All posts by Jordan

Applying the Hero’s Journey

This entry is part 11 of 24 in the series The plot thickens (Mwahahaha)

The Hero’s Journey is one of the more useful plotting methods we’ve looked at so far, because of the specific nature of most of the steps. And I can say this from experience—I’ve used the Hero’s Journey (both Vogler’s and Jung’s versions) to plot at least six books. Of those, I’ve actually written two of them (one with Vogler’s outline and the other with Jung’s).

The Hero’s Journey is a fun method to use for plotting, because it gives a great structure that we instinctively recognize (since it’s based on archetypes from fairy tales and all those myths we had to study in high school). It has some very specific steps to follow, so you have clear suggestions on the types of events to include.

However, sometimes I’ve been disappointed by the Hero’s Journey as a plotting method—when I expect to look at a list of steps and magically have the list tell me exactly how I should handle each of those scenes. That’s not really what it’s for—we still have to use our imagination.

And, as with all plotting methods, we have to be flexible. Not all books require all steps. A murder mystery, for example, may open after the hero has finally accepted the call—when he arrives on the crime scene. He may have another call to adventure, though—something that makes the case personal, if it isn’t already. And, of course, in writing, we have to stay flexible, too. My Hero’s Journey outlines bear only a passing resemblance to the finished products—in fact, I’m not totally sure I even have all the steps left in the manuscripts.

Sometimes it’s tough to see how the Hero’s Journey applies to different genres. Like I said, sometimes in mysteries, we jump in in the middle of the Journey. At Annette’s presentation a few months ago, someone asked about applying the Hero’s Journey to a romance. I was actually convinced to use the Hero’s Journey by The Everything Guide to Writing a Romance Novel, which I won on the Romance Writers’ Revenge blog—and tomorrow, we’ll have co-author Faye Hughes here to discuss how the Hero’s Journey plays out in a romance!

Now the Hero’s Journey is one of my favorite methods of plotting. Have you used the Hero’s Journey? How have you seen it applied in your works or in others’?

Image credit: Svilen Mushkatov

Archetypal characters in the Hero’s Journey

This entry is part 13 of 24 in the series The plot thickens (Mwahahaha)

Checking out archetypal characters to help with planning a novel? Be sure to join my newsletter for a FREE plotting/revision roadmap, and check out the full series on plotting novels in a free PDF!

As I mentioned yesterday, the Hero’s Journey started with Joseph Campbell looking at heroes across mythology. He found that not only do heroes have a lot in common, but so do other roles in their stories. Again, Christopher Vogler adapted this for writers in The Writer’s Journey, so we’ll be using his terminology.

The Hero is our protagonist. The audience identifies with him (or her). He grows in the course of the story, and is involved in most of the action. He has a character flaw, of course (if he were perfect, could he grow? And would he be interesting?) This flaw is often the flipside of his biggest strength—his optimism means he has false hope, love of family means he won’t sacrifice his dad’s to save the world, etc. But he must be willing to sacrifice when we get to that climactic point of the story.

The first archetypal character he usually meets is the Herald, the character who issues the call to adventure. His challenge announces a coming change, that all is not well in the Ordinary World. He also gives the Hero motivation to go on the adventure.

The Herald doesn’t have to actually be a person—in Lord of the Rings, it’s the ring; in Harry Potter, it’s the letters; in Star Wars: A New Hope, it’s Luke’s aunt & uncle dying. (You could try to argue it’s meeting R2-D2, but remember that R2 bore a message for someone else).

He usually has a Mentor who teaches him. Often, the Mentor gives him a useful gift as well as motivates the hero into accepting the call. (Technically, the mentor doesn’t have to be a person either—and I don’t just mean disembodied voices and Force ghosts, either. It can be anything that teaches the Hero and prepares him for the coming tests.)

Along the way, the Hero encounters Threshold Guardians who block his path. These obstacles are tests for the Hero—have his skills developed enough? The guardians may be working for the good side or the bad side, or no one at all (but it’s hard to make someone who makes trouble for his own sake believable for very long, you know?)

The Trickster is often a sidekick. He often balances the drama with comic relief and brings things into perspective.

The Shape-Shifter can be his or her own character—or it can be combined with another character type. As the name states, he’s not what he appears to be. Revealing his “real” self can create big change in the story—but they may or may not be evil. They may switch sides, but they may become good. In fact, in a romance, the romantic leads are often Shape-Shifters because they must change to enter into a relationship. (Heck, even the Hero might be a Shape-Shifter, since he has to learn and grow throughout the course of the story.)

The Hero may encounter a rival—someone who’s competing for an intermediary goal, or the girl, etc. But it’s the Shadow that is the true villain. He tests the Hero’s true abilities and worthiness, and forces the Hero to rise to the challenge. He’s often a shape-shifter, appearing beautiful, elegant or good.

Added by Iapetus999 (Andrew) in the comments:
The Ally (AKA the Sidekick, the Best Friend, the Brother-in-Arms, the Faithful Companion, the Loyal Troops, the Partner in Crime (or do-gooding), the Guardian Angel, the Band of Brothers, the Knight in Shining Armor, the Merry Men, the Faithful Steed…) The Ally is a person the Hero trusts. He’s someone the Hero can turn to when the chips are down, to provide him with wisdom, to provide him with humor or a shoulder to lean on, to lend him an ear, to prepare him for battle, to do all the little and big things a Hero can’t do for himself. He may be too tired from the fight, too engaged with the enemy, or just on a pig-headed mission, so the Ally needs to watch his back. We can’t all be Heroes, but we can all be Allies.

And nothing is complete without a few examples, right?

  Harry Potter Star Wars IV-VI
Hero Harry Luke
Shadow Voldemort Darth Vader
Mentor Hagrid, Dumbledore       Obi-Wan
Herald Letters the deaths of Beru and Owen
Shape shifters Literally: McGonagall Leia, Vader/Anakin, Obi-Wan
Trickster Fred & George Han, C3PO, R2-D2
Threshold Guardians      Neville, Fluffy Stormtroopers
Ally Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley Han Solo, Princess Leia, and the Droids

What do you think? How do you see these archetypal characters, either in others’ works or your own?

Image credits: superhero—Stefanie L.; shadow—Michal Zacharzewski

A quick overview of the Hero’s Journey

This entry is part 12 of 24 in the series The plot thickens (Mwahahaha)

Planning out a novel? Be sure to join my newsletter for a FREE plotting/revision roadmap, and check out the full series on plotting novels in a free PDF!

Over the last two weeks, we’ve looked at two plotting methods. One helped us parse our story into parts, the other helped us grow it from an idea. But a weakness of both is that neither really tells us what kind of events we need in a story—especially in the sagging middle.

The Hero’s Journey is based on the universal archetype work of Carl Jung, as applied by Joseph Campbell. Campbell studied myths, legends and tales from around the world, and observed that most of the stories followed a similar pattern. However, it was Christopher Vogler that applied the Hero’s Journey to writing (and film) technique and story structure in The Writer’s Journey.

I first learned about the hero’s journey in high school. We had this really cool interactive website—man, I wish I still had the URL . . . what? Why are you looking at me that way? Yes, we had interactive websites when I was in high school. This was like ten years ago. You’re just jealous.

Ahem. Anyway. Since then, I’ve come across the hero’s journey . . . oh, a million times. The bulk of this post actually comes from my notes from the most recent encounter, a presentation by Annette Lyon to the local League of Utah Writers chapter in April June (I’m good with calendars). While there are a full seventeen stages of Campbell’s journey, Vogler reduces the steps to the twelve here.

The Hero’s Journey

The story begins in The Ordinary World. Here, of course, we meet the hero and his problems. This is how we can introduce the story question—the protagonist’s underlying quest (Can heroine find her place in the world? Can hero mend his bitter, broken heart? Can Jimmy save his grandpa’s farm?). The story question and the ordinary world may foreshadow the story world—three words: Wizard of Oz.

Then comes the Call to Adventure. A herald arrives, announcing the change. (I just watched Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone again this weekend, and the call is super obvious there, yes?) The hero must act—it’s not an open-ended kind of catchall cast call. In some cases, a “we need someone who has X, Y and Z characteristics” might work, but we often see more of a “We need YOU” call.

Normally, the hero isn’t interested. Obviously, this is going to be hard work, and maybe I don’t want to find my place in the world/mend my heart/save the farm that badly. This is the Refusal of the Call.

Fear doesn’t have to be the only reason for refusal—he may also have noble reasons, or perhaps other characters are preventing him from leaving (on purpose or inadvertently). Again, this is HP1—his aunt and uncle refuse to let him even open the letter, and whisk him off to some rocky outcropping.

Sometimes it takes a mentor to get the hero on the right path. So next we have the Meeting with the Mentor. (This can also take place after the hero has committed to the adventure, or kind of concurrently . . . anyway.) This gets the hero (and the story) moving again. The mentor often provides hero with training and/or an object that will help in the quest.

Now we’re ready for Crossing the First Threshold. This is where the hero leaves the Ordinary World and enters the New, Special Story World. (Again, this is dramatized well in The Wizard of Oz—literally in Technicolor—but lots of movies actually have big cues for this transition—change in tempo, location, lighting, music, etc.). This is where our hero faces his first test, the first challenge to his commitment. Life will never be the same once the hero passes the threshold.

The bulk of the story comes in the Tests, Allies and Enemies phase. Here, the hero adjusts to the New World, often with tests of skill. He meets lots of people and has to determine whether they’re allies or enemies. In these sections, we see groups coming together and people gathering. The hero picks up his sidekicks and possibly a rival. In HP1, this is everything from the Hogwarts Express to the sorting, and then all the inner skirmishes the kids face.

Then things start to get serious with the Approach to the Inmost Cave (can’t you just hear a booming, echoing voice?). This is the first of two big, final tests—it’s preparatory to the final test, though sometimes the character thinks it’s the final test. However, this will only prepare him for a later Ordeal.

In the Inmost Cave, we often run into illusions and characters who determine the hero’s worthiness. The hero must use what he’s learned so far to get through, and sometimes he enters a new Special World. In the original Star Wars trilogy, this is most obvious when Luke actually goes into a cave to confront an illusion of Darth Vader. In Harry Potter, Harry, Ron and Hermione have to use what they’ve learned to get past Fluffy, the deadly vines, the swarm of keys and the living chess set.

These ordeals strip the hero of his friends, leaving him alone for the final Ordeal. But since that’s kind of heavy, there’s often a break here—some comic relief, a campfire scene (or this can be after the Ordeal). This can also be a scene where they think they’ve won—and then they find out there’s just one more “little” problem.

The Ordeal. This may be the climax. It’s a “final exam” for the hero to show off his newly-gained knowledge. Here he battles the real villain (not to be confused with the rival, who is so trivial now), and faces his greatest fears. The hero has to be willing to sacrifice something huge and/or die here.

But it all pays off, because next he gets to seize the sword—he gets The Reward. The hero captures or finds the Elixir—an actual treasure, some treasure of knowledge—or accomplishes the point of the quest. Now we can celebrate (another good place for a campfire scene).

Here, the hero has an epiphany—he understands something new about himself. He’s grown, and that itself might be the Elixir.

In an action-oriented story, or a story that Will. Never. End. (Make! It! Stop!), we come next to The Road Back. The hero heads back to the Ordinary World with the Elixir. The Villain comes back (I’ve heard this referred to as always having to slay the dragon twice).

Now, we have the Resurrection, which is often the climax. This is the biggest ordeal of all, something that pushes him to the limit. Remember that after the Ordeal, the hero realized he was changed. Here, we get to see that change in action. What part of himself did he sacrifice or lose? If this is the climax, then this is where the hero finally triumphs over evil once and for all, he vanquishes the Villain and the Villain is changed forever.

And we get back on the road back to home for our triumphal Return with the Elixir. Here we have the denouement. Characters receive their rewards or punishments. We wrap up all the loose threads—but a surprise or two in here is always fun!

After this, though, the hero may leave because with the Elixir, he no longer belongs in the Ordinary World. Frodo is the classic example of this.

Naturally, as Campbell also examined characters, we’ll take a look at archetypal characters in the hero’s journey tomorrow.

Want to go more in-depth in the Hero’s Journey? Check out Andrew Rosenberg’s (Iapetus999) current blog series!

What do you think? Can you see the Hero’s Journey in popular books and movies today? How about your own work?

Pros and cons of the Snowflake Method

This entry is part 10 of 24 in the series The plot thickens (Mwahahaha)

Planning out a novel? Be sure to join my newsletter for a FREE plotting/revision roadmap, and check out the full series on plotting novels in a free PDF!

The Snowflake Method of story design is just one way to create a plot—but it’s not the best way, nor is it even a good way for all of us. (And we’ll continue to look at more methods to plot stories over the next two weeks.) We’ve already seen how Carol adapted the Snowflake Method to suit her needs as a writer, using its strengths for her and discarding its potential weaknesses. So what are the potential strengths and weaknesses of the Snowflake Method, so we can do this for ourselves?

Pros

After spending so much time refining them and writing about them, you get to know your characters and your plot well. Really well. Before you even write one word of your story, you have pages and pages of information on the characters, their backgrounds, how they see the story unfolding. You know the events, the sequence, the logic there.

Another strength is that you can start with almost nothing and “grow” a plot “naturally.” If you start with just the most basic idea—say, National Treasure for the Amish or something ;)—you can develop your characters and your plot.

Also, the method’s steps alternate between working on characters and on the plot, ensuring that you develop both—but that you don’t have to spend so long working straight on each one that you get bored.

Simply put, if you like to know as much as you can about a book before you start writing, this can be a great way to discover your characters and their storylines.

Cons

On the other hand, using this method can lead to analysis paralysis—you can spend so long trying to perfect your outline and your character profiles that you never actually get around to writing anything.

Or, somewhat conversely, if you go through the first nine steps of this method, for some writers that level of detail in planning can sap the fun out of writing. For all the writers I know, the joy of the journey of writing is in discovery, and if you’ve made all your discoveries before you start writing, sometimes there’s nothing left to motivate you to write on.

And I can say this from experience. Yes, while I am a fully converted pantser, I forgot to mention that my first attempts at plotting almost put me off the practice forever. I used the Snowflake Method to plot two books in between my second and third completed manuscripts. I managed to slog through fourteen pages of notes, outlines and character profiles (through step six) before I let myself get to actually writing.

And it wasn’t any fun. It was an intense struggle to get out a mediocre first chapter. (I’m okay with mediocre first chapters in first drafts, of course, but for the amount of effort made it at least mediocre—well, if I didn’t enjoy writing it, why would I believe anyone would enjoy reading it?) Although I loved and still do love the idea, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to write that book now.

(Luckily, I’ve tried a few other methods with more success, which we’ll get to next week.)

Lastly, like the act structure, the Snowflake Method doesn’t give a whole lot of direction for the actual events. I sometimes turn to plotting hoping that I’ll find a plotting method that will tell me exactly what I should have my characters do next. Yeah, not so much.

But beyond “three disasters and an ending,” there’s very little direction in the Snowflake Method on how to get from A to B. There’s just not much in the way of actual structure for a story. Next week, we’ll start looking at methods with a little more guidance on what kind of events and disasters we should have to help craft compelling, non-rambling stories that move along with purpose toward our goal.

What do you think? What other strengths and weaknesses do you see in the Snowflake Method? Have you tried it?

Photo credits: growing plants—Daniel Greene; writer’s block—Jonno Witts

A quick look at the Snowflake Method

This entry is part 8 of 24 in the series The plot thickens (Mwahahaha)

Planning out a novel? Be sure to join my newsletter for a FREE plotting/revision roadmap, and check out the full series on plotting novels in a free PDF!

The Snowflake Method is the second plotting method we’re going to look at. Well, creator Randy Ingermanson might not call is a “plotting method”—he’d probably prefer to describe it as a “design method.”

Good stories, he says, come from good design. (It can certainly make them easier to write!) So Randy came up with a way to design and even write a story from a high-level, hook-type idea to a full novel in ten steps. This way, you can identify a “broken” story before you begin—and build yourself a better one.

Before you freak out because you’ve found the new-improved-easy way to plot a story, let me insert here that they’re not easy steps—step 10, for example, is to write the novel. Oy.

We’re going to take a quick look at the method so we’re all on common ground—but do note that the full Snowflake Method article adds much more detail to these steps.

Let’s start at the beginning—the idea. Sum up your idea in one sentence, preferably of less than fifteen words. No, seriously.

Don’t worry about fitting the whole story in there. Just hit the set up (or the hero or the villain) and one or two major points. Randy suggests using the one-line blurbs from the NYT Bestseller list as an example. And we will, too:

The murder of a curator at the Louvre leads to a trail of clues found in the work of Leonardo and to the discovery of a centuries-old secret society.

In step two, we take this sentence and expand it into a paragraph, with, as Randy says, “three disasters plus an ending.” One sentence per act, if you will (I guess that’d be a five-act structure).

Uh . . . okay, it’s been a couple years since I read The Da Vinci Code, but I think it might go like this:

A curator at the Louvre is murdered and his [hot] granddaughter and a [dowdy*] religious symbologist are called to investigate. They find a trail of clues pointing toward a secret society and the Holy Grail, but the police are pursuing them. Following the clues, they flee the country with the aid of the symbologist’s friend and mentor. The friend and mentor betrays them and tries to force them to reveal the location of the Holy Grail. He is arrested and they discover that the hot granddaughter is a lineal descendant of Jesus Christ—the Holy Grail.

*No offense to Hanks, but seriously, I had a short, balding professor in mind as I read. Yeah, that’s not what Brown described. So sue me.

In step three, we leave off with our plot summary and come to focus on our characters. They’re important too, you know. The major characters each get a summary page here on their motivations, goals and characteristics. (Forgive me if we don’t do that here.)

tapping pencilIn step four, we come back to our plot summary and expand each sentence from that paragraph into a paragraph of its own, making the summary roughly a page, too.

Now we’re going back to the characters—step five is to write the plot summary from the POV of each big character—and yes, the plot summary should differ among them—most especially between the hero(es) and the villain(s), but also, in, say, a romance, the hero and the heroine will have a very different perspective on events.

Really, these summaries are as much about the characters themselves—their reactions, perceptions, motivations, interpretations, etc.—as they are about the events of the novel. Major characters’ plot summaries should take a page; minors get half a page.

Guess where we’re going now? Yep, hopping back to the plot summary—now we’re going to make that one-page synopsis into a four-page synopsis. Again, it’s basically making the sentences from the last go-round into paragraphs and the paragraphs into pages.

Step seven takes us back to the characters (you knew that, didn’t you?). Now we’re making their pages into character charts (which you know I’m pretty meh about). Says Randy, the most important aspect to these charts will be to answer the question “How will this character change by the end of the novel?

For step eight we head back to our plot synopsis and make a list of scenes for the novel. The whole novel. (Now that is outlining!) In this step, we focus on just the basic facts—events, POV, locations. Step nine is along the same vein (fooled you there, didn’t I?!)—a narrative summary of each scene, with all the good dialogue and descriptions and tidbits that our doubtlessly floating around in your head now. (This step is optional, Randy says.)

As I mentioned before, step 10 is “write the novel.”

As you move through the steps, of course, you’re free (and even encouraged) to revise previous steps’ work. As always, we have to be flexible to new developments—ready to add a dining room if we find the perfect chandelier 😉 .

So, you’re wondering, what’s with the name? The name comes from a simple fractal. You start with a triangle, then replace each straight line with a line with a peak: _/\_ . Star of David. Do it again. More complex, semi-snowflakey thing. Repeat. Even more complex snowflake.

What do you think? Could you take a story from an idea to a novel (or outline) like this? What strengths or weaknesses do you see?

Photo credits: snowflake—Julie Falk; tapping pencil—Tom St. George; fractal wrongness—the mad LOLscientist

Creating Compelling Villains – Stephanie Black – The Book Academy

We’re still on break from our series on plotting to bring you notes from The Book Academy, a conference I attended last week. We’ll pick up with plotting tomorrow—including a guest post later this week!

In suspense, you have to have a villain. You have to have a person who is fighting against a protagonist.

Exercise #1—Write down a villain who stands out on some level to you—and why

Class answers:

  • President Snow from Hunger Games? Description—smells like roses and blood
  • Hannibal Lecter—creepy, without morals
  • Brilliant manipulator
  • Gollum—obsessed, internal conflict
  • Darth Vader—layered, conflicted, simple appearance, memorable, willing to do what it takes to get his way
  • Nicholas Nickleby’s villain—Heartless, but there’s a moment in his past where he chose darkness
  • Voldemort
  • Javert—thinks he’s good, convinced of morality
  • Joker—flair for dramatic, feel emotional connection as killing, loved that connection
  • Clooney the scourge from Redwall—legend of fearsomeness, backs it up, crazy
  • Oliver Twist villain—utter disregard for reader’s sympathies
  • David Copperfield villains—bad, love to hate

black stetson“You have a choice when you’re going to introduce a very evil character. You can dress a guy up with loads of ammunition, put a black Stetson on him, and say, ‘Bad guy. Shoot him.’ I’m writing about shades of evil. You have Voldemort, a raging psychopath, devoid of the normal human responses to other people’s suffering, and there are people like that in the world. But then you have Wormtail, who out of cowardice will stand in the shadow of the strongest person.” —JK Rowling

How compelling your villain is doesn’t depend on how creepy and freaky he is, but that he seems real to your protagonist, and as real as your protagonist to your reader. They must also fit your story. A cozy mystery probably doesn’t need Voldemort. A global thriller probably wouldn’t be very thrilling with the biddies from Arsenic and Old Lace.

We can also have multiple villains in same novel with multiple levels of villainy:

  • Voldemort
  • Bellatrix LaStrange
  • Peter Pettigrew/Wormtail
  • Draco Malfoy
  • Severus Snape

Hints for creating villainous characters

In suspense fiction, plenty of people are causing trouble for your villain, but pick a primary villain. Find the main antagonist. Who’s your big guy? In mysteries, think about who this fight is really between.

Jack Bickham talks about how you must know whose story it is. (In her first novel, 250 single-spaced pages into it, she realized her story was going off in 3 different directions—she turned to Bickham). Don’t forget whose story it is. Who are we behind? Who are we rooting for? Who is our ball team?

On the flip side, whose story is this villainwise? Your protagonist has a story goal, something he wants from the beginning of the book. It’s important to him, important enough to fight for. It gives readers something to worry about (which is why they like reading mysteries in the first place). When you read a book with a story goal, you immediately start asking yourself story questions. Frodo must destroy the ring—will Frodo be able to destroy the ring?

In addition to your protagonist, your villain also needs to be goal-driven. He’s got something that he wants. When you’re picking a villain, you want it to be someone who will win or lose big depending on how the story plays out, just like the protagonist has a lot invested in whatever s/he is seeking. Winning and losing—if one wins, the other must lose.

Creating conflict in your novel

The last thing you want to do is give your protagonist an easy ride. Give him as much trouble as possible. If you answer the story question too quickly with a positive, the story’s over.

Shortest stories ever:

He always wanted her. And he got her.

She had to escape. And she did.

These complications are largely the job of the villain.

  1. Pick a good, strong primary villain. Someone who can really go head to head with the protagonist.
  2. Villain’s goal must clash with protagonist’s goal—so give one a goal and find a contrary goal for the other. This isn’t necessarily a direct opposition. Her current novel—protagonist’s story goal: heal the rift between her parents and her brother. This clashes with villain’s goal not because villain is set on destroying their family. His goal is to conceal a crime in his past (by killing someone and framing someone else—her brother). (Being accused of murder doesn’t sit real well with her parents, “who are strangely traditional in that way.”)

wicked queen from snow white

  • What does my villain want?! What is important to him/her? A really compelling villain isn’t evil for evil’s sake or because he’s got the laugh down. Chances are he doesn’t think he’s evil. He’s got a reason for everything. Jack Bickham: Self-concept. Inside, we all have a mental picture of who we are, our opinions of ourselves. We try hard to maintain consonance with this inward picture and we will fight to hold onto it when this picture is challenged. Hard to identify it for ourselves. What does the villain think of himself?
  • Usually villains are twisted on some level—his self-concept may be very different from how others view him. Ex: Zero in The Believer—he sees himself as someone who by virtue of lineage/intelligence, he has the right and responsibility to take over for the good of the nation. Doesn’t see himself as evil (though readers and other characters do). Villain in Fool Me Twice sees herself as a good mother. Have this in mind even if it doesn’t make it into print (especially if not in their POV).

Exercise #2—Write down a self-concept for a villain (one you’re working on)

Class responses:

  • Believes he should be a leader
  • Doesn’t believe in right/wrong
  • Humanity has outlived its purpose, cleanse the world of this scourge
  • (Possessed) Dark spirit protecting itself—self-preservation
  • Religion—convinced of his own moral righteousness
  • Sees the world crumbling around him—protect what he has and his fam
  • Get justice for the wrongs he’s suffered (victim)
  • Sees himself as a good guy
  • The best at what he does and he knows it, and gets away with what he wants b/c people are scared of him—devolves into fatal stalking situation

Your main villain (amidst others if you desire)

  1. Give your villain some shading—make them somewhat sympathetic. Use their backstory, events taking place before the present of the story. What’s their history? Make villain more rounded, even if you don’t get it all in there.

darth vaderEx: Voldemort—what makes you sympathize with him a little: Abandoned, orphan, stuck out, teased. Doesn’t justify his actions, but helps us to see him as a little more human. What might make the reader relate to him a little bit? See him as a little sympathetic?

Ex: Darth Vader in episodes I-III—starts out as a good guy, through his flaws and downfall, he loses everything that he valued, then becomes a dark evil person.

Give them a little bit of good. Zero—loves his wife, affectionate toward her, wants to please her. Even villainous types aren’t totally detestable. What about them can we admire?

Exercise #3—with the last villain, write down something good/admirable about your villain or something in his/her past that might make him sympathetic

Class responses:

  • (#5 above)—his parents disgusted at his parents, humans butcher his kind—thinks humans are no good
  • (#6 above)—Mother deprived of rightful throne
  • can’t die
  • Wants to be a pillar of the community—wants to look good—funds schools
  • Didn’t choose to be an addict
  • Weakness/soft spot for kids.
  • Hates weakness, but wants help people become better, lose their weaknesses

[Side note on this one: this is especially effective when you can combine this with their self-concept and have it directly relevant to their villany. For example, Snape is mean to Harry because in Harry he sees the image of the man who used to taunt him and destroy his self-concept. It wouldn’t make much sense if James Potter were mean to Snape and Snape took it out on long-haul truck drivers.]

Round them out with regular traits (neither sympathetic nor evil).

We have to branch out a bit. As you’re creating a protagonist, you want to create a fresh, compelling invidividual character with his own personality—same for his villain. [A good villain makes a good protagonist even stronger, and vice versa.]

  1. Three necessary attributes for principle villain:
    • Strong
    • Smart
    • Determined

He must be matched against the hero—a worthy opponent. Make him a worthy opponent—a battle with a wimp isn’t much of a battle. Your protagonist must stretch himself to defeat this guy. Doesn’t always mean villain is physically strong—psychologically, emotionally, mentally—a formidable opponent. He’s determined—what he wants, he must want it badly enough to not give up.

Bickham(?)—make sure your protagonist doesn’t quit and making it logical that he doesn’t quit. Ask yourself “Why doesn’t he just quit?”—compelling motivation to keep him going, keep fighting even when things get really rough. Villain who’s willing to keep battling to the end—don’t go all fuzzy at the end. Maybe pretend to, but don’t just give up!! [That’s just unsatisfying!]

He doesn’t have to be invincible—you do want him defeated at the end. Suspense/thriller/mystery—must end with good triumphing over evil! Have him defeated in some measure by the protagonist.

Ex: woman pursuing bad guy to get her kidnapped kids back. Fight scene, villain pulls weapon about to use it—struck by lightning. [Unsatisfying again!]

Don’t have him defeated by wimpiness, giving up (himself), deus ex machina.

  1. Give your villain believable flaws and weaknesses. It’s okay if he makes mistakes—but make sure they’re credible mistakes. Something believable, credible for his character. His flaws may spring from his self-concept—thinks he’s so smart, he’s proud—underestimates protagonist.

Ex in The Believer—a reader for her publisher asked if her villain’s monologuing was believable? But according to his motivation, yes—if he’s so proud of himself and his win, he might monologue, to utterly devastate the hero. (And because he tells his plan, the protagonist can defeat him.)

  1. Give your villain a character arc—let him change throughout the course of the story. How does he grow and change? Don’t make him the same person on the last page as he was on page one.
    Ex: one of her villain starts off not so bad, kind of mischievous, but by the end of the book she’s ready to kill.

Conclusion: You create compelling villains the same way you create compelling protagonists:

Make them real, make them rounded, give them a compelling story goal and believable flaws and weaknesses.

About the presenter
Stephanie Black is the author of The Believer, Fool Me Twice (winner of the 2008 Whitney Award for Best Mystery/Suspense) and the new release Methods of Madness. She. Is. Awesome. As per conference guidelines, I obtained written consent from Stephanie to blog the content of her presentation.

What do you think? What are your answers to the exercises? Who are your villains?

Photo credits: black cowboy hat—arbyreed; Wicked Queen—Loren Javier; Darth Vader—the Official Star Wars Blog; Villains—Anne the Librarian

How to get out of the slush pile – Lisa Mangum – The Book Academy

We interrupt our series on plotting to bring you notes from The Book Academy, a conference I attended last week. We’ll pick up with plotting—including a guest post—later this week!

In a lot of ways you’re already doing the right things, but a little extra polish can make a big difference.

Sometimes you find slush pile gems—her company found Jason Wright in the slush pile (and he became a NYT bestseller). Everybody’s a first time author at some point in his/her career.

5 things you can’t control about submitting your MS

  1. Publishing is a business. We need a book that will sell.
  2. How many other MSs submitted in a given year.
  3. How many slots the publisher has available for new writers.
  4. Other MSs submitted that are like yours [oh the agony]
  5. Editor’s mood—they have bad days, too. It’s not personal.

Writing is a personal expression—you have a story that’s in you and you’re writing it down.
Buying books is an emotional decision, based heavily on the cover and back cover copy. Editors are the same when they buy books for their companies—cover letter = cover copy. Cover letter might be most important page in whole submission—give them an emotional investment in what we have to say.

paper_pileHer employer, Deseret Book, gets a good amount of submissions—last year, the received 1700 manuscripts. They published 12 of those from the slush pile. Odds don’t sound good—but of those 1700, they only seriously considered 100-150. Others: wrong place, copy cats, not very good. [For you not-so-math-whizzes, they published <1% of the slush pile, but at most 9% of the slush pile was even publishable. Of the publishable works, they published 8-12%.)

Deseret Book does, on average, 150-160 products a year—books (fiction, nonfiction, adult/ya/kids), audio, music, backlist reprints. Every year, they want Christmas books, mysteries, picture books—the door is always open, try again next year. (Right now they’re slotting for Late Summer 2010-Early 2011).

Why do they reject MSs? It’s not personal—there are plenty of other reasons. For example, a phenomenon she calls “There’s something in the water”—manuscript submission trends—they once received 4 commentaries on Revelations in the same month. They could only publish one, so while all four were good, they had to pick the best one and reject the other three.

Usually by the time a trend is IDed, it’s waning (b/c they work so far in advance). Don’t be the next Dan Brown/Stephenie Meyer—be the first you. Start the trend. That does mean taking a risk for the publisher (is this new b/c people aren’t buying it or b/c it just hasn’t been done before?)

5 things you CAN control about submitting your MS to make a BIG difference:

  1. Do your homework
  2. Follow guidelines
  3. Write a killer cover letter
  4. Show case your talent
  5. Deal with rejection letters

Yes, there is homework—this isn’t just a glamorous lifestyle, LOL. Here’s your assignment:
Six Q you should ask about your own MS/submissions before sending out:

  1. Am I even in the right slush pile? Sending it to the publisher where it will have the best chance to shine?
  2. Who’s going to buy my book? Audience in mind as writing—YA fiction, mystery, w/e—help by presenting market in cover letter (NOT 8-80 year olds)
  3. How is your book different? Not “just like” X or “the next” Y—how is it different, better? Use touchstones as shorthand. Be clear about what’s special about your book. What is it about your book that will make it so your book will rise to the top of the charts? Why will they BUY it?
  4. What are people buying? Know what the market is doing, but don’t follow/copy it—knife edge. Know what the trends are and what people are buying and how much people are buying. Right now, how many people have disposable income to buy books? (Paperbacks, digital, etc.)
  5. What is your marketing plan? Get the book off the shelf and into someone’s hand and money in the register. The publisher might not have a large marketing budget for your book—how will you get the word out to get your book sold? Know where your connections are, who you can talk to, who you can bring on board.
  6. Have I let 5 honest people give me feedback? Is your Mom really going to say that she hated it? If so, then you can have confidence that you’ll jump to the front of the line, having gotten rid of many mistakes.

It’s so much easier if she doesn’t have to work to read it—she’s more likely to read it! Guidelines are there for a reason—know if your MS is in the right slush pile, how not to put editor in a bad mood, to whom you should direct the MS, idea of the wait, how that company works—free cheat sheet or “get out of jail free cards.”

The first impression in hard copy submission (which they prefer) is the envelope. Include complete name and address including ZIP code (don’t make her work to find you!!). Did the author use the right size envelope or is it jammed in there, and duct taped up to hold it together? Have you included the correct size SASE? Always nice to at least include a letter size (size 10) envelope. Most publishers don’t write comments on your MS, so you can ask for it back if you include an-appropriate size envelope. Immediate, easy way to get back in touch with you.

Most important page in your submission package:

THE COVER LETTER

Publishers/editors will make a decision on a cover letter the same way you make a decision on back cover

  • Business letter
  • Not too intimate
  • Simple
  • Formal
  • Professional
  • Representing a product as a business
  • Tell me who you are (complete contact information)
  • Tell me what you’re selling—write your very own back cover blurb—make me buy your book!
  • A good MS deserves a good title. Most publishers will change your title, so don’t stress too much over it, but a kind of dumb title is better than UNTITLED. Titles can change, but having something makes it easier for them to talk about it, ID it in the office.
  • Back cover blurb—can you sum up your book in one sentence? What’s your tag line? What’s your log line?
  • Why should we buy it? Why should we do business with you? Are you famous? Have you written a really great book? Is it a book we’ve never seen before? Does it fill a niche? Why out of all the books we’ve seen should we pick yours?—short bio, what writing awards you’ve won, how serious you are about your craft, not a one-book person. Can we establish you as a brand and give you a guaranteed slot in the future—do you have more than one book in you, are you a professional, do you meet commitments/deadlines?
  • Elusive—the “it” factor. You’ve acknowledged the things you can’t control, you’ve done all you can and you still get rejected. Sometimes there’s no good explanation—it’s just people on the other side of the desk. It’s subjective.
  • When it comes back, make revisions, keep it alive, don’t take it personally, keep sending it out.

Your most important sentence in your manuscript is the first one! Its only job is to make me read the next sentence—if the next sent is really good, I’ll read the whole paragraph, etc., etc.—we don’t read “until it gets good.” EX of Kay Lynn Mangum—she sent in a 600 page book, which was shelved. A few weeks later, Lisa had some free time at work and she picked it up—and pretty much fell right into that world. But they cut book by 50% and then it got published.

It’s okay to follow up to ask for a status report once you’ve waited the prescribed time in the guidelines. (DB = 6-8 weeks) Then it’s okay to call. Caveat: there’s nobody easier to say no to than a high-maintenance author. Don’t call daily. Don’t call the day you submit. Often in publishing, no news is good news. Unless they’re a huge publisher. 😉 Their guidelines should say that, though. If they’re taking time, they’re talking to sales and calendaring and marketing and and and.

What should you do while waiting? Write another book. Revise. Send it to someone else. Keep working on something—they might ask if you have anything else ready—bump to head of the line for guaranteed spots!

Questions
Are most publishers okay with simultaneous submissions?
Most people are. Guidelines will say so. Guidelines should be on publishers’ websites.

Illustrations—are they a plus/minus?
Few are author/illustrators—if you do both well, send them in. If not, usually it’s not the author’s responsibility to find an illustrator. Publisher finds professional, awesome illustrator to go with it. The author should have a vote on illustrations.

How do you discover the trends?
Go to the bookstore, come to writers’ conferences, follow Publishers’ Weekly, industry magazines. To be first, see what’s not on the shelf. How do you find out where all the publishing houses are? Writers Market. Local library, reference section. Or WritersMarket.com subscription, up-to-date. Pulse on what’s going on.

What’s the first thing you look at besides cover letter?
The plot. Is it interesting? An original take? She’s more forgiving on fiction b/c it’s harder to evaluate character development in just paragraph or two. Fiction = decision on content. Nonfiction = decision on topic [and platform]. Strong characters, clear voice, interesting situations, believable dialogue.

Her final thing: What do you do? What can you do? A quotation she saw at Disneyland (a friend of Disney’s encouraging him on building the theme park) seemed to answer these questions perfectly—don’t worry, don’t hurry, don’t stop.

Don’t worry if it’s not very good, don’t worry if it’s taking a long time. Don’t worry if you get lots of rejections. Don’t hurry your craft. Take your time. Make it the best you can. Don’t worry if you make a mistake. Don’t worry. Keep writing. Keep submitting. There will always be a need for books, new writers, new ideas, new voices. I wouldn’t have a job if you guys didn’t do your work. I want to read what you’re writing because you’re writing new and interesting things.

About the presenter
Lisa Mangum is an Assistant Editor at Deseret Book, which she admits is a little different than the NY publishers. She’s been in publishing for twelve years, and most of that time, she was in charge of sorting, maintaining and taming the slush pile. This spring, her first novel, The Hourglass Door (my review) was released by Shadow Mountain books, an imprint of Deseret Book. As per conference guidelines, I obtained written consent from Lisa to blog the content of her presentation.

What do you think? Are there any “tricks” to getting out of the slush pile? What weird guidelines have you come across?

Photo credit: Richard Dudley

Pros and cons of the three act structure

This entry is part 7 of 24 in the series The plot thickens (Mwahahaha)

Yesterday, we talked about the basics of the three-act structure by Syd Field. Today, we’ll weigh some of the pros and cons of using this method to plot our stories.

Pros

First of all, we have to acknowledge that this structure is very simple. In some ways, that’s one of its strengths. Because there’s not a whole lot set in stone, the three-act structure is highly flexible.

It’s also almost universally applicable. Even if you haven’t used the three act structure in plotting your story, odds are good you can apply it now. In fact, all of the plotting methods that we’ll examine later can be sketched out on the three act structure outline, too.

Finally, it’s very popular: it’s easy to find examples of the three-act structure in virtually every story we know and love. It’s familiar to readers, easy to understand and apply, and almost what we expect when reading a story.

Cons

However, this kind of outline of the three act structure is a little generic. It doesn’t offer a whole lot of guidance in the way of how to keep building in the story. It doesn’t give us a way to avoid the dreaded “sagging middle.”

Some critics of the three-act structure, such as former Writers’ Guild Director James Bonnet, say that the three-act structure is an artificial superimposition.

On the other hand, Bonnet argues that studying structure doesn’t automatically make you a wizard at writing well-structured stories. But come on—not studying structure is even less likely to help you avoid Winchester Mystery Stories.

Bonnet’s alternative (emphasis added):

Aristotle’s classical structure, which is the dominant feature of this structure, can stand alone. All of the structures you might find in the act are already built into the problem solving action that encounters resistance, namely: conflict, complications, crises (turning points) climax and resolution. It is, in fact, the structure of any problem solving action (real or fiction) that encounters resistance.

Does that sound a little familiar 😉 ?

What do you think? What weaknesses and strengths do you see in using the three-act structure to plot your story? Would you use it?

Picture by Luke