To Flashback or Not to Flashback?

When writers insert a flashback, it's because they need to present information from the past that's relevant to the present.

The problem?

Flashbacks slow down the narrative.

They put the action "on pause."

The desire to know what's happening next is what pushes the reader forward, but a flashback flips this idea, sending the reader straight to the past, or to what happened before the story began.

Therefore, it's safe to say that flashback scenes should be limited. If, as a writer, you're introducing too many flashbacks, you're probably telling the wrong story (or, at least, the wrong part of it), anyway.

Still, there are times when flashbacks are necessary and helpful, so treat every flashback like its own mini-story. Dramatize the events to keep the pace moving.

And remember that a flashback is only as helpful as its location. If the reader doesn't want or need to know the information at the time, then a flashback will only obstruct the story. But if there's no way to proceed without confusing the reader (i.e. she needs this information at this very moment to move forward), then go for it.  

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~

You Might Be a Writer If. . . .

You might be a writer if you think about sentences.

I mean, really think about them--what makes them strong, what makes them sing, what they're saying (as well as what they're not saying). . . .

"A beautiful sentence is a beautiful sentence."

-Francine Prose (Reading Like a Writer)

and

". . . if you are even thinking in these terms--that is, if you are even considering what might constitute strong, vigorous, energetic, and clear sentences--you are already far in advance of wherever you were before you were conscious of the sentence as something deserving our deep respect and enraptured attention."

So think about it: the structure, the diction, the pacing, the flow, the subtext.

(Think about 10,000 of these and you might even have a novel.) ;)

There's no rule that says every sentence must dance across the page, but if you can, make it beautiful. The discerning reader will notice. 

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~ 

Every. Single. Word.

If you've followed this blog for any extended period of time, you know how I feel about reading.

Good writers are good readers. 

Why? Because most of our writing skills are picked up through osmosis--by reading and analyzing the works of others. 

That's not to say that good readers are automatically good writers. No--there's still a degree of work involved. 

But to the student of mine who claims to want to be a writer but doesn't enjoy reading, I say: 

I'm sorry. It doesn't quite work that way. 

The competition for publishing contracts is fierce. We need writers who not only read widely and read well, but those who slow down to read every. single. word. on the page. We need the writers who ask themselves why this word and not that one? We need writers who consider the placement of every phrase in the sentence and what it's trying to convey. We need writers who read aloud, listening carefully for the structure and rhythm and cadence--what makes the sentence sing. We need writers who read the authors who make them feel woefully inadequate then work hard to bridge the gap between where they are and where they want to be.

That's the only way this works.

Practicing, putting in the 10,000 hours, learning from both our successes and failures, and READING the works of others: this is how good writers are made. 

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~

There's Just No Way. . . .

I've written and deleted a lot of posts/tweets/etc. in the past week. 

Then I decided (as usual) Seth Godin (among many others) has already addressed these ideas better than I ever could.

~:|:~

"There’s just no way to be sure what it feels like. Other people, people in our lives or out of it, people who look like us or don’t. Your mileage will vary, your experience will be different. Some started with a huge head start, some with a disadvantage they couldn’t possibly deserve. 

Of course, the “I” is really we. No matter who we are, we can’t truly know what it feels like for someone else. 

It may be that we can’t imagine what it’s like to be the victim of systemic distrust and profiling. Or what it’s like to worry about putting food on this table for that family. Or what it’s like to be fighting a chronic illness or being unjustly accused of a crime. 

We can try. We assume it’s just like what happened to us, but slightly different. We can realize that tragedy is unevenly distributed and in constant rotation, but it’s never going to be the same. 

But just because we can’t imagine–it doesn’t mean we can’t care. We can refuse to magnify our differences and focus on maximizing possibility, justice and connection instead. To take action and to dig in. 

The leverage we have to see, to speak up and to create long-term change is a difficult weight to carry. Because if we can do something to make things more just, that means that we must. 

I wish I was better at it. I wish it were easier. 

We’ll make things better by seeing, by speaking, by doing the work. Even if it’s uncomfortable, especially when it is.

--Seth Godin

To All the Writer Moms. . . .

Dear Writer Mom: 

I know your life right now is one constant interruption. Little people have demands, and they begin the moment they wake up in the morning until the last bedtime story is read. And even then there is the cajoling to lie down, to be still, no more glasses of water, you just used the bathroom there’s no way you have to go again. . . . 

Your life is a marathon. You wake up every morning ready to sprint through the day (coffee is nonnegotiable). Maybe the baby will nap well. Maybe you’ll find an activity that’s exciting enough to entertain the preschooler for more than fifteen minutes. Maybe you won’t discover the school-aged children in the bathroom giving the dog’s fur a trim or the teenager after having given herself bangs in a fit of emotional angst. 

But even on the good days the time is never fully yours. There is the cooking and the cleaning up of toys scattered from one end of the house to the other and the laundry and the preparing of snack after snack after snack and the taxi service you provide, shuttling your kids from one destination to the next. 

But in the nooks and crannies of the day your mind slips to something else that brings you joy: words. So you think about your characters—what they are doing and saying in that very moment. They come alive in your mind. They speak to you and act out and you wish to God you could just sit down for fifteen minutes to get the words onto the page before they’re lost forever even though you know the moment you try someone will inevitably need your attention because you are Mom. 

Yet something burns deep within you, demanding you tell your stories, and it must be something larger than yourself because it would be so much easier to tell the Muse to go away. Leave you in peace. Come back in eighteen years when the smoke has settled. 

But it’s not that easy because you are Writer Mom, and while you live to put stories onto the page, you also live to love and care for your children, and this consumes your most productive hours of every day. It’s a monotony, sometimes, but they tell you this season won’t last forever. One day the house will be as quiet and empty and as clean as you always imagined it could be, and you will have as much time to think and write and plan and plot as needed. 

For now, Writer Mom, keep setting your alarm an hour early. Your characters are ready for you long before everyone else has started their day. And if you write by candlelight, then know that your characters will wait up for you. And if you can only write one or two paragraphs in a single session, write knowing you are still an inspiration. Do not compare your Writer Mom sprint with someone else’s Writer Mom sprint. Push away the thought that you could be doing more. You are enough. Your children need their Mom and the world needs your words. 

You can be both Writer and Mom. 

Besides, what is a more powerful example to her children than a mother working toward her own dreams and goals? 

Show us the way, Writer Mom. 

We see you.

Where Writers Fail

According to John Truby (The Anatomy of Story), 

"Nine out of ten writers fail at the premise."

What is a premise?

The premise is your story stated in a single sentence. In screenwriting, this would be your "logline." 

The purpose of the premise statement is to present the central characters and conflict in order to give the reader a solid idea of what happens in the story.

Truby gives the following example for the premise of Casablanca:

A tough American expatriate rediscovers an old flame only to give her up so that he can fight the Nazis.

Here we have the main characters (an expatriate and a love interest), the central conflict (will they get together or won't they?), and the outcome (he's going to walk away).

The premise of a story is the foundation. Everything that will be developed within the narrative will serve as proof for the premise.

The success of any story depends largely on the premise because if, as writers, we can't boil the key idea down to a single statement, then it's likely we don't have a firm grasp of the overall point/purpose of the tale. 

The scenes may be in the right order, the climax might work, the characters may be well-rounded, and the writing is stellar, BUT if the overall premise is weak, the story is already lost. 

Nine times out of ten, the story is lost at the premise.

It's worth it, then, to give premises the attention they deserve--to nail down the key concept before the story words are even on the page. 

PREMISE:

"A boy from a privileged, upper-middle-class family falls for a girl in a rehabilitation facility accused of murdering her best friend."

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~

The Creative Process

English social psychologist Graham Wallas, in his 1926 book Art of Thought, argues there are four stages to the creative process. 

Preparation 

This is an investigation stage. This is the stage where we’re gathering ideas. We’re reading, watching movies, thinking about the project, and taking notes. I liken it to the gardener who preps her soil for the growing season. It’s all of the groundwork that happens before a seed can be planted.

Incubation

The second stage may look like procrastination on the outside, but might not be. Incubation occurs when we’ve gathered the information we need and now our brains are stepping in to process and make connections. This is the stage where the seeds are planted and the gardener is watering and making sure there’s enough sunlight, but, on the surface, at least, it doesn’t look like anything is happening.

Illumination

After we’ve gathered the necessary information and our brains have finished processing it, we’ll have a flash of insight, where suddenly we know exactly what needs to happen or how to solve the problem. At this point, the seed is a plant, and it’s just pushed through the soil. The fruits of the preparation and incubation processes are visible.

Verification

The verification stage is where we bring our ideas to fruition. This takes a conscious, deliberate effort. It’s where we re-work the scene. Compose the poem. Write the article. The plant is now growing into something amazing.

What stage are you in?

They're all crucial to the process, but without verification, what was the point?

Action Required.

Be Brilliant!

~Katie~