by L. Jagi Lamplighter

My favorite book on how to write is Writing the Breakout Novel, by Donald Maass. Before encountering it, I was a non-believer. Writing books did nothing for me. Most seemed to be filled with an endless list of what not to do.

But something impelled me pick this book up . . . and everything changed!

Donald Maass is a top New York agent. He reads hundreds of manuscripts a year, maybe thousands. One day—perhaps dazed by the endless mountain of manuscripts he had to scale to reach his desk every day—he began thinking about the phenomena of the breakout novel.

A breakout novel is not the same thing as a bestseller. A bestseller is a book that sells enough to make it onto the New York Times Bestseller’s list. A breakout novel is a novel that sells far more than anticipated. It might be a bestseller, or it might just be a book that was expected to sell five thousand that sold twenty thousand.

The significant thing about breakout novels, however, is that most of them do not get a lot of time or money put into promotion. Which makes sense. No one expected them to do well. But it means that their popularity came almost entirely from word of mouth.

And that is the ultimate compliment a book can have—that it sold well just because people who liked it told other people.

Maass’s question, as he looked nervously up at the tower of papers tottering over his desk, was this: Is the success of these breakout novels due to chance? Or were they actually better than other books?

So, he went out and bought himself one hundred recent breakout novels, and he read them.

And, guess what? They were better!

Which led him to another question: What made them better? What did these books have that so many of the manuscripts piled in the mountain looming over his desk lacked?

This search led to his book, Writing the Breakout Novel. Its success led to him teaching a workshop. He wrote up many of his exercises into a second book, the Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook. (He has since published a third related work called: The Fire in Fiction.)

In his work, Maass identifies what these books do that make them different: engrossing story, enchanting characters, enthralling pacing, enduring themes. Then, for each point, he shows how they do it. Giving examples and exercises that help the writer bring out similar strengths in their own work.

He identifies particular techniques for raising the stakes, for heightening emotions, for bringing characters to life. He also discusses the importance of them and identifies the two themes that resonate most with readers.

Reading his work entirely changed my fiction.

Nearly all of Maass’s work is useful and insightful. Of all Maass’s exercises, however, my favorite is the one on page 64. (This is the villain’s version, but is just as useful for protagonists. I picked it because it is concise—having all the character exercises together in one place.) In it, he urges the writer to note the main quality and goal of their character. Then, to chose an opposite quality and goal. (I find that ‘contrasting’ or ‘opposing’ often works better than opposite.) Then, write a scene in which the character demonstrates the opposing quality or reveals the contrasting goal.

This simple exercise can raise a character to a whole new level, catapulting one-dimensional characters into two-dimensions, and two-dimensional characters in to well-rounded three-dimensional ones.

How does this work?

In art, contrast and shading is what gives an object the appearance of three-dimensions. In writing, it is the same thing. Real life is a jumble of conflicts. We want to save money and buy that new vacuum. We want to move to the location of our dreams and stay near family. We want to admire our cake and eat it, too. These internal struggles are always with us, tormenting and compelling us.

When characters have similar struggles, we innately recognize it as like life, the same way that our eye is fooled by a little dark paint into believing that the shaded side of the bowl of fruit is farther away from us than the brighter side, because it reminds our eye of real shadows on real red glass bowls.

This is only one exercise of many that really brings one’s fiction alive. Another favorite is to take a moment and to pull it out of time, pausing to remind the reader how the past (last year, last month, ten minutes ago) is different from the present—how the character has changed in the intervening time. It is a wonderful trick for heightening the emotional impact of a scene and for drawing out the implications of your characters experience.

These examples are only two of many, many excellent points. His book can be used like a practical reference manual. Stuck? Not sure what your scene needs next? Open the Writing the Breakout Novel Workbook and flip through it until one of the techniques included leaps out at you, sweeping away your writer’s block.

So, as I mentioned, Writing the Breakout Novel is a book that helps the writer know what to do, instead of just what not to do. I found it so useful, I went and took his workshop in person, which was also very helpful.

Armed with Maass’s insights, I entirely revamped my novel and finally made the long-dreamed-of jump from the looming, teetering submission pile to the shelves of my local bookstore. You can, too!

About the author
L. Jagi Lamplighter is the author of the Prospero’s Daughter series, beginning with Prospero Lost. Her short stories have been featured in several science fiction, horror and fantasy anthologies. She also enjoys romance and anime. She blogs at Visions of Arhyalon.

by C. Michelle Jefferies

Brooks’ Story Structure is, in my opinion, the best prescribed formula for how to place a story together. However, I originally used The Hero’s Journey (hereafter referred to as HJ) to plot out my current WIP. A lot of what is also called “The Mythic Structure”, within the HJ, makes sense as a template as to where to place each item the story needs. One thing I disliked about HJ was the common opinion that you could move items around to your liking, therefore maybe putting certain things in the wrong place.

I have found, however, that HJ is a good characterization tool for creating a proper arc. It can also add understanding to Brooks’ Structure if applied properly. Used together I find that I have a more, well-rounded picture of the story.

What we recognize as Concept and Theme in Structure, is the Story Question in the HJ. The question I asked is: Can the MC survive being dumped by the man she thought was her life, and move on? A secondary plot question is: Which guy is right for my MC? These questions begin the thought process of how my character is going to grow in this story—the beginning of that character arc.

The Ordinary World in HJ is the equivalent of Part one: Introduction in Structure. We see the main character, who is at a fancy restaurant, unknowingly waiting for her date to dump her. As character arc, we are finding out what her ordinary world is: what she is thinking, what she is wearing, whether she likes the restaurant and how excited she is about getting married. This is the place for us to start identifying with the MC and establish emotions and rapport with her. Because, when that devastating information comes, we want our reader to be emotionally invested in the MC, enough that they don’t put the book down.

We introduce theme and set things in action by ‘calling the MC to action’, or reaction on her part. The Call to Action in HJ is not plot point #1. Although the event is important, the MC or Heroine, refuses to act. The Call is the boyfriend dumping her in public, which leads us to the Refusal of the Call. My MC goes home and cries, thinking her world is over. She locks herself in her room with a half gallon of ice cream. These actions are giving us more depth into the characters’ personality.

At this point in time we also have what is called Meeting with the Mentor. Sometimes the mentor is the one delivering the call. Sometimes it is the person the MC goes to for advice and help. My MC doesn’t have a “mentor.” She has her friend, who just happens to be a guy, who she goes to for advice and safe friendship after the disastrous date. The relationship between the MC and the mentor is another way that we develop character. How they relate reveals a lot about the MC.

Next, we experience what HJ calls Crossing the First Threshold or plot point #1. The MC is at work, and her friend talks her into going out with his brother. By accepting the date with her friend’s brother, she has accepted that the ex is a jerk and she needs to move on, thus figuratively putting the ice cream securely in the freezer. She moves from what we saw as her ordinary world into the new reality. This area is often a point where our MC struggles to become better and braver, and to take that step into the post-First Threshold world.

Now we enter Part two: reaction, the Tests, Enemies, and Allies stage of the book. This is where the MC adjusts to her new reality—post ex. She begins down a road of new possibilities. Characters, enemies, and trials are introduced during this part. This is where in the “tree” theory after you put your character in the tree, (Crossing the Threshold), you begin to throw small rocks at her. The MC reacts to what her life has dealt her.

As we Approach the Innermost Cave which is Structure’s Mid-point the plot begins to get serious and the “rocks” get a lot bigger. This point is often a place where the writer reveals information to the reader that opens up whole new possibilities. Sometimes the reader knows something that the MC doesn’t even know. My MC finds that she has feelings for both of the brothers. The guy friend finds that he has feelings for the MC too and hates that he has introduced her to his brother. By his “code,” he should back off and let the older brother have his chance with her.

This “reaction” from both the friend and the MC leads us to Part three, proactive stage. This is a time of trials for the MC. She finds out who her real friends are and what she is made of, the previous trials proving her mettle.

As we near The Ordeal, we can have either the “lull moment” where the characters think all is lost and there is no hope, or a “I’ve finally succeeded and this is the end, only to find out it isn’t” moment. My MC has an all is lost moment, and feels that she will never know who is right for her, and she will be single her whole life. This point in the story is a place where we again feel sympathy for the MC and deepens our concern for what happens to her.

The Ordeal or Plot point #2 comes at about [3/4s or] 4/5s way through the book. This is the huge crisis moment, the event that changes everything. After this point in time, no new characters or information may be allowed into the story. The MC is at Thanksgiving with the brother and has had a heated moment with the friend who she thought wasn’t interested. The spark is still there and it has grown stronger. The brother proposes and she has to make a decision—to live a relatively happy life with a good guy, or take a chance with the friend and truly love someone. She says no and runs. The friend follows her at the brother’s request, oblivious to the attraction between them. This is the refining fire for our MC, the culmination of all previous actions. This is where the reader is cheering for the MC to succeed.

Her decision is the Reward. She has proven herself, and has demonstrated to everyone that she has grown and is stronger for it. We are still cheering for her and her success.

What Structure calls Part four, resolution, HJ calls Return With Elixir. The Ordeal brings us massive change in the MC’s life. Now that everything has changed for my MC, she makes decisions that bring about resolution. She confesses her feelings and they finally kiss. They live happily ever after, or at least until the book ends. This is where the MC moves into the new ordinary world and we see not only the comparison to the old world but we see the Story Question answered. We tie up all the loose ends for the reader as well.

What do you think? How would you line up the Hero’s Journey and Story Structure?

About the author
C. Michelle Jefferies practically grew up in a library. When she was ten, she realized she wanted to write stories like the science fiction books she loved to read. A mother of six, she put her writing on the back burner while she focused on raising her young children. When her children were old enough for her to spend a few hours on the computer, without them burning the house down, she returned to writing and hasn’t stopped since. She blogs at My life in a laptop.

Photo credits: path—Kat Gloor; path through structure (bridge)—Jo Ann Deasy

by C. Michelle Jefferies

We’ve been talking about Story Structure according to Larry Brooks’ formula. There are many single elements that, combined, make a solid structure. These include: concept, theme, the four parts of story (introduction, reactive stage, proactive stage, and the resolution), and the five points in the story that move the plot along (plot point #1, pinch point #1, mid-point, pinch point #2, all is lost moment, and plot point #2).

What I have been asked to do today is illustrate how I have used all of these individual points to make a story with a solid structure in my own work. My next post will deal with how the Hero’s Journey can be used to augment the character arc.

The first thing we need to address is Concept, as in “what is the story about?” In two words, my story concept is about second chances. Theme, on the other hand, is more detailed. My theme is: pursuing their dreams and finding happiness by making up one’s mind and taking action.

Once we have concept and theme we can concentrate on the parts and points in the story. To give you an example that flows well, I will be using both the parts and points in the order they are supposed to be in, rather than addressing them separately.

Part one: Introduction—we see the main character, who is at a fancy restaurant waiting for her date. She is dressed to the nines, expecting this to be the dinner when he proposes. Instead of proposing, he tells her it’s over—that there’s another girl. She goes home devastated and publicly humiliated. We see her life in the after effects of that action. We introduce theme and set things in action by “calling the MC to action”, or reaction on her part. However, that isn’t the first plot point. Although the event is important, it comes too soon, and doesn’t deal directly with the main plotline of the book.

Next, we experience plot point #1the MC is at work and her friend who just happens to be a guy talks her into going out with his brother. This is where the MC can either accept or decline. However, she will accept the “blind date” because the story doesn’t move forward if she chooses not to. Plot point #1 brings us to the second part of the book.

Part two: Reactive stage—this is where the MC is going to be reacting to the first plot point and in my case the introduction of the theme. The MC is feeling confused. She thought for sure that the ex was “the one” and is feeling less than pretty and very imperfect—all reactions to the theme. She has a good time with the brother and that leaves her feeling confused too, wondering if her feelings for the ex weren’t true and whether she knows what she is thinking at all.

Pinch point #1 is where the reader is reminded of the plot and the opposing forces. The MC sees the ex with the new girl. It hurts more then she thought it would. Her first line of defense is her guy friend. He comforts her and makes her feel better.

The Mid-point is when things change. This point is often a place where the writer reveals information to the reader that opens up whole new possibilities. Sometimes the reader knows something that the MC doesn’t even know. My MC finds that she has feelings for both of the brothers. The guy friend finds that he has feelings for the MC too and hates that he has introduced her to his brother. By his “code,” he should back off and let the older brother have his chance with her. This “reaction” of both the MC and the guy leads us to part three.

Part three: Proactive stage—now the MC has moved from reacting to plot point #1 to being proactive and starting to do things to remedy the situation. My MC is watching both guys carefully and assessing her feeling for each of them. She makes opportunities to talk with the friend while still dating the brother.

Pinch point #2—Another crisis point in the story, edging up the pace and arc. The MC sees her friend with another girl and her jealousy flares.

Often times at this point, Brooks suggests that there is a “lull moment” where the characters think all is lost and there is no hope. This would be the MC going home eating a pint of ice cream and crying while watching some sappy love movies.

Plot point #2 comes at about [3/4s or] 4/5s of the way through the book. This is the huge crisis moment, the event that changes everything. After this point in time, no new characters or information may be allowed into the story. The MC is at Thanksgiving with the brother and has had a heated moment with the friend, who she thought wasn’t interested. The spark is still there and it is stronger. The brother proposes and she has to make a decision—to live a relatively happy life with a good guy, or take a chance with the friend and truly love someone. She says no and runs. The friend follows her at the brother’s request, oblivious to the attraction between them.

Part four, resolution—plot point #2 brings us massive change in the MC’s life. Now that everything has changed for my MC, she makes decisions that bring about resolution. She confesses her feelings and they finally kiss. They live happily ever after, or at least until the book ends.

What do you think? Does seeing the points of the story illustrated make the application a little clearer? How would you apply the structure to a romance?

About the author
C. Michelle Jefferies practically grew up in a library. When she was ten, she realized she wanted to write stories like the science fiction books she loved to read. A mother of six, she put her writing on the back burner while she focused on raising her young children. When her children were old enough for her to spend a few hours on the computer, without them burning the house down, she returned to writing and hasn’t stopped since. She blogs at My life in a laptop.

Photo credits: house frame—Robin Frousheger; concrete house—Concrete Forms

by Faye Hughes

Thanks, Jordan, for allowing me to join you on your blog today. It’s such a pleasure to be here.

I’m going to be talking about plotting a romance novel using the hero’s journey paradigm. Now, first, a disclaimer: This approach works for a lot of romance novelists but it may not work for you. We’re all individuals so we all approach the plotting process from a different viewpoint . . . and you know what? That’s just fine.

The hero’s journey is based on the work of screenwriter Christopher Vogler, whose book The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers was in turn based upon his interpretation of the archetypes described by Joseph Campbell in his seminal work on mythology, The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Romance author and lecturer Debra Dixon used Vogler’s interpretations in her fabulous—and when I say, “fabulous,” I mean you REALLY need to get a copy of this if you’re writing a romance novel—book, Goal, Motivation, and Conflict.

Basically, Vogler suggested that all fictional heroes—whether in a novel or a screenplay—would follow a similar path during the course of the story. When Vogler’s insights regarding the hero’s journey are applied to the traditional three-act paradigm for writing a romance novel, the result can flesh out the plot and give insight into character.

It can also ensure that you’ll avoid the saggy middle and other plot pitfalls.

The hero’s journey paradigm includes:

I. Act One

a. Ordinary World: The H/H (hero and heroine) are in their normal world before story begins.
b. Call to Adventure: The H/H learn of the problem, receive a challenge or the call to adventure that can lead to their romance.
c. Refusal of the Call: The hero or heroine (or both) refuses the call (due to their respective internal conflicts).
d. Meeting with the Mentor: The H/H meet with a mentor who offers advice or training.
e. Crossing the First Threshold: The H/H take the first step toward the romance (the first kiss, perhaps).

II. Act Two

a. Tests, Allies, Enemies: The H/H face and resolve their numerous non-primary conflicts and meet the secondary characters who will hinder or help them on their path to true love.
b. Approach to the Inmost Cave: The H/H encounter numerous obstacles while pursuing their primary goal (an HEA [Happily Ever After]).
c. Supreme Ordeal: A major plot point where an important secondary conflict seems to doom the romance (could also include the primary conflict peripherally, though not always).
d. Reward: The H/H overcome their secondary conflict.

III. Act Three

a. The Road Back: The H/H begin the return to their ordinary world, although the primary conflict is still unresolved.
b. Resurrection: The Dark Moment where the H/H face the loss of their romance and must use every lesson they have learned along their journey to resurrect their love.
c. Return with Elixir: The H/H return from their journey with the “elixir”—their HEA.

The reason I like using The Hero’s Journey paradigm for writing a romance is that it ensures we have all of the elements needed for a successful romance novel in our book.

One final thing, I’m offering a copy of mine and Christie’s book, The Everything Guide to Writing a Romance Novel, to one commenter, so please leave a comment. [Update: we have a winner, thanks everyone for commenting!]

Happy Writing!

About the author
Faye Hughes, a Mississippi native currently living in New York, is the award-winning author of seven highly-acclaimed novels of romantic fiction published by Bantam, Zebra and Meteor. Heralded as one of the rising stars of contemporary romantic fiction during the 1990s, Faye received two W.I.S.H. (Women In Search of a Hero) awards for her work from Romantic Times BOOKLovers Magazine. Two of her romance novels have been optioned for television movies. Her website is at www.FayeHughes.net. She and nonfiction co-author Christie Craig have a joint website at www.WritewithUs.net.

by Carol J. Garvin

If you were to ask, my family would tell you I have a thing for snowflakes. Childhood efforts to catch and melt them on my tongue evolved into a slightly out-of-control adult passion to amass the ultimate collection including jewelry, embroidered fabrics, candles and other home accessories. Every December we dangle giant snowflakes in our windows instead of wreaths and display a tree decorated entirely with a variety of snowflakes set aglow by tiny white twinkle lights.

It isn’t surprising, therefore, that the idea of a “snowflake” method of writing would appeal to me. Of course, if you’ve read any of my whining about outlines and plotting you might guess that I’d grasp at anything likely to improve my odds of producing a more organized manuscript.

I’ve never liked being tied to an outline so when Randy Ingermanson’s recommended Ten Steps of Design appeared to offer a less rigid approach I gave it a try.

The first step in the Snowflake approach required getting the essence of my story condensed into one sentence—always a challenge but something I was going to have to do sooner or later to answer the always-dreaded, “What’s your novel about?” question. The second step was to expand that one sentence into a short paragraph—once again a useful exercise that could later form the basis of a synopsis. I shirked somewhat on the third step that called for a full-page summary sheet for each of my characters and instead created summary paragraphs.

At this point my good intentions balked. The remaining steps had me spending too much time repeatedly going over the same ground in an effort to record information that I hadn’t yet created. I wasn’t developing a snowflake design so much as creating a daisy pattern, each step causing me to return to the centre fulcrum and trace ever-increasing loops.

All this building on the basics was meant to leave me with the story virtually complete and thus simplify the writing process. The theory is sound but for me it had the effect of capping the fountain of creativity and dragging me to a standstill.

I didn’t cease writing permanently, of course. I examined what had been working and analyzed why it no longer was. Just as Jordan suggested in her post on story architecture. I learned that what I need is to have a basic plan in place but with reassurance that I’m not locked into following its every detail. I need more flexibility than the true Snowflake Method allows. As a result, I adapted the steps for an abbreviated approach that helps create my initial building blocks and then keeps track of scenes and chapter content as I write.

If I have to backtrack occasionally to accommodate a new character or scene, that’s okay but usually I write straight through to the conclusion of a bare bones first draft. As I review and revise I add a succession of new layers of description and detail to flesh out the story, setting and characters.

Since I skip half the steps, what I’m doing doesn’t represent the true Snowflake Method but only a vague version of it. It has just five points (kind of like a star rather than a snowflake):

1. Create a one-sentence summary of the story.
2. Expand the one sentence into a paragraph that outlines the story basics.
3. Expand the paragraph into a page or two that introduces the main characters, the conflict, complications, and resolution. Include how the MC will change throughout the story (i.e., intended character arc).
4. Create a spreadsheet into which highlights of each chapter’s action will be inserted as the first draft is written.
5. Revise draft, adding details and description to enrich the writing.

I could be criticized for taking shortcuts and not giving the Snowflake Method a fair try but I’ve already admitted I need flexibility. My commitment to begin with that method didn’t extend to any kind of promise that I would stay with it. I truly believe each novelist must approach story building via whatever method works, however unique it might be. There is no one right way that will suit everyone. The only way to guarantee the successful completion of a novel is to keep writing and the smart novelist utilizes whatever tools it takes to reach that goal.

About the author
Carol J. Garvin, blogging at Careann’s Musings, is a freelance writer with articles in various Canadian magazines and publications. She lives in southwestern British Columbia and is a member of the Federation of BC Writers and the Langley Writers’ Guild. She has written a family memoir that is not meant for publication, and began writing novels ten years ago. She is on her third but so far none are ready to send out into the world quite yet . . . but soon. Besides writing, her other passions are her church and family, gardening, reading, music, painting and purebred dogs.