by Lucy Marsden
I try. God knows, I try.
I plot and I plan and I do Goal Motivation and Conflict outlines for them, but are my characters grateful? They are not. Currently, they’re ignoring all the lovely thematic elements I’ve laid out for them, and are morphing like X-Men.
I guess we just can’t have nice things.
Eleven thousand words into this manuscript, it’s looking more like a patchwork quilt than any kind of cohesive narrative, and the people currently in a lip-lock with each other are disdaining any knowledge of the characters who showed up in their first scenes. It’s gotten to the point that I’m grateful to my hero for shifting from the charming con-man I’d originally envisioned, into an irascible Beast—at least I know what he wants and why. But that heroine of mine has regenerated more often than a Time Lord, and if she could find a minute to drop me a post card with the address of her current head-space, I surely would appreciate it.
How is this possible? How is it possible to figure out a forgery plot so good that it synchronistically shows up on an episode of LEVERAGE (Love. That. Show.)—and still be floundering with my heroine? Why won’t that wench just gel, already?
If you, or anyone you know (or anyone you’ve ever even been “Friended” by on Facebook), would like to stop by with a box of tissues, or a stiff drink and an explanation, that would be delightful. Until then, I'm choosing to believe that I am in the process of discovering these characters, and that all will be revealed in the fullness of time.
Please, please, please...
Lucy Marsden is a romance writer living in New England. When she’s not backstage at a magic show or crashing a physics picnic, she can be found knee-deep in the occult collection of some old library, or arguing hotly about Story.
Showing posts with label Lucy Marsden. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Lucy Marsden. Show all posts
Friday, December 7, 2012
Monday, September 10, 2012
No Talking Heads
by Lucy Marsden
Talking Head Syndrome.
It's a thing that I notice when I and other writers are bolting through a story, particularly if it's our style to do early drafts mostly in dialogue. It's line after line of conversation, with enough "said" in the mix so that we can tell which character is speaking, but too few of the action tags, facial expressions, tone of voice indicators, and internal dialogue tags necessary to convey the full impact of the words being spoken. In her fantastic Romance Writers of America presentation, Dialogue: It's More Than What You Say, author Julia Quinn puts it like this: "The first thing to remember, is that dialogue has two parts. There is the part between the quotation marks, or WHAT IS SAID, and there is the part outside the quotation marks, or HOW IT IS SAID."
We need both parts in order to really bring our dialogue home, so today's post is going to (briefly) touch on the tools we writers have at our disposal when crafting the "how" of dialogue.
Said
I know the word is out on this one, but let me repeat it here for emphasis: Using the tagline "said"—rather than forcing our characters to squeak, mumble, hiss, or shout—is perfectly OK. In fact, it's generally preferable, since we know that readers don't "see" the tagline, and it makes for a smooth experience of reading dialogue.
Other Utterances
This isn't to say that characters should never squeak, mumble, hiss, or shout; these tags can add a lot of fun and flavor to our dialogue when used judiciously.
Adverbs
Ditto. If someone delivers a verbal stiletto sweetly, or answers cautiously, these are valid, useful ways to deliver the impact of the dialogue, as long as they aren't overdone. Overuse of adverbs can contribute to "telling" rather than "showing," but they're still nice to have in our toolbox. To reference Julia Quinn one more time: "Adverbs are not your friends, but there is no reason they can't be your casual acquaintances."
Action Tags and Body Language
Action tags are fantastic: they really help us to show, not tell. And if it's true that communication is mostly non-verbal, then it's doubly important for us to provide details about facial expressions, whether a character's posture is tense or relaxed, and the rate of someone's breathing.
Tone of Voice
Once it a while, is it as dry as the Sahara? Oily enough to lubricate a hinge? Excellent! Then this is one more way of delivering impact that also utilizes sensory input and our enjoyment of simile and metaphor—a bargain if there ever was one.
And Lastly, Internal Dialogue
When what we say out loud is juxtaposed with what we're thinking in the privacy of our heads, it's wonderful, so we shouldn't miss out on this opportunity to add a touch of irony and a splash of humor by utilizing internal dialogue as a counterpoint for what is spoken.
So there we have it. I want to wrap up this post by acknowledging that each writer will use these tools differently. The choices we make will be a reflection of our voices as writers, a reflection of the voices of our characters, and a reflection of the feel of a particular story. More important than any one approach to using these tools, is a growing sense of awareness of how these techniques work, and an increasing sense of confidence that we can employ them to create the results that we want. Please stop in and talk about the choices you make when writing dialogue—the tools you're comfortable using, and the tools you'd forgotten existed.
Lucy Marsden is a romance writer living in New England. When she’s not backstage at a magic show or crashing a physics picnic, she can be found knee-deep in the occult collection of some old library, or arguing hotly about Story.
Talking Head Syndrome.
It's a thing that I notice when I and other writers are bolting through a story, particularly if it's our style to do early drafts mostly in dialogue. It's line after line of conversation, with enough "said" in the mix so that we can tell which character is speaking, but too few of the action tags, facial expressions, tone of voice indicators, and internal dialogue tags necessary to convey the full impact of the words being spoken. In her fantastic Romance Writers of America presentation, Dialogue: It's More Than What You Say, author Julia Quinn puts it like this: "The first thing to remember, is that dialogue has two parts. There is the part between the quotation marks, or WHAT IS SAID, and there is the part outside the quotation marks, or HOW IT IS SAID."
We need both parts in order to really bring our dialogue home, so today's post is going to (briefly) touch on the tools we writers have at our disposal when crafting the "how" of dialogue.
Said
I know the word is out on this one, but let me repeat it here for emphasis: Using the tagline "said"—rather than forcing our characters to squeak, mumble, hiss, or shout—is perfectly OK. In fact, it's generally preferable, since we know that readers don't "see" the tagline, and it makes for a smooth experience of reading dialogue.
Other Utterances
This isn't to say that characters should never squeak, mumble, hiss, or shout; these tags can add a lot of fun and flavor to our dialogue when used judiciously.
Adverbs
Ditto. If someone delivers a verbal stiletto sweetly, or answers cautiously, these are valid, useful ways to deliver the impact of the dialogue, as long as they aren't overdone. Overuse of adverbs can contribute to "telling" rather than "showing," but they're still nice to have in our toolbox. To reference Julia Quinn one more time: "Adverbs are not your friends, but there is no reason they can't be your casual acquaintances."
Action Tags and Body Language
Action tags are fantastic: they really help us to show, not tell. And if it's true that communication is mostly non-verbal, then it's doubly important for us to provide details about facial expressions, whether a character's posture is tense or relaxed, and the rate of someone's breathing.
Tone of Voice
Once it a while, is it as dry as the Sahara? Oily enough to lubricate a hinge? Excellent! Then this is one more way of delivering impact that also utilizes sensory input and our enjoyment of simile and metaphor—a bargain if there ever was one.
And Lastly, Internal Dialogue
When what we say out loud is juxtaposed with what we're thinking in the privacy of our heads, it's wonderful, so we shouldn't miss out on this opportunity to add a touch of irony and a splash of humor by utilizing internal dialogue as a counterpoint for what is spoken.
So there we have it. I want to wrap up this post by acknowledging that each writer will use these tools differently. The choices we make will be a reflection of our voices as writers, a reflection of the voices of our characters, and a reflection of the feel of a particular story. More important than any one approach to using these tools, is a growing sense of awareness of how these techniques work, and an increasing sense of confidence that we can employ them to create the results that we want. Please stop in and talk about the choices you make when writing dialogue—the tools you're comfortable using, and the tools you'd forgotten existed.
Lucy Marsden is a romance writer living in New England. When she’s not backstage at a magic show or crashing a physics picnic, she can be found knee-deep in the occult collection of some old library, or arguing hotly about Story.
Friday, August 10, 2012
Hamstringing My Story
by Lucy Marsden
I don't know exactly how it happens, but the cycle goes something like this:
1) I get an idea for an approach to a story that I spend a lot of time developing, and that I become very invested in. Once this happens, I no longer see the approach as one among many possible choices for the given story dynamic; it just is.
2) I attempt to implement the approach, but either a) the approach is inherently broken, or b) I personally don't have the chops to pull it off. In any case, the end result is that I completely gum up the action or character development, bogging the entire story down.
3) I don't question the chosen approach, because it has become invisible to me. Instead, I just continue to do whatever I've been doing harder, becoming increasingly frustrated and demoralized.
4) I lather, rinse, repeat.
5) Eventually, by the grace of the gods (or some kind but pointed remarks from my critique partner, who is fatigued by all the wailing and gnashing of teeth), I realize—to take an instance at random—"Wow, if I stop insisting that this book is the first in a series about four roommates, all of whom will use this first scene as the jumping off point for their own stories, and I allow the book to about a particular heroine whose story crosses paths with the others in the series in a fun, but non-strangling fashion, this could totally work!"
6) I call my writing buddies to discuss, once again, the warning signs of early-onset dementia, but decide that, given my baseline, it's going to be a tough call.
Am I alone in this bone-headedness? Please drop in with tales of how you, too, practically beat your story to death by insisting on a certain approach to it. (If you've never had this experience before, kindly have the common courtesy to make something up. Thank you.)
Lucy Marsden is a romance writer living in New England. When she’s not backstage at a magic show or crashing a physics picnic, she can be found knee-deep in the occult collection of some old library, or arguing hotly about Story.
I don't know exactly how it happens, but the cycle goes something like this:
1) I get an idea for an approach to a story that I spend a lot of time developing, and that I become very invested in. Once this happens, I no longer see the approach as one among many possible choices for the given story dynamic; it just is.
2) I attempt to implement the approach, but either a) the approach is inherently broken, or b) I personally don't have the chops to pull it off. In any case, the end result is that I completely gum up the action or character development, bogging the entire story down.
3) I don't question the chosen approach, because it has become invisible to me. Instead, I just continue to do whatever I've been doing harder, becoming increasingly frustrated and demoralized.
4) I lather, rinse, repeat.
5) Eventually, by the grace of the gods (or some kind but pointed remarks from my critique partner, who is fatigued by all the wailing and gnashing of teeth), I realize—to take an instance at random—"Wow, if I stop insisting that this book is the first in a series about four roommates, all of whom will use this first scene as the jumping off point for their own stories, and I allow the book to about a particular heroine whose story crosses paths with the others in the series in a fun, but non-strangling fashion, this could totally work!"
6) I call my writing buddies to discuss, once again, the warning signs of early-onset dementia, but decide that, given my baseline, it's going to be a tough call.
Am I alone in this bone-headedness? Please drop in with tales of how you, too, practically beat your story to death by insisting on a certain approach to it. (If you've never had this experience before, kindly have the common courtesy to make something up. Thank you.)
Lucy Marsden is a romance writer living in New England. When she’s not backstage at a magic show or crashing a physics picnic, she can be found knee-deep in the occult collection of some old library, or arguing hotly about Story.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
Juggling Multiple Manuscripts
by Lucy Marsden
I can't walk and chew gum at the same time, so I can't imagine what I was thinking when I took on that second story.
Actually, I tell a lie.
My critique partner dared me to do it, and I was feeling frustrated with my Work In Progress at the moment, and the temptation to escape my soul-searing lack of imagination* was overwhelming—that's what I was thinking.
You know how it is when you've got a story idea in your hand, bright and shiny as a new penny. It's all fun and possibility. It's researching, and running amok on Pinterest for pictures of the setting and characters, and putting together soundtracks for your hero and heroine, and not worrying at all about how you're to tell the damn thing. It's my favorite time during a story, before I feel as though the lovely, shimmering thread of it has been snagged, and knotted, and suspiciously stained, and generally pulled all out of shape by clumsy handling.**
So when, as I say, my critique partner issued her challenge, I leapt into all of the above with a gladsome heart, only to find...
My first story wouldn't let me go. Little by little, despite my bouts of frustration and heart-felt profanity, I had turned a corner with it. My characters were becoming real to me; they were pushing for what they needed, pushing back against each other, and the story was truly going somewhere.
At last.
And I decided that I didn't want to walk away from that to chase the shiny, not when I could feel my first story beginning to tell me what it wanted to be. So I let the second story go—not forever; it sends me postcards now and again, and points me to pertinent articles in travel magazines—it'll be waiting for me when the time is right. But for now, I'm choosing not to split my focus.
What about you? Have you been energized and inspired by the challenge of juggling multiple manuscripts at the same time, or discombobulated by the necessity of jumping back and forth?
Lucy Marsden is a romance writer living in New England. When she’s not backstage at a magic show or crashing a physics picnic, she can be found knee-deep in the occult collection of some old library, or arguing hotly about Story.
* Cue the violins.
** Ibid.
I can't walk and chew gum at the same time, so I can't imagine what I was thinking when I took on that second story.
Actually, I tell a lie.
My critique partner dared me to do it, and I was feeling frustrated with my Work In Progress at the moment, and the temptation to escape my soul-searing lack of imagination* was overwhelming—that's what I was thinking.
You know how it is when you've got a story idea in your hand, bright and shiny as a new penny. It's all fun and possibility. It's researching, and running amok on Pinterest for pictures of the setting and characters, and putting together soundtracks for your hero and heroine, and not worrying at all about how you're to tell the damn thing. It's my favorite time during a story, before I feel as though the lovely, shimmering thread of it has been snagged, and knotted, and suspiciously stained, and generally pulled all out of shape by clumsy handling.**
So when, as I say, my critique partner issued her challenge, I leapt into all of the above with a gladsome heart, only to find...
My first story wouldn't let me go. Little by little, despite my bouts of frustration and heart-felt profanity, I had turned a corner with it. My characters were becoming real to me; they were pushing for what they needed, pushing back against each other, and the story was truly going somewhere.
At last.
And I decided that I didn't want to walk away from that to chase the shiny, not when I could feel my first story beginning to tell me what it wanted to be. So I let the second story go—not forever; it sends me postcards now and again, and points me to pertinent articles in travel magazines—it'll be waiting for me when the time is right. But for now, I'm choosing not to split my focus.
What about you? Have you been energized and inspired by the challenge of juggling multiple manuscripts at the same time, or discombobulated by the necessity of jumping back and forth?
Lucy Marsden is a romance writer living in New England. When she’s not backstage at a magic show or crashing a physics picnic, she can be found knee-deep in the occult collection of some old library, or arguing hotly about Story.
* Cue the violins.
** Ibid.
Monday, June 11, 2012
Getting Up To Speed
by Lucy Marsden
As a general rule, I write slowly.
This isn't entirely a bad thing; it tends to mean that what ends up on the page in terms of dialogue, action, and emotion pretty closely represents the eventual end-product, and that I can look forward to some actual fun during revisions.
If I ever bloody get there, that is.
So although I've accepted what is probably an innate tendency in my writing process, I am currently experimenting with approaches to increase the pace of my writing. I don't expect to become a speed-demon at the keyboard, but I do want to learn how to get my characters and my story on the page solidly in a first draft, and in a time-frame less reminiscent of a geological ice-age.
Here, in no particular order, is what I've discovered so far about pacing my writing:
1. I need to write every day, if I possibly can.
This isn't always do-able, but when it is, it helps hugely in maintaining the momentum of my writing. It takes a lot for me to finally get to the place where the outside world and my own internal flanneling fall away enough for me to really feel and hear my characters. It's at this point that I notice my writing begins to flow, and I know now that I'm able to re-establish that connection more quickly when I'm writing every day.
2. I need to allow myself to focus on dialogue first.
Dialogue is, apparently, how I lay down the bones of my characters and my story, and I know I'm lucky in that respect. But even if I gravitated to writing setting first, I've still learned that it would be in the best interests of my writing to honor this urge and start getting the story DOWN.
3. I need to trust that the other story elements CAN be addressed in the next draft. Really, they can.
This is a biggie. I'm a Craft wonk, and so I have an internal editor from Hell. She'd be an absolute peach if she'd just go hang out at a Starbucks somewhere with somebody else's book until I'm ready for revisions, but she worries about me so. Left to my own devices, she's pretty sure that I'm not going to be able to fully flesh out my scenes, and articulate every nuance of my characters if I don't do it RIGHT NOW. Frankly, I am still figuring out how to get enough on the page so that she's reassured, while keeping the story moving smartly forward. It helps that I've got a CP whose first drafts are also mostly dialogue, whose writing pace is healthy, and who I observe going back to add critical layers in later drafts. If other writers do this successfully, then I can trust myself to do it, too.
What have you folks found helpful in terms of pacing and productivity? How do you keep you internal editor at bay long enough to get your story delivered?
Lucy Marsden is a romance writer living in New England. When she’s not backstage at a magic show or crashing a physics picnic, she can be found knee-deep in the occult collection of some old library, or arguing hotly about Story.
As a general rule, I write slowly.
This isn't entirely a bad thing; it tends to mean that what ends up on the page in terms of dialogue, action, and emotion pretty closely represents the eventual end-product, and that I can look forward to some actual fun during revisions.
If I ever bloody get there, that is.
So although I've accepted what is probably an innate tendency in my writing process, I am currently experimenting with approaches to increase the pace of my writing. I don't expect to become a speed-demon at the keyboard, but I do want to learn how to get my characters and my story on the page solidly in a first draft, and in a time-frame less reminiscent of a geological ice-age.
Here, in no particular order, is what I've discovered so far about pacing my writing:
1. I need to write every day, if I possibly can.
This isn't always do-able, but when it is, it helps hugely in maintaining the momentum of my writing. It takes a lot for me to finally get to the place where the outside world and my own internal flanneling fall away enough for me to really feel and hear my characters. It's at this point that I notice my writing begins to flow, and I know now that I'm able to re-establish that connection more quickly when I'm writing every day.
2. I need to allow myself to focus on dialogue first.
Dialogue is, apparently, how I lay down the bones of my characters and my story, and I know I'm lucky in that respect. But even if I gravitated to writing setting first, I've still learned that it would be in the best interests of my writing to honor this urge and start getting the story DOWN.
3. I need to trust that the other story elements CAN be addressed in the next draft. Really, they can.
This is a biggie. I'm a Craft wonk, and so I have an internal editor from Hell. She'd be an absolute peach if she'd just go hang out at a Starbucks somewhere with somebody else's book until I'm ready for revisions, but she worries about me so. Left to my own devices, she's pretty sure that I'm not going to be able to fully flesh out my scenes, and articulate every nuance of my characters if I don't do it RIGHT NOW. Frankly, I am still figuring out how to get enough on the page so that she's reassured, while keeping the story moving smartly forward. It helps that I've got a CP whose first drafts are also mostly dialogue, whose writing pace is healthy, and who I observe going back to add critical layers in later drafts. If other writers do this successfully, then I can trust myself to do it, too.
What have you folks found helpful in terms of pacing and productivity? How do you keep you internal editor at bay long enough to get your story delivered?
Lucy Marsden is a romance writer living in New England. When she’s not backstage at a magic show or crashing a physics picnic, she can be found knee-deep in the occult collection of some old library, or arguing hotly about Story.
Friday, May 11, 2012
It's Here! The Writewell Academy for Wayward Writers
If you liked the March post on Anchor Scenes for Story Structure, then have I got an announcement for you.
New York Times bestselling authors Jennifer Crusie and Lani Diane Rich, who separately are powerhouses of story craft awesomeness, have come together to offer the Writewell Academy for Wayward Writers, an online series of video-lectures, .mp3 downloads, and printable workbooks for anyone excited about the possibility of developing a really strong foundation for writing Craft “In Your Own Time, In Your Own Home, In Your Pajamas (Or Whatever).”
What a motto. And here’s a clip from Writewell:
The free introductory lecture, which provides an overview of the Academy in a Kenote slideshow download, also allows people to download an .mp3 audio file, and a .pdf Notebook, thereby previewing the course information, the delivery style of Crusie and Rich, and the formats in which the content will be delivered. After that, each 30-minute course (organized at the 100-Level, 200-Level, and 300-Level) is available for $10.
I downloaded both Rich’s Introduction to Discovery, and Crusie’s Introduction to Conflict. The links were available immediately after payment, and all of the downloads went without a hitch. The .pdf workbook includes copies of all of the slides, as well as space in which to take additional notes and record in-the-moment epiphanies, which I appreciated, because it meant that I could just relax and absorb the content from the slideshow.
As for the information itself, it was superb. I’m biased, of course, but I believe that writers at every level will appreciate the clarity and the incisiveness with which the concepts are presented, as well as the detailed examples that are given to illustrate how the concepts play out in story development. At times, it’s like watching Penn and Teller break down one of their illusions so that you can see, step-by-step, how the magic comes together: It’s entertaining, inspiring, and if you’re determined to make magic as a story-teller, empowering as all hell. You’re given concrete tools to use in working with your story, and whether you’re a plotter who will want to use the tools early on in the writing process, or a pantser who will find them helpful as part of the revision process, the techniques are there for you. The fact that the information is available visually, aurally, and in print means that you can access the content in whatever way is most useful to you at the time—at home, in the car, Or Whatever.
For myself, I’m hoping to talk my writing circle into coming to play at Writewell, too. The only thing that would make this experience better for me is the chance to bounce some of the ideas around with other folks, using our own stories to explore the course content. My critique partner and I have a long and enjoyable tradition of getting together to argue about Craft concepts that neither of us totally has a handle on, so Writewell promises to provide hours of fun in that respect, if nothing else.
In closing, I’d love to use this post as a jumping-off point for you wise, wonderful FTWA readers to share links and general suggestions for writing courses of any kind that you’ve found powerful. After all, no one option is going to be a fit for every writer, and the more options we have to play with, the stronger and more enjoyable our development as writers can be. See you in the Comments!
Lucy Marsden is a romance writer living in New England. When she’s not backstage at a magic show or crashing a physics picnic, she can be found knee-deep in the occult collection of some old library, or arguing hotly about Story.
Monday, April 16, 2012
It's All About The Zing
by Lucy Marsden
As usual, I’ve been finding the posts of my compatriots here at FTWA both thought-provoking and timely. In particular, I’ve been musing on RC’s post about Balancing on the Edge of Your Comfort Zone, and Jemi’s discussion of Writing What You Read.
What I heard both of them saying is this: stretch yourself, and play with different aspects of writing if they call to you and they enhance your process, but don’t sacrifice your authenticity or your integrity as a writer. (And by integrity, I’m talking less about morality, and more about “the state of being whole and undivided.”)
What I think it comes down to, is that we risk diluting, confusing, or really alienating our Voice as writers when we push ourselves to create in ways that aren’t true to us. Voice is ... well, Voice is a lot of things. I think of it as the absolutely unique flavor of our writing. Some of it is world view, and some of it is word choice and cadence, and some of it is our take on the story we’re telling—the list of intangibles goes on and on. I’d argue, though, that inextricably linked to Voice is a sense of vibrancy and vitality in our writing, a zing that has everything to do with being truly engaged with what we’re working on. We’ve all read books or watched movies that charmed us despite the many Craft goofs therein, and we’ve all encountered works that were technically perfect and as lifeless as the moon.
I raise this point, because sometimes, in an attempt to be more successful (however we’re defining it), we kid ourselves into trying on some facet of writing that is not really “us.” Or maybe we do the reverse—aware that it has no resonance for us whatsoever, we don’t leap on the latest hot commercial trend in publishing, and we feel guilty and anxious about it. At these times we need to remember that what our readers (including editors and agents) are hungry for is the piquant, chewy goodness that only we can provide. But we can only bring the zing when we’re truly excited about the story that we’re telling.
And in the end, it’s all about the zing.
Lucy Marsden is a romance writer living in New England. When she’s not backstage at a magic show or crashing a physics picnic, she can be found knee-deep in the occult collection of some old library, or arguing hotly about Story.
As usual, I’ve been finding the posts of my compatriots here at FTWA both thought-provoking and timely. In particular, I’ve been musing on RC’s post about Balancing on the Edge of Your Comfort Zone, and Jemi’s discussion of Writing What You Read.
What I heard both of them saying is this: stretch yourself, and play with different aspects of writing if they call to you and they enhance your process, but don’t sacrifice your authenticity or your integrity as a writer. (And by integrity, I’m talking less about morality, and more about “the state of being whole and undivided.”)
What I think it comes down to, is that we risk diluting, confusing, or really alienating our Voice as writers when we push ourselves to create in ways that aren’t true to us. Voice is ... well, Voice is a lot of things. I think of it as the absolutely unique flavor of our writing. Some of it is world view, and some of it is word choice and cadence, and some of it is our take on the story we’re telling—the list of intangibles goes on and on. I’d argue, though, that inextricably linked to Voice is a sense of vibrancy and vitality in our writing, a zing that has everything to do with being truly engaged with what we’re working on. We’ve all read books or watched movies that charmed us despite the many Craft goofs therein, and we’ve all encountered works that were technically perfect and as lifeless as the moon.
I raise this point, because sometimes, in an attempt to be more successful (however we’re defining it), we kid ourselves into trying on some facet of writing that is not really “us.” Or maybe we do the reverse—aware that it has no resonance for us whatsoever, we don’t leap on the latest hot commercial trend in publishing, and we feel guilty and anxious about it. At these times we need to remember that what our readers (including editors and agents) are hungry for is the piquant, chewy goodness that only we can provide. But we can only bring the zing when we’re truly excited about the story that we’re telling.
And in the end, it’s all about the zing.
Lucy Marsden is a romance writer living in New England. When she’s not backstage at a magic show or crashing a physics picnic, she can be found knee-deep in the occult collection of some old library, or arguing hotly about Story.
Monday, March 5, 2012
Anchor Scenes for Story Structure
by Lucy Marsden
In my heart of hearts, I am a plotter. The problem is that, in my brain of brains, I have a sadly inconsistent grasp of story structure.
Pure pantsing, in which I attempt to write while having no idea what my characters are moving towards, leaves me floundering and paralyzed; trying to articulate every twist and turn of the story before I start to write, however, makes me break into a sweat as I contemplate the (inevitable) gaping holes in my imagination. I need an approach to story that protects me from the feeling of being in free-fall, while helping me to tolerate (and even embrace) all the stuff I don’t yet know about What Happens Next and Why.
Happily, the folks at Storywonk (AKA author Lani Diane Rich and Alastair Stephens), and author Jenny Crusie, have done a fabulous job of presenting a description of the key scenes that create the foundation of story structure. Lani and Alastair actually did a podcast on this recently, called Improvising Seven Anchor Scenes*, and Jenny has presented her take on this approach in her blog post on Argh Ink, The Basics of Fiction.
Briefly (and with none of their genius), here are the foundational scenes:
1. The Initiating Event / The Inciting Incident / Where The Trouble Begins
This is exactly what it sounds like, the event that brings the protagonist into the central story conflict.
It is amazing how long it can take me to actually nail this down. Sometimes I know very clearly what the event is, it just takes me an exasperating amount of time to actually write my way there. God only knows what I’m doing with myself in the meantime.
2. The First Turning Point / The Trouble Gets Worse
I feel like this is also Crossing The Threshold (if you’re familiar with the mythic structure Vogler talks about in The Writer’s Journey). It’s the point where the protagonist has to commit to dealing with whatever the trouble is, because the stakes have just increased, and Business As Usual isn’t going to cut it.
3. The Midpoint / The Point of No Return / The Reversal of Fortune
This is a big moment for plot AND character. It’s the point at which major discoveries are made that change the game that the characters are playing, and it’s the point at which the characters have changed so much that they can’t go back to the way they were before.
This is the point in my current WIP where the hero discovers that his parents’ accidental deaths were actually murders. I knew that from the very beginning, of course, but it took me a while to understand why I should have my hero arrive at that conclusion at this particular point in the story.
4. The Crisis / The Dark Moment/ All Is Lost
At this point, the protagonists are defeated; they don’t yet possess the knowledge / abilities / head space necessary to defeat the Antagonist, and it seems clear that a Happily Ever After with the love of their life is a complete impossibility.
Unbelievably, this bit is really vague for me right now; I think it’s because I haven’t spent a lot of time with my Antagonist, yet, and so I don’t know exactly how he’s going to be pushing back against my hero’s attempts to uncover the murder of his parents. I have a sense of how my hero’s going to back away from my heroine as a result of the threat posed by the Antagonist, but that’s about it.
5. The Climax / The Final Push
Defeated though the protagonist is at the Crisis, they can’t give up. They are forced to finally integrate the abilities/ self-knowledge / growth they’ve been developing throughout the story, and because they do this, they have what they need to finally defeat the Antagonist.
Thankfully, this point isn’t a total fog for me; I know what the heroine’s relationship with the hero is going to provide for him that will turn out to be pivotal in the final showdown, and I know what the heroine’s arc will be contributing to this scene, so I’m OK with discovering the rest.
6. The Resolution / The Happily Ever After / The New World
The protagonist’s world has changed for the better, and so have they. They’ve grown, and are more authentically themselves than they were at the beginning of the story.
Again, I’ve got at least a general sense of what this will look like, and am happy to fill in the details when I get there, especially since I’ll get hints of this as I continue to move through the book.
(* I can only think of 6 scenes to Lani’s 7; if anyone wants to jump into the Comments section and remind me which bit I’m forgetting, please be my guest! And definitely take a minute to check out Storywonk. Lani and Alastair are two of the smartest, most passionate, most articulate, and most enjoyable writing geeks I have ever encountered, and their podcasts alone are phenomenal.)
What kind of story structure (if any) works best for you? What’s your preferred ratio of Plotting to Discovery?
Lucy Marsden is a romance writer living in New England. When she’s not backstage at a magic show or crashing a physics picnic, she can be found knee-deep in the occult collection of some old library, or arguing hotly about Story.
In my heart of hearts, I am a plotter. The problem is that, in my brain of brains, I have a sadly inconsistent grasp of story structure.
Pure pantsing, in which I attempt to write while having no idea what my characters are moving towards, leaves me floundering and paralyzed; trying to articulate every twist and turn of the story before I start to write, however, makes me break into a sweat as I contemplate the (inevitable) gaping holes in my imagination. I need an approach to story that protects me from the feeling of being in free-fall, while helping me to tolerate (and even embrace) all the stuff I don’t yet know about What Happens Next and Why.
Happily, the folks at Storywonk (AKA author Lani Diane Rich and Alastair Stephens), and author Jenny Crusie, have done a fabulous job of presenting a description of the key scenes that create the foundation of story structure. Lani and Alastair actually did a podcast on this recently, called Improvising Seven Anchor Scenes*, and Jenny has presented her take on this approach in her blog post on Argh Ink, The Basics of Fiction.
Briefly (and with none of their genius), here are the foundational scenes:
1. The Initiating Event / The Inciting Incident / Where The Trouble Begins
This is exactly what it sounds like, the event that brings the protagonist into the central story conflict.
It is amazing how long it can take me to actually nail this down. Sometimes I know very clearly what the event is, it just takes me an exasperating amount of time to actually write my way there. God only knows what I’m doing with myself in the meantime.
2. The First Turning Point / The Trouble Gets Worse
I feel like this is also Crossing The Threshold (if you’re familiar with the mythic structure Vogler talks about in The Writer’s Journey). It’s the point where the protagonist has to commit to dealing with whatever the trouble is, because the stakes have just increased, and Business As Usual isn’t going to cut it.
3. The Midpoint / The Point of No Return / The Reversal of Fortune
This is a big moment for plot AND character. It’s the point at which major discoveries are made that change the game that the characters are playing, and it’s the point at which the characters have changed so much that they can’t go back to the way they were before.
This is the point in my current WIP where the hero discovers that his parents’ accidental deaths were actually murders. I knew that from the very beginning, of course, but it took me a while to understand why I should have my hero arrive at that conclusion at this particular point in the story.
4. The Crisis / The Dark Moment/ All Is Lost
At this point, the protagonists are defeated; they don’t yet possess the knowledge / abilities / head space necessary to defeat the Antagonist, and it seems clear that a Happily Ever After with the love of their life is a complete impossibility.
Unbelievably, this bit is really vague for me right now; I think it’s because I haven’t spent a lot of time with my Antagonist, yet, and so I don’t know exactly how he’s going to be pushing back against my hero’s attempts to uncover the murder of his parents. I have a sense of how my hero’s going to back away from my heroine as a result of the threat posed by the Antagonist, but that’s about it.
5. The Climax / The Final Push
Defeated though the protagonist is at the Crisis, they can’t give up. They are forced to finally integrate the abilities/ self-knowledge / growth they’ve been developing throughout the story, and because they do this, they have what they need to finally defeat the Antagonist.
Thankfully, this point isn’t a total fog for me; I know what the heroine’s relationship with the hero is going to provide for him that will turn out to be pivotal in the final showdown, and I know what the heroine’s arc will be contributing to this scene, so I’m OK with discovering the rest.
6. The Resolution / The Happily Ever After / The New World
The protagonist’s world has changed for the better, and so have they. They’ve grown, and are more authentically themselves than they were at the beginning of the story.
Again, I’ve got at least a general sense of what this will look like, and am happy to fill in the details when I get there, especially since I’ll get hints of this as I continue to move through the book.
(* I can only think of 6 scenes to Lani’s 7; if anyone wants to jump into the Comments section and remind me which bit I’m forgetting, please be my guest! And definitely take a minute to check out Storywonk. Lani and Alastair are two of the smartest, most passionate, most articulate, and most enjoyable writing geeks I have ever encountered, and their podcasts alone are phenomenal.)
What kind of story structure (if any) works best for you? What’s your preferred ratio of Plotting to Discovery?
Lucy Marsden is a romance writer living in New England. When she’s not backstage at a magic show or crashing a physics picnic, she can be found knee-deep in the occult collection of some old library, or arguing hotly about Story.
Monday, January 30, 2012
Artist Dates
by Lucy Marsden
I’m writing to you today from the Middle Ages (currently docked at a Radisson in Manchester, New Hampshire), in order to talk about artist dates.
Artist dates are not, as you might suppose, episodic romantic forays with attractive specimens of the aesthetically and spatially-gifted population (although there’s nothing to rule this out, either, and best wishes to you on that front, say I). Rather, artist dates are field trips taken with the express (or professed) purpose of engaging and stimulating our imaginations, our creativity, our sense of wonder, and our sensory experience in general. It’s a way to fill up the well that we draw from when we build worlds, and it’s a place from which fresh ideas—and even characters—can emerge, ready to captivate and populate our work.
The date you go on doesn’t have to directly apply to your current work-in-progress; in fact, it can be more fun if the field trip seems to be purely tangential. My current story is set in a faery-tale version of 18th-century France, so the temporal and aesthetic “vibe” of this weekend’s date wasn’t particularly helpful. But as I wandered the merchant area dressed as a 10th-century Viking lass in a linen shift, cotton tunic, and wool apron made with my own fair hands (and a Brother CP 7500 computerized sewing machine, praise Jah), lifting my skirts so that I wouldn’t trip (because transport me to whatever century you please, I am still a klutz), and debating the relative merits of wool versus linen for camping in a 14th-century kirtle (NOT wool—Sweet Jesu, I was DYING in that apron after two hours), I amassed a whole host of tactile and visual impressions still relevant to living in a culture where female dress is more traditional, synthetic fibers are unknown, and nothing is mass-produced.
Another textile-related adventure once took me to a huge warehouse specializing in home-decor fabrics. This was the place to soak up 18th-century rococo with a vengeance: silks and velvets and brocades everywhere I turned, juxtaposed with rack upon rack of tassels and trims. One fabric literally made me stop in in my tracks, not because it was baroque, but because it was this rich, vibrant pattern of embroidered green vines with scarlet flowers against a background of shimmering blue. A coverlet of that fabric would be like sleeping wrapped in all the enticement and enchantment of a faery tale, and it was only because Cali kept repeating in my ear, “It’s one hundred dollars a yard,” that I was able to tear myself away. I still long for that fabric.
And as a final example, let me suggest an outing to your local museum. One of the most thought-provoking presentations on paranormal world-building I’ve ever heard was given at a Romance Writers of America conference by Shannon Delany, who was talking about getting ahead of the curve on genre trends, and taking new approaches to familiar legends and characters. She discussed many great approaches, but the one that stuck with me was the suggestion of spending time looking at historical and mythological scenes in fine art. Delany proposed taking the opportunity to imagine what’s going on behind the scene that’s being depicted, or just out of the viewer’s line of sight, or what’s simmering in the subtext of the scene, then using this as a jumping-off point for characters and stories. That idea would never have occurred to me in a million years, but now that the seed’s been planted, I’m busily planning my next outing to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston (maybe with a little Isabella Stewart Gardner on the side).
So what about you? What kind of field trips do you take to refill the well of your imagination? What kind of sensory or creative treasures have you brought back?
And wherever and whenever you go in your adventuring, I wish you many moments of pleasure and inspiration!
I’m writing to you today from the Middle Ages (currently docked at a Radisson in Manchester, New Hampshire), in order to talk about artist dates.
Artist dates are not, as you might suppose, episodic romantic forays with attractive specimens of the aesthetically and spatially-gifted population (although there’s nothing to rule this out, either, and best wishes to you on that front, say I). Rather, artist dates are field trips taken with the express (or professed) purpose of engaging and stimulating our imaginations, our creativity, our sense of wonder, and our sensory experience in general. It’s a way to fill up the well that we draw from when we build worlds, and it’s a place from which fresh ideas—and even characters—can emerge, ready to captivate and populate our work.
The date you go on doesn’t have to directly apply to your current work-in-progress; in fact, it can be more fun if the field trip seems to be purely tangential. My current story is set in a faery-tale version of 18th-century France, so the temporal and aesthetic “vibe” of this weekend’s date wasn’t particularly helpful. But as I wandered the merchant area dressed as a 10th-century Viking lass in a linen shift, cotton tunic, and wool apron made with my own fair hands (and a Brother CP 7500 computerized sewing machine, praise Jah), lifting my skirts so that I wouldn’t trip (because transport me to whatever century you please, I am still a klutz), and debating the relative merits of wool versus linen for camping in a 14th-century kirtle (NOT wool—Sweet Jesu, I was DYING in that apron after two hours), I amassed a whole host of tactile and visual impressions still relevant to living in a culture where female dress is more traditional, synthetic fibers are unknown, and nothing is mass-produced.
Another textile-related adventure once took me to a huge warehouse specializing in home-decor fabrics. This was the place to soak up 18th-century rococo with a vengeance: silks and velvets and brocades everywhere I turned, juxtaposed with rack upon rack of tassels and trims. One fabric literally made me stop in in my tracks, not because it was baroque, but because it was this rich, vibrant pattern of embroidered green vines with scarlet flowers against a background of shimmering blue. A coverlet of that fabric would be like sleeping wrapped in all the enticement and enchantment of a faery tale, and it was only because Cali kept repeating in my ear, “It’s one hundred dollars a yard,” that I was able to tear myself away. I still long for that fabric.
And as a final example, let me suggest an outing to your local museum. One of the most thought-provoking presentations on paranormal world-building I’ve ever heard was given at a Romance Writers of America conference by Shannon Delany, who was talking about getting ahead of the curve on genre trends, and taking new approaches to familiar legends and characters. She discussed many great approaches, but the one that stuck with me was the suggestion of spending time looking at historical and mythological scenes in fine art. Delany proposed taking the opportunity to imagine what’s going on behind the scene that’s being depicted, or just out of the viewer’s line of sight, or what’s simmering in the subtext of the scene, then using this as a jumping-off point for characters and stories. That idea would never have occurred to me in a million years, but now that the seed’s been planted, I’m busily planning my next outing to the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston (maybe with a little Isabella Stewart Gardner on the side).
So what about you? What kind of field trips do you take to refill the well of your imagination? What kind of sensory or creative treasures have you brought back?
And wherever and whenever you go in your adventuring, I wish you many moments of pleasure and inspiration!
Monday, October 17, 2011
"Getting Over" My Genre
by Lucy Marsden
I’ve just finished Smart Bitch Sarah Wendell’s latest book, Everything I Know About Love I Learned from Romance Novels.
It’s not my intention to review the book here, but suffice it to say that it puts paid to the implicitly patronizing and slightly hysterical recent claims that romance readers are unable to distinguish between fantasy and reality in their personal relationships. With chapters like “We Know More Than a Few Good Men,” and “We Know That Happily-Ever-After Takes Work,” it’s an intelligent, hilarious, and uplifting testimony to the very real ways in which the genre helps its readers articulate and celebrate strong, loving relationships.
One of my favorite things in the book (and the point of this blog post, which I swear I am getting to any minute now), was author Robyn Carr’s quote when she was asked to comment on what people learn from reading romances:
“I think the antithesis of the question is more important—what do we learn from romance novels that we shouldn’t get over?”
And I thought to myself, “How fabulous is that?” Because for every genre out there, there is a way in which it says or celebrates something uniquely important about the human experience; a reason why it draws readers and writers that goes far beyond a need for escape and entertainment. Yet to greater or lesser degrees, most genre writers and readers have encountered criticism for their genre-love:
“You’re so smart. How can you read those trashy space-operas?”
or
“Do you think you might ever write a real book?”
And much, much worse.
So here and now, tell me what you love about writing or reading your favorite genre. Tell me what your genre says about being human that’s so important, the things that you wish people knew about how awesome it is, the ways in which it colors your world-view that you wouldn’t “get over,” even if you could.
Believe me, you’ll be in good company!
I’ve just finished Smart Bitch Sarah Wendell’s latest book, Everything I Know About Love I Learned from Romance Novels.
It’s not my intention to review the book here, but suffice it to say that it puts paid to the implicitly patronizing and slightly hysterical recent claims that romance readers are unable to distinguish between fantasy and reality in their personal relationships. With chapters like “We Know More Than a Few Good Men,” and “We Know That Happily-Ever-After Takes Work,” it’s an intelligent, hilarious, and uplifting testimony to the very real ways in which the genre helps its readers articulate and celebrate strong, loving relationships.
One of my favorite things in the book (and the point of this blog post, which I swear I am getting to any minute now), was author Robyn Carr’s quote when she was asked to comment on what people learn from reading romances:
“I think the antithesis of the question is more important—what do we learn from romance novels that we shouldn’t get over?”
And I thought to myself, “How fabulous is that?” Because for every genre out there, there is a way in which it says or celebrates something uniquely important about the human experience; a reason why it draws readers and writers that goes far beyond a need for escape and entertainment. Yet to greater or lesser degrees, most genre writers and readers have encountered criticism for their genre-love:
“You’re so smart. How can you read those trashy space-operas?”
or
“Do you think you might ever write a real book?”
And much, much worse.
So here and now, tell me what you love about writing or reading your favorite genre. Tell me what your genre says about being human that’s so important, the things that you wish people knew about how awesome it is, the ways in which it colors your world-view that you wouldn’t “get over,” even if you could.
Believe me, you’ll be in good company!
Friday, September 9, 2011
“Going FREE” on Amazon: Insane, Inspired Marketing From The Frontier of Self-Publishing
by Lucy Marsden
Note from Lucy:
Hi, Folks—
Today, rather than geeking-out about some aspect of craft or genre, I thought I’d shamelessly capitalize on the recent success of friend and fellow writer, Ruth Cardello. Since the release of her second self-published romance FOR LOVE OR LEGACY two weeks ago, Ruthie’s sales have been phenomenal—a circumstance that she ascribes, in part, to her decision to give away her first novel, MAID FOR THE BILLIONAIRE, for free.
Lots of authors on Amazon are giving away short stories and prequels, but the decision to make a first book free is still considered radical. Here’s Ruth herself, to answer questions about what going free with the first book seems to have done for her and other self-published authors:
Free? Are those authors crazy?
Yes, crazy smart.
Giving your first book away is the most powerful promotional tool you have to get your book into the hands of hundreds of thousands of new readers. People like FREE. The new generation of readers has an almost limitless selection of books to choose from. Plenty of good books get lost in the shuffle. To be read, your book will have to be “found.”
But, Ruth, I’m going to use coupons and strategically give them to romance groups as an incentive for people to read my book.
Coupons are wonderful, but how many are you going to give out? Twenty? Two hundred? A thousand? In the four months that MAID FOR THE BILLIONAIRE has been free on Amazon, about 200,000 people have downloaded it. Let’s be conservative and say that one fourth of those people liked it and will purchase book 2—that’s 50,000 people.
FREE made MAID FOR THE BILLIONAIRE visible. Four months after publication, it remains in the top 10 in the Contemporary Romance Amazon ranking. It’s still in the top 10 on iTunes. How much would you pay for this kind of visibility? Eight-hundred to one thousand people download the first book in my series every day. Let me repeat that, because if you’re still wondering if putting your book up for free is worth it, then you need to consider how my reading base is expanding every day from this one single promotion strategy: Eight hundred to one thousand new readers every day.
Do they all love me? No. Will they all return to buy book two? Hell, no. But if only a fraction do, I’m still making $300—$500 a day on the sale of my second book. Every day.
How long are you going to leave MAID FOR THE BILLIONAIRE up for FREE?
It’s up for the foreseeable future. For now, there is no reason for me to charge for it, since it continues to bring new readers to my other book.
I hear you, Ruth, but won’t putting my book up for 99 cents deliver the same impact?
My numbers suggest otherwise.
Four months ago, before I put the book up for FREE, I was selling one hundred books a day at 35% ($35/day sales). I was pretty happy with those numbers, and was a little nervous when MAID finally did go FREE. Some of that reticence dissipated, however, when almost instantly, 35,000 people downloaded it. I just released my second book in the series, FOR LOVE OR LEGACY, and it’s shot up the ranks with high sales. In fact, it’s only been on sale for slightly over two weeks, and I’ve already made about $7,000.
But…but…but
You might be right; this approach might not be for you. It’s only one of many promotional strategies that self-pubbed authors are experimenting with, and the bottom line is that if you want to make it in what has become the Wild Wild West of publishing, you need to keep yourself informed. That doesn’t mean that you have to follow my formula (which isn’t even mine ... it was already being discussed by various authors on blogs), but it does mean that you need to aggressively seek out what people are doing, and compare their results. The market is changing at a remarkable speed. Today’s best advice might not be relevant next month. That’s why writers should network and share. We can all benefit from helping each other out. We need to stay informed.
So, what happens if that well dries up and Amazon doesn’t match Smashword’s free pricing anymore?
It’s already getting harder to go FREE on Amazon, and the option may not be there in the future. For now, the gamble is paying off for some new authors. It’s a strategy that is still worth considering.
What do you think the next big promotional trend might be?
I don’t know; but if you find out first, email me at Minouri@aol.com, and we’ll call it even.
Note from Lucy:
Hi, Folks—
Today, rather than geeking-out about some aspect of craft or genre, I thought I’d shamelessly capitalize on the recent success of friend and fellow writer, Ruth Cardello. Since the release of her second self-published romance FOR LOVE OR LEGACY two weeks ago, Ruthie’s sales have been phenomenal—a circumstance that she ascribes, in part, to her decision to give away her first novel, MAID FOR THE BILLIONAIRE, for free.
Lots of authors on Amazon are giving away short stories and prequels, but the decision to make a first book free is still considered radical. Here’s Ruth herself, to answer questions about what going free with the first book seems to have done for her and other self-published authors:
Free? Are those authors crazy?
Yes, crazy smart.
Giving your first book away is the most powerful promotional tool you have to get your book into the hands of hundreds of thousands of new readers. People like FREE. The new generation of readers has an almost limitless selection of books to choose from. Plenty of good books get lost in the shuffle. To be read, your book will have to be “found.”
But, Ruth, I’m going to use coupons and strategically give them to romance groups as an incentive for people to read my book.
Coupons are wonderful, but how many are you going to give out? Twenty? Two hundred? A thousand? In the four months that MAID FOR THE BILLIONAIRE has been free on Amazon, about 200,000 people have downloaded it. Let’s be conservative and say that one fourth of those people liked it and will purchase book 2—that’s 50,000 people.
FREE made MAID FOR THE BILLIONAIRE visible. Four months after publication, it remains in the top 10 in the Contemporary Romance Amazon ranking. It’s still in the top 10 on iTunes. How much would you pay for this kind of visibility? Eight-hundred to one thousand people download the first book in my series every day. Let me repeat that, because if you’re still wondering if putting your book up for free is worth it, then you need to consider how my reading base is expanding every day from this one single promotion strategy: Eight hundred to one thousand new readers every day.
Do they all love me? No. Will they all return to buy book two? Hell, no. But if only a fraction do, I’m still making $300—$500 a day on the sale of my second book. Every day.
How long are you going to leave MAID FOR THE BILLIONAIRE up for FREE?
It’s up for the foreseeable future. For now, there is no reason for me to charge for it, since it continues to bring new readers to my other book.
I hear you, Ruth, but won’t putting my book up for 99 cents deliver the same impact?
My numbers suggest otherwise.
Four months ago, before I put the book up for FREE, I was selling one hundred books a day at 35% ($35/day sales). I was pretty happy with those numbers, and was a little nervous when MAID finally did go FREE. Some of that reticence dissipated, however, when almost instantly, 35,000 people downloaded it. I just released my second book in the series, FOR LOVE OR LEGACY, and it’s shot up the ranks with high sales. In fact, it’s only been on sale for slightly over two weeks, and I’ve already made about $7,000.
But…but…but
You might be right; this approach might not be for you. It’s only one of many promotional strategies that self-pubbed authors are experimenting with, and the bottom line is that if you want to make it in what has become the Wild Wild West of publishing, you need to keep yourself informed. That doesn’t mean that you have to follow my formula (which isn’t even mine ... it was already being discussed by various authors on blogs), but it does mean that you need to aggressively seek out what people are doing, and compare their results. The market is changing at a remarkable speed. Today’s best advice might not be relevant next month. That’s why writers should network and share. We can all benefit from helping each other out. We need to stay informed.
So, what happens if that well dries up and Amazon doesn’t match Smashword’s free pricing anymore?
It’s already getting harder to go FREE on Amazon, and the option may not be there in the future. For now, the gamble is paying off for some new authors. It’s a strategy that is still worth considering.
What do you think the next big promotional trend might be?
I don’t know; but if you find out first, email me at Minouri@aol.com, and we’ll call it even.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
Blurbing, Part Two
Welcome back!
To recap, the first post on blurbing was basically a presentation of the 10 story elements that contribute to a blurb (courtesy of former romance author Suzanne McMinn.)
The Hook
The Conflict
The Hint of Emotion
The Touch of Danger
Characterization
Setting
Goals
Motivation
Who/What is Stopping Them?
Will They Overcome?
Once we’ve nailed these 10 points, our next step is to pull from them to create a blurb. At this juncture, it’s really helpful to look at the structure (and length) of blurbs for best-selling or favorite books in our chosen genres. In Romance, for example, it’s typical to have a 3-paragraph structure:
First paragraph for the lover who the story “belongs” to. You can have equal POV time between the lovers, but a story often (not always!) belongs to one more than the other--usually the MC who we meet first. The paragraph should highlight this MC’s goal, motivation, and conflicts.
Second paragraph to the other lover, again focusing on their goal, motivation, and conflicts.
Third paragraph focusing on their shared romantic arc in the face of whatever the central story conflict is.
Other genres, stories with only one protagonist, or stories told in first person are likely to have a very different structure, so study the variety of blurbs being used for books like yours. Look at new releases for clues about the story elements which have proven eye-catching in the current publishing market. Look also for presentations of stories whose “vibe/ tone” feels similar to yours, or those which seem to be telling the same type of story: road trip, secret baby, Chosen One, fantasy quest, etc. Don’t be discouraged if your first attempt exceeds the 100-word limit. More concise is better, but the most important thing is nailing these elements down. You’ll get more fabulous at honing them as you go along, and some books may need more words in order to cover aspects of world-building or plot, anyway.
A last word of advice before we move on: Definitely do this exercise with another writer or group of writers, when possible. As the author of the story, we can often be too close to the plot or characters to do justice to articulating some of these meta elements, and having other people brainstorm with us/ for us can be amazingly illuminating. It also tends to be a blast.
Now for an actual example. I recently finished Kristina Douglas’s 2011 paranormal romance, The Fallen: Demon, and thought I’d break down the story elements, then show how they were combined in Demon’s back-cover blurb. Here we go:
STORY ELEMENT
The Hook
A grieving fallen angel must find the legendary siren meant to take his lost lover’s place...and kill her.
An angel falls in love with a demon.
The Conflict
ANGELS AND DEMON’S DON’T MIX.
Azazel is forced to betray the memory of his beloved wife with a demon who has been his enemy for centuries. If he refuses, the archangel Uriel will destroy all of mankind.
Azazel struggles to deny his unlikely new bond with Rachel, a bond he’s also going to be forced to betray if he wants to defeat Uriel.
Rachel doesn’t remember her past life as the seductress Lilith, and Azazel’s animosity towards her is at odds with the overwhelming sexual hunger they experience with each other. When Azazel chooses to offer her up for torture at Uriel’s hands, Rachel must struggle to forgive the unforgivable.
The archangel Uriel is bent on destroying the Fallen and their mates, preventing any possibility of resurrecting Lucifer, the only fallen angel who could ever challenge his control of creation. If Uriel can trick Azazel into betraying Rachel to her death, the prophecy of Lucifer’s resurrection will never come to pass.
The Hint of Emotion
true love, desire, grief, carnality, danger, deadly wrath
The Touch of Danger
Azazel’s threat to Rachel’s life and heart; the threat of Uriel’s wrath; the threat to Azazel's self-control
Characterization
Azazel: fearless, grieving ruler; “a devil of an angel”
Rachel: legendary siren; “an angel of a demon”
Uriel: wrathful destroyer
Setting
Sheol, the hidden refuge of the Fallen angels and their mates. Uriel’s Dark City. Australia.
Goals
Azazel’s goal is to capture Rachel, and surrender her for information critical to Lucifer’s rescue.
Rachel’s goal is to survive her encounter with Azazel without surrendering her heart or her life.
Uriel’s goal is to trick Azazel into giving Rachel up to torture and death.
Motivation
Azazel is motivated by his duty to the Fallen and to mankind, and an unwillingness to acknowledge the attraction and the love that he feels for his former enemy.
Rachel is motivated by fear and necessity, and a desire to believe that she can transcend the horrors of her servitude as a demon.
Uriel is motivated by absolute confidence in the rightness of his dominance over Creation, as well as an all-encompassing belief in the innate sinfulness of Creation in general, and the Fallen in particular.
Who/ what is stopping them?
Azazel’s grief and anger interfere with his relationship with Rachel.
Rachel’s amnesia, and her distrust of Azazel interfere with her acceptance of her role in defeating Uriel.
Uriel is bent on Rachel’s death and Azazel’s demoralization; he hopes to destroy their love and prevent the prophecy from coming to pass.
Will They Overcome?
Can Azazel and Rachel overcome grief and betrayal to defeat Uriel and preserve the safety of the Fallen and their mates?
*Note: If some of these elements seem to echo or re-state each other that’s OK. Having different ways to look at or say the same thing is helpful when you’re brainstorming.
OK, here’s the actual back-cover blurb for Demon:
Once the Fallen’s fearless ruler, a grieving Azazel must find the legendary siren meant to take his lost lover’s place...and kill her.
HE’S A DEVIL OF AN ANGEL.
Azazel should have extinguished the deadly Lilith when he had the chance. Now, faced with a prophecy that will force him to betray the memory of his one true love and wed the Demon Queen, he cannot end her life until she leads him to Lucifer. Finding the First is the Fallen’s only hope for protecting mankind from Uriel’s destruction, but Azazel knows that ignoring his simmering desire for the Lilith will be almost as impossible.
SHE’S AN ANGEL OF A DEMON
Rachel Fitzpatrick wonders how Azazel could confuse her with an evil seductress. She’s never even been interested in sex! At least not before she set eyes on her breathtaking captor. And now she can’t think about anything else--besides escape.
ANGELS AND DEMONS DON’T MIX.
Rachel stirs a carnal need in Azazel that he never thought he’d feel again. Falling for a demon--even if she has no idea she’s the Lilith--means surrendering his very soul. But if he lets her go, he risks abandoning his heart, his dangerous lover, and possibly all of humanity, to Uriel’s deadly wrath.
Aaaand now we’re back.
Note how succinct the hook of Demon is, and how explicitly it’s stated. This is very much Azazel’s story, so it’s his conflict that is front and center. Note, too, that setting isn’t really mentioned; the main characters don’t interact much with their surroundings, because almost everything is about what is happening between Azazel and Rachel. The final paragraph, which is usually about the shared arc of the lovers, underscores the fact that the highest emotional stakes in the book belong to Azazel. Douglas (who also writes as Anne Stuart) tends to write hero-focused romances, so the set up of this blurb is definitely true to the feel of the book.
So what do you think about the back-cover copy for Demon? The art of the blurb is about articulating the emotional ingredients of your story, and combining them in such a way that they give the truest taste of your book--a taste the reader can’t resist. How well did this blurb succeed, in your opinion?
And what do you think you’ll take away from this for the story you’re currently working on? This blurbing exercise is MUCH more dynamic when you’re putting together back-cover copy from scratch, and I’d love to hear what people discover about articulating and honing these emotional story elements. Please share!
To recap, the first post on blurbing was basically a presentation of the 10 story elements that contribute to a blurb (courtesy of former romance author Suzanne McMinn.)
The Hook
The Conflict
The Hint of Emotion
The Touch of Danger
Characterization
Setting
Goals
Motivation
Who/What is Stopping Them?
Will They Overcome?
Once we’ve nailed these 10 points, our next step is to pull from them to create a blurb. At this juncture, it’s really helpful to look at the structure (and length) of blurbs for best-selling or favorite books in our chosen genres. In Romance, for example, it’s typical to have a 3-paragraph structure:
First paragraph for the lover who the story “belongs” to. You can have equal POV time between the lovers, but a story often (not always!) belongs to one more than the other--usually the MC who we meet first. The paragraph should highlight this MC’s goal, motivation, and conflicts.
Second paragraph to the other lover, again focusing on their goal, motivation, and conflicts.
Third paragraph focusing on their shared romantic arc in the face of whatever the central story conflict is.
Other genres, stories with only one protagonist, or stories told in first person are likely to have a very different structure, so study the variety of blurbs being used for books like yours. Look at new releases for clues about the story elements which have proven eye-catching in the current publishing market. Look also for presentations of stories whose “vibe/ tone” feels similar to yours, or those which seem to be telling the same type of story: road trip, secret baby, Chosen One, fantasy quest, etc. Don’t be discouraged if your first attempt exceeds the 100-word limit. More concise is better, but the most important thing is nailing these elements down. You’ll get more fabulous at honing them as you go along, and some books may need more words in order to cover aspects of world-building or plot, anyway.
A last word of advice before we move on: Definitely do this exercise with another writer or group of writers, when possible. As the author of the story, we can often be too close to the plot or characters to do justice to articulating some of these meta elements, and having other people brainstorm with us/ for us can be amazingly illuminating. It also tends to be a blast.
Now for an actual example. I recently finished Kristina Douglas’s 2011 paranormal romance, The Fallen: Demon, and thought I’d break down the story elements, then show how they were combined in Demon’s back-cover blurb. Here we go:
STORY ELEMENT
The Hook
A grieving fallen angel must find the legendary siren meant to take his lost lover’s place...and kill her.
An angel falls in love with a demon.
The Conflict
ANGELS AND DEMON’S DON’T MIX.
Azazel is forced to betray the memory of his beloved wife with a demon who has been his enemy for centuries. If he refuses, the archangel Uriel will destroy all of mankind.
Azazel struggles to deny his unlikely new bond with Rachel, a bond he’s also going to be forced to betray if he wants to defeat Uriel.
Rachel doesn’t remember her past life as the seductress Lilith, and Azazel’s animosity towards her is at odds with the overwhelming sexual hunger they experience with each other. When Azazel chooses to offer her up for torture at Uriel’s hands, Rachel must struggle to forgive the unforgivable.
The archangel Uriel is bent on destroying the Fallen and their mates, preventing any possibility of resurrecting Lucifer, the only fallen angel who could ever challenge his control of creation. If Uriel can trick Azazel into betraying Rachel to her death, the prophecy of Lucifer’s resurrection will never come to pass.
The Hint of Emotion
true love, desire, grief, carnality, danger, deadly wrath
The Touch of Danger
Azazel’s threat to Rachel’s life and heart; the threat of Uriel’s wrath; the threat to Azazel's self-control
Characterization
Azazel: fearless, grieving ruler; “a devil of an angel”
Rachel: legendary siren; “an angel of a demon”
Uriel: wrathful destroyer
Setting
Sheol, the hidden refuge of the Fallen angels and their mates. Uriel’s Dark City. Australia.
Goals
Azazel’s goal is to capture Rachel, and surrender her for information critical to Lucifer’s rescue.
Rachel’s goal is to survive her encounter with Azazel without surrendering her heart or her life.
Uriel’s goal is to trick Azazel into giving Rachel up to torture and death.
Motivation
Azazel is motivated by his duty to the Fallen and to mankind, and an unwillingness to acknowledge the attraction and the love that he feels for his former enemy.
Rachel is motivated by fear and necessity, and a desire to believe that she can transcend the horrors of her servitude as a demon.
Uriel is motivated by absolute confidence in the rightness of his dominance over Creation, as well as an all-encompassing belief in the innate sinfulness of Creation in general, and the Fallen in particular.
Who/ what is stopping them?
Azazel’s grief and anger interfere with his relationship with Rachel.
Rachel’s amnesia, and her distrust of Azazel interfere with her acceptance of her role in defeating Uriel.
Uriel is bent on Rachel’s death and Azazel’s demoralization; he hopes to destroy their love and prevent the prophecy from coming to pass.
Will They Overcome?
Can Azazel and Rachel overcome grief and betrayal to defeat Uriel and preserve the safety of the Fallen and their mates?
*Note: If some of these elements seem to echo or re-state each other that’s OK. Having different ways to look at or say the same thing is helpful when you’re brainstorming.
OK, here’s the actual back-cover blurb for Demon:
Once the Fallen’s fearless ruler, a grieving Azazel must find the legendary siren meant to take his lost lover’s place...and kill her.
HE’S A DEVIL OF AN ANGEL.
Azazel should have extinguished the deadly Lilith when he had the chance. Now, faced with a prophecy that will force him to betray the memory of his one true love and wed the Demon Queen, he cannot end her life until she leads him to Lucifer. Finding the First is the Fallen’s only hope for protecting mankind from Uriel’s destruction, but Azazel knows that ignoring his simmering desire for the Lilith will be almost as impossible.
SHE’S AN ANGEL OF A DEMON
Rachel Fitzpatrick wonders how Azazel could confuse her with an evil seductress. She’s never even been interested in sex! At least not before she set eyes on her breathtaking captor. And now she can’t think about anything else--besides escape.
ANGELS AND DEMONS DON’T MIX.
Rachel stirs a carnal need in Azazel that he never thought he’d feel again. Falling for a demon--even if she has no idea she’s the Lilith--means surrendering his very soul. But if he lets her go, he risks abandoning his heart, his dangerous lover, and possibly all of humanity, to Uriel’s deadly wrath.
Aaaand now we’re back.
Note how succinct the hook of Demon is, and how explicitly it’s stated. This is very much Azazel’s story, so it’s his conflict that is front and center. Note, too, that setting isn’t really mentioned; the main characters don’t interact much with their surroundings, because almost everything is about what is happening between Azazel and Rachel. The final paragraph, which is usually about the shared arc of the lovers, underscores the fact that the highest emotional stakes in the book belong to Azazel. Douglas (who also writes as Anne Stuart) tends to write hero-focused romances, so the set up of this blurb is definitely true to the feel of the book.
So what do you think about the back-cover copy for Demon? The art of the blurb is about articulating the emotional ingredients of your story, and combining them in such a way that they give the truest taste of your book--a taste the reader can’t resist. How well did this blurb succeed, in your opinion?
And what do you think you’ll take away from this for the story you’re currently working on? This blurbing exercise is MUCH more dynamic when you’re putting together back-cover copy from scratch, and I’d love to hear what people discover about articulating and honing these emotional story elements. Please share!
Friday, July 22, 2011
Writing the Back-Cover Blurb
by Lucy Marsden
Inspired by Cali’s recent post on queries, I thought it might be fun to talk about that most helpful of pre-query writing exercises: the Back-Cover Blurb.
Anyone who’s ever read the back cover of a novel knows that the blurb is the essence of the book: a 100-word (or so) distillation of the characters, tone, and conflict of the story that should, if it’s effective, entice a prospective reader into plunking down hard, cold cash in order to learn more.
Thinking about it, this is not so different from the desired outcome of a query letter, right? Certainly, it’s in keeping with the constraints of a query letter, where we’ve got two paragraphs to showcase our hook and Act I of our story. Blurbing, because it forces us to articulate the essence of our stories, also hones our our ability to share that core in a concise and compelling fashion. Blurbing demands that we have a handle on the story that we are telling, so in addition to providing us a tool with which to “sell” our story, it illuminates the elements of our story that are fuzzy, or worse, outright missing. Some folks may even use a blurb as part of their pre-writing process, to determine whether they know their story well enough to begin writing, or as part of their revision process, to double-check important story elements. Bottom line, blurbing has a lot of potential applications for writers.
So how do we do it? How do we highlight and hone the elements of our story so that we can make those high notes sing in 100 words or less? One approach, which I’ve personally test-driven with my critique partner, is to use the 10-point “Art of The Blurb” brainstorming process developed by former romance novelist Suzanne McMinn. Although Suzanne has literally moved on to greener pastures, she has graciously granted me permission to reproduce those blurbing points here. Any gaffs in the elaboration of this content are entirely mine, so remember that Your Mileage May Vary, and feel free to ignore or challenge anything that doesn’t make sense for YOUR story. Here we go:
THE 10 POINTS OF BRAINSTORMING A BLURB:
THE HOOK
These are what they sound like--story elements that immediately grab a reader’s attention. It’s great if you’ve got something unique, but a fresh twist on a beloved trope can work too. Seeking Persephone by Sarah Eden, for example, is a Regency romance that’s mixes a Marriage of Convenience plot with a Beauty and the Beast story.
THE CONFLICT
List both the external conflicts (zombie attacks, rogue asteroids, disapproving mothers-in-law) and the internal conflicts (survivor’s guilt, fear of failure, feelings of inadequacy).
THE HINT OF EMOTION
Think in terms of the emotional state of your main characters (vengeful, determined, grieving), and the emotional tone of your book (a wild ride, a joyous romp, a gritty faery-tale).
THE TOUCH OF DANGER
Something is at risk for your characters--emotionally, physically, socially, or whatever. Something important to them is endangered. This is the place to define what’s at stake for your MC if they don’t achieve their story goal, OR what is being put at risk because they are pursuing their story goal.
CHARACTERIZATION
Deb Dixon, in her fabulous book Goal, Motivation, and Conflict, gives some great tips on nailing the short-hand essence of your character. Although the descriptive phrase may use your character’s actual occupation, it’s more helpful to think in terms of their emotional “vibe” in the story. Examples Dixon uses are Princess Leia as a “royal rebel,” and Han Solo as a “cocky smuggler.” Throw out lots of descriptive phrases for your characters until you feel you’ve got a combination that sums them up perfectly. The punchier and more immediately evocative, the better.
SETTING
Define the geographic location (real or imaginary), but also the emotional tone of the setting: lush jungle, bleak moor, treacherous Fey court, sparkling Regency society.
GOALS
What concrete object or achievement are your characters pursuing in this story? What are they fighting for? Defining the characters’ story goals is a KEY aspect of creating a sense of the story stakes, which in turn, deepens the reader’s emotional investment. In Raiders of the Lost Ark, for example, Indiana Jones MUST get the Ark of the Covenant before the Nazis do.
MOTIVATION
Why MUST your character achieve their story goal? And don’t just define the concrete consequence of failure or success. Define for yourself what it will MEAN to your character to fail or succeed. In the movie Dodgeball, Peter LaFleur cares about his underdog clients; it matters to him that Average Joe’s is a place where they can feel accepted as their own goofy selves. Losing the gym means letting them down. Worse, Peter is someone who has built his life so that he will never have to deal with disappointment or failure. Losing to White Goodman of Globo Gym would mean trying and failing in a very public fashion.
WHO/WHAT IS STOPPING THEM?
Who (preferably) or what is blocking your main character from achieving their story goal? This is another way of looking at internal and external conflict, with an opportunity to focus closely on your major Antagonist.
WILL THEY OVERCOME?
Yes, I know, rhetorical questions are verboten in a query. Nevertheless, it’s important for you to be able to articulate (if only for yourself) your central story question. This is the question that summarizes the central element of tension or suspense in your story, the question that, once it has been answered “Yes” or “No” ends your story. And because you don’t HAVE to frame it as a question, you can use it in your query once you’ve articulated it for yourself. An example of a story question would be, “Will Indiana Jones save the Ark of the Covenant from the Nazis?”
OK. These 10 points are a lot to think about, I know, so I’m going to return on August 10th to talk about how to assemble these elements into a blurb. In the meantime, please weigh in with questions or comments, because blurbing is always more fun with group participation. Enjoy!
Inspired by Cali’s recent post on queries, I thought it might be fun to talk about that most helpful of pre-query writing exercises: the Back-Cover Blurb.
Anyone who’s ever read the back cover of a novel knows that the blurb is the essence of the book: a 100-word (or so) distillation of the characters, tone, and conflict of the story that should, if it’s effective, entice a prospective reader into plunking down hard, cold cash in order to learn more.
Thinking about it, this is not so different from the desired outcome of a query letter, right? Certainly, it’s in keeping with the constraints of a query letter, where we’ve got two paragraphs to showcase our hook and Act I of our story. Blurbing, because it forces us to articulate the essence of our stories, also hones our our ability to share that core in a concise and compelling fashion. Blurbing demands that we have a handle on the story that we are telling, so in addition to providing us a tool with which to “sell” our story, it illuminates the elements of our story that are fuzzy, or worse, outright missing. Some folks may even use a blurb as part of their pre-writing process, to determine whether they know their story well enough to begin writing, or as part of their revision process, to double-check important story elements. Bottom line, blurbing has a lot of potential applications for writers.
So how do we do it? How do we highlight and hone the elements of our story so that we can make those high notes sing in 100 words or less? One approach, which I’ve personally test-driven with my critique partner, is to use the 10-point “Art of The Blurb” brainstorming process developed by former romance novelist Suzanne McMinn. Although Suzanne has literally moved on to greener pastures, she has graciously granted me permission to reproduce those blurbing points here. Any gaffs in the elaboration of this content are entirely mine, so remember that Your Mileage May Vary, and feel free to ignore or challenge anything that doesn’t make sense for YOUR story. Here we go:
THE 10 POINTS OF BRAINSTORMING A BLURB:
THE HOOK
These are what they sound like--story elements that immediately grab a reader’s attention. It’s great if you’ve got something unique, but a fresh twist on a beloved trope can work too. Seeking Persephone by Sarah Eden, for example, is a Regency romance that’s mixes a Marriage of Convenience plot with a Beauty and the Beast story.
THE CONFLICT
List both the external conflicts (zombie attacks, rogue asteroids, disapproving mothers-in-law) and the internal conflicts (survivor’s guilt, fear of failure, feelings of inadequacy).
THE HINT OF EMOTION
Think in terms of the emotional state of your main characters (vengeful, determined, grieving), and the emotional tone of your book (a wild ride, a joyous romp, a gritty faery-tale).
THE TOUCH OF DANGER
Something is at risk for your characters--emotionally, physically, socially, or whatever. Something important to them is endangered. This is the place to define what’s at stake for your MC if they don’t achieve their story goal, OR what is being put at risk because they are pursuing their story goal.
CHARACTERIZATION
Deb Dixon, in her fabulous book Goal, Motivation, and Conflict, gives some great tips on nailing the short-hand essence of your character. Although the descriptive phrase may use your character’s actual occupation, it’s more helpful to think in terms of their emotional “vibe” in the story. Examples Dixon uses are Princess Leia as a “royal rebel,” and Han Solo as a “cocky smuggler.” Throw out lots of descriptive phrases for your characters until you feel you’ve got a combination that sums them up perfectly. The punchier and more immediately evocative, the better.
SETTING
Define the geographic location (real or imaginary), but also the emotional tone of the setting: lush jungle, bleak moor, treacherous Fey court, sparkling Regency society.
GOALS
What concrete object or achievement are your characters pursuing in this story? What are they fighting for? Defining the characters’ story goals is a KEY aspect of creating a sense of the story stakes, which in turn, deepens the reader’s emotional investment. In Raiders of the Lost Ark, for example, Indiana Jones MUST get the Ark of the Covenant before the Nazis do.
MOTIVATION
Why MUST your character achieve their story goal? And don’t just define the concrete consequence of failure or success. Define for yourself what it will MEAN to your character to fail or succeed. In the movie Dodgeball, Peter LaFleur cares about his underdog clients; it matters to him that Average Joe’s is a place where they can feel accepted as their own goofy selves. Losing the gym means letting them down. Worse, Peter is someone who has built his life so that he will never have to deal with disappointment or failure. Losing to White Goodman of Globo Gym would mean trying and failing in a very public fashion.
WHO/WHAT IS STOPPING THEM?
Who (preferably) or what is blocking your main character from achieving their story goal? This is another way of looking at internal and external conflict, with an opportunity to focus closely on your major Antagonist.
WILL THEY OVERCOME?
Yes, I know, rhetorical questions are verboten in a query. Nevertheless, it’s important for you to be able to articulate (if only for yourself) your central story question. This is the question that summarizes the central element of tension or suspense in your story, the question that, once it has been answered “Yes” or “No” ends your story. And because you don’t HAVE to frame it as a question, you can use it in your query once you’ve articulated it for yourself. An example of a story question would be, “Will Indiana Jones save the Ark of the Covenant from the Nazis?”
OK. These 10 points are a lot to think about, I know, so I’m going to return on August 10th to talk about how to assemble these elements into a blurb. In the meantime, please weigh in with questions or comments, because blurbing is always more fun with group participation. Enjoy!
Friday, July 1, 2011
Keeping The Flame Alive: Staying Connected to Our Stories Under Trying Circumstances
by Lucy Marsden
I should be exasperated and cranky by this point.
It’s been catch-as-catch-can with my writing over the last two weeks: sickness, work emergencies, childcare juggling, etc., and that usually means a disconnect from my characters and my story that creates huge inertia once I’m finally able to sit down and write again. Teeth-gnashing for days until I re-establish the flow of the scene I’m working on has historically been guaranteed.
But not this time. This time, I’ve been able to finagle enough ongoing connection to my WIP so that even if I’m not actively writing the way I want to be, I’m still IN my story and feel as though I’m moving forward with it. Here, in no particular order, are my sanity savers:
Story Collages
Everything I know about collaging for a WIP I learned from author Jenny Crusie. When I can’t write (for whatever reason), I can still look for images, textures, colors, lyrics, and text that “taste” like the story in my head, and that enhance my experience and understanding of it. Once the collage is made, looking at it brings me back to the world of my book.
Story Soundtracks
Certain songs are for the vibe of particular characters, others are for the feel of certain scenes. Currently, I’m listening to a playlist called “Wizards and Time Lords” featuring a lot of Murray Gold’s work from Doctor Who Season 5. So good, and again, immediately evocative of the feel of my book.
Kick-Ass Movies and TV Shows
Sometimes, even if I’m too frazzled to concentrate on my story, I can switch gears and keep my writing skills primed by looking at how other writers have handled plot, character, pacing, and dialogue. Game of Thrones has been amazing, Doctor Who Season 5 I’ve already alluded to, and I just found the first two seasons of Moonlighting at Target for $9.99 (Score!). Quite the smorgasbord, but it’s keeping me engaged and invigorated about telling stories, and that’s the main thing.
Writing Podcasts
I’ve mentioned them before, but they are so worth mentioning again. The Popcorn Dialogues and Storywonk Daily are my two favorite places to go to listen to passionate, articulate discussions about storytelling. Jenny Crusie, Lucy March, and Alastair Stephens are currently studying episodes of Burn Notice, Life, In Plain Sight, and Leverage over at Pop D as the foundation for discussions about writing community. Lucy and Alastair keep the story-love coming over at the aptly-named Storywonk site, too: world-building, genre conventions, dealing with reader responses to your work, interviews with folks like Anne Stuart and NaNoWriMo founder Chris Baty--all this and more is available. I listen in the car during my commute; it’s just one more way to pull Story into my day and stay connected.
So what about you? How do you stay connected to storytelling in general and your story in particular under less-than-auspicious circumstances?
I should be exasperated and cranky by this point.
It’s been catch-as-catch-can with my writing over the last two weeks: sickness, work emergencies, childcare juggling, etc., and that usually means a disconnect from my characters and my story that creates huge inertia once I’m finally able to sit down and write again. Teeth-gnashing for days until I re-establish the flow of the scene I’m working on has historically been guaranteed.
But not this time. This time, I’ve been able to finagle enough ongoing connection to my WIP so that even if I’m not actively writing the way I want to be, I’m still IN my story and feel as though I’m moving forward with it. Here, in no particular order, are my sanity savers:
Story Collages
Everything I know about collaging for a WIP I learned from author Jenny Crusie. When I can’t write (for whatever reason), I can still look for images, textures, colors, lyrics, and text that “taste” like the story in my head, and that enhance my experience and understanding of it. Once the collage is made, looking at it brings me back to the world of my book.
Story Soundtracks
Certain songs are for the vibe of particular characters, others are for the feel of certain scenes. Currently, I’m listening to a playlist called “Wizards and Time Lords” featuring a lot of Murray Gold’s work from Doctor Who Season 5. So good, and again, immediately evocative of the feel of my book.
Kick-Ass Movies and TV Shows
Sometimes, even if I’m too frazzled to concentrate on my story, I can switch gears and keep my writing skills primed by looking at how other writers have handled plot, character, pacing, and dialogue. Game of Thrones has been amazing, Doctor Who Season 5 I’ve already alluded to, and I just found the first two seasons of Moonlighting at Target for $9.99 (Score!). Quite the smorgasbord, but it’s keeping me engaged and invigorated about telling stories, and that’s the main thing.
Writing Podcasts
I’ve mentioned them before, but they are so worth mentioning again. The Popcorn Dialogues and Storywonk Daily are my two favorite places to go to listen to passionate, articulate discussions about storytelling. Jenny Crusie, Lucy March, and Alastair Stephens are currently studying episodes of Burn Notice, Life, In Plain Sight, and Leverage over at Pop D as the foundation for discussions about writing community. Lucy and Alastair keep the story-love coming over at the aptly-named Storywonk site, too: world-building, genre conventions, dealing with reader responses to your work, interviews with folks like Anne Stuart and NaNoWriMo founder Chris Baty--all this and more is available. I listen in the car during my commute; it’s just one more way to pull Story into my day and stay connected.
So what about you? How do you stay connected to storytelling in general and your story in particular under less-than-auspicious circumstances?
Friday, May 20, 2011
The Crucible and The Tower: Lover as Primary Antagonist in Romance Novels
by Lucy Marsden
I am a Craft geek.
I’ll even admit that in conversations with other writers, I often blow past “geek” and go straight to “pedant,” sometimes missing “nazi” by mere inches.
Therefore, it’s been interesting to observe my evolving stance on the role of the primary Antagonist where romance novels are concerned. Broadly-speaking it’s this: Unless the Antagonist is the other lover, I don’t give a damn.
I know that the Antagonist is important; in Story, it’s the fact that the Antagonist is blocking the Protagonist’s goal that forces the Protagonist to change and grow in pursuit of that goal. It’s just that, as a reader and a writer, the conflict (i.e. the force for change and growth) that I’m most invested in, is the one between the lovers. (I think of this model of conflict in romance relationships as the sexual crucible, a concept taken from the work of marriage and family therapist Dr. David Schnarch, and one which I’ll discuss more fully later in the post.)
This preference of mine is problematic, I know. As a reader, it means that I will flip pages and skip scenes that are in the Antagonist’s point of view, because unless the big A is on the page with the lovers actively giving them grief, I don’t care, and I want to be in one of the lovers’ POVs in that case, anyway. (An exception to this is any work by Jenny Crusie, because missing a chance to spend time in the head of one of her characters is a sin. I will also make an exception if the POV moment for the Antagonist is relatively brief AND I get the sense that they are soon to be the hero or heroine of their own book.)
Writing-wise, things become tricky, too. If my hero’s goal is in direct conflict with my heroine’s, neither of them can back away from their goal because it’s so important, and only one of them can win, this is GREAT conflict, but not exactly the recipe for a believable Happy Ever After. Take the case of the Tom Hanks, Meg Ryan movie, You’ve Got Mail. Hanks’ character destroys Ryan’s character’s cherished family bookstore, and yet we’re supposed to believe that they’ll be HEA because “it was only business.”
Um, no.
Ryan’s character’s motivation had to be violated in order to make that ending “work.” And the minute we violate character is the minute our books become so-hard-the-plaster-fell wall-bangers, so let’s not go there.
Let us instead look at the case of the Nicholas Cage, Cher movie, Moonstruck—by way of a brief detour to the Tarot deck. In some Tarot readings, the Tower card (interestingly, also known as La Foudre, “The Lightning”) means the destruction of our old lives, and at the core, the destruction of the edifice that was our sense of Self. But—and this is a big “But” (*insert preadolescent giggling here*)—it’s often the destruction of a false and ill-fitting Self; a Self that is a lie, and that is holding us back in crucial ways. Screenwriter and novelist Michael Hauge talks about character arc as a process of going from “identity”—this safe but false sense of Self, to “essence”—an authentic, scary, but fully-alive state of being. Living in our essence is risky; we’re naked and striving, with none of our usual defenses to protect us, so we’ll often resist it like hell, or run from it. Living in our essence is the only way to be truly seen and truly fulfilled, however, so we’ll continue to yearn for it, and in our braver moments, we’ll act on it, too.
Back to Moonstruck. In this movie, Loretta is hungry for love and passion, but her life has become about being safe and reasonable, and she is settling for emotional scraps from her fiance, who is more married to his mother than he ever will be to Loretta. When Loretta meets her fiance’s brother, Ronny, she is initially appalled by, then desperately attracted to his intensity—so much so that she goes to bed with him only a few hours later. Ronny proceeds to “tower” Loretta’s gray existence, and we, the audience, cheer him on. It’s not a tragedy to see her dutiful life burn away under the blowtorch of Ronny’s passion and determination, it’s a relief. He sees her essence, won’t accept anything less, and is willing to fight her for it:
"Love don't make things nice. It ruins everything. It breaks your heart. It makes things a mess. We aren't here to make things perfect. The snowflakes are perfect. The stars are perfect. Not us. Not us! We are here to ruin ourselves and to break our hearts and love the wrong people and die. Now I want you to come upstairs with me and get in my bed!"
Everything she thought she knew about her life and her Self is remade in the fires of her relationship with Ronny; all the lies and facades melt away, and what is left is true and shining. It’s the philosopher’s stone that’s at the heart of every great romance, and it’s why the crucible is such a perfect metaphor for this alchemical dynamic. Let me be clear: there are wonderful romances out there in which the other lover doesn’t act as the primary antagonist, but most romances DO have a moment in which the lovers call each other on their bullshit in some form or fashion, and the characters grow and change in an important way because of it. I love this, because I think it says something true about the power of human relationships to make us better, and more fully ourselves. Moonstruck works because Ronny’s “towering” serves Loretta’s journey towards her essence and her goal of being deeply, passionately loved, even if the means of achieving her goal gets stood on its head.
So there you have it: my bias about the role of the Antagonist in Romantic relationships, and my favorite Romance dynamic. I want to say more about Schnarch’s work, and the ways in which he says the crucible dynamic plays out for couples in the bedroom, because it is hot and profound, but I’ll leave that for another post. I would also like to recommend The Popcorn Dialogues, Jenny Crusie's, Lucy March's, and Alastair Stephens' rocking podcast for anyone interested in what movies can teach novelists about storytelling. (Seriously: they're currently covering caper movies and Trickster heroes right now, and it's fabulous.)
But enough about me. Do you have preferences about where and how conflict is used in romance novels? Favorite couple dynamics? Examples of what worked for you and what didn’t? Share, please!
I am a Craft geek.
I’ll even admit that in conversations with other writers, I often blow past “geek” and go straight to “pedant,” sometimes missing “nazi” by mere inches.
Therefore, it’s been interesting to observe my evolving stance on the role of the primary Antagonist where romance novels are concerned. Broadly-speaking it’s this: Unless the Antagonist is the other lover, I don’t give a damn.
I know that the Antagonist is important; in Story, it’s the fact that the Antagonist is blocking the Protagonist’s goal that forces the Protagonist to change and grow in pursuit of that goal. It’s just that, as a reader and a writer, the conflict (i.e. the force for change and growth) that I’m most invested in, is the one between the lovers. (I think of this model of conflict in romance relationships as the sexual crucible, a concept taken from the work of marriage and family therapist Dr. David Schnarch, and one which I’ll discuss more fully later in the post.)
This preference of mine is problematic, I know. As a reader, it means that I will flip pages and skip scenes that are in the Antagonist’s point of view, because unless the big A is on the page with the lovers actively giving them grief, I don’t care, and I want to be in one of the lovers’ POVs in that case, anyway. (An exception to this is any work by Jenny Crusie, because missing a chance to spend time in the head of one of her characters is a sin. I will also make an exception if the POV moment for the Antagonist is relatively brief AND I get the sense that they are soon to be the hero or heroine of their own book.)
Writing-wise, things become tricky, too. If my hero’s goal is in direct conflict with my heroine’s, neither of them can back away from their goal because it’s so important, and only one of them can win, this is GREAT conflict, but not exactly the recipe for a believable Happy Ever After. Take the case of the Tom Hanks, Meg Ryan movie, You’ve Got Mail. Hanks’ character destroys Ryan’s character’s cherished family bookstore, and yet we’re supposed to believe that they’ll be HEA because “it was only business.”
Um, no.
Ryan’s character’s motivation had to be violated in order to make that ending “work.” And the minute we violate character is the minute our books become so-hard-the-plaster-fell wall-bangers, so let’s not go there.
Let us instead look at the case of the Nicholas Cage, Cher movie, Moonstruck—by way of a brief detour to the Tarot deck. In some Tarot readings, the Tower card (interestingly, also known as La Foudre, “The Lightning”) means the destruction of our old lives, and at the core, the destruction of the edifice that was our sense of Self. But—and this is a big “But” (*insert preadolescent giggling here*)—it’s often the destruction of a false and ill-fitting Self; a Self that is a lie, and that is holding us back in crucial ways. Screenwriter and novelist Michael Hauge talks about character arc as a process of going from “identity”—this safe but false sense of Self, to “essence”—an authentic, scary, but fully-alive state of being. Living in our essence is risky; we’re naked and striving, with none of our usual defenses to protect us, so we’ll often resist it like hell, or run from it. Living in our essence is the only way to be truly seen and truly fulfilled, however, so we’ll continue to yearn for it, and in our braver moments, we’ll act on it, too.
Back to Moonstruck. In this movie, Loretta is hungry for love and passion, but her life has become about being safe and reasonable, and she is settling for emotional scraps from her fiance, who is more married to his mother than he ever will be to Loretta. When Loretta meets her fiance’s brother, Ronny, she is initially appalled by, then desperately attracted to his intensity—so much so that she goes to bed with him only a few hours later. Ronny proceeds to “tower” Loretta’s gray existence, and we, the audience, cheer him on. It’s not a tragedy to see her dutiful life burn away under the blowtorch of Ronny’s passion and determination, it’s a relief. He sees her essence, won’t accept anything less, and is willing to fight her for it:
"Love don't make things nice. It ruins everything. It breaks your heart. It makes things a mess. We aren't here to make things perfect. The snowflakes are perfect. The stars are perfect. Not us. Not us! We are here to ruin ourselves and to break our hearts and love the wrong people and die. Now I want you to come upstairs with me and get in my bed!"
Everything she thought she knew about her life and her Self is remade in the fires of her relationship with Ronny; all the lies and facades melt away, and what is left is true and shining. It’s the philosopher’s stone that’s at the heart of every great romance, and it’s why the crucible is such a perfect metaphor for this alchemical dynamic. Let me be clear: there are wonderful romances out there in which the other lover doesn’t act as the primary antagonist, but most romances DO have a moment in which the lovers call each other on their bullshit in some form or fashion, and the characters grow and change in an important way because of it. I love this, because I think it says something true about the power of human relationships to make us better, and more fully ourselves. Moonstruck works because Ronny’s “towering” serves Loretta’s journey towards her essence and her goal of being deeply, passionately loved, even if the means of achieving her goal gets stood on its head.
So there you have it: my bias about the role of the Antagonist in Romantic relationships, and my favorite Romance dynamic. I want to say more about Schnarch’s work, and the ways in which he says the crucible dynamic plays out for couples in the bedroom, because it is hot and profound, but I’ll leave that for another post. I would also like to recommend The Popcorn Dialogues, Jenny Crusie's, Lucy March's, and Alastair Stephens' rocking podcast for anyone interested in what movies can teach novelists about storytelling. (Seriously: they're currently covering caper movies and Trickster heroes right now, and it's fabulous.)
But enough about me. Do you have preferences about where and how conflict is used in romance novels? Favorite couple dynamics? Examples of what worked for you and what didn’t? Share, please!
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Connecting With Our Characters
by Lucy Marsden
Sometimes we struggle with it as part of a first draft process—a feeling that we don’t know this person who we’re trying to write about, and so the character feels one-dimensional or inert for a while.
Sometimes the issue is that the outside world has pulled us away from our story for so long that we’ve forgotten whatever it was that we thought we knew about our story people, and are faced with the challenge of re-immersing ourselves and bringing the story back to life.
And sometimes it’s something totally different, some other factor that makes our characters feel like awkward, unlikeable strangers to us. I won’t pretend to be able to analyze every aspect of this; my guess is that the struggle presents differently from writer to writer. My fabulous critique partner, Ruth Cardello, and I both recently dealt with this issue, however, and I thought it would be cool to invite her over to talk about our different experiences with our estranged characters, and what helped us to finally connect.
LM: Ruthie, you recently self-published the first book in your Legacy series, MAID FOR THE BILLIONAIRE. The positive responses to the book that you received resurrected your enthusiasm for completing the second book in the series, FOR LOVE OR LEGACY. You’ve spoken to me in the past about how difficult it was to reconnect with the characters in this book. Can you say more about that?
RC: Lucy, thank you for asking me to share my experience on your blog. I've learned so much over the years from listening to others work through the bumps and slumps that are part of the writing process. I hope my experience is able to help someone else.
I finished MAID FOR THE BILLIONAIRE over a year ago and began dabbling with the second book. In the last year, however, I changed jobs and added a new baby to my family. My busy schedule left me feeling disconnected from my characters—a feeling that intensified with each "pass" I received in response to my first book.
I wrote and rewrote the first chapter so many times that I forgot what I loved about the hero and the heroine in the first place. Stephan had sizzled on the page in book one....so why was he a one dimensional, overdone douche in the second book?
I had to reconnect with my first story to find out, and I'm guessing that it's that process that you'd like me to share here.
LM: Yes, please!
RC: First, I had to get excited about writing again. I had heard that some people put a book up on Amazon and B&N for free in order to gain an interest base before they publish and charge for their second book. I decided to take the plunge. What did I have to lose? If the first story wasn't as good as I hoped, then I would know pretty quickly as the reviews came in. Maybe Stephan was never that sexy of a character, and that's why he was having trouble carrying his own book.
I uploaded my book four days ago, and as of right now (clicking over a tab to check), 1,106 people have downloaded it. The reviews were better than I had hoped, and emails are coming in from people around the country who want to read Stephan's story.
So, I dusted off my original chapter—yes, the first one I wrote before my revising frenzy beat the life out of it, and read it back to back with MAID FOR THE BILLIONAIRE. The problem was instantly clear. In the first book, Stephan promised the reader a complex character with strong motivation for his actions. When I tried to fit that character into the more traditional beginning of a category romance, however, his character deflated. He didn't want to be defined by the heros who had come before him. He had his own story to tell. I just had to get out of his way.
I'm happy to say that Stephan is back in book two and raising the temperature on the page again.
LM: So glad to hear it, Ruthie, and so glad that you could come over and be part of this discussion!
For myself, I think a couple of different things were going on in the scene that I was working on. First, I had been away from the scene for a couple of weeks, and that always makes me feel like I’ve got this heaping helping of inertia to overcome in terms of getting back into the story world.
Second, the hero and antagonists’ goals for the scene had changed, and were still in the process of re-gelling, so I was whacking myself over the head for a couple of hours trying to nail down what Bastien wanted, why he wanted it, who was getting in his way and how, and how he was going to react to that emotionally and behaviorally. You know—trifling stuff like that.
Last, I think I unconsciously use an omniscient camera angle during my first draft; I am so worried about laying out the story for myself, that I am telling almost everything and showing almost nothing. And there might be nothing wrong with that; writing is mostly about re-writing, and layering in all the stuff that you don’t gravitate towards during your first pass, but here’s the thing: that omniscient lens was making Bastien feel facile and distant, and it was leaving me cold.
My current MS is an erotic romance, which means the story is ALL about emotional and sensual intensity and immediacy. Moreover, this was the scene where my hero and heroine would finally meet! Instead of being immersed in the fun of that, though, I felt like I was watching my toothsome hero through several layers of plexiglass, or possibly even Tupperware. What to do?
Well, I started by going to the library, barricading myself in one of the private study rooms, and shoving super-duper earplugs in my ear. The rest of the solution was a two-part procedure:
1) I pulled a piece of text from one of my favorite romance authors, Denise Rossetti, whose use of deep, third-person POV feels very powerful to me. I noticed how completely she put me in the skin of her characters, how every sensory detail and emotional reaction was SHOWN. I noticed how the vibe of a particular character infused his thoughts and perceptions and dialogue-- every bit of it was so very him. Then I went back to my scene, and looked for opportunities to use the same techniques.
2) I repeated to myself, over and over again: “Stop rushing to tell this story. Slow your ass down, and BE in the scene with Bastien.”
Thankfully, this worked. Bastien isn’t as exuberantly 3-D as he will be in time, but I can hear him and feel him in a way that I couldn’t before, and the heat and humor that should be in the scene is showing up, praise Jah.
So tell me, because I’d love to hear more from other folks: What blocks you when you’re trying to connect to your characters, and how do you get around it?
Sometimes we struggle with it as part of a first draft process—a feeling that we don’t know this person who we’re trying to write about, and so the character feels one-dimensional or inert for a while.
Sometimes the issue is that the outside world has pulled us away from our story for so long that we’ve forgotten whatever it was that we thought we knew about our story people, and are faced with the challenge of re-immersing ourselves and bringing the story back to life.
And sometimes it’s something totally different, some other factor that makes our characters feel like awkward, unlikeable strangers to us. I won’t pretend to be able to analyze every aspect of this; my guess is that the struggle presents differently from writer to writer. My fabulous critique partner, Ruth Cardello, and I both recently dealt with this issue, however, and I thought it would be cool to invite her over to talk about our different experiences with our estranged characters, and what helped us to finally connect.
LM: Ruthie, you recently self-published the first book in your Legacy series, MAID FOR THE BILLIONAIRE. The positive responses to the book that you received resurrected your enthusiasm for completing the second book in the series, FOR LOVE OR LEGACY. You’ve spoken to me in the past about how difficult it was to reconnect with the characters in this book. Can you say more about that?
RC: Lucy, thank you for asking me to share my experience on your blog. I've learned so much over the years from listening to others work through the bumps and slumps that are part of the writing process. I hope my experience is able to help someone else.
I finished MAID FOR THE BILLIONAIRE over a year ago and began dabbling with the second book. In the last year, however, I changed jobs and added a new baby to my family. My busy schedule left me feeling disconnected from my characters—a feeling that intensified with each "pass" I received in response to my first book.
I wrote and rewrote the first chapter so many times that I forgot what I loved about the hero and the heroine in the first place. Stephan had sizzled on the page in book one....so why was he a one dimensional, overdone douche in the second book?
I had to reconnect with my first story to find out, and I'm guessing that it's that process that you'd like me to share here.
LM: Yes, please!
RC: First, I had to get excited about writing again. I had heard that some people put a book up on Amazon and B&N for free in order to gain an interest base before they publish and charge for their second book. I decided to take the plunge. What did I have to lose? If the first story wasn't as good as I hoped, then I would know pretty quickly as the reviews came in. Maybe Stephan was never that sexy of a character, and that's why he was having trouble carrying his own book.
I uploaded my book four days ago, and as of right now (clicking over a tab to check), 1,106 people have downloaded it. The reviews were better than I had hoped, and emails are coming in from people around the country who want to read Stephan's story.
So, I dusted off my original chapter—yes, the first one I wrote before my revising frenzy beat the life out of it, and read it back to back with MAID FOR THE BILLIONAIRE. The problem was instantly clear. In the first book, Stephan promised the reader a complex character with strong motivation for his actions. When I tried to fit that character into the more traditional beginning of a category romance, however, his character deflated. He didn't want to be defined by the heros who had come before him. He had his own story to tell. I just had to get out of his way.
I'm happy to say that Stephan is back in book two and raising the temperature on the page again.
LM: So glad to hear it, Ruthie, and so glad that you could come over and be part of this discussion!
For myself, I think a couple of different things were going on in the scene that I was working on. First, I had been away from the scene for a couple of weeks, and that always makes me feel like I’ve got this heaping helping of inertia to overcome in terms of getting back into the story world.
Second, the hero and antagonists’ goals for the scene had changed, and were still in the process of re-gelling, so I was whacking myself over the head for a couple of hours trying to nail down what Bastien wanted, why he wanted it, who was getting in his way and how, and how he was going to react to that emotionally and behaviorally. You know—trifling stuff like that.
Last, I think I unconsciously use an omniscient camera angle during my first draft; I am so worried about laying out the story for myself, that I am telling almost everything and showing almost nothing. And there might be nothing wrong with that; writing is mostly about re-writing, and layering in all the stuff that you don’t gravitate towards during your first pass, but here’s the thing: that omniscient lens was making Bastien feel facile and distant, and it was leaving me cold.
My current MS is an erotic romance, which means the story is ALL about emotional and sensual intensity and immediacy. Moreover, this was the scene where my hero and heroine would finally meet! Instead of being immersed in the fun of that, though, I felt like I was watching my toothsome hero through several layers of plexiglass, or possibly even Tupperware. What to do?
Well, I started by going to the library, barricading myself in one of the private study rooms, and shoving super-duper earplugs in my ear. The rest of the solution was a two-part procedure:
1) I pulled a piece of text from one of my favorite romance authors, Denise Rossetti, whose use of deep, third-person POV feels very powerful to me. I noticed how completely she put me in the skin of her characters, how every sensory detail and emotional reaction was SHOWN. I noticed how the vibe of a particular character infused his thoughts and perceptions and dialogue-- every bit of it was so very him. Then I went back to my scene, and looked for opportunities to use the same techniques.
2) I repeated to myself, over and over again: “Stop rushing to tell this story. Slow your ass down, and BE in the scene with Bastien.”
Thankfully, this worked. Bastien isn’t as exuberantly 3-D as he will be in time, but I can hear him and feel him in a way that I couldn’t before, and the heat and humor that should be in the scene is showing up, praise Jah.
So tell me, because I’d love to hear more from other folks: What blocks you when you’re trying to connect to your characters, and how do you get around it?
Thursday, March 31, 2011
Sharing The Genre-Joy: 6 Reasons Why Romance Rocks
by Lucy Marsden
Granted, I’m not exactly an impartial judge: I’ve been reading Romance for thirty years, and writing it for the last six, so it’s fair to say that I’ve drunk deep of the genre Kool-Aid. Nevertheless, Romance—and the cultural dialogue around it—have grown and evolved in ways that I’d argue are worthy of appreciation, even by folks whose usual reaction to a book covered by bulging male pectorals (hereinafter referred to as man-titty) is something akin to anaphylaxis. So without further ado, here are 6 great reasons to celebrate the Romance genre:
Reason #6: Romance Kicks Market Share Butt. A lot.
Romance represented the largest share of the consumer market in 2009, at 13.2 percent. It was the second top performing category on the New York Times, USA Today, and Publishers Weekly bestseller lists, surpassed only by books with movie tie-ins. Romance fiction garnered $1.36 billion in estimated revenue for that year, up $100 million from the year before, which is pretty impressive, no? And these high sales and indications of profitable growth (which appear to have continued into 2010, if Torstar/Harlequin’s first quarter earnings were any indication), deserve even more applause when you consider the overall decline in many other areas of publishing during the same period.
Reason #5: Have RWA, Will Travel—It’s The New Writer’s Secret Weapon
The mission of the Romance Writers of America “is to advance the professional interests of career-focused romance writers through networking and advocacy.” My take, as someone who came to writing fiction from a completely different professional background, is that RWA membership is one of the fastest ways for a new writer to get up to speed with craft and publishing—whether they write Romance or not. Romance intersects with a lot of other genres, and the breadth of the RWA resources is huge: national and chapter conferences on publishing, craft, and the writing life; regional and special interest chapters (145, at last count); and the monthly professional journal The Romance Writer’s Report, where the latest information on deals, agents, and publishers is available. Is membership in the RWA necessary in order to write a great book or have a healthy publishing career? No—but it provides the tools and the company to make meeting these challenges a lot more fun, so why go it alone?
Reason #4: The Academy Has The Hots For Romance
And it’s about time. From Princeton University’s 2009 conference Love As The Practice of Freedom: Romance Fiction & American Culture, to Depaul University’s Romance Scholar Digest: A Listserve for Scholars and Teachers of Romance, to the popular blog Teach Me Tonight (Musings on Romance Fiction From An Academic Perspective), Romance is establishing itself in academia as a genre worthy of analysis. It’s an acknowledgment of the popularity of Romance, certainly, but it’s an acknowledgment of its significance and relevance, too, and that’s beautiful to see.
Reason # 3 : Heaving Bosoms and The Smart Bitches
Sarah Wendell and Candy Tan say Smart Bitches, Trashy Books began in 2005 “as a community of romance readers eager to talk about which romance novels rocked their worlds, and which ones made them throw the book with as much velocity as possible.” Since then, the site has become a magnet for readers, writers, academics, and spectators addicted to the blend of thoughtful, incisive, and howlingly funny commentary the Bitches provide on every aspect of the Romance industry. Their book, Beyond Heaving Bosoms, The Smart Bitches Guide to Romance, was published by Touchstone/Fireside in 2009, and it truly is an A—Z tour. From the provenance of the “Old Skool, rape-tastic” romances of the late '80s/early '90s, to a discussion of the significance of “The Magic Hoo-Hoo,” and “The Heroic Wang of Mighty Lovin',” Tan and Wendell celebrate everything that’s awesome and absurd about Romance, and they do it with wit and verve.
Reason #2: Within Romance (And Erotica!), Sex Gets The Respect It Deserves
Let’s face it: sex is still trivialized and exploited in the wider culture. We value sexiness in women, with its emphasis on objectified performance, but still treat actually being sexual as something taboo. Men, on the other hand, are expected to always be ready for and interested in sex, even if they’re not emotionally engaged. Sometimes it’s a WTFBBQ for everyone concerned, so thank heaven things are different in modern Romancelandia, where a woman’s sexual agency and satisfaction are key, and men are allowed to acknowledge the human need for intimacy. I’m not going to tell you that the sex is always well-motivated (or even well-written), but as a genre, Romance usually invests sex (and the emotion that accompanies it) with significance and power. Sex scenes are important turning points for both character and plot in many Romances, not because we writers are obsessed with Tab A and Slot B, but because we duly acknowledge the impact of sex. It can be tender and reverent, or edgy and explosive, but sex raises the stakes for people—in stories, as in real life. (By the way, if you haven’t already done so, please read Jen Lopez’s post: An Erotica Writer’s Manifesto. It’s fucking marvelous—pun absolutely intended.)
And Finally, The #1 Reason to Celebrate Romance: An Emotionally-Just Universe
Always-amazing author Jenny Crusie talks about this on her website in her essay, “Let Us Now Praise Scribbling Women.” Though genre fiction in general makes the promise of some form of justice—moral or intellectual, Romance fiction makes the biggest promise of all, she argues:
“It says that if you truly open yourself to other people, if you do the hardest thing of all which is to make yourself vulnerable and reach out for love and connection and everything that makes life as a human being worth living, you will be rewarded; it promises, in short, an emotionally just universe.”
I love that. I love it because that’s the universe that I inhabit, and contrary to some pundits’ criticism of Romance, it’s not a deluded fantasy dimension full of pink candy-floss. I’m quite aware of the fact that bad things happen for no good reason—that’s why the act of choosing to create beautiful things and love people anyway is such an act of everyday heroism. Thorton Wilder said as much in The Bridge of San Luis Rey: “There is a land of the living, and a land of the dead, and the bridge is love; the only survival, the only meaning.” Romance privileges loving relationships to a degree that no other genre does, putting them at the center of the story, and testifying over and over again to their power and possibility.
And that, my friends, is why Romance rocks.
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