Writing Performance Review for 2024

My boss chews me out this time every year. He’s ornery, demanding, harsh, and knows me too well. He’s me.

The Scorecard

Time to assess my writing for 2024. As in past years, I’m using The Writer’s Performance Review scorecard by book coach, Jennie Nash.

To use this scorecard, you rank each attribute from one to five. One = below expectations. Two = partially meets expectations. Three = meets expectations. Four = exceeds expectations. Five = far exceeds expectations.

You’re comparing actual performance during the year to expected performance. If you performed as expected, you’d give yourself a three. If you scored three in all twenty attributes, you’d get 60.

My 2024 Performance and 2025 Plan for Improvement

As my assessment turned out, I got a 62. Mostly 3s, but also one 5, six 4s, four 2s, and one 1.

That 1 rating applies to “goal orientation” and I’ll do more in 2025 to set and meet numeric goals, though I’m mindful of the dangers of becoming too data-driven.

I’ve also committed to some corrective actions in the areas rated as 2:
•   Organization and Planning – I’ll use the Pomodoro method with more consistency to manage my time.
•   Genre Knowledge – I’ll read more books in my genre, study the common attributes of those books, and learn about the most popular authors.
•  Target Audience Knowledge – I’ll write a blogpost about who I think my ideal readers are and how that knowledge could improve my writing, then implement what I’ve learned.
•  Strategic Thinking – I’ll seek influencers, if any, of my target audience, and find ways to connect with that audience.

Writing Accomplishments in 2024

As for writing accomplishments this year, I:
•   made good progress on the third draft of novel number one;
•  finished the first draft of novel number two;
•  finished co-editing a critique group anthology, Ain’t Our First Rodeo, (with three of my stories) and got it published;
•  completed two rounds of edits on my upcoming short story collection, The Seastead Chronicles, and am hoping for its publication early in 2025;
•  wrote and published 48 blogposts (so far);
•  got a short story accepted for another anthology to be published in 2025;
•  wrote an article for a club magazine;
•  made good progress on the first draft of a mostly factual travel book;
•  finished compiling my late father’s collection of over 900 vignettes and got them printed in two volumes for private distribution; and
•   wrote nine poems for personal enjoyment.

Most employers and employees keep annual performance assessments private. I display mine to the world as a service to other writers. May all of us who scribble words have a successful 2025. That’s the New Year’s wish of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

The Barbenheimer and Glickéd Approach to Novels

In 2023, the movies Barbie and Oppenheimer got released at the same time, and the simultaneity struck audiences as funny. A cultural meme exploded—”Barbenheimer.” Rather than competing for audiences, promoters of the films capitalized on the meme.

Now in 2024, the movies Gladiator II and Wicked spawned their own portmanteau—Glickéd.

What if this weird cultural phenomenon had happened with novels? What if the two best-selling novels for each of the last ten years got combined the same way and were promoted together?

My Method, With Caveats

Before I unveil my zany title combinations, a couple of quick explanations. Publishers don’t reveal hard data on book sales, so I used the number of weeks on the New York Times Bestseller List as my measure. This includes print and ebook sales. Best-selling books in any given year might have been published in a previous year. Sometimes I ran into ties for second place. In those instances, I picked one from among the tying books. Here’s my list:

2014

Gone Goldfinch,” from The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt and Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn.

2015

GreyGirl,” from The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins and Grey by E.L. James. Others that tied for second with Grey were Go Set a Watchman by Harper Lee and Rogue Lawyer by John Grisham.

2016

Me Girl, You Train,” from The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins and Me Before You by Jojo Moyes

2017

CamShack,” from Camino Island by John Grisham and The Shack by William P. Young.

2018

Great President is Alone,” from The President is Missing by James Patterson and Bill Clinton, and The Great Alone by Kristin Hannah

2019

Sing, Guardians!” from Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens and The Guardians by John Grisham. Others that tied for second with The Guardians were Blue Moon by Lee Child and The Institute by Stephen King.

2020

CrawDirt,” from Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens and American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins. Others that tied with American Dirt were Little Fires Everywhere by Celeste Ng, Camino Winds by John Grisham, The Vanishing Half by Brit Bennett, and Ready Player Two by Ernest Cline.

2021

Four Windy Dukes,” from The Four Winds by Kristin Hannah and The Duke and I by Julia Quinn.

2022

Where Crawdads End,” from Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens and It Ends with Us by Colleen Hoover.

2023

It Starts Fourth,” from It Starts with Us by Colleen Hoover and Fourth Wing by Rebecca Yarros.

Lessons

Maybe the publishing industry could learn something about promotion from Hollywood. Use the portmanteau idea in media blitzes for novels. Send the two authors out to book signings together. Bundle the books for sale in one package.

I’m no marketing genius, but perhaps there’s merit in this. If some advertiser wants to run with it, just remember to credit me with the idea. And get my name right. It’s spelled—

Poseidon’s Scribe

How Football Caused Thanksgiving

“Turn off the game,” my wife said. “It’s time for dinner.”

“But football is the main part of Thanksgiving,” I said. “Always has been.”

“What?” she asked.

Her question revealed a shocking gap in her historical knowledge. She really didn’t know about the centuries-long association between football and Thanksgiving. I explained it to her, but it occurred to me she might not be the only person whose history classes in school left out this important detail.

Well known to football fans, the tale of the first Thanksgiving might come as a surprise to some. Therefore, as a public service, I’ll repeat the facts here.

Pre-Game

In the fall of 1621, the pilgrims who’d traveled on the Mayflower and landed in the area that would become Plymouth, Massachusetts, longed for some vigorous physical activity. They invited the neighboring Wampanoag Tribe over for a sporting contest. Challenge accepted.

The pilgrims and tribesmen marked off a rectangular field between two cranberry bogs and declared the edge of the bogs as goals. A pilgrim woman noted the similarity of the field to her gridiron skillet, so she called the field a “skillet.” For some reason, the term “gridiron” stuck instead.

The players used an inflated pig’s bladder as their ball and called it the “pigskin.” Both sides chose one of their men to serve as a referee and they gave each man a black-and-white striped shirt to wear. The tribesman and the pilgrim referees didn’t know each other’s language, so they used arm signals to communicate.

The pilgrims considered the team-name of Wampanoag too hard to pronounce, so they called their opponents “Redskins.” The tribesmen preferred a different name, the “Chiefs.” In turn, the Wampanoag side suggested the team-names of “Raiders” or “Land Steelers” for the pilgrims. Instead, the pilgrims opted for the name “Patriots.”

First Half

Each team called plays audibly from the line of scrimmage, a safe practice since they didn’t know each other’s tongue. In time, some of the defenders picked up words for often-used plays, so before the snap the Chiefs circled for a pow-wow well behind the line to inform players of the play. The Patriots called that practice a “huddle” and began doing it themselves.

It became clear that the sixty-yard-long field didn’t provide enough challenge. By mutual agreement, they extended the field twenty yards into each cranberry bog. Soon those areas got trampled into crimson mud and they called each of those areas the “red zone.”

At one point, the Patriots failed to score a touchdown and, in anger, a player kicked the ball on fourth down. It soared over a crossbar between two upright posts of a partly built barn. The referees consulted and agreed the remarkable feat merited some kind of credit, so awarded the Patriots three points for a goal scored in the field. A “field goal.”

Halftime

They kept time with an hourglass and when it ran out, they declared a “half-time” resting period. Women from both sides stood in the field and sang for the crowd’s entertainment—the first half-time show. After that, the players returned to the skillet, er, gridiron and timekeepers turned the hourglass over.

Second Half

Spectators for both sides found their team responded to yelling from the sidelines. Women on each side worked to synchronize this shouting, and became the first cheerleaders.

With one quarter to go, and behind in points, the Patriots tried lining up the quarterback well behind the center. That way he could survey the field and pick out a favorable receiver as they scattered. They called this the “Fowling Piece Formation,” later changed to the “shotgun.”

With the score against them and the hourglass sand almost out, the Patriots tried a desperate play. Their quarterback attempted a long-distance forward pass toward the far-off end zone. Just after throwing the ball, he knelt and bowed his head, praying to God and Jesus and Mary that one of his receivers would catch the pigskin. This, the first of all “Hail Mary” plays, failed.

Post-Game

Despite losing 14-10, the Patriots declared it a well-fought contest and congratulated the winning Chiefs, meeting at midfield to shake hands. Both teams felt ravenous, so all the non-players whipped up a large feast to feed them, thankful for the day’s entertainment.

Thus, football started, not as mere accompaniment to Thanksgiving dinner, but the whole reason for it.

Sorry for repeating that often-told story but, remarkable as it seems, not everyone has heard it. Hoping you enjoyed a happy, football-filled Thanksgiving, I’m—

Poseidon’s Scribe

Why are Writers so Mean to their Characters?

Authors do awful things to their characters, don’t they? They burden them with intractable dilemmas, cause heartache, fear, misery, and depression, to say nothing of life-and-death peril, often resulting in bodily harm or death. If writers wreaked such havoc on real people, they’d be locked up.

Image generated at www.perchance.org

Advice from Authors

This past week, I attended a Zoom lecture given by author Jack Campbell. He said if you get stuck while writing, it’s often because you haven’t been mean enough to your characters. He said Mark Twain called it chasing your characters up a tree and then throwing rocks at them. (I can’t find the actual quote on any Twain site and it’s often attributed to others.)

I recall attending a writing class taught by the late author Ann C. Crispin. She told us, if you met your characters in real life, just walking down the street, they should want to punch you in the nose for what you’ve done to them.

The Reason

Why do authors mistreat their own characters? Does sadism explain it?

No, I don’t think so. I take no pleasure if tormenting my characters, and I suspect other writers feel the same way about theirs.

The answer lies with readers. I’m not reader-shaming here, just stating a fact. Readers take more interest in stories where characters suffer misfortune than in stories where they don’t. If the reading public preferred slice-of-life stories about characters enjoying a nice strife-free day, writers would cater to that need.

If you ask why readers prefer stories about suffering, and keep asking why, you’ll enter the realm of philosophy. I won’t venture far down that path, except to say we humans find ourselves living in an uncaring universe. We all want things, whether it’s an ice cream cone or world domination. Since the universe doesn’t cater to our whims, those unsatisfied desires cause us to struggle to pursue our needs. The struggle leads to suffering.

In other words, the universe treats us just as badly as writers treat their characters. Therefore, readers crave stories about characters grappling with problems and experiencing misfortune.

Degrees of Meanness

Many writers inflict physical pain on their characters, from bloody noses to broken bones and even death. Being mean, though, needn’t involve physical trauma. As often, or maybe more often, characters must endure mental anguish of some kind. They must suffer terror, grief, melancholy, distress, jealousy, rage, or any of hundreds of others.

The author control panel includes selector switches for characters, a thousand buttons for the type of suffering to impose, and a dial for the degree of discomfort, with a scale from mild to intolerable.

Is this Necessary?

I know this sounds twisted, brutal, and merciless. However, no real people are harmed in the creation of fiction. Moreover, the agony suffered by characters serves a purpose. Their survival, if they survive, gives readers hope. If the main character dies or otherwise fails to alleviate the suffering, that failure serves as a warning to readers—don’t do what that character did while alive. Some fault, some flaw in the character led to a deserved death.

You’ll find informative discussions about this by Justin Ferguson, the folks at MightyAuthor.com, and Jami Gold.

Be Nice Instead?

Perhaps you’d prefer to write a pleasant story, where nice people live in a nice place and do nice things to each other. You’re free to do so. It might even sell. You’ll have to craft your story so that readers remain interested somehow, attracted by your style of writing, or fascinated by the characters or setting such that they keep wondering what’s going to happen next.

That sounds difficult to pull off. Such a book wouldn’t meet reader expectations. Most often, they clamor for conflict. As author Veronica Roth said, “If there’s no conflict, there are no stories worth telling—or reading!”

I can’t find the citation, but I believe Isaac Asimov said that the task of the storyteller is to maximize the impact on the reader’s emotions. You’ll find it difficult to do that with out being cruel to your characters.

Cruel to be Kind

Think of it like the 1978 song, “Cruel to be Kind” by Nick Lowe. In this case, you’re being cruel to your characters to be kind to your readers. Since your characters can’t fight back and your readers pay for your books, that works to your advantage.

If you’ll excuse me, some fictional characters are due to get roughed up by mean ol’—

Poseidon’s Scribe

NaNoWriMo and Isaac Asimov

Every year, during November, thousands of budding authors take part in the National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). They’re using their spare time during these thirty days to write a novel.

NaNoWriMo Overview

That may sound impossible, but over 400,000 people will participate this year. Perhaps 20% of them will meet the requirements, to write 50,000 words in 30 days. When they’re done, they’ll feel immense relief in December and will relax after the strain of writing so much.

Of the “winners” (who don’t really win anything), many will edit their manuscript and some will see their work published. A handful might make some money from sales.

Purpose

If you scoff at the low success rate, you’re missing the point. NaNoWriMo aims to get you accustomed to writing fast, to spilling the words out. You can always go back and edit 50,000 words to improve the prose, maybe molding the manuscript into a suitable shape for publication. At least you have a first draft to work from, and that’s further than most wannabe novelists get.

Some Math

Simple division tells me a NaNoWriMo participant must scribble, on average, 1,667 words every day during November to accomplish the goal. That’s almost 1,700 words. Every day. Why does that wordcount number ring a bell?

Isaac Asimov

The brilliant and prolific science fiction author Isaac Asimov once said, “Over a space of 40 years, I published an average of 1,000 words a day. Over the space of the second 20 years, I published an average of 1,700 words a day.”

There’s that 1,700-word number again. Think about that. Long before NaNoWriMo even started in 1999, Dr. Asimov wrote the equivalent of a NaNoWriMo every month. For twenty years. That’s 240 NaNoWriMos back-to-back.

More amazing, he didn’t just write that much. Every word he wrote during those twenty years got published.

Dr. A’s Secrets

In achieving that, several factors worked in his favor, advantages you and I may lack.

  • He was a genius, and a member of MENSA. He earned a PhD in Chemistry from Columbia, and taught biochemistry. A polymath, he’s one of few authors who published high-quality, authoritative books in nearly every major category of the Dewey Decimal System.
  • He timed things well. Asimov enjoyed writing science fiction just when the reading public demanded more of it than authors could supply.
  • He wrote in a plain, unadorned style, typed ninety words a minute, and didn’t over-edit. Those traits allowed him to churn out words faster than most.
  • He benefited from a favorable snowball effect. (1) The more he wrote, (2) the better he got, (3) the more of his books got purchased by readers, (4) the more famous he got, (5) the more enthused he got about writing…back to (1) and around again. A positive-feedback loop.

Lessons for Us

Perhaps the rest of us shouldn’t compare ourselves to Dr. Asimov. On the spectrum from low-output to high-output, he breaks the scale at the high end, one of the most prolific writers of all time.

Still, if he were alive today, he might well ask, “What’s so special about November?” Why not do NaNoWriMo every month? Perhaps that positive feedback loop that worked for him would work for you, too, at least to some extent.

That may serve as the real lesson of both NaNoWriMo and Asimov’s success. Writing at breakneck speed means you write more, and in time, through practice, you may write better.

If you aspire to become a writer, try writing 1,700 words today. Should you fall short of that, at least try writing more tomorrow, and more the next day. When you achieve a daily wordcount of 1,700, keep going at that rate.

Try NaNoWriMo every month. Maybe you won’t get 500 books published, as Isaac Asimov did, but perhaps some measure of literary success lies in the future for you and—

Poseidon’s Scribe

Make Your Characters Distinctive

You populate your stories with a full cast of characters and expect readers to keep them all straight. Asking a lot, aren’t you? Today, I’ll explore ways to make that task easier for your audience, those kind folks who shell out money for your books.

Image created using www.perchance.org

Source Unknown

Though I try to credit my sources, I’ve misplaced the inspiration of this information. I subscribe to newsletters from DreamForge Magazine and one item from over three years ago prompted me to take notes. Now I can’t find the original newsletter. In any case, I’ve put the advice in my own words and added items to the list.

Pair Description with Action

You need to describe your characters, of course, and physical appearance plays to the primary sense—sight. You’d do well to appeal to the senses of sound and smell, too. But a paragraph weighed down with description slows the story’s pace. Consider sprinkling in the description verbiage with action. Examples:

  • “No!” Her long, brown hair swished as she turned and stomped away. “I won’t do it.”
  • Jake used his long arm-span to advantage, sweeping his knife to keep his adversary’s slashes out of range.

Be Specific

Edit out generalities and replace them with concrete terms. Appropriate similes and metaphors can serve you well here.

  • Instead of “He looked, in a word, handsome,” use “His physique would prompt Michelangelo to destroy David out of shame.”
  • Instead of “She was strong in every sense of the word,” use  “She could have bench-pressed a life-size marble statue, then won a stare-down contest with it.”

Use Revealing Traits

Often a character’s physical appearance or mannerisms can indicate a characteristic emotion or internal conflict. This falls in line with the “show, don’t tell” adage. The Emotion Thesaurus by Angel Ackerman and Becca Puglisi can aid you here.

  • Instead of “He seemed perpetually afraid,” use “He huddled in corners, sweating, trembling, and avoiding eye contact.”
  • Instead of “She looked okay, but I could tell something troubled her,” use “She paced back and forth, frowning, and running a hand through her hair.”

Provide Distinctive, Identifying Traits

Consider giving each significant character something that sets the character apart. It could be an unusual hairstyle, an item of clothing, a scar or other imperfection, an atypical gait, a characteristic gesture, an odd verbal expression, or anything in a near-infinite list. I won’t provide examples here, but you get the point. Every now and then, when that character appears in the story, mention that specific trait to jog your reader’s memory of that character.

Add a Weakness

Give your character a flaw, a weakness, a vulnerability. As a minimum, your protagonist needs one, if not all your major characters. Later in the story, let your antagonist test the protagonist’s weakness and exploit it in some way.

Don’t Forget Motivation

Give each major character a motivation. You may select from a large number of these, including love, revenge, greed, survival, etc. For your protagonist, consider showing why the character feels that motivation. Perhaps it springs from a formative childhood experience. That motivation should tie in to the protagonist’s goal. Don’t confuse goal with motivation. Goal is what you want. Motivation is why you want it. Together, the motivation and goal of the main character drive the plot along.

Assign the Right Name

Spend some time thinking of the right name for your characters. I’ve blogged about this before. An unusual name can set a character apart and help a reader remember the person. A common name can identify the character as an “everyman.” Two characters with similar names, especially with the same first letter, can cause readers to mix them up. Names that resemble a word can help a reader associate a character with that word, whether the word is appropriate for that character or diametrically inappropriate. You can also use the syllabic rhythm of the name (first-last or first-middle-last) to suggest something about the character.

If you apply the above techniques, you might create characters almost as distinctive as—

Poseidon’s Scribe

Story Versus Craft, in a Cow Pasture

We’ll consider story and craft first, then relate them to a cow pasture.

Impetus

Image generated on www.perchance.org

I read Craft in the Real World by Matthew Salesses, hoping to learn to become a better writer. The book’s second half helped with that. The first half, which I read first, differed. It enumerated a list of grievances with a writers’ workshop that the author attended.

To understand the gist of his complaint, let’s start with definitions.

Story

For our purposes, let us define a ‘story’ in broad enough terms to encompass all human cultures across all human history. We could say a story is a text narrative featuring one or more characters in one or more settings, in the course of which, one or more events occur.

Craft

Craft, we’ll say, is the way a writer writes a story. It includes the techniques the writer employs, the story aspects the writer emphasizes, the words the writer chooses, etc.

The Universal and the Particular

We’ve defined ‘story’ in a universal manner so it includes campfire tales told by prehistoric tribes, Gilgamesh, The Story of Tambuka, Romance of the Three Kingdoms, and King Lear. ‘Craft,’ by contrast, varies across cultures and time periods. A particular technique, word cadence, or plot structure might resonate in one country but not another, one century and not another.

Controversy

A difficulty might arise when a writers’ workshop or Master of Fine Arts (MFA) course teaches craft suited to its culture, but a student accustomed to another culture’s craft attends.

That occurred when Matthew Salesses, a Korean-American, attended the Iowa Writers’ Workshop. To him, the workshop seemed too prescriptive, too intolerant of other approaches.

My Take

Never having attended the Iowa Writers’ Workshop, I can neither validate nor dismiss Salesses’ experience. That workshop, founded in 1936, produced graduates who went on to earn Pulitzer Prizes, Booker Prizes, National Humanities Medals, and MacArthur Fellowships. Five graduates went on to become U.S. Poets Laureate.

Matthew Salesses has written six books and dozens of essays, been named one of thirty-two Essential Asian American Writers, and received multiple awards and fellowships for his writing. He runs his own graduate-level workshops in creative writing.

Perhaps the Iowa Writers’ Workshop had been teaching craft suited for modern-day tastes of U.S. readers. Perhaps Salesses found that approach too rigid and inflexible, based on his experience with Korean literature. If so, his dissatisfaction appears understandable, despite the success and staying power of the workshop.

As I’ve noted, though, craft changes, often based on reader whims and sudden fads. A given formula works well for a while, then readers tire of it and it becomes stale. A different kind of novel catches on, perhaps one from a foreign country, or one written in a foreign style, or a nostalgic return to a previous style from long ago. Other authors then write in that vein to capitalize on the trend, to catch the wave. In time, that style fades in its turn, soon replaced by another.

Why do these fads, these literary waves, occur? The fickle nature of readers doesn’t explain it all. I suspect some influential readers, eager to experience fresh books, seek something unusual, find it, and enjoy its newness. They see beyond craft to the underlying story. They spread the word, sparking a trend.  

The Cow Pasture

Permit me a silly, Iowa-based simile. Think of story as a cow pasture, one of vast size with grass growing in every acre. Readers are the cows, gathering to devour grass/stories in a particular area. We’ll call that particular patch of grass the craft. In time, the cows consume the grass in that place, and have deposited cow-pies there, rendering that grass less desirable.

One cow moves on, finds a fresh patch with tall, tasty grass and begins munching there. Other cows notice and join the loner.

The process continues, cows moving from zone to zone. They drop fertilizer as they go, so previously grazed parts grow and become fresh again later.

Takeaway

Writers generate stories. They grow the grass, but don’t control the cows. Writers can create stories using currently successful craft. Or they can write stories outside that craft and hope a straying cow notices and draws the herd. A writer might dislike the popular and crowded area, and might fume that his favored grass zone attracts no cows. But cows go where they go.

Hey, cows! Over here! The tastiest grass is grown by—

Poseidon’s Scribe

Select Your POV Character in 6 (or 7) Steps

You’re planning to write a story, but you don’t know whose point of view (POV) to tell it in. Author K.M. Weiland wrote a wonderful post on the subject, and I suggest you start there. I’ll wait here while you read that. The rest of my post supplements hers.

Credit to www.perchance.org for the images

List the Contenders

Weiland’s 6-step process starts with identifying the contenders. You could choose any character in your story, or even select an omniscient, god-like POV.

Winnow Down the List

Next, Weiland suggests you think about which contenders matter least to the story’s drama. For example, a servant or guard who rarely speaks and whom you’ve only included for authenticity—a ‘spear carrier’ in literary lingo—makes a less useful POV character.

Rate the Stakes

In the next step, you consider each character’s stakes. What do they lose if they don’t get what they want? You’ll get more dramatic impact from characters with the most to lose.

What Type of Narration?

Choose from among first person (I/me), second person (you), third person (she/he), and omniscient (god-like). I’ve written about these before.

Pitch Your Tense

Most writers chose past or present. In past tense, she ran, she sat, she said. In present tense, she runs, she sits, she says. More stories use past tense, but you may choose either one.

Final Auditions

After going through the above steps, you might still face a choice between more than one possible POV character. Weiland suggests you write a few paragraphs of the story in each of the remaining contenders’ POVs. They don’t know it, but they’re auditioning for the POV role. Choose the one with the most interesting voice, the one who tells your story best.

One More Consideration

The post by K.M. Weiland addresses all the above points better than I have, but I’ll add another thought. Nothing limits you to one POV for an entire story (though in flash fiction, you should restrict yourself to one).

You might choose a different POV for each chapter, or even each scene. As you do so, use the same six-step process mentioned above in selecting the appropriate character.

Also, make transitions between POV characters clear to the reader. In the first sentence of a section with a new POV character, include a thought, or a feeling, or both, from that character. That alerts the reader about the POV shift.

Of course, throughout the literary world, experts agree the very best point of view is that of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

Ain’t Our First Rodeo

Once again, some stories of mine got published. The anthology Ain’t Our First Rodeo: Another Fort Worth Writers Anthology just came out.

They roped me into co-editing this anthology, the third for which I’ve served in an editorial capacity. With any luck, another geological epoch will pass before I edit another one.

We wrangled a lot into this volume. Altogether, seventeen authors contributed eighty-six works, including poems, essays, chapter excerpts, and short stories. They hogtied every mood, topic, style, and tone you can imagine, and then some you can’t imagine.

As a rule, I don’t put my own stories in anthologies I’m editing, but, well, it’s more of a guideline than a rule. You’ll find three of my short stories cluttering this book.

“Voyage of the Millennium Quester”

A time-traveling duo ventures back to record the most incredible astronomical sight in history. If they’re not careful, the dumber one of the pair might mess things up.

“Weathervane Wally”

A Texas farmer claims his weather-forecasting armadillo surpasses Punxsutawney Phil in prognosticating prowess. Can he prove that to a Pennsylvania TV reporter?

“Bringing the Future to You”

Doctor Edison Thornwhipple couldn’t see anything in Doctor Rachel Clairvaux’s crystal ball, but what she saw changed the next ten minutes…and the world. First published (with some text differences) in the anthology Cheer Up, Universe!

Y’all can lasso your own copy of Ain’t Our First Rodeo here and get a good roundup of stories by—

Poseidon’s Scribe

3 Tips for Compelling, Shareable Writing

Everyone who creates an online post, tweet, or meme hopes it goes viral. That occurs when others read it, like it, and share it. Viral posts often contain three key attributes. Do these same attributes apply to fiction in general?

Author, speaker, and producer Shane Snow blogged about these attributes and gave them an easy mnemonic to remember—FIN.

Image courtesy of Pixabay

Fluency

The F in FIN stands for fluency. Snow means this in the sense of smooth, flowing prose, rather than familiarity with a language. He advocates plain, easy-to-understand writing.

Go for a low number in the readability index. Don’t force readers to wade through flowery phrases to grasp your meaning. Shorter words, sentences, and paragraphs make life easier for your readers. Read your writing aloud to check for awkward phrases or other stumbling points and edit as needed.  

Identity

Here, Snow refers to how well the reader identifies with the characters or topic. To engage readers, connect with universal themes and struggles.

Give readers something familiar to latch onto. Often, novels begin in a familiar setting to orient readers to an identifiable locale—home, office, neighborhood, etc. They give characters commonplace problems readers can relate to. Having grounded the reader in a familiar place, the novel can then launch into the unfamiliar.

Novelty

Speaking of the unfamiliar, Snow includes novelty as the final third of the acronym. We call them novels for a reason. Be bold and creative. Strike off in a new and different direction.

Take an old idea and give it a fresh twist. They say there’s nothing new under the sun, but ‘they’ haven’t read your book yet.

Putting FIN Together

Shane Snow focused on FIN as a technique for giving your social media posts and memes a better chance of going viral. Fiction stories can be sharable, too, in the sense that fans get a buzz going and that increases sales.

For a short story, novella, or novel, consider applying these attributes in reverse order–NIF. First, think of a new and fresh thing to write about. Then, begin your story by giving readers something to identify with. Last, as you edit, work to keep your prose clean and fluent.

Soon, you’ll FINish a wonderful, sharable tale, thanks in part to Shane Snow and—

Poseidon’s Scribe