HYPOCRITES in the LANGUAGE FAMILY

By Bonnie Stanard

As I read Richard Edwards’s article “10 Words Editors Hate” I got an adrenaline rush. He affirms my view that some words have become frauds, and we writers are betrayed by using them.

It’s reassuring that I’m not the only person who cringes when I see the word soul, which heads the list. Why do I have the idea that writers who use this word are trying to reveal some deep and intense spirituality? By the way, I doubt that  intense spirituality comes out in words.

The word love is number three on the list. It’s a trouble maker. We cover a lot of emotional territory with that one word. What parents feel for their children may be something that nurtures, impedes, or even destroys. And what about a child’s reaction to a parent? A teenager’s crush? A debaucher’s wanton passion? In sentences, the subject love is promiscuous in selecting direct objects, which might be a book, a movie, Las Vegas, or the Dalai Lama. Love is a belly-fat cliché. When will we come up with precise words to replace it?

The concept of forever is inconceivable, as Edwards points out, so the word is given an impossible task. But that’s not what bothers me. It comes across as an immature effort to be emphatic. I picture the writer chewing gum and blowing bubbles as they type it.

Then there’s light, life, and death. Edwards says an editor will shut down at the sight of these words. Write about them but don’t write the words. I get it about life and death, but light? I’d put dark on the list ahead of light. And as I write this, I know I’ve written dark many times. Light too. I use these two words to express feelings, which by the way is another no-no, i.e., don’t write the word feeling. But stories without feeling are basically news reports, so he’s saying write about feelings without using the word.

Dianne Urban’s article, “43 Words You Should Cut From Your Writing Immediately,” goes overboard. I’d put her word immediately in a list of words to avoid. She makes a good point about words like said, replied, and asked. She suggests we surround dialogue with action and leave out dialogue tags. This doesn’t always work, especially if there’s a quick exchange of comments.

Urban puts the word begin on her list and I applaud that. There are occasions when it might be needed but most of the time it’s like a preview to what is coming next. And who needs a preview when our writing is hot with action?

We once had a writer in our group who took issue with the word that (one of Urban’s 43 words). He marked every that in a paper. Now there are times when you need that. That’s a fact.

Many of Urban’s words are weaklings that undermine your writing, such as completely, then, just, literally, actually, somehow. But what’s wrong with breathe, shrug, nod, think?

WHAT DOES IT MEAN to “TIGHTEN UP” and HOW DO I DO IT?

By Kasie Whitener

I’m bringing the second half of the second novel to group, one segment at a time. Like a serialized version in biweekly installments.

Consistent feedback at one group, for me and others, is “tighten up.” Last week one of our novice fiction writers candidly asked, “What does that mean and how do I do it?”

When our critique group says, “tighten up” I take it to mean I should make the scene less boring. The dialogue should be punchier, the action more impactful, the scene more tense. How do you make a so-so passage that meanders a little bit less boring?

Get rid of all the stuff that doesn’t belong.

Step 1: Reduce the details that don’t directly contribute to the action of the scene.

Sometimes those details are exposition, sometimes they’re scene setting like the lighting or furniture in the room. Whatever slows down the pace of the scene or distracts from the real action has got to go. How do you know? Take it out and read the scene without it. Do you miss it? Count how many details are about a person, remove half of them. How many are about the room? Remove half of those.

Step 2: Read the dialogue out loud. Just the dialogue.

If it bores you, it bores us. Tightening up dialogue means the characters only have to say what matters to the story. We can assume they greeted one another upon arrival, so dispense with the “Hi, how are you?”s. Strong writers use dialogue to advance the plot. Accusations, denials, confessions, and pleas get dialogue. Instructions (“Put that down.”) and procedural stuff (“I made lunch.”) don’t deserve dialogue. Give them gestures. Or better yet, assume we know they exist and cut them all together.

Step 3: Read each sentence word-by-word and cut any extra words.

Being succinct is an easy way to add tension to a scene. Read each sentence and consider what the real action should be. We sometimes combine two unrelated actions into the same sentence. Decide which one stays and which one gets cut. We sometimes give full driver’s license descriptions (hair color, eye color, height, weight) when only one feature matters. Pick one. Tightening up is about getting rid of the excess line-by-line.

Tightening work can also mean “kill your darlings” those clever turns of phrase you think demonstrate your quality as a writer. But mostly it means focus the passage on what matters to the story. It may require that you re-evaluate what the scene means to the novel. The hard work of writing is revision.

When I’m told “tighten up” I think my readers lost focus somewhere. I don’t want that. I want them spellbound by every single word. So only use the good words. Stream of consciousness may have worked for Mrs. Dalloway but Ulysses proved it’s unsustainable. Novice writers get better when they cut the excess and focus on the story.

Procrastinators Would Unite Tomorrow, if Their Writing Wasn’t Blocked, Maybe

By El Ochiis

How can you convince yourself to write when even your imaginary friends won’t talk to you? Writer’s block, and some form of procrastination, probably existed since the invention of writing.  But you can blame English poet, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, who first described his “indefinite indescribable terror” at not being able to produce work he thought worthy of his talent. Of course, soon afterwards, “French writers latched onto the idea of a suffering connected to writing and expanded it to create the myth that all writers possessed a tortured soul, and were unable to write without anguish.”

Speaking of the French, and, writers, it has been after I’ve finished reading Flaubert’s Madame Bovary that I cease tapping letters on my keyboard in an attempt to produce what I believe is a Man Booker award-winning novel and clean my closets in search of a blanket to use for curling into a fetal position. How can any writer pen something as prolific as Flaubert? Well, firstly, he lived with his mother and didn’t have to pay rent or buy food. You see how that just happened, I was writing about avoiding the task of writing, leading to writer’s block, yet I managed to digress. But, this should count as part of the subject matter – wait, I had to perform hours of research on the internet – oh look, I found a cute cat video that just had to be posted on Facebook, then, tally how many likes – crap, a day has been shot to Hades, but, I still had a few more days to finish that piece.

Back to the subject, I think. You see, any female who has given birth, knows that to nurture another human being whilst churning out prose worthy of publication, for financial compensation, is nearly impossible. My point, Flaubert was not a mother? Oh dear, maybe some of us writers may simply suffer from attention-deficit disorder. Nah, it’s definitely procrastination.  

Tim Urban says that procrastinators’ brains are the same as non-procrastinators, save for the presence of a little friend called an “instant gratification monkey.” This monkey seems to be a lot of fun, but, in fact he/she is nothing but a ton of trouble – monkeying around is fun but not productive when you’re under pressure to produce.

So, does a writer, tackle procrastination that leads to blocked writing or vice versa? Well, after having researched both for days BEFORE I managed to tackle writing this piece, I came across some advice that even I would agree is helpful:

1. Form a relationship with your inner critic – you know, the one inside your head that is capable of convincing you to bring your writing to a complete halt through a huge dose of self-doubt, leading to self-deprecation. “Have you overdosed on metaphors?” “I think you could use a better opening, couldn’t you?” Stephen King struggled with it and Margaret Atwood was well acquainted with its debilitating effects – I doubt there is a writer who hasn’t been blocked by his/her own inner critic.  

   

2. Talk to your characters – like you would converse with a friend or stranger who is trying to make your acquaintance or you his/hers - seriously, at the center of all stories are characters. Then, if they are not clearly defined in your mind, you most likely to come crashing straight towards writer’s block. Some conversations to have with your character(s):

a. If your house was on fire and he could run back inside and save one thing, what would that be?

b. What is the one trait you deplore in yourself?

c. What is your idea of perfect happiness?

Create a profile for your character(s):

1. The outer layer – physical appearance and the basics: name, place of birth, height, weight, speech, communication – stuff that makes each person different from the rest.

2. The Flesh – (past or backstory) - characters are products of their environments (family and external relationships)

3. The core – deep down, who is your character? Play with psychology – is he/she street or book smart? What does your character want in the story?

3. Take a walk – no, really – walking can help a writer think.  Writing IS thinking. A study at Stanford has found that walking improves creativity – it can actually help improve brain function and allow you to come to more effective and novel solutions.

Walk along a river, lake or trail, have a goal for your walk, at least one mile, before you give in to fatigue, heat, cold or procrastination, leading to writer’s blockage, or, vice versa. If you weren’t able to complete numbers one and two, you will AFTER you’ve walked.

VOICE REVISED

By Sharon May

One of my previous blogs focused on voice. At the time, I was in the early stages of writing a novel, which has multiple first-person narrators. My first step in brainstorming about the topic was to search the Internet. That helped me write the blog, but not the novel. I learned the definition of voice and how to build the character of a narrator, but not how to write a distinctive, engaging voice, much less several of them.

Many novels out there have bland, distant, and downright boring narrative voices, whether first or third. Or stereotypical ones. Hillbillies are painted as ignorant and are to be made fun of. Women sound whiney and/or bitchy. Men often have a false toughness, like the author is imitating how the Marlboro man might talk. Drug dealers sound like they stepped out of Pulp Fiction. What readers want is a voice that carries the novel and that is ultimately, unique and memorable.

Someone once said that when fiction has multiple narrators, a reader should be able to turn to any page and determine quickly who the narrator is. The structure of sentences and the word choices are extremely important in building narrators. Setting a novel in Appalachia, as I am, means everyone has a dialect, but all the narrators can’t have the same linguistic markers.

In reality, hillbillies will sound hillbilly, but not speak the same. Some hillbillies revel in the language of the hills, while others try to hide its influence on them. Also, some will rely heavily on the words and pronunciations that are distinct to the region. Some speakers drop -s, -g, and -ed endings. The key to creating an interesting, distinctive voice is putting all the pieces together to find the grammar of a particular narrator.

First-person narrators are not simply characters to be developed, but also story tellers. Their stories obviously raise the question of reliability. But there is more to consider. The author has to decide how and why the narrator is telling the story. What are the motivations for revealing plot and for introducing and reacting to other characters? How does each narrator relate to the surroundings and help build mood?

The voices of the two main characters of my novel, Lafe and Preston, came alive magically, organically. Honestly, I was lying down, thinking about beginning the novel again – for at least the fourth time in 30 years. Suddenly, Lafe spoke a line to me to introduce himself when I asked myself who should begin the story. Much the same happened with Preston when I was trying to determine how he is different from Lafe and what his purpose as story teller is. The other narrators are finally “finding their voices” too.

A lot of writers avoid first-person narrators because they think the work will be judged as autobiographical and by an inexperienced writer. I may not have published the novel yet, but I am getting very experienced at understanding and mastering voice.

WHY CAN’T YOU JUST CALL YOURSELF A ‘WRITER?’

By Kasie Whitener

I subscribe to Runner’s World magazine and every now and then the discussion comes around as to when someone can realistically call themselves a runner.

If you started a Couch-to-5K program yesterday and haven’t gotten to the running part yet, are you a runner?

If you used to run half-marathons but now mostly stroll with your neighbors instead of training for anything serious, are you a runner?

It’s called ‘imposter syndrome’ and has been explored at length in discussions ranging from sports newbies (like runners) to female business owners (entrepreneurs). It fascinates me that as I reached the point in my career where I finally have a good amount of experience and expertise, I’m surrounded by people who admit they feel like fakes.

But no place do I see this rash of insecurity as often as I do in the writing community. There are dozens of reasons why. Here are just a few:

‘Writer’ is a broad title for a number of professional roles.

To be a professional, one must be paid. Professional writers can be copywriters in marketing departments, communications specialists in public relations offices, journalists or storytellers in news outlets, and even the holy grail: Novelist complete with publisher, agent, and roof-over-your-head paycheck. So does winning a contest with a $300 payout make me a professional writer? Do blog subscribers count as currency?

 ‘Writer’ could mean any level of experience and education.

In most professions, there’s a career path that includes some combination of education and experience. But writers don’t always have the same credentials or the same resumes. Many of them have no resume at all. Your work is your evidence of achievement. Unless you have an MFA, right? Or a PhD?

Being a ‘writer’ only means you write. It doesn’t have to mean anything else. But it could.

If you’ve been writing, you’re a ‘writer’ according to Jeff Goins who has made a tidy internet success out of telling people to self-declare. But there are professional writers who want the title to mean more. They want prestige and meaning behind the term. Lance Armstrong is a cyclist, sure, but I rode my bike yesterday and that technically makes me one as well.

The accolades and distinctions of ‘Writer’ are not organized into any recognizable path of achievement.

While there are national and international awards of distinction and while publication in esteemed journals or by discerning publishers can be badges of your skills, the literary world is highly subjective. For every dozen learned scholars who praise The Great Gatsby, there’s an equal cadre of scholars who loathe the work. How can subjectivity rule a profession? Ask any gymnast with a gold medal.

If it’s not enough to simply write and be a ‘Writer’ then create for yourself a vision of what you think ‘Writer’ is. Decide what you want to accomplish, what respect or recognition you’d like to earn and then put in the work to make that goal a reality.

ARE YOUR NARRATIVE ‘TELLS’ OBVIOUS?

By Kasie Whitener

Poker players have ‘tells.’ Maybe it’s tapping a pinky on the table, crossing or uncrossing legs, or blinking a little bit longer than usual. Tells are the minor behaviors that indicate the cards dealt the player are either very good or very bad.

Writers have tells, too. Whether it’s a pattern of development that is beyond genre conventions, or a particular phrase a writer favors, writer tells are the things we love to hate about reading the same authors over and over.

Ben Blatt captures these tells in his book Nabakov’s Favorite Word is Mauve. Using a method he describes in this article, Blatt suggests that the frequency of certain words in a piece works like a fingerprint to identify the author.

I’d argue that the fingerprint is just part of establishing one’s narrative voice. Prolific authors, like my favorite Kindle Unlimited romance star J.A. Huss, rely on the well-exercised muscles of vocabulary and voice to deliver stories quickly. I can’t be certain Huss isn’t being intentional about the fingerprint; I’d be more willing to bet she’s writing what she knows will sell.

So where would the identification of the fingerprint be really useful? Blatt explains the method was created to identify the true authors of anonymous writings like The Federalist Papers. Historians are notoriously dogged about assigning credit to things like anonymous essays.

How can the fingerprint concept teach us about our own writing?

While reviewing my novel, After December, before sending to a professional editor, I noticed what I described to my publisher as “The Brady Bunch Habit.” Everybody was looking at everybody else. Eye contact is my go-to narrative action. During this most recent revision, I worked on switching out neck-up action for whole-body action: posture, weight shifts, clothing fidgets, shoe scuffing. Anything to add action to the scene that wasn’t characters looking at one another (or looking away because eye-contact-avoidance is my second favorite).

I’m reading a series now where the author more than once has a character admit to being unable to read another character’s expression. Turns out these people are really bad at recognizing facial tells. Or, more likely, the author loves the way an inability to read one’s listener forces the speaker to take a chance on whatever she’s about to say. It’s an effective device used once per book. Unless you’ve read five of her books. Then it’s a recognizable tell.

On the daily our preferences as consumers are being catalogued by ones and zeroes wherever we leave a digital footprint. Facebook shows us relevant ads, Zappos basically stalks us, and Amazon suggests titles that match our browsing and buying history.

The author’s fingerprint is just another algorithm by which we can code the sloppy, emotional wreckage of creation. Whether it’s sentence structure or vocabulary, as we become better (and more prolific!) writers, we shape our own fingerprint through our work. Now we just have to decide if we’re intentionally telling other players we have a full house.

What are your narrative tells?

COUNTERFEIT BOOKS on AMAZON

By Bonnie Stanard

Counterfeiting is becoming a problem for writers who publish and sell their books on Amazon, according to the New York Times. Though it’s not considered widespread, there’s no reason to believe that book counterfeiters will willingly retrench their profitable activities, especially considering that there’s no organized measures being taken to track down counterfeit books.

How do you know if somebody has copied your novel and is selling it on Amazon? The discoveries so far have been made by readers who have recognized book duplicates or irregularities on Amazon. For example, an Atari buff discovered and exposed a counterfeit copy of Breakout, by Jamie Lendino. A certain Steve S. Thomas remade Breakout and sold it as his own. He got rid of the title and replaced it with the subtitle — How Atari 8-Bit Computers Defined a Generation. According to the NYT, “He put on a new cover and substituted his name for Lendino’s” and kept Lendino’s biographical details. 

Other writers have said their books have been copied and sold by counterfeiters: Andrew S. Greer (her novel Less); Tish H. Warren (Liturgy of the Ordinary); Danielle Trussoni (Falling Through the Earth); Lauren Groff (Florida). According to the NYT, “For 18 months Amazon has sold a counterfeit of Agatha Christie’s Murder on the Orient Express despite warnings in reader reviews that it is a ‘monstrosity,’ dispensing with such standard features as proofreading and paragraph indenting.”

Amazon tells prospective publishers and sellers, “It is your responsibility to ensure that your content doesn’t violate laws or copyright...or other rights.” In other words, Amazon does not assume any responsibility for selling counterfeits. And our courts have not found Amazon liable for selling counterfeit products. The company has successfully argued that it is a platform for sellers, rather than a seller itself.

The Authors Guild, in advocating for the creation of a small claims court, points out that a major factor to the rise in book piracy is that the law does not hold internet platforms accountable for copyright offenses of sellers in the same way as brick and mortar stores, which are held liable for unlawful sellers on their premises.

Andrew Hunt, publisher of a computer book that was stolen, pointed out that when somebody buys a counterfeit, the real author may get cheated but Amazon still makes a sale. “You could ask, What’s their incentive to do something?” he said.

So where does that leave you? It means that you must figure out if Amazon is selling counterfeit copies of your book. When it comes to issues such as copyright infringement, we as individual writers have no clout. Which gives us a reason to join an organization and find strength in numbers. One of the best known for its advocacy of writers is the Authors Guild.

If Steve S. Thomas and a gang of counterfeiters are rounded up, can we expect them to be prosecuted? Will they go to jail? Not according to James Gibson of the University of Richmond School of Law: “...the chances that a copyright infringer will suffer any legal consequence – criminal or civil – are vanishingly small."

There is hope on the horizon. Congress is currently considering the proposed Copyright Alternative in Small-Claims Enforcement (CASE) Act, which would create a small claims tribunal to hear counterfeit charges. Currently such cases must be brought in federal court at a cost of several hundred thousand dollars.

HOW MUCH IS TOO MUCH RESEARCH?

By Rex Hurst

Currently I am finishing up a book, called Sunday Morning at the Peak of Hell, the setting of which is the great beyond, the bad place where the souls of all the people we don’t like go. It’s a modern day odyssey through the afterlife, similar to the one Dante took in the 11th century, only updated for modern times.

So far it’s taken me five years to complete. Not because of the plot, there isn’t much of one, it’s because every time I had a new historical figure, I feel the need to stop all work and research the hell of that sad soul.

Granted a lot of these characters aren’t exactly well known in the public domain: Decius Mus, Upnastium, Alistair Crowley, Anton lay Vey, Tomas de Torquemada, Hetty Green, Ambrose Bierce, Wilhelm Reich, and John Romulus Brinkley. Recognize any of those names and you get a gold star. However, when I added each of these characters, often knowing very little myself about their lives, I felt the need to stop everything, buy every book I could on them (often this didn’t amount to much more than two books, in two of the cases there weren’t any and I was forced to use Wikipedia alone), and absorb the whole of their lives.

Which is why the whole of the book has taken five years to complete.

You’re probably going to laugh when I say that all of these months of research often only resulted in a few extra paragraphs (maybe half a page at most) of text. But I was also trying to absorb the flavor of the historical figure’s personality, so that their dialogue in Hell would seem accurate to the two readers who would read my novel and also know who John Romulus Brinkley or Hetty Green were. For some reason, it needed to feel right to me.

Now later on, as I’m polishing this work up to actually send to publishers, I’m wondering if I just spent too much time, literally years, on making these obscure characters as real as possible. Maybe I’m too much of a perfectionist. Maybe I’ve got OCD. Maybe I’ve been wasting my time and no one will give a damn.

As a final taste test, I gave the latest draft to my wife. She read over the manuscript and shrugged.

“It’s pretty good,” she said.

“What did you think of the depiction of Ambrose Bierce?”

“Oh, is that a real person?”

Ah well….

MANAGING FEEDBACK to IMPROVE WRITING QUALITY

By Ruth P. Saunders

Getting feedback from other writers is not enough; we must also use it productively to improve the quality of our writing. Here are some guiding thoughts to consider.

      · Share an early draft but not the first.  

Develop the piece through self-editing before sharing but not for too long. Getting input sooner moves the writing forward and reduces opportunities for attachment, which can inhibit the openness needed to manage constructive criticism.

· Separate yourself from the products you have created.

The critique applies to the piece, not the person producing it. Self-doubt predisposes us to infer what comments mean about the writer rather than about words and sentences. Seek constructive ways to increase confidence rather than pursuing “evidence” to support personal misgivings. Alternatively, feeling accomplished as a writer may incline us toward reluctance to accept criticism of new work.

· Try it all on and then take off what doesn’t fit.

Treat all criticism as valid initially—open your mind completely and try out suggestions on the page. It’s like shopping for clothes or accessories: experiment, put on something new, and take a good look in the mirror. If it doesn’t look good or feel right, take it off.

· Allow time for processing and incubating.

Grant yourself days, weeks, or months to review feedback, reflect, “try it on,” and see how it works. Some comments become clearer with repeated consideration, and others need to incubate undisturbed for periods of time. Check with trusted others about remarks you find disagreeable or unclear.

· Pay attention to patterns.

Notice similarity in feedback received from different people over time and incorporate fixes for these into your self-critiquing and self-editing process. For example, I overuse the word “that.” I search for and correct this as part of my writing process.

· Consider the source and the circumstances.

Writers vary in ability to provide constructive criticism, which is a learned skill separate from the art of composing. And accomplished critics experience transient events affecting ability to provide useful feedback on a single occasion. Remember this if you are baffled by a review.

· Strive to provide useful and empathetic comments for others.

As your ability to critique others’ writing develops, you improve at assessing and applying feedback to your own.

· Affirm yourself as a writer.

Keep a balanced focus on what succeeds as well as the problems in every piece. The goal is to strengthen your work and you control this process. And, as always, keep writing.

THE LATEST ADDITION

Meet a New Columbia II Blogger

SAM GRIFFITH

Sam is an English teacher from the American southeast. He writes poetry, fiction, and, occasionally, song lyrics. An early reader of fantasy, his tastes now range from Russian epics to Japanese haiku. When he isn’t doing something related to literature, he enjoys playing disc golf or collectible card games with friends. As of August, 2019, he will begin a teaching position at a public high school in Qingdao, China.

Sam's first post on this page follows.

WRITING VULGARITY

By Sam Griffith

For the past couple years, I have experienced a growing fascination with vulgarity. As writers, how should we write coarse language on the printed page? Do we transcribe word for word and censors be, um, darned? Do we skirt the issue by using phrases like, “John cursed loudly…”? Obviously, we each must find our own style, but it seems to me the former strategy is becoming more and more the norm. I wanted to know what that says about us, both as individuals and as a society.

An article I found early in my search by Katy Steinmetz (written for Time) delved into the science of why we swear. She writes that swearing helps us quickly communicate the intensity of our feelings. Not only that, swearing can trigger physical changes in our bodies: increased heart-rate, pores opening, pupils dilating. Swearing, it has been scientifically demonstrated, can help us handle pain. It was interesting reading, but it didn’t speculate on why we appear to be swearing more, or what that might mean.

Digging deeper, I found stories by Simon Worrall (interviewing Emma Byrne for National Geographic) and Matthew J.X. Malady (writing for Slate). Both articles talked about how vulgarity is changing. Historically, our vulgar words have commonly fallen into two categories: bodily functions (and the privacy of those functions) and religion. For centuries, religious vulgarity contained some of the most shocking phrases you could say (that’s why it’s called cursing). Today, we still have those phrases, but fewer people care. Meanwhile, a rise in the concept of personal privacy (which is really not more than a few hundred years old) saw an attendant rise in the power of swear words associated with those things that happen in private. These words took up the slack of our waning religious zeal, but even they are today being supplanted. Both articles mention a new category of vulgarity emerging: the vulgarity of sociological abuse, the language of bigotry.

Imagine two people. One goes around using the F word regularly in public. Another regularly uses racial slurs. Perhaps you feel neither is positive, but which of the two would you feel more comfortable being seen with? And it’s not just racial slurs. Malady’s article points to words like “retarded” or even “fat.” They pack a more powerful punch than they did even 20 years ago. People don’t often say them publicly without at least glancing about to see who may be listening.

So maybe it’s not that our society is more vulgar. Maybe our vulgarity is changing. As a writer, I’m sure I’ll continue to wrestle over what I want the printed page to say and how to best capture the language of our time. I encourage you all to check out these articles yourselves. There is a lot of interesting material I didn’t get the chance to go into at all, like how casual vulgarity among friends builds trust, or how chimpanzees taught themselves to curse.

Coach Your Characters to Self-Discovery

By Raegan Teller

In a past work life, I was an executive coach. A coach facilitates discussions with others to help them gain self-awareness, clarify goals, achieve their objectives, and unlock their potential. Rarely does a coach “tell” someone what to do or offer direct advice. Instead, she asks insightful questions that lead to self-discovery. While professional coaching requires many hours of training, any writer can employ simple coaching techniques to develop characters.

I can’t take credit for creating this writing technique, but I have used it for years and can say it’s truly magical. My readers have said things like “your characters literally jump off the page” or “I feel like I know these characters personally.”

What I discovered was that the typical character profile is the equivalent of “telling” characters who they are, what they believe, and how they are supposed to behave. If you have flat characters, it may be because you don’t have enough insight into what drives them to act or react when faced with your plot. Through a coaching-type process, you can gain a deeper understanding of characters than you can with typical writing techniques.

Here’s how it works. If you are further developing an existing character, or creating a new one, as I was this week for the fourth book of my Enid Blackwell series, simply coach that character to self-discover who he or she is. You do so by asking the character a series of questions. For example, ask your character to respond in first person to the questions below. You simply answer as though you are that character. Write stream-of-consciousness style for a full five minutes. If you run out of steam, simply reply, “I don’t know what else to say,” over and over until you can resume. Set a timer on your phone or computer and don’t cheat by stopping early. Some of the most revealing character revelations come near the end of the five-minute session.  

Here are some examples of character-coaching questions:

· How would you finish this sentence: Everything will make sense when . . .?

· What do you see when you look in the mirror?

· What was the most defining moment of your life?

· Who was the most influential person in your life—why?

· What are five things you want to do before you die?

Note that these are “deep” questions, not superficial ones like, “What’s your favorite color?” There’s nothing wrong with asking easy questions, but you won’t learn much from them.

Remember that when you are writing in first person as your character, you must resist the urge to force the answers. You are merely the conduit—the reply should come from your character. While it may seem weird at first, close your eyes and try to hear your characters talking to you. If you can push your preconceived notions about them aside for five minutes and just let them talk, you’ll be amazed at what they have to say. 

SURFING THE 3 LEVELS OF CRITIQUE

By Kasie Whitener

I’ve been moonlighting with Columbia III, being very strategic about how I get feedback from my two different critique groups. I take half the short story to Cola II on Monday, I fix the story with their feedback and take the updated six pages to Cola III the following Tuesday. I repeat the process for the second half of the story and at the end of the month I have a well-polished short story.

Then I send it to my long-time critique partner, Jodie, and get her take. Then I send it to my publishing friend and get his take. Finally, I fix what Jonathan said was broken and submit the piece for publication.

I speak frequently on the importance of seeking feedback and on how difficult it can be to take criticism on something you are sure is your best work. So when one of our Cola III writers brought romance novel pages that the rest of the group said needed some serious work, I confidently said, “I can fix this.”

Two things about that: 1) I’m a serial romance novel reader, I’ve already finished over 100 romance novels this year and read about 150 last year; I know the genre, know the formula, and generally know what makes a good one and why some of them just stink.

But, 2) no one can “fix” your work for you. Not even me.

I should have said, “You can do these three things which may address the challenges here.” To suggest I can “fix” the work is both arrogant and presumptive. I honestly just got so excited about helping a romance writer.

There are levels to feedback and you should know, as the submitting writer, what level you’re looking for.

Level 1

People who know you and love you and will encourage you to keep going. This is my Cola II group and I frequently bring them stuff that may or may not be a real story.

Level 2

People who don’t know you but do know writing and are willing to tell you (compassionately), “This needs work.” This is my Cola III group and I only bring them the polished stuff.

Level 3

People who may or may not know you but it doesn’t matter because they’re judging the work as professionals. This is Jodie and Jonathan. They have serious writing chops of their own and know I can take the line-by-line “this works” and “this doesn’t” or the overall “this story bored me” or “you really have something here.”

Critique should always, always be about the words on the page.

If you’re new at critique, work with your Level 1 people for as long as it takes to build up the calluses you’ll need at Levels 2 and 3. It’s safe to assume a critique group is not Level 1 unless you’ve been with them a while. And even then, the good ones will push you like a Level 2.