writingadvice:

By AJ Barnett

Are you writing a novel?According to certain online sites, an element of new and inexperienced writers think that writing a novel is merely a matter of typing their story into a computer, wrapping it, sending it to an agent, then sitting back until fame arrives… They couldn’t be more wrong.

The first draft of a novel is but one small step on the long road to achieving publication.

In fairness to them, to actually complete a novel is an amazing accomplishment. Anyone doing it should be proud - most people never get that far.

However, more is required before submitting a manuscript to an agent. Inevitably, most manuscripts need a large spoonful of revision before reaching the standard required for publication. Even experienced and successful authors write several revisions before their work is acceptable.

Writing A Novel -  Don’t Be An Amateur

Editors recognize amateur writers quite easily. Amateurs tend to be intimately caught up in their manuscripts, aggressively fighting off all efforts at censure. Professionals regard constructive criticism as part of the writing process. Amateurs often take remarks about their work as a personal snub. Professionals realise that publishers have individual styles, so are prepared to measure up.

Writing A Novel - Now Put It Away

So, you now realize that something needs to be done to tone-up your novel - great stuff… However, the days immediately following the completion of a manuscript are not appropriate for starting the process. If you do, you’ll only read what you expect to read.

Place the manuscript or disc in a drawer for a few weeks. When you next read through it, you’ll be surprised at the flaws you’ll find - and with a bit of luck there will be parts that will make you flush with pleasure.

At this point don’t be tempted to make alterations. Take note of the changes you want, and then put it away for yet a few more days. Now is the time to think long and hard about the manuscript.

Writing A Novel - 11 Essential Checks

- Writing a Novel #1 - Does the first chapter hold the reader’s attention - does the opening need to be more interesting?

- Writing a Novel #2 - Are you pleased with the characterisation? Do characters come over as real people who behave in logical and coherent ways?

- Writing a Novel #3 - Is the dialogue exactly right? Dialogue should appear real yet NOT be the same as everyday speech. Real speech is too jerky and inarticulate to make good reading.

- Writing a Novel #4 - Is the story line sufficiently strong and does it run unequivocally all through the novel?

- Writing a Novel #5 - Have you maintained a good tempo throughout the story - a tempo that varies yet doesn’t flag?

- Writing a Novel #6 - Are the conflicts strong enough? Are they credible and do they create sufficient tension?

- Writing a Novel #7 - Is the theme of the story unmistakable yet not painstakingly in-your-face?

- Writing a Novel #8 - Have you balanced light with dark, pleasure with heartache? There should never be continuous gloom-and-doom, readers are searching for release from the daily drudge - they are seeking entertainment.

- Writing a Novel #9 - Is the finale reasonable and logical; will it be fulfilling for your reader?

- Writing a Novel #10 - Is all business complete? There should be no questions from the storyline left dangling around.

- Writing a Novel #11 - Does your writing run effortlessly? Remember - style is everything.

Writing A Novel - The Second Draft

Once you’ve determined what alterations are required, you can start the second draft - but be courageous about it. Don’t cling to segments simply because you think they’re a splendid example of your writing. No matter how brilliant you might think it is, if the writing doesn’t advance the tale, it should be removed. Each word should make a difference.

Writing A Novel - The Final Tasks

So the second writing of your novel is now complete, surely it is ready for submission now? Sorry, not yet.

One of the final tasks when writing a novel is to read it line by line. This time, begin reading at the last page and work backwards towards the first. This might seem odd, but this technique precludes the problem of admiring your own work. This time you are seeking out technical blunders such as grammar, purple prose, long sentences, repetition of favourite words, etc.

You now need someone else to check over your work. However, you should avoid asking for help from someone who is unqualified. So who do you ask?

• Opinions of friends and family are almost useless - there will be too much bias involved and not necessarily bias in your favour.
• Comments from your local writers’ circle might be useful, but unless they are published writers their remarks might be tinged by a certain amount of envy.
• A reasonable and impartial critique might be obtained from an online writers’ circle.
• For an unprejudiced assessment of your novel submit it for a professional critique. If you can’t afford a critique for the complete novel, consider the first three chapters. The feedback will provide a useful guide for further revisions.

When you’ve noted these final faults and flaws, you’re ready to make the ultimate copy of your novel - the copy you’re going to submit to your agent.

Don’t be duped into believing that it’s an editor’s task is to resolve these problems. Agents and publishers require your work to be as pristine as possible - if it isn’t, someone else’s will be, and yours will be consigned to the slush pile. Writing a novel is hard work but can be incredibly satisfying. Be happy about your writing, be wise - be prepared.

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writingadvice:

By Roy Peter Clark

At times it helps me to think that writing is a lot like carpentry. That way, I can work from a plan and use the tools I’ve stored on my workbench. You can borrow a writing tool whenever you’d like. And here’s a secret: you don’t have to return it. You can pass it on to another writer without losing it.

Here is my list of 20 writing tools. I’ve borrowed these from reporters and editors, from authors of books on writing [speech writing], and from teachers and coaches. I’ve learned how to use many of them by reading the work of storytellers I admire. In this space, I can offer only the briefest description of how to use the writing tool, but I hope it is enough to help you build your own collection.

Sentences and Paragraphs

1.Begin sentences with subjects and verbs, letting subordinate elements branch off to the right. Even a very long sentence can be clear and powerful when subject and verb make meaning early.

2.Use verbs in their strongest form, the simple present or past tense. Strong verbs create action, save words, and reveal the players. Beware of adverbs. Too often, they dilute the meaning of the verb or repeat it: “The building was completely destroyed.”

3.Place strong words at the beginning of sentences and paragraphs, and at the end. The period acts as a stop sign. Any word next to the period plays jazz.

Language

1.Observe word territory. Do not repeat a key word within a given space, unless you intend a specific effect.

2.Play with words, even in serious stories.

3.Dig for the concrete and specific: the name of the dog and the brand of the beer. Details help readers see the story.

4.When tempted by clichés, seek original images. Make word lists, free-associate, be surprised by language.

5.Prefer the simple over the technical: shorter words and paragraphs at the points of greatest complexity.

6.Strive for the mythic, symbolic, and poetic. Recognize that common themes of newswriting (homecoming, conquering obstacles, loss and restoration) have deep roots in the culture of storytelling.

Effects

1.For clarity, slow the pace of information. Short sentences make the reader move slowly. Time to think. Time to learn. See what I mean?

2.Control the pace of the story by varying sentence length. Long sentences create a flow that carries the reader down a stream of understanding, creating an effect that Don Fry calls “steady advance.” Or stop a reader short.

3.Show and tell. Begin at the bottom of the ladder of abstraction, at the level of bloody knives and rosary beads, of wedding rings and baseball cards. Then ascend to the top to summarize and analyze, discovering meaning in the world’s random details.

4.Reveal telling character traits and the glories of human speech. Avoid adjectives when describing people. Don’t say “enthusiastic” or “talkative,” but create a scene where the person reveals those characteristics to the reader.

5.Strive for “voice,” the illusion that the writer is speaking directly to the reader. Read the story aloud to hear if it sounds like you.

Structure

1.Take advantage of narrative opportunities. You want to write stories, not articles. Think of action, conflict, motivation, setting, chronology, and dialogue.

2.Place gold coins along the path. Don’t load all your best stuff high in the story. Space special effects throughout the story, encouraging readers to find them and be delighted by them.

3.Use sub-headlines to index the story for the reader. This tool tests the writer’s ability to find, and label, the big parts of the story.

4.Repeat key words or images to “chain” the story together. Repetition works only if you intend it.

5.In storytelling, three is the magic number. Four is too many. Two is not enough.

6.Write endings to create closure.

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neil-gaiman: Neil Gaiman

1 Write.

2 Put one word after another. Find the right word, put it down.

3 Finish what you’re writing. Whatever you have to do to finish it, finish it.

4 Put it aside. Read it pretending you’ve never read it before. Show it to friends whose opinion you respect and who like the kind of thing that this is.

5 Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.

6 Fix it. Remember that, sooner or later, before it ever reaches perfection, you will have to let it go and move on and start to write the next thing. Perfection is like chasing the horizon. Keep moving.

7 Laugh at your own jokes.

8 The main rule of writing is that if you do it with enough assurance and confidence, you’re allowed to do whatever you like. (That may be a rule for life as well as for writing. But it’s definitely true for writing.) So write your story as it needs to be written. Write it ­honestly, and tell it as best you can. I’m not sure that there are any other rules. Not ones that matter.

…

Read the whole article. It’s filled with great advice from wonderful writers…

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writingadvice: By Crawford Kilian

1. Nothing should happen at random. Every element in a story should have significance, whether for verisimilitude, symbolism, or the intended climax. Names, places, actions and events should all be purposeful. To test the significance of an element, ask: Why this place and not another? Why this name and not another? Why this action, this speech, and not others—or none at all? The answers should be: to persuade the reader of the story’s plausibility; to convey a message about the theme of the story; to prepare the reader for the climax so that it seems both plausible and in keeping with the theme.

2. Plot stems from character under adversity. A mild-mannered person cannot achieve his goals by an out-of-character action like a violent assault, unless we have prepared the reader for it by revealing a glimpse of some suppressed aspect of his personality that can be plausibly released by stress. And the stress itself must also be plausible, given the circumstances of the story.

3. Each character has an urgent personal agenda. Too much is at stake to abandon that agenda without good reason. We may not share the character’s urgency, but we should be able to see why he cares so much about what he’s doing. A character who acts without real motivation is by definition melodramatic, doing outrageous things for the sake of the thrill it gives the reader—not because it makes sense for the character to do so.

4. The plot of a story is the synthesis of the plots of its individual characters. Each character has a personal agenda, modified by conflict or concordance with the agendas of others. The villain doesn’t get everything his way, any more than the hero does; each keeps thwarting the other, who must then improvise under pressure. If the hero is moving northwest, and the villain is moving northeast, the plot carries them both more or less due north—at least until one or the other gains some advantage.

5. The plot “begins” long before the story. The story itself should begin at the latest possible moment before the climax, at a point when events take a decisive and irreversible turn. We may learn later, through flashbacks, exposition, or inference, about events occurring before the beginning of the story.

6. Foreshadow all important elements. The first part of a story is a kind of prophecy; the second part fulfills the prophecy. Any important character, location, object should be foreshadowed early in the story. The deus ex machina is unacceptable; you can’t pull a rabbit out of your hat to rescue your hero. But you can’t telegraph your punch either—your readers don’t want to see what’s coming, especially if your characters seem too dumb to see it. The trick is to put the plot element into your story without making the reader excessively aware of its importance. Chance and coincidence, in particular, require careful preparation if they are going to influence the plot.

7. Keep in mind the kind of story you’re telling. Any story is about the relationship of an individual to society. A comic story describes an isolated individual achieving social integration either by being accepted into an existing society or by forming his own. This integration is often symbolized by a wedding or feast. A tragic story describes an integrated individual who becomes isolated; death is simply a symbol of this isolation. The plot should keep us in some degree of suspense about what kind of story we’re reading. Even if we know it’s a comedy, the precise nature of the comic climax should come as a surprise. If we know the hero is doomed, his downfall should stem from a factor we know about but have not given sufficient weight to.

8. Ironic plots subvert their surface meanings. Here, an ordinarily desirable goal appears very unattractive to us: the hero marries, but chooses the wrong girl and turns his story into a tragedy. Or the hero may die, but gains some improvement in social acceptance as a result—by becoming a martyr or social savior, for example.

9. The hero must eventually take charge of events. In any plot the hero is passive for a time, reacting to events. At some point he must try to take charge. This is the counterthrust, when the story goes into high gear. In some cases we may have a series of thrusts and counterthrusts; in the opening stages of the plot, the counterthrust helps define the hero’s character and puts him in position for more serious conflicts (and counterthrusts) later in the story. You could even say that every scene presents the hero with a problem; his response is his counterthrust. In the larger structure of the plot, the counterthrust often comes after the hero’s original plan of action has failed; he has learned some hard lessons and now he will apply them as he approaches the climax of the story.

10. Plot dramatizes character. If all literature is the story of the quest for identity, then plot is the roadmap of that quest. Every event, every response, should reveal (to us if not to them) some aspect of the characters’ identities. Plot elements dramatize characters’ identities by providing opportunities to be brave or cowardly, stupid or brilliant, generous or mean. These opportunities come in the form of severe stress, appropriate to the kind of story you’re telling. A plot element used for its own sake—a fistfight, a sexual encounter, an ominous warning—is a needless burden to the story if it does not illuminate the characters involved. Conversely, the reader will not believe any character trait that you have not dramatized through a plot device.

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writingadvice: By Chuck Palahniuk

Number One: Two years ago, when I wrote the first of these essays it was about my “egg timer method” of writing. You never saw that essay, but here’s the method: When you don’t want to write, set an egg timer for one hour (or half hour) and sit down to write until the timer rings. If you still hate writing, you’re free in an hour. But usually, by the time that alarm rings, you’ll be so involved in your work, enjoying it so much, you’ll keep going. Instead of an egg timer, you can put a load of clothes in the washer or dryer and use them to time your work. Alternating the thoughtful task of writing with the mindless work of laundry or dish washing will give you the breaks you need for new ideas and insights to occur. If you don’t know what comes next in the story… clean your toilet. Change the bed sheets. For Christ sakes, dust the computer. A better idea will come.

Number Two: Your audience is smarter than you imagine. Don’t be afraid to experiment with story forms and time shifts. My personal theory is that younger readers distain most books - not because those readers are dumber than past readers, but because today’s reader is smarter. Movies have made us very sophisticated about storytelling. And your audience is much harder to shock than you can ever imagine.

Number Three: Before you sit down to write a scene, mull it over in your mind and know the purpose of that scene. What earlier set-ups will this scene pay off? What will it set up for later scenes? How will this scene further your plot? As you work, drive, exercise, hold only this question in your mind. Take a few notes as you have ideas. And only when you’ve decided on the bones of the scene - then, sit and write it. Don’t go to that boring, dusty computer without something in mind. And don’t make your reader slog through a scene in which little or nothing happens.

Number Four: Surprise yourself. If you can bring the story - or let it bring you - to a place that amazes you, then you can surprise your reader. The moment you can see any well-planned surprise, chances are, so will your sophisticated reader.

Number Five: When you get stuck, go back and read your earlier scenes, looking for dropped characters or details that you can resurrect as “buried guns.” At the end of writing Fight Club, I had no idea what to do with the office building. But re-reading the first scene, I found the throw-away comment about mixing nitro with paraffin and how it was an iffy method for making plastic explosives. That silly aside (… paraffin has never worked for me…) made the perfect “buried gun” to resurrect at the end and save my storytelling ass.

Number Six: Use writing as your excuse to throw a party each week - even if you call that party a “workshop.” Any time you can spend time among other people who value and support writing, that will balance those hours you spend alone, writing. Even if someday you sell your work, no amount of money will compensate you for your time spent alone. So, take your “paycheck” up front, make writing an excuse to be around people. When you reach the end of your life - trust me, you won’t look back and savor the moments you spent alone.

Number Seven: Let yourself be with Not Knowing. This bit of advice comes through a hundred famous people, through Tom Spanbauer to me and now, you. The longer you can allow a story to take shape, the better that final shape will be. Don’t rush or force the ending of a story or book. All you have to know is the next scene, or the next few scenes. You don’t have to know every moment up to the end, in fact, if you do it’ll be boring as hell to execute.

Number Eight: If you need more freedom around the story, draft to draft, change the character names. Characters aren’t real, and they aren’t you. By arbitrarily changing their names, you get the distance you need to really torture a character. Or worse, delete a character, if that’s what the story really needs.

Number Nine: There are three types of speech - I don’t know if this is TRUE, but I heard it in a seminar and it made sense. The three types are: Descriptive, Instructive, and Expressive. Descriptive: “The sun rose high…” Instructive: “Walk, don’t run…” Expressive: “Ouch!” Most fiction writers will only use one - at most, two - of these forms. So use all three. Mix them up. It’s how people talk.

Number Ten: Write the book you want to read.

Number Eleven: Get author book jacket photos taken now, while you’re young. And get the negatives and copyright on those photos.

Number Twelve: Write about the issues that really upset you. Those are the only things worth writing about. In his course, called “Dangerous Writing,” Tom Spanbauer stresses that life is too precious to spend it writing tame, conventional stories to which you have no personal attachment. There are so many things that Tom talked about but that I only half remember: the art of “manumission,” which I can’t spell, but I understood to mean the care you use in moving a reader through the moments of a story. And “sous conversation,” which I took to mean the hidden, buried message within the obvious story. Because I’m not comfortable describing topics I only half-understand, Tom’s agreed to write a book about his workshop and the ideas he teaches. The working title is “A Hole In The Heart,” and he plans to have a draft ready by June 2006, with a publishing date set in early 2007.

Number Thirteen: Almost every morning, I eat breakfast in the same diner, and this morning a man was painting the windows with Christmas designs. Snowmen. Snowflakes. Bells. Santa Claus. He stood outside on the sidewalk, painting in the freezing cold, his breath steaming, alternating brushes and rollers with different colors of paint. Inside the diner, the customers and servers watched as he layered red and white and blue paint on the outside of the big windows. Behind him the rain changed to snow, falling sideways in the wind.

The painter’s hair was all different colors of gray, and his face was slack and wrinkled as the empty ass of his jeans. Between colors, he’d stop to drink something out of a paper cup.

Watching him from inside, eating eggs and toast, somebody said it was sad. This customer said the man was probably a failed artist. It was probably whiskey in the cup. He probably had a studio full of failed paintings and now made his living decorating cheesy restaurant and grocery store windows. Just sad, sad, sad.

This painter guy kept putting up the colors. All the white “snow,” first. Then some fields of red and green. Then some black outlines that made the color shapes into Xmas stockings and trees.

A server walked around, pouring coffee for people, and said, “That’s so neat. I wish I could do that…”

And whether we envied or pitied this guy in the cold, he kept painting. Adding details and layers of color. And I’m not sure when it happened, but at some moment he wasn’t there. The pictures themselves were so rich, they filled the windows so well, the colors so bright, that the painter had left. Whether he was a failure or a hero. He’d disappeared, gone off to wherever, and all we were seeing was his work.

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