Picture your novel-writing process like a recipe. Yeah, I know the analogy is far from perfect and I often make metaphors around food, but I often write these when I'm hungry so bear with me.
Anyway, like all recipes, you're going to have a list of ingredients, and some of those will be more important than the other. Garnish? Well, that comes at the end and is a nice touch but isn't really necessary: these are your cosmetics like interesting chapter headings. Then things like spices and herbs are your technical and creative flourishes. Again, not strictly necessary but if the taste of your targeted audience call for it then it can mean the difference between lukewarm appreciation and rave praise. And so on. So many things are interchangeable and flexible, but if there are two big main things that every single recipe needs, it's equipment to cook with and someone to do the cooking. These are, respectively, your plot and characters, the things that make your story come together, drive it forward and make it happen in the first place. They are your - wait for it - meat and potatoes of fiction writing. Thank me later. So today we'll look at characters. In fact this is the beginning of a mini-series of character posts. So before we get into the nitty gritty of building well-rounded, flawed and believable characters to fill our fictional landscape with, we need to get into a mindset, the most important rule with regards to characters moving around your plot: Do not be afraid to hurt your characters. It may seem silly, but as a writer you will have to build these characters from scratch. You will flesh them out to incredible lengths and depths, know things about them that the reader will never know (and need to know), let them dance in your head in the day and haunt your dreams when you sleep. They will be your constant companions for the duration of your novel's gestation, whether you will be writing about them or not. And you, as a decent human being, will grow attached to them. It's natural: we get to know something, and as it becomes a part of our life, we feel a certain affinity with whatever that is. Think back to the last big spring clean up you did: remember that one thing you completely forgot existed, has played no part in your life for years and will never do so again, but you just can't bring yourself to toss it out? Exactly. Now imagine just how protective you will be of these new friends that you - you! - created on your own! I've seen it happen: when writing, this protection over one's characters translates into shielding them from all kinds of mishap and conflict that may otherwise befall them. Their protagonist is happy and content, all is well...and your reader slams your book in the midst of a yawn. Conflict is so, so key to your story that the two may as well be synonymous. Think back again to when we talked about the stasis and trigger: this is what we're talking about, when something wrong (or right but with consequences) for your character that pushes them out of the comfort zone and confront that adverse force now pressing on them. If your character is facing no conflict, then why would your reader care what is happening? Conflict, adversity and stress upon your characters is what keeps your reader turning the page. Make no mistake; your reader is no masochist! No, this stems from the fact that, if you've done it right, your reader will sympathize or empathize enough with your character that, when it all crumbles around them, the reader will want to see things through with your poor character: they want to see your character backed into a corner so they can see how they get out of it. If your protagonist has nothing to worry about, then the reader has no reason to stick around with them. So don't be afraid to hurt your characters. Putting the screws on your own creations can be as painful for you as it is for them at first. But you have to put that emotional distance between yourself and your characters: your precious story depends upon their strife. So not only do you have to avoid shielding them, you have to actively push them towards conflict, hurl them through their gauntlet of trials and tribulations until they emerge the other end, battered, bruised, and all the better for it.
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I'm not the first person to give writing advice, and I'm certainly not going to be the last. As I said at the very beginning, opinions and tips on how to write fine fiction are a penny a dozen, especially with the age of the Internet. It means that they are all within easy reach too. And a lot of that advice (including mine) will seem rather negatively driven: don't do this, avoid that, do less of this. If you draw upon multiple voices of critique at once, that can be so much to take on board at once that you put yourself in danger of descending into paranoia, paralyzing your writing altogether for fear of doing wrong. And I really, really don't want that to happen! First, a word on why so much critique focuses around the 'don't' instead of the do: it's very rare that fiction writing advice is sought out before the novel is written: rather, it is pulled upon midway when the plot and pace are running out of steam, or at the very end when the novel needs chiseling into shape. And usually, a lot of first novels don't suffer from a lack of things, but rather having too much: flowery prose, long and drawn out pace-killing conversations, subplots that twist away into irrelevance. So a lot of the advice out revolves around the editing process, which by nature means a lot of trimming. Between my first and second draft of Tick, the novel shed around 8,000 words, taking an entire subplot and a couple of characters with it. Only in exceptional circumstances will your novel grow as a result of editing. And that's why so much of the advice out there may seem negative: cutting and pounding things into shape unfortunately uses a lot of negative language. You shouldn't feel bad about this: every single story out there is the result of rewrites, redos and overflowing wastepaper baskets. But all of this shouldn't matter to you a single jot to you when you create your first draft. One of my favorite quotes comes from Ernest Hemingway, master of restrained prose, who says "write drunk, edit sober." Whether he means that literally is up you, but what I think he means is that when first setting out on that initial journey of fleshing out your first novel, the critical voices (both external and internal) should be silent. Oh sure, one should subconsciously be aware of proceedings to ensure your plot doesn't completely go off the rails, but your creative juices should be in full flood. Your first draft should be messy, bristling with raw power, fearless, and utterly unpublishable. And when your first draft is complete, then you can let the critical voices back in to help you start knocking it into shape. Sure, you can lightly edit as you go, and your first draft may look better for it, but the amount you tweak and critique your work on the fly is directly proportional to a less creatively inspired novel. The talented few who can write a first draft that is in an almost-publishable state are exactly that: a few. Don’t try to emulate them. I speak from experience that if you keep switching to editor mode after every paragraph or chapter, you risk losing that honeycomb of energy, that indefinable vitality your novel would otherwise have, even after all the edits. There are few experiences out there that rival the beginning of writing a new novel (one of them is ending it), and the sheer excitement that overflows from you onto the page is not only a good thing, but it should be protected. So when you first set out on your brave first draft, hush those judges. Their time will come. For now, it is time to be creative. So the funny thing is, I just got married last week. I also had a day when I got some professional photos done, filled out some paperwork, planned a small trip for the long weekend...lots of planning, basically, coming to fruition to something pleasurable and, hopefully, simple.
At it's heart, that's what planning is, right? The more planning you put in, the easier the execution yes? Well, one of the outcomes from planning good fiction is better and clearer reading. Well, better reading is totally up for interpretation of course, but clearer! Ah, now there's a word that is, by definition, unambiguous! Make no mistake: as authors it is our job to tell a story, and anything standing between you and the reader that hinders that should be removed. And that includes our own tendencies as writers to indulge ourselves (ie. purple prose) or, for all the best intentions, simply try too hard. I'm gonna set you off on a little quiz now. Right now, off of the top of your head, how many different words do you know for 'said'? Give yourself a minute, then keep reading. So, how did you get on? Ten? Twenty? What words did you come up with? Off the top of my own head, I can think of: replied, spoke, sneered, quoth, cried, screamed, retorted, snapped...you get the picture. Now, in some circumstances, using these kind of words in place of 'said' is just fine: they're like a spicy version of 'said'. But just like spices, if you use them too frequently you're going to clutter what your reader is attempting to savour. Either that or your reader wil watch in fascination as you attempt word-jenga with yourself, watching characters crying, quothing, declaring and responding all over the place, wondering when it's all going to come all crashing down. And this is all because there is a fear among new novelists of that word 'said'. And it is a fear that your readers do not share or care about. Oh, you may think that the word 'said' is bland and boring, but that's the point: the simple fact of the matter is that the word said - and perhaps 'asked' and 'replied' - are perfect for your reader because it is so bland and boring. It is a transparent marker that points out, as unobtrusively as possible, who is speaking. As I said, sometimes using those spicy versions of said (known as 'said bookisms' in the business) are are fine and can in fact add a dash of exciting flavour to your dialogue. I know that some editors out there despise said bookisms but I as a reader do like a good sneer or growl now and then. But they must be used sparingly, otherwise it, like purple prose, will draw the attention away from the dialogue itself onto these markers which sould be as clear and unhindering to the reader as possible. Worried that you're not being exciting enough? Don't be; if you're doing your job as an author well, the story itself should be the excitement, not these technical points. If you rely on said bookisms it just looks like you're trying to cover up a weightless story. |
Off the ShelfHere I share my ideas, musings and advice on the writing process. I also analyse some of my own writing for examples to show how I work. ShowcaseHere I will show off of some of my favorite good and great stories, gushing lovingly over why I adore them and why you should too. I will also show you the other side of the spectrum: bad examples of stories and what we can learn from them.
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