Writers in the Storm

by Laurie Schnebly Campbell

What is it about trios that works so well?

For starters, three creates a pattern which isn’t feasible with just one or two.

Books that feature only two people are enjoyable, sure. But when you add a third character, like a loyal sidekick or a rival or a mysterious neighbor, the trio is all the more entertaining.

Two stories -- say, an original and its sequel -- are perfectly all right. But when you add a third book and make it a trilogy, sales rise far higher.

A two-act play can be pleasurable to watch. But a three-act play, which forms the essence of most story structures, feels more integrated…more complete.

The Romans had a saying, “Omne trium perfectum,” meaning essentially “whatever comes in threes is perfect.”

That might explain popular groupings like:

• Good, better, best
• Past, present, future
• Gold, silver, bronze
• Small, medium, large
• Oldest, middle, youngest
• Mind, body, spirit

Triads feel natural. Triads feel satisfying.

We see that in stories from our earliest years of childhood: 

• Three blind mice
• The three little pigs
• Goldilocks and the three bears

Such storytelling continues into adulthood with stories (turned into movies) like:

• The Three Musketeers
• Three Coins in the Fountain
• Three Men and a Baby
• The Three Faces of Eve, and so many more

You see the rule of three in other art forms, as well. Photographers divide their image into three horizontal or three vertical segments. Comedians talk about how an X, a Y and a Z walk into a bar. Orators treasure the power of phrases like “Friends, Romans, countrymen” and “blood, sweat and tears” and “of the people, by the people, and for the people.”

So, it makes perfect sense that:

Three is a valuable number for writers.

Right off the bat, we have the beginning and middle and end. And we have narrative, dialogue and description. And we have thesis, antithesis and synthesis.

All of which can be useful in storytelling.

But even more useful than any of those trios, as far as I’m concerned, is something incredibly simple:  the basic braid.

I’ll bet you know already what the first two strands of that braid are. (No, you romance writers, they’re not Hero and Heroine. No, you mystery writers, they’re not Cop and Criminal. No, you literary writers, they’re not Protagonist and Antagonist.)

They’re the good old timeless classics of any story...Plot and Character.

In theory you could probably get a pretty decent book out of just those two strands, but adding the third is what gives you a really strong strand. Or a really strong story, as the case may be.

And the third strand is...Genre.

Now of course, some writers prefer to avoid what booksellers refer to as genre fiction. Instead, they’re busy writing what might be called mainstream, or literary, or philosophical novels.

But even so, their readers have certain expectations -- same as other readers have certain expectations of what constitutes a great crime, dystopian, fantasy, historical, horror, inspirational, mystery, paranormal, scifi, suspense/thriller, Western or women’s fiction novel.

EVERY reader expects certain things of a book. Even if they picked up a title at random, vowing not to look at the cover or blurb or reviews but to just dive in and start reading, within the first few chapters they’ll have an idea about what kind of story they’re in for.

And while surprises along the way are just fine, your reader doesn’t want to feel confused throughout the entire book. They want you to deliver the kind of experience they feel like they’ve been promised.

So it’s important to know what these readers expect when they pick up your book -- and THAT’s why genre is the third strand of your braid.

Do all three strands need to be equal?

Absolutely not. We’ve all seen decorative braids with two similar strands plus a more sparkly one adding some extra glitz.

Some books direct far more time and attention to the plot than the characters or the genre, and that works just fine. Some devote most of their attention to character development, which also works fine. And some focus primarily on the genre highlights that draw readers to this particular type of story, which also...yep.

Each of those blends can result in a fabulous book.

But a book that weaves all three strands together from beginning to end, regardless of how big each strand is, will likely be a more complete, more natural, more satisfying read.

That’s the magic of braiding.

We’ll go into more detail on what shapes your particular book during the September 6-30 class on “Your Plot-Character-Story Braid,” but while you’re thinking about tremendous, terrible and triumphant threesomes, I’ve got a question for you:

What trio comes to mind when you think of a story you loved?

It might be people, it might be settings, it might be titles, it might be something not even mentioned here. Just recall some story you’d happily read (or view, or listen to) again, and what triad in it you especially like.

And that’s our prize-drawing question.

If at least 25 people post an answer, one of ‘em will win free registration to the Braid class coming up a week from Monday. So I can’t wait to see what comes in before this weekend’s drawing.

In fact, I’m getting more and more eager…more excited…more enthusiastic…by the minute. By the hour. By the day. (Okay, enough with the trios.)

Somebody stop me. Call a halt. Cue the band.

Quickly. Right away. Lickety-split — Aaaaack!

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About Laurie

Laurie Schnebly Campbell (BookLaurie.com) always loves creating a class, so when a writer asked about “braiding” she was delighted at the chance to explore an untouched subject. Although she enjoyed braiding her own books, including one that beat out Nora Roberts for “Best Special Edition of the Year,” she enjoys teaching even more. That’s why she now has 51 first-sale novels on her bookshelf from authors inspired by her classes.

Top Image by Mabel Amber, who will one day from Pixabay

by Tasha Seegmiller

This is my last post for Writers in the Storm. I can’t say forever, because forever is a long time, but I am stepping back as a regular contributor. I want to thank everyone who has commented on my posts in the past and those who have shared great insights. <3

I was recently in an online discussion concerning a new presenter in the MasterClass series. There were several people who were excited about the new presenter but wondered if the curriculum they would have access to would be too fundamental for their current level. It’s a valid question, in particular when it comes to a class that will require a $90.00 commitment.

About the same time, I attended a training where a psychology professor talked about progression, improvement, and learning. He discussed three areas that have to work in harmony with each other for learning to really have an impact: cognitive, behavioral, and affective.

While I could try and explain what each of those mean, it is easier to simply ask the questions he asked us:

• What do I know about ________?
• What do I do about ________?
• How do I feel about ________?

How this applies to writing...

Let’s break those down with some writing ideas. Ask the same three questions and substitute one of the following:

• Character development
• A particular character (especially if feedback indicates that character is weak)
• Pacing
• Sentence structure
• Setting/World Building
• Internal Arcs
• Emotional Arcs
• Fill in the blank with the ominous part of writing that you love to hate.

Doing this practice will give us a baseline of things to consider. I don’t recommend focusing on this too deeply while in the midst of drafting – deep analysis and intentional creation can make a brain go nuts. But, if you are an outliner, this kind of practice could work well before starting.

If you lean more in the “write as I go” or the “figure it out later” camp, this is the kind of consideration that works well before launching into an edit.

And in the interim? Well, ask the next series of questions.

• What do I want to know about ________?
• What do I want to do about ________?
• How do I want to feel about _______?

The nature of some of these questions may also take you into the authorial parts of being a writer accompanying the ideas about craft.

In addition to the writing ideas listed above, consider the following:

• Book swag
• Marketing
• Building an author website
• Pitching a conference class/panel
• Entering contests
• Writing a synopsis/pitch/query letter/blurb
• Guest posting
• Book events

At this point, most writers are able to break down where they are strong and where they need some help. Essentially, we are able to place our knowledge and awareness on various places within the four stages of developing a skill.

And this brings me back to the original paragraph in this post. Are we ever at the point where taking a class wherein basic writing skills are taught wouldn’t be beneficial?

Well, that depends on individual answers to the following questions:

• Relative to what I knew about ________, what do I know now?
• Relative to what I was doing, how do I do/create/engage with ______________ now?
• Relative to what I felt about __________, how do I feel now?

Sometimes, the value of taking a class that might be basic presents a new way to think about something that has eluded us for a while. And sometimes, the value of taking a class that might be basic is that we get to really see how we have grown. Word count is great for lots of things, but taking time to reflect and understand what we have learned needs to have its place as well.

Final Thoughts

There are several ways writers can continue to learn, whether through reading blogs like this one, books about craft and creativity, online courses like MasterClass, or workshops. The key is to keep learning and to continue reaching.

Because, as we have heard, just because a writer figures out how to write one book doesn’t mean the knowledge transfers seamlessly to subsequent efforts.

What have you done to continue to grow as a writer? How do you like to recognize your growth? Please share your story with us down in the comments!

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About Tasha

Tasha Seegmiller writes about womanhood, families, mental wellness, and faith. She is a graduate of Pacific University’s MFA program and teaches composition at a regional university in the high mountain desert where her husband and three kids live.

Image by StartupStockPhotos from Pixabay

by Tiffany Yates Martin

I want to tell you about a writing tool that will generate infinite story ideas; that will almost unfailingly allow you to accrue steady word counts; that can help you solve literally any problem in your manuscript.

I know it sounds too good to be true, but this tool works—nearly infallibly—as long as you are using it.

If I promised you a tool like that for your writing, I’m guessing most authors would snatch it up and be eager to start wielding it—but you already own this tool. And I’m betting it often sits neglected in your author toolbox.

It’s your unbroken focus.

Hold on—I know it’s trite to talk about how hard it is to write in a distracted world, but for just one moment, try an exercise with me. For the rest of the day, just pay attention. Make a note—mental or actual—of every time you let your focus on whatever you’re doing or working on slip, even slightly, into something else.

Look at the following:

• Is your phone the first thing you reach for?

What do you do on it? How long does that take? Actually time it. As you’re getting ready or exercising or walking your dogs, are you reading email, scrolling social media, surfing the internet, texting or talking, reading, listening to a podcast? If you commute, do you listen to books on tape or podcasts or news or music? Talk on the phone?

• While you’re writing (or working), time your chunks of completely uninterrupted concentration on a task.

Do you get pulled away after a time to “real quick” look at email, or answer a text, or “just check this one thing” you have to know right that moment? Notice how long your distraction lasts. Notice how long it takes when you refocus on your task before your focus starts to slip again. Notice how many times you pick up your phone in an hour, in a day.

• What if you’re stuck waiting in line or for an appointment—do you immediately reach for your phone?

While you’re watching TV, are you also on the phone or your computer? While reading, do you stop to look things up or take a quick look at social media?

Just notice your behavior for a day—simply pay attention to your uninterrupted attention: where it goes, how often, for how long.

Good writing happens as a result of—at the risk of going Jack Handey on you—deep thoughts. Scattered, shallow thoughts result in underdeveloped, shallow stories. That’s not the kind most of us want to create, but rather the stories that draw readers deeply into their world, that present characters who feel fully fleshed and real, that move readers or make them think or make them see the world in a new way.

And yet most of us are constantly denying our brains that state of full concentration that allows us to fully develop stories like that.

So How Do We Focus?

There’s a Cherokee parable you may be familiar with that I’ll sum up: An elder tells his grandson there are two wolves battling inside each of us, one that is our evil impulses and one that is our good ones.

“Which one wins?” the boy asks.

The grandfather says, “The one you feed.”

Think of your focus as those two wolves: one that allows you to think deeply, concentrate fully, give yourself wholly to your writing—or any pursuit—and one that wants to take you down an internet search rabbit hole or suck you into social media or texts or emails or any other distractions.

If you want to do what computer science professor Cal Newport calls “deep work” in his bestselling book by the same title, feed the first wolf.

Here are a few simple ways you can do that:

• Pay attention: It sounds like a tautology—you pay attention by paying attention—but simply doing the exercise above as often as you can, noticing where your focus goes, can be a powerful first step in reclaiming it.

When I first did this, I realized that I was flipping between something I was working on and email or the internet about every five or ten minutes. A recent UC-Irvine study found that after your focus is broken it can take 23 minutes to regain it, so in most cases I never actually fully got my focus back before I broke it again.

How can we solve thorny plot problems, deeply develop character, or even stay oriented to the world of our stories if we are constantly fragmenting our thoughts?

• Focus on what you’re focusing on. Another seeming tautology, this one helps me keep my attention where I want it. Staying focused is like strength training—you can’t phone it in or slack off; you have to maintain the proper form and sustain the action for the full number of reps or you won’t build those muscles. And just as in weight training, the more consistently you do it, the stronger those muscles get.

It will be hard at first.

Even with the intention of concentrating on a certain thing for a period of time, I’m startled at how often I notice a powerful, insidious pull to “fact check” something really quickly, or bop into email, or just take a quick peek at social media for a brain break, or go grab a snack—especially if what I’m working on is hard or I don’t want to do it.

You can look up that perfect word or obscure research detail later. I make a quick note in brackets when I’m stuck on something to remind me to come back and fix it, e.g., “[something funny here]” or “[research time it takes to refocus].” And then I keep writing. Remember every time you stop to look something up, it will take you 23 minutes to get that deep focus back.

Strategies for Success

Multitasking is a myth, as countless studies have proven. Human brains cannot effectively focus on more than one task at a time. What you’re actually doing is breaking your form. Set blocks of time—whatever works best for you (I like 30 to 90 minutes at a pop)—where you resolve not to allow your truculent brain to wander anywhere else, at all, and rigidly stick to it.

• Put away your phone: Don’t just silence the ringer—keep your phone in another room while you’re writing. A University of Texas study found that simply having a phone nearby interferes with your brain function—even if it’s off, a stunning effect. We existed for many years without being able to be contacted instantly, and the chances of there being a true emergency that requires specifically and only you in the time block you set aside for writing are small.

• Take breaks. Your brain works on problems subconsciously as well as consciously, so trying to bulldoze your concentration for too long could undermine this essential aspect of deep thinking.

Having an off switch is good—your brain needs the rest, and often the problems you’ve been focusing on will keep perking in the background while you give it one. The trick is to make sure you’re doing it intentionally, rather than your focus being hijacked, and that it’s true downtime, not more of that same kind of distraction, leaping from thought to random thought like a capuchin monkey trained by our habitual lack of focus.

Stand up, take a walk, do jumping jacks, play with your kids or pets, even scroll social media if you must. (Though be aware it’s literally designed to suck your brain and be addictive.) Just be sure to keep the break to a defined period of time so it doesn’t leak into the rest of your focus blocks for the day.

You might also work on something else that requires less focus or a different part of your brain. I often switch from deep editing, for instance, to a brief break of something like working on my website redesign, or writing a blog post, or interviewing an author for my How Writers Revise feature.

• Let yourself be “bored.” Too often we reach for distraction the moment we aren’t “doing something,” like in the enforced downtime of waiting in line or for an appointment, traveling, exercising, etc. Instead, try using this time for specific focused thought: Keep your mind on task unraveling an issue you’re struggling with in your story, for instance, or work through your plot or character development. Make sure you do it in a concrete way, not idle flitting thoughts loosely related to the topic.

Give yourself that quiet, focused downtime for deep thinking where ideas are born, where story knots are worked out. You may find you’re never bored.

And stay present in those moments where you are gathering information for your storytelling (in other words, life), rather than burying your head—and your focus—in your computer or your phone. Don’t lose the present moment by “leaving” it with your distracted attention. Everyday experiences—both your own and those you observe—are rich fodder for story. Let yourself fully live them.

• Practice…again and again. Just as in meditation, when we learn to bring our wayward thoughts back over and over and over, you may have to do the same with your wandering concentration. It’s hard, as I’m learning daily each time I think I’m focusing and I notice my concentration has drifted. That’s okay. Don’t judge or get upset with yourself—simply bring your focus back to the task at hand as soon as you notice it wandered. Like any habit, it will take time to really internalize it.

How about you, authors--do you find your focus to be slippery when you’re writing? How often? What distractions fracture your attention? What techniques do you have to combat them? Please share your story down in the comments!

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About Tiffany

Tiffany Yates Martin has spent nearly thirty years as an editor in the publishing industry, working with major publishers and New York Times, Washington Post, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling and award-winning authors as well as indie and newer writers, and is the founder of FoxPrint Editorial and author of the bestseller Intuitive Editing: A Creative and Practical Guide to Revising Your Writing.  Under the pen name Phoebe Fox, she's the author of six novels, including the upcoming The Way We Weren't (Nov., Berkley/PRH). Visit her at www.foxprinteditorial.com or www.phoebefoxauthor.com.

Image by Thomas B. from Pixabay