Category Archives: Motivation

Maslow’s Hierarchy of (Fictional Character) Needs

You may have heard of Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs, but have you thought about how that hierarchy might apply to the characters in your stories?

An excellent post by author K.M. Weiland inspired me to write about this topic. I encourage you to read her post, too.

As a refresher, Abraham Maslow published a paper in 1934 titled “A theory of Human Motivation.” In it, he postulated that people are motivated in stages by various categories of needs. Moreover, he thought the more basic needs must be satisfied before a person can be motivated by higher level needs. If circumstances change and a more basic need becomes unsatisfied, the person drops back down the hierarchy.

Most often, you’ll see this hierarchy depicted as a pyramid. However, a succession of overlapping curves more accurately reflects Maslow’s theory. A person doesn’t just step up the levels of a pyramid, but rather moves through a series of waves.

Fictional characters have motivations and needs like real people. Maslow’s theory applies to them, too. If your character is practicing to be a concert pianist (Self-actualization), and her house catches fire, it’s more realistic to have her run to save herself (Physiological need) than to remain at the piano.

When creating characters for a story, I write down both their motivation and goal in my notes. Think of these two things this way: a goal is a specific thing you want; a motivation (or need) is why you want it.

Here are my listed motivations for some characters in my stories, along with how Maslow might have categorized them:

  • Hototo, from “Broken Flute Cave.” Motivation: to maintain traditions of the tribe, to keep connections with ancestors, and to sustain music.  Maslow’s categorization: belongingness and love needs.
  • Edgar Allan Poe, from “Reconnaissance Mission.” Motivation: to find order, rationality, and discipline in all things. Maslow’s categorization: self-actualization. (Poe’s needs shift during the story to basic survival—physiological needs.)
  • Brother Eilmer, from “Instability.” Motivation: Knowledge. Maslow’s categorization: self-actualization.
  • Lani Koamalu, from “The Cats of Nerio-3.” Motivation: to finally outsmart the Artificially Intelligent character or at least prove its equal. Maslow’s categorization: esteem needs. (Lani’s needs shift during the story to basic survival—physiological needs.)
  • Johnny Branch, from “After the Martians.” Motivation: adventure, making a difference in the world. Maslow’s categorization: esteem needs. (Johnny’s needs shift during the story to basic survival—physiological needs.)

Here’s my takeaway—don’t get hung up on the details of Maslow’s hierarchy. It’s a theory, and many have criticized it. However, be aware that people (both real and fictional) can have many needs, and the needs can shift based on circumstances.

You should have a good understanding of your characters and their needs. To have sufficient conflict in your story, the needs of the protagonist should differ from (and be in conflict with) the needs of the antagonist. Whether these characters’ needs fit into Maslow’s hierarchy is not really important.

Needs form the basis of goals. The pursuit of goals drives behavior (speech and action). Characters with opposing goals result in conflict. The behavior of characters as they deal with the conflict moves the plot. At the story’s end, a goal is satisfied, or not, but the protagonist either learns something or dies in a meaningful way.

Those essentials of story-writing are far more important than strict adherence to a theory of human needs. You may find Maslow useful, but don’t feel bad if your story doesn’t fit his theory. Writing a good story is one of the primary needs of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

July 11, 2021Permalink

Creating Troubled Characters

Readers can be drawn to characters with mental troubles. All fictional characters have troubles, of course, since conflict is necessary to good fiction. But today I’m focusing only on characters with mental disorders.

Note: nothing in this post is meant to diminish or glorify the real problem of mental illness. People with such disorders should seek and obtain professional help, and there should be no stigma attached to that.

My purpose is to discuss how an author should portray a fictional character with a mental disorder. Anyone who reads books or watches movies knows that audiences are fascinated by such characters. Troubled characters ratchet up the conflict and drive the plot. They also give readers and viewers a glimpse into the complexities, wonders, and horrors of the human mind.

This week I attended a Zoom lecture by Loriann Oberlin, who writes fiction under the pen-name Lauren Monroe. Unlike me, she is an expert in psychology. Her talk inspired this blogpost, but everything in this post is my interpretation.

In her talk, Ms. Oberlin referenced the Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders, Fifth Edition (DSM-5). This book, published by the American Psychiatric Association, discusses disorders such as neurodevelopmental; schizophrenia spectrum; bipolar; depressive; anxiety; obsessive-compulsive; trauma- and stressor-related; dissociative disorders; somatic symptom; feeding and eating; elimination, sleep–wake; disruptive, impulse-control, and conduct; substance-related and addictive; neurocognitive; personality; and paraphilic; as well as conditions such as sexual dysfunctions and gender dysphoria.

Ms. Oberlin stressed the importance of doing your research so you can depict a particular mental disorder correctly. I’d amend that advice just a bit. It’s easy, when conducting research, to go down rabbit holes and research too much. So, learn when to quit doing research and shift to writing your story. If your character’s behavior and speech don’t exactly match some known disorder, don’t worry about it too much. The APA occasionally comes up with new ones.

Here are my suggestions if you wish to create a troubled character:

  1. You should include a backstory explaining the character’s behavior. You needn’t start the story that way, but perhaps work it in as a flashback. Did the disorder spring from one or more events in the character’s childhood?
  2. You need to reveal the character’s symptoms to the reader early and throughout. Remember to show, don’t tell, these symptoms.
  3. Is the troubled character the protagonist? If so, then some sort of change is required in the story. Perhaps the character takes steps to overcome problems caused by the disorder. Or maybe the disorder brings consequences for which the character must suffer. Perhaps the character struggles with the disorder, then finally comes to terms with it.
  4. If a different character is the protagonist, then the troubled character need not change, but your protagonist must change, perhaps by learning to accommodate the troubled character’s disorder.

Here are examples where I’ve used troubled characters in my fiction:

  • In “Ripper’s Ring,” Horace Grott is a loser, barely qualified for his job carting bodies to the morgue in London in 1888. He comes upon the legendary Ring of Gyges that enables its wearer to turn invisible. In time, that new-found ability turns Horace into a serial murderer—Jack the Ripper. The story is partly in Horace’s point of view, and partly in that of the detective tracking him down.
  • In “The Six Hundred Dollar Man,” Sonny Houston is a nice young man with virtually no negative traits, living in the Old West. After being trampled by farm animals, he’s given a steam-powered arm and legs by an inventive doctor. These superhuman abilities change Sonny and he descends into madness. The story is told from the point of view of the doctor, who comes to realize the consequences of his well-meant invention.
  • In “A Tale More True,” no character has a mental disorder, but I cite the story because Ms. Oberlin mentioned how ‘Munchausen Syndrome’ has been renamed ‘factitious disorder imposed on another.’ The famous fictional character Baron Munchausen, the one with such fanciful lies, appears in my story. The attention given to the baron’s tall tales inspires my protagonist, Count Federmann, to make his own trip to the moon.

Now that you’ve read this post, if you do write a story about a character with a mental illness and that story becomes a bestseller, and you’re invited to make speeches and give interviews, don’t forget to thank—

Poseidon’s Scribe

June 20, 2021Permalink

Raise the Stakes!

Does the current draft of your story seem uninteresting? Do you have to wake up your Beta readers after they get through the first page? Perhaps the stakes aren’t high enough.

Earlier this week, I attended an excellent Zoom talk by author Amber Royer called ‘Giving Everyone a Stake in the Story.’ That talk inspired this blogpost, but, as usual, I’m putting her presentation into my own words.

No, not even spelled right
Yes, a stake, but not the kind we mean

What, exactly, is a ‘stake?’ As a noun it has two meanings, the first being a stick or post driven into the ground, but we’re interested in the second meaning. One theory suggests that people in medieval Europe would wager on events (jousts or other contests) by placing bets on wooden posts—stakes. Over time, they referred to the bets themselves as ‘stakes.’

A stake, then, is the thing being risked, the thing that could be won or lost depending on an outcome of a future event.

What do the key characters in your story have at stake? If they aren’t taking some risk with a chance to win or lose something, your readers won’t care about them.

To have a stake, the characters must want something. The more important that thing is and the more they want it, the more interesting your characters will be. Stakes are tied up with motivations.

The thing your character wants could be tangible, like a physical object, or a job promotion; or it could be intangible, like love, status, or respect. Maybe it’s not something they want, but something they want to avoid, like humiliation, defeat, loss of self-respect, injury, death, etc.

Once you decide what your characters have at stake, think about how far they’re willing to go to get what they want, or avoid what they don’t want. Would your characters give up money, time, their reputation, their honor, a friendship, their life?

Stakes aren’t just for protagonists. Your antagonist needs a stake, too. Consider thinking about this even before developing your protagonist. What does your ‘bad guy’ want, and how far is she willing to go to get it?

Your story might also include a ‘Stakes Character.” This character personifies and represents what’s at stake for your protagonist. Often both the protagonist and antagonist strive for the Stakes Character, or want what that character has, but they use different means.

For example, in the movie Mary Poppins, George Banks is the protagonist. Mary Poppins is the antagonist, and the children, Jane and Michael, are the Stakes Characters. George thinks his career as a banker is what’s at stake, but really, it’s his role as a father. Mary opposes his focus on his career and works to make him realize being a good father is far more important. Seen in that way, they’re both fighting for the children.

Even your minor characters will have stakes. However, don’t let them steal the show away from the main protagonist/antagonist conflict.

How do you find out what’s at stake for your characters? Ask them. (Well, not out loud if you’re in public—that would seem weird.) Ask tough, deep questions. Think about their answers and let those deep, personal confessions influence how you write about those characters in the story.

Amber Royer credits editor Donald Maas with categorizing stakes as Personal, Public, or Ultimate. Personal stakes are inside, usually unknown to the world. Public stakes are known and often shared. If the protagonist fails, more than that one character would be affected. Ultimate stakes are the really deep ones underlying all other motivations. They’re at the end of the ‘why?’ chain of questions. They’re the ones you’d give your life for. A single character can have one, two, or all three types.

If your story is tedious or dull, or the characters seem flat and lifeless, raise the stakes! Give them something more to win or lose. Make them willing to risk more. If that doesn’t work, ask yourself how you’d write your story if you were more like—

Poseidon’s Scribe

June 13, 2021Permalink

End of the Story

…and they lived… Well, how exactly does the story end? Some time ago, I discussed rules for writing endings, but today let’s explore various ways stories can end.

I did a little research, and writers agree there are only five or six possible story endings. However, they each have their own categorization methods, so there may be well over six, even after counting for overlaps. (In each case, I’m simplifying their lists for brevity.)

For example, author C. Patrick Schulze categorizes endings by the protagonist, the goal, and the protagonist’s state of mind:

  1. Attains goal (happy)
  2. Attains goal (sad)
  3. Doesn’t attain goal (happy anyway)
  4. Doesn’t attain goal (sad)
  5. Realizes goal was flawed (doesn’t care)

Scott Francis categorizes in terms of the protagonist, the goal, and things greater than the goal:

  1. Attains goal (happy)
  2. Doesn’t attain goal (sad)
  3. Attains goal, but loses something greater (classic tragedy)
  4. Sacrifices goal for something greater
  5. Ending is ambiguous or bittersweet (literary fiction)

A blogger known as NDRW postulates these five more plot-centric endings:

  1. Happily ever after
  2. To be Continued…
  3. Learn something
  4. Deux Ex Machina
  5. Sorrowfully ever after

Dean Elphick’s six endings are different, but also plot-based:

  1. Resolved Ending
  2. Unresolved Ending (to be continued)
  3. Implied Ending (ambiguous, often unsatisfying)
  4. Twist in the tale (surprise)
  5. Tie-Back (ending foretold at beginning)
  6. Crystal Ball (months or years later/epilogue)

The Write Redhead cites writer Michael Orlofsky’s six ending types (mostly character-based):

  1. Death Ending
  2. Recognition Ending (learn something)
  3. Framing with Recognition (cyclic, return to beginning)
  4. Surprise/Revelation Ending
  5. Journey Endings (protagonist starts a new journey)
  6. Response to Theme (need to balance emotional and intellectual power)

These various bloggers and writers may differ in how they categorize ending types, but they do concur that endings must flow naturally and logically from the story.

I also think they’d all agree you should spend a lot of time getting the ending right. Take the same effort you did in coming up with the perfect beginning hook, to make sure you’ve ‘nailed the landing,’ as Michael Orlofsky put it.

If you’re unsure how to end your story, look over the list above, read the blogs I’ve linked to, and write a few different endings. Your optimum story ending should emerge from that effort.

Now, with the perfect ending to this post, I’ll close with my characteristic sign-off, as—

Poseidon’s Scribe

January 17, 2021Permalink

Why You Bound Out of Bed

The reason you scramble out of bed each day, wide-eyed and raring to go, is simple. You’ve got things to do. More specifically, you have goals to achieve. As Snuffy Smith always said, “time’s a’wastin’!”

What’s that? You don’t bound out of bed? You (shudder) don’t have any goals?

Hoo boy. We’ve got to talk.

There is enormous power in the practice of committing to goals. There are also numerous side benefits for you, incidental to achieving the goal itself.

I’ll offer two examples from my life. Many years ago, my younger sister called me; she was excited because she’d decided to train for, and run, a marathon. Prior to her call, I’d given no thought to running a marathon myself. After that brief phone call, I was committed.

I registered for the Marine Corps Marathon in Washington D.C., at that time about nine months in the future. I bought a book about training for a marathon and followed its plan, including maintaining a running log. Often during that year, I thought I’d never be ready in time. However, I knew the Marines were unlikely to postpone their race just to accommodate me. Still, I ran and finished the race.

As a second example, I recognized, about a year ago, that June 20, 2020, will be the 150th anniversary of the publication of Jules Verne’s Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea. I set a goal of launching, on that exact date, a sesquicentennial anthology honoring Verne’s novel. I’ve never co-edited an anthology before, but goals should push you outside your comfort zone, beyond your known limits. They should be big, audacious, and grand.

Cover image for 20,000 Leagues Remembered

So far, progress toward that goal has been good. Things are proceeding well. We’ve received wonderful stories and look forward to publishing the anthology on time.

Enough about me. What about your goals?

According to this article by Anya Kamenetz, there are mental and physical health benefits to setting and achieving goals. A University of Toronto study showed performance in school improved for all ethnic groups and genders of students who wrote down and worked toward goals.

When you decide to set a goal, I believe it’s important to write it down, not just memorize it. Performing that simple act:

  • Cements the goal and affirms your commitment to it;
  • Gives direction and meaning to your actions;
  • Paints a picture, a vision, of the future to which you aspire;
  • Creates an urge within you that prods you to achieve daily progress and nags you when you fall behind;
  • Helps you overcome setbacks, laziness, disenchantments, and obstacles;
  • Provides immense satisfaction when every milestone and the final goal are met;
  • Boosts confidence in your ability to achieve; and
  • Spurs you on to setting a new goal after each achieved one.

What’s that you say? You have a problem with the entire ‘goal’ concept? You say you don’t set goals anymore because you feel bad about yourself when you fall short?

Well, you may not achieve all your goals. I haven’t met all the goals I’ve set either. But you shouldn’t beat yourself up over failures. Missing a goal doesn’t mean you’re a bad person.

Learn what you can from that failure and set another goal. Consider a smaller one, easier to achieve. Celebrate when you achieve it. You’ll build your confidence one win at a time.  

Pretty soon you’ll be bounding out of bed each day, just like—

Poseidon’s Scribe

May 17, 2020Permalink

Talkin’ ‘Bout My Generation Project

Humanity just doesn’t go in for long-term projects anymore. The fire at Notre-Dame de Paris cathedral this past Monday got me thinking about projects that extend beyond a single human lifetime.

The French are determined to repair their beloved medieval church. Estimates of the duration of repairs range from five to twenty years or more. Those timeframes would have astounded the laborers who built it. They needed 182 years to finish the cathedral.

That sort of project duration was typical for cathedrals of the period. It seems we’re no longer accustomed to ‘generation projects.’ We’re used to completing large structures (buildings, dams, tunnels, bridges, etc.) in spans of less than thirty years.

Imagine what it took to build something that required centuries. The original planners, designers, and workers knew they’d never see the completed work. The designers passed on their plans to others, and hoped the enthusiasm for the project would carry through. Laborers in the middle years worked on a project they didn’t originate and knew they’d never finish. Only the final generation of workers lived to enjoy the project’s culmination.

As an engineer with some program management experience, I marvel at such long-term projects. As a fiction writer, I try to understand the motivation behind them. How did builders sustain the guiding vision generation after generation? Let’s explore some historical generation projects, proceeding from most recent to oldest.

Temple Expiatori de la Sagrada Família. When finished, this will be a Roman Catholic Church in Barcelona, Spain. Begun in 1882, the project encountered difficulties including war and fire that delayed it, though it’s due to complete in 2026, fully 144 years after its start.

Saint Basil’s Cathedral. Begun in 1555 in Moscow, this church took about 123 years to complete in 1678.

St. Peter’s Basilica. This Italian Renaissance church stands in Vatican City. Construction began in 1506 and ended in 1626, 120 years later. Construction delays included difficulties with its immense dome and a succession of architects redesigning it, among them Michelangelo and Raphael.

Leaning Tower of Pisa. This cathedral bell tower in Pisa, Italy was doomed from the start of its construction in 1173, as it stood on unstable subsoil and started to lean. The difficulty of compensating for that lean was only one of the factors delaying its construction. War with other Italian city-states was another. Despite these setbacks, builders completed the project after 199 years, in 1372.

Notre-Dame de Paris. The fire on April 15 reminded us all that all of humanity’s creations are subject to damage, and fire is perhaps the biggest threat to wooden structures. Construction of this medieval Catholic Cathedral began in 1163, and was mostly done by 1260, but modifications continued until 1345, a total of 182 years.

Angkor Wat. According to one source, the building of Angkor Wat (in what is now Cambodia) began in 802 in the Khmer Empire and completed in 1220, taking 418 years. It started as a Hindu temple and later became a Buddhist one.

Temple of Kukulcan. Also called El Castillo, this Mayan step pyramid, built as a temple to the god Kukulcan, stands in the ancient city of Chichen Itza in what is now Mexico. Construction started in the year 600 and continued in phases to 1000, a duration of 400 years.

Great Wall of China . On my list of generation projects, the Great Wall boasts the longest duration. One site dates its start as 400 B.C. and its completion as 1600 A.D., or two millennia. Ordered by the emperors of various dynasties including the Qin, Han, Qi, Sui, and Ming, the guiding vision seems to have been protection against raiders from the northern steppes.

Stonehenge. Now we come to the oldest generation project on my list, a Neolithic structure in England begun around 3100 B.C. and completed around 1600 B.C. The builders left no records, and the structure’s purpose is unknown. Theories include a burial site, an astronomical observatory, ancestral worship, a symbol of peace and unity, and a place of healing.

From the above list, we can see that, with the exception of the Great Wall and possibly Stonehenge, religion provides a strong motivation for embarking on and sustaining a long-term project. Also, it’s generally true that these projects took a lot longer than originally planned, encountering various disruptions and delays along the way.

If we graph the timeline of these generation projects, it’s clear the timeframes are shortening, likely a result of advancing construction techniques and laborsaving machinery.

Given the faster pace of modern construction, have we lost the ability to plan and accomplish long-term projects? Could we sustain the enthusiasm of a building project over centuries, as our ancestors did?

If we desire to build megastructures on a planetary or stellar scale someday, things such as terraformed planets, Shellworlds, Niven Rings, Dyson Spheres, and others, it’s likely we’ll have to reacquire the multi-generational mindset of those who came before us.

To sustain a project of that type we’d need a motivating spirit, a shared vision as powerful as the ones (like religion or protection) that inspired our predecessors.

Alternatively, we could work on extending the human lifespan. A career length of two thousand years, sufficient to oversee the entirety of the Great Wall, seems like a fine notion to—

  Poseidon’s Scribe

April 21, 2019Permalink

Do You Know the MacGuffin Man?

What is a MacGuffin, do you want one in your story, and if so, how do you incorporate one? Read on to find out about this literary term.

MacGuffinSimply put, a MacGuffin is the protagonist’s goal. It can also be the goal of the antagonist as well. Perhaps they’re both pursuing it, or seeking to prevent the other from having it. It can be a tangible object, or an abstract idea.

Examples of MacGuffins in literature and film include the falcon figurine in Dashiell Hammett’s The Maltese Falcon, the witch’s broomstick in the film “The Wizard of Oz,” and the Golden Fleece in Apollonius Rhodius’ epic poem “Argonautica.”

Some stories have more than one MacGuffin, and characters seek them in sequence, one after the other. This is common in fantasy stories and fantasy games. Multiple MacGuffins are termed plot coupons.

A character’s goal (the MacGuffin) is different from a character’s motivation. As author Starla Criser explains, a goal is what you want. A motivation is why you want it. We’re mostly talking about the goal here, but it’s important that you convey to the reader that your character has a good reason to pursue that MacGuffin.

There remains some confusion over the term MacGuffin. In the Wikipedia article, director Alfred Hitchcock seems to dismiss it as unimportant—“The audience don’t care.” Director George Lucas disagrees, saying viewers should care about the MacGuffin as much as they do the main characters.

Author Michael Kurland resolves this confusion well in his article about MacGuffins. He says it’s important for the writer to establish why the MacGuffin is vital to the character early in the story. Regardless of the reader’s actual feelings about the MacGuffin, it’s vital that the reader understand its importance to the character. After that point, writers should emphasize the plot and the characters to give life and vitality to the story, and the MacGuffin can fade in significance.

The Wikipedia article states that the protagonist’s pursuit of the MacGuffin often has little or no explanation. I can understand little explanation, but none? The reader has to know the reason for the character’s hunt; otherwise, why should the reader care about the character at all?

Now you know the answer to the question I posed in the title of this blog post. Yes, you do know the MacGuffin Man. He lives in Literury Lane, of course! Address all complaints about bad puns to—

Poseidon’s Scribe

September 4, 2016Permalink

The Well-Written Villain

Villains, or antagonists, have come a long way. During the history of literature, they may have evolved even more than heroes, or protagonists. We’ll discuss that evolution, and show you how to create a well-written villain for your story.

A villain is a character opposed to the protagonist, who is usually cruel and who may be involved with crime. Not all stories have villains. The word ‘villain’ comes from the same root as ‘villa’ and once simply meant ‘farmhand.’ Only later did the word get loaded down with evil connotation baggage.

VillainFor centuries, when much of literature served the purpose of inculcating morality, authors portrayed villains as one-dimensional characters devoted to pure evil. Writers made it easy for the reader to distinguish the villainous characters from the good ones, by appearance, speech, and actions. Authors provided no reason for the villain’s malevolent nature, nor were such reasons expected. The villain was just bad, that’s all.

Then a change occurred in literature, and villains evolved. From the timing, I associate it with the advent of psychology, the study of the human mind and behavior. I may be wrong about that linkage, but it makes sense to me.

Since the early- to mid-Twentieth Century, it has not been enough to portray a villain as purely evil, without explanation. Gone are the black cape, the curled moustache, and the menacing sneer. (Well, maybe you can use such a stereotypical character for comedic effect.)

The modern villain starts out as a normal person, indistinguishable from any other character. Something happens to that person; a disturbing event triggers a change in the way they think. (Rather than a single event, the character could be raised from childhood in a peculiar way, but then that way must have an explanation.) The character twists the event, obsesses about it, and it becomes a driving factor for later behavior.

As this happens, the villain may not change in outward appearance, so he or she will be indistinguishable from other characters. This warping toward villainy occurs only in the antagonist’s mind. The resulting villain will likely have many good, even endearing, traits, all while harboring a secret inner drive toward nefarious ends.

While writing your story, you’ll need to convey this explanation for your villain’s behavior, even if it’s backstory. No modern reader will accept a character who is evil ‘just because.’

Moreover, the chain of events must lead to the villain being opposed to the hero. The protagonist and antagonist are a matched set. Often, the villain’s desired ends have nothing to do with the hero, but the hero becomes the irritant the villain must deal with to achieve his goal.

To ensure your story is interesting and to give your protagonist a worthy problem to solve, the villain must be at least as smart and powerful as the hero. Your hero must strive beyond his or her own perceived limits, and suffer nearly insurmountable hardships to overcome the villain. But neither can your villain be invulnerable. You should depict your villain as being on a quest of his own, contending with problems where not all of his machinations work all the time.

In preparing this post I studied, and villainously stole from, other wonderful posts on this topic, including this one on wikiHow, the Wikipedia article on ‘Villain,’ and Hallie Ephron’s article in Writer’s Digest. I encourage you to read each one for more in-depth information.

Now you should be ready to create your own villain. With this blog post finished, I can get back to my fiendish scheme to take over the internet! Bwa-ha-ha-ha! Soon the entire world will bow down to—

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 7, 2016Permalink

Giving and Receiving…Critiques

‘Tis the season for giving and receiving, so I thought I’d discuss critiques of fiction manuscripts.  Last time I did so, I said I’d let you know how to give and receive critiques.  My critique group meeting 2experience is based solely on twenty years of being in small, amateur, face-to-face critique groups; not writing workshops, classes, or online critique groups; so the following advice is tuned to that sort of critique.

First of all, to give the critique, keep the following points in mind:

  • Read the submitted manuscript straight through once, and just note where you were “thrown out of the story” for some reason.  Jot down why and come back to those points later.
  • Re-read the manuscript again. You could mark some of the grammar or spelling problems, but don’t concentrate on those.  The author wants you to find the bigger stuff.
  • Where there are stand-out positives (“Eyeball kicks” in TCL parlance) note those and praise the author.  The word critique should not have solely negative connotations.  A positive comment from you could keep the author from later deleting a really good description, metaphor, or turn of phrase.
  • Be clear and specific in the comments you write; avoid ambiguity.
  • Look for the following story elements and comment if they’re not present or they’re weak:

1.  Strong opening or hook

2.  Compelling, multi-dimensional, non-stereotypical protagonist with human flaws

3.  A problem or conflict for the protagonist to resolve

4.  Worthy secondary characters, different from the protagonist, who do not steal the show

5.  Vivid settings, not overly described

6.  Consistent and appropriate point of view

7.  Appropriate dialogue that moves the plot and breaks up narration

8.  Narration that shows and doesn’t tell.

9.  A plot that builds in a logical way, events stemming from actions that stem from understandable motivations

10.  A story structure complete with Aristotle’s Prostasis, Epitasis, and Catastrophe (beginning, middle, and end)

11.  Appeals to all five senses

12.  Active sentence structure, using passive only when appropriate

13.  Appropriate symbolism, metaphors, similes

14.  A building of tension as the protagonist’s situation worsens, followed by brief relaxing of tension before building again

15.  An appropriate resolution of the conflict, without deus ex machina, resulting from the striving of the protagonist, and indicative of a change in the protagonist

  • If your group shares comments verbally, do so in a helpful, humble way.

You think all that sounds pretty difficult?  Ha!  It’s much harder to receive a critique.  When doing so, here are the considerations:

  • Submit your work early enough to allow sufficient time for thorough critiques.  Be considerate of your group members’ time.
  • While being critiqued, sit there and take it.  No comments.  No defensiveness.  Just listen to the honest comments of a person who not only represents many potential readers, but who wants you to get published.

So, when it comes to critiques, is it better to give than to receive?  In contrast to most gifts, it’s harder to receive them, but it’s still a toss-up which is better overall.  But perhaps both are just a bit easier for you to deal with now, thanks to this post by—

                                                      Poseidon’s Scribe

December 30, 2012Permalink

Heinlein’s Rules

In his 1947 essay “On the Writing of Speculative Fiction,” science fiction writer Robert A. Heinlein stated five rules for writing fiction.  Here they are:

1. You must write.

2. You must finish what you write.

3. You must refrain from rewriting, except to editorial order.

4. You must put the work on the market.

5. You must keep the work on the market until it is sold.

He went on to say that he didn’t much fear the new competition he’d face from putting these rules out in the open, since he figured half of those who claim they want to write won’t complete step 1, and half of the remainder wouldn’t finish step 2, and so on.  Those of you working out the math should forget it–all those halves are just approximate.

Heinlein’s rules are repeated all over the web and there has been much criticism of them.  Some have said they sound too harsh, like Drill Sergeant Heinlein is shouting all those “MUSTs.”  To those folks I’d ask–If your aim is to get your work published, which of those steps do you think you could skip, or kinda half-do?  Really.  Look back over them and tell me which rule could be softened in its wording.

The main criticisms target rule 3, “You must refrain from rewriting, except to editorial order.”  Some assume Heinlein is telling writers to send their first draft out on the market.  I doubt Mr. Heinlein meant that.  I think rewriting the first draft until it’s acceptable is implicit in rule 2: “You must finish what you write.”  It’s not likely to be really finished after a very rough, rapidly-scribbled first draft, even though you’ve reached “The End.”  Heinlein means that you must declare the work finished and then refrain from the temptation to waste time endlessly trying to perfect the work, unless an editor has asked for revisions and you agree to them.  As Heinlein also said elsewhere, “They didn’t want it good, they wanted it Wednesday.”

My own quibble with the rules concerns their order.  As written, they are single steps to be executed in sequential order.  The only loop in the process is within the final two steps, which basically say to send the manuscript out, and when you get a rejection, send the work–unchanged–to another market that same day.  So if all the other steps are in sequential order, Rule 3 makes no sense as written. You haven’t sent the work out yet, so how could you have received a request from an editor for a rewrite?  I say Rules 3 and 4 should be swapped.

The great writer Robert J. Sawyer has suggested adding a 6th rule, “Start Working on Something Else.”  This is likely aimed at those who think their first story will make them famous and so wait breathlessly for word from the editor about acceptance or rejection.  If you’re truly a writer, you can hardly wait to tackle the next project, so that’s when you start it.  Unfortunately, Rule 6 would then be the only one focused on some other, next work while the rest of the rules concern a single story.  Still, I concur with the intent, though I might have phrased it as, “Think of another story to write and go to step 1.”

I like Heinlein’s Rules.  I think their commanding tone is a stentorian call summoning you to action and perhaps to greatness.  Don’t think of them as overly harsh commandments that doom you to misery for the slightest deviation.  They’re an invitation; get out there; don’t talk about it–do it!  And they’re also a promise; follow these rules and you will get published.  It’s hard to think of more inspiring words for a beginning writer.

Please let me know what you think.  Also, remember that Heinlein wrote his rules about 65 years ago.  Perhaps 65 years from now people will still be debating words written by–

                                                                      Poseidon’s Scribe

 

January 29, 2012Permalink