All posts by Jordan

Starting and ending the character arc

This entry is part 2 of 11 in the series character arcs

Character arcs are an important part of making any story satisfying. As we said yesterday, it’s as simple as making sure a character grows and changes throughout the course of the story. It’s important to remember that these changes, too, are most effective if they’re brought about by the external plot (more on that later).

Every character, and every character, has to start somewhere. We know that in the ordinary world, something is amiss—something is missing from the protagonist’s life. That doesn’t just mean a love interest or a murderer that needs to be brought to justice—there’s something deeper, on an emotional level, that the character needs.

That could be love or justice—or it could be forgiveness, healing, resolve, courage, wisdom, etc. (Alicia Rasley has a great list in her article “The Internal Journey.”) This is what they gain in the end— what the story events mean to the character.

This is another instance where knowing the end from the beginning really pays off—if you know what the character will end up with, you know set them up in the opposite place: if they need love, they start off lonely. If they need healing, they start off damaged; resolve, dissolute; courage, afraid; wisdom, naive.

This also works the other way around—if you have the flaw at the beginning, you can look for ways to “fix” it throughout the story events.

A major part of the “elixir” a hero returns with is this internal journey—the process of fixing what is wrong in his life. It’s what makes a book truly compelling, and something that we continue to contemplate beyond the basic events of the plot.

What do you think? How have you crafted your characters’ arcs? What are your favorite character arcs to read?

Photo by Richard Johnstone

Character arcs—what about ’em?

This entry is part 1 of 11 in the series character arcs

This week, I’m looking to cover an oft-mentioned, seldom-explained part of storytelling: character arcs.

character arcs vsmallIt’s easy to get caught up on the plotting and planning of a new story’s events that we don’t think as much about the characters. I’ve made a habit of getting started on a story’s events and in the middle, stopping to really think about how the characters are going to grow and change (I do get to know them well that way, though—fewer surprises from there on out).

I don’t think there’s a wrong way to implement a character arc, whether you plan them from the beginning, figure them out along the way, or add it all in edits. But there’s no denying that a character must grow and change along the way for the story to truly appeal to readers.

What do you think? How would you define a character arc? When do you think about your character arcs—or do you plan them at all?

Photo by Ruth and Dave

How does your critique group work?

I’m actually not looking for an assessment of your critique partners’ weaknesses and strengths 😉 . I’m wondering about the mechanics of critique groups. I recently joined a second online critique group, a brand new one just getting off the ground. We’ve kind of struggled to figure out how our new group was going to work.

The other group I’m a part of is well-established. Their mechanics were in place long before I joined. In fact, I didn’t join—I was admitted. You had to submit a sample chapter, a sample critique and a bio. If two or more members wanted to exchange critiques with you, you were in. Then, you exchanged critiques with the members who’d voted for your admittance, and any prospective members you voted for (if they got enough votes). So while we have some 20+ members (I think?), most people have only 2-4 others they’re actively critiquing.

That’s a good number—we’re never overwhelmed by how much work we have to do (even with four partners, I went weeks or months without having to crit or post anything), but we also get several sets of eyes to look at our work—but not so many that we get a lot of conflicting opinions. We also have access to lots of other writers for good advice, congratulations, and commiserating.

However, this established group, with its high entry requirements, requires that members have a certain level of expertise/experience/know-how. The new group is welcome to all comers (well, it was; we’re full now with around 10 active members). And as such, we were posting 30 pages each on the 5th and the 20th of each month (not everyone has posted every time).

That was kind of a lot—especially considering we’re all at different experience levels, and all needed different levels of critiques. So we’ve been searching for another method. We’ve settled on cutting back to 20 pages (or so) each, twice a month. On the one hand, that’s a little frustrating for me, because a 300-page book is going to take probably six months or more to critique. On the other hand, with so many people in the group, I don’t know that I could handle any more than that (especially since I’m still in the other group and behind there, too).

So I’ve been wondering—how does your critique group work? How often do you meet? How much do you critique at a time? How many members do you have?

And would you be interested in a series on critiquing? (At some point.)

On an unrelated note, if you’d like to win a free Kindle, you can check out this contest. But, um, don’t enter, so I can win, mmkay?

Picture by Nic McPhee

The dangers of breaking genre convention

A couple weeks ago I read devoured an award-winning mystery. (In the Woods by Tana French; it won the Edgar for Best First Novel.) I, personally, thought it was fantastic, and apparently so did the MWA (Publishers Weekly and Booklist also gave positive reviews).

inthewoodsBut not everyone agrees with us. The Amazon rating is 3 stars (oddly, very evenly distributed among each rating level); the GoodReads rating is about 3.5 stars.

There are several reasons for this, all thoroughly explained in long reviews, of course, but the most common complaint [SPOILER ALERT]: the book presents two mysteries, but never solves one of them.

This actually didn’t bother me. The book was about how the (present day) case ruined the protagonist’s life, and as his life unraveled, the story matched his psychological state. So in that sense, the ending was highly satisfying—it was completely appropriate to the book. (And the other mystery is solved, though not entirely “well.”)

But my point is: there’s no better way to upset the readers of a genre (especially ones like romance and mystery) by flouting the genre’s conventions.

What do you think? Have you seen books successfully flout the conventions of a genre?

A place for everything: showing vs. telling

Join one critique group and you’re sure to have someone point out an instance of telling in your writing with the admonishment: “SHOW DON’T TELL!

Now, I’m going to tell you right now: that’s quite often good advice. I’m not one for slavishly adhering to rules, but when I read a book that routinely tells me about what people are thinking rather than showing me that they’re thinking it, it drives me crazy. It’s like reading about a story rather than reading the story itself.

One common place I’ve come to focus on is showing vs. telling is in character’s emotions.

Bad telling:

She felt tired. She always felt tired. Every day, they had this meeting and she just wanted to sleep.

Better showing:

Her eyelids sagged, but Marie didn’t notice that she was falling asleep until her head began to droop. She jerked upright again with a quick glance around the boardroom. No one met her eyes—many were dozing themselves. The midafternoon stockholder report was always the most difficult time of day to focus, whether she’d gone to bed at two or ten.

But it had almost always been two.

Showing has the power to bring a reader more deeply into the story—making them live the experience rather than just read about it. Vivid details and description can do that.

BUT (and there’s almost always a but) there are exceptions to this rule. Sometimes, vivid descriptions and details get in the way of the story. Sometimes, telling is the way to go. (Gasp.)

I know, it’s horrific to even read. But every once in a while, something needs to be told. Good reasons to tell: the details aren’t significant, won’t add to the setting, slow down the story or get in the way of emotions.

Bad showing:

She stood among the racks of children’s clothing, but her eyes didn’t see the blue and yellow horizontal striped miniature polo shirts, or the pink polka dotted dresses with ruffled lace bloomers hanging on rack to her right. Nor the green, blue and orange plaid button downs, the purple beaded socks, the bedazzled jeans with magenta embroidery, the baby khakis with real zippers and buttoned pockets, in every size from preemie to 4T, folded on the shelves to her left.

What was her son doing now?

See the problem? Unless you’re trying to show us your POV character has an eidetic memory (300,000 word novel, anyone?), this level of detail probably isn’t necessary. In fact, showing the scene can be so time consuming that it drags on and becomes boring—and probably worst of all, it severely undercuts the emotional impact of the next line.

Better telling:

The bright colors and happy patterns of the children’s clothing department seemed to mock her pain, as if the miniaturized shirts and shorts could read her mind to see what she’d done, and taunt her for poor choices.

What was her son doing now?

In this case, we really don’t need to “see” every detail of the children’s clothes. Now, a better way to accomplish both might be for the character to actually handle the children’s clothes, noting the details (perhaps she’s a seamstress who appreciates clothing construction and patterns?), her thoughts slipping back to her son.

My favorite instance of confusion about showing and telling was prompted by a contest judge. She(?) marked the sentence “Sighing, Margaux pulled the hairpins from her hair” with “SHOW us the sigh.” (Note, too, that this was the only initial participial phrase in the chapter.) Well, okay:

Margaux’s thoracic diaphragm contracted, expanding her thoracic cavity and creating a vacuum in her lungs. Air at atmospheric pressure rushed in to fill her lungs. Once they were at optimal capacity, and a good proportion of the oxygen content had transpired into her bloodstream, Margaux reached the full depth of her frustration with her disheveled coif. She contracted her external intercostal muscles, audibly forcing a stream of air through her nostrils, and pulled the hairpins from her hair.

Clearly, sighing isn’t something that has to be shown like that. In fact, with some actions, simply using the verb is enough to show them.

Yes, yes, you’ll be told a million times “show, don’t tell” before you’re published, but really, telling has its (very limited!) place, too.

What do you think? Is there a place for telling as well as for showing? When do you use them?

Photo credits: shh!—Ann; shout—Maciek Łempicki

Share your best productivity tips!

Even if you’re not doing NaNo (like me), it’s always fun to share tips and techniques that can help us crank out more words in the time we have for writing. If you’re stuck, you can check out my article at Carol’s blog on beating writer’s block, but until then, here are some of my favorite tricks for upping my productivity:

flying fingers#1, first and foremost, most of all: sit down and write. Just do it. Whether you feel like it or not, whether you are inspired or not. I’m not one of those “if you’re ‘really’ a writer you must pound out 8000 words a day even if it’s like drawing blood from a stone using your eyelashes” people, but seriously, if you don’t sit down to write, it won’t get done.

Find out if you have an ideal writing time. This can be the time of day where you face the least disruptions or have the longest block of time to yourself. It may be the time that you get up four hours before everyone else in your house. For me, it’s usually staying up late (though lately my health has been preventing that for the most part. Stupid old health). Try different times of day to see if you have an easier time falling into the rhythm of writing.

Find out if you have an ideal place or medium for writing—in your house, local library, street-side café; with pen and paper, desktop, laptop, typewriter (please no, okay?); music, conversation, television or silence in the background. Experiment—and maybe you’ll also learn to write faster in places or media that aren’t your ideal, too.

Limit distractions—especially the Internet. This is one reason why I like using my laptop—I can push a button and voilà—no Internet. I usually research as I go, and this can be a huge time suck. I like when I realize I’ve spent ten minutes reading about the history of canned green beans when I’m supposed to be looking for train schedules from 80 years ago. Sometimes, you do really need to know the facts before you write a scene, at least to avoid a major rewrite—but not always. Determine if this is one of those times.

tapping pencilFinally, in case you’ve forgotten, I highly recommend plotting in advance. That way, you seldom spend three weeks pondering where your characters will go next and what they’ll do when they get there, and how on earth you’re going to spend 50,000 words getting from plot point 1 to plot point 2. (And also, we have a free PDF guide to plotting or the Plot Thickens blog series to help you out!)

Other things I like to do:

  • Menial activities (Minesweeper or Text Twist, usually) to try to lull my brain into creativity mode. (The challenge is not getting caught up in the games, of course.)
  • Think about my story all the freaking time—plan out scenes and dialogue in the car or the shower or before going to sleep at night (although that one makes it a lot harder to sleep).
  • Wait. I don’t start the first moment the idea comes to me, usually—I wait at least a couple days, sometimes a few weeks. During this time, I can brainstorm. As new scenes and characters and lines come to me, I get more and more excited about the story. When I finally let myself start, I can’t wait to get it all out.
  • Recognize my limitations. When I’m starting to hate the story, hate writing (every day, not just because I’m stuck), hate my characters and hate the real people around me for getting in the way of my career, it’s probably time to scale it back a little. Because, seriously, even if it’s NaNo, is it worth destroying your love (for life, writing and your family) just to get the words out? I’d rather back off than burn out—and make everyone around me resent my career, too.

What are your best productivity tips for upping our daily word count? What’s the most words you’ve ever written in a day/sitting?

Photo credits: tapping pencil—Tom St. George; flying fingers by The Hamster Factor

Free PDF guide for the Plot Thickens

This entry is part 21 of 24 in the series The plot thickens (Mwahahaha)

plotthickensOur blog series on plotting was well-timed to get us prepared for NaNo (even though I’m not participating).

Ready to review our whirlwind tour through the hows and whys of plotting, as well as several different methods? Good news—the free PDF of The Plot Thickens is ready!

I know several readers are doing NaNo, but many aren’t. Any votes on what we should look at next?

MacGuffins

macguffin generatorMacGuffins are plot devices that are meaningless in and of themselves. They only contribute to the plot by virtue of being there. They may be the object of the hero’s entire quest, and the whole world may be fighting over them, but really, the exact contents of the microfilm are seldom important. Heck, the photograph might even be destroyed before anyone sees it.

But selecting that Maltese falcon can be tough. I thought I needed one in my last WIP, but I could only find a sci-fi MacGuffin generator.

So I built one. And it’s fun, if I do say so myself.

What’s your MacGuffin? Go try out the MacGuffin generator today!

(Links, shares and retweets greatly appreciated—please direct them to the generator itself, located at http://jordanmccollum.com/links/macguffin-generator/ . There are also badges available on the page.)

Additions? Suggestions? Comments? Questions?

Photo credit: Aztec calendar—Nick Leonard