I Always Wear a Mini-Parachute Under My Clothes

January 14, 2016 / 1 Comment

I Always Wear a Mini-Parachute Under My Clothes

Old reference from the Incredible Hulk comics. Paraphrased, but very relevant. Points if you know who said it.

So, a few weeks back I talked about suspension of disbelief. It’s how we guide our readers through the parts of our stories that, well, don’t hold up to rigorous examination. They’re inherently wrong, illogical, or maybe just very out of character for that person on the page–or maybe for anyone. This sort of thing breaks the flow of my story. If I break the flow often enough, my reader’s just going to put the book down and move onto something more entertaining like the latest episode of Galavant. Or laundry.

Now, that being said, sometimes I just need a coincidence or an irrational act. It’s the curse of being a writer. Every now and then someone needs some amazing good luck or really horrible bad luck. They find the key. They forget the password. They manage to make the nigh-impossible shot on their first try. Their cell phone battery dies.

Here’s a quick tip that can help make that moment work.

There’s a device I’ve mentioned before called “hanging a lantern on it.” It’s when I take that odd coincidence and—rather than try to hide it or brush it aside—I draw attention to it. I put a spotlight on it. Not as the writer, mind you, but within the story itself. When I hang a lantern on something, an odd or unlikey event happens and my characters address the oddness or unlikelihood of it

In my Ex-Heroes series, for example, the subject of origins comes up in the second book, Ex-Patriots. One of the characters, Cesar Mendoza, has the ability to possess machinery, and explains that he got the power when he was younger. According to him, he was struck by lightning while working on a car’s alternator.

            Ridiculous, right?
            Thing is, St. George immediatelypoints out how ridiculous this is. He even gives examples and explains just how impossible it is for a lightning strike to give someone superpowers. Cesar’s response is just to shrug and point out “Yeah, but it did.” And then he asks how St. George got his powers, and our hero awkwardly admits he got his powers by getting caught in an explosion when a radioactive meteor hit a chemical storeroom at the lab where he was cleaning up.
            So, why does this little trick work?

Well, y’see, Timmy, when my reader sees something ridiculous happen in the story and my characters acknowledge that thing is ridiculous, it makes them more believable and relatable. It’s just the way we’re wired as people. We can’t forgive a million-to-one coincidence that everyone takes in stride, but we kind of buy it if everbody comments on the odds we just beat. When the reader and the character have the same reaction, it pulls the reader in a little bit rather than pushing them away.

Now, does hanging a lantern make a story’s lucky coincidence totally acceptable? Well, not always. But it’ll push back the suspension of disbelief a few notches. So if I’m asking the audience to accept something small-to-midsize (that five people on a subway car all have the same birthday), and I make a point of commenting on the oddness of it, the readers will probably accept it without too much trouble. If it’s a huge coincidence that really strains belief (“None of the codebreakers thought to see if the password was his birthday?!?”)… well, there’s only so much any plot device can do.

Also, keep in mind I can’t include dozens of belief-straining elements and hang a lantern on each one. In fiction, just like in real life, people start to get weirded out by too many coincidences. When it happens once it’s good (or bad) luck. Twice is just crazy. Three times… okay, now I’m looking around. Four times and someone’s interfering with my life, somehow.

Looking at it from the authorial side of it, it’s something you can only do once or thrice before people start to catch on to what you’re really doing. A good magician rarely repeats a trick, because once the audience sees what you’re doing, the trick’s ruined.

And now I can never use it again.

So if my readers are going to think something is a bit unlikely… maybe my characters should, too.

Next time, I’d like to talk about photobombers.

Until then, go write.

January 7, 2016 / 2 Comments

The Woooooorld of Tomorrow!

Welcome back. Glad to see you all survived the violent transition to 2016.

I like to start the year by going over what this pile of rants is for and why I do it. I think it’s good for any of you who’ve stumbled across this page. It’s also good for me, to help stay focused on helpful tips and suggestions and, yes, the occasional rule.

That’s more or less how this started, almost nine years ago now. At the time, I was writing for a screenwriting magazine, and I’d see tons of articles and websites about tricks and gimmicks—the sort of stuff you worry about after writing. I’d guess at least two-thirds of writing articles, even in our own magazine, fell into this category. Stuff like how to get an agent or manager, how to aggressively network, how to arrange book signings, that sort of thing. Most of which seemed like… well, like it was skipping a few steps.

And some of these folks were asking to be paid for their pearls of so-called wisdom.

So, I went to my editor with a few spec columns about… writing. Some basic things I’d written up based on my own years of many failures and a few successes (or, as some folks call it, experience). And the columns were rejected. A few months later I went to another editor, he passed them up the chain, and they were rejected again. Those three columns became the first posts here. I’d tossed them up just so it felt like I’d done something with them. I thought they were fairly well written and made some good points—I didn’t want them to languish on my computer. Maybe in the tiny, limited space that was the internet somebody would stumble across them and find them useful.

(Bonus fact. Maybe a year after I started posting here full time somebody pointed out Thoth-Amon was also the evil sorcerer in the Conan books and comics. Completely slipped my mind when I picked the name for the site. I just went with it because Thoth was the Egyptian god of writing)

Anyway, as I worked my way further into the life of a full-time writer, I was exposed to more and more people’s work. I read scripts for a couple different contests and got a bunch of exposure to it (reading 400+ pages a day will do that to you). And it struck me that I kept seeing the same basic mistakes. Often to wince-inducing levels.

Okay, so this is just my own experience, but at this point my experience is pretty broad so I feel good about saying it…

Most aspiring writers fall into one of two camps. Some think writing and storytelling are mechanical, quantifiable processes that can be broken down into solid rules and formulas. These are the folks who will use Syd Field as proof that their screenplay is perfect and quote the MLA Handbook to explain why their novel deserves to be published

The other group think rules are for old-school losers who don’t get that spelling, formatting, and structure just hamper the creative process and will get overlooked when people see the inherent art in the writing. Nothing matters past the pure art of words flowing out of their fingertips. Because we all have fantastic stories to tell. Don’t know how to spell that word? That’s what spellchecker’s for. Don’t know what the word means? Well, they’ll get it from context. Not in the mood to write? Then just wait for the muse to strike. Someone said bad things about your writing? Ignore them, what do they know?! Nothing matters except being happy about your writing.

Both of these groups are usually wrong, for the record.

Note that I said “usually.” Most folks think it’s all-or-nothing. You have to be on one extreme or another. The truth is that it’s more of a middle ground.

Y’see, Timmy, there are correct and incorrect things in writing. I have to know how to spell (me—not my spellchecker). I have to understand grammar. I need to have a sense of pacing. If I’m writing a script, I’ve got to know the current accepted format. As a writer, I can’t ignore any of these requirements, because these are things I can get wrong and I’ll be judged on them.

On the other hand, there is no “right” way to start your writing day or to develop a character. There’s only the way that’s right for me and my story. Or you and your story. Or her and her story. This is the Golden Rule that I’ve mentioned here once or thrice. If I ask twenty different writers about their method, I’m going to get twenty different answers. And all of these answers are valid, because all of these methods work for that writer.

But that still doesn’t mean I can ignore every convention or rule I don’t like. I need to understand the rules if I want to break them successfully. Yeah, maybe there are ten or twenty people who broke the rules and succeeded… but there are hundreds of thousands, probably millions, who broke the rules and failed miserably.

And that’s what I try to do here. Talk about writing. Not the after-the-fact-stuff, just writing. I talk about rules that we need to learn and follow (until we’ve got the experience to bend or break them). I try to offer some various tips and suggestions I’ve heard over the years that may (or may not) help out when it comes to crafting a story.

I have a few topics on deck for the weeks ahead. Author visibility. Action. Inside jokes. Stakes. Motives. A few others. And if there’s something that’s been gnawing at you that you’d like me to blab about, let me know down in the comments. I’ve been doing this for a while—there aren’t many topics I haven’t had a painful learning experience with, and I’m always willing to share.

Oh, also… if you happen to live in the southern California area, I’d like to recommend the Writers Coffeehouse. It’s a monthly meeting of writers of all types and levels to talk about… well, writing. All aspects from first ideas and editing to pitching and marketing. It’s free, it’s fun, and it’s open to everyone. Jonathan Maberry (author of the Joe Ledger series, the Rot & Ruin series, and many others) brought it with him when he moved to the San Diego area, and he hosts a Coffeehouse the first Sunday of every month at the Mysterious Galaxybookstore. And starting this month, on the 24th, I’m going to be hosting one here in Los Angeles at Dark Delicacies.

So check that out if you’re in the area.

Next time, I’d like to talk about lanterns.

Until then… go write.

Coffeehouse editing golden rule muse rules snowflake tips

June 18, 2015 / 2 Comments

Don’t Look Back Now…

Okay, I’m still trying to get caught up on things after a whirlwind of publicity stuff for The Fold. And to be honest, the storm flags are still blowing a bit. So I just wanted to offer some quick advice on drafts. Specifically, how to approach my first draft.

As I’ve mentioned here a few times before, I tend to treat my first draft as the “just finish it” part of writing. I just want to get it done with a beginning, an end, and the majority of points in between. I also don’t hold back. I let dialogue, descriptions, and action scenes run on a bit longer than they probably should. A lot of it’s not perfect, but I know I’ll start cutting in the next draft or two, so there’s no reason to worry about length now. The most important thing is to get the overall framework done. Personally, I find it’s a lot easier to deal with the small things when the big things aren’t looming over me.

A lot of folks I’ve talked to try to do this, but they get caught in early-editing mode. Ten pages in and they’re going back to edit, or rethink a character, or to tweak the structure. Forward motion crashes to a halt because the writer’s spending all their time looking back.

Now, in all fairness, a few people can do this and it works fine for them. It’s how Kevin Smith writes. He goes in blocks of ten or twelve pages, writing, rewriting, and polishing until they’re done. Then he moves on to the next ten.

If you’re one of the folks who can do this, power to you. But in my experience, with all the writers I’ve talked to over the years, those folks are a rarity. Most of us, alas, have to go through the whole thing, then go through it again. And again.

So, if you’re one of us, too, here’s my quick piece of advice.

Don’t look back.

When working on a first draft, I can read the page I left off on. That’s it. If I stop halfway through the page, I can look at the top half before I start writing again. That’s it. If I ended at the top of a page, too bad.

If I close the document, I’ll make a note somewhere else of what page I was on. When I reopen it, I go right to the page I left off on. No slow paging through the document. Get back to where I left off and start writing again.

Under no circumstances while writing will I hit the up arrow or page up or push the scroll bar. None of that. Not even to go up to the last paragraph. No corrections, no re-reading, no going back to adjust. I don’t go back to fix typos or formatting or anything. This draft moves in one direction and it doesn’t stop moving in that direction.

I do not stop. Ever. Until it is done.

This is an adjustment, yes. And a very tough one. It might not work for everyone. But I’ve tried it twice now and found it helps. There’s a lot of stuff to clean up, yeah, but I’m getting to the clean up stage a lot faster than I would normally.

Y’see, Timmy, forcing myself to only go forward means I’m forcing myself to write. I don’t get to rethink yesterday’s work or tweak that first encounter or even double check if I usedthe right spelling of prophesy (I didn’t, but it doesn’t matter in a first draft). I just write until the first draft is done.

So try going forward. Only forward. Never back. Not one line.

Next time, by popular demand from my fan page, we’re going to talk a bit about screenwriting, clan wars, and hunting.

Until then, go write.

drafts smith tips

April 24, 2015 / 4 Comments

Slow Down, You Move Too Fast

Both of you who are still here, many thanks for your patience during my long absence.

The title’s a pop culture reference to some band my mom listened to a lot. Garfunkel and Oates, I think…

Okay, I’ll warn you right up front, this post is going to annoy some of you.

I wanted to talk with you for a few minutes about cooking. As I’ve mentioned in the past, cooking and writing are great parallels. There are certain rules that must be followed, but there’s also a degree of personal style and taste involved for both the creator and the consumer. We also understand that while almost all of us can do it on a simple, day-to-day level, there’s a big difference between that and cooking on a professional level as a chef.

In cooking, we understand there are certain time elements that can’t be changed. A three minute egg needs to boil for (big surprise) three minutes. I can’t bake a cake in half the time by turning the temperature up twice as high. Trying to speed these things up doesn’t improve them. We all get that. We all understand it.

This is true in a lot of things. If I’m building a house, I need to let the concrete in the foundation set before I start working on the frame. Doctors often need to do procedures in multiple steps to give the patient time to heal. It’s boring as hell, but sometimes you actually just need to watch paint dry.

Likewise, I think there’s a time element in writing. The more it gets rushed, the more I end up with… well, a burned cake. Or a crappy foundation. Or severe hemorrhaging. Or a lot of smeared paint. Pick your favorite metaphor.

That being said, there’s a lot of pressure to rush through writing these days. I’ve seen more than a few would-be gurus pushing a business model of quantity over quality. The ease of publishing through Amazon has made the idea of moving slow seem… well, clunky and antiquated. It draws comparisons to, dare I say it, dinosaurs. And with the raw amount of stuff being e-published, I think all of us have a lurking fear that if we don’t get our idea out there now, someone else is going to have it out there first thing tomorrow.

But the most important thing, above all others, is for me to write well and write something good. Churning out 6000 words a day or 300 pages for NaNoWriMo is an achievement, yes. But it’s better to have 2000 good words and 200 polished pages if I want to do something with them.

Odds are, that’s just not going to happen in my first draft. Or my second draft, especially if that’s just a quick pass with the spellchecker. Or my third. Maybe not even my fourth. Oh there’s always a chance that my first book is just pure gold on the first pass, but the majority of us just don’t have the ability or the experience to put out material that doesn’t need work.

Yes, us. The book I just turned in took six months, start to finish. It went through four drafts, and there’s no question in my mind it’s going to get another. In the end, I even asked my editor for more time. Because it needed more. A lot of my word choices, my phrasing, my structure… it was all first-pass stuff. It wasn’t really bad, but it also wasn’t good. Definitely not great (although I like to think there were still a few moments of greatness in there somewhere).

Writing takes time. Like the cake or the surgery or the paint, I can’t rush through an edit draft in a day and expect to get the same results as someone who spends three weeks going over their manuscript line by line. My first draft is never going to be as good as someone’s fifth or sixth draft.

Because of this time factor (ready for more angry comments?), I often find myself questioning people who say they wrote a book in a month. Or even six weeks. I completely believe a draft can be written in that amount of time. I wrote the first draft of 14 in about six weeks. But a finished book manuscript? Something ready to hand off to an editor?

You’ve probably heard of Stephen King. You probably also know how often he’s been mocked and criticized numerous times for the speed he puts out books. I mean, he’s got to be putting out how many novels a year?

Two. That’s it. Less than that on average, really (although he did have a bit of a dead zone (zing!) after getting hit by that van). In forty years of professional writing, he’s barely had fifty books published. And so many people still call him a hack because he churns stuff out at such a fast rate…

Now, going slow isn’t an ironclad rule. Just a few weeks back I pointed out that some folks go so slow they pretty much come to a dead stop. And sometimes everything just lines up and a draft takes a few days. No two projects are the same and no two writers are the same.

But if every draft of every project goes fast… maybe I should take an effort to slow down for a while and see how it affects my writing.

Because the goal for all of us is to be great. Not to rush toward good and stop when we get there.

Next time I’d like to have a quick chat about zombies. And vampires. And mysteries.

Until then, go write.

drafts editing NaNoWriMo time tips

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