Category Archives: edit

Constructing a Story Part 2: Builiding a Story

by
Charlotte Firbank-King

You have the glimmer of a story—basically the head and spine of your skeleton.

Make a list:

What genre is it?

Main protagonists—hero and heroine. How they look, their likes and dislikes, their flaws and strengths.

Main villain or villains—their looks, fetishes, etc.

Avoid back flashes as much as possible. Rather, write a prologue or weave the back flashes into the story through dialogue, but keep it BRIEF.

Don’t start the story with in-depth descriptions of the characters—make them natural through observation from a character or dialogue—again, brevity is the key word.

Every story has a problem that needs to be solved or there wouldn’t be a story.

We’ve had blogs on how to open a story—the first paragraph must capture the reader immediately—hook them.

Set the scene—give it atmosphere and ground the reader. Tell them where they are—the moon, Outer Mongolia, Bangladesh, or the Arctic. As you write, see, smell, taste and feel every single scene.

Present the problem or series of problems. Perhaps the hero finds a body. Now, we have a homicide or accident. He reports it to the heroine, who needs to solve it. This is where you need to be quite clear about “whodunnit,” but not the reader.

As you build the story, keep track of who is where and what they are doing at any given time. Make a list:

1) Joe finds body in car

2) Mary from NYPD is called to investigate

1 & 2: the problem to be solved 

3) Joe contaminates crime scene by hugging body

4) Mary furious with Joe

3 & 4: we have conflict between protagonists

Question that needs an answer:

Why did Joe hug the body?

Answer—the victim is his wife

Now Joe is a suspect

Enter Marc, the brother 

Joe accuses brother of having an affair with wife

Forensic expert discovers victim was pregnant

The baby’s DNA is not a match to Marc or Joe

This adds to the conflict and mystery.

All the while, you build atmosphere and tension—see and smell the car and surroundings where the victim is found—then the police station and the morgue. Show us Joe and Marc’s anger as they play a blame game—show us Mary’s frustration.

Make your reader fall in love with, empathize with, get frustrated by, or hate characters by fleshing out their appearance, traits, and personalities. But in small bites—DON’T do it all at once. You have the power as a writer to make readers feel what you want them to feel. Embroider on your characters as you go. Bring out their faults and strengths slowly. They must grow or deteriorate in a believable way.

Slowly, you build the story to a flowing climax. The character list will probably be added to, but watch the names. Don’t call one Joe and another Josephine. More tension as Mary gets to the truth—whatever you decide that might be. Keep the tension and atmosphere going. Watch the beginning and ends of chapters. Those were dealt with in one of our previous blogs.

Never start a story with cameos of each character’s traits, looks, likes and dislikes—that will just bore the reader—weave it into the story.

Don’t have too many unanswered questions, mysteries. Give the reader occasional clues without giving the game away. You can even lead the reader on a false trail to make the ending a shock, but that means keeping a tight rein on the plot.

Then start tying up loose ends as you work towards an ending.

Things to avoid:

Constant flash backs

A convoluted plot that becomes so confusing that you don’t even know what is going on. Keep it simple yet seemingly complex. Things have to run in a chronological order and be realistic.

Don’t create scenarios or coincidences just to make things work.

Show, don’t tell—see IFW tips.

Watch the point of view at all times and avoid head hopping—see IFW tips on POV.

Keep internal dialogue to a minimum, and don’t use too much internal or vocal dialogue as a vehicle to impart information.

Above all, the story must flow. Hook in the opening paragraph—the problem/mystery that needs an answer—build to a climax whilst resolving—then the final act where all is revealed. If the story has a sequel, then it ends on a cliff-hanger. 

In conclusion:

Research is vital. If you aren’t a forensic, gun, or knife expert—research it. Know nothing about cars or carriages? Depending on the era—research it. Even absolute fantasy needs research.

If your mystery/murder is historical, research even the manner of speech—but don’t go over the top with how they speak, especially when using the vernacular; you will just irritate the reader. Certain words weren’t in use a hundred years ago—check them first—the Merriam Webster dictionary is great for this.
Then edit, edit, edit, and edit even more.

Deadly Sin Two: Telling Not Showing

by Sandy Tritt

The First Rule of Writing is Show, Don’t Tell. That sounds easy, but what, exactly, does show mean? It means we must act out our scenes using action and dialogue in such a way that our reader can visualize exactly where he is and who he’s with—all while keeping him on the edge of his seat. Let’s look at an example:

Carey ate breakfast, then he took a shower and went to the store. At the store he met a girl and they talked for a long time. Carey liked her but she blew him off. Then he went home.

Tells you a lot about Carey, huh? Okay—so this example is exaggerated, but it hits home the necessity of showing and not telling. What can we do to fix it? We need more detail, especially in dialogue and action. Consider:

     Carey studied the frozen dinners. He’d had turkey and dressing for the last four days, so Salisbury steak would be good for a change. But did he want the “Big Man’’ or the regular?
     A scent teased his nose. Not the overwhelming smell of fish and frostbite, but a fresh smell, like the smell of skin just out of the shower. He glanced sideways and saw the most perfect arm he’d ever seen in his life. Long, slender, graceful, full of sinewy muscle and smooth skin. His eyes followed the arm to the shoulder and then the head. Her head. A head covered with long blond hair and containing a face that made his heart stop.
    “Hi,” she said, her voice rich and melodious.
     Carey’s mouth didn’t work. He tried to return her greeting, but only a grunt came out. He tried to smile politely, but his face erupted with a grin as large and toothy and goofy as a cartoon character’s . . .

So now you have the idea. We need details. We need to know thoughts, feelings; we need to smell the perfume, taste the wine, feel the cashmere. It is especially important to act out emotions and emotionally-packed scenes. This is the writer’s opportunity to shine. Never tell us what a character is feeling. Show us. Anything less cheats the reader from experiencing our imaginary world.

Bad: John was angry.
Good: John’s eyes narrowed. He slammed his fist on the table.

We also find the “show, don’t tell” problem in less-apparent ways. For example, in description.

Bad: Mary was a pretty girl, with blue eyes and blond hair.
Good: Mary’s blue eyes glistened with joy, her blond hair bouncing with each step.


Bad: Molly is a wonderful person.
Good: Molly is always there when anyone needs her. She’s the first to arrive with a casserole when someone is sick, the first to send a note of encouragement to those who are troubled, the first to offer a hug to anyone—man, woman or child—at anytime.

Instead of saying Sam is a talented musician, let us hear the crowds cheer, let us feel his passion. Take us into his head as he strokes the piano keys:
     
     Consummation of the soul. That’s what Sam called the gratification he received from music. When his passion became so intense it begged to be satisfied, pleaded to be released, and he was helpless to resist its urges. When his fingers assumed a life of their own, titillating the ivory keys with the complex music of Bach and Mozart and Beethoven, and he became one with the cadence, breathing with the crescendos, his fingers caressing the melody, until everything else faded, everything else disappeared, and only the music existed.

Dialogue is another area where we have the opportunity to show or to tell. “I love you,” she crooned. “I love you, too,” he sputtered. And I cringe. First, using creative dialogue tags (crooned, sputtered) is telling, not showing. Let the power of your dialogue and the accompanying action show your readers the tone of voice and the emotion. Consider:

     “I love you,” she said, her voice smooth as her fingers massaged his Rolex.
     “Love you, too,” he said. His glassy eyes roved over her naked body, his mouth too wet and limp to properly form words.

You can’t tell us someone is a wonderful person, a talented musician or a spoiled child. We won’t believe you. You must show us. Throughout your manuscript, look for any opportunity to show us in real time, to act out, to let us feel.

But—does this mean we should act out absolutely everything? Uh-uh. Let’s face it—if we showed everything, our novels would run tens of thousands of pages—and readers would die of exhaustion. So what do we do? We must decide what information the reader needs. Just because we know everything about our characters and just because we spent weeks researching, it isn’t necessary to share everything we know with our reader. We must choose only the details we need to authenticate our story and omit everything else.

One of the most difficult and most crucial elements in story-telling is knowing when to give play-by-play action and when to back off and summarize. Play with this. If a scene doesn’t hold your interest, maybe it is better to summarize it in a sentence or two and go on to something more important. However, if it is a pivotal scene in the plot or critical to our understanding how our character reacts in a given situation, go for it. Give us action, give us dialogue, and let us experience and savor every single moment of it.

BONUS TIP: Never name an emotion. That’s a sure-fire giveaway that you’re telling and not showing.

© 2008 Sandy Tritt. All rights reserved.

For more tips visit www.InspirationForWriters.com

Writing Tip Card – Writing Wrongs

What do editors do when they get bored? (Okay, that’s a trick question. Editors don’t have time to get bored). However, in their spare time, the editors at Inspiration for Writers, Inc., made a list of the top “writing wrongs” they encounter. As the list grew, so did the suggestions for what to do with such a list. The result? A 3.75″ x 8.25″ glossy card you can keep by your computer to remind you to right your writing wrongs before sending out your manuscript.

The best news? We’ll send a free card to the first ten people who email Sandy at IFWeditors@gmail.com. Be sure to send your full mailing address and state what you want (a free Writing Wrongs card). If you belong to a writing group and would like enough for your group, email Sandy with the number of people in your group.

Now, in case you can’t wait for your full-color card, here’s what they say:

WRITING WRONGS
Think your manuscript is ready to send out into the world? Before you do, polish your prose by eliminating or reducing:
~ Spelling and grammar errors. Proof once more.
~ Telling. Take the time to act out scenes with appropriate action, dialogue, and description.
~ Was, were, is, are. Each time you locate one of these “to-be” verbs, find a way to omit it. They are often a clue of passive sentence construction. Bad: There were three boys in the room. Better: Three boys wrestled in the gym. Note that fixing passive construction forces us to use more powerful verbs and urges us to be more specific.
~ Present participles (the fancy name for “ing” verbs). Replace with past tense wherever possible. Bad: It was raining. Better: Rain pelted the windows.
~ Helping verbs. Bad: She began to sing. Better: She sang. Bad: She could hear a train. A little better: She heard a train. Much better: A train whistled in the distance.
~ Adverbs. “Ly” words are a sign that a stronger verb is needed. Bad: She was exceedingly tired. Better: She was exhausted. Better: Exhaustion weighed her shoulders, ached her limbs.
~ Creative dialogue tags. Bad: “I love it,” she jittered. Better: “I love it,” she said.
~ Dialogue tags. Replace with an action or body language. Better: “I love it!” She hopped on one foot and danced around John.
~ Dialogue explanations. Don’t tell your reader what your dialogue shows. Bad: John told her off. “Don’t you ever do that again!” Better: John’s eye twitched. “Don’t ever do that again!”
~ Intensifiers. Very, really, totally, completely.
~ Any nonessential word. If a sentence reads just as well without a word, leave it out. Common criminals: that, of, prepositions at the end of a sentence, and suddenly used to create urgency (when action should be creating that urgency).
~ Clichés. If you’ve heard it before, so has your reader. Find a fresh way to say it.
~ Stacked adjectives. If you must use an adjective, pick the strongest one. Bad: The large, gray, angry fox attacked the rabbit. Better: The large fox attacked the rabbit.
~ Exclamation marks. Use only when shouting.
~ Ellipses ( . . . ). Use only when text is missing or, occasionally, as a device to show a falling off in tone during dialogue.
~ Redundancy. Say it once; say it right. Readers are smart. Really.
~ Viewpoint breaches. Know whose head you’re in and stay in it. Or stay out of all heads.
~ Smiling, nodding, laughing, sighing. Nothing wrong with these, but overuse will remove the sizzle from your finely-crafted words. If you use any of these more than once per scene, try to find more creative actions or fresher body language.
~ Gawking characters. Get your character out of the way of the action. Bad: John saw the sun rise. Better: The sun tiptoed into the horizon. Bad: Jill watched the squirrel shell nuts. Better: The squirrel shelled nuts.
~ Named emotions. If an emotion is named, it means you’re telling, not showing. Bad: She was angry. Better: She slammed her fist on the keyboard.

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Be sure to request your card while supplies last. And remember, when you need a second set of eyes to review your writing, we’re here.

(c) copyright 2011, Inspiration for Writers, Inc. All rights reserved.