Scott Wilbanks

You know you must be desperate when you find yourself Googling random word combinations in the hope that a book title will magically make itself known to you.

To be honest, after a week  and an endless series of, “that’s good, but no thanks”, responses from my publishing house, I was grasping at straws.  As half of my novel is set in the year 1895, the only thing I knew for certain was that I wanted the title to evoke a turn-of-the-century vibe.  To that end, I included the term Victorian in each word combination.  And let me tell you what, there were a lot of those.  Eventually, I stumbled across an online dictionary for Victorian slang, and, with nothing better to do, decided to putter around inside.

That’s when I stumbled across the term lemoncholy, and knew that I’d landed on something special.  According to the dictionary, it was a synonym for melancholy.  Unfortunately, that didn’t gel with my novel’s themes, but a delicious possibility began to percolate around in my head.

What if I coopted the term, combining melancholy with the phrase if life gives you lemons . . . to then mean the habitual state in which one make the best of a bad situation?  That would describe my protagonist, Annabelle Aster, to the tee.

What didn’t register, at the time, was the irony.

Our minds are indescribably complex engines, and mine had chosen to have a last laugh.

You see, nearly nine years ago, I’d done just that—made the best of a bad situation—though I didn’t realize it at the time.  All I knew was that I’d written down a couple sentences in a bleak moment.

In polite company, she was known as Annabelle Aster.  Being a spirited woman, however, she wasn’t often found in such company, as she’d determined it to be, more often than not, insincere.  And also being a sincere woman in every particular, Annie chose her company for the quality of its character, not its rank.

We’d just wrapped up the closing arguments in a three-week-long trial, one that had begun three years earlier when a multi-billion dollar company decided not to pay the commission I’d earned on what was, at the time, the largest transaction in my industry’s history.  Basically, they’d toyed with me for several months, stating that they’d make it their goal to “destroy your company” if I decided to seek recourse through the legal system.  It didn’t matter to them that I’d worked on the transaction for over a year, and, as a result, would be bankrupt if not paid.

So I sued.  It was me and my best friend—a man with a lot of smarts, but no knowledge of my industry—against the resources of a multibillion dollar company and a client who’s wife’s interest income exceeded forty million dollars a year.

Will it surprise you that I was experiencing panic attacks throughout the trial, then, some of which were so bad the lead arbitrator asked if I needed medical assistance?

It must have been a real treat for the opposing parties, not that I cared.  The greatest weapon you possess in a legal battle is an opponent’s absolute readiness to underestimate you.

I’d barely closed the door to my hotel room after the trial’s conclusion, though, when I experienced the mother of them all.  I’m pretty certain that, to an outsider, this particular attack would look have looked a seizure.

Somehow, I’d managed to crawl into the shower—I honestly don’t remember doing it—and sat in the basin with water pouring over me and my clothes.  And while doing so, the strangest thing happened. Those sentences that I shared earlier popped into my head.

They were inspired by a series of letters I’d written to, and received from, a failed date many years before, letters in which I had Annabelle Aster write to her friend, one Elsbeth Grundy, asking for advice regarding her lovestruck friend—me.  I’d emailed the letter to my date, and, well, let’s just say that I got a second date.  And a third.  And, by the fourth, we were an “item.”

Back to the scene in the bathroom, though. Don’t ask me why, but I got out of the shower, changed into a robe, and wandered to a desk where I wrote the words down on a piece of loose leaf paper, before shoving it into my briefcase.

The next day, I found myself back home in San Francisco, too afraid to go to work.  Merely thinking about it put me on the verge of a melt down.  So I cleaned house instead, eventually stumbling across those few sentences.

Intrigued, I sat down, tapping a pen against my kitchen counter.  I wrote an additional sentence.  Then another.

Two months later, I’d written four-hundred-fifty pages of the worst first draft in history.  More importantly, in all that time, I didn’t once set foot in my office.

And the day after I wrote the words THE END, I began the bureaucratic process of shuttering my company.  I’d no heart for it.

But I’d caught the writing bug, having discovered that putting words to paper was the best therapy for what had subsequently been diagnosed as a chronic anxiety disorder.

Time passed—eight years, to be exact—and those sentences I wrote, and those that I added to them, and those that I reworked tirelessly, had turned into a book named The Lemoncholy Life Of Annie Aster, which has just launched.

I don’t think you can even imagine how satisfying that feels. But I’m, only now, seeing the irony of it all.  I’d created my own, personal state of lemoncholy.  I’d made the most of a bad situation.

And then some.

What happened with the trial, you ask?

I won.

And while the years between the trial and my books’ publication saw their fair share of tragedy—that date, turned boyfriend, turned best friend, had died—it also saw me moving to New Zealand after meeting the man I’d ultimately marry.

All we need to make it perfect is a cat.

So, Do you have any stories for us about where you got an idea for a book? 

Scott Wilbanks

Scott is an American expat living in New Zealand with his frustratingly perfect husband. A former national title holder in the sport of gymnastics whose left arm is an inch shorter than his right—the result of a career-ending accident—Scott ditched the corporate world to “see where this writing will take me.” He is the author of THE LEMONCHOLY LIFE OF ANNIE ASTER, a commercial fiction novel with a fantasy premise releasing August 1, 2015 through Sourcebooks that tells the story of two pen pals who are fighting against the clock to solve the mystery behind the hiccup in time connecting their homes before one of them is convicted of a murder that is yet to happen… and yet somehow already did.

For those of you who couldn't attend, every year I share the best, the "golden," writing tips and industry advice from the workshops I attend at the Romance Writers of America conference.

Joan Johnston:

• To ramp up tension, skip some of the Twelve Levels of Intimacy. (Not familiar with the twelve levels of intimacy? Read Jenny Hansen's post here.)
• Precise word choice enhances physical description and conveys "hidden" meanings, like "sharp"nose, hard jawline, ice blue eyes to show a hero may be dangerous or a naked overhead bulb in a bedroom setting.
• Show the physiological response of characters

Sherry Thomas:

• Subtext: When you notice something really interesting below the surface. 
• Subtext drives conflict and character arc.
• Good subtext is invisible.
• When you give crucial information about the character up front you give readers a Rosetta Stone to your characters.
• Use symbols throughout your book. Example: He fell in love with her when she was wearing a red scarf. He's apart from her, but when he sees a flash of red, he looks, hoping it's her.

"Mistakes we Made" Group Panel:

• The stronger your market brand, the more books you will sell.
• Make your bio personable.
• "Ad stacking" sells books. ("Ad stacking" is small ads "stacked" during the same week.)
• Publish and distribute directly where you can.
• Join Kindle Boards before you publish.

Julie Cupp and Christy Reese, on self-publishing:

• Right now, before you publish, establish an online presence and start building your e-mail list.
• Get a professional head shot. (On my To Do list!)
• Hire a professional editor who is comfortable with your genre.
• Hire a professional cover designer.
• Have a proofreader read the book at the end of the editing process.

Jennifer Crusie on Metaphor and Motif:

• Two of the most effective tools for subtext are metaphor and motif.
• Motif is any element (word, symbol, sound) that is repeated at least three important times in your book.
• Motif can be a line of dialogue that is repeated at least three times in your book, especially good if it changes meaning during the story.
• A metaphor is a figure of speech that uses a concrete image for an abstract idea.
• Never make their meanings explicit! 

Kristan Higgins on Secondary Plots:

• Secondary plots layer your book and make it interesting.
• They help with saggy middles. (You can read Fae's blog about fixing a saggy middle here.)
• Secondary characters get away with things your main characters can't do.
• They demonstrate attributes and flaws of your protagonist in a hands-on, palpable way.
• Make your secondary characters and plots just as multi-faceted as your main characters and plot.
• Don't shove in a character because he'll get his own book later.

Madeline Hunter on Taking Your Writing to the Next Level:

• Raise the stakes to improve your story.
• Cut 10-15% of your word count when you edit.
• Your dialogue should matter and create plot points.
• You must engage in the emotional content of the story.

Michael Hauge on Identity to Essence:

• Any good story is a before and after picture.
• Conflict must elicit emotion in the reader.
• More than half of the obstacles for your character need to come in the last half of your novel. They should come closer and closer together.
• To create empathy with your hero, make her the victim of some underserved misfortune.
• Good story-telling is about manipulation. There is a problem if the reader sees the "strings."
• Our identities are who we believe we are. If you strip away the identity, you have the essence, the potential of what the character can become if she has the courage.
• Your characters can not achieve the outer goal unless they move out of identity and into their essence.

Laura Drake on submitting your book: You know, Fae, you can't sell a book if you don't send it when someone asks for it.  Okay, Laura, I sent the first book off yesterday morning. Book Two will be sent by the end of the week. By the way, I love your cheerleader outfit!

Some of the workshops were two hours and contained much wonderful, useful information. If you want more information about any of the "lines" above, let me know in the comments and I'll add some brief clarifications.

Willing to add your Golden Lines from RWA 2015 or a conference you recently attended? Share the wealth in a comment. And don't forget, we all have our own golden lines of writing wisdom. We'd love to see yours.

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.

Punished, oh-no, that’s published as a co-author of a math textbook, she yearns to hear personal stories about finding love from those who read her books, rather than the horrors of calculus lessons gone wrong.  She is grateful for good friends who remind her to do the practical things in life like grocery shop, show up at the airport for a flight and pay bills.

A “hard” scientist who avoided writing classes like the plague, she now shares her brain with characters who demand their stories be told.  Amazing, gifted critique partners keep her on the straight and narrow. Feedback from readers keeps her fingers on the keyboard.

When she’s not hanging out at Writers in the Storm, you can visit Fae at http://faerowen.com  or www.facebook.com/fae.rowen.

Marcy Kennedy

 

If I took a survey asking writers what the most important elements of fiction were, I’d probably end up with a few consistent answers—plot, characters, dialogue, showing rather than telling.

We might not automatically think of including internal dialogue on the list, but we should.

Internal dialogue is the heartbeat of fiction. It serves practical purposes, like helping us control our pacing, but it serves deeper, more subtle roles as well. Without enough internal dialogue or without strong internal dialogue, our fiction can end up confusing and emotionless. We have people randomly acting, like we’re watching a TV show without any sound.

Unfortunately, too much internal dialogue or poor internal dialogue can make our fiction feel immature, slow, or claustrophobic.

So to help you develop the right kind of internal dialogue, I wanted to share a few of my favorite ways to make sure my internal dialogue is enhancing my story rather than detracting from it.

Technique #1 – Alternate between paragraphs focused on the POV character and paragraphs focused elsewhere.

This topic could be a whole post in itself, but basically paragraphs in fiction should focus on one of two different areas. Either you have a paragraph focusing away from your point-of-view character and onto dialogue spoken by others, action in the environment around them, or description. Or you have a paragraph focusing on the point-of-view character. A paragraph focusing on your point-of-view character includes your POV character acting, thinking (a.k.a. internal dialogue), feeling, or speaking.

We should try to alternate evenly between the two. Alternating evenly makes sure that we keep the reader grounded in the external environment, while also keeping them emotionally connected to the character. The added bonus is that if you’re working on alternating, you’ll be less likely to create the “floating head” syndrome where your POV character thinks to themselves for paragraphs (or pages!) at a time and puts your reader to sleep.

Technique #2 – Use thoughts that sound like dialogue.

All the techniques that we can use for making dialogue sound more natural—like sentence fragments, dropped words, and contractions—should also be used in internal dialogue. A quick way to check for this is to imagine quotation marks around your internalization. If your character said this out loud, would it sound natural or would it sound strange and awkward? (For the really personal items, imagine they’re speaking to their therapist.)

If you’re not sure, speak them aloud yourself. You can change the tense to first person from third person if you need to. If it sounds fine in first person, it’s also fine the way you’ve written it in third person.

Technique #3 – Make sure you’re using your character’s voice and not your own.

This is true no matter what narrative distance you’re using (i.e., omniscient, distant third person, or deep POV). Internal dialogue is your point-of-view character thinking to themselves, so it needs to sound as much like them as their spoken dialogue. What words would your character (rather than you) use in this situation?

I’ll give you an example. If someone cut me off in traffic and nearly caused an accident, I’d call them an idiot. My husband would call them a douchebag. If your character wouldn’t use a word like prudent (maybe they’d say wise instead) then you shouldn’t make them think prudent, even if that’s how you want to say it.

Whatever your character’s personality, it should come through in their internalization just as much—or more—than it does in their spoken dialogue and actions.

Technique #4 – Save direct internal dialogue for the most important thoughts.

Direct internal dialogue is dialogue that’s written in first person, present tense. I’ll show you an example to make sure it’s clear what I mean.

Emily pasted a smile on her face. I still hate you. I’ll never stop hating you. “Long time no see. How have you been?”

Because direct internal dialogue is in first person, present tense—even when we’re writing in a third person, past tense story—we need to italicize it. But the italics draw a lot of attention to it.

Most internal dialogue can be written as indirect internal dialogue (where we stay in the same person and tense as the story). I’ll give you another quick example so you can see the difference.

Emily pasted a smile on her face. She still hated him. She’d never stop hating him. “Long time no see. How have you been?”

That’s indirect internal dialogue, and staying in the same tense helps it flow naturally with what’s around it.

Emphasizing a thought through direct internal dialogue should be done sparingly, when we really need to draw attention to an important thought. It’s like exclamation marks. They lose their oomph if you pepper your pages with them.

Technique #5 – Make sure you don’t repeat the same thing in internal dialogue that you’re also showing through spoken dialogue or action.

You might occasionally hear someone complain about internal dialogue—there’s too much of it or it isn’t advancing the story. What they’re usually complaining about is actually repetitious internal dialogue. Repetitious internal dialogue makes for boring, flabby reading.

So, for example, if we use internal dialogue to show a character thinking about how she wants to cry or how she wants to slap the person who stole her job, and then we show her crying or show her slapping, our internal dialogue and action overlap.

What we want to do instead is to use one or the other (not both) or to add some variety to either the internal dialogue or action. Continuing with our example above, perhaps our character wants to cry, but she’s been told her whole life that crying is weak. We could have her express her deep sadness externally in a different way, like running until her body collapses.

Or we could add variety by showing that the way our character imagined something happening is very different from the way it actually happens. Perhaps, in her internal dialogue, she thinks about how good it will feel to slap him, but when she does, both her hand and her heart end up hurting.

It might seem obvious, but we also shouldn’t double up on what’s said in internal dialogue and in spoken dialogue. You’d be surprised how often I see something like this…

Who did he think she was, Houdini? She didn’t know how to pick a lock. “I don’t know how to pick a lock.”

The fix for this involves us deciding where that dialogue actually needs to be—inside or outside.

What do you struggle with most when it comes to internal dialogue?

 

ANNOUNCEMENT: On Saturday, August 15, I’ll be teaching a one-hour webinar where I give even more tips on crafting awesome internal dialogue. You can sign up by clicking here. If you can’t make it at the time it’s scheduled but still want to attend, sign up anyway. The webinar will be recorded and sent to registrants. Or you can grab a copy of my bestselling book Internal Dialogue: A Busy Writer’s Guide (available in both print and ebook).

 

 

ABOUT MARCY

Marcy Kennedy is a science fiction, fantasy, and suspense author, freelance fiction editor, and writing instructor who believes there’s always hope. Sometimes you just have to dig a little harder to find it. She’s the author of the bestselling Busy Writer’s Guides series, which focuses on giving authors deep teaching while still respecting their time. You can find her blogging about writing and about the place where real life meets science fiction, fantasy, and myth on her website. To subscribe to her free newsletter, go to http://eepurl.com/Bk2Or. New subscribers receive a copy of her mini-book Strong Female Characters as a thank-you gift!