Sweat the Small Stuff

When revealing character, the small details matter. They might matter more, in fact, than the "big" details.

When I first sent ALL I NEVER WANTED to my beta readers, one returned the very first page with a note that changed the way I described my characters:

First and foremost, this is a story of redemption.
But it’s also a love story. A love story that begins with a black eye and a mental health facility, and while that hardly seems the setting for a modern romance, and I’m the last guy anyone would consider a knight in shining armor, trust me when I say I’d suffer a thousand black eyes to meet her again. But before there was the rehab and the fist to the face and the falling for a girl with jagged nails and graphite smudges on her fingertips, there was my dad’s annual holiday party. And it happened like this. . . .

I don't remember how I first described Summer Evans in the prologue, but it leaned toward blonde hair and blue eyes and was, in a word, boring. It was the beta who suggested I re-think how I first presented Summer to the audience. Hair and eyes are great, but those jagged nails and graphite smudges tell a much deeper story, don't you think?

It's the little details that will add life to your story. I could've gone on about how massive Trent's house was, but I zeroed in on the columns--the leaves carved into the capitals--and it really only mattered that Crewe knocked a server's tray out of her hands at their dad's party, but it's more exciting when it's a silver tray of miniature cannoli which scatter, rolling across the marble floor.

The little details aren't so little, then, so don't equate little with unimportant. It's the small things that the reader will remember--that will breathe life into your story.

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~   

Workshop: Premises (Part 2)

The following post originally appeared in the June 2018 newsletter. If you're not already a subscriber, the link is in the sidebar. -->

Did you miss part one? Catch up here.

After determining to write something that may change your life, looking for what’s possible, identifying the story challenges and problems, and finding the designing principle, John Truby’s (The Anatomy of Story) next piece of advice is to:

5) Determine the best character in the idea

The character that tells your story should be the one who is able to sustain the audience’s interest. He should be fascinating and challenging and complex.

To discover your best character, consider the story you are aiming to tell and ask yourself: “Who do I love?”

Truby says that this question can even be expanded to include:

“Do I want to see [this character] act?”

“Do I love the way he thinks?”

“Do I care about the challenges he has to overcome?”

Then . . .

6. Get a sense of the central conflict

In this step, we need to know who is going to fight whom, for what, and why, and how this cause and effect pattern will play out in the story. Which brings us to:

7. Get a sense of the single cause-and-effect pathway

Remember: the plot of the story should flow logically with a “because X happened, Y happened, and because Y happened, Z happened” pattern. The story should not follow an “X happened and then Y happened and then Z happened” pattern.

“And then” statements don’t progress the story; in fact, they (most likely) only serve to link random events. If a scene has no effect on or outcome related to the key events that unfold, it’s probably best to delete it. It’s unnecessary.

8. Determine how your character will change throughout the story

In my opinion, one of the most satisfying things about reading novels is seeing characters grow and change as they undergo struggles and face their demons. A good protagonist will not remain static through a dramatic arc.

In fact, Truby says: “the basic action [in a story] should be the one action best able to force the character to deal with his weaknesses and change.”

Go ahead and brainstorm any number of potential challenges and weaknesses, and be creative in how you link the two. Your first few ideas will likely be clichés, so dig deep.

9. Figure out the hero’s possible moral choice

A moral decision is made based on a person's ethics, manners, character, and what they believe to be “proper” behavior.

“To be a true choice, your hero must select one of two positive outcomes or, on rare occasions, avoid one of two negative outcomes,” says Truby.

The options should be as equal as possible, with only one seeming slightly better (or worse) than the other.

10. Determine the audience appeal

Once these steps are taken, it’s time to ask yourself: “Is this story unique enough to interest a lot of people?”

Ten easy steps, right? Well, maybe easier said than done, but if you can at least get a few of these nailed down before you begin writing, you’ll be in a better position to craft a solid story.

Happy Writing!

Resources:

John Truby. The Anatomy of Story: 22 Steps to Becoming a Master Storyteller. Faber and Faber. New York. 2007

Workshop: Premises (Part 1)

The following post originally appeared in the May 2018 newsletter. If you're not already a subscriber, the link is in the sidebar. -->

In one of my favorite books on storytelling, John Truby discusses the idea of premises. The premise, he says, “is your story stated in one sentence.”

Many publishing houses prefer “high concept” premises, or those stories that can be reduced to a simple description that audiences will both understand and want to see. In film, this is known as a “logline.” In publishing, it’s sometimes referred to as an “elevator pitch.”

According to Alexandra Sokoloff, the premise “should give you a sense of the entire story: the character of the protagonist, the character of the antagonist, the conflict, the setting, the tone, the genre. And – it should make whoever hears it want to read the book. Preferably immediately.”

Here are the three movie premises she provides as examples:

1. When a great white shark starts attacking beachgoers in a coastal town during high tourist season, a water-phobic Sheriff must assemble a team to hunt it down before it kills again.

2. A young female FBI trainee must barter personal information with an imprisoned psychopathic genius in order to catch a serial killer who is capturing and killing young women for their skins.

3. A treasure-hunting archeologist races over the globe to find the legendary Lost Ark of the Covenant before Hitler’s minions can acquire and use it to supernaturally power the Nazi army.

Chances are, you know exactly which movies she’s referencing just by these simple (one-sentence) descriptions.

Book/story premises work the same way. Here are a couple of Truby’s examples:

1. A boy discovers he has magical powers and attends a school for magicians.

2.  When an Egyptian prince discovers that he is a Hebrew, he leads his people out of slavery.

Often, as writers, we fumble over the ideas when someone asks what our book is about. After all, a lot happens in two hundred pages. But the clearer we can be about our novel’s premise before we begin writing, the better.

The premise for Cross My Heart:

A young perfectionist falls in love with the proverbial “bad boy,” making her rethink everything she knows about life and love.

And for Collateral Damage:

A young cop falls in love with a classmate while he’s working undercover, inadvertently dragging her into the crossfire as he tries to take down a local drug dealer.

Nailing down the premise before you start drafting is prudent because

if the premise is weak, nothing else is going to help the story.

So how do we come up with a million-dollar premise (or, at the very least, a premise that people will want to read)?

Truby suggests:

1.  Write a story that will change your life.

“If a story is that important to you,” he says, “it may be that important to a lot of people in the audience.”

2.  Examine every possible story path.

“Don’t jump on a single possibility right away, even if it looks really good,” he says.

Explore your options, don’t censor yourself, and choose the best one.

3. Identify and analyze the story’s potential challenges.

You’ll have to confront and solve these problems early if you want to tell the most effective story. Otherwise, Truby says: “be prepared to confront any narrative challenges as the story unfolds.”

4. Find the Designing Principle

The designing principle is your story strategy, or how you will tell your story.

“The designing principle is what organizes the story as a whole. It is the internal logic of the story, what makes the parts hang together organically so that the story becomes greater than the sum of its parts. It is what makes the story original.”

This is a bit more abstract than the premise, but Truby has a great formula for determining the designing principle.

Designing principle = story process + original execution

Here are two of his examples:

A CHRISTMAS CAROL

Premise: When three ghosts visit a stingy old man, he regains the spirit of Christmas

Designing Principle: Trace the rebirth of a man by forcing him to view his past, present, and future over the course of one Christmas Eve.

IT’S A WONDERFUL LIFE

Premise: when a man prepares to commit suicide, an angel shows him what the world would be had he never been born.

Designing Principle: Express the power of the individual by showing what a town and nation would be like if one man had never lived.

To Be Continued. . . .

Resources:

Alexandra Sokoloff. “What’s Your Premise?” Screenwriting Tricks for Authors. 2010

http://www.screenwritingtricks.com/2010/02/whats-your-premise.html

John Truby. The Anatomy of Story: 22 Steps to Becoming a Master Storyteller. Faber and Faber. New York. 2007

Character History

*This originally appeared in my March 2018 newsletter. If you're not a subscriber yet, the link is in the sidebar. --> 

A well-developed character does not exist in the vacuum of a single story.

Not even close.

They arrive at the inciting incident as fully formed beings. They step into chapter one with the proverbial suitcase in hand—all of the baggage they carry with them that they have amassed over the years. This includes thousands of thoughts, feelings, and memories of events that have come together to shape who they are.

They come to your story with hopes and dreams and ideas, something they are striving for, something they are working toward, and these things have grown out of who they have become (and are still becoming, since one of the main functions of the plot is to change the character in some way). A character’s past, including the choices they have made, holds everything that brought them to the moment your story opens.

A past informs your character’s motives (why they do what they do).

A past informs your character’s attitudes (how they respond to the events and people around them).

We (the reader) don’t need to know everything about your character’s past, but you (the writer) should have a solid idea of the kind of person you’re dealing with before you sit down to tell their story.

It’s likely you will need to share some of those key past events as the plot unfolds, but keep in mind that “info dumps” should be avoided, and the memories the character is reflecting on can’t be “convenient” to the story. Attitudes and actions must ring authentic.

The memories shared throughout your narrative will be most effective if, while the character is considering them, the meaning changes based on new information or a new attitude. It may be that the character didn’t fully understand something at first, but now they do.

But most importantly: a character should act out of their true emotions, hide from their true emotions, or feel paralyzed because of their true emotions, and this all stems from their past. Who they were, who they are now, and who they are in the process of becoming is because of their past.

The key takeaway? Know your character’s history.

Knowing why they do what they do will help them act naturally (both in character and out of character, when the time comes) as the plot unfolds. And the more believable your character (and their choices), the more memorable they will be.

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~