I was talking about. I started writing a silly story about two boys who went fishing and caught a mermaid. Tentatively, the other girls started to write too.
“Switch!” I said suddenly, and I made everyone pass her notebook to the left. Gradually, they caught on to what I was getting at, and they also realized that I really meant it when I said that they could write about absolutely anything. When one girl complained that I didn’t give out enough candy, I told her to put that in the story if that’s what was on her mind. Sure enough, she had her character (running through the woods to escape a crazed farmer with an ax) encounter Ms. Amanda there in the forest, eating candy and not sharing with anyone.
Soon the girls turned from whining about having to write to being completely absorbed in the activity, silently scribbling except for the occasional giggle and the periodic shout of “Switch!” By the time the bell rang, we had created five collaborative stories. One girl wrote about a high school romance. Another student wrote about a seven-year-old girl named Chicken who was also “shaped like a chicken.” Were they literary masterpieces? Not really. But the point was to get the students writing, feeling free to put their thoughts into words on paper without worry of being graded or judged.
As a tutor, I have to spend most of my time focusing on the practical side of academic writing, but I’m still convinced that content organization and conventions will be easier to develop if I can foster that spark of enthusiasm for writing first.
Recently at the middle school where I work, my fellow volunteers and I started after-school clubs — Hip Hop Aerobics, Photography, Travel, and Creative Writing/Word Games. Guess which club had the least amount of sign-ups?
Yup. My club, Creative Writing. And the ones who did stick it out were much more interested in the word games (Mad Libs, Hangman, etc.) than anything that involved actually putting a pen to paper.
Maybe it’s to be expected at the middle school level, but very few of the students I work with would put “writing” and “fun” in the same sentence. I know a few kids who keep journals or write raps — and the art of passing notes and texting in class is still thriving — but for the most part, writing is viewed as schoolwork drudgery, on par with memorizing Civil War dates and calculating the slope of a line.
I’m trying to fight this attitude. A few weeks ago, I pulled four of my tutees out of class at the same time, handed them their notebooks, and told them to write the beginning of a story. They stared at me blankly.
“You can write anything,” I said. “You just have to write.”
I had my own notebook with me so I could model what I was talking about. I started writing a silly story about two boys who went fishing and caught a mermaid. Tentatively, the other girls started to write too.
“Switch!” I said suddenly, and I made everyone pass her notebook to the left. Gradually, they caught on to what I was getting at, and they also realized that I really meant it when I said that they could write about absolutely anything. When one girl complained that I didn’t give out enough candy, I told her to put that in the story if that’s what was on her mind. Sure enough, she had her character (running through the woods to escape a crazed farmer with an ax) encounter Ms. Amanda there in the forest, eating candy and not sharing with anyone.
Soon the girls turned from whining about having to write to being completely absorbed in the activity, silently scribbling except for the occasional giggle and the periodic shout of “Switch!” By the time the bell rang, we had created five collaborative stories. One girl wrote about a high school romance. Another student wrote about a seven-year-old girl named Chicken who was also “shaped like a chicken.” Were they literary masterpieces? Not really. But the point was to get the students writing, feeling free to put their thoughts into words on paper without worry of being graded or judged.
As a tutor, I have to spend most of my time focusing on the practical side of academic writing, but I’m still convinced that content organization and conventions will be easier to develop if I can foster that spark of enthusiasm for writing first.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
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."
“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."
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