Got you at F-words, huh? That's okay. All these f-words are fine to use in whatever company you happen to be in right now. No one will wrinkle a brow once they get past the title, so there's no need to angle your screen or slouch and look over your shoulder.
In today's world of publishing, catching—and keeping—a reader's attention is rarely easy. Today I'm sharing six words to help you craft characters that no one would dub as "cardboard." Incorporate as many of these ideas as your story can handle, and you will also create backstory and plots that readers can identify and connect with, no matter the genre you write.
Failures: Whether it's in the past or the present, or looms in the immediate future, failure is a shared human experience. Whether it's the fear of future failure, the frightening effects failure can have on a character's life (can you imagine a lawyer's failed arguments that send an innocent client to Death Row?), or failure in the past that affects a characters belief system or perspective, failure has many degrees and always carries unseen ramifications.
Flaws: From minor to major character flaws, everyone can sympathize or form opinions of a character based on their flaws. When these flaws are skillfully revealed through backstory, dialogue, internal monologue or actions, we see the character dealing with their weaknesses. This gives us an opportunity for showing growth and character arcs, as well as the possibility for humorous plot situations because our protagonist tries to compensate for their shortcomings.
Frustrations: Plot twists, secondary characters, Mother Nature, past actions, relatives and friends—these can all have varying degrees of frustration. In a romance, frustration about the pace of growing feelings (too slow for one partner, too fast for the other) can provide many opportunities for revealing how your characters deal with adversity and other people or situations.
Firsts: We're rarely at our best the first time we try something. This is probably true for our characters, too. Remember the first time you put the car in gear and drove out of the garage or driveway onto the street? The first time you had to make a lane change or merge onto the freeway? Oh, maybe there was some…
Fear: I thought about putting this one first, but having a character who is always afraid isn't compelling. Having a strong, confident, successful character who has a debilitating fear of, say, spiders, could be interesting if we see that fear and the backstory gradually layered in to reveal the why of the fear. Then we see how someone used that fear to scare the helpless child, and how that fear grew into something bigger than just the fear of spiders. The determination to overcome the fear can bring a wealth of story ideas via secondary characters, action required to attain something of great importance, or character arc growth.
Funny: Even if you're writing a thriller, a funny detail or an expression can defuse a tense scene, relaxing characters for the next terror. A fun-filled memory can inform readers about another side of an otherwise staid character. Something that has the reader giggling, that the protagonist does not admit or recognize as funny, can be that much funnier and show us something about the character as well. And what about the place of a character who just wants to have fun, or the humorous side-kick? There is a big difference between a character who can laugh at herself versus one who refuses to acknowledge funny remarks.
Do you have an f-word that helps you write more compelling characters or stories? Please share it with us and tell us how you use it.
About Fae
Fae Rowen discovered the romance genre after years as a science fiction freak. Writing futuristics and medieval paranormals, she jokes that she can live anywhere but the present. As a mathematician, she knows life’s a lot more fun when you get to define your world and its rules.
P.R.I.S.M., Fae's debut book, a young adult science fiction romance story of survival, betrayal, resolve, deceit, and love is now available at Amazon and Barnes and Noble.
Avoid unlikeable main characters. Show don’t tell. Lock your character into character. Tell your story forward. Pass on passive verbs. Say bye-bye to backstory. Nix the omniscient narrator and dodge the dreaded head hop. Always remember adjectives are lazy, exclamation points are evil, and adverbs are from the devil. And for goodness sake, don’t forget to cover the mirror—main characters can’t ever describe themselves.
Those are just a
few of the writing rules we’re taught to follow.
Sometimes writing
a story feels like stumbling through Dante’s Inferno. A lot of don’ts punctuated
with a stern warning that you’ll be tossed into writer’s hell—an editor’s
circular file—if you do.
Why the Rules?
People need
rules. Otherwise life would be chaos. But like parents, we writers can drift away
from the reasons behind the rules and
take a because-I-said-so approach. Sometimes that works. Sometimes it feeds the
chaos. Other times, it kills your creativity.
Let’s look at the real reason behind
the writing rules. The key to hooking a reader’s attention is evoking emotion. In
order to evoke emotion, you need a clear
picture of what’s going on in the scene.
Clarity Evokes Emotion à
Emotion Hooks Readers
Readers need to understand what you’re
writing. If they struggle to see the story, your message will get lost in
translation. A few of us write for ourselves, but most of us write for other
people. As storytellers, we want to create a mood, set a tone, mold a world. Often,
we get so caught up in the excitement of sharing the magic unfolding in our
heads that we forget a reader can only experience what we write.
Think about that for a minute. Not what
we meant to write. Or wanted to write. Or should write. But what we actually write. The literal words we
put on the page.
Clarity
Outside and In
Paint the Outside of Your Scene
Before we dive into emotion, show us the
physical, concrete aspects of the story. Think of this in movie terms.
Where’s the location?
What are the props?
Who are the people?
What are those people doing?
Close your eyes, conjure up that
beautiful stage you’ve set . . . and write that down. Make sure you’ve given us
a clear enough image that we see what you want us to see. This picture doesn’t
have to be so detailed we get buried in the description. Sometimes less is
more. If you say, “a crowd of teens at a mall,” we instantly get an
illustration of both the place and the people. If you say nothing, we get unoccupied
white space.
Paint the Inside of Your Scene
Think in terms beyond what your
character wants to why she wants it.
What’s her motivation? What’s she thinking? The internal journey of your
character is as crucial as the external journey.
If you want us to know she struggles
with intimacy because her mom abandoned her, you have to put it on the page. So
many of my editing clients explain a character’s motivation to me after I question that character’s
actions. Which is great. It then makes perfect sense. But when I ask them to
point out where they’ve revealed that to the reader on the page, they can’t.
It’s not there.
Writers, believe it or not, we can’t
read your minds. Ridiculous, right? I mean, it would be so much easier if we
could. But since we don’t live in a dystopian society where mindreading is as
common as sleeping, that’s where the rules come in. They serve as a guide for
clarity.
Why Not the Rules?
So . . . when do you use writing rules
and when do you ditch them?
There’s a difference between being
mysterious and being vague. I’ve had many writers tell me they don’t want to
reveal everything upfront. Well, good. You shouldn’t. The unfolding of a story
is part of what keeps your reader turning the pages.
But if John’s standing at the top of
the stairs and he’s about to fall and break his legs, we first need to see him standing at the top of the stairs.
That’s not a mystery. That’s what’s physically happening in the scene. The
mystery could be why he’s there. Or
who pushes him. As long as you hint that the why is important to the plot, and that it will eventually be
revealed, we don’t need to know upfront.
If you break a rule, make it count. Make sure it works. Make
sure you haven’t sacrificed clarity. In other words, do it right. Have a
reason. A real reason.
Let’s go back to
the rules I listed in the beginning and break them.
Avoid Unlikeable Main Characters
Some of our favorite characters do bad things. Think Darth Vader in Star Wars, Voldemort in Harry Potter, Negan in The Walking Dead, and Joffrey in Game of Thrones. They’re evil. But they’re also interesting. And interesting evokes emotion.
Go ahead and write that unlikeable main character. But make us love to hate him. Or, even better, make us want to root for him. Slip in a redeeming quality or moment of weakness. Show a compelling motivation for otherwise reprehensible actions. Let someone we do like care about him.
Show Don’t Tell
If you showed everything that happened in your book, you’d end up with 300,000 pages. When you need to keep moving forward, telling is okay. But understand that telling doesn’t usually evoke emotion. If you want something to be important to the reader, it needs to be important to the character and stand out. We want to see it, not hear about it. That’s where showing shines.
I love this quote from Mark Twain. “Don't tell us that the old lady screamed. Bring her on and let her scream.”
Keep Your Character in Character
Your
character can do anything you want—including act out of character—with the
right motivation. That’s real life. A moral and upstanding citizen will commit
a crime to save his family. A criminal will reform to have a family. Pushing
your character out of his comfort zone creates conflict. And . . . you guessed
it . . . conflict creates emotion.
Tell Your Story Forward
Except
if that isn’t the kind of story you’re telling. Do you have a dual past/present
storyline like The Notebook? Do you
open with the end and work back to the beginning like Memento? Do multiple characters each share the story from their
point of view like Vantage Point? Use
this technique on purpose as a device to frame your story. Don’t skip around
just because.
Pass on Passive Verbs
While
strong verbs are usually best because they strengthen your writing, sometimes
you just need to state something that’s not very important and move on. Other
times, you want the action to be passive. Your description of the subtle, soft
dripping of a faucet in the background won’t be loaded with power verbs.
Say Bye-Bye to Backstory.
We
need backstory, just not in huge dumps that interrupt, slow the pacing, and
pull us out of the present story. Get creative. Use previous events to draw us
deeper into your character’s head. Show how the past impacts her feelings and
her future.
Example: Up until today, I hadn’t said much about my sister’s Josh addiction. Not last summer, when she started lying to Dad. Not last fall, when she slid homework into the optional category. Not even last month, when she gave up being cheer captain.
Nix the Omniscient Narrator and the Dreaded Head Hop
Gone are the times of a narrator looking down on the world and filling the reader in on what everyone was thinking. Readers want to be in the story. And the way they do that is to become your main character and experience his world. Omniscient narrators make that connection almost impossible.
In certain cases, like The Book Thief, it works. But use this technique for a reason. Does it build emotion? Add to the tension? Do we get a glimpse of a serial killer you want to keep in the shadows that has us jumping up to turn on all the lights?
Adjectives are Lazy. Exclamation Points are Evil. Adverbs are From the Devil.
I kind
of agree on this one but only because there are so many better ways to paint a
word picture that strengthen rather than weaken your story. Adjectives can be
helpful if you watch out for overload. Every so often, you might need an
exclamation point as a quick way to show someone yelling. But keep in mind that
if you emphasize everything, nothing will stand out. And yes, on the rare
occasion, an adverb might be called for. Make it a great one.
Cover the Mirror
Main
characters can describe themselves if
they do it right. We tend to think about ourselves in relation to the world
around us. I think about my hair being blonde when it starts to go gray. I
think about the clothes I’m wearing when they’re too tight. I think about my
makeup when everyone I pass on the street stares. Go ahead. Put your character in
front of a mirror. But make it a funhouse mirror that emphasizes her faults and
grows them larger than life.
The Take-Away
Straying from the rules can take more skill than following them. Don’t accidentally break them, decide to break them. But before you do, think of them in terms of clarity and emotion.
Ask these three questions:
Is what’s going on in the scene still clear, or did you blur the visual too far outside the reader’s focus so they can’t see what’s physically happening?
Are you ramping up emotion or watering down your craft?
Does the integrity of the story hold, or are you manipulating it to fit your plot?
Thoughts on breaking the rules? Great examples? Share them in the comments.
About Lori
An encourager at heart, author, editor, and writing coach Lori Freeland believes everyone has a story to tell. She holds a BA in psychology from the University of Wisconsin and currently lives in the Dallas area. She's presented multiple workshops at writer's conferences across the country and writes everything from non-fiction to short stories to novels—YA to adult. When she's not curled up with her husband drinking too much coffee and worrying about her kids, she loves to mess with the lives of the imaginary people living in her head. You can find Where You Belong, as well as her young adult and contemporary romance, at lorifreeland.com and her inspirational blog and writing tips at lafreeland.com. Her latest release, The Accidental Boyfriend, is currently up on the Radish app. Download the app for free.
Why do the first 10% and the last 10% of your book deserve far more than attention than what you give the remaining 80% of the story? That doesn’t seem fair.
Especially when we look at those lucky writers who are continuing various series which already have millions of fans. THEY don’t need to worry about making their next opening and closing incredibly wonderful!
Nope, drat it, that task is solely for authors who want to grab brand new readers from the very first paragraph of a book -- and then leave 'em so satisfied with the ending that they’ll immediately buy whatever this author writes next.
Boffo beginnings are the most effective way of ensuring that
anyone who glances at page 1 will keep reading…and reading…and reading.
What
else keeps them reading?
Sure, they might ALSO continue through the story if their
best friend insisted “you’re gonna love this book even though it seems kind of
dull at first.”
Or if the cover model looks so much like their dream hero
that they’ve got to see what happens.
Or if they’re stuck on a six-hour flight and have already
finished their only other reading materials.
But why go after readers like those? It’s better if you can
get their best friend insisting, “I couldn’t put it down,” because that way
they’ll keep reading no matter how short the flight is or how uninspiring the
cover model might be.
Regardless of what got a reader started on your book, it’s ideal to have someone take in the first sentence
…then the first paragraph…and immediately want to keep going.
That means you’ve grabbed 'em. You’ve found the right answers to questions like:
Which is more entertaining, dialogue or narrative?
Which is more engrossing, action or emotion?
Which is more engaging, characters or situation?
You probably already know what works best for drawing YOU
into a story you want to keep reading…or writing.
How can you build on that interest and make it even more compelling?
Once you’ve done that, you’ve got a boffo beginning.
Think about the books whose opening you still remember vividly.
It’s surprising how often people can quote the first line of something they read years ago, and yet how seldom they can describe an entire opening scene.
Yet it’s the first scene, not the first line, which will keep
your readers moving onto Chapter Two.
So what does your first scene need to do?
Tell the readers what’s going on, or just give them a hint?
Put us right in the viewpoint of a major character, or open with a secondary character in a more dramatic situation?
Reveal what’s at stake now, or save that news for when the character learns it?
And once the main character/s and their plot are introduced,
you’re still not finished with the beginning. In order to make sure the reader
won’t turn away once they’ve reached the first scene break, you need to
establish:
What kind of action we can expect
What kind of emotion we can expect
What the overall tone will be like
How much dialogue and description there’ll be
And, most important of all:
Why
these characters will stay interesting
Is it their mission / goal?
Is it their personality / motivation?
Is it their situation / conflict?
Is it all three?
Your blend will be different, of course, depending on the
story you’re writing. Your audience will have its own expectations, and they
need to feel confident you can deliver the kind of experience they wanted when
they picked up your novel.
That’ll be your job throughout the next 80% of the book, which -- although it’s what keeps 'em reading -- doesn’t count as part of your opening or your closing.
But speaking of closing, let’s move onto the fabulous finale.
Are you
keeping the promise of the beginning?
That’s only the first question to address, but it’s a big
one. The reader who picked up your book might have had some generic expectation
of “a cozy mystery” or “a historical romance” when they opened to page 1, but
your beginning promised a lot more than that.
It promised a certain level of tension, from relaxing to
nail-biting.
It promised a story that would keep this reader engrossed all the way through.
It promised some compelling twists and turns, whether gentle
or abrupt, before the final chapter.
It promised a world that the reader would enjoy discovering
more of, whether the setting is comfortably familiar or excitingly different.
And it promised a style of story telling that resonated with
this person -- something they already know they love, or something that has
them anticipating a whole new discovery.
You delivered all of that with your beginning.
So you need to deliver it with the ending, as well -- plus whipped cream and a cherry on top.
There are tricks for accomplishing that, both in your opening
and closing. But rather than get into a whole two weeks of material, let’s look
at the openings and closings you’ve liked especially well.
Because
that’s the prize-drawing question.
Someone who sends in a description of whatever made some book’s first or final words (whether a sentence or an entire scene) resonate with them will win free registration to Boffo Beginnings & Fab Finales at WriterUniv.com, starting a week from Monday.
So here’s your chance to share with other WITS readers:
What comes to mind when you think of a story whose opening you loved?
What ending made you want to read every single other book this author has ever written?
I’ll draw names from the next 24 hours’ worth of comments
(even if you can’t decide on your favorite beginning or ending) so I can notify
the winner tomorrow morning.
And I’ll look forward to hearing the names of some old favorite books along with some new TBRs!
After winning Romantic Times' "Best Special Edition of the Year" over Nora Roberts, Laurie Schnebly Campbell discovered she loved teaching every bit as much as writing…if not more. Since then she's taught online and live workshops for writers from London and Los Angeles to New Zealand and New York, and keeps a special section of her bookshelves for people who've developed that particular novel in her classes. With 43 titles there so far, she's always hoping for more.
