Category Archives: Making Progress as a Writer

Whenever someone asks me where I grew up, I claim Atlanta. Though I was born in Ottawa and lived on or above the Mason-Dixon line for the first fourteen years of my life, the person I am today came into being through the time I spent there. Though, I’m not a true southerner (you can’t be unless your roots go five or six generations back), I have picked up on some of their tricks.

When I first moved to the south, I remember thinking how nice and polite everyone seemed to be. A large part of the Southern social contract is devoted to avoiding overt conflicts. True, brawling does happen, but relations often stay friendly after wards. Things happen at a much slower pace, and no one really cares if you are two or three hours late to a bar-b-q. Southerners have turned hospitality and friendliness into an art form.

They have also turned sneakiness and subtly into a competition sport. In this arena, southern belles are the Olympic athletes. I’ve met women who can flay you alive and leave you thinking that they paid you the sweetest of complements. It’s actually pretty amazing to watch.

This tendency comes from years of practice in a culture and social system that strongly discourages direct physical conflict and prizes politeness and civility. However, when you try to disarm someone they will simply find another means to fight. Humans are still apex predators no matter how much we work to “civilize” them. We are also social animals who constantly struggle for their place in the clan’s heiarchy. When you take combat into a social arena, you simply change the rules, not human nature.

Where physical combat is an attempt to damage someone’s physical body or possessions, social combat is a war of perception and reputation. The combatants are trying to insult, slight, discredit, and embarrass one another in such a way that it influences the opinions and views of those around them. In so doing, the combatants are trying to change how others react to and interact with their target. Though more difficult and much longer term, social combat can also be designed to change how a person views themselves and how they in turn interact with the world around them. Break down someone’s self esteem, make them feel worthless and stupid, and they will break.

We are taught to ignore social combat as children, that “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” Unfortunately words, and the perceptions they alter, have incredible constructive and destructive power. Don’t believe me? Look at the absurd amounts of money political candidates pour into their media campaigns or the budgets that companies devote to advertising. These avenues are just mass social combat.

Social combat is nothing new to either life or fiction. However, it has seemingly had a resurgence in recognition and popularity. Reality TV is almost entirely based off turning social combat into a circus. Those sorts of bouts are more often like social brawls, however, lacking the refined elegance truly skilled combatants. For true social warfare, one can look to The Song of Ice and Fire books or their The Game of Thrones HBO made for TV adaptation. Many viewers love the politics and backstabbing as much, if not more than the physical conflicts. Some of the series’ most popular characters, such as Tyrion Lannister, Lord Varys, Little Finger, Tywin Lannister, Margaery Tyrell, and Melisandre, are beloved because of their skill and wit. In fact, the writers of The Game of Thrones directly call out the effects of social combat in a conversation between Varys and Tyrion in season 2 episode 3.

Varys: “Power is a curious thing, my lord. Are you fond of riddles?”
Tyrion: “Why? Am I about to hear one?”
Varys: “Three great men sit in a room, a king, a priest and the rich man. Between them stands a common sellsword. Each great man bids the sellsword kill the other two. Who lives? Who dies?”
Tyrion: “Depends on the sellsword.”
Varys: “Does it? He has neither the crown, nor gold, nor favor with the gods.”
Tyrion: “He’s has a sword, the power of life and death.”
Varys: “But if it is the swordsman who rules, why do we pretend kings hold all the power? When Ned Stark lost his head, who was truly responsible? Joffrey, the executioner, or something else?”
Tyrion: “I have decided I don’t like riddles.”
Varys: “Power resides where men believe it resides, it’s a trick, a shadow on the wall, and a very small man can cast a very large shadow.”

Social combat has a lot to offer fiction writers and our stories, but it is also difficult to use well. However, if you keep these six tips in mind, you can quickly find places to integrate this sort of conflict into your own writing.

Not everyone is cut out to be a master of social combat. Most people are not particularly good at it or even aware enough to notice when it is going on. Do all your characters have huge muscles and advanced military training? Then why would they all be able to fence with grace and skill in the social arena? Characters who are masters of this sort of conflict are some combination of intelligent, witty, clever, well spoken, charismatic, and mentally nimble. Most importantly, they have experience using those attributes to influence others.
People who are really good at social combat are also highly empathetic and perceptive. They understand how people will perceive their words and actions, and use that knowledge to create a desired effect.
Social combat is still combat and should therefore have real and damaging stakes. After all, the diplomat and the swordsman both may be trying to kill you, but only one is doing so overtly. To ensure that proper tension is maintained, it is critical to make the consequences of failure are clear to the reader and the pacing appropriate to the conflict.
Social combat is layered and filled with misdirection. Verbal sparring and the artful insults are rarely direct. Be sure to make full use of sarcasm, innuendo and referential humor (within the context of the story). Subtext is also a powerful tool. David Jon Fuller wrote a comprehensive post on this very topic last week, so I’d recommend taking the time to go look at it for some practical tips.
If the conflict is too obvious, social combat becomes melodrama. However, if it is too subtle, it’ll be missed by all but the most astute. Where you shoot for on that continuum depends on your audience and how important the conflict is to your overall story. I have found a lot of success in using sequels and deep immersion to highlight social combat and its effects. After all, if your character is skilled at social combat they will be aware of when it is happening and will both plan for and react to social sparring matches.
As writers, we have two major advantages over our characters when it comes to social combat. First, we have time to carefully think through and tweak each move in the conflict. Second, we enjoy unparalleled access to the thoughts and reactions of all sides of the conflict. Make sure you use these advantages for all they are worth!

Good luck and happy writing!

About the Author:
Though Nathan Barra is an engineer by profession, training and temperament, he is a storyteller by nature and at heart. Fascinated with the byplay of magic and technology, Nathan is drawn to science fantasy in both his reading and writing. He has been known, however, to wander off into other genres for “funzies.” Visit him at his webpage or Facebook Author Page.

Do I Really Have to Write Every Day?

March 30, 2015

fictorians

Balancing Acts Craft & Skills The Writing Life 6 Comments

A guest post by Holly Heisey.

When I decided to write seriously, I learned that I should write every day. So I did. After a month, I burned out.

Did that mean I wasn’t a real writer? Of course not.

Natural writing strides are a lot like sleeping habits. Some people are early risers, some are night owls, some fall in between. A person who’s a natural night owl won’t function well as an early riser, or vice versa. The same with your writing stride: if you naturally write every day, awesome! If you naturally don’t, awesome! The only thing that matters is that you’re writing and enjoying the process.

If you don’t know your natural writing stride, you can start by paying attention to how you feel about your writing time. Are you excited to write? Do you feel stressed, or are there times you’re more motivated than others? Maybe you don’t have a lot of energy during the week, but you’re very productive on the weekends. Or, your weekdays might be great for writing, but the weekends are for family. Or, you might like the freedom of a loose weekly goal. A weekly goal is great if daily wordcounts don’t work for you.

Another thing to consider is fear. The premise behind “write every day” is that when you make yourself do something every day, you’re not letting fear get in the way of creativity. The problem with this rule is that people deal with fear and creative problem solving in different ways. Guilt is also a factor in understanding your writing stride; guilt over not getting things done can be every bit as paralyzing as fear.

Here’s some things to watch for in your daily writing habits:

The Shoulds: Do you think you should write every day? Shoulds often have roots in others’ expectations—from friends and family, or from looking at other writers’ accomplishments, or from the pressure to be a “pro.” Shoulds are often an indicator that you’re going against your own grain.

Panic: Does the thought of writing today make you feel panicky? We all have different ways of dealing with this, but if you’re feeling panic, it might help to jump in and write anyway. Often enough, you’ll find that you can do it.

Procrastination: Let’s call this passive-aggressive panic. If you’re procrastinating, it’s probably a good idea to write anyway.

Motivation: Are you excited about what you’re writing today? If you’re excited but still afraid, awesome! That means you’re doing great things.

Apathy: This isn’t fear, but a lack of interest (though I’d look closely, as apathy and fear can masquerade as one another). This might mean your subconscious isn’t ready to work on the next part of your story. In which case, let your subconscious do its thing. It’s pretty smart.

Frustration: Does writing feel like pushing through molasses? You might see if any sparks ignite, but if it’s driving you into deeper frustration, it’s best to take a break.

If you’re frustrated or not feeling motivated, that’s okay. It’s natural, and it’s usually your subconscious saying, “hold on, wait, I’ve got a better idea!” You’re not blocked, you’re just incubating. Go do something fun, take a walk, watch a movie. Your writing will be there tomorrow or the next day, and you’ll likely find the excitement growing again. It’s like taking a writerly nap, and you “wake up” with your creativity renewed.

If you find you’re wanting to take too many days off, step back and ask yourself why you don’t want to write. A lot of times, it will be because of fear. Just ease back into a schedule, no big deal. Celebrate every page or paragraph written, because they’re always something to celebrate.

Once you do find your writerly stride, it’s okay to break the schedule and take a day off.

That’s worth repeating, because it’s where guilt often hits the hardest: It’s okay to take a day off.

Really. Take care of yourself. When you’re stressed about creating, it lessens your creativity. Your body, mind, and emotions are your most important assets. You are very worth caring for.

As writers, we’re in this for the long haul. “Professional” does not mean the lack of fun. Try things out. Be a little crazy. Be kind to yourself.

Your writing will love you for it.

About Holly Heisey:

Holly Heisey launched her writing career in sixth grade when she wrote her class play, a medieval fantasy. It was love at first dragon. Since then, she’s been a multiple finalist in the Writers of the Future Contest, and her short fiction has appeared in Escape Pod and Aoife’s Kiss. Holly lives in Pennsylvania with Larry and Moe, her two pet cacti, and she is currently at work on a science fantasy epic. Her website can be found at http://hollyheisey.com

Spelling and Grammar

March 25, 2015

fictorians

Balancing Acts Craft & Skills 2 Comments

A guest post by R J Terrell

Ah, our friends spelling and grammar. We meet them in school and they are with us for the rest of our literary lives. They’re what make non verbal communication possible, and make those of us who think too much marvel at how they came to be and evolved over the centuries.

In nonfiction, such as technical books, cookbooks, etc, spelling and grammar are essential (except your vegan books where we have substitutional products like almond mylk instead of milk) throughout the book. The last thing an author wants is to misspell the word spase in a book about astronomy. *grin*

In fiction, however, it’s a little different. Among others, there are two things going on that make for an immersive novel.

Within fiction, you have narrative, and dialogue. While there different types of narrative styles, for the purpose here, we will stick to three.

One style of narration is First Person. In first person, the reader only knows what the character knows. In this style, you the reader are in the main character’s head, and therefore are reading things in the manner in which they think. In this type of narration, spelling and grammar are usually going to follow the rules. Although you are reading the character’s experiences from their perspective, and sentences are even written in a style according to how they think, spelling and grammar are going to be intact; “When I made my way over that hill and saw that mountain lion, there was no way in hell I was taking a step closer. In fact, I took a step back.” This is first person, but written in a conversational style. Grammar and spelling intact.

Two other styles are Third Person Limited and Third Person Omniscient. The former is similar to first person, in that the reader only knows what the character in question knows, but it is in third person. Omniscient is when the reader knows everything going on in the world even though the characters don’t. These two types of narrative require proper spelling and grammar at all times. We are outside the characters’ heads, and are in a sense, hopping from shoulder to shoulder of each character.

And lastly, we have dialogue. This is what draws us into a character. It gives the character depth and personality. It’s what makes a character real. Now as I mentioned, we all learn spelling and grammar in school, but few people speak in the same manner we write. If I was speaking to you right now, I would say, “Hey, what’s goin’ on?” I’m less likely to say. “Hello. What is going on?” Generally, relaxed conversation just doesn’t happen that way, and it shouldn’t with your characters, either.

If every single character in a book spoke in proper spelling and grammar, we would likely feel like we were reading a documentary. People don’t speak like a text book, so for goodness sake, they shouldn’t be written to speak like one in fiction, unless that is part of the story. However. There is a balance. I can have a character say, “Hey there my man! What’s happnin’ over up that hill?” But if I were to go too far, for instance; “Hey th’r m’mayne! Waz happnin’ over’n up’n th’ hill?” It’s just too much. Although there are people who speak without pronouncing a single word correctly, they can be difficult to understand, just like it would be the case trying to read what they’re saying. A balance has to be maintained. The exception is that if there is one character that speaks this way, it can be highlighted as something that makes them different. A whole race of characters can be difficult to understand, but this must be used sparingly, lest you risk frustrating the reader and them giving up. Nothing is worse than trying to sit down and enjoy a book but having your brain scrambled trying to decipher the dialogue of a book full of characters with crazy speech patterns. That can pull you out of a story just as easily as one full of characters speaking like Rhodes scholars.

So narrate that book with impeccable spelling and grammar, and get those sentences right. But for the sake of your lovely, awesome, inspiring characters, throw in some slang, have that peasant farmer say ‘hisself’, instead of ‘himself’. Find that balance and learn to walk it well, and your readers will love you for it.

About R J Terrell:
R. J. Terrell was instantly a lover of fantasy the day he opened R. A. Salvatore’s: The Crystal Shard. Years (and many devoured books) later he decided to put pen to paper for his first novel. After a bout with aching carpals, he decided to try the keyboard instead, and the words began to flow. When not writing, he enjoys reading, video games, and long walks with his wife around Stanley Park in Vancouver BC.

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Why I Hate Flash Forwards, Except When I Don’t

March 24, 2015

fictorians

Balancing Acts Craft & Skills 1 Comment

A guest post by David Farland.

I usually just hate flash forwards. Seeing one in a story is almost always a sign that the storyteller doesn’t know what he or she is doing.

You know what a flash forward, is, right? It’s when the writer violates the timeline by showing us something that will happen at the end of the tale.

Now, I’m the first reader for one of the world’s largest short story writing contests, so I see a lot of flash forwards. Most of them start with a tremendous amount of action, with the protagonist running for his life and then getting caught. Then the story flashes back to the character living up through the events that got him there.

The problem is, that in nine out of ten cases, those events are so slow, so boring, so routine or mundane that they just can’t hold a reader’s interest. On a conscious level, the author knows this, and so he or she will tack on a flash forward as if to say, “Keep on reading. It gets better!”

The problem is that the writer knows that the scenes as they are written can’t hold a reader. Usually, that’s because there is not enough conflict early enough. The protagonist doesn’t have any real problems, or they aren’t introduced within the first three pages. Or maybe there isn’t a central mystery that needs to be solved, or there just isn’t anything that is intriguing going on. There are just a few things that can hold a reader in the opening of a story. They are:

A fascinating setting or character, a character that is in pain or facing a significant problem, or a writer’s skill as a stylist and storyteller in presenting the story in an intriguing or powerful way.

If you don’t have any of those, you need them. In fact, if you don’t have them, you really should try to incorporate all of them.

Now, generally, a flash forward tends to be problematic. You see, when I begin reading a story, your goal is to engross me—to draw me into your fictive universe, transport me into your setting, let me take on the persona of your protagonist, and virtually live through a shared dream.

But a flash forward immediately kicks the reader out of that shared dream. Why? Because as soon as the flash forward ends, you yank your reader out of the dream. It’s as if the author is saying, “Oh, I was just kidding. This isn’t a story that you can get lost in. This is just me up here.”

In real life, you will never have a flash forward. You will never suddenly find yourself living through something that will happen in nine years. We are locked into a steady sequence of events, living from one second to another, and any violation of that law in fiction will cause a reader to disengage, even for a moment. You don’t usually want that.

Yet sometimes a flash forward can work. For example, in a science fiction novel, let’s say that you have a character who has prophetic visions. Go ahead and flash forward away!

Otherwise, you have to earn the flash forward. It can be done. Perhaps my favorite example comes from the plot of the television series Breaking Bad.

Here’s a description of that dramatic opening shot: A man (Bryan Cranston) wearing only underpants and a gas mask, drives a Bounder RV recklessly down a desolate road in the New Mexico desert. Another, younger man (Aaron Paul) with a gas mask covering a severely bruised face, unconscious, occupies the passenger seat. As the vehicle swerves down the dirt road, two bodies slide across the RV floor until the vehicle veers into a ditch. The hyperventilating driver climbs out with a video camera, wallet, and gun. Identifying himself as Walter Hartwell White, he records a cryptic, handheld farewell to his wife, son, and unborn child while sirens echo in the distance. Walt then steps onto the roadway, with the gun in his hand.

WalterWhite1

So why does the flash forward work so well on Breaking Bad but fail elsewhere?

In this one, the audience really has to wonder what in the hell is going on—to the point that they’re willing to follow the story for an hour. Yeah, I really wanted to know how Walter White got himself into that kind of trouble.
The following scenes must be interesting in themselves. They are. Breaking Bad was written beautifully, with an interesting character undergoing the fight of his life as he struggles with cancer, hoping to find a way to support his wife, his handicapped son, and his unborn child after his demise.
The flash forward itself has to work as a hook for what happens next. At the end of this flash forward, Walter White appears to be making a stand—he’s going to confront the police. Too often, I see flash forwards where the protagonist dies in the flash forward, leaving no room for suspense as to what will happen next.
The flash forward has to be interesting enough so that we are an audience are willing to see it twice.
The flash forward has a twist in the end, taking us in an unexpected direction. When the flash forward does take its place into the story’s timeline, something happens afterward that changes everything—that either shows the protagonist in a new light, or shows the problem in a new light.

So, if you’re going to have a flash forward, you lose something. Most of the time, it’s not a tradeoff worth making.

If you are going to resort to a flash forward, make sure that every line of your story outside of it earns you the right!

About David Farland:

David Farland is an award-winning, New York Times bestselling author who has penned nearly fifty science fiction and fantasy novels for both adults and children. Along the way, he has also worked as the head judge for one of the world’s largest writing contests, as a creative writing instructor, as a videogame designer, as a screenwriter, and as a movie producer. You can find out more about him at his homepage at http://www.davidfarland.net/. Also check out more great advice in his book Million Dollar Outlines. And take some of his online workshops at http://mystorydoctor.com.