Writers in the Storm

by RJ Redden

I'm running an experiment: one chapter, six mirrors, and an honest report in 90 days. Here's what a mirror is, and why I'm hanging them.

No one remembers the doors closing.

By doors, I mean the old ways of getting found. Ten years ago, I worked with entrepreneurs, and we were already talking about being squeezed out. Companies with big advertising budgets could pay to show up everywhere their customers looked. Those of us with small budgets got drowned out.

It didn't happen in a day. Nobody slammed anything. The doors just opened for fewer of us every year, so slowly that nobody noticed the moment they stopped opening at all. (Very sneaky of them, really.)

Writers have their own version of those doors: a publisher's marketing push, a spot on the bookstore table, an ad that people actually notice. You can write a good book and still have nobody find it. On my calls with writers, the same three wishes keep coming up: a place for their people, less overwhelm, and to be found. That last one is the one I keep thinking about.

So I Quit Hunting for a Door

When my serial launched, I stopped waiting for one of those doors to open. I started hanging mirrors instead.

Allow me to explain…

I'm writing a fantasy serial called the Come Write Inn. Pumpkina the halfling and Sway the dwarf wake up on a strange ship in a midnight storm, and nobody remembers getting on board.

A new chapter goes up every Thursday on my Substack, free to read.

What I Mean by a Mirror

A mirror is a piece of your story in a different form: a short video, a recording, an image, or something you can hold. It shows up where your writing doesn't, and it points the way back to the page.

The best mirrors are made from what never made it onto the page.

• The backstory you cut
• A side character's version of events
• The thing your character would say if you let them talk for a minute.

For my serial, that's Pumpkina confessing her side of a terrible night, and a parrot posting one-star reviews of the ship. Neither scene appears in the chapter. Both exist to send you to the original story.

(If you read my earlier post here, Don't Delete That!, this is that idea all grown up.)

And sometimes, a mirror is the same words in a new shape: the chapter read out loud, or painted stroke by stroke while you listen.

I chose mirrors for three reasons.

#1 - A mirror shows the story without being the story.

The writing comes first. Always. Everything else reflects it from a different angle, and a mirror can only reflect what's standing in front of it. If the chapter doesn't hold up, six mirrors just give a stranger six chances to notice.

#2 - A mirror lets people see what they can't see from where they're standing.

Think of the round mirror at a blind corner in a parking garage. A stranger scrolling YouTube, or picking a podcast for the drive home, can't see my chapter from there. A mirror hung in that spot gives them a glimpse of it, and shows them the way to the real thing.

#3 - Nobody has to give you permission to hang a mirror.

Doors belong to gatekeepers: publishers, ad platforms, and the algorithms that decide what gets shown to whom.

Someone else decides whether a door opens. A mirror, I can hang myself, anywhere, today.

That last reason is the one that hooked me. It turns getting found into an experiment I can actually run, instead of a door I have to wait outside.

The Experiment: One Chapter, Six Mirrors

Chapter 1 is called Salt. It went up on a Thursday. By the following Monday, it had six mirrors around it, each one somewhere strangers already spend their time:

1. An audio version, read in my own voice, on Spotify and in the Substack app, as Come Write Inn Radio.
2. A painted film, on YouTube, on the Come Write Inn channel. Five paintings draw themselves, stroke by stroke, while I read the chapter aloud.
3. Squawk, a short video on YouTube and TikTok, from the Inn's very own review site. It's run by a parrot with opinions and a quill. The ship got one starfish from the guy on the bucket line. The captain gave his own crossing five. (Of course he did.)
4. Pumpkina's Confession, a short video on the same apps. She rambles about the night, apologizes for rambling, finds something in her apron pocket, and gets cut off mid-sentence.
5. With Feeling, a third short video. Sway and the captain each tell their side of the same morning. Their stories do not match.
6. The Barkeep's mug, in the Inn's little shop. (More on that in a minute.)

The question I'm testing: Which of these places actually sends a stranger back to read the chapter?

Is it working? I have no idea yet. It's early days.

Here's how I'll score it.

Every mirror except the mug points back to my Substack, so in 90 days I'll look at every new subscriber who arrived since the experiment started, and what brought them in. That's the main scoreboard.

Second, I'll look at whether any of these channels grew an engaged audience of its own along the way: people who watch, comment and come back.

Quick honesty break

(Because I'd rather say it than have it pried out of me.)

The paintings in the film (and the pictures in this post), the music, and the character voices in the short videos are made with AI tools.

The world, the characters and the story are mine, and so is the voice reading it. (The Barkeep's one dry line at the end of Pumpkina's video? That's me.)

And the fancy versions are not the point.

The audio, the reviews and the confession all have a phone-and-an-afternoon version. Your Squawk could be one grumpy review typed over a photo of your setting.

What Each Mirror Shows That the Page Can't

Every mirror has to answer one question before it's worth making: what does this show that the page can't?

• The audio carries my voice and the timing of the jokes.
• The film shows what the ship actually looks like.
• The confession shows who Pumpkina is when nobody is editing her.

Each one reaches strangers a different way.

Getting found mostly comes down to putting a piece of your story where strangers already spend their time, then giving them a clear way back to the words.

Book Discoverability Ideas for Every Budget and Energy Level

Your story can show up in more places than you think. Most of these need nothing fancier than the phone in your pocket.

Here are seven, from simplest to hardest to make.

1. Read it out loud.

Hangs in: podcast apps, and in people's earbuds on the commute.

Shows: your voice, your timing, the jokes landing exactly where you meant them. A phone and a quiet room will do.

2. A letter from your character.

Hangs in: your newsletter, or tucked into a bag at a signing table.

Shows: the character from the inside, in words they would never say out loud.

3. A recipe from your world.

Hangs in: Pinterest boards and actual kitchens.

Shows: what your world tastes like. (Ask me about the forty-seven extracts.)

4. Reviews from inside your world.

Hangs in: social media feeds, as a simple image or a few seconds of video.

Shows: your world's sense of humor. One grumpy review from a soggy sailor tells a stranger more about your world than any back-cover blurb.

5. A short confession video.

Hangs in: YouTube Shorts and TikTok.

Shows: personality. Let one character ramble, then cut them off right before the good part. People will go looking for the rest.

6. Merch with a line on it.

Hangs in: offices, laptop lids and kitchen cupboards.

Shows: that somebody loved your story enough to carry it around.

A mug goes to offices and coffee shops you'll never visit, and waits for someone to ask, "What's that from?"

Mine is the Barkeep's own mug, the Flagon of Rejuvenation. Its description says the Barkeep does not achieve consciousness until mug two. I am the Barkeep. I have no further comment.

7. A painted or animated film.

Hangs in: YouTube.

Shows: what your world looks like when it moves. This is the hardest one to make. It's also the one I can't stop playing with.

You Only Need One Mirror

Please do not hang all seven this week. (Says the woman who hung five in four days.)

Overwhelm is way too heavy, so just pick one. Pick the one that fits your energy, your budget and the story you already have. One mirror, made well, beats seven made in a panic.

Run the Experiment With Me

Here's my promise. In about 90 days, I'll share my results, back here if Writers in the Storm will have me, and on my Substack.

I’ll report honest results:

• which mirrors brought in new subscribers
• which ones grew a crowd of their own
• which ones got watched and sent nobody
• which ones I stopped making.

I'll report the good, the bad and the slightly embarrassing.

I'd love company while I find out. Pick one mirror. Make it this month. Then come back and tell me how it went.

So tell me... Which mirror would you hang first, and where? Drop it in the comments. I read every one. (Squawk may even leave a review.)

Want Company While YOU Build?

If you'd like help building a mirror or two, come spend a free week in my NO BS AI™ Guild.

There's live training every week, a community doing this together, and me being the guide on the side. On day one, you set the dials on your AI: what it may take off your desk, and where it never goes.

You'll pop a card in at checkout, and on day eight it rolls into membership at $97 a month unless you cancel first. (Canceling takes a couple of clicks.)

Start your free week at nobsai.now/free-week.

About RJ

RJ Redden builds time machines. They run on AI. They skip you past the busywork and drop you off at someday: the book, the world, the business you keep meaning to create. You drive. She rides shotgun. She's a storyteller, the keeper of the Come Write Inn, and the guide behind NO BS AI. Pull up a stool at comewriteinn.com.

This post was drafted with AI assistance and finished with a very opinionated red pen.

by Janice Hardy

Voice isn't what people think it is.

In my two decades of teaching, I’ve met so many writers who have struggled with creating character voice, and none of the advice or tips they tried worked for them.

And I know why.

These writers were probably looking at ways to “write character voices” as if it was something separate from the character, a trick or technique that “made voice happen.”

Normally, this is where I’d say “but voice doesn’t just happen,” but it actually kinda does.

But only if your point of view is strong enough to reveal it. Because…

Voice is what a character notices and how they feel about what they notice.

When you're writing through the perspective of the character (or narrator), their opinions come through in every line. You use words they’d use, and judge what’s seen how they would judge it.

But when your point of view is weak, the story feels detached and generic. Readers lose interest and start skimming, since there's no one on the page for them to connect with.

Sure, they can see everything that happens, but nothing feels personal, and every character sounds pretty much the same. There’s no voice because there’s no sense of character at all.

Let's look at an example.

Here's a scene from a bestselling novel, but I stripped out all the point of view:

Conscription day has the highest casualty rate of the year. The sunrise is unusually bright this morning, brighter than it has been recently.

I tighten the straps of my heavy canvas rucksack and climb the wide staircase of the stone fortress where I live. I am breathing hard and my lungs hurt by the time I reach the stone corridor leading to General Sorrengail's office. I have completed six months of intense physical training, and I am still short of breath after six flights of stairs with a thirty-pound pack.

This is a problem.

It’s not awful, but notice how little personality (hence, voice) is in this. Even though it’s first person, all you get are the details and the explanations. It’s facts, not judgments or opinions.

But compare it to this one.

Contrast this to the original, from Rebecca Yarros’ Fourth Wing:

Conscription day is always the deadliest. Maybe that’s why the sunrise is especially beautiful this morning—because I know it might be my last.

I tighten the straps of my heavy canvas rucksack and trudge up the wide staircase of the stone fortress I call home. My chest heaves with exertion, my lungs burning by the time I reach the stone corridor leading to General Sorrengail’s office. This is what six months of intense physical training has given me—the ability to barely climb six flights of stairs with a thirty-pound pack.

I’m so f***ed.

Big difference, right?

This tells you just as much about the point of view character as it does the situation she’s in, because we see this world through her eyes. It shows what’s important to her and why.

Look at the specific words and phrases used here:

• because I know it might be my last.
• trudge up the wide staircase of the stone fortress I call home
• My chest heaves with exertion, my lungs burning
• This is what six months of intense physical training has given me—the ability to barely climb six flights of stairs with a thirty-pound pack.
• I’m so f***ed.

All of these are how the point of view character feels about climbing those stairs on that day, and unlike the non-point of view version, you get a much better sense that what’s waiting at the top of those stairs is not good.

The facts are the same. It’s still conscription day, she’s still climbing six flights of stairs, and she’s still out of breath. The only thing that changed is who’s telling us about it.

That’s voice.

Which is why when your point of view is weak, your voice disappears.

The details are chosen by what you think the reader needs to know, not by what the character cares about. And that creates distance between character and readers, so they get information instead of experience.

And the tricky part?

A weak point of view isn’t always obvious. Like my stripped Fourth Wing example, it’s often technically fine. It just doesn’t feel like anyone’s living behind the words.

A few signs your point of view might be keeping your voice from showing up:

• Your descriptions are just inventories of what's in the room, not what your character notices or how they feel about it.
• Your character sees, hears, and feels a lot, with tons of filter words between the reader and the character.
• Emotions are told, not shown. "She was nervous" instead of a nervous person's thoughts and judgments.
• The language is what you’d use, not what the character would use.

If any (or all) of these sound familiar, don't panic.

Not taking advantage of your point of view is one of the most common issues I see in manuscripts.

The good news?

You can totally fix that. Just look at the scene through your character's eyes and ask:

• What would this character notice first? What would they miss or ignore?
• How do they feel about the world around them?
• What specific words would they use to describe it?
• How do their opinions color what they see?

Then edit with that character’s perspective.

And the voice you've been looking for will appear.

New Workshop

If this made a few lightbulbs flicker for you, join me for my free online workshop, “It's Not Voice, It's Point of View,” on Thursday, November 5th, from 7:00 - 8:30 pm EST.

You can register for it here.

And if you'd like more tips like this, sign up for my Narrative Nuggets list. It's story-based writing advice delivered right to your inbox, and as a thank you for subscribing, you'll get my 25 Ways to Strengthen Your Writing Right Now PDF for free.

Do you struggle with Character Voice, Point of View, or both? Did you have any lightbulb moments while reading this post? Please share your struggles and a-ha moments down in the comments!

About Janice

Janice Hardy is the award-winning author and founder of the popular writing site Fiction University, where she helps writers improve their craft and navigate the crazy world of publishing. Not only does she write about writing, but she teaches workshops across the country, and her blog has been recognized as a Top Writing Blog by Writer’s Digest. She also spins tales of adventure for both teens and adults, and firmly believes that doing terrible things to her characters makes them more interesting (in a good way). She loves talking with writers and readers, and encourages questions of all types—even the weird ones.

by Ellen Buikema

The seven main types of conflict in fictional stories are Individual versus:

• Fate
• Individual
• Nature
• Self
• Society
• Supernatural
• Technology

Each type of conflict illustrates a struggle between forces that move the story forward. These conflicts are important in storytelling as they are essential for character development as well as driving the plot.

The Conflicts Defined

Individual versus Fate

• Characters deal with destiny.
• Explores themes of free will versus what is predetermined.
• Examples in literature: the Torrance family and the Overlook Hotel in The Shining; Geralt of Rivia and destiny in The Witcher series

Individual versus Individual

• A struggle between two characters, frequently the protagonist and antagonist.
• Examples include battles, disputes, or rivalries.
• Examples in literature: Javert and Jean Valjean in Les Misérables; Dorothy and the Wicked Witch in The Wizard of Oz.

Individual versus Nature

• Characters face challenges from natural forces.
• Examples include survival against natural disasters, weather, or wild animals.
• Examples in literature: Martin Brody and the great white shark in Jaws; Pi and the tiger in Life of Pi

Individual versus Self

• This internal conflict occurs when a character struggles with their beliefs, emotions, or thoughts.
• Frequently involves moral dilemmas or personal growth.
• For example, Star Wars and the inner conflict between good and evil. Anikin gives in to evil—the dark side—to gain power. His son Luke takes the good path—choosing goodness over power—restoring balance to the galaxy. In Hamlet, Hamlet struggles with the morality of avenging his father's death.

Individual versus Society

• Characters confront cultural expectations, societal norms, or laws.
• Examples include stories about rebellion against traditions or oppressive systems.
• Examples in literature: Atticus Finch and his community in To Kill a Mockingbird; Offred and the Sons of Jacob in The Handmaid’s Tale.

Individual versus Supernatural

• Characters face otherworldly forces: ghosts, elementals, ghosts, goddesses, gods, or monsters.
• Examples include horror or fantasy stories with characters who encounter supernatural entities.
• Examples in literature: Eleanor Vance and The Hill House in the horror story The Haunting of Hill House; Diana Bishop and her unwanted powers in the fantasy/supernatural A Discovery of Witches.

Individual versus Technology

• Characters struggle against technological forces or tech advancements.
• Examples include battles against machines or moral dilemmas posed by scientific breakthroughs.
• Examples in literature: The Murderbots and the people/corporations who use them for security purpose in The Murderbot Diaries; The onboard computer HAL and the astronauts en route to Jupiter in 2001: A Space Odyssey

Understanding these types of conflict can make stories more appealing. Readers love conflict.

Lack of Conflict

Consider a hero. This individual is given a goal and warned that the road to get there will be hard. The hero, gifted in all ways, swats away each challenge confronted with, easily slaying all monsters in the path, reaching the goal. Huzzah. Well, that was anticlimactic.

If the story isn’t compelling, why bother to read it?

Consider the same hero. Don’t make the road smooth. Give it lots of twists, turns, bumps, and pot holes. Natural conflicts.

Try applying all seven main types of conflict.

Fate

The hero’s destiny is to save the village from a shapeshifter whose goal is to enslave the villagers.

Individual

Shapeshifter and hero know at least one of each other’s weaknesses, but it’s the same one. Both are enamored of the same person. A healer who lives in the village.

Nature

The shapeshifter lives in an area surrounded by plants that the hero has allergies to, and is located in difficult terrain.

Self

The hero is conflicted, one - the shapeshifter is the brother of an old friend, and two – the hero planned to leave the village for a better, more comfortable situation.

Society

The hero has always adhered to the society’s rules but the shapeshifter feels above all rules. The hero must decide whether to bend or break rules ingrained from a lifetime to achieve the goal of saving the village.

Supernatural

Being an empath, the hero feels but does not see the elemental spirits that live just outside the village, on the way to the shapeshifter's lair. The elementals are often tricksters.

Technology

The shapeshifter’s lair is sheltered by a cloaking technology unknown to the villagers. The hero must learn how to pierce the cloak to enter the lair.

Consider genre when choosing conflict types.

If you’re writing a romance, individual vs. individual and/or individual vs. society are typical types of conflict. For horror, individual vs. the supernatural, individual vs. technology, and/or individual vs. nature works well.

Individual vs. self fits in any genre.

Whatever your genre, it’s important to decide which conflicts matter most to your story. For example, if you’re writing romance that takes place in a haunted Airbnb you may discover that the individual vs. individual conflict matters more to your story’s goals than the individual vs. the supernatural. So, you’ll spend more time writing the love angle than the spooky vacation rental.

But, if you’re writing a horror story that has a bit of romance in the subplot, you may end up spending more time exploring the person vs. the supernatural conflict than the person vs. person. It’s your creation, so you get to decide which way to go.

Final Thoughts

Take a look at your story and find the types of conflict that appear naturally. Consider the following:

• Who or what is threatening your character? Why?
• What is your character’s main goal, and what happens if the goal is not attained?
• Does your character need to choose between two or more things? If yes, what is the internal and external reaction to these choices?
• How will the character change over the course of the story?

* * * * * *

About Ellen

Author, speaker, and former teacher, Ellen L. Buikema has written Parenting ... A Work in Progress, non-fiction for parents, and The Adventures of Charlie Chameleon chapter book series with stories encouraging the development of empathy—sprinkling humor wherever possible. Her Works in Progress are The Hobo Code, YA historical fiction and The Crystal Key, MG Magical Realism/ Sci-Fi, a glaze of time travel.

Find her at https://ellenbuikema.com or on Amazon.

Top Image by Gerd Altmann from Pixabay