Writers in the Storm

Laurie Schnebly Campbell

We all want interesting characters. People who fascinate us. People who make readers feel intrigued. People who do more than sit in the garden and gaze at the grass. And we've all read books where, even if the characters aren't spending every minute gazing at the grass, they aren't doing much else to make the story exciting, either.

A brand new writer faced with such a scenario might decide, "Hey, I know what'll make this story exciting: a kidnaper jumps out of the rosebushes!"

Or "he gets bitten by a snake carrying some rare disease!"

Or "she falls in love with the gardener who's already married!"

Those could certainly start a story moving, all right.

But do you see what's missing?

If this character is the type of person who -- even when confronted by the danger of kidnappers or the trauma of a rare disease or the hopelessness of impossible love -- doesn't do anything to change their situation, the reader's going to get bored.

Picture this poor snake-bitten hero. His eyes are swelling shut; his skin is burning with fever; and after three days in bed staring at the ceiling fan...

...he's now feeling better. So he goes out to sit in the garden and gaze at the grass.

Or picture a heroine falling in love with the married gardener. She wishes he'd leave his wife, but she doesn't do anything to make that happen. She just plucks petals off the daisies and imagines now nice it would be if he loved her.

The story isn't GOING anywhere, right?

That's because it's missing something. Not just action, but the most important ingredient:

The character's driving force.

Our main characters need to be driven by something. Not simply an external mission like "escape the kidnaper" or "avoid the snake" or "murder the gardener's wife," although those are all perfectly understandable goals.

For that matter, so are goals like "win an Olympic gold medal" or "discover a cure for cancer" or "find where the stagecoach robbers hid the loot."

But those aren't enough. What's going to keep us interested the entire time a character is working to win that medal or find that cure or thwart those robbers?

What makes THIS character different from someone else who's ALSO driven by the desire for Olympic victory or medical discovery or recovered treasure?

Something vital -- their motivation.

Motivation is the heart of GMC.

You've heard about the magical trio of goal-motivation-conflict, right? Debra Dixon is the first writer I know of who used that phrase to describe the essential elements of a story. And the fact that motivation's in the center shows how vital it is.

Let's look at some character (say, named Chris) who wants to win the Olympic gold medal in swimming. What's driving Chris?

Maybe it's the desire to feel superior. Or to achieve fame. Or to honor a beloved coach.

Regardless of motivation, this character's ACTIONS aren't going to change. Chris is going to be training, practicing, working and straining and striving to be the very best swimmer at the Olympic Games no matter what caused the desire for a medal.

But each one of those motivations will make Chris a different person.

For instance, think about someone who wants to feel superior. Think about someone who wants celebrity. Think about someone who wants to reward a mentor.

Three different people, right?

Which one are you writing about?

That's crucial to know.

Or is it someone else you're writing about? For instance, how would good old Chris be different if driven by some OTHER reason for wanting the gold medal?

Suppose it's a quest for atonement. Or money. Or love.

Again, those three would be very different people, reacting to the same setbacks and triumphs in very different ways...depending on what drives them.

Motivation is not only a driving force, it also makes the character consistent.

The actions and beliefs and decisions of someone with a strong motivation will make sense to the reader -- even if there are times when fellow characters don't realize what's driving Chris way deep down. And that's okay. Chris might not (yet) realize it either.

That's because characters, just like the rest of us, don't necessarily know motivates them.

After all, they might be so busy working to win the Olympic swimming medal or cure cancer or find the stagecoach-robbery loot that they don't even stop to think about why they're doing this.

Which is fine.

They don't need to, right up front. 

But the author does.

Because as the plot unfolds and the character makes decisions, readers who wonder why they're driven to do X instead of Y or to value A instead of B are gonna need an answer. THAT's what keeps the story intriguing and believable, both at the same time.

If you've ever found yourself reading a story and thinking "That doesn't seem like something this person would do," you've come across a character whose motivation isn't well-defined.

The author never figured it out.

And we've all seen books where that's painfully obvious. Books where people act in whatever way the plot demands, even though it seems out of character.

For a plausible character, there's gotta be a driving-force motivation.

Do you know what it is?

By the way, that's a prize-drawing question. If at least 20 people post "a character in this book I'm reading or writing now or a few years ago is/was motivated by ____," one'll win free registration to my four-week Plotting Via Motivation class at WriterUniv.com in March.

So if you've got some character in mind, either one of your own or one in a book you've read, think about what lies behind this person's goal. What motivates them? You don't need to identify the book title / author unless you want to, but DO identify the character's driving force.

And we'll wind up with a fabulous collection of motivations!

~ Laurie
(who can't wait to see what those might be)

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About Laurie

Laurie Schnebly Campbell combines her advertising agency work with a background in counseling as well as writing fiction for Harlequin Special Edition -- where she won RT's Best Of The Year over Nora Roberts -- and non-fiction, like her book on using enneagrams to create characters.

She began teaching classes online every month at WriterUniv.com, and in person around the English-speaking world, after seeing a bumper sticker that changed her life: "Those who can, do. Those who believe others can ALSO do, teach."

 

 

Photo credits: www.FreeStockPhotos.biz

Sonja Yoerg

Lost in Space. Remember that TV show? No? Sigh. It aired in the 60s and featured a family in Jiffy-Pop space suits roaming the galaxy in an attempt to return to Earth. I mention it because, as fun as that show was, you don't want your characters lost in space. In fact, you want to pin them to a specific spot on the map, put them in a headlock and give them a noogie while you’ve got them there.

Settings aren’t just hang-outs for your characters. Let’s talk about ways to put your fictional places through their paces.

1. Relax your reader.

First and most obvious, readers will relax once they know where they are and what sort of a world to expect. Nail down the location with few accurate strokes and you’re one step closer to being able to lead your reader by the nose. (And that’s what you want, after all: dominion over readers!)

Unless the mystery of the setting is part of the story, it’s best to bang the stake in the ground right away. These words appear in the first paragraph of my latest novel, Middle of Somewhere: "Yosemite, wilderness, backpacking, adventure." Yeah, I’m subtle like that.

2. Use your setting for character arc.

Okay, so your readers know where they are, and when that changes, you let them know. Great. But there’s more your setting can do for you. It can reveal character. In her memoir, Wild, Cheryl Strayed staggers under an overstuffed backpack—a symbol of how she has no clue what she does and does not need in her life, and testimony to how little she comprehends about the journey she is undertaking.

My main character, Liz, is also embarking on a long backpacking trip. Liz, however, is an engineer. NASA packed the space shuttle with less precision than Liz applied to her gear choices. We only have to glance at Cheryl and Liz’s packs to know a lot about them.

Once Liz sets off, what’s in her backpack is all she’s got, not counting her boyfriend, Dante, who decides to tag along. Liz and Dante have to meet their challenges (i.e. the crap I sling at them) with a very limited inventory. The area is remote and without cell service. They can’t even phone a friend. And although the wilderness is vast, they have to stay on the trail, and they have to keep going. This setting has more constraints than a dance party in a phone booth.

And that’s a good thing. The more you restrict your setting, the more you force your characters to use their brains, or their brawn, or their connections, or whatever it is they have going for them. Or, conversely, the physical environment can expose character weaknesses, and goodness knows we all love the sight of human underbelly. Force your characters into tight spots, both psychological and physical. If you don’t, they will drown in a sea of possibilities. It’ll be harder for you to choose what they should do next, and harder for the reader to see the inevitability of your ultimate choice.

As I repeatedly put Liz and Dante through the ringer, they dug into their backpacks for solutions.  They made a slingshot, and put a handful of tent stakes and a length of twine to good use. The tent stakes also become part of the plot, and are ripe with symbolism. And the tent itself was a major constraint. When Liz and Dante fought, they had no place to go; “sleeping on the couch” would have meant freezing to death on a slab of granite.

3. Tug the reader's heartstrings.

Sticky situations also develop sympathy. Nobody likes being cornered or trapped. Remember in Gone Girl when Amy ends up in that grungy cabin in the Ozarks and the lowlifes take her money? She thought she had everything under control but once she was isolated and outside of her usual world, she caves and runs to her ex-boyfriend’s mansion. And is imprisoned. I felt sorry for her! That conniving little monster stole my sympathy, and all because Flynn stuck her somewhere she couldn’t handle—despite her smarts—then put her under the thumb of someone nearly as messed up as she was.

Or what about The Martian? The entire plot revolved around getting one poor slob off a planet where he didn’t even have air he could breathe. Weir showed us a man uniquely vulnerable, extraordinarily ingenious, and determined to survive. No wonder I was glued to the page and, despite having read the book, I was on the edge of my seat during the movie, too. (Plus, you know, Matt Damon.)

Consider your setting as more than scenery. Investigate ways the physical environment can limit your characters’ options, contribute to the plot, and reveal to readers the truth about who your characters are. We are all shaped by our environments, limited by our circumstances and, at times, blocked by something as tangible as a snowstorm, a broken lock, a lost wallet, or a mountain. They don’t call it the real world for nothing.

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What book or movie makes you think of setting before anything else? Can you think of examples where the setting made the story for you? Care to share a snippet where YOU used setting well?

About Sonja

 

Sonja Yoerg grew up in Stowe, Vermont, where she financed her college education by waitressing at the Trapp Family Lodge. She earned her Ph.D. in Biological Psychology from the University of California at Berkeley and published a nonfiction book about animal intelligence, Clever as a Fox (Bloomsbury USA, 2001).

Her novels, House Broken (January 2015) and Middle of Somewhere (September 2015) are published by Penguin/NAL. Sonja lives with her husband in the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia.

 

 

Lost In Space Photo credit: Lost in Space "Warning Will Robinson" via photopin (license)

Kate Moretti

I’m going to be honest. I’ve never had real writer’s block. Until recently, I really believed it was an excuse. I thought you could just write through it. I wrote THOUGHT I KNEW YOU and I swear I was high on sugar the whole time. It was the most fun I’ve had writing in my entire life. Nothing mattered, I could literally do anything I wanted because who on earth was ever going to read it besides my mom, and not like she likes anything I do anyway (oh, jeez, KIDDING).

So, why is it getting harder with each book instead of easier? Maybe it’s because I know what I’m doing (more, not entirely). Maybe it’s because I have further to fall. Maybe it’s because the fear is huge.

I’ve read all the articles: write through it. Read. Sit down, butt in chair and write.

But I went through a four or five month slump where the words just did not come. Where I would sit and write four hundred words only to erase them an hour later. I couldn’t figure out the plot. I couldn’t find my characters. I read an article that said I was maybe writing the wrong book, not the book of my heart, and I had to breathe into a paper bag for five minutes because what if the book of my heart wasn’t the book I sold?

I was a cliché. I sold a book on pitch and now I couldn’t write it. Seriously, I adore Wonder Boys. I had no desire to live it.

But hooo boy, I was in a slump.

Then my reading started to crash and burn. Every book I picked up lost my interest. My mind would wander, I’d get irritated at the characters, the writing, the setting, once, even a pet. This was not me. This was more than a slump, this was writerly depression.

I also realized, it’s so common. For a long time, I thought I was alone. I wasn’t. I’m not. We’re in this together.

Why do we slump? 

Nothing about the creative arts is an assembly line. You can’t phone it in when you have to get words on the page.  As of 2015, there are 1,025,109 words in the English language. If you’re staring at a blank page, that’s a helluva multiple choice question.

There are two components to a crippling slump: External forces, life, health, busy, self-criticism, and then story components: characters, plot, setting.

I had both. My life was crazy. I forgot how to say no to all kinds of people. I’d pared down my work hours and decided that meant I could take on all the things. Yes! Let’s do lunch. Yes! I can do the class party. Yes! I will work in the lunchroom at my daughter’s school. Yes! I will perform 40 hours of work in a 24-hour work week. Yes!

In addition to that, I had a deeply flawed outline that I was ignoring and pretending it would all work out fine. I had mismatched motivations. I had characters who were not compelling or likeable.

Things needed to change. Here’s how I wriggled out of my slump:

1. Reset goals.

Much of my writerly depression was steeped in failure. I’d commit to 1000 words a day, only to fall short and then the next day think “why bother”. I did a reboot: I committed to 10 minutes every day.

This was a retraining of my mind the way a couch potato trains for a 5K: One minute at a time. Half the time, I’d sit down for ten minutes only to realize I’d been working for a half hour. I fixed the outline. I tackled the plot issues. I focused on the characters and let them come to life for me. I stopped thinking about the contract (it is currently TBD if this part was a good idea).

2. Write something crazy.

Ok, so my outline looked good but gads, 85K is a LOT OF BOOK, PEOPLE. I found myself with seemingly endless pages between plot points. When I would start to get that creative-killing white mind panic thing, I’d write something that I didn’t plan on. I’d focus on a character and just write. I’d try to connect it to the scene I’d previously worked on if I could but it wasn’t necessary. Anything to get that blank page filled with junk.

I ended up actually using most of it and I found if I really meditated on the character, the story came naturally. Sometimes, I think if you outline, you can feel like you have no options when you’re stuck. But sometimes a detour is just the ticket: maybe there’s a secondary story happening that you didn’t plan out. Maybe there’s an underlying (genius!) theme you hadn’t thought of. Unearth it in the most creative way possible.

3. Never look back.

Forever Forward is my drafting motto. I cannot, will not, go backwards to fix ANYTHING. If I go back, I get stuck in an editing loop before I’m done drafting. Then I find mistakes. I find wonky characterization. I find awkward phrasing. I’ll spend my drafting hours fixing these things. These are editing fixes, when I have the clay of the story lumped out on my desk. I cannot get mired in that nonsense.

4. Keep a side journal.

In Scrivener, I use a separate document that I store in my research section. It’s a story journal. I write what needs to be edited, ideas on new scenes, random thoughts about characterization. I write anything that flies into my head in that journal. Sometimes I’ll think of a great line but know it doesn’t go in the scene I’m writing. It goes in that journal. This is an easy way to never look back. I repeat. Do not. Look. Back.

5. Read the RIGHT books.

This was key. I was trying to read a lot of books in my slump. They were women’s fiction, or literary fiction, or humor, or sci-fi. I read a wide range of things in my regular not-writing life. When I’m drafting, I’ve learned that all these voices in my head drown out my own. I’m too susceptible, too sensitive to other people’s stories. I picked 5 books that are my genre, beautifully written and inspire me – sometimes from picking a random page, I can be off and running. They’re all re-reads.

From a “life” perspective I made two changes that really altered my frame of mind:

6. I started exercising.

I wear a fit bit. I move my body. I go for walks. I am not thin. I am chubby and I don’t much like to move around. I have two sedentary jobs. As I get older, I find my joints creaking and my mind foggy and at two o’clock I want a nap. You know what else exercise fixes? Mild depression. You know what depression does? Kills creativity.

When I started moving, I started being able to think.  I was interested in books again. I would walk and think about my story and then the kinks started unknotting themselves. I talked into my phone recorder like it was a person. It’s ok. I’d say things like “What if Henry actually killed his wife’s best friend? Oooh I like that.” Yes, I probably looked crazy. That’s fine. If we cared what people thought about us, we wouldn’t be in this biz.

7. I set limits.

I started saying no. I finally, finally, learned how to say things like “I only volunteer on Fridays” or “I write on Mondays”. I got my act together and organized my work life and said, “I don’t work on these days.” I stopped saying “Oh, I can’t” which left people room to talk me into things and started saying “I don’t”.

Make self-policies and by God, stick to them. For me, one of the biggest challenges to managing my writing is how to manage my time. I’m now in the – albeit wonderful – boat of having to market as well as write. I have phone calls with editors and publicists and marketing reps. I have to call book stores and reply to emails (this is currently still a failure). I have to find something to post once a day on my Facebook and make sure I retweet all my supporters and writers in my tribe. I have to read books and talk about them. I have to blurb books.

These are all NEW WONDERFUL THINGS. It’s so hard to say no. To not say, “I can’t do that”, but “no thank you, I won’t do that”. To set self-policies “I will not blurb books that are off genre”. Or “I’m sorry, I don’t work between the hours of three and seven. Can I call you tomorrow?” For a people pleaser like me, and so many other women, these are hard self-talks.

An overcrowded brain is not creative. It’s tired. Preserving your energy is imperative.

It’s kind of trendy or cool now to be so busy. Everyone is so busy.  It’s so tempting to give in to that and let the busy-ness invade the business. But, as authors, our #1 job is the writing. The writing is the thing.

I have two mottos now: “Forever forward” and “The writing is the thing.” I say them to myself daily. They’re pinned to my corkboard.

 

Have you had a slump? Writer’s block?
How did you get yourself out of it?

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About Kate

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.

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.

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