conflict - Steven R. Southard (Poseidon's Scribe)

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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 2 experience 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, 2012Poseidon's ScribePermalink

Romancing the Short Story

Bet you didn’t expect me to write a blog entry on writing romance short stories, did you? Well, for one thing, if you desire to become an author, you should learn to write about anything, even topics or genres you know little about or have little interest in. You never know what you’ll end up being good at.

Second, it’s hard to ignore the fact that the romance genre has a vast and insatiable readership. Perhaps not so much in the short story length as in the novel length, but again, what if you’ve got a potentially great romance writer inside you, but you never try the genre to find out?

And, it turns out I have written a couple of short story romances. “Within Victorian Mists” is a steampunk romance, and “Against All Gods” is a romance story set in Ancient Greece. So I am nominally qualified to discuss the topic.

To figure out what’s special or different about romance short stories, let’s start with basics. Any fictional story must have certain elements, including character, plot, conflict, setting, style, and perhaps theme. We’ll dispense with the last three by saying that romance stories can take place in just about any setting, be written in any style, and can explore just about any theme.

Romance stories are character-driven. The characters must be intriguing and complex. The point-of-view character should have aspects with which readers can identify and empathize.

The plot is the emerging love between the characters. Choose your events such that they enable the characters’ love to either develop, or be tested, or both.

The conflict is the protagonist’s struggle to attain love itself, not the sexual act or the fleeting emotions of love, but the deep and shared realization that the two major characters cannot live without each other.

In a short story, you’re going to have to be choosy. It’s very difficult, in just 1000 to 10,000 words, to encompass the typical progression of a love story in its entirety, from the first meeting, through the burgeoning attraction, through the testing or challenge, to the final realization of love. There’s a natural pace to the process of falling in love, and the short story length doesn’t fit that pace as well as the novel length does.

Consider selecting one vignette, one emotion-charged event of a larger love story, and leave the earlier parts as backstory, and just hint at the later events. To explain what I mean, let’s consider what Christie Craig and Faye Hughes describe as the plot points of a romance story, the events that sum up to the plot arc:

Introduction/meeting
First acknowledgement of attraction
First acknowledgement of emotional commitment
Dark moment (what I’d call a test of love’s strength)
Resolution

Your short story could consist of just one of those events, and hint at the rest. Charge your story with emotion, and ensure the protagonist experiences an internal change in the direction of love, and that could be sufficient. It might be all you can manage within a short story format.

Have you written a romance short story? Submitted it for publication? Leave a comment and let me know what happened. When you began writing did you ever think you’d write a romance? No? Neither did—

Poseidon’s Scribe

November 11, 2012Poseidon's ScribePermalink

Book Review — Remarkable Creatures

They say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover. To that I’d add “or its blurb.” I just finished listening to a book on tape, Remarkable Creatures, © 2010 by Tracy Chevalier, put out by Recorded Books Productions, narrated by Charlotte Parry and Susan Lyons. More about that blurb below.

The novel is the story of a lower class woman in England in the early 1800s, and her dealings with an upper class spinster. The story starts with the first woman, Mary Anning, as a child when the spinster, Elizabeth Philpot, is in her twenties. They end up sharing an interest in gathering and understanding fossils. Fossils had caused a stir in the scientific community since many seem to be from animals that no longer exist, which called Biblical teachings into question. The two women develop a knowledge of these fossils that equals or surpasses some of the learned men of Europe, but it is a time when women were sadly powerless in many areas, including science.

The author really puts you in the timeframe, and you come to care about the characters. If you don’t think you’re interested in fossils before you read the book, you might well be fascinated with them when you’re done. You’ll be drawn in as the two women become frustrated with their inability to be recognized by the male scientific community, and with their lack of success in finding husbands. All they really have is each other, and the author skillfully leads you along the ups and downs of their relationship.

What I didn’t know when I began reading is, these women were real. There really was a Mary Anning and an Elizabeth Philpot. In fact, most of the characters and events in the book were real. I had thought it was just a historical setting with made-up characters, but that is not so.

The narrators, Charlotte Parry and Susan Lyons, did a fine job in this audiobook. The book alternates in point-of-view between Anning and Philpot, and the narrators take turns. I wondered, at times, if it would have been more effective to have the ‘Mary’ narrator speak Mary’s actual lines and the ‘Elizabeth’ narrator speak Elizabeth’s lines, but Recorded Books chose the point-of-view method instead.

On the negative side, there is not a lot of action in the book. Moreover the conflicts and problems of the characters are not well defined. Fiction is about conflict and the attempted resolution of problems. I understand it can be difficult to force such a fictional constraint on real historical people, but there is a reason real life tends to be more boring than fiction. Fictional characters have well-understood goals and passions, and really important problems to solve. It’s my understanding that someone has bought movie rights to this book, but if a movie is made, they’ll have to put more action scenes in it and make the conflicts more apparent and dramatic. Either that or opt for a straight historical documentary.

I was enticed into reading the book by the blurb on the Recorded Books cover, including this intriguing sentence. “Mary discovers she has the ability to ‘see’ and locate fossils buried deep in the cliffs near her village.” That certainly makes it sound like she has some supernatural x-ray ability to see through rock, right? Nothing of the sort. Mary’s good at locating fossils, but due to the shifting of land in the area and the action of waves on the beach, new fossils become exposed on the surface quite often and it is these Mary can spot. Although it was a good book, I feel a little cheated by the misleading blurb. I can’t really fault the author for that, though, since she probably didn’t write it.

A surprisingly good book, I’ll give it a rating of four seahorses. Whether you concur with my opinions or differ, I’d like to hear from you. Just click on ‘leave a comment’ and you’ll get a reply from–

Poseidon’s Scribe

February 25, 2012Poseidon's ScribePermalink

Give Your Characters Vivid Personalities

Figured out the plot for a story you’re going to write, have you? Got some rough character ideas in mind? You say the only problem is, you’re not great at fleshing out the personalities of your characters? Well, you may have surfed to the right blog post.

I think the first rule of character personalities is–they must fit the story. Sometimes the plot itself necessitates certain personality types for your major characters. Of course, from the reader’s point of view, this fitting is the other way around. Readers learn about the character’s personalities early as they are introduced and relate to each other, and then read about the plot events. So from your reader’s perspective, it seems fortunate that your characters had just the right personalities, given what eventually happened.

You may have read plot-driven stories in which there’s a lot of action but the characters seem shallow or stereotypical. These stories get published because the plot action is so riveting, and despite the character portrayals. There are also character-driven stories where the characters are fully fleshed out, but very little action occurs other than people talking to each other. These stand a better chance of publication because readers like compelling characters. However, it’s best to have both a gripping plot and captivating characters.

Let me explain more clearly what I mean about character personalities fitting the plot. The protagonist in your story will face a conflict consisting of increasing levels of challenges. That’s what stories are about. The conflict can be external or internal or both. In the end, the conflict will be resolved somehow, and the protagonist may undergo an internal change.

So you could pick a personality type for the protagonist that suits her well for the conflict. In that case the story line is about her dealing with the challenges as they arise, and the actions she takes in accordance with her personality help to resolve the conflict. Or you could pick a personality type that’s at odds with the conflict. (For example, the conflict requires bold action, and you’ve got a shy protagonist.) Now the internal struggle within the protagonist is one more challenge she faces as she deals with the external conflicts. The actions she takes may actually worsen the conflict initially and trigger the increasing challenges.

In addition to fitting the plot, a character’s personality should fit, and emerge from, his background. As you figure out where the character was born, his birth order in relation to siblings, what his upbringing was like, and what occupation he chose, those background details might well suggest certain personality traits. (Alternately, you can determine personality traits first and come up with a suitable background later.) Keep in mind that people sometimes form personality types in reaction against their upbringing rather than being in harmony with it.

In addition to having a protagonist’s personality fitting both the conflict and the character’s background, you should ensure your major characters have different personality types. That makes their interactions much more interesting. As a beginning writer I have found this difficult. It’s easy to have characters act as I, the writer, would act in their place. That results in characters with personalities much like mine. A good writer populates her stories with characters of several personality types that are both revealed by their actions, and determine their actions in a believable way. Ideally your readers should be unable to determine your personality type from your writing.

There are many sources of information about personality types that can aid you in developing your characters. Internet searches on any of the following terms will provide plenty of information:

One (my favorite) is the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator, which lays out sixteen different personality types.
There are four-color personality representation schemes which seem a little less useful to me.
Enneagrams provide nine personality types. I have not used or studied this much, but it looks intriguing.
Astrology, either Western or Chinese, provides twelve unique personality types.

I listed these aids last because they are only useful to you in fleshing out a character’s personality type after you’ve already ensured the personality (1) fits the plot, (2) fits the background, and (3) differs from other characters and from the writer’s.

As always, feel free to leave a comment whether your personality clashes or matches with–

Poseidon’s Scribe

December 11, 2011Poseidon's ScribePermalink

That’s a Great Story!

What makes a story great, or even good? For this discussion I’ll concentrate on short stories, my main medium, but the principles apply to all fiction. Fair warning: I’ll explore the topic to the best of my ability, but if I was an expert on writing great short stories, I would be better known.

Philosophers since at least the ancient Greeks have puzzled about what makes one thing better or of greater value than another. Is it really all subjective, in the mind of each individual reader, or are there some objective aspects on which we can all agree? Further, what is meant by ‘great?’ Do we measure great stories by sales, by the number of favorable reviews, or by how the story stands the test of time?

For an interesting romp through the fields of quality, goodness, and value (in general, not specifically as related to stories) read Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance by Robert Pirsig.

Of course, people differ in the stories they like, and a given reader may change her own tastes over time. So there must be a subjective component to any definition of a good story. I touched on this in a previous blog entry.

Still, perhaps we can agree on a few elements that should be present in a good story. Not every element need be present, and excellence in some of them can make up for mediocrity in others. Further, as you’ll see, these aren’t exactly objective elements, so people could disagree about whether they are present or absent in any given story. Here are my ten elements, expressed in one long sentence:

A good story deals with one or more aspects of the human condition and starts with
an attention-grabbing hook that introduces
a compelling protagonist, with whom the reader can identify, who is
dealing with a difficult problem, a problem
with some relevance to the reader’s own life
in a vivid setting that puts the reader right there while the protagonist
encounters more difficult obstacles along the way
with enough tension and suspense to keep readers reading
and with the protagonist resolving the problem in the end in a satisfying, logical way, with bonus points if the protagonist learns something, and more bonus points if the reader can’t guess the ending early
with the whole story told in strong, clear language that produces an emotional reaction in the reader.

As it turns out, it’s easier to write down that list than it is to write a story that hits most of those marks. Thinking back over the best short stories you’ve read, are there common elements they share? Have I left out any elements in my list? As writers, we ought to be striving for greatness as we tell our tales, so it helps to know what separates good or great stories from the rest. I welcome your thoughts, which you can provide by clicking “leave a comment” below, whether or not you agree with–

Poseidon’s Scribe

November 13, 2011Poseidon's ScribePermalink

What? I’m Supposed to Learn Structure, Too?

Yes, you should know about short story structure to be successful in selling your tales. Luckily, it’s not difficult. To learn about structure, I mean. The actual writing of successful short stories takes some effort, but so does anything worthwhile.

Let’s start with the basic structure of any story. This structure is true for novels, movies, plays, even comic books. We’ll then see how the structure applies to short stories in particular.

1. The Hook. This is an opening section meant to grab the reader’s (or viewer’s) interest. I’ll have a few things to say about hooks in a future blog post. The hook needs to introduce your protagonist and his or her conflict. It should set the story in a particular time or place.

2. The Middle. Here the protagonist tries several times to end the conflict, but fails. It can even be the case that his or her attempts actually make things worse. In any case, the protagonist is tested in some way, either to physical limits or emotional ones, or both.

3. The Resolution (or Dénouement). In this section the conflict is resolved. This usually involves the protagonist learning something, perhaps something about himself or herself. The conflict could also be resolved by the protagonist’s death.

Aristotle called these parts the protasis, the epitasis, and the catastrophe.

The novelist Gustav Freytag later introduced the concept of the dramatic arc containing five parts: exposition, rising action, climax, falling action, and dénouement. Essentially Aristotle’s epitasis includes the middle three elements of Freytag’s dramatic arc, though the falling action could be part of Aristotle’s catastrophe. For simplicity here, I’ll stick to a three-part structure and use my titles for them.

In many story forms there will be no breaks or signposts separating these sections. Even so, a reader who is looking for these sections will find them. If you think back to novels you’ve read or movies you’ve seen, you’ll be able to recognize this structure.

With short stories, everything gets compressed. The main feature of short stories is, in fact, their shortness. This benefits the reader, since she or he can enjoy the story in a single sitting, thus remaining immersed in the world of the tale without interruption by the real world. However, this brevity becomes the driving constraint for the writer. The writer has to convey all three elements of story structure, but in very few words.

A short story needs a hook, like all stories. However, an author of such tales cannot include a long description of the protagonist, other characters, or the setting. Short stories have bare-bones hooks that just (1) introduce the protagonist, (2) introduce the conflict, and (3) set the story in time and place.

The middle section of a short story is likewise compacted down to the bare minimum. There are fewer characters to interact with, few or no subplots, not even very many protagonist-testing events. To keep the middle section short, some events or actions can be implied, letting the reader fill in the gaps in his or her mind. This implication technique seems to contradict the “show, don’t tell” commandment, but it’s different, and it’s something with which I still struggle.

A short story’s resolution section also is a trimmed-down version, in comparison with longer works. The section needs to resolve the conflict, possibly by having the protagonist learn something or otherwise grow as a person, or defeat the antagonist. Nearly all the loose ends of the story need to be tied up in this section. I say nearly all because it’s okay to leave some things unresolved or open to question–that’s life.

Throughout the writing of the short story, the author must take pains to keep a laser-like focus on the theme of the story. Delete anything not directly supporting that theme, or necessary to having a meaningful story.

As you read more short stories by authors you enjoy, you’ll see how they employ the three-part structure I’ve described. Soon you’ll be using it in your own stories, too. As always, please send a comment if this has been useful to you, and address it to–

Poseidon’s Scribe

October 2, 2011Poseidon's ScribePermalink

Not Mary Poppins

Let me set the scene for you. It’s an elementary school classroom in Cedar Rapids, Iowa sometime in the mid-1960s. Young Steve Southard is a student in second, third, or fourth grade. He has no idea that he will try his hand at writing stories someday.

The teacher asks if we have seen the movie “Mary Poppins,” and virtually all of us raise our hands. Then she asks, “Who is the movie about?”

There was no word “duh” in those ancient times, otherwise we would have used it. Every hand goes up. When the teacher chooses someone, the obviously-right answer comes out: “Mary Poppins.” (I mean, after all, they named the movie after her!)

“Wrong,” the teacher says.

That causes some puzzlement, and every hand goes down. Raised hands are much more tentative after that, the answers are phrased as questioning guesses. “The children?” “No.” “The mother?” “No.” “Bert, the chimney-sweep?” “No.”

In desperation, someone guesses “the father?” “Yes, that’s right.” The father? Really? The movie is about Mr. Banks?

What a wonderful teaching moment and an ideal vehicle to use! The teacher explained that the father was the only character who learned and changed, the only character with a major personality flaw that needed correction. (Well, the mother also has a major flaw, but she is definitely a secondary character.)

Mary Poppins is merely the agent of change. She arrives because a change is required, and leaves (as the wind shifts) as soon as it happens. It is the father who we see initially as being comfortable in his established world. The change agent shows him a different way of acting and he reacts badly to it. He blames the change agent (instead of himself) and tries correcting the problem in his own way. Things go from bad to worse until he loses the thing he values most–in this case, the security of his job. He comes to understand his problem and the likely consequences of continuing along an unchanging path. In the end we see he has changed, and is happier for it.

I’ll leave other concerns (whether a father really should care so little about his job, whether the movie was a fair rendition of the books, other movie interpretations, etc.) to other analysts. My purpose is to show that the protagonist in a story may not always be obvious. Look for the character with a problem–internal or external–he or she is forced to confront, the character whose problem makes things worse and worse, and for whom the problem is resolved at the end in some way. Find that character and you’ve found the protagonist. In a novel or novella-length story, multiple characters can have flaws that get resolved, but it should be clear which character is entwined with the main plot, and which are secondary characters involved with subplots.

Funny how that incident in a long-ago classroom stands out in my mind! Do you recall great learning moments from elementary school? Do you know any other story examples where the protagonist isn’t obvious? Send me a comment. In the meantime, I’ll just sit here feeling rather supercalifragilisticexpialidocious. Until the wind changes, I’m–

Poseidon’s Scribe

August 27, 2011Poseidon's ScribePermalink

For Heart or Market?

Today’s question: should you write for your heart or for the market? (Doesn’t it always come down to love or money?) Beginning writers often ask this, invariably because what they want to write (what their heart is telling them to write) is not selling in the marketplace. Moreover, when they look at what is selling, they see only cookie-cutter books in neat, well-defined genres, which are not the type of thing they wish to write.

Ideally, of course, the two are the same—what you want to write is exactly the sort of story that’s selling. Even better is to anticipate the market, to be writing now what the market will soon want, but doesn’t know it wants yet.

Most often, however, your heart is tugging you away from what readers want. And that takes us back to the question. Should you plug along, scribbling words you enjoy that will never be read, or compromise your integrity and crank out prolefeed for the masses, hating yourself for it every minute?

For short story writers like me, the answer is yes…do both. Short stories are small enough investments in time that you can write some tales for the sheer fun of it, and others that are more conventional and salable.

You may find yourself facing the same choice at two different times with the same story. Say you choose your heart and write your tale the way you want to, markets be damned. That certainly keeps your integrity intact and you feel good about that. Then you submit for publication and the editor likes the story but suggests significant changes to make it more salable. Now you’re faced with a decision again—twist the story you love all out of shape to satisfy readers, or keep your writing pure and visible only to those who inhabit your desk drawer?

As we further examine the heart-or-market question, it’s important to go back to your own goals as a writer. Do you write for the money or do you write because something inside says you must? If the answer is nearer one extreme than the other, that may help decide which path to pursue. Trouble is, you might have two equal goals and that just puts you right back on the horns of the dilemma.

One thing to bear in mind as you hone your writing talent is that both the market and your heart are moving things. We know that reader’s tastes change, and the next hot fiction trend may veer toward the stories you love writing but couldn’t previously sell. In the same manner (though harder to believe) your own tastes in writing may change. Once your muse gets bored, you never know what oddball ideas she may whisper to you next. You could end up writing in a genre you had sworn you’d never condescend to.

If both your heart and the market are changing, then at some point they may approach very closely, and you’ll find yourself enjoying writing for the market. When that happens, ride the wave as long as possible!

I can’t answer the question for you, but perhaps I’ve provided some factors to consider as you resolve the quandary for yourself. Look at it this way–what would writing be without some kind of internal battle, some titanic inner war over the course of the soul? As always, Dear Beginning Writer, your lonely struggles are appreciated and acknowledged by–

Poseidon’s Scribe

July 24, 2011Poseidon's ScribePermalink

Write What You Know? Really?

One of the oldest sayings about writing is “write what you know.” Its originator is unknown. Is this good advice, or bad?

This much is certain; it’s a lucky thing some great writers didn’t actually follow that advice. For one thing, we never would have had any science fiction or fantasy, since no writer has gone through the experiences of characters in those sorts of stories.

Or have they?

In one sense, all characters encounter problems and experience emotional reactions to those problems, then seek to find a resolution to those problems. All writers, all prospective writers, and even all people have done these things. Maybe you haven’t battled menacing wyverns with a magic sword, but you’ve felt fear, had adrenalin rushes, struggled to overcome a difficulty, experienced a feeling like all is lost, grabbed for one last chance, and felt the triumphant glow of victory. You’ve had the sensations your character will have. Even though you’re writing about a heroic knight in some never-time of mystical wonder, you’re still—in one sense—writing what you know.

I suspect some long-ago teacher coined the maxim after first giving students a writing assignment and listening to a student complain about not knowing what to write. The answer “write what you know” isn’t a bad one in that circumstance, since the students aren’t seeking wider publication, and writing about something familiar can free the student from worrying about research or getting facts wrong.

For a writer who is seeking publication, we’ll have to amend the adage. Write what you know, so long as:

It’s not just a list of boring events from your real life;
You give us (your readers) an interesting plot and engaging characters;
Your descriptions grab us and insert us right into your setting, your story’s world; and
Your writing touches something inside us and helps us feel what your main characters feel.

So what you know may be that ugly incident at the school playground from third grade, but don’t give us the play-by-play of that. Please. Instead, use the feelings of that long-ago afternoon, but make the events happen in a different time and setting, with different characters. If your setting is a far-flung planet and your characters are wearing space suits and packing blaster pistols, you might want to do some research to ensure plausibility. But if you’re true to the emotions you felt on that playground, they’ll come through as genuine in your story and your readers will connect.

So, Beginning Writer, if you’re stuck and don’t know how to get started, try writing what you know, then edit it into what readers want to read. Just some more free advice from—

Poseidon’s Scribe