Category Archives: Ideas & Plotting

A guest post by Jacqui Talbot

When I was ten, my uncle gave me a chemistry set, and with my first successful experiment, I was hooked.

There were a few less successful endeavors.

Like the time I decided to make a homemade stink bomb. Nothing too difficult. Just cut the heads off some matches and stick them in a bottle with some ammonia. Give it a swirl and then leave it for 3-4 days. Et voila! A perfect tool with which to prank my older siblings.

That is, of course unless a certain person—who shall remain nameless—decided to alter the recipe for maximum stench, and then forgot about it, leaving the bottle in a kitchen cupboard for two weeks during one of the hottest summers on record. And if that nameless (and blameless) child’s stepmother happened upon said bottle, gave it a little shake, and then opened it…. You get the picture. I was grounded for a month and the kitchen was uninhabitable for almost that long.

And then there was the incident with that batch of super-charged homemade gunpowder. (I was trying to make my own fireworks and wound up losing the porch and my eyebrows in at the same time.)

The point is that I have two great loves in my life: chemistry and the written word.

So, as you can imagine, when I discovered Alan Bradleys’ intrepid protagonist, Flavia de Luce, I was entranced. A beguiling cross between Pippi Longstocking and Sherlock Holmes, Flavia is an eleven-year-old sleuth with a passion for chemistry (specifically poisons) and a penchant for crime solving.

You can see why I love this kid.

She stars in seven novels, each one told in first person with some of the most beautiful writing I’ve ever read. To say that Bradley has a way with words is like saying Michelangelo was handy with a paintbrush. The way he crafts the language is mind-blowing. Here’s the first line of the fourth book in the series: I AM HALF-SICK OF SHADOWS:

“Tendrils of raw fog floated up from the ice like agonized spirits departing their bodies. The cold air was a hazy, writhing mist.

Up and down the long gallery I flew, the silver blades of my skates making the sad scraping sound of a butcher’s knife being sharpened energetically on stone.”

*Sigh* See what I mean?

If Flavia sounds like a character you want to meet, I recommend starting with book one in the series, THE SWEETNESS AT THE BOTTOM OF THE PIE:

Reading one of Bradley’s books is like diving into a soft bed covered in silk sheets and down comforters. It’s like a hot bubble bath after a long day’s work.

Just be careful when you dive in. Because when it comes to Flavia, you never know what lurks beneath.

But when it comes to memorable characters, that’s not really a bad thing, is it?

About the Author:
Jacqui Talbot is a book worm, devoted Whovian, and certified fantasy geek. When not pursuing her dream of becoming a full-time writer, she spends her time learning different languages (six and counting) and being a nuclear chemist. Her current projects include SPINNERS, a YA supernatural thriller set on the Choctaw Indian reservation where she grew up, and KARMA AND CHEMISTRY, a MG fantasy adventure featuring a twelve-year-old protagonist who uses science to battle dark magic.

The Roller Coaster that was Tig Trager

April 2, 2016

Jace Killan

Character Craft & Skills Jace Killan Storyline No Comments

I have a confession—I binge-watched Sons of Anarchy. That’s right, I neglected work, my family, my nutrition, all of it for SOA. I had seen the commercials and was intrigued, but held off watching even a single episode until the finale hit Amazon Prime. Then I gave episode one a shot. And a few days later, I felt the overwhelming loss when there were no more episodes in my cue.

*Spoiler Alert*

Initially, Tig Traeger was my second most favorite character (following Opie). Later he became my favorite for the entire season.

At first, I liked TIg’s personality. He was funny and sensitive, but he could pull the trigger and kill as if it was second nature. He was also loyal to the club.

So loyal in fact that he accepted the assignment to take out Opie who was being framed by the ATF as a club snitch. (Something Opie would never do).

As the story unfolds, we see it coming. Opie’s wife Donna takes Opie’s truck. Tig mistakes Donna for Opie and performs the hit. This act was so heinous, so reckless, and wrong.

Donna was a great person, trying to raise her kids and keep her husband righteous while respecting his loyalty to the club. She was one of the good guys.

Opie was also one of the good guys. He ends up giving his life for the club that betrayed him. Opie didn’t deserve the hit but Clay, the club president, acting in ignorance, called on Tig who executed without question. In so many ways the hit was preventable. Tig could have looked harder, but he was already tore up about offing one of his brothers. And Clay could have showed more intelligence.

As soon as he killed Donna, I hated Tig. I wanted to see Tig die. I expected the writers to end his short involvement with SOA within the next couple episodes. But they didn’t. They kept him until the end.

They took Tig on a journey of redemption. Seasons later (or a couple days later) I reminded myself that Tig had killed Donna. But now I felt sorry for the guy. He had been ordered by the real offender, Clay. Yet, that was no excuse. I couldn’t love Tig again. Not after what he did.

Tig tries to make amends and eventually confesses to Opie. Opie forgives and this helps me forgive too. Then Tig finds a dog, badly beaten and almost dead. Tig takes care of the dog and nurses it back to health.

Then Tig’s two daughters are tortured and killed, burned alive in front of him. His pain and grief are so pitiful, I couldn’t help but care for the man.

Tig’s journey reinforced a few important key points to character development. First, Tig was not all good or all bad. He had traits in both arenas. Sometimes it was his good traits that got him into trouble and sometimes it was his bad traits that got him out. The writers carried us on a journey of emotion as they told Tig’s story. It wasn’t easy and it took time for Tig to recover from what he had done, but two main things helped Tig toward redemption—pain and kindness.

Characters become more likeable when they suffer. The death of TIg’s daughters caused a great deal of suffering. Characters become more likeable when they “pet the dog.” Showing kindness to animals (especially dogs), genuine concern even at the character’s own expense, and adherence to some sort of moral code, show us that they are really good people, or at least they want to be.

This worked for Tig. I’m glad the writers didn’t take the easy road and off this character in the first season as I suspected they would.

I live in Arizona with my family, wife and five kids and two little dogs. I write fiction, thrillers and soft sci-fi with some short horror on the side. I’ve got an MBA and work in finance for a biotechnology firm.

I volunteer with the Boy Scouts, play and write music, and enjoy everything outdoors. I’m also a novice photographer.

You can visit my author website at www.jacekillan.com, and you can read some of my works by visiting my Wattpad page.

Be Messy and Explore New Ideas: A Guest Post by Hamilton Perez

February 23, 2016

fictorians

Craft & Skills Fantasy Guest Posts Ideas & Plotting The Fictorians The Writing Life The Writing Process No Comments

A guest post by Hamilton Perez.

There’s one piece of writer’s advice that is, I think, as misguided as it is persistent. The reason it does so well, of course, is because it’s not actually bad advice, it’s just often misapplied. That advice is the old adage: Write what you know.

In life, this translates to something like, “Find what you’re good at and do that.” It’s great advice for when you’re first starting out, either as a writer or in a new career; it helps you discover parts of who you are, what skills you have, unlocks your potential or at the very least points you in that direction.

Looking back, I’m pretty sure that the more seasoned writers who recommended “write what you know” were politely telling me that some part of my writing didn’t ring true. Maybe I described a place I’d never been to, or what it’s like to jump out of a plane, or travel through Europe–whatever it was, I did it wrong. I needed to go back to the beginning and start with something simpler and closer to my own experience.

I took their advice and focused on stories with more familiar settings and characters, and I immediately hit a brick wall. Should I take actual experiences and fictionalize them? Should I write about themes of friendship, love, and loss? What does that look like on page 1? The experiences I’ve had that seemed most suitable for adaptation resisted being written the most.

Trying to tell a story based on an actual experience, even with deviations and embellishments to make them properly fictional, resulted in something constraining and strangely hollow. What I learned from years focused on writing “literary fiction” (a pretentious way to say there are no dragons), was it’s not the memories of heartache or longing that most inspire me, it’s the dreams and fears of what I haven’t yet experienced. Those are the thoughts that get my heart pounding and give a pulse to the page.

For me, “Write what you know” hindered growth by encouraging me to lean on what I already knew or was already good at, instead of pushing me into unknown waters where I could really find what I’m capable of. Ultimately, what I know was just getting in the way. And I’m pretty sure I’m not alone.

Through classes, workshops, and slush reading for magazines, I’ve come across a lot of boring characters and stories surrounded by beautiful writing. And I think this “write what you know” advice is partly to blame. We have a whole generation of budding writers trying to “write what they know” by pulling from homogeneous experiences, and as a result we have literary journals full of mediocre literature. That isn’t to say there aren’t gems out there, or that literary journals aren’t a worthy pursuit, but good writing should take us to unexpected places, not simply look under the fabric of suburban life or failing relationships ad nauseam.

Eventually, I gave up on that and switched to speculative fiction. I have nothing in common (as far as I know) with pillow golems, changelings, or warrior mountain tribes of Martian sand people. But in turning to them, my writing has flourished, and has even allowed me to get back into non-genre fiction by opening up my imagination, rather than shutting it in.

Maybe writing about your past experiences does that for you, in which case, have at it. The ultimate point here is not to dump on that classic advice–it’s don’t pigeon hole your inspiration. Develop whatever interesting idea comes to you and turn it as far off the beaten trail as you can. Sure, 90% of what we create is probably garbage. Glorious garbage! But the rest might just be weird and scary enough to work. At the very least, you’ll grow.

So be messy. Explore new ideas. Go directions that feel alien to you. Poke your fingers into strange holes, ideologically speaking. In the end, you’ll find that what you know seeps through anyway, except it will do so naturally and with more honesty than if you just recounted the string of events that led to a broken heart.

They say life begins at the end of your comfort zone. I believe that’s where good writing begins as well. Because success or failure in the unknown are far more rewarding and exciting than building empires of sand along the familiar shores of home.

Hamilton Perez bio:

Hamilton Perez started writing at age twelve because there weren’t any crossovers between Terminator, Star Wars, and Jurassic Park, and he really thought there ought to be. Alas, after several cease and desist letters from everyone who read those stories, Hamilton moved on to other subjects. He is a slush reader for Fantasy Scroll Magazine and his work has appeared in Daily Science Fiction.

They Want to Kill Me…

February 19, 2016

Ace Jordyn

Ideas & Plotting Life Philosophies The Writing Life No Comments

…because I know their plan to kill the pregnant queen.

Standing on the ruins of a Minoan Palace, I heard that young voice begging for help. From that moment on, those stones, which had been set over 4,000 years ago, were symbols for the stories of an ancient civilization. This was a place where people had lived, loved, and died. Where they sought refuge from natural disasters and storms. Where politics ruled and religion tried to rationalize and explain the unknowable. Where engineering feats and hard work created structures and infrastructure that still exist today. It was where I found a novel-worthy story.

That’s the beauty of stepping away from the keyboard, away from the office, and most importantly, the familiar. When I do that, I clear my mind enough to ask the all important what-if questions. That’s what works for me. If I’m ever stuck for ideas (which I rarely am) I go see or do something new.

But I don’t need to go somewhere exotic or ancient to be inspired. For me, it can be as simple as a break in the routine.

I live near a wildlife park which is a protected park in the city. It’s got deer, coyotes, and the occasional wild cat or bear wandering through – a five minute walk and I’m in the wilderness. A creek which is a raging torrent when the snow melts off the mountains becomes a docile meander in the summer. It’s here where I can leave the familiar, and rest my brain. There, in the quiet, I imagine people foraging and hunting. I see wizards and knights in great adventures. Then there are dragons, faces in rocks, the Green People in the trees and entire kingdoms where life and death struggles occur. This is where I can watch a beetle crawl and wonder what it’d be like to mine precious minerals on Mars or hear a woodpecker tapping and wonder what message he brings.

I may or may not decide to use these imaginings in new or existing stories. This distraction is simply fun for my brain – it gives it a rest and if I’m lucky, it inspires story worthy ideas. When go back to writing, I feel creatively rested and sometimes if I’m lucky, a story problem has been subconsciously resolved.

In new situations, I stop thinking and just let myself feel, smell, hear, and observe from different perspectives. My imagination relaxes and has fun free-associating, and it rises to the challenge of answering the what-if questions.

I can’t explain how I can see political intrigue, religious zealotry, and murders 4,000 years ago in a rock. Or, how a wild life park can inspire a trilogy which addresses coming of age themes. Or how an aerial view from an airplane threw me into an alternate universe. Or how that beetle ended up on Mars…

What I do know is that when I suspend my everyday headspace, stop my mental machinations and give my imagination the freedom to play – strange and wonderful things happen.

For example, this winter I was in Colima Mexico, at the Platform ruins. While there, Mexico’s most active volcano sent plumes of smoke into the sky. I stood near a boulder which had been shot from the volcano 3,000 years ago. That boulder and others had been thrown over 30 miles and they landed in a heavily populated settlement. I wondered how people interpreted this powerful natural event. Their ability to engineer places to live was quite advanced but they didn’t understand the science behind the volcano’s dangerous fickleness. So as I watched the volcanic plumes, I imagined how they’d react to it and what their lives would have been like. Then, I was an archeologist a thousand years from now, digging through the remains of both our modern world and the ancient world. What if?

These experiences all have one thing in common – I experienced different sensory inputs than I normally do at home, in my office. An airplane, a log by a creek, ancient ruins – these places all have different sensory experiences. I touched a rock and saw a civilization. The breeze caressed my skin and it carried the smell of the ocean – was it a calming fragrance or the scent of a coming storm? The volcano’s plume was astounding but was it the gentle breath of the fiery god or his sulfurous wrath? I saw the relief of a continent and wondered about its fantastic and mythological societies. Leaves rustling, parched greens of summer, hot sand scorching my feet, the foraging of foods grown wild, the rich flavors of local spices, sitting on the deck, watching a lady bug traverse the whorl on the wooden deck board ….

The imagination is so filled with possibilities and stories. Changing my headspace, getting away from the everyday familiar to experience different sensory inputs, all give my imagination room to play. This is how I let my life experiences shape my writing.