Time for introductions. When writing fiction, you often must present a character to readers for the first time. As the saying goes, ‘first impressions are the most lasting,’ so make each a good one.
In this post, the team at NowNovel lists six ways to introduce characters to readers, and provides great examples of each from literature. In my post here, I’ll give you my own spin on this topic. Here are the six methods mentioned by NewNovel:
Methods
Relate Backstory. Here you provide a character’s past history, a form of ‘origin story,’ to establish and explain personality and motivation. Take care not to drone on too long, or the info dump could bore readers.
Discuss Reputation. In this method, you cause a known character to think or talk about an unknown character before arrival. That way readers get to know the new character in advance, from another’s point of view.
Show Action. Depict the new character engaged in an activity. The reader then identifies the character with a specific hobby, job, or characteristic gesture or movement.
Encounter Dilemma. You might show a new character struggling with a decision, on the horns of a dilemma. This reveals that character’s vulnerabilities, helps readers sympathize, and moves your plot along.
Introduce Self. In this method, the character speaks to the reader in a ‘Call me Ishmael’ way. Simple and direct.
Present Description. Here the author describes the new character so the reader forms a mental impression.
When to Use
Each method presents opportunities and challenges. You can even use some of them in combination with others. The first and sixth, if too long, can cause readers to lose interest in the characters and lose respect for the author. The second method works well for introducing antagonists, or any character with an air of mystery, and can built tension. You might reserve the third method for action-oriented characters, or those for whom their job or hobby dominates their lives. The fourth method also creates tension and works well for characters whose later decisions impact the plot, especially the ending. As for the fifth method, that works well early in first person novels where your protagonist narrates the story.
If you use the sixth method, consider descriptions beyond the sense of sight. Show readers the character’s scent, and maybe a sound, perhaps a sound other than a spoken voice. Remember, too, that these two senses work when out of sight, around corners, etc.
How to Decide
For your major characters, you may have written summaries (possibly called portraits or biographies) that include detailed descriptions. The summaries help you envision vivid characters with realistic aspirations and motivations. You’ll sprinkle data from these summaries throughout the novel, and may repeat some items for emphasis, and probably won’t use some facts at all. You’ll keep these summaries at the ready as you write the story, to ensure you keep facts straight and stay consistent.
As you create the summaries, give some thought to how you’ll introduce each character to the reader. In each case, which method of introduction best serves the story? If a particular introduction, once written, feels wrong, re-write it using one or more different methods and select the best. By ‘best,’ I mean the method you judge as the optimum for creating a memorable impression on the reader, and advancing (or not slowing) the plot.
Now, get back to writing. You’ve got a lot of characters to deal with, and a world of readers anxious to meet them. As for me, well, you know me already. Call me—
Your personality type determines how you write and what you write. Sorry, but that’s a proven scientific fact (says the guy who’s not an expert on personalities, science, or writing for that matter).
In last week’s post, I cited Lauren Sapala’s claim that two Myers-Briggs personality types seemed most suited to pantsing (writing without an outline), rather than plotting. That got me wondering—does your Myers-Briggs Type Indicator reveal your writing process, and the genre of your fiction?
Kate Scott explored this topic well and I recommend her post. What follows is my whimsical take. To determine your type, take this online quiz. Then skip to my assessment of your type. If my write-up doesn’t ring true, well, I warned you. If you do identify with what I wrote, that proves even a blind pig, etc.
ENFJ
Process—Lucky you keep a notebook of interesting words and phrases. Now post that calendar with the deadline circled, and get ready to educate the world. If you can’t collaborate with a co-author, then at least consult.
Genre—Young Adult, with realistic teenage dialogue
ENFP
Process—Time to brainstorm with fellow writers. Get the feel of each character—know them like family. Let those metaphors and similes flow.
Genre—literary fiction or highbrow romance, where you connect your characters to the big ideas, the eternal aspects of human nature
ENTJ
Process—You joined a writer’s group, and soon became its president. You’ve researched all aspects of your book and could teach a college-level course in each. You’ve posted a mind-map on the wall near the executive chair in your ‘command bunker.’ All that remains is to adhere to your detailed outline.
Genre—technothrillers bristling with advanced gadgets, accurate in every detail
ENTP
Process—Peruse your ‘ideas file,’ now bulging with dozens, even hundreds, of story ideas. Bounce notions off your online fan club, or sit with friends at the coffee shop to discuss the book. Follow the intricate plan you’ve laid out.
Genre—mysteries featuring a clever detective, or other problem-solving stories where your hero contrives an ingenious solution to a bedeviling dilemma.
ESFJ
Process—you take your voice recorder everywhere, ‘writing’ by talking first. Collaboration? Heck, you tell everyone about your book, from the grocery clerk to your co-workers. Outlines bore you, so you write on the fly.
Genre—any popular genre, since you know what readers want, but always in first-person, like you’re telling a campfire story
ESFP
Process—You host a party, and the main entertainment is a freeform brainstorm of your story. A few drinks liven things up. For the actual writing, if you’re not collaborating with one or more co-authors on the effort, you wish you were.
Genre—romance, featuring your clever wordplay. with a huge cast of characters, often attending parties
ESTJ
Process—Somebody’s put out a submission call you like, so it’s time to sit at your well-ordered desk and craft an outline. Soon a theme emerges as you work to achieve each milestone of your plan.
Genre—short stories in any genre, prompted by submission calls, written in clear prose, about characters using logic to resolve conflict
ESTP
Process—Good thing you’ve assembled your collection of note cards with all the facts you’ll need. Now head to your favorite restaurant with your writer friends. Once the outline’s done, get the story written and published, because the real fun is at the book signings.
Genre—any genre where your characters can talk their way out of difficult jams
INFJ
Process—You’ve been people-watching in the park, notebook in hand, so you’ve now formed an image of your characters. You even know which actors should play them in the (please let it be!) movie. No outline will constrain you as you let the characters take the story where they will.
Genre—Romance, of course
INFP
Process—Home now after your daily nature walk, you retire to your writing niche, energized by fragrant incense and stimulated by seeing your favorite decorations. Time to write, unhindered by outlines or any assigned topics, you write what you want. You’re no sell-out to the market.
Genre—literary fiction of a deep, introspective, and moody nature
INTJ
Process—You’ve never shown anyone where you write, and you call it your ‘secret lair.’ A blueprint of your story fills the screen of one of the monitors on your desk. Maybe that first draft didn’t work, but that’s why you edit.
Genre—science fiction, alternate history, or steampunk, but always containing political overtones
INTP
Process—It’s well past midnight, but you don’t care, or even notice. You’re writing what you like. The detailed outline guides you. Thanks to careful research, and your collection of how-to-write books, you’ve learned a lot, and that’s the point.
Genre—mixed-genre novels, the kind booksellers can’t categorize, as well as experimental novels that explore untried plot structures
ISFJ
Process—You’ve done your research and know the plot types and tropes that work for readers. You’ve carved out this time to work without interruption, after first ensuring others in your home don’t need you for anything.
Genre—Historical fiction, in your easy style, all parts in harmony, designed to entertain and educate
ISFP
Process—You’re outdoors, on your deck or patio, or in the park, music playing in your earbuds. In your mind, you picture a reader enjoying your book. You just returned from a trip to the city of your novel’s setting, where you soaked in the ambiance of the place. That brisk walk you took earlier sure stimulated your muse and collected your thoughts about the submission call you’ve chosen to respond to.
Genre—novel-in-verse or literary fiction
ISTJ
Process—Here in your home library, surrounded by reference books (including a well-thumbed thesaurus), outline, schedule, and spreadsheets, you’re set to go. You’ve also hand-built a model of the very thing you’re writing about, to inspire you.
Genre—mysteries with a clever detective
ISTP
Process—Above your desk, you’ve posted a clear, one-sentence goal for your book. Nobody tasked you to write this book, and nobody else could craft it as well. You’re going to work as long and as hard as it takes to meet your high standards. Nothing but the Great American Novel will do.
Genre—any established genre, and you aim for the top spot in it
Eerie, isn’t it, how I knew your writing process and genre from your Myers-Briggs personality type alone? What can I say? It’s a super-power reserved to, (and used only for good by)—
Could you ‘pants’ your way through a novel? I couldn’t.
Definition
‘Pantsing’ means writing without an outline—writing by the seat of your pants. That idiom, by the way, builds on the idea of mariners ‘sailing by the stars.’ In the early days of aviation, pilots who flew without instruments or navigational aids were said to be ‘flying by the seat of their pants.’
I’ve blogged about pantsing before, mainly here and here, but those posts contrasted plotters and pantsers. Today I’d like to concentrate on pantsers alone.
To me, pantsing seems strange, alien, almost unimaginable. Being curious by nature, I’d like to try it sometime. I’ve read blogposts by a few pantsers, and it seems like something I might just be able to do. In a short story, maybe, not a novel.
How to
How does pantsing work? According to the Writing Mastery Academy, you start with an idea, get to know your characters, remain open to inspiration, track your story with a simple organizational system, and keep your end goal in mind. The organizational system they recommend is not an outline written in advance (that wouldn’t be pantsing). It’s a very simple outline or set of notes compiled while writing, more like a rearview mirror view to organize what you’ve written.
Ariele Sieling’s process seems similar, but emphasizes different things. She says you should sit down, find your glimmer, say what comes to mind, and don’t stop. The ‘glimmer’ is the starting point, the ‘glimmer of an idea.’ I’d say the ‘don’t stop’ part goes along with ‘keeping your end goal in mind’ from the previous paragraph.
The Secret
But, without an outline, how do you keep your novel from going all over the place, on crazy tangents, or having minor characters start hogging the limelight, or changing your protagonist’s eye color several times? Lauren Sapala’s answer is to trust yourself and your process. It will work out alright. You can fix all those problems in later editing.
Not my Type
In another post, Lauren Sapala explains you don’t have much choice anyway. You can’t choose whether to write like a plotter or pantser—your personality dictates the choice. Using Myers-Briggs Type Indicator terminology, she says INFJ or INFP personalities seem most suited to pantsing. Those stand for Introverted-Intuitive-Feeling-Judging and Introverted-Intuitive-Feeling-Perceiving. Experts often describe these two personality types as the Advocate and the Mediator.
Since I’m an INTJ (Architect), that might explain why I don’t lean toward pantsing.
Point on a Line
Still, there’s hope for me yet. According to Kristina Adams, plotting and pantsing don’t result from a binary choice. They lie on a spectrum, depending on how much you rely on a previously written outline, how detailed that outline is, and how firm you are about sticking to it. You may write at any point along that spectrum.
What Pantsing Isn’t
As you read this post, some of you, no doubt, wondered if the opposite of pantsing is to write without wearing pants. That sounds easier than pantsing (as I’ve described it) and perhaps it’s worth some experimentation by—
You’ve heard of various types of editors. You’ve heard of beta-readers. But what’s a sensitivity reader? Should you hire one?
Societal Change
Let’s set the scene by reviewing recent history. In the past, a majority white and male-oriented culture prevailed in America. White, male writers often wrote about characters of other races, and female characters of any race, in a negative way, with prose full of stereotypes, misogyny, and racism. The reading public accepted this. I’m not excusing this, just stating it.
In recent years, we’ve seen a change. Readers seek stories depicting authentic women and people of color. They’ve rebelled against writing that falls short of that standard, often getting offended by it, and have broadcasted those opinions on social media, giving rise to ‘cancel culture.’
Publishers, noticing the changing market, have sought manuscripts with more realistic portrayals. The pendulum has swung the other way, and publishers often prefer stories with women and people of color as the heroes, and white males as the bad guys. Some publishers have extended this preference beyond the text, to the author. They sometimes favor manuscripts written by writers belonging to formerly marginalized groups out of a belief that only they can portray such characters in a non-offensive way.
Running Scared
For a time, a cloud of fear hung over the industry. White, male writers feared being cancelled, even rejected by publishers due to a gender and skin color they couldn’t change. Publishers, with predominantly white editors, feared cancellation, since even one book not meeting the standard could spell financial doom.
A harsh reaction arose over the existence of, and need for, sensitivity readers. Accused of censorship and dictatorial gatekeeping, sensitivity readers would, some thought, act like thought police, rendering all writing bland and dull.
Backlash Against the Backlash
Supporters of sensitivity readers dismissed accusations of censorship, asserting that such readers only make recommendations. The author remains responsible for the writing, and the publisher remains responsible for the book’s publication. A sensitivity reader won’t certify your manuscript as cancel-proof, any more than an editor can guarantee no lingering grammatical mistakes or misspellings.
Rewriting the Past
The advent of sensitivity readers to help with manuscripts before publication coincides with a new and related phenomenon. Publishers now hire sensitivity readers as editors to put out revised editions of existing books, works once deemed acceptable, but now considered offensive by some. They’ve cleansed these revised versions of objectionable content. This has occurred to the works of Roald Dahl, Ian Fleming, and R.L. Stine.
The practice sparked controversy when it began, with critics taking umbrage at altering classics in the name of wokeness.
Today
Much of the uproar over sensitivity readers had died down. They stand as one more resource available to authors. Such readers perform a service, but responsibility remains with the writer and publisher, as it had before.
As for altering previously published works, the outrage here, too, shall pass. So long as (1) the book states that text has been changed from the original to suit modern tastes, (2) the original version remains available for purchase, and (3) no violation of copyright laws occur, there seems little harm. It’s akin to publishing abridged versions of long works, or revising very old works into modern English.
Readers Rule
To me, it’s all about delighting, educating, or fascinating the reader. It’s always been about that since writing began. (Here I’m talking about writers who seek to have their work read, not those who write only for themselves.) If sensitivity readers help an author’s work connect better with today’s reading audience, I’m fine with them. As a writer, you’re free to use this available resource or not, and free to accept the resulting recommendations or not.
Come to think of it, maybe a sensitivity reader should have reviewed this post before its publication by—
Today’s interview features a writer skilled in many forms of the literary art, and all his writing will make you think. He’s written mysteries, thrillers, plays, young adult books, children’s books, science fiction, short stories, novels, and poetry. (I guess it would have been easier to list what he hasn’t written.) Here’s his bio:
Michael Baldwin is a native of Fort Worth, Texas. He holds a BA in Political Science and Master’s degrees in Information Science and Public Administration. Mike is now retired from a career as a library administrator and professor of American Government. He may be a descendant of the Lakota mystic warrior, Crazy Horse, and will be glad to elaborate over a couple of beers. In addition to writing in multiple genres, Mike provides seminars on creativity based on neuroscience.
Baldwin has published two adventure novels: Murder Music and Neanderthal Gita. His lifelong interest in science caused him to publish five volumes of science-based science-fiction, the Passing Strange series. Also because of his interest in science, Mike published a children’s science adventure book, Space Cat, which takes kids on a tour of the solar system. Baldwin is also known for his award-winning poetry. He has published five books of poetry, three of which have won awards.
Next, the interview:
Poseidon’s Scribe: How did you get started writing? What prompted you?
Mike Baldwin: I was an avid reader of science fiction in high school. I wanted to try my hand at it and began writing sci-fi short stories at that time and discussing them with friends. I was in the science club at school and built my own Newtonian telescope to do amateur astronomy. Writing about science and exploring ideas thru science fiction just came naturally to me.
P.S.: It’s fascinating that you might be a descendant of Crazy Horse. How much are you willing to elaborate on that without plying you with a couple of beers?
M.B.: As a pre-teen, I found a book in my aunt’s garage titled A Biographical History of North and West Texas. It had an entry about my great grandparents, who migrated to west Texas from Missouri in the late 1800s. It noted that my great grandmother was a Native American woman of Lakota extraction. This was interesting but didn’t mean much to me at the time. As an adult, however, I became interested in my Native American heritage and happened to read Larry McMurtry’s biography of Crazy Horse. CH had a daughter who disappeared as a teenager after Crazy Horse was assassinated. It was rumored she had married a white man and moved south. That included the time period my great grandparents migrated to Texas. So, I claim her and Crazy Horse as my ancestors even tho it can’t be proven definitively. I like to think I received some of Crazy Horse’s mystic qualities of mind.
P.S.: Who are some of your influences? What are a few of your favorite books?
M.B.: As I said, I read science and science-fiction extensively as a boy. I went by bus to the central library almost every Saturday and raided their sci-fi section. Asimov, Heinlein, A.E. Van Vogt, Clifford Simak, Andre Norton, Ray Bradbury, Arthur Clark, Edgar Rice Burroughs, and Jules Verne, were among my favorites, but I read them all voraciously. I couldn’t afford to buy the sci-fi magazines, so the library was my treasure place. Little wonder that I later became a librarian.
But I also read real science adventure books avidly. Beebe’s descents into the oceans, Frank Buck’s tales of the African jungles, and many more. As a teen I really liked the sci-fi of E.E. Smith because it was highly imaginative, far reaching in its scope, and had wonderful aliens as well as human heroes (the lensmen). But when I tried to read Smith’s books as an adult, I found them disappointing. The teen mind must be much more forgiving of style and literary quality.
A non-fiction science book I enjoyed as a teen was Worlds In Collision by Emmanuel Velikovsky, which theorized that the Earth and solar system might have been affected by a rogue planet invading the solar system in prehistoric times. It was full of footnotes, including citing Ibid frequently. I had never seen Ibid before and assumed it was a book rather than just designating the same work as previously cited. I asked the school librarian if she had a copy of the Ibid. She had a good laugh before explaining.
P.S.: Maybe the librarian laughed, but she must also have been impressed. You write a wide variety of things for different audiences. Among your adventure novels, plays, science fiction, children’s books, and poetry, do you have a favorite?
M.B.: I really don’t have a favorite except whichever one I am currently working on. I like them all and am proud of them all. I think they all turned out well. Although I enjoy writing in several genres, the common thread is ideas. All my books are based on ideas I get from my own extensive reading and from the universal subconscious, which is available to anyone. All my books explore one or several major ideas, but also bring in social, political, religious, scientific, and other topics as they fit into the plot (or in the case of poetry, the concept of the poem).
P.S.: Tell us about your Passing Strange series. Are there common threads among the five volumes? Can readers tackle them in any order? Do you plan to write more in this series?
M.B.: When I published the first volume, Passing Strange, I didn’t plan to write a series, but the ideas just kept coming, so the other volumes insisted on being written. There are no continuing or connected stories in the series except there are several stories scattered among them with the character, Zbub. The first story of Zbub has him as a sort of strange, creepy character who is not the real focus of the story. But Zbub wouldn’t let go of my neurons, so I kept writing stories with him as a character, usually just as a means of inciting the action. His character kept becoming more complex and interesting, so I kept writing more of his stories. I think readers will find him likeable and amusing as a trickster who really shakes things up.
After five volumes of Passing Strange stories, I’m taking a pause and am thinking of sequels to Murder Music and Neanderthal Gita which interact with each other. But I am constantly making notes of ideas for more sci-fi stories, so maybe there will be a 6th volume of Passing Strange and probably more Zbub.
P.S.: Your novel Murder Music contains many strange and delightful aspects, but at one level, it’s a mystery thriller featuring a young woman and her haunted violin. Tell us about Missy McKean—who she is, her personality, and whether someone in real life inspired this character.
M.B.: Yes, as a matter of fact, Missy was inspired by my daughter and her cousin as teens. They were both highly intelligent wild girls who were always getting into some sort of mischief. One was a fine musician and scholar, the other highly scientifically minded who became a doctor and psychiatrist. I had been thinking about writing a novel about musicians for some time because I had been an amateur musician and interested in classical and jazz all my life. But I decided it needed to be an adventure and preferably a mystery that departs from the usual, worn out tropes of the standard mystery. I also had many ideas about unusual mental capabilities I wanted to explore with the book. Then I thought I might as well throw in a metaphysical aspect with the haunted violin. By the way, much of the information about the Guarnerius violin and its owners is historically accurate. Also, the information about Dillon Moonbear being conceived in orbit around the moon and born to a bear was scientifically and historically feasible.
P.S.: It’s fascinating to imagine the implications of a tribe of Neanderthals still existing, hidden, today. Readers can enjoy your approach to that idea in Neanderthal Gita. What prompted you to write this novel?
M.B.: I’ve always been interested in prehistory. My dad studied historical geology in college and often took me out looking for fossils and talking about dinosaurs and early man. Like most people, I thought Neanderthals were more primitive than cro-magnon people (us) who succeeded them. But modern scientific techniques began to find that the Neanderthal were much more complex than we had thought. They had a larger brain capacity than us. They were much more muscular than us but weren’t knuckle draggers. So they may have been superior to us in both intelligence and physical capabilities. I found that there were few novels about Neanderthals, and none that made use of the latest information about them. So I researched Neanderthals extensively and wrote about them imaginatively. I invented a culture for them that was true to what we now know of them. The only liberties I took were to make a tribe of them survive into modern times and have mental telepathy (that extra brain capacity).
P.S.: What are the easiest, and the most difficult, aspects of writing for you?
M.B.: Many writers complain of writer’s block, of fear of the blank page. I’ve never had that problem. In fact, I get more ideas than I’m able to deal with. If I forget to jot down an idea, it may disappear into my forgetter, which is stronger than my rememberer. My main problem is that every time I return to a story or poem I’ve written, even those I consider finished, I want to tinker with it and make changes. All writers do that to an extent, but they should realize that when they look at it again, they are a different person. Their brain has changed significantly, so they (and I) may have a completely different perspective on it. So I have to struggle with myself to let it go.
P.S.: You’ve written several books of poetry, and some have won awards. Congratulations on winning the Edward Eakin Poetry Book Award and the Morris Memorial Chapbook Award. What sort of poetry do you write? Are there common themes or other similarities that mark your poems?
M.B.: Ah, now you’ve hit on a sore subject for me. Most of my poetry is about ideas, as I also said about my fiction. Ideas are or were a major force in poetry, from Donne and Shakespeare to Whitman, Dickenson, Eliot, Pound, and Frost. But in the last ten to fifteen years, poetry has become more interior, more personal, more narcissistic. So I’ve had more trouble getting my poetry accepted for publication in journals, which are mostly managed by young poets of this new poetic trend. This change has been noticed and criticized by several major poetry critics in articles and books, so it’s not just my feeling of sour grapes.
P.S.: Sorry, I didn’t mean to hit a nerve. Let’s move on. Your children’s book, Space Cat, is a fun and educational romp through the solar system. It’s such a departure from your other books—how did you come to write it?
M.B.: I became interested in doing a children’s book when my grandsons started to read. I greatly enjoyed reading to and with them. Also, that was about the time the Hubble Telescope began producing such gorgeous images of space. I had been an amateur astronomer and interested in science all my life, so a children’s space science book was what came naturally. I decided it needed to provide an exciting adventure as well as scientific information in order to hold kids’ attention and spark their imagination.
P.S.: What is your current work in progress? Would you mind telling us a little about it?
M.B.: I just finished a novel (still tinkering with it of course) for which I’m seeking a publisher. It is a historical literary novel that also has aspects of romance and adventure. It involves four jazz musicians who are in and out of love with each other between 1985 and 2002. They have small adventures and emotional crises at home but also participate in larger events such as the 911 tragedy, the war in the Balkans, and the Afghanistan War. Music, poetry, and romance are the primary themes. Some of the characters from Murder Music and Neanderthal Gita also figure in the story, but not as major characters.
I’m also working on two books of poetry: one about climate change and one about politics and social problems.
Poseidon’s Scribe: What advice can you offer aspiring writers?
Mike Baldwin: Forget about it unless you are a masochist! If you are not completely serious about writing and/or don’t read much, don’t bother to try to become a writer. Starting as a writer is very hard and a long, draining struggle. You should have many years of reading behind you as a basis for knowing what good writing consists of. You have to discipline yourself to sit and write almost every day. Most of what you write the first couple of years will be crap and must be rejected. But as you gain experience, your brain will become more efficient at writing and presenting ideas to you. Even if you become a proficient writer, however, you will find you can’t make a living at it. There is too much competition now because computer technology made it much easier for anyone to write. But the publishing industry has changed to become much more demanding and less supportive for the writer than it was in previous times. Self-publishing makes getting a book before the public easy, but you have to promote it massively and relentlessly to develop a readership and get paid for your stories. So don’t waste your time or torture yourself writing. You stand a better chance becoming a professional athlete than a best-selling author. Just buy my books, kick back, and enjoy a brilliant, enthralling, mind-bending story.
Poseidon’s Scribe: Thank you, Mike. I agree with and endorse the idea of buying your books. Perhaps would-be writers should embrace the idea of writing for enjoyment rather than making a living from their words.
You’ve advanced enough in the writing biz that you’re scheduled to speak as a panelist at a conference. Or perhaps the organizers asked you to moderate (lead) a panel. However, you’ve never done either one before, and you’re wondering how to perform these roles. Perhaps reading this post will help pass the time while you work up the gumption to seek valuable advice.
Brief Boast
First, by way of unrelated bragging, I should mention that the nice folks at Feedspot have chosen my blog as one of the ten best book launch blogs. Perhaps they picked my blog because of all the author interviews I’ve conducted. Or perhaps it’s because people who read my posts feel impelled to launch my books into orbit to spare other readers from misery. In either case, I feel honored by the selection.
Conference Attendees
Think of a conference (writer’s con, or a genre-specific con, like the scifi ones I frequent) from the attendees’ point of view. They peruse the list of panels, wondering which to attend, hoping for the best, but fearing another boring snoozer. For some reason, some chose the panel you’re on. You owe it to those attendees to give it your best, to make the panel experience informative and enjoyable. This is all about them, not you.
Panelist
I’ve blogged about being a panelist before, but I was younger then and hadn’t yet earned my PhD in Panelology. Important, and updated, nuggets of advice follow:
Prepare. If you’re not an expert on the panel topic, you should do a bit of research—say, five or ten minutes.
Go light on self-promotion. The audience showed up to hear about the panel topic, not every story you’ve written. Blow your horn just enough to establish your authority on the topic.
Don’t be afraid to disagree with another panelist, but do so with respect and tact.
Don’t jaw-wag too long. The audience might have liked you at first, but that attraction fades the longer you drone on and the sleepier they get.
When you don’t know how to answer a question, pass. Don’t pollute the silence with off-topic blathering.
In all your answers, err on the side of providing the most educational, useful, and actionable advice to your audience.
Moderator
Having moderated many con panels, I feel qualified to bore you with these bullet points:
Advance preparation helps a moderator even more than it does a panelist. Develop a list of questions that blanket the topic, emphasizing things an audience member might wish to know. Then arrange the questions in a logical order and highlight the important ones.
At the con, introduce yourself with humble (and precedence-establishing) brevity and allow your panelists to introduce themselves. You could choose to introduce them yourself, if you’re familiar with their curriculum vitae.
As you ask your questions, specify whom should answer, and give each panelist equal time.
Listen to the panelist’s answers. Sometimes those responses will prompt good questions you hadn’t thought of.
Be alert for controversial or offensive answers, as detected by your read of the room. Don’t just move on as if the transgression hadn’t happened. You might ask the opinionated panelist for a fuller explanation, or ask other panelists if they agree.
Let disagreements between panelists play out, so long as they’re respectful.
If things get out of hand, remember—you’re in change. Use your parental voice to silence the bickering children. In the rare extreme, you might have to separate the combatants, expel one or both from the battlefield, or even end the session. If that occurs, stand ready to defend your actions to the con organizers.
Read the room for signs of boredom. If seen, pep things up. Modulate your voice. Ask a provocative question. Gesticulate.
Watch the time, so you allow a period for audience questions. When taking questions, try to go in the order hands were raised.
If the audience runs out of questions, ask the panelists more from your list.
Leave a little time for final wrap-up statements (and self-promotion) from each panelist. Thank them and thank the audience.
Stick around long enough to ensure the room is ready for the next panel.
See? You have no reason to worry about serving as a panelist or moderator at your next con. If I can do it, you can do it. You’ll be great. And, after all, you needn’t vault a high bar to surpass—
An author sits at a table in a grocery store, trying to sell his book. He’s sat there for hours, ready to sign books for buyers, but few stop to talk, and even fewer to buy. At last, one man does stop, and offers to post a video of the author on TikTok. Soon after, the post goes viral and book sales soar.
Luck?
You may regard that author as the luckiest writer alive, the chance winner of some literary lottery. But I’ve left out parts of Shawn Warner’s story. He might well agree with a quote attributed to filmmaker Samuel Goldwyn: “The harder I work, the luckier I get.”
Perseverance
That book signing in the grocery story hadn’t been Warner’s first. He hadn’t just dashed out a book. He’d been writing for fifteen years, without much success.
The TikTok influencer, Jerrad Swearenjin, hadn’t chosen to post to an uninterested audience about some third-rate tale. The novel, Leigh Howard and the Ghosts of Simmons-Pierce Manor, delighted the young TikTok readership.
I took the opportunity to hear Shawn Warner speak this past week, and he seemed well plugged in to the current publishing scene. He gave his audience sound, up-to-date advice about the writing business. Although I’ve heard and read some of these tips from others, Mr. Warner conveyed them in plain, easy-to-digest nuggets. I’ll just summarize a few of my takeaways.
Plot vs. Character
You may write either a plot-driven story or a character-driven story, Warner said. But today’s publishers are rejecting the former and accepting only the latter. (This disappoints me, for I like reading and writing the plot-driven kind.)
Characters
You should make your protagonist seem a real person with strengths, weaknesses, and friends. Your antagonist, too, must seem real, with strengths and weaknesses, but the bad guy requires no friends.
Warner discussed what he called the ‘A-Story’ and the ‘B-Story.’ The A-Story involves the external plot, with the protagonist reacting, at first, to events that strike at that character’s weaknesses. The B-Story involves the protagonist’s internal struggle against weaknesses. For books being published today, the B-Story takes precedence. As the tale progresses, the protagonist begins to solve the internal flaw and acts (with what is called ‘agency’) to resolve the A- and B-Stories.
Edit by Audio Recording
Warner suggests making your own audio recording of your manuscript. Then listen to it and edit your written manuscript based on what doesn’t sound right, or where you stumbled while reading.
Taglines
Warner suggests you develop a one-sentence tagline to answer the question, “What is your book about?” For his novel, he says, “It’s about a teenage girl who teams up with a ghost of multiple personalities to solve the mystery of her parents’ murder.” He advises that you memorize and rehearse your tagline until you can roll it out without hesitation. Obviously, you’d want to do that for all your published and upcoming books. Further, I’d suggest a tagline to answer the often-asked question, “What do you write about?”
Conclusion
Mr. Warner offered other bits of advice, but I’ll keep this post short. I’ve blogged before about Malcolm Gladwell’s theory in Outliers that genius requires 10,000 hours of practice, plus luck. I consider Shawn Warner a good example of that. Yes, luck smiled on him that day in the grocery store. But it occurred only after the 10,000 hours of writing, the perseverance to sit for book signings, and the writing of an excellent book.
Perhaps, after the same amount of perseverance, a similar bolt of luck will strike you and—
Are milieu and ambiance important, perhaps even necessary, for the act of writing?
Milieu means surroundings, environment. Ambiance means the mood created by an environment. As a writer, you strive for a creative, productive mood, particularly one that results in a string of words soon to become a best-seller. Before sitting down to write, do you arrange a milieu conducive to achieving that ambiance? Let’s examine the aspects involved.
Sight
You don’t gaze at the screen or page all the time. Now and then you glance up. When you do, what visual surroundings do you prefer to see? Do you lean toward a natural view—vistas of the outside world including trees, flowers, mountains, lakes, etc.? Or are you the decorative indoor type—furnishing your writing space with paintings, knick-knacks, posters, figurines, or other delights for the eye? Perhaps visual clutter distracts you, and you seek a bare, spartan environment. Or do your visual surroundings matter at all?
Sound
Does noise, or its absence, harmonize with your writing? Some writers hate sound of any kind. Even the ticking of a clock or the hum of a fan disturbs them. Others prefer the quiet murmurs of nature—twittering birds and babbling creeks. Others put on recorded music, a background soundtrack of their writing passion. Perhaps, for them, certain songs match the rhythm of their creativity. Other writers tap into music more in tune with the specific mood or setting of their work-in-progress.
Smell
Scientists claim a strong link exists between odor and mood. Do you follow your nose to improved creativity or prolificness, or both? Do you achieve your optimum olfactory atmosphere via flowers, perfume, potpourri, or incense? Perhaps you turn your nose up at fragrances altogether, not caring one whiff about them.
Touch
Does the tactile sense reach out and poke your creative nerves? Does it help to stroke the fur of a pet or stuffed animal? Is the comfiness of your chair a factor? Maybe the feel of a pen in your hand rubs you the right way.
Taste
Bundled with smell, taste hits the spot for some writers. We’ve all heard accounts of authors who required alcohol to write, but I’m not sure I swallow that. In fact, I’d caution against forming a strong association between writing and tastes. Once that mental link gets established, you’ll strive to write better by eating or drinking more. Too much food or drink can harm your health.
Locale
For the above sensory factors, locale plays a role. Do you write outdoors, preferring a natural setting, disdaining the artificial? Or is the indoor milieu more your style, a place you can shape and adjust as you please, without the bother of insects?
Mental State
We’ve been assuming a process of ambiance—allowing the milieu to create a mood. Perhaps, however, you attain your optimum mental state in a more direct, way. Maybe you reach your creative mood through meditation. Or, more simply, you read and think about what you’ve written before to put yourself in the right frame of mind to continue on. In other words (with apologies to Decartes), you think, therefore you can write.
Experimentation
Maybe you haven’t a clue about the answers to any questions I’ve asked, but you’d like to find out. No problem. Do what a scientist would do—experiment. Try out different milieu and assess the resulting ambiance. Compare the way you write in these different environments. You’re not looking for surroundings that you find most pleasurable, but the one that results in your best prose. Readers, of course, may differ from your assessment and then you’ll face an interesting choice—go with what you prefer, or with what your audience wants.
As for me…
Throughout this post, I’ve proposed things for you to consider as you write. You might be interested in my choice of milieu and its ensuing ambiance. Why you’d be interested in that is a question only you can answer.
I favor the make-your-own-mental-state approach without regard to any milieu. I like to think I can write anywhere. However, if I should, one day, discover just the right environment to generate a best-seller, that would lock in that particular milieu and ambiance for—
As the old saying goes, if you want to make a small fortune by writing fiction, start with a large fortune. Spoiler alert—the answer to this post’s title question is ‘yes.’
The Problem
Fiction writers should get paid more than most of them do. Consider the loneliness of writing, the struggle to gather the right words—out of many thousands—and to arrange them in just the right order, the trepidation of submitting a manuscript, the anxious anticipation of awaiting a response, the crushing despair of rejection.
Mere doctors and lawyers, accustomed to their lives of ease, could never stand the strain. Yet, by the most paradoxical injustice of our universe, members of these professions earn much more money than most fiction writers.
The Plea
As mentioned in an article in The Guardian, author Philip Pullman wrote an open letter to British publishers, imploring them to pay writers more. He made his case on the basis of fairness, stating that it’s in everyone’s interest to ensure authors can make a living.
Plan A
The uncaring and indifferent among you might ask where the money (these additional funds for deserving authors) should come from. The letter doesn’t cover that matter in detail because the answer is obvious. After all, publishers spend most of their time luxuriating in their vaults, counting and recounting their excess money. They use bills as scrap paper. They use gold coins to shim the legs of wobbly desks. They’re awash in cash, drowning in it.
The letter doesn’t ask publishers to part with all their money, just enough so starving writers can eat. It’s not too much to ask. Publishers will still retain plenty of scrap paper and desk-propping coins.
Plan B
On the off chance those skinflint publishers decline to cough up the necessary funding, the letter hints at another source. Pullman states it’s in ‘everyone’s interest’ to get writers paid appropriately.
Therefore, if publishers prove too stingy, we can turn to Plan B—take money from everyone and spread that sum among writers. However, Plan B may prove more difficult than it sounds. Going door to door with a tin cup strikes me as time-consuming. Also, a few citizens may hold differing opinions of fairness and disagree about what constitutes ‘everyone’s interest.’ Some might even refuse to contribute to the tin cup.
Let’s forget that method and select a far more efficient way of collecting money from ‘everyone’—taxation. We can simply persuade politicians (well known for their powers of logical reason and their sense of fairness) to raise sufficient taxes to pay writers what we’re worth. If they balk at a tax hike, they can feel free to add to the rather minuscule national debt, for payment later, by someone else.
What a grand project! Who’s with me?
The Consequences
Before we march on Washington, there’s one more thing. Failure in this endeavor is not an option. Mr. Pullman’s letter warns that if writers don’t get paid more, they will become an endangered species.
Writers, you may be aware, have almost split off from Homo sapiens to constitute a separate species—Homo scriptor. Failure to pay writers a living wage, Mr. Pullman believes, will cause that species’ population to decline.
What higher purpose does government serve, I ask you, than to protect all the species of the Earth? The endangerment of a beloved species, the possibility of its extinction, should prompt all non-writers to beg their governments to do something to ‘Save the Writers.‘ (Not a bad slogan. I should write that down.)
Rethinking the Problem
As I ponder this, a countervailing thought occurs. As the population of Homo scriptor dwindles, they will produce fewer new books. In a free market, when supply shrinks and demand stays steady or increases, the price goes up. As the price rises, more money should flow to the remaining writers, thus solving their income problem.
In fact, it’s possible this has already happened, and that the world has already reached an equilibrium, with the right number of writers all earning their fair share in a competitive market.
Well, isn’t that a buzz kill? I had my bags packed to march on D.C. Maybe, contrary to Mr. Pullman’s contention, things are as fair as they’re going to be for writers.
And if they’re not, the words of my father keep coming back. He used to ask me, “Who told you the world was fair?” That was a long time ago, before I became—
When contrary facts collide with opinions, opinions should change, but often resist. I experienced that while reading this post by author Catherine Nichols about the good guy/bad guy myth.
My Former View
Prior to reading that post, I’d thought of ancient stories and folk tales as excessively moral. Peopled with characters wholly good or bad, the old yarns instructed readers in proper moral behavior. (And the moral of the story is…) Good guy wins because he’s good—bad guy loses because he’s bad.
I thought of these stories as immature, unsophisticated. We tell children simple stories of clearly-defined good and evil to help them make sense of a complex world, and to point them in a morally right direction.
In my understanding, Shakespeare changed that. He gave the world more complex characters, neither wholly good nor bad, deeper and more realistic. Sigmund Freud carried the movement further. After Freud, bad guys couldn’t practice evil for its own sake. They needed origin stories, psychological explanations for turning to the dark side, thus making them not wholly bad.
That led to our modern era, where stories tend toward the amoral, outside the moral/immoral spectrum. That’s what I thought, and even blogged about before.
A View Overturned
Ms. Nichols made the opposite case, and her post jarred my neuron signals from their accustomed paths. The ancient tales, she said, didn’t focus on morality or values much. Characters acted in accordance with their personality quirks, not in obedience to some moral code.
Citing examples such as the Iliad, Norse mythology, and familiar fairy tales, she asserted that old stories made no attempt to pit good against evil, or even teach moral lessons.
Modern stories, by contrast (particularly those depicted on screen), emphasize the white hat/black hat distinction and assign moral virtues to the characters, giving them codes of conduct to live by.
Nichols said modern re-telling of old stories insert morality where it hadn’t existed in the original. She cited the examples of Robin Hood, King Arthur, and Thor, where later writers assigned moral codes to characters who hadn’t possessed them in the original versions.
Toward a New Understanding
Which version is true? Did ancient authors write stories laden with morality, intended to instruct, while we modern sophisticates have transcended that? Or did past writers spin yarns without regard for moral teachings while today, we feel the need to issue good or evil badges to our characters? Is one type of story more evolved, more worldly, than the other? Or perhaps both views oversimplify the issue, cherry-picking examples to fit a theory?
Let’s start by assuming storytellers existed in every era of humanity, all the way back to the origins of language. With the advent of writing, storytellers documented their tales.
We may also assume people through the ages have differed in practices, cultures, customs, and values. Perhaps these differences influenced each community’s preferences for story types. Only those tales that resonated with a group got passed down. As storytellers and writers experimented, they discovered what worked for their audiences.
If a writer caught a cultural turning point, a readiness for something fresh and different, that writer met the new need. Other writers rode that wave, too.
I’m suggesting that moral and amoral stories have existed in all times and places. They either catch on or not depending on the prevailing preferences of their current, local marketplace.
Whether stories endure beyond the time and culture of their writing does not depend on the degree of morality in them. Rather, classics live on because they say something important about the universal aspects of human nature.
So What?
Meanwhile, at your own keyboard, you’re wondering how this esoteric discussion affects you. Where’s the actionable advice?
Okay, here it is. You may find it interesting to ponder the history of storytelling and debate the ebb and flow of moral and amoral stories. Or you may not. Just write the story within you, and I’ll write the story within—
