Writing Rules - Steven R. Southard (Poseidon's Scribe)

Home » Category Archive: Writing Rules

Break Any Rule but This One

Are you one of those who’d like to write a story—a novel, even—but the task seems too difficult? You recall unpleasant memories of Language Arts classes, learning all the complex rules of English. You’re afraid you’ll break a rule.

I’ll simplify things for you. There’s only one rule.

There exist, however, a vast number of guidelines. These cover spelling, grammar, punctuation, sentence structure, plot, pacing, character development, story formatting, manuscript submitting, and more. A lot to keep track of.

Or not.

For every guideline you name, at least one famous author ignored it:

Don’t use double negatives. Jane Austen didn’t not use them.
Don’t use run-on sentences. Both Charles Dickens and Marcel Proust thought otherwise, going on and on with long sentences on many occasions, long past the point of necessity.
Don’t begin sentences with conjunctions. But William Faulkner did.
Always set off dialogue with quotation marks. Cormac McCarthy and José Saramago said no thanks.
Use periods and commas where required. James Joyce and Gertrude Stein both famous writers got along okay without them
Use proper punctuation. Samuel Beckett never did and Junot Díaz never does

How come you had to learn all those guidelines, but famous authors get to violate them? For one thing, guidelines help when you’re learning to write. Also, the guidelines make your writing more understandable to readers. They’re getting what they expect, what they find easy to read.

It’s okay to violate a guideline, but you shouldn’t break the One Rule.

What’s the One Rule?

Here it is: Tell a good story.

That’s it. Or rather, that’s the simplest expression of the One Rule.

What is a ‘good story?’ From a writer’s perspective, I’d say a good story comes from deep within. The writer cares about the story and feels a strong need to tell it.

If the writer does that job well enough, then a good story (1) draws a reader in, (2) keeps a reader reading, (3) leaves a reader changed, and (4) lingers in the reader’s mind long after reading it.

If you write a good story, it doesn’t matter how many guidelines you violate.

Let’s say you’re in the middle of writing a story. Words are flowing, straight from your heart. You’re in the zone.

You stop. Some inner editor, some memory of a Language Arts teacher, or some recollection of an authoritative website’s advice, berates you for breaking a rule. Looking back over your manuscript in horror, you realize it’s true. You’re a language criminal. The linguistic police will apprehend you and send you to writer jail.

Before the law can close in, you hide the evidence. You change the story, bringing it into compliance with the rules. From somewhere inside, a rebel voice protests, “now you’re making the story worse.”

As you look over what you’ve edited, it’s clear. The voice is right. The story is worse. Not what it was meant to be. As if the story itself wants you to break a rule. Your story demands it.

What to do? Well, many things that seem like hard and fast rules are really just guidelines. If obeying them would worsen your story, ignore them.

That last part—that ‘if’—is key. Violate a guideline only after consideration, not out of ignorance.

Just don’t break the One Rule. Tell a good story. In the pursuit of that goal, you may violate any other guideline, with the full permission of—

Poseidon’s Scribe

May 22, 2022Poseidon's ScribePermalink

Engineers Can’t Write

My college degrees are in engineering and my career was in an engineering field. I’ve never received a degree in writing or literature. Now I write fiction. Is that even allowed?

At one point in my career, I had a boss who’d say, “Engineers can’t write.” He was, of course, referring not only to fiction, but also the sort of nonfiction engineers must write—specifications, instructions, memos, emails, etc. It pleased him that I was an exception, but daily experience with others only proved his rule 99% correct.

Not many engineers write fiction as a spare-time hobby, but I did, and now it’s my sole retirement job. I believe stories written by engineers often suffer from common deficiencies that make their stories unappealing to editors and readers. These deficiencies result from the rigorous thought processes of the engineering mindset. In particular, engineer-writers:

emphasize things, particularly human-made things, not people or emotions;
focus on actions, not internal motivations; and
over-explain, in detail, how gadgets work.

The essence of engineering is problem-solving, and engineer-writers often pen stories in which the protagonist solves a complex problem. The problem tends to involve things, not people. The story often glosses over the protagonist’s emotions and desires. The feelings of other characters, if mentioned at all, involve amazement or admiration for the brilliant main character.

An Engineer’s Guide to Writing Fiction

Perhaps you’re an engineer who wishes to write fiction, but hasn’t been successful yet. Here are some pointers:

Think of ‘success in writing’ as you would any engineering problem. The end objective is to create a manuscript that maximizes the emotional response and enjoyment of end users (readers). These readers may not think like you. The only raw materials at your disposal are words.
Keep in mind what readers care about and what all classic fiction emphasizes—characters. Show your readers what your characters dream about and long for. Show readers your character’s fears, vulnerabilities, feelings, and doubts.
When writing fiction, you’re leaving your neat and logical world of machine parts, where rigid physical laws and mathematical equations govern how materials and subsystems interact, where you work within the laws of nature to benefit people. You’ve entered the infinitely more complex and messier world of human emotion, motivation, and fantastic imaginings.
It’s fine to include machines and vehicles in your tales, but go light on the descriptions. Pick a few key details to mention, just enough to give an impression and let readers imagine the rest. You don’t have to explain how it works; trust readers to go along for the ride. How your characters feel about the machine is more important than the machine itself, so describe it through their thoughts.
You didn’t learn engineering in a day, and writing good fiction is no different, no less complex. You’ll have to learn the craft. Read fiction within and outside your favorite genre. Read books about writing. Go to writers’ conferences. Join a fiction writing critique group.

Now that I think about it, I believe my former boss was wrong. Engineers, like you, can write. Not only can you write good fiction, you will. Many others have, and since I followed their path, you can follow—

Poseidon’s Scribe

May 30, 2021Poseidon's ScribePermalink

6 Things You Need to be a Successful Writer

In this post, author Mike Swift claims there are six things a successful writer needs. If you don’t already have these things, can you buy them at the store?

Here are the six things on his list:

A desire to be heard;
Life experience;
A way with words;
Perseverance;
Luck; and
Hard work.

I don’t see much to quibble about on his list. I was tempted to add Time, but if you have a desire to be heard, you’ll find time.

For now, let’s accept his list as accurate. Right now, you’re looking back over the list and checking off the items you have, and your tally is coming up a little short of six. So is mine. Now you’re asking: how do I get the ones I don’t have?

A Desire to be Heard. Perhaps you don’t have this. Or, more accurately, you don’t think you have this. Remember, at some point in your life, you had something important to say and everybody in the room was ignoring you, intent on something else. Think back to that feeling. You do have something to say, and it’s high time the world listened up.

Life Experience. Mike Swift equates this item with ‘having something to write about.’ He wasn’t implying that you have to be old or retired to write. In my view—and, I’m guessing, in his, too—even teenagers have sufficient life experience to write about. I think everyone over the age of thirteen can check this one.

A Way with Words. This might be the biggest stumbling block for most folks who’d like to write someday. They read the classics and think, “I could never write like that.” I suggest looking at it a different way. True, you could never write like [insert favorite author name here], but that author couldn’t ever write like you either. Perhaps you’re not looking for A Way with Words, but Your Way with Words. Moreover, this item pretty much gets checked off with practice. You’ll find your voice the more you write.

Perseverance. So you’re the type who gives up at the first setback. Can you learn perseverance? Yes. First, remember day follows night; that lowdown feeling of failure never lasts forever. Second, recall your Desire to be Heard; that might translate to a goal you can push for. Third, visualize your future self achieving that goal; visualization is a good motivation method. Fourth, realize you don’t have to do it all in one day; take bite-sized steps so you can get back on track and reward yourself for achieving those small tasks. Those things will help you persevere.

Luck. This might seem the one item on the list you can’t control. Luck just happens, right? Maybe. But if we examine the careers of the luckiest authors out there, we’ll likely find they’re also the ones who work hardest and persevere. Maybe we’ll find they’re open to new experiences, fresh ideas. In short, maybe, for them, luck didn’t just happen. They made it happen. Maybe you can, too.

Hard Work. Ooh. The difficult one. Can we skip this? I’m afraid not. However, for a writer, ‘hard work’ is not the same thing as it is for a bomb disposal expert, a brain surgeon, a skyscraper scaffold worker, or a firefighter. Folks in those professions might be willing to swap their job for the ‘hard work’ of a writer. Besides, these six things overlap, so if you have a Desire to be Heard and a little Perseverance, you’ll be willing to work hard.

Maybe you’ve rethought your tally and now can claim you have all six things. Success is in the bag now, right? Well, not so fast. These things aren’t like on/off switches where you either have them or you don’t. Each is a matter of degree. If you’re not a successful writer yet, it could be that you lack one or more of the six things to a sufficient extent.

To achieve success in writing, you need to keep working to improve all six items, not just the ones you’re weak in. In this struggle for self-improvement, you’re not alone. There’s at least one other—

Poseidon’s Scribe

May 16, 2021Poseidon's ScribePermalink

Top Ten Rookie Writer Mistakes

You have to start somewhere, and everyone’s a rookie in the beginning. However, readers these days have plenty of choices, so there’s no need to wave a red flag advertising you’re a newbie. Avoid the mistakes common to novices and your work will stand out.

Author Anne R. Allen wrote an excellent post about this and I encourage you to read it. What follows is my shorter and rearranged version.

I took Ms. Allen’s ten-item list of common mistakes and reordered them, starting with the errors I make less frequently, and ending with the blunders I still struggle with the most. I also put them in my own words.

10. Imitating Tom Swift. “Said” is a perfectly fine word and your audience will read right over it. Don’t substitute a different word for ‘said’ or add an adverb, as in Tom Swifty jokes. (“I’ll stand back aft,” Tom said sternly. “Let me darken that text in again,” Tom remarked.) In fact, don’t overdo the dialogue tags themselves. Often, you don’t need them. (No offense to Tom Swift. I’m a big fan.)

9. Taking God’s View. First person point-of-view is no longer typical, and can confuse readers. Best to stay in Third person POV, and make it very clear when you’re moving to a different character’s POV.

8. In Our Next Episode… All the chapters of your novel, or the sections of your short story, must contribute in a logical way to the plot of the whole tale, such that it’s an integrated work, not a string of separate, poorly related scenes.

7. Starring in Your Own Story. Give your characters distinctive personalities, quirks, motivations, and styles of speech. None of them should think or talk like you, or like some imagined, perfect version of you.

6. Forgetting Your Language Arts Classes. English isn’t an easy language, but if you want to be a writer, you need to know it well. Spell words correctly; use correct grammar; select words with precision. Build your vocabulary, but don’t overdo the thesaurus.

5. Starting As Others Do. Try to find a way to begin your story that isn’t overused already. In particular, if you start with a character waking up, consider a different beginning.

4. Writing to Brag. Get to the action. Cut your long, lovingly crafted descriptions. Delete, also, the arcane literary references, and don’t begin chapters with fancy quotations.

3. Making it (Too) Real. Cut out unnecessary dialogue that doesn’t further the plot. Delete scenes that transport a character from one place to another with nothing really happening on the trip. Don’t have your character overthink a decision, considering all the pros and cons; skip to the deciding part.

2. Using a Whole Lot of Words When Only a Few Are Necessary to Your Story. Don’t pad your tale with extra words. Don’t insult your readers by repeating yourself. Delete the needless adjectives and adverbs.

And the top rookie writing mistake (at least for me)…

1. Dumping Your Info and Explaining to Bob. It’s so tempting to convey all the backstory early on, so the reader understands how the characters got where they are. Instead, sprinkle in those details bit by bit within action scenes, to keep your plot moving. Also, avoid the unrealistic, over-explanatory dialogue that’s termed As You Know, Bob (AYKB).

Just because it is your first novel, doesn’t mean it has to read like a first novel. Don’t make the mistakes listed by Anne R. Allen, and you’ll stand a better chance of success. Take it from a former rookie who’s made many of those mistakes—

Poseidon’s Scribe

December 2, 2018Poseidon's ScribePermalink

Are Your Stories Antifragile?

That’s no typo in this post’s title. Antifragility is a thing, and today I’m discussing the concept as it applies to fictional stories.

In his book Antifragile, Things That Gain From Disorder, Nassim Nicholas Taleb asks if there is an antonym of the word “fragile.” If there were such an adjective, he’d say it describes things that become stronger when stressed.

He doesn’t mean words like ‘robust,’ ‘tough,’ or ‘resilient.’ Those words describe things that sustain shocks without damage. He wants to describe things that improve their resistance to stress by being stressed. Lacking a ready word, he coined the term ‘antifragile.’

Can a story be antifragile? To answer that, we should consider the things that impose stresses on stories. These include criticism in negative reviews and mocking satire.

What would it mean for a story to become stronger? If it meant that the story became more widely read, more popular, with increased sales, then an antifragile story would be one that suffers negative reviews or even satire and yet its sales increase.

Are there any such stories? If I recall correctly, Nassim Taleb offered the more popular plays of William Shakespeare as examples. For four centuries, those plays have endured bad reviews and been mocked, but they are performed far more often and in more languages and formats than they were in Shakespeare’s time.

From an author’s point of view, antifragility seems like a wonderful property for a story to have, especially the increasing sales part, right? If you wanted to write an antifragile story, and perhaps lacked the skill of Shakespeare, how would you go about it? Are there tangible attributes of such stories? Is there a checklist to follow?

I hate to disappoint you, but there’s no checklist. Further, the only authors who really understand what it takes to make a story antifragile…well, they’re dead. That’s because stories don’t really demonstrate that property to the greatest extent while the author is alive.

Still, being me, I’ll take a crack at it, because I like a challenge. Here is my proposed checklist for making your stories antifragile:

Create complex and compelling characters. They need to seem real, with strong emotions and motivations, with goals to attain, with difficult inner problems to surmount, and with bedeviling decisions to make.
Appeal to every reader. That may be impossible to achieve in a single story, but in your body of work you should include characters of many types, in diverse settings. Include rich and poor, young and old, introvert and extrovert, city and country, etc.
Explore the eternal truths about the human condition. You know many of these eternal truths—we’re born, we grow up, we have parents, we learn to relate to others and even fall in love, we have disagreements and conflicts with others, we become curious about the nature of our world, we deteriorate with age, and we die. When I say to ‘explore’ these truths, I don’t mean to write a philosophy book. Write a fictional story that entertains, but causes readers to ponder those deeper truths after reading it.
Execute your story with style, flair, and creativity. Yeah, right. Simply do that. This one is hard to implement, but I’ll suggest some thoughts. Look for ways to turn a phrase well. Create a new word that English lacks but needs. Write in a manner that stands out, such that readers could identify your unique voice from a couple of paragraphs chosen randomly from your stories.

Okay, it’s not really a checklist where you mark off each item in turn: done, done, done. It’s more of a guideline with concepts to aim for. Who knows if it’s even accurate? After all, I’m not dead yet (as I write this), so I can’t possibly know.

Still, it’s intriguing to think that one day, readers may consider your stories to be antifragile, and when scholars trace it back, they’ll discover you learned how to do it from—

Poseidon’s Scribe

May 7, 2017Poseidon's ScribePermalink

5 Rules for Writing Humor Right

You may think it’s difficult to write funny stories, but the truth is it’s excruciatingly agonizing. Also, if you endure all that pain and get the humor wrong, readers will laugh at you (and your mismatched clothes and uncombed hair) rather than at your story.

Since humorous writing is so tough to get right, why don’t we forget the whole thing? For one, if we can manage to tell a funny story, readers like it. An amusing tale lifts them from the gloomy tedium of their dreary lives, the poor things. Think of it as a public service, kind of a ‘clown-author saves the world’ idea.

I know, I know. I hear you saying, “But, Steve, I write serious fiction. I don’t need to know how to write humor.” Okay, surf elsewhere if you want. But you really should spice up your “serious fiction” with occasional bursts of frivolity, if only to break up the interminable stretches of seriousity.

For those still reading this, I’m about to reveal my five simple rules for writing humor. Well, they’re not that simple, and aren’t actually rules, but at least they do total up to five. To develop them, I scoured the Internet (and it needed a good scouring). Then I spent literally lots of minutes searching for good advice on writing humor. I found that good advice from Brian A. Klems, Joe Bunting, Annie Binns, and Joe Bunting again. While blindfolded, I then chose only the choicest rules, right up until I got tired. After five. Here they are:

1. Maintain the elephant of surprise. Take common sayings or clichés and tie them in knots. Go in directions the reader doesn’t expect.

B. Dare to ask why pants come in pairs. Start with the ordinary, the mundane, the familiar, and the everyday, then find some weird aspect about it all. Look at it from a bizarre angle. Drive your reader to that vantage and invite her to look, too. (Note, “Hey, Babe, let me drive you to my bizarre-angled vantage to look at my weird aspect” is not a recommended pick-up line. Ever. It’s a metaphor.)

III. It’s still legal to discriminate against words. Choose words carefully. Unearth a thesaurus and examine its guts. Select specific words, not general ones. Seek words that sound humorous when juxtaposed. (I think the word ‘juxtaposed’ is kinda funny all by itself.)

Four. It’s a story, not a routine. When a comedian performs a stand-up routine, he feels free to change topics several times. You can’t do that. Your story must hang together as an integral whole, not consist of disconnected jokes. I blogged once about how some movies do that well and some do it poorly.

7. No, sorry—5. Wait for it… Structure your sentences so the last words have the most impact. Ideally, the joke is in the very last word. Develop a comedic sense of timing so that you’re not rushing to get to that ending punch. Let your sentences roll along, lulling the reader, and then swing your sledgehammer. (Metaphor again.)

If you study those five rules carefully, I can guarantee that…well, that you’ve studied them carefully. You’re going to need a lot of practice to actually write funny stories, and so will—

Poseidon’s Scribe

January 15, 2017Poseidon's ScribePermalink

13 Ways You’re Writing Wrongly

Inspired by K. M. Weiland’s wonderful post, “How Not to Be a Writer: 15 Signs You’re Doing It Wrong,” I decided to make my own list.

My list differs from hers, since it’s borne of my own experiences. Moreover, I’m sure there are plenty of unlisted items I’m still getting wrong, that hinder me from greater success.

Arranged in rough order of the writing process, here are a baker’s dozen ways you’re writing wrongly:

You’re not actually fitting one word up against another. In other words, you’re not writing any fiction. Maybe you’re easily distracted, doing too much research, talking about being a writer while not writing, or just intimidated by the prospect. Doesn’t matter. If you’re not writing, you’re never going to be a writer.

You bought your limousine and mansion before the advance arrived. Let’s set some realistic expectations here. Most likely, you’re going to labor in obscurity for a while, probably years. First time best-sellers are very rare. Heck, best-selling authors themselves are rare. Only a tiny percentage of writers support themselves with their writing.

You’re copying someone else’s style. After all, (you’re thinking), if it’s working for James Patterson, J.K. Rowling, Nora Roberts, John Grisham, etc., then it should work for you. Inconvenient fact—readers already have a Patterson, Rowling, Roberts, Grisham, etc. Create your own style.

You’re sure the rules don’t apply to you. I’m talking about those pesky rules of English and the rules of literature, stuff like spelling, grammar, and story structure. All those rules are for mere plebeians, not you, right? Actually, you’re really supposed to know them. As for always following each rule to the letter, see item 5 on my list.

You obsess about following the rules. You’re now a walking dictionary and could qualify to teach English at Harvard. You chiseled the rules onto granite tablets and now pray before the tablets twice daily. Why are your stories not selling? There’s an overarching rule you forgot—you’re supposed to write stories people want to read. If some rule of writing is keeping you from telling a great story, break the rule. Just don’t go too far (see item 4).

You quit before “The End.” Around the world, desk drawers and computer file directories bulge with half-finished stories. If you would be a writer, you must finish your stories.

Your epidermis is on the thin side. In other words, you don’t take criticism well. The most mundane comment from someone in your critique group or from an editor will either set you off in a bout of inconsolable sobbing or high-minded ranting at the imbeciles that surround you. Get a grip. They’re not attacking your personal character; they’re trying to help you improve your story.

You inhabit a world that’s just too slow to recognize the wonder that is you. How frustrating that must be, to cast your gaze at the mortals about you and see them not bowing before the genius in their midst. Well, genius, here’s a word you might look up: patience. Recognition, if it’s to come at all, will come in time.

You revise edit reword amend change adjust vary redraft alter rephrase modify wordsmith rewrite your story endlessly. Sure, that story will be perfect once you work on it a bit more, just add this and delete that, change the POV character, throw in some better verbs and adjectives. It seems like it’s never quite right. True, it never will be perfect, but it could be good enough.

You defy Submission Guidelines. What’s with all these editors, anyway? Each one has a particular format for story submissions, and each format is different. That’s too much trouble for a great writer like you. Your story is so superb the editor will overlook how you flouted a few guidelines, right? Nope, wrong again. Obey those guidelines.

You never click ‘Submit’ or ‘Send.’ That’s because if you do, some editor might actually see your precious story, might read it, and might not like it. Better to keep your story safe with you, in your home, where nobody can ever criticize it. Uh…no. Show your baby to the world. It will be okay.

Rejections are reasons to revise edit reword…rewrite your story. An editor has rejected your story, perhaps even explained why. To you, that’s a sign you must rewrite it before it can be good enough to submit elsewhere. No. Go ahead and submit it elsewhere immediately. (However, if an editor rejects your story but says she’ll accept it if you revise it in a particular way—ah, that’s the sign that you should rewrite and submit it to her again.)

You’re relaxing after submitting a story. There, you just sent your story on its way. Now you can kick back and wait for the acceptance, the contract with the six-figure advance, the launch party, the book tour, and the TV interviews. Sorry, no. You’re supposed to be a writer. Start writing your next story already.

Avoid those pitfalls and you’ll be on your way to becoming a published writer. Best wishes in all your writing efforts, from—

Poseidon’s Scribe

December 25, 2016Poseidon's ScribePermalink

What Do Editors Want, Anyway?

Most beginning writers, especially those who’ve suffered a few rejections, wonder about the answer to this post’s subject question. What do editors want? What Editors Want

I can’t pretend to speak for all editors. I’ve not reached the point where all my stories get accepted. I’ve never worked as an editor myself.

However, a few years ago, one editor* gave me his answer to that question, and it’s a good one. He wrote, “I’m a stickler for a story having not only a clear protagonist, antagonist, and plot, but a resolution of the plot (in which the protagonist participates) and a change in the protagonist on some level. I like stories that, as Twain once said, ‘accomplish something and arrive somewhere.’ Most accomplish nothing and arrive nowhere. It’s dreadful to read through an otherwise good story and have it end without ending.”

Let’s accept that as a working proposition and break it down.

Clear protagonist. The reader shouldn’t have to wonder who the main character is. I believe the editor chose the word ‘protagonist’ rather than ‘hero’ since the main character need not be particularly heroic.
Clear antagonist. Stories must have conflict. There must be some entity against whom the protagonist struggles. The antagonist need not be a person; it could be nature or the environment. Once again, once finished with the story, any reader should be able to name the antagonist.
Clear plot. By this, I believe the editor was saying the story must portray events in a logical order. The events must relate to the conflict and follow each other with a clear cause-and-effect relationship. Some events will escalate tension and others will relieve it. Overall, there needs to be a gradual buildup of tension until the resolution.
Plot resolution in which the protagonist participates. The resolution is that part of the plot where the conflict is resolved (the bad guy is defeated, the two people fall in love, the protagonist overcomes a character flaw, etc.). It’s important that the protagonist take action to bring about this resolution and not be some bystanding witness to the action. Note: the word ‘resolved’ does not imply happily or favorably. Resolution of the conflict could be accomplished by the protagonist’s death or other defeat.
Protagonist changes on some level. If your protagonist is the same person at the end of the story as she was at the beginning, the reader will wonder what the point of the story was. The clause ‘on some level’ refers to the fact that conflicts are generally classed as external (bad-guy antagonist or unforgiving environment) or internal (character flaw, irrational fear, grief, unreasonable guilt, psychological problem, etc.). Many stories impose both internal and external conflicts on the protagonist. For internal conflicts, the change should be an overcoming of the condition, or at least hope of such problem solving. For external conflicts, the protagonist’s change is generally a maturation of some kind.
Story accomplishes something. This is part of the Twain quote, and is a restating of points 4 and 5. The plot and conflicts must resolve and the protagonist must change. A great way for a story to accomplish something is if it says something useful about the human condition.
Story arrives somewhere. By this, I take Twain to mean that the story must end at an appropriate point, not before the conflict resolution, and not too long afterward.

Save your editor some time, and save yourself another bout of rejection-grief. Check if your story meets all of the above criteria before submitting it. If it doesn’t, it’s not ready.

Of course, even if your story does meet these criteria, that’s no guarantee of acceptance. Who can pretend to know what all editors want? Certainly not—

Poseidon’s Scribe

* Note: the editor who wrote that is David M. Fitzpatrick, of Epic Saga Publishing. He accepted one of my stories for an upcoming Epic Saga anthology. David has gone into more detail about what he looks for in submissions; see this wonderful blog post here, which includes some great writing exercises, too.

July 10, 2016Poseidon's ScribePermalink

8 Rules for Writing The End

Writing the ending of your story can be as difficult as coming up with its opening lines. After all, the ending is the part that will (or should) linger in your readers’ minds. It’s important to craft an ending that satisfies, intrigues, and leaves readers hungry for your next book.

What should you do to create a memorable and striking ending? Here are 8 rules to follow, distilled from great posts you should also read by Dee White, James V. Smith, Jr., Brian Klems, Crista Rucker, Joanna Penn, and the folks at Creative Writing Now and WikiHow:

Resolve the story’s main conflict(s). Even if the external conflict isn’t fully resolved, the protagonist’s internal conflict should demonstrate growth in that character.
Ensure the final events result from the protagonist’s actions and decisions. For better or worse, the hero must bring about the ending, not stand by and watch it happen. Do not allow a Deus Ex Machina.
Strive for an ending that’s inevitable, yet unexpected. I’ve always found Beethoven’s music to be like that. “Yeah,” you’re asking, “but how do I do that?” Take the expected ending and give it a twist; that’s how to give readers something they don’t expect. The way to make that ending inevitable is to go back and drop foreshadowing hints into the story. If these hints are subtle, then your ending can be both inevitable and unexpected.
Allow only a brief resolution after the story’s climax. The end should be a rapid relaxation of tension as I depicted here.
The end should refer to story’s theme, but not be preachy like a morality play.
If you’re unsure how to end your tale, write several draft endings and either choose the best one, or combine elements from two or more of the best. You may end up with as many drafts of the ending as you wrote for the beginning hook.
You needn’t fully wrap up all the story’s loose ends (except those pertaining to the protagonist and the main internal conflict), but they should be addressed or hinted at.
The end should reflect back to beginning, but in a spiral manner, not a circular one. By that I mean that things can never be as they were in the beginning of the story; too much has changed. By referring back to the beginning, that will emphasize this change to the reader.

Adherence to these rules should help you end your stories in a manner satisfying to your readers. At last, riding off into the sunset on his amazing rocket-powered pen, goes—

Poseidon’s Scribe

March 20, 2016Poseidon's ScribePermalink

13 Rules for Writing Fight Scenes

Conflict is central to fiction. Not all conflict is violent, of course, but at some point, one of your stories might require a fight scene. Therefore, even if it’s distasteful to you, it’s best if you learn how to write such scenes.

Fight Scenes Violent interactions can take many forms beyond individual combat. These include war, rape, terror, shooting sprees, etc. This post focuses on fights between two characters, but many of my suggestions apply to other situations.

People use a variety of weapons when fighting, including bare hands and feet, clubs, knives, swords, guns, any object available in the environment, and a wide array of science fiction or fantasy weapons. Again, most of the guidelines for fight scenes are general, and applicable to any weapon type.

For the following list of fight scene rules, I drew from, and combined, ideas from the following people’s blogs: Joanna Penn, Angela Bourassa, Amber Argyle, and the contributors to Wikihow. They’re all great sources of information, and I recommend you read each one. Now, here’s my list:

If possible, observe a real fight. Note offensive and defensive movements, tempo, exploitation of speed vs. strength, etc.
Study fictional fight scenes written by great writers. Pay attention to details selected, sentence structure, word choices, and techniques used to heighten tension.
Ensure your scene is relevant to, and advances, your plot.
Consider using the fight to reveal or further develop the characters’ personalities, and maybe the story’s theme. My favorite example of this is the “wizard’s duel” in the Disney movie The Sword in the Stone. During their fight, Merlin and Madam Mim are each turning themselves into various animals. Madam Mim’s animals emphasize power and strength; Merlin’s emphasize cunning and intelligence. The superiority of brain over brawn is the lesson Merlin has been trying to teach young Arthur, and is the major theme of the movie.
Ensure you’ve established that both characters have appropriate motivation. Why is each one fighting? What does he or she hope to gain by winning? That helps the reader care about the outcome.
Break up the lunges, punches, slices, gunshots, etc.—the mechanics and logistics of the fight—with short dialogue or description to keep from boring the reader. When using dialogue, skip the ‘said.’
Don’t overdo the description of the fight itself; trust the reader’s imagination to fill in such details.
Use short sentences, with few adjectives or adverbs.
Weave in all five senses in the fight, to put the reader there.
Show the Point of View character’s thoughts and emotions as the fight goes on. This is as important as the description of the fight itself.
Ensure your word choices and detail selections are appropriate to the genre and your intended audience. A fight in a military thriller must be accurate, believable, and authentic. A fight in a romantic adventure should focus on the POV character’s feelings.
Don’t forget about the aftermath of the fight, how much the POV character hurts, his or her feelings about the opponent, thoughts about whether the fight was worth it, etc.
In subsequent drafts, cut to the minimum.