Works

Story department!

6 Comments

A while ago, I posted about a story department for writers, like that of a Hollywood movie studio. Basically, it’s a place where we can find help identifying weaknesses, brainstorming new ideas, making the jokes better, getting the story structure right and more.

How this works:

The lucky volunteer submits whatever s/he wants help with: this could be the seed of an idea if you’re in the brainstorming phase, a query-length blurb if you’re looking for more specific brainstorming help or stuck in between plot points, a synopsis if you want structural advice, or even a scene or passage if you can’t quite put your finger on what’s not working. For maximum effectiveness, a short list of what you’re looking for is helpful.

I post the material on the appointed day. Then we, the kind, thoughtful and helpful readers and writers around here, put our minds to work. Think about it all day and come back with an insightful idea, or post the first thing that pops into your head.

Of course, the volunteer author doesn’t have to use anything we toss out—but now s/he isn’t the only one having to think of ideas. And even if we don’t come up with something specific to help the volunteer, maybe something one of us says will spark another idea and the story will take off again, magically healed 😉 . (The volunteer is more than welcome to engage in a discussion, of course, but we probably don’t need a full explanation of just why our ideas won’t work.)

The story

Today, I’m the volunteer again. I’m looking for help with one of those “little ideas,” a scene-level fix.

The setup:

Our bad guy (whom we may call . . . “Tom”) is trying to induce our heroine (“Nina”) to come somewhere with him to save our hero (“Johnny,” Nina’s fiancé). Nina has known Tom for years—and knows him well enough not to trust him. But when Tom shows Nina Johnny’s prized watch (or something else) that he never parts with, she knows something is wrong. Nina allows Tom to drive her car, and they’re leaving the garage at her building when one of her neighbors gets suspicious. When the neighbor starts to call the police, Tom shoots and kills him.

What I’m looking for:

  • A way to keep Nina in the car after the gun goes off. Nina knows better than to go driving off with an armed murderer. I think Tom needs to physically restrain her in the car somehow.
  • I’m also open to suggestions on Johnny’s prized, personally identifiable possession (something he’d be able to function without).
  • If it helps, I think it’s not crucial that they use Nina’s car. (However, the neighbor is more likely to think something weird is going on if Tom’s driving Nina’s car. On the other hand, if you can give a reason for the neighbor to attract Tom’s attention and ire from Tom’s car, I’m open to that)

Want to participate? Jump in the comments! Want to volunteer? Send your material—including what you’re looking for—to storydept at JordanMcCollum.com. I’ll contact you to work out a date.

Original photo by Tom Magliery

Technique

Where little ideas come from

On the topic of “little ideas” again, I was looking to add some dialogue to increase tension in an argument scene, and I remembered a conflict from the first half of the book that had kind of faded in the second. A ha!, I thought. I can tie this back in here, and it will look so natural—you’d never know it was new stuff grafted on! I was very excited for another “little idea.”

As I read books, even great books, I often wonder which parts were planned all along, and which ones the author had to go back and add—characters or events to explain motivation or justify later actions, plot devices and twists, foreshadowing, even jokes that refer back to previous events in the story (which came first, the joke or the event?). (Yes, I do perform a lot of unnecessary mental gymnastics while I read. It keeps me young.)

And then I wonder, “Where do little ideas come from?” (I know, I know, when two big ideas love each other very much . . . save it, thank you.) I came up with three sources: planning, “fixing” (grafting it on later) or happy coincidence.

Planning is when you’ve known you were going to do this all along. So far, I always know who the killer is in a mystery, so I can plan some of the little hints in his/her behavior that act as clues, and I can foreshadow that big reveal in little ways. Even little ideas may be planned. Often, planning comes from fixing/grafting or happy coincidence during the plotting stage of writing, so you’re all ready when fingers hit the keyboard.

Fixing or grafting is when you’re writing merrily along and suddenly you realize, Hey, wait a minute. What the character’s doing here doesn’t make sense. I need to go back and add something before this to justify this story turn/plant this clue/SAVE HIS LIFE!!!

Happy coincidence is when you’re writing merrily along and suddenly you realize, Hey, wait a minute. This would be the perfect place to hearken back to X event/Y clue/Z character in my story. Oh, how neat and tidy! I am oh so very clever! (I love these ones.)

I think we all probably tap into these as we write. I’m afraid happy coincidence is the one I use most, though that may not be the case—and those are often the type of little ideas I’m most worried about losing.

What do you think? Are there other sources for little strokes of genius? Which do you use the most?

Photo by Rishi Bandopadhay

Technique

Running out of ideas

3 Comments

Are you ever afraid you’ll run out of ideas? I am. Writing fiction takes up a lot of ideas.

Mostly, I’m not afraid of running out of the high-level, story-starting ideas. Those ideas come from everywhere—watching television, reading the newspaper, reading other novels, brainstorming on other projects, etc. Generally, it takes me two of those big ideas combined to get really excited about a story. And once I’m really excited, I can’t wait to start writing.

But I’m afraid of running out of the little ideas. Things that solve problems on a scene level: tricks to get characters out of (or into!) scrapes, gadgets and technology, historical and cultural facts, and so forth. Sometimes I feel like I’ve been incredibly lucky to come up with the number of ideas (and solutions rooted in my research) that I’ve had in the first place—what if I run out?

Sometimes, I want to save these ideas. “Yeah, I could use this here,” I tell myself. “It might help this scene, but what if I need that exact kind of plot device/gadget/tidbit more in a year or two or five? I mean, I guess I could use it then, too, but won’t that make my writing . . . redundant?”

I’m trying to learn to trust myself—if I have an idea that works for this story that punches it up, I probably shouldn’t wait to see if maybe this story will work okay without it and I can use it later. It’s not “wasting” an idea if you actually put it to use—and who knows if you’ll ever have occasion to use something like that again. And even if you do, chances are that you’ll have to customize it to your characters and their story, so it would probably look very different.

What do you think? Where do you get your “little” ideas and solutions? Do you think something like that might be recognizable? Do you know of any writers who repeat the same plot devices too much?

Photo by Steve Koukoulas

Technique

Backstory: the end (for now?)

This entry is part 20 of 20 in the series Backstory

Once again, we’re at the “end” of the series on backstory. In this first iteration of the series, we focused on the standard uses of backstory (character motivation and trying to make characters look sympathetic) and the standard delivery of backstory (“shards” designed to clarify the story).

This “201” take focused more on the special category of stories where the present story is all about discovering “truth” through discovering the past story. This backstory is more than just information that makes a scene make sense; it changes the entire way the character views the world (maybe we could say that it makes their whole world make more sense).

The example I keep using is in The Secret Life of Bees, where Lily is trying to find out the truth about her mother’s death (and her life). It’s been a while since I read it, but if I remember correctly, there are very few instances where backstory’s sole purpose is to justify a character’s action in the present. The backstory revelations aren’t incidental to the scene and the characters; when they come, they’re the purpose of the scene and have a big impact on the character and her journey.

It’s a special use of backstory, definitely, and not the “usual” use. But no matter how we use backstory, it can enrich our characters and our story—as long as it’s not like this:

What do you think? Have you ever seen this use of backstory (the good example or the bad one)? What all would you say is “bad” about the cartoon example?

Technique

Backstory delivery 201

5 Comments
This entry is part 16 of 20 in the series Backstory

Even good backstory can kill a story if it’s not delivered well. We’ve looked extensively at how to weave in backstory, but I think in this “201-level” look, we can go beyond the basic mechanics on a scene level (which we’ve covered before) and look at how backstory revelations should function in a story—and how to keep their delivery smooth.

As we said last time, this has to be the right kind of backstory—something worth waiting for. Hinting at the backstory, “insinuating” it as Chris Roerden puts it (Don’t Murder Your Mystery), can be a driving force for the novel if the “right” backstory is big enough (such as the identity of the murderer).

Hinting at the backstory throughout the story creates suspense by promising some big, important revelation. We’re writing the reader a promissory note, and if the revelation isn’t as big and important as we set it up to be, we can’t give our readers the pay off we promised.

But as long as our backstory is a big enough deal, suspense is often the main function of backstory. When you keep in mind that you’re trying to raise more questions than you answer (but answer enough questions not to frustrate your reader!), it might be easier to see why (and how) to slip backstory in a “shard” at a time.

One important thing to remember is that there has to be some “action” in the present to balance the action set in the past. Not fight scenes per se, but some character doing something. If the plot is going to revolve around searching for some truth or story or facts, that search has to be compelling in and of itself. An entire book about a girl sitting down to read her late father’s journal—which she does, successfully, in one sitting, and she counts herself lucky to have known him—isn’t as compelling or interesting as just depicting the backstory (the father’s life) as the “live action” of the story.

There has to be conflict in the present as well as in the backstory we’re revealing—and possibly between the two, as well. Maybe the daughter is going through troubles in her marriage and she reads about her father’s doubts in his marriage. But before she can come to his final choice whether to remain faithful to her mother, the daughter’s husband interrupts her. They have a fight. He takes the journal and burns it. The daughter must set off to find the “other woman” to see what her father chose. She only knows her first name, and so on. Discovering the story isn’t easy—and the character has a compelling reason to want to know the (very important) truth.

And of course, that revelatory truth will most likely come at or around the climax of the story—another reason why this has to be a big promise, and something worth revealing.

What do you think? When a story centers around backstory, how does the delivery differ than in other stories?

Photo by Michael Lehet

Technique

The “right” kind of backstory

7 Comments
This entry is part 2 of 20 in the series Backstory

Lots of books—especially, it seems, those of a more literary bent—focus on revealing backstory as unlocking a key in a mystery, whether it be finally understanding another person to the character finally discovering the truth about his/her own life. How is that different from “bad” backstory?

The answer may vary, but to me “bad” backstory is a.) delivered up-front in a chunk and/or b.) supposed to totally explain why the characters (especially bad guys and fractured protagonists) are the way they are, and thus justify their poor choices.

“Good” backstory, on the other hand, often isn’t something the main character knows yet. The main character is searching for the rest of the story right along with us. If a POV character does know the whole story, s/he should have a reason to hide that from the other characters and the reader, instead of just withholding for withholding’s sake.

This backstory must also be something worth waiting for. The premise of the novel rests on this character’s search for the truth—so that truth had better be worth reading the whole thing for. Trick endings might sell one book, but betrayed readers might be turned off forever.

But most important, perhaps, is what the backstory does. No matter what the specific events of the past or present in the book, discovering the truth should reveal some truth about the present story. It should help the character—and hopefully the reader—make sense of the world, and inform the character in some way greater than just the facts do.

That is, after all, the point of studying history, whether global or personal. We’re trying to understand where we fit in, what came before, and how that can guide us better. We want to know what we believe or feel or know has always been true. We want to know what truth is. And it’s not only the point of studying history—it can be the point of reading fiction, too.

What do you think? What defines the “right” kind of backstory?

Photo by Clever Cupcakes

Technique

The backstory of Backstory

This entry is part 15 of 20 in the series Backstory

I don’t want to rehash too much of what we discussed last time (can you believe it’s only been three months since we discussed this last?)—I want to move into new territory. But first, I guess, we have to go through the backstory on the backstory: review what we’ve already covered so I can see where to go next.

The last series covered several topics:

So we looked at determining what was backstory and what was story-story, as well as several methods of inserting backstory. As I said before, it’s that last subject that prompted this revisit. More and more I’m noticing stories that rely heavily on their backstory, whether to propel the current action of the story or to add the suspense necessary to propel the readers through the story. In less experienced hands, those same backstory-heavy books might drag, as hopelessly trapped in the past as their characters. But plenty of excellent authors are able to pull it off in style.

There are definitely good uses for backstory—and well-written, interesting stories can even revolve around backstory. So how can we make sure our backstory is the “right” kind and the “right” delivery?

Photo by Colleen Lane

Technique

Backstory done right

1 Comment
This entry is part 14 of 20 in the series Backstory

A little while ago, we took a look at backstory. We focused mostly on what to avoid, but the fact remains that backstory isn’t all bad. Backstory can be vital to a story or a character. In fact, entire genres rely on the device.

Mysteries, for example, rely heavily on backstory, if we define “backstory” as any action that takes place before the story starts. While plenty of mysteries have the murder happen during the course of the story, stories that are more focused on a professional crime-solver and his investigation often start after the murder has already taken place. Thus, the mystery that drives the plot, from the identity to the motivation of the murderer, qualifies as backstory.

But pure mysteries aren’t the only genre that relies on an element of the mysterious. Personally, I have a hard time conceiving of a story that doesn’t contain an element of discovery, and that discovery will most likely be events or thoughts that take place off screen or before the story starts. As I mentioned during the series, often we see literary fiction revolve around revealing the truth behind an event that took place before the story started.

We brainstormed some reasons why that works so well when other stories that seem to rely just as heavily on events that happened before the story started are boring, using The Secret Life of Bees by Sue Monk Kidd as an example of this technique done well.

  • The story does have action in the present. The backstory mystery—who killed Lily’s mother, Deborah—is introduced first, but we quickly get to see the conflict in the present: Lily doesn’t get along with T. Ray (her father), and there’s also the historical backdrop of civil rights.
  • The backstory fuels the main character’s quest.
  • The backstory is important to the character—and the reader.
  • The POV character doesn’t know the backstory—it’s a mystery to her. While I think this is the most popular mode, this varies in some books, though: sometimes the POV character knows but doesn’t want to think about it.
  • What is probably key (and many thanks to my friend Sarah for helping me hash this out/saying it herself): The backstory—and the journey to discover the backstory—is the plot: the character’s growth comes in her decision to reconcile herself with her past and move on to the future.

So now we’re going to take a quick look at how great backstory can be. It’s still important to explain it judiciously, but backstory can add another dimension to a story to make it come alive.

What do you think? How have you seen backstory used well?

Photo by Dave