Writers in the Storm

Congratulations to Ella Quinn, the winner of Debbie Herbert's contest last week. Ella, you can contact Debbie via her website. You're lucky to be one of the first to read her debut book, Siren’s Secret!

And the winner of Chuck Sambuchino's contest is Judi Moreo. We'll let Chuck know the snail mail address on your website. Let us know whether you'd like a free copy of either the brand new 2014 GUIDE TO LITERARY AGENTS or 2014 CHILDREN’S WRITER’S & ILLUSTRATOR’S MARKET. Congratulations!

Writers in the Storm welcomes back James Preston, author of the Surf City Mysteries to share how he uses screenplay structure.

by James Preston

Today we're going to talk about a big fish with a very bad attitude.  But first . . .

When I was working on Read 'Em and Weep,  the second installment of the Surf City Mysteries, I had a wonderful experience. Two of my characters came to life and started talking to me.  Katerina Kohl and Heather Rubinski are two Las Vegas showgirls who wanted desperately to tell me about their lives.  It was great.  I loved it.  And they tried to kill my book.  To explain why, I need to talk about the seven-part screenplay structure, the skeleton that underlies most commercial fiction.

Fair warning, this is going to be full of spoilers.

If you have not seen the classic Stephen Spielberg film Jaws, I am going to take it apart as an example.  So, if you care about how the story goes and don't want to know, be warned that I am going to give it away.  All of it.

Fair warning #2: Once I studied this and internalized it, I started to see it in much of the fiction I read.  Sort of like seeing the man behind the screen, so if you think that might spoil your reading, save yourself; it's too late for yours truly.  However, I found that looking for the bones under the skin enhanced my appreciation for the craftsmanship of the writer.

Still with me?  Okay enough with the warnings.

Remember, a story is about somebody who wants something.  Something stops them from getting it.  They try to get it and either succeed or fail.

A Plot Point is something that changes the story, turns it into something unexpected, usually by changing the heroine's goals.

Since I am talking about adapting this structure to novel writing, I will use page numbers to show locations in the manuscript.  Assume a 200-page manuscript.  We'll see how it works as minutes.

Let's talk about the bones, the skeleton that is one way of building your story.

1.  Hook.  Something interesting happens that grabs the reader's attention.  This is the very beginning of the story and it is important!
2. Twist. The story goes off in a different direction.  It's not what you thought it would be.  This can come anytime before . . .
3. Plot Point One.  About 20% in.  For our mythical 200-page books, this is around page 40.
4. Midpoint. A watershed moment.  You guessed it.  Page 100 .
5. Plot Point Two. Everything the heroine did is wrong.  Page 160.
6. Climax. The heroine solves the problem, or doesn't.  This is less precise.  Say around page 180.
7. Denouement.  Loose ends are tied up.  Everybody who wasn't killed and eaten goes home.

So let's see how this works in real life.  Hear the music?  Da dum.  Da dum.  Da dum.  Are you ready to go back in the water?

Hook.

Chrissie and her boyfriend are partying their brains out on the beach with a group of college kids. She talks him into going skinny-dipping.  (Personal note:  He's reluctant.   Is he insane?  Did you see what Chrissie looks like?  I would have been in the water ahead of her, drunk or not!). Anyway, he passes out on the beach and she meets Bruce the Shark.  Bruce has a much better time than Chrissie.

Twist. 

Crissie's remains are found,  but no one believes it's a shark.

Plot Point One. 

Expect this to be about 20% in, and it is.  At 17 minutes in, Alex Kintner, a young boy on an inflatable raft, is killed.  Now we and everybody in Amity know it is a shark.

Midpoint.

At 58 minutes in, Ben Gardner's boat and body are discovered by Brady and Hooper, but the Mayor still insists on keeping the beaches open, and this leads directly to the attack in the pond and the hiring of the irascible Quint.  The police chief, the marine biologist, and Quint go out on the Orca to hunt the shark.  The stakes get much, much higher -- it's a fight now.

Plot Point Two.

94 minutes in, Quint, never the most stable of individuals, smashes the radio.  Now they can't get help.  Now it's fight to the death.

Climax.

"I ain't got no spit."  In a last ditch effort, Hooper goes down in the shark cage.  (We'll have to leave a serious discussion of foreshadowing for another day, but for a good example, think back to Hooper loading the equipment on the Orca, when Quint mocks the cage, hinting that the shark could get through it.)  Bruce the Shark bites right through the cage, probably thinking, "Oooh, crunchy on the outside." Hooper gets away, maybe, and Sheriff Brody has to face his fear of water as Quint is killed and the Orca sinks.  He shoots the shark.

Denouement.

Brody and Hooper are paddling back to the island on a piece of wreckage.  Brody says, "I never used to like the water.  I can't imagine why."

So, will this structure work for your novel?  You bet!  To adapt it, keep in mind that you have more flexibility than a scriptwriter.  In Black Sunday, Thomas Harris puts his second plot point forty pages early.  His villain, the psychotic blimp pilot, comes down with viral pneumonia.  It works because it's a big book with a lot going on.

On the other hand, in the awesome One for the Money, Janet Evanovich puts her midpoint right at the middle. (Morelli throws Stephanie's car keys in a dumpster.  When she is rummaging through garbage to find them, she finds a newspaper article saying John Kuszack has been gunned down.  This expands the story because Stephanie now knows that witnesses are being killed.)

More things to remember when you are adapting this technique to the printed page.  You need to alternate between tension and relaxation.  Each incident needs to be more intense than the one before.  When the heroine wins it has to be by her own efforts, deus ex machina is handy but a trifle dated.

Oh, yeah, I almost forgot.  Throw out all of these rules for a literary novel.  They don't apply.  And if you're a one-of-a-kind genius like Janet Evanovich you can use them or not.  For the rest of us, a skeleton is useful.

You may be thinking, how can I possibly remember all this and keep it straight when I'm figuring out the next scene?  Don't worry.  Some folks map out their entire novel beforehand, others don't.  For me, these guidelines come into play at the second draft stage.  I like to start up the bulldozer and move some earth before I fine tune the result.  (I borrowed the bulldozer metaphor from Stephen King.  Thank you.)

So, how did Katerina and Heather try to kill my novel when they were telling me about their lives?  They told me all about their lives.  I know about Heather's abusive father, and how Trina went to a community college, studied accounting and hated it.  This background was fascinating, helped me get to know them, and they wanted to tell me about it, but it just didn't fit.  No matter where I put it, it altered the structure of the book and failed to move the story forward.  So I didn't use it.  My hope is that your characters come to life and speak to you, and that later, you will select what you need and file away what you don't.  Just listen that first time around.

There are many variations on the structure I have described.  If you feel like sharing I would like to hear some of them, and examples from your current work.  Thanks, and I'll see you next time.

James R. Preston writes the Surf City Mysteries, the most recent of which is Pennies For Her Eyes.  He has signed at Men of Mystery, where he appeared on the same bill as New York times bestselling, awesome writer James Rollins.  (That sound in the background is Preston’s own horn tooting.)  Check out www.jamesrpreston.com for more information.  And if your book club wants a live one, send an email.

Don't forget that Thursday at 6p.m. PDT we'll pick the lucky winner of a free class from commenters on Laurie Schnebly Campbell's post from last Friday, The Tricky Part. The winner's name will be announced in two days, on Friday. Good luck to all.

“The Tricky Part” of writing is different for every author, but hardly anyone is good at both dialogue & description. Laurie Schnebly Campbell talks about the skills required for each, and how to discover where your strengths lie.

And, did we mention that there is a prize for a lucky commenter? That contest closes Thursday evening at 6 p.m. (PDT) and we'll announce the winner this Friday. Read on!

 by Laurie Schnebly Campbell

We all tend to be better at one of the Double D's -- dynamic description, or delicious dialogue. But if you ask a bunch of bestselling authors which they're better at, they can't always tell you...because they've worked on both to the point where now each comes easily.

Most of us aren't at that point yet, though. We've all had the experience of re-reading a page we just wrote and thinking "aaack, I SUCK at [dialogue or description]."

Sounds uncomfortably familiar, right?

STRENGTH & WEAKNESS

I personally suck at description, and whenever readers asked what my characters looked like I'd tell 'em, "like the picture on the cover."

But for some reason, drat it, that didn't quite seem to satisfy 'em. You want to know what my characters FEEL like, or what they do or think or say, no problem...but what they LOOK like? Or worse yet, what their house / dog / clothes look like? Shoot, I dunno!

Yet other writers have that same problem with dialogue. "I have no idea what these people would say." "All my characters talk the same way." "I wish I could do the kind of snappy dialogue you see with (fill in author)." "Why can't I just SHOW what happens instead of having them TALK about it?"

On the positive side, when we're bad at one of those jobs, we tend to be a lot better at the other one. No idea why, but most writers I've talked to about the Double D's feel like they have a much easier time with either description or dialogue.

If you're not sure where your strength lies, read these excerpts by two enormously popular authors and keep an eye out for what skills catch your attention:

BY JANE AUSTEN

 

"A single man of large fortune; four or five thousand a year. What a fine thing for our girls!"

"How so? How can it affect them?"

"My dear Mr. Bennet," replied his wife, "how can you be so tiresome! You must know that I am thinking of his marrying one of them."

"Is that his design in settling here?"

"Design! Nonsense, how can you talk so! But it is very likely that he may fall in love with one of them, and therefore you must visit him as soon as he comes."

Mr. Bennet was so odd a mixture of quick parts, sarcastic humour, reserve, and caprice, that the experience of three-and-twenty years had been insufficient to make his wife understand his character. Her mind was less difficult to develop. She was a woman of mean understanding, little information, and uncertain temper. When she was discontented, she fancied herself nervous. The business of her life was to get her daughters married; its solace was visiting and news.

BY J.K. ROWLING

 "You could just leave me here," Harry put in hopefully (he'd be able to watch what he wanted on television for a change and maybe even have a go on Dudley's computer).

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" she snarled.

"I won't blow up the house," said Harry, but they weren't listening.

"I suppose we could take him to the zoo," said Aunt Petunia slowly, "...and leave him in the car...."

"That car's new, he's not sitting in it alone...."

It was a very sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance and then, because the smiling lady in the van had asked Harry what he wanted before they could hurry him away, they bought him a cheap lemon ice pop. It wasn't bad, either, Harry thought, licking it as they watched a gorilla scratching its head who looked remarkably like Dudley, except that it wasn't blond.

NOTICE YOUR RESPONSE

No need to list which elements from those excerpts jump out at you -- but notice how you reacted to each example of description and each example of dialogue.

Chances are that whatever had you reacting from the standpoint of a professional ("hmm, I wonder how the author did that" or "hmm, I would've handled this differently") rather than the standpoint of a consumer ("sounds intriguing" or "mneh, yawn") is likely to be the one you're better at.

Of course, you might not even such a test-question to know which you're better at...most writers can usually say pretty quickly whether their greater strength is in dialogue or description.

THE GOOD NEWS

No matter which you're better at, either way you have a built-in advantage. Because the same strength you've already developed in doing what you're good at -- whether it's  dialogue or  description -- will ALSO help you with what you're not so good at YET.

Why?

Because they both require the same basic tools.

That's what next month's Double D's class is about, and free registration to that four-week workshop will be a prize for somebody who answers this next question:

PRIZE-DRAWING QUESTION

Which comes more easily for YOU, description or dialogue? And do you have any favorite tips for dialogue or description that I can pass along to the class? (If you'd rather I didn't quote what you say, just mention that in your post -- thanks!)

Laurie, who can't wait to hear the answers.

Laurie Schnebly Campbell gets a kick out of teaching writers about handy techniques -- plotting, synopses, motivation, fatal flaws -- and finding new areas to explore, like next month's yahoogroups class on The Double D's: Dynamic Description & Delicious Dialogue.

A reminder about last week's contest, courtesy of Chuck Sambuchino: On Wednesday we'll announce the winning commenter from Chuck's "launch" last Wednesday. If you haven't commented yet, you've got until 6:00pm. (PDT) tomorrow.

Today Writers in the Storm welcomes back guest blogger Susan Spann, as she continues her PubLaw series about your literary estate. If you've missed her previous instructive posts in this series, click on the title:  How to Choose a Literary Executor, and  Do You Need a Literary Executor?

by Susan Spann

So far, our look at authors’ estate planning needs has focused on the “how” – how to create an author’s estate plan, how to decide if you need a special trustee (or executor) to manage your literary works, and (if so) how to pick the best person to fill that role.

Today, we diverge from the “how-to” path to talk a little about the duties a literary executor actually performs. We’ve discussed this in general terms before, but people unfamiliar with probate and trust administration often don’t know exactly what’s involved in the process. In fact, many of my clients express surprise at just how much is involved with administering an estate or trust – I have one trustee client who’s been managing an estate for almost a decade.

In light of that, it seemed like a good idea to give authors a view into the other side of the estate planning world—a look at what the literary trustee or executor actually does.

Over the next two months, we’ll take a look at those duties. Starting now:

THE AUTHOR’S ESTATE

After an author’s passing, the author’s creative works automatically become part of the author’s estate, which is a fancy lawyer word that means “the assets a deceased person owned at the time of death.” The estate includes all real property, personal property, intellectual property and other assets. The estate doesn’t include any property or assets held in joint tenancy because those become the property of the surviving joint owner(s) at the time of one owner’s death.

No special actions are required to place a person’s assets into the estate at the time of death – by law, they pass automatically into the estate.

However, special actions are required to collect the assets on the estate’s behalf, because the people and institutions holding onto the assets might not know about the death or that the assets are part of an estate.

WILLS AND PROBATE COURT APPROVAL

When the author has only a will, and not a trust, the estate usually has to go through probate, which is a specialized legal proceeding in which a court supervises collection and distribution of the estate and all of the assets. The person the court appoints to handle this job on the estate’s behalf is called the executor (or sometimes the personal representative).

The executor of a will has no power to act until the court issues an order granting that authority, so if you opt for a will instead of a trust, your executors (which includes your literary executor) will need to go to court to get authority before they can take the other steps we discuss below.

(One exception: if your estate’s value is low enough, some states allow the executor to act without going to court, but that’s fairly rare.)

THE ADVANTAGE OF TRUSTS: NO PROBATE

When the author has a trust, and the author’s assets are properly placed in the trust (either directly or by means of a “pour-over will”), probate is not required. The trustee – or, if appropriate, the literary trustee – can proceed directly to managing the Estate.

TRUSTEE AND EXECUTOR DUTIES

Once the probate court grants permission, in the case of an executor, or once any statutory post-death “waiting periods” end, in the case of a trustee (check with a lawyer to see if such a period exists in your state), the literary executor and/or trustee can begin the process of administering the author’s literary estate.

To simplify matters, we’ll look only at functions of a literary executor – the general executor will have additional duties (again, consult an attorney to find out more).

Here’s a list of the duties the literary executor or trustee will need to perform, in roughly the proper order:

1. Identification and “collection” of literary assets.

This means tracking down all of the author’s creative works (published and unpublished) and identifying them as part of the estate. Unpublished works are usually fairly easy to locate and collect: they’re on the author’s computer, in filing cabinets, or among the author’s personal effects. “Collection” of published works involves sending a notice (and usually a copy of the author’s death certificate and documentation establishing the trustee’s authority to act on the estate’s behalf) to publishers and/or literary agents.

Estate Planning Tip: create a list of your literary works and other intellectual property, with the location, publisher, and any passwords or other information necessary to access the relevant work.

2. Management during early estate administration.

In most cases, the author’s assets can’t be distributed right away. A probate court will need to approve the author’s will, and even a trust requires asset collection, an accounting, and a distribution plan before the trustee can start handing out the copyrights.

In addition to reviewing the author’s estate plan to see which heirs receive which specific assets, the literary executor or trustee will need to manage the works until distribution is authorized.

For published works, this means reviewing all contracts, taking any required actions triggered by the author’s death, and collecting royalties (into a special trust or escrow account) if appropriate. For unpublished works, this usually means holding the works in a secure location until the time of distribution – unless the author’s estate plan specifies otherwise.

Sometimes, contracts have termination clauses or other events that trigger on the author’s death. In those situations, the literary executor or trustee may have to interface with heirs and negotiate renewals or extensions of rights. Administration can be a complex task – and a literary attorney is often a helpful person to have on your side to assist you.

What follows “early administration” can be a little more complex, so we’ll put the rest of the duties off ‘til October. We’ll pick up the topic again next month, when we’ll look at long-term estate administration, distribution to beneficiaries and heirs, and resolution of estate-based conflicts.

Hopefully, today’s post gives you some idea of what a literary executor or trustee has to do on your behalf—and lets you know what to expect in case anyone ever asks you to serve in that capacity.

Have questions? Please feel free to ask in the comment section – I’d love to hear from you!

Susan Spann is a publishing attorney and author from Sacramento, California. Her debut mystery novel, CLAWS OF THE CAT (Thomas Dunne Books, July 2013), is the first in a series featuring ninja detective Hiro Hattori.

Susan blogs about writing, publishing law and seahorses at her website. Find her on Twitter @SusanSpann or on Facebook.