Writers in the Storm

James Preston

Tips for doing Bad Things to Your Characters.

As I write this I am watching an old episode of CSI. Ray Langston, (Laurence Fishburn) is testifying in the trial of a psychotic who stabbed him. It is an excruciating series of scenes, definitely not for the faint of heart.

As a child when my mother took me to the movies I would watch out for bad things happening to characters I liked. I used to whisper, "Is the music bad, mommy?" (Side note: I do not remember this but she told the story frequently.)

As writers, we need to be brave, for we must first create characters we like, and then send them into situations where the music is very bad indeed, and watch as they struggle, as they grapple with issues that are life- or love- threatening and as they succeed or fail because that stress is what makes a story work. It is the engine that drives the writing bulldozer that Steven King talks about.

But I am a softie. With few exceptions, I like the characters I write about — they are my friends — and I don’t like to see them hurt. (Side note number two: I used to be reluctant to talk about this aspect of my writing, the fact that for me the characters are real. Then I read the essay by Thomas Harris at the beginning of Red Dragon in which he describes how he did a lot of the writing in an old farmhouse miles from a town. And he thought Hannibal Lecter might very well be watching him. Can you imagine?)

So, given that if I were in high school I’d take Pollyanna to the prom instead of one of the Heathers, how do I put my characters through very difficult situations? It ain't easy. In my most recent novella, Buzzkill, my heroine is kidnapped and handcuffed to a chair with a black cloth bag over her head. One of her captors fondles her breast. This is the first scene of this sort that I have ever written. It was not part of the early drafts of the novella. It made me uncomfortable to write, and it's uncomfortable to talk about now. But I did it. Here’s how I handled it, which leads to

Tip Number One:  Write the Horror Separately

I actually came up with that scene during the second draft, and it bothered me. So I wrote it “sidestream,” not as part of the manuscript. The scene where she’s handcuffed and molested as well as the resolution at the end where the creepy guy gets his (heh heh) existed first as separate documents. This allowed me to do two things. First, I could look at those events separately and decide if I wanted this dark piece as a part of my story’s mosaic. Second, if I decided that I didn't want it, there was no cutting involved; the scenes were not part of the manuscript; there were no transitions to undo. (Raise your hands if you have a hard time cutting. I do.)

Tip Number Two:  Make the Horror Mean Something

Let horrific events force your characters to grow. “That which does not kill us makes us stronger.” Did Nietzsche know what he was talking about? Maybe. Let’s get back to Ray Langston on CSI. The writers put him through hell. Did he grow and learn? It would be a spoiler for me to answer that, but I will say he should have. In The Count of Monte Cristo, Dantes goes through hell, lives for revenge, and at the end he actually learns and grows as a person.

Tip Number Three:  Make Sure the Bad Things are an Organic Part of the Story

Always remember your readers are smart and they watch for plot devices. When the music gets bad, they know. For example, one reviewer talking about the first cycle of Spider Man movies, complained, "Peter Parker and his girlfriend break up just so they can get back together.” A long time ago, in a galaxy far away, when Han Solo took the money and ran, it worked, sort of. Today, it would not. Do not include bad stuff just to make it seem real.” In my case, when my heroine was trapped in that warehouse I set it aside and talked to the bad guy. It became clear that he would, indeed, molest her. (Yeah, I talked to him and this is the one audience where I can say that and you, gentle reader, will nod and not call for the men in white coats.)

Tip Number Four:  Include Bad Things Even When You Don’t Want To

And now that I have said all that, remember that conflict is what drives a story. This tip is simple: you gotta have it. Just as your hero or heroine must succeed by their own efforts they must have something to succeed against.

While I’m talking about bad things happening, let me moderate this discussion a bit with a word on happy endings. As I’ve said, like ‘em. But I also think they are important for another reason. Bad things do happen to people. Rizzo in Grease feels like a defective typewriter when she misses a period, and isn’t that a great line? Marty McFly in Back to the Future cannot overcome his fear of sending out his band’s audition tape and isn’t that something all writers can relate to? Bad things reflect reality — and so do solutions and happy endings.

In high school I was forced to read a novel that mercifully I have forgotten most of. Hero and heroine fall in love but have a terrible, terrible time because of a misunderstanding. She figures it out. Ta Da! So she writes it all down in a letter and slips it under his door. Ta Da again!

It slides under the carpet in his room; he never sees the letter and their lives are ruined. Oh, well.

Is life like that? Sure, things like that happen all the time. There is a large part of reality as we experience it that is random. But that does not give us a reason for scribbling, “They all were miserable for the rest of their lives. The End.” Part of what we do is provide structure to our world, to layer meaning over the chaos.

Of course this doesn't mean that Hamlet isn’t a great story and you should only watch reruns of Happy Days. But Hamlet’s problems are driven by reasons, mistakes.

So where does that leave us? How do you handle making bad things happen to good people in your stories?

—        Try writing it outside of the main narrative, as a separate document. See if it works.

—        Make the horror mean something. My wife and I were reading one evening when suddenly she threw her book across the room. “In the last chapter there was a nuclear war and they all died.”

—        Make sure the horror is an organic part of the story. Much as I love Game of Thrones, they do throw in an extra beheading once in a while.

—        And despite all this, remember that bad things are what makes the story work. They must be in there. Hey, nobody said what we do is easy.

Finally, remember that you’re in charge. The music may be scary, but you can either fix it, or provide meaning to the pain. You can also take your revenge on bad characters, just as I do with my kidnapper. And it's fun!

Now for the quiz.

Does anybody know the letter-under-the carpet novel? I cannot remember.

How do you handle hurting your characters? I’m sure many of you have struggled with this and found solutions. Please share!

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Mark your calendars for Wednesday, April 6, our first anniversary celebration of Write Up A Storm. Get ready for a day of writing and word counts! Details on Monday.

 

Jaye Wells

When I started writing, I was a stay-at-home mom in need of a hobby. During naptimes and after bed time, I’d run to my laptop and get carried away. It was my escape hatch. Something that was just for me that also provided a creative outlet. But then something miraculous happened--I got published.

For several years, I threw myself into becoming a Real Author. I wrote and wrote and wrote. My vacations were usually spent at conventions.  All of my friends were writers. In my free time, I read to keep up with the market. My dream had come true, but there was this nagging sense that I was missing something.

I burned out in 2014. My new series wasn’t “meeting expectations.” I’d gone back to school to get my MFA in writing popular fiction so I could get more teaching gigs. I wrote a novel and two novellas in four months. I was bitter and exhausted. That’s when I realized I needed to take a step back and figure out what was missing.

As it turned out, I had to face the hard truth that I’d become a workaholic. Every facet of my life revolved around books. I love books. I love writing. I love reading. I love book people. But there’s more to life than all that. In order to figure out what was missing, I had to go back to the beginning and see where I went wrong.

Turns out, I started out right. I found a hobby that was rewarding and fun. It was when I became a pro that I got off track. See, what I figured out is that everyone needs a hobby. We each need something that doesn’t have ego or income tied to it. When my hobby became my job, I lost that safe space where I could create without fear.

The path to get myself back on track involved some experimentation. I had to figure out some activities I could do without stressing. I also had to figure out who I was beyond just being an Author because I’d gotten into the trap of adopting that identity. Also, since writing a book is such a marathon, I needed things I could do that weren’t a huge time commitment--I needed the payoff of completing a project more often.

Now, in addition to writing and grad school (which is almost done), I make time in my week for play. I go on Artist Dates as prescribed by Julia Cameron in The Artist’s Way. I cook all the time, and have recently begun what I call my “Bread Odyssey” to learn how to bake. I planted an herb garden in containers on my patio, and use them in my experimental dishes. I also recommitted myself to a yoga practice and try to meditate often. None of these activities have stakes attached to them. If I burn dinner, we can just order a pizza. If I can’t do a pose in yoga, it’s not a failure. If my mind wanders during meditation, I don’t have to worry how the bills will get paid.

In a recent yoga class, my teacher talked about the difference between having fun and enjoying yourself. Fun, she said, was an activity you do to escape your routines. However, enjoyment is the act of finding happiness in your routines and responsibilities. Therefore, another element of a good hobby is that it becomes a part of your daily or weekly habits, instead of something you use to run away from your writing (or life). This is why drinking, drugs, gambling and social media are so dangerous. They can provide fun via instant gratification, but long-run they don’t bring us joy. Better then to focus on habits and hobbies that help us be more plugged in to our lives--ones that allow us to enjoy ourselves.

The best part is that the more I allow my inner artist to play with other hobbies, the better my writing becomes. Before, I’d berate myself if I took even an evening off to watch TV. Now, I think about my stories while I chop onions or dig in the dirt, but I also allow my mind to take a mini-vacation from my imaginary worlds. I feel more present, more balanced, and calmer. But the best part is I love writing again. Funny how that worked out.

Now, I’m not saying that writing will ever be a stress-free job. I’m also not saying that you should just shirk your deadlines in pursuit of the perfect hobby. But I do think it is vital for anyone whose hobby became their career to find a replacement emotional escape hatch. Otherwise, you risk becoming so invested in the outcomes of the thing that used to bring you joy that you can end up resenting that thing--in this case writing. If you want to protect your love of writing, you need to make sure you’re not relying on it for everything--to be your hobby, your outlet, your income, your source of pride, the source of all of your friendships and activities, etc. It can’t be all those things at once. Nothing can.

So, if lately, the thing you love hasn’t been bringing you any joy, consider taking yourself on an Artist Date to the craft store. Or take a cooking class. Or maybe just get out an take a walk. Be a part of the world again, and remember that writing is something you do--not the totality of who you are. The writing life you save might be your own.

 

What is your favorite non-writing hobby?

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About Jaye:

Jaye Wells is a former magazine editor whose now writes bestselling and award-winning  supernatural novels. This summer, she will earn her MFA in Writing Popular Fiction from Seton Hill University, and is a sought-after speaker on the craft of writing. When she's not writing or teaching, she loves to travel to exotic locales, experiment in her kitchen like a mad scientist, and try things that scare her so she can write about them in her books. To learn more about Jaye and her books check out www.jayewells.com

 

 

Top photo credit: <a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/41636846@N00/20747955690">Exit From Fear</a> via <a href="http://photopin.com">photopin</a> <a href="https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/2.0/">(license)</a>

Kathryn Craft

Turning Whine Into Gold

Writing bestows faith. It’s easy to believe we might succeed when with each draft we can see our work improving. So it makes sense that we unravel a bit when we must trust that we have done enough, and it is time to query.

It is such an exciting time.

It is such a vulnerable time.

It is such an anxiety-producing time.

Because stampeding all over your dream for your novel is an army of Orcs that arose from the black slime of Factors Outside Your Control: Assessment of your talent or preparedness. Response to your hook. Perception of salability. Hidden personal tastes. Shifts in trends, shake-ups at publishing houses, bad news from Barnes & Noble, another Amazon feud.

The potential worries are legion. But it isn’t the things you can’t control that cause the black slime. It’s your reaction to them.

“Sometimes, despite our best efforts and positive thinking, health, fortune, and/or peace elude us. But the one thing we do have absolute control over is the quality of our days. Even when we’re grief stricken, racked with pain, sick from worry, deeply depressed, squeezed by circumstances—how we greet, meet, and complete each day is our choosing. We hate to hear this.”

—Sarah Ban Breathnach

We hate not knowing. But letting fear get the best of you can cause you to turn on the very people whose support you are seeking: the agents. I have heard so many aspiring writers whine about the very agents they hope will foster their careers—in public and on social media—that I can only hope karma has turned a deaf ear.

Here are five tips to help you rise above the slime when living in the query trenches.

1. Divorce your effort from the product you’re selling.

No one will ever be able to repay you for the years you spent honing your craft, whether that was in preparing one novel, writing eight novels, or getting an MFA. You chose your internship, it is now behind you, and no one owes you anything for it. With any luck you spent less than what a doctor paid for his training, and no one will pay him back either. For every decision you make from here on out you need to be facing toward your future career, not toward the past.

2. Assume your ideal agent is looking for you, too.

If you can get this notion inside your marrow you will come across as a confident partner instead of a desperado. Cast from your language words like “gatekeeper” and “rejection,” or a phrase like “I lost out on my dream agent”—they bestow way too much power on someone who doesn’t even share your vision. When you hear “not for me,” thank these people silently for stepping out of your way so you can find your work’s best advocate.

3. Accept that your submission package is all they’ll need.

You’re an avid reader—how do you make purchasing decisions? You read the back cover copy (similar to a query pitch) and if it doesn’t suit your tastes you set it down. If it intrigues, you read the first couple of paragraphs to see if you respond to the style and voice and situation. That’s it—you’re ready to either buy or put it back on the shelf. Why ask more of an agent’s reading decision than you’d invest in yours?

4. Adjust your attitude with industry knowledge and empathy.

Waiting is never easy. But you need to know that reading queries is not an agent’s full-time job. After tending to agency duties and the needs of current clients, your query and dozens more like it will be what stands between that agent and a good night’s sleep—will yours be enough to keep her up, wondering what happens next? When tempted to whine that you did not receive a personalized rejection, or that an agent doesn’t read her own slush, ask yourself if you’d volunteer to wait another few months for your query to be read.

Acquiring an agent with query #113 over the course of eight years, I am proof that the query trenches can be survived with your soul intact—but every step of the way requires extraordinary faith. And what is the easiest way for a writer to connect with her faith?

5. Write another story.

The agent who finally connects with your work is going to ask about what else you’ve written anyway, so you’d better get cracking. Writing will help you believe that the effort you expend on these adjustments of attitude is worthwhile. If you want to be an industry insider, act like one by building bridges to the professionals who can help you.

And if feedback suggests your beliefs were premature, writing will help you believe that if you go back and prepare some more, you’ll be successful.

Do you have any questions about query strategies? What was/is the most challenging aspect of your time in the query trenches? How did you make it through?

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About Kathryn

Her work as a developmental editor at Writing-Partner.com, specializing in storytelling structure and writing craft, follows a nineteen-year career as a dance critic. Long a leader in the southeastern Pennsylvania writing scene, she hosts lakeside writing retreats for women in northern New York State, leads workshops, and speaks often about writing.

Kathryn lives with her husband in Bucks County, PA.

Twitter: @kcraftwriter
FB: KathrynCraftAuthor