It’s time for something a little different here on the Showcase. After all of the love we’ve gushed in this series, coupled with all of the shoving of happiness and joy shoved in your face over the Christmas season, I think it’s time to delve into some nice, refreshing HATE. Yes, I’m going to be showing books on the Showcase that I despise as well as adore. And I’m still going to call it ‘Showcase’ because yes, I firmly believe that one learn just as much about good storytelling from bad examples as they can good examples. So let’s get started, shall we? Out first ever hate-fuelled Showcase is for Seven Deadly Wonders by Matthew Reilly. Now I want to make it clear from the get-go that I have absolutely no problem with big dumb action movies or big dumb action books. We all need to switch off now and then and just admire mindless explosions like a fireworks display. The trouble arises when, rather than treating the audience as people who are just seeking shelter after a hard day at work who just want some fun, instead treats them as idiots who are as dumb as the story itself, then that is where things instantly fall apart. And Seven Ancient Wonders positively patronizes its readers to the point of being offensive. A perfect example: the narration has the line “Very Irish, hence very catholic,” in it. But my friends, that is just the beginning. That is merely the first sin that Seven Ancient Wonders commits. Let’s talk about the plot, shall we? Think The Da Vinci Code meets Indiana Jones, written by Michael Bay after he’s had about twenty cans of Red Bull. Jack West Jr. leads an Alliance that are representatives of the small, pure countries of the world, who have never done anything wrong in history ever (so that’s New Zealand, Jamaica, Ireland, Spain and err, Israel), led by West who is from the purest and most wonderful country of all: Australia. Seriously, the constant exalting of how great Australia is and how all the ‘big’ countries like America and the UK are hateful and evil is sickening, and it doesn’t take three guesses to figure out where Reilly is from. Where was I? Oh, the plot! Well, the idea is that there is an artefact hidden within each of the Seven Ancient Wonders of the world, placed there by Alexander the Great, and the pieces must be reunited in order to stop an impending catastrophe befalling the world. Or something. Honestly, my memory on the plot is a bit vague and I’d like to keep it that way. How with that, you might think, “Okay, that sounds really dumb and convoluted, but hey, it might be a fun read, a least.” Well, that’s what I thought. Until you get to your first diagram. Yes, diagrams. To spell out for you what these booby-trapped rooms look like because hey reader, you’re clearly too thick to imagine things for yourself! See what I mean by patronising? And the writing itself is unreadably bad. It reads like a teenager's half-baked fantasy of an Indiana Jones book, only even this is unfair to teenagers and Indiana Jones, and indeed books, as this binding of pages with words inside it is far below any of them. The characters are less-than-one-dimensional, and there are too many of them. To add to the confusion, each character has at least three names: their real name, their codename, and bizarrely the nicknames a child gave them who so happens to tag along with the crew into danger. There’s are kiddy names like Sky Monster, Wizard, Big Ears and Pooh Bear. So not only does this triple the confusion with who’s who, but you get wording that is so laughably ridiculous sentences, such as: “As Stretch kept the incoming RPGs at bay, Pooh Bear fired a grappling hook at the high ceiling.” Oh, And Jack West Jr. has a bionic arm, wanna know how he got that? He lost his real arm when he plunged it through lava to press a button on the other side. Now, I’m willing to suspend my disbelief quite far, further than most people actually, but that…I’m sorry, but by no stretch of the imagination do arms or lava work like that. No, rather than characters, the emphasis being placed instead on big action scenes. This, you would think, is fair enough, but they are vacuous, bloated and riddled with adjectives and too-much-description. Reilly is a prime example of what happens if you don’t follow the rule of ‘Show don’t tell.’ To compensate, he litters his writing with capitalised sentences and italicised sentences, trying desperately to inflate a sense of tension that isn’t there. You can almost imagine him wishing he could just scribble `JUST LOOK AT HOW INTENSE THESE SCENES ARE!' on every page. But it isn’t. The ludicrous actions (such as shooting missiles out of the air), empty characters and the cynical, patronising vibe Reilly gives off in his writing and is frickin’ diagrams combines by completely switching the reader off. You just don’t care. A major character can die, and you really won't blink an eye. Altogether it reads like a collection of notes for a possible video-game, reluctantly hashed together by a frustrated man who couldn’t care less for what makes an actual book. It's so bad, I can almost recommend this book as an example of what a book shouldn't be. It's hilarious, but for all the wrong reasons, made all the worse by an author with an over-inflated ego and a total contempt for his readers. Except I don’t want to anyone to line his pockets with more than they already are. Maybe one day he’ll draw a diagram that summarizes the whole thing and share it for free. And it’ll be shaped like a toilet.
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As this year winds down and the New Year approaches, I imagine that on the minds of most of you is not just new beginnings, but also endings. No? Just me? Well if that's the case then that probably just reinforces my point further, and that point is that we humans are generally quite good at starting things but terrible at finishing them. This is especially true of entertainment. How many movies, TV series and of course books can you think of that started off with a bang but ended in a pathetic whimper, or worse still didn't end at all but just faded away as everyone lost interest? I think that's because when we're incubating a new idea for storytelling, the ending is the last thing on our minds. We have the basic crux of the idea, a cool gimmick or clever setting, or maybe even an exciting opener to build from. How many times have you started a new project based around an ending? So there’s that, and our natural aversion to endings. We don't like things to finish. That sense of finality is just so...well, final. But it really shouldn't be seen that way. Not only is the ending the second most important component in a story (after the beginning), but it is also sets the final tone for the moment the credits roll, or the back cover is reached. For that reason, the last impressions have just as much impact, if not more, than the first impression. How many of you clearly remember how Inception ended? So even though we typically fear story endings because that is the conclusion of the story, a good ending, even if it is ambiguous, can make the audience think about the story long after it is finished, and maybe even return to reread it or rewatch it so now that they have a sense of perspective on the whole thing. And yet this is probably not news to you. I doubt that this is a ground-breaking new fact to anybody hearing this. But it does make you wonder why so many stories that set the scene beautifully, and have a gripping second act that builds upon that, fall apart in the closing few chapters. And it’s a shame, really, because that retroactively spoils what was an otherwise perfectly good story up to that point, as it becomes clear that the author was merely spinning his wheels without any clear sense of destination. Now I don’t claim to have a magic formula for success (if I did you would have heard about it by now), but I do have an idea for building a strong ending. When you have the rough skeleton of your plot planned out, even your ending, be careful: just because you know how this story will end and how it will get there doesn’t automatically make it a strong ending. Your project will likely grow organically as you write it, and new ideas will come to mind as you write. By the time you come to the ending, don’t be surprised if your ending feels diminished by comparison. It’s like buying a pair of shoes for a growing child but giving it to them six months later: sure, it was a perfect fit at the time, but not anymore. So here’s an idea: when writing your first draft, at some point between the beginning and the midway point, skip ahead and write an ending, in full. But don’t just write the ending you’re expecting to write: throw in a couple of ‘revelations’, even if they don’t make sense yet. For example: As Izzy charged out of the house and slammed the door behind her, she held her breath until she was out of sight of the windows. When she saw that the car was missing, she collapsed against the wall and burst into tears. Now, I have no idea why Izzy might be rushing from this house, why she is trying to get out of sight of the windows and why she would cry at the sight of a missing car. It wouldn’t be completely out of leftfield from my plan – for example, I would have already planned for Izzy to be my main character – but now I have something to work towards, something which I haven’t necessarily explained yet. So not only do I have a more concrete idea of what I’m working towards, but the ending also indicates plot points and features that I haven’t yet sown the seeds for, so the ending isn’t diminished and constricting but actually encourages twists and turns in the narrative. Of course, the ending that you just wrote is by no means set in stone any more than the rest of your draft is, so you don’t need to tie yourself in knots to reach for outlandish twist that you wrote on a whim. Regardless, there is no doubting that having an exciting climax that even you as the writer are looking forward to reaching will more likely result in a more satisfying conclusion to the tale. Do you have your own clever idea for how you plan and execute the endings to your stories? Let me know! Well, what with Star Wars currently poised to envelop the world like a benevolent Death Star blasting the planet with merchandise and record-breaking box office sales, I think it's the perfect time to take a step back and look at the book that inspired the whole thing. That book is The Hero with a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell. Whenever you watch the original trilogy, particularly A New Hope, and wonder why this movie has aged so well despite being almost 40 years old, it's because the storytelling is timeless. It's well-documented that George Lucas cites Hero with a Thousand Faces as the inspiration for the story structure of Star Wars. Be sure to watch the documentary Empire of Dreams for more on this. But what exactly is this book? It's a non-fiction analysis of how archetypal characters from myth and legend that have passed down the ages, regardless of whether they originated from Biblical tales, Ancient Greece, Celtic folklore, the Far East, the Wild West, wherever, all share certain traits and stages to their hero's journey. The Hero with a Thousand Faces lays out exactly what those stages are, full of examples classical and modern, from Jesus to Neo, Hercules to Luke Skywalker. It's an eye-opening read, one that makes you realize just how much shared DNA tales and their protagonists have in common. Moreover, it's a great way of looking at your own work and realizing how much (or how little) of the Hero's Journey is present in your own work. And if you're anything like me, you'll realize just how much you follow the Hero's Journey subconsciously. After first reading the Hero with a Thousand Faces, I couldn't help but retrace my steps through the books and novels I had enjoyed up to then, to see the same steps play out in radically different settings. But if you fear that it's the kind of book that spoils how you view stories, like how studying music ruins your casual enjoyment of listening to it, then don't worry: these classic stages that Campbell outlines have stood the test of time for good reason, and there's a huge amount of legroom for interpretation anyway. Besides, one of the most difficult obstacles new writers must overcome is the sheer lack of rules to the process. Oh sure, you here general tips bandied out - I've even dished out a few myself on my 'Off The Shelf' series - but most of those guidelines are instantly defied by instant classics that fly in the face of that advice and are critically acclaimed. But, if there ever was a rulebook for building the scaffolding to a your own story, then The Hero With A Thousand Faces is it. If you are writing a classical-style novel, then it's a great way to build that as well as diagnose the problems you may be encountering as you write. Or if you're writing something that is innovate and deliberately against-the-grain, then you know what they say: 'you've got to know the rules before you break the rules' The Hero with a Thousand Faces is essential reading for writers everywhere, both as an analysis of the ingredients of a protagonist's development and as a rich pool of knowledge and ideas for what to do with that development and where to take it. You know, it’s strange. We often hear about creators suffering from a lack of inspiration, a lack of ideas. And the internet is full of tips for overcoming that: what to do when you sit before a blank sheet of paper and how to get writing on it in the first place. But we very rarely hear of the opposite problem: having too many ideas. Having a head buzzing at all times with new story ideas, shocking plot twists, exciting new characters to meet, places to explore, from the moment one awakes to the moment you go to sleep again. I think you don’t hear much about it because it may not sound like a problem: a writer complaining about having too many ideas sounds obnoxious, like people who complain loudly about having too much free time. And yet having too many ideas swirling in the skull can be just as much of a problem as not having enough. The problem usually manifests itself in two ways: Scenario one: the writer with a mass of ideas agonizes over which of his ideas is best. After all, committing to one idea is a long-term commitment – writing takes time. But the writer is smitten with all of his ideas: they are all very different but hold their own appeal. And so the writer wrings his hands perpetually, as indecisive as that person who is paralysed by having more than one choice in places to eat out, and ultimately gets nothing done. Scenario two: the writer loves all of her ideas equally, but isn’t paralysed by them. Rather, she gives all of them an equal part to play in her story, throwing all of the ideas into big pot and serving up the resulting broth on the page. Unfortunately, while not lacking for ambition and good intention, it ends up being a hot mess: the story is all over the place, the disparate ideas not quite gelling or following a singular narrative. Neither outcome is desirable. So what to do? It doesn’t help that in one of my earliest blog posts I actively recommended melding two ideas together, but then again that was in the preliminary planning stages. Here you are still incubating the whole concept of the story from beginning to end, so the spine of the story, themes and raison d'être all fit snugly together. Lumping in sudden flashes of inspiration on-the-go may seem exciting to write in, but to a reader these can seem like sudden handbrake turns that feel like they were tacked on without much thought, because that’s exactly what happened. I have mentioned in a previous posts regarding characters that, in these times, nurturing and over-protecting your creations can be detrimental. Giving all of your ideas a voice in a single story is like a free-for-all orchestra where there is no sheet music and the conductor is too intimidated to control. Sometimes, yes, you need to know when to prioritize certain kernels and plans, and even when to cut an idea altogether. But, unlike killing off a character in a novel, take heart: so that awesome idea you had of the mysterious relative being from a distant future doesn’t work in your steampunk detective mystery? Well, put it on hold for another novel you may write! Just be sure to write it down and store it somewhere organized where you won’t forget. But how can you be sure if an idea is that much needed shock to the system that ignites the narrative and improves what was there before, or if it is not suited to what you are writing? It can be hard to tell, as ideas and functions on the narrative are by nature obtrusive, high-concept things. But this is where your planning stages come in handy: look again at what your end-goal is for the novel. Does your idea facilitate that end-goal? Does it fit with your books themes? Bear in mind that this isn’t the same as simply cherry-picking your ideas to ones that simply agree with what you’re trying to convey: on the contrary, a one-sided argument spread across hundreds of pages is dull and self-indulgent, and it is healthy to present the other side of the message you’re hoping to ultimately convey, but that’s the thing: it still fits, because the opposite side of the discussion is still within the same discussion. You aren’t straying too far from that sense of tightness that we talked about last week. On the other hand, if an idea is derailing your novel, and you find yourself having to justify the existence of that plot twist or new concept more than it is helping you to advance your story forward, then that is the sign of an idea that should be given the chop. Make no mistake, your ideas are still valuable, and there are writers out there who genuinely envy your overactive imagination, but with some restraint the beast can be controlled, and make it one of your best assets. Quality over quality. That's what they say. Much better to write one great book every five years than one mediocre book every year. And I agree. But what if you can have the best of both worlds? Quality AND quantity? You'd think that would be pretty much impossible as an author: there's only so much a single writer can do, after all. But Brandon Sanderson pulls it off, and oh boy does he pull it off with panache with his Mistborn Trilogy, beginning with the first book, The Final Empire. As I've mentioned before, I'm a big fan of those enticing premises, and this one is positively delicious: take the Lord of the Rings, except imagine if Sauron had won and 1000 years later he is still very much in charge of his cruel empire. Now imagine an ocean's eleven-style band of thieves and rogues banding together and plotting to overthrow the evil lord once and for all. Having said that, the setting of the Mistborn series couldn't be any more removed from the fantasy tropes of dwarves, elves and wizards if it tried. In fact, I don't recall swords ever being mentioned. No, it takes place in this medieval-ish dystopia, and the magical system of Allomancy is so different, well thought out and downright clever that it's a wonder nobody ever came up with it prior to Mr. Sanderson. Another wonderful feature of the series is the characters that successfully fly in the face of everything you'd expect of them. For example: there is a military type character called Ham, who in Allomantic terms is called a "Thug". I guess you have an idea in your mind what this guy's personality is, right? Now what if I told you that Ham is very much into philosophical debate and is the 'thinker' of the crew? Not what you expected, I'd wager! And I haven't even got to the main characters of Vin and Kelsier yet. But by far and away my favourite character in this series is Sazed. The journey this soft-spoken wise Terrisman goes through is just incredible. Sanderson's strengths lie in building intrigue: setting a scene and building a world that instantly begs certain questions. The very first sentence will have you wondering what's going on. He's oh so good at keeping you guessing, and he respects the intelligence of his readers. He knows that we know that there's more than meets to the eye to this world and the immortal Lord Ruler whom they are trying to overthrow. He leaves a trail of breadcrumbs that aren't too obvious, but when you hit a big reveal you will smile to yourself as you think, "Wow, that actually makes perfect sense, why didn't I notice that?" And Sanderson is excellent at wrapping things up. Seriously, his plotting is airtight. You just know that he's the kind of author who has folders full of organized notes, has thought through every single plot hole and has it all meticulously planned out before he has even started writing. Because you trust Sanderson that he will answer all the questions in exciting, unexpected ways that still makes sense, you as reader are in that rare but wonderful situation where every question yet to be answered is not a headache but a delight, like a Christmas present yet to be unwrapped. Most impressive of all, Sanderson saves his best for the last: I think I spent the last quarter of book three with my jaw dropped. It is quite possibly the finest ending to a book series I've ever read, and that's saying something. Now, the books aren't perfect, mind: I actually liked and appreciated the humour in these books, and there were times I burst out laughing. But sometimes I felt as though the humour was misplaced, breaking an appropriately sombre moment. It is rare, though. I can't recommend the Mistborn Trilogy enough. It does so much right, and when you consider that these amazing books came out one year at a time, while Sanderson also published other novels and short stories as well, it fills you with appreciation and respect. Mr. Sanderson, you are a machine, and I mean that in the best way! I love Christmas. I mean that sincerely: of course it's been many years since I've experienced that intense thrill of Tossing and turning on Christmas Eve as I waited for Santa to come, barely able to sleep a wink. Which wasn't helped by the fact that the night felt as long as Santa needed to get to the 2 billion kids in the world. No, what I have now is something of a more 'matured' Christmas mood. I now don the paper hat in the cracker 'ironically'. But one thing that has never changed is my love of a good old Christmassy story. In fact, I rely on them to get me in the mood for Christmas. I'm not alone, apparently. Whenever people are polled for what they do to get in the spirit of the season, watching a Christmassy movie or reading a Christmassy story is right up there with listening to music. That's high praise indeed, seeing as I ADORE the Tran-Siberian Orchestra. Moreover, to writers this is great news. Writing Christmas-themed stories have a ton of advantages. First and foremost, we all have very vivid memories when it comes to the season, fired by a healthy amount of imagination. It's a resource that's as rich as Christmas pudding. Even if you don't celebrate Christmas, certain tropes of the season are still relatable, but more on that later. The second reason is that Christmas is, by nature, a time for casting off cynicism and diving into a big warm bath sentiment and joy. There are things that an author can get away with in a Christmas story that would seem cloying and preachy if it were set at any other nondescript time of year. Can you imagine if 'A Christmas Carol' were set in the summer? You'd end up feeling sorry for poor Scrooge as he's harassed by the ghosts. But with Christmas framing the story and the expectation of what that brings (good will to all men), the ghosts' actions seem justified. The third reason is that Christmas is the ultimate preset for writing. We all know Christmas is, what it looks like, smells like, feels like. You don't need to describe what Santa Claus looks like, or the sound of jingle bells. The worldbuilding is already done for you, complete with a full set of Christmassy tools to play with, leaving you to just get on with telling a cracking good story within those parameters or delightfully subvert them. But the most important reason of all is that emotional core: think of all of your favorite Christmas stories. Chances are that in most of them, your protagonist isn't having the best Christmas ever (not at first, anyway). Again, Christmas comes with a pre-packaged expectation. It is almost synonymous with joy, as if everybody deserves to be happy at Christmas. Characters who are having a difficult life at Christmastime are instantly more relatable and easier to sympathize with because a) we've all been there, and b) we are all in agreement: people DO deserve to be happy at Christmas. It doesn't need to be justified any more than that. As mentioned earlier, it doesn't matter if you celebrate Christmas or not, or even if Christmas matters to you or the characters in your story: the emotions are still relatable. Look at Home Alone, for example. That is widely regarded to be a staple Christmas story, but is the physical presence of Christmas essential in that story? Not really. It could've been set at any other time of year. But by setting it at Christmas, it taps into those values of family, togetherness, and being careful what you wish for - something we can all relate to. I'll be honest: I think we're all aware that there's a campy kitsch to Christmas. There is nothing stylish about it. And quite frankly, that is something to be embraced. After all, sometimes having a look at the old-fashioned values that Christmas represent is a good thing, values which have been around for a long time for a reason. And there's no better ways to do that than with a mince pie, curled up in a chair and reading a book by the light of a crackling fire and glowing fairy lights on the tree. Fiction writing projects are massive undertakings that can stretch over years. In fact it's not unheard of for books to be a decade in the making. You don't need me to tell you that that's a long time. And people change over time. Priorities change, life circumstances shift, and the person you were when you set out writing that book is long gone by the time you write that last sentence. It's one of the many reasons why it's recommended that your first draft should be pulled out of you within the space of mere months: so it gives it a sense of a unified voice and tone. But it's inevitable that sometimes you will change course. The message of your book doesn't ring true for you any more, or quite frankly you've come with an even better idea for the course of the plot than the one you've started. So what to do? Do you stay true to your original vision, or do you chart a course into new waters? It's a tough question, one with no definite answer or rule. One thing that we can all agree on is that your draft shouldn't be at the mercy of whatever mood you're in that day. Some of the less-polished novels out there have open seams for all to see where you can see with your own eyes where the author put down their book for a couple of days then picked up the pen again with an oh-so-subtle but distinct new voice. Moreover, in certain books you can almost see the author having an epiphany as a fantastic new idea dawns upon them as they shoehorn in a fantastic new plot twist or a brilliant explanation that explains every plot hole up until now. But what about those genuinely good course changes? The ones that make sense and would ultimately benefit your novel? I think it depends on two factors: the base story, and what type of course-changing idea you have. There are plot-based stories and ideas that dictate the direction of your story, and then there are tone-based stories and ideas which envelope the story in a certain feel and will guide the reader towards a certain conclusion on the book's meaning, whether intended or not. Basically, if have a plot-based story and have a plot-based course changer, you should be able to integrate that change without much trouble, provided you reverse-engineer your plot appropriately so it doesn't appear that your new twist appeared out of the blue. For ones that are a mix of each (so plot-based stories with a tonal-change or vice-versa), you have a little more of a headache on your hands, as you might need reverse-your novel from the start. Tonal-changes mid-novel are possible but they can't appear out of nowhere. Foreshadowing is the key. Finally, if you have a novel that is all about the atmosphere and inspiring a certain emotion in your audience, then you should very, very carefully consider the consequences of changing that mid-novel. With a course changer like that, you're basically talking about writing a new novel altogether. And that's the thing: you shouldn't have to write a book that you don't want to write, but there is a benefit to writing a book that remains true to its vision from beginning to end. There's a purity and tightness to it: a novel sets out to do something, does it without wavering or taking detours, the end. Don't sell yourself short on just how valuable that is. To this day, it still feels like a honour that one of my friends is an International Bestselling Author. Her series of books are today’s showcase, however it’s not because she’s my friend that she is here: I actually discovered her books first, fell in love with them, and then through a planned event at my old Waterstone’s bookshop we met and forged a friendship from there. That author is Erin Hunter, and that book series is the Warriors Series.
Erin Hunter isn’t her real name, though: Erin Hunter is the penname under which a small group of authors write. It was the ‘head’ Erin I met, Vicky, thanks to these delightful books. The story is about Rusty, a house cat who craves a different life, something with more...adventure. One day, while poking around the nearby forest, he discovers a clan of wild cats living together, and he is intrigued. Rusty eventually earns membership with the clan, and the story follows his adventures as he learns and grows in this new world. But oh, the story is so much more than that! What if I told you that there are actually six books to the series? Impressive, right? Now, what if I told you that there are, at the time of writing, FIVE series, each with six books? And then there are the extra-long Super Edition books, the field guides, one-offs, and comic books? The Warriors series is an empire, a vast universe that spreads well, well beyond its humble origins of Rusty. I started reading these books as some background research into Tick, and if you read the Warriors series you will quickly see where I draw my inspiration. But I kept reading. These books are my reading equivalent of comfort food: they are easy to read, straightforward adventures, yet with a vast world to dig deep into like a bowl endless ice cream. Not that any of it is dull. These are not cutesy cuddly cats living in the woods. Ooh no. Think of Warriors as a feline Game of Thrones. You have warring clans, shifting allegiances, and Erin is not shy of killing off her characters. They fight. They back stab. They conspire. They bleed. They starve to death. Erin has taken wildcats as far away from anthropomorphic as you can, stopping just short of taking the dialogue away! So even though the Warriors series is a kind of...cozy book series to me, there is always this underlying tension, bursting into frenetic and excellent action set-pieces. And remember, it's a very long book series. You can grow attached to characters you've known for over dozens of books. Revelations and deaths can really hit you hard. It might seem strange that little ol' me here is pushing you all to go and read the novels of someone who has already topped the New York Times bestseller lists, but I really do love this series that much. If you're looking for a massive series to dig your claws into, you can do no better. |
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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