Writers in the Storm

Laurie Schnebly Campbell

What does braiding a book mean?

Off the top of my head, that seems like an easy question. Since a braid has three parts, a braided book has -- hmm.

Goal / motivation / conflict.

A hero / heroine / villain.

Emotions / actions / thoughts.

Description / dialogue / narrative.

A culture / place / time.

Future / past / present.

Protagonist / sidekick / antagonist.

Character / plot / and...

...and whatever seems like the best choice for that blank space.

So which is the correct answer to "what does a braid include?"

 

All of those! Even if your book doesn’t contain each one of the trios listed above, you’re probably including a few of 'em.

Which Is Most Important?

That depends on what you're writing. Sometimes when readers aren't yet familiar with the world you're building, it's crucial to provide all the colorful details about the ship or the jungle or the village in Bulgaria.

Other times, the setting isn't a big deal because readers are so intensely focused on the characters. Why won't the heroine consider moving? When is the hero going to change his mind, and how, and why? What'll happen if that fire burns out of control?

Sometimes there are several braids in the story, but -- for one or more of them -- the three parts aren’t equally sized.

A book that includes a heroine, hero and villain might devote very little attention to the villain because the romance between the couple is so wonderfully captivating.

Or a book that includes narrative along with description and dialogue might emphasize the dialogue above all else because that's the part readers like best.

That’s perfectly all right. It’s only a problem when...

The Braid Starts Unraveling.

You’ve seen that happen, right? Like when a secondary character winds up taking over the whole book. Or maybe where we finally reach the climactic scene, where the heroine is about to share her dramatic secret, and then we pause for an entire page describing the scent of her corsage.

Maybe the villain does something which adds an interesting conflict but which is completely out of character, with no explanation ever given. Or maybe the story meanders from one random event to another, with never any reason for us to care about any of ‘em.

What Does That Mean?

There’s no balance to the braids in this book.

Which leads to the question of HOW to blend all three parts of any trio you use.

Some lucky writers do that without even thinking about it. They have an instinctive gift for placing just the right amount of emphasis on past-present-future, on goal-motivation-conflict, and on any other braids in their book.

Some writers have to work at it, but they’ve found various tools for keeping their stories balanced. They’ve developed tricks for lining up the strands, shifting and using the Rule of Five so that each aspect of the trio stays in the right perspective.

Each way of writing is successful, because in both cases the writer knows what three strands are the most important for the book in question.

And speaking of questions, here’s one for you:

 

Plus A Prize

Question: when you start work on your story, what three elements strike you as the most important?

You might rely on one of the trios mentioned at the beginning, or a blend of any three other elements. Whatever works for you is absolutely the right way to go, but a lot of us go in very different ways.

What’s yours? What three elements make up your braid?

If at least 20 people answer, somebody will win free registration to my class on Your Plot-Character-Story Braid...which begins September 5 at WriterUniv.com. And if it turns out the winner is you but you’ve already registered, I’ll just send you a refund!

Laurie, pretty sure the winner gets announced on Monday morning so I’ll be eager to see who that is.

 

Laurie Schnebly Campbell always loves analyzing what makes a book work, so she's looking forward to starting a four-week class on "Your Plot-Character-Story Braid" on September 5 at WriterUniv.com. 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 17 novels on her bookshelf with acknowledgments from authors inspired by her classes.

 

Why a writing retreat will change your life

By Kimberly Brock

So, life.

Every time I start to get stupid and think I’m going to just do this writing of a novel thing in one long, smooth line, there’s life. It keeps happening to me. This is a fine example of magical thinking on my part, that I expect that writing a story is going to circumvent experiencing my own. Oh, yeah. You never think like that, right? Tell me another one.

It doesn’t matter if it’s good life or screwy life, either. It’s just all the stuff going on. It keeps going on, doesn’t it? It is going on, on top of my head, y’all. But here’s the thing I sometimes forget to mention – I like it that way! I get bored easily and I need to be working my guts out on about three hundred things at once. One of them happens to be writing. So, I have developed some tricks. Like headphones. Or coffee. Or organizing book festivals. Or teaching workshops. (I rather like these. They’re called Tinderbox workshops because that’s how I imagine the creative hearts of women, sitting on their inner hearths, holding all the secret wisdom they to need to strike a spark!)

I create all these paths in my life that keep me busy like a bee, but ultimately, they lead me back to one place – storytelling. Because we all know that the truth about storytelling is that even when we think we aren’t doing it, we’re totally doing it. We’re doing it in our sleep! We’re doing it over our kitchen stoves and sinks. We do it while we cheer at baseball tournaments. We’re doing it while we haul our old dogs to the vet. We’re doing it while we host birthday parties (dear, sweet Jesus) or take our parents to their doctor’s appointments. We’re doing it while we hold down desk jobs or coordinate school plays or sing in church choirs. We are creatures who understand and predict and reflect and treasure our entire existence through story.

And if you believe that, then why don’t we all have about eighteen completed great American novels on our shelves, eh? Eh?

Well, because storytelling isn’t actually, for real, like, exactly, writing. (boo, hiss!) I know. I have failed you. I have betrayed you. You can no longer even look me in the eye.

Here’s what I mean. Storytelling is the soul of us. Writing is the work of us. And this is why people who identify as WRITERS live such frustrated lives. Because writing requires time and focus and effort and grit and well, more of all of that which life interupts. Performing as a writer means starting and finishing an actual, tangible project. On the other hand, STORYTELLERS are happy people, fulfilled and creative and just chugging along on the juice of the muse warbling lovely words in their heads. Some days, I really just embrace that

STORYTELLERS identity and say to hell with the WRITER’s plight. Who cares if anybody ever reads another stupid word I write. I’m busy riding down imaginary rainbow roads in my hippie chick VW bookmobile van and writing can bite me.

The trouble is, if you’re a STORYTELLER whose stories are meaningful to you (This is true. I’m warning you.), whether you’re telling your stories in verse or lyrics or scenes or chapters, ultimately you’re doomed to be a WRITER. You may rip your clothes and shave your head and wail in denial, but they are two sides of the same coin. And so, you have to respect this truth and embrace it and meditate and maybe go to an open mic night and read bad poetry about it from where you’ve drunkenly scribbled your own heart’s philosophy in Sharpie on the inside of your wrist. It is your fate.

OR, you can go to the beach!

Yes! Your eyes are not deceiving you! It’s a real thing, this fabulous idea of taking off like a badass Thelma or Louise without the death thing at the end! Long ago, a really wise STORYTELLER woke up hungover from a long night’s poetry open mic and discovered the smeared Sharpie philosophy on the inside of her wrist and here’s what it said. One word. A holy inscription. RETREAT.

If you want to pull a fast one on your STORYTELLER self, take her someplace where she believes she is on vacation from life and expectation. Where she thinks she has outsmarted all the experiences and the happening that’s going on. She’ll take a deep breath and wonder why she doesn’t do that more often, the breathing. She’ll sip coffee and wine and reflect on brilliant daydreams and visions that seem to come out of nowhere and maybe consider getting on Ancestry.com to confirm her serious suspicion that she’s actually descended from a native American shaman princess. She’ll laugh and cry and share stories and maybe even secrets she thought she’d long forgotten. If it’s a women’s retreat and it’s a really good one, she might even decide she likes her thighs. I am not lying. It’s freaking brilliant! She’ll moon around about half the time and then this phenomenon takes place that, I swear, does not even involve magical elves…things get done. Actual, tangible words on screens and paper and shit.

Now, it doesn’t matter if it’s just a day or if it’s a week. It doesn’t matter if it’s an hour or three. It really, honestly (I hate to say this), doesn’t matter if it’s your back yard or better, your neighbor’s back yard. You pick the place. Except not Starbucks or your car in the grocery store parking lot, because that’s not retreat. That’s being a real writer and we’ll get to that another time. You can go to the mountains or the desert or a Holiday Inn off Route 66 anywhere between here and there. Nobody cares. It’s about leaving the where-you-are and going to the where-you-go and letting it happen. Retreat.

Me, I prefer the beach. I prefer a place where I can’t see anything else happening but water going out and coming in and doing God knows what in between. The ebb and flow of it sloshes around in my head and my words sift through and float to the top when I’m at the ocean. So, that’s where I’m headed in September and I’ve got room for you there. You can find all the details here and join me. I’m making apple pie and peach cobbler and a surprise dinner for you. I’m inviting some other beloved authors, Kristy Woodson Harvey and Ann Garvin, to teach us and share with us and laugh with us. I’m going on walks on the beach and drinking my coffee on the deck and giving my inner STORYTELLER everything her heart desires. Because when I do, she’ll stop fighting against life so hard. She’ll stop creating work for herself to avoid the guilt of investing in her own voice above someone else’s. She’ll relax a little and realize she’s not losing herself if she kicks back for a rest. And maybe you won’t believe me, but I’m telling you, in that very instant she gives herself permission to invest her time and energy and creativity into preserving her stories, the miracle happens. The WRITER appears to get to her work.

Because do you know what you get when you spell retreat backwards? Sanction.
That’s a fancy word for permission to go to the beach.

Do you struggle to balance life and the work of writing? Do you allow yourself the experience of a retreat in whatever form it might take for you as a writer? How do you move between Storyteller and Writer? Most importantly, do you love your thighs or do you allow them to stifle your creative freedom?

About Kimberly

Kimberly Brock is the award winning author of the #1 Amazon bestseller, THE RIVER WITCH (Bell Bridge Books, 2012). A former actor and special needs educator, Kimberly is the recipient of the Georgia Author of the Year 2013 Award. A literary work reminiscent of celebrated southern author Carson McCullers, THE RIVER WITCH has been chosen by two national book clubs.

Kimberly’s writing has appeared in anthologies, blogs and magazines, including Writer Unboxed and Psychology Today. Kimberly served as the Blog Network Coordinator for She Reads, a national online book club from 2012 to 2014, actively spearheading several women’s literacy efforts. She lectures and leads workshops on the inherent power in telling our stories and is founder of Tinderbox Writer’s Workshop. She is also owner of Kimberly Brock Pilates.

She lives in the foothills of north Atlanta with her husband and three children, where she is at work on her next novel. Visit her website at kimberlybrockbooks.com for more information and to find her blog.

Kate Moretti

We writers spend a lot of time online. Facebook, twitter, forums, groups, message boards, I could go on. We debate. We talk about craft and commas and grammar and agents and publishers and eventually someone will bring up genre and everyone will silently groan because the only conversation that rivals genre is “Plotting vs. Pantsing”. Then someone will say “Why do we need genre? Why can’t we just write fiction? Why are there all these rules to my ART?” and he will adjust his monocle and twirl his cane,… oh wait, no….

And then there’s this other guy who inevitably jumps in and declares that his work is much too lit-rah-rary and even though his book has dragons AND spaceships, NO PUBLISHER WILL PUT HIM IN A BOX, DAGNABBIT.

The thing is, I sort of, kind of, totally get it. It’s constricting to say, well if you’re writing suspense you can’t spend ten pages on the description of a kitchen cabinet and all it’s contents, you just can’t (never do this anyway). It seems silly, all these little arbitrary rules that have no bearing on what we are writing, on the worlds we itch to create.

Here’s the thing, though. These rules don’t exist because of the writing. They exist because of the READING. Ultimately, we want our work to be read, not just written. To be read, it must be sold. To be sold, it must be readable to readers, NOT WRITERS.

We’re creating a product for someone.

I’ll give you a minute. I know this feels uncomfortable.

It’s so commercial! You say.

Yes. I’m sorry.

Genre is your friend, I promise. It’s here to help you. Let me explain.

1. Genre gives your story a framework. The very thing you loathe can be the thing that saves you (if you let it). Don’t know how to end the book? If it’s a romance, don’t even think about not getting the couple together. Make sure the hero accomplishes most of their goal. Make sure there is justice for the antagonist. In a fantasy, the world must be saved or at least saved for now (sequels sure to follow). You want to break the norms? That’s fine, but be smart and creative. Find a way to break the mold, while still maintaining reader satisfaction. Have the couple break up, but hint at a sequel. Leave the heart pounding for the next book. Make the genre work for you. You will stand out like a sunflower in a wheat field.
2. Genre gives you a built in audience. Whether we like it or not, readers come with preferences. Many people (non-writers) read only one kind of book. I know this because my grandmother would ONLY read Danielle Steele or Fern Michaels and, as a teenager, I would steal them. This feels foreign to writers, who are told almost daily to “read widely”. If you write high fantasy, you can market your work to “fans of Tolkien” and even George R.R. Martin. Is there anything hotter than GOT right now? You can hashtag your tweets, Instas, Facebook posts and use these popular phenomenons to your advantage.
3. Genre is less constricting than you think. Most people who lament genre do it because they revere the written word. They love a long winding sentence, bordering on the purple side. They enjoy a wide and colorful vocabulary and don’t want to keep their sentences short and sweet, even though their MC is being chased down a dark alley by a serial killer alien. I’m here to tell you that’s ok. I like a good sentence. I enjoy psychological depth, a clever use of language and some unique vocabulary. I also think I write suspense. The skill is in knowing how, and when, to use it. To use language to bolster a mood, or deepen a character, not to describe a fight scene or a chase sequence.
4. Genre sells a book. This is the biggest reason to embrace genre. It goes back to that thing you hate. We are creating a product for someone else. The sooner you accept this, the sooner you’ll find commercial “success” (whatever this means to you, but that’s a post for another day). Agents and editors pursue books of a certain genre ALL. THE. TIME. No exceptions. Is literary a genre? I think so (dodges tomatoes). They have a list that has x number of fantasy books, x number of women’s fiction, y number of domestic suspense. Domestic suspense is hot right now, they’ll float it out there: I want a DS pitch, stat. If you’re book is a wishy-washy middle ground, a romantic-urban fantasy-women’s fiction-horror-suspense hybrid, your manuscript will not get pitched. It’s that simple. Your agent (provided you get that far) will send in the sure thing because MONEY.

This is what your agent WANTS to do. Ahem, LET THEM.

So, tell me what you think. Do you agree? Does genre help or hurt the industry?

 

Kate Moretti is the New York Times Bestselling author of the women’s fiction novel, Thought I Knew You. Her second novel Binds That Tie  was released in March 2014. She lives in Pennsylvania with her husband, two kids, and a dog. She’s worked in the pharmaceutical industry for ten years as a scientist, and has been an avid fiction reader her entire life. Her latest book, The Vanishing Year is available for pre-order and will be out September 27.

She enjoys traveling and cooking, although with two kids, a day job, and writing, she doesn’t get to do those things as much as she’d like. Her lifelong dream is to buy an old house with a secret passageway.

Www.facebook.com/katemorettiwriter
Www.twitter.com/katemoretti1