The Somnambulists

The SomnambulistsI have promised you a half-dozen posts on character creation, and I will deliver.

I’m almost done with my current endeavor (revising a fantastic story with terribly boring characters), and as soon as I’m done, I’ll get to it. I’ve got so many notes on the subject I could probably write a whole book about it.

For now, though, I thought I’d share a bit of exciting news with you. I’ve been in constant contact with my real-life student Christian Roy ever since I became his writing coach earlier this year. During that time, we’ve discussed many of his projects (he has a ridiculous number of manuscripts in various stages of creation), and we stumbled upon a little something he called The Somnambulists. It’s actually related to a series of poems he wrote in the mid-2000′s.

When I urged him to publish his poetry manuscript (which, to be honest, is quite respectable for an author writing in his second language), he told me I was insane. He went on to express a desire to see The Somnambulists, a companion piece to his verse story (Slice Head Slumber), published either before or with the former project.

Naturally, I sought to determine how far along he was with regards to The Somnambulists, and as it turns out, he hasn’t written a single word. Since we both share a vivid interest in dreams and their motives, I offered to pen the story in his stead, and he has agreed.

I’m not sure what form it will take, but I have an idea for a series of short portraits set over a certain span of time. Periodically, Christian will publish some of the poems to coincide with what I’m doing, and together, we’ll tell the whole story.

Men in their forties don’t get this excited very often, so I hope you will forgive me this gushing post. I’ll keep you abreast of my progress and publication plans in this regard.

Next time I write, it will be about character creation, I promise you. I’ll probably use this as an opportunity to develop characters for The Somnambulists. It would be a match made in heaven.

Class dismissed.

Gone Fishing…

Gone Fishing...I am all manner of apologies, but like most of you, I still keep a day job. In this case, I had a pair of manuscripts to review for a friend of mine who works for a publisher (all involved parties have requested not to be mentioned on my site). I suppose they’d rather the book-buying public or the authors not learn of “outside help” being used to revise certain delicate manuscripts.

So I haven’t really been gone fishing, and as a matter of fact, I’m not quite done with the second manuscript. The first one, for your information, was breathtaking. There were a few issues here and there with pacing, but all in all, I have a good feeling it’s going to be quite a successful little volume.

The second one, however, has inspired me to write a whole series of posts on character creation and world building. I know I’m not the best writer out there. I never said I was, but I know how to put together a deep, believable protagonist that readers will learn to love. As an author of fantasy and science fiction, I’m also no stranger to world building, so I believe I’ll have quite a bit to say on the subject.

Suffice it to say: If you’re going to come up with one of the most challenging and fascinating premises and plots I’ve ever heard, please take as much care when creating a setting for your story and populating that universe with characters. There’s nothing sadder than a book that could be brilliant, written in an airy, nearly perfect prose, yet featuring cookie-cutter characters and a derivative world that does nothing to heighten the story.

That being said, I expect to be finished by the end of the week, at which time I will resume my “normal” update schedule.

That is all.

In the Beginning, Part Three

In the Beginning, Part ThreeI’m going to leave the subject of novel or story openings after this post, but I want to show you one last technique before dropping the subject for good.

There’s no sure way of capturing your audience from the first sentence, which makes editors ponder a novel’s first and last sentences longer than any other part of the story.

We’ve seen how to begin a novel with dialogue. For the novice author, I can’t recommend this technique enough. It’s efficient, it’s easy, and it grabs the reader’s attention. It makes the reader feel involved; like the character spoke to him or her directly.

Many writers also start their stories with description. This is a more traditional method, and more than a few upstarts have had success with action-oriented descriptions, while those who opt for a description of the novel’s setting might find themselves facing steeper odds, because the technique has been used millions of times since the long-form narrative’s inception, several thousand years ago.

There are probably more techniques than I could name in a hundred articles. I wager one could start a blog uniquely dedicated to the fine art of launching into a story. Before we abandon this theme, however, I want to tell you about the confessional ending.

Here’s an example of what I mean:

Lord, I do not know if I am guilty or not. I know I must be, but I have no recollection of the deed.

If I did do it, I must set the record straight: I was not acting of my own free will. I was not privy to whatever sensory input triggered the response, and I was never made aware of the actions that led to her disappearance.

The only possible culprit, based on the evidence presented, is my body, and if that is indeed the case, then let my flesh bear the guilt. Let it endure the sentence, and let my soul be absolved of my sins.

It’s an unusual start to any story, but if you could read what comes after this, I think you’d be quite impressed. The author designed the character in a way that makes this confession logical, if not inevitable. Of course, it might not be the ideal method for a fresh young budding author, but in time, it’s a technique that can be extremely effective.

What the confession does, as with any good beginning, is immerse the reader in the character’s thoughts. It makes the reader the protagonist’s confidante, and that is a very effective technique indeed.

From the above paragraph, we understand that someone’s gone missing. It’s unmistakable. We also understand the need for forgiveness. We’re also left with a few questions. Whose confession is this? Why should he blame his body, and not his soul? Why doesn’t he remember committing the crime?

These questions can urge many a reader to keep reading in order to find some answers.

Class dismissed.

PS – Before we part, I urge you to take some time to send me your questions. Better yet, send me the opening paragraphs of your story or novel, and we’ll have a look at them!

In the Beginning, Part Two

In the Beginning, Part TwoLast time, we spoke of starting a novel with dialogue. Over the weekend, a friend and colleague emailed the first sentences to a couple of his novels, and I thought some might be useful in my quest to build a guide to a good novel’s first words.

Today, we’ll look at a few of them.

The first is a fine example of beginning a novel with dialogue, in order to pull the reader into the action. I’ve taken the liberty of changing a few of the words, but the example stands.

“Hand over your house keys.”

Resolve twisted Freddy’s features into a sneer. He imagined himself as some comic book villain as steam billowed out of his mouth in a jagged plume. At his feet, back propped against the door of his own car, Terry growled.

“That’s what this is about? The house?”

“You’ll give me the key, or I swear, Terry, I’ll take it by force.”

I’ll admit it, I’m a huge fan of hard-boiled detective stories and other archetypes of pulp fiction. To me, this intro has all the suspense of a good thriller. Furthermore, it’s full of information.

Character motivation: Freddy wants the keys to a house, and Terry doesn’t want to hand them over.

I love how Freddy imagines himself as a comic book villain. What you see, there, is a nice guy behaving in a way he wouldn’t normally behave. Already, the author has planted the seed of some inner conflict. Whatever he’s doing, Freddy knows it’s not right, but he truly believes he has no choice.

I just thought I’d mention it, since it’s such a potent and explosive way to start a book.

Now, let’s move on to a different way of starting books: Descriptions!

There are many ways of doing this. In Eugenie Grandet, Honoré de Balzac presents the whole street, building by building, using each structure as a metaphor for the people within. It’s done quite cleverly, actually, and it ends with a description of Eugenie’s house, which is oppressive, a perfect way to describe Eugenie’s father.

Mostly, it would be done in a much simpler way. For the free online serial One Night Downtown, Chris Headslice started by stating his character’s emotions, and then chose to describe what was directly in front of the protagonist’s eyes:

Head low, heart on the edge of my throat, fingers splayed and eyes half shut, I tried to peer through my tenement building’s heavy iron-barred glass front door, but I couldn’t make out what lurked on the other side. Dusk made the street a nest of shadows, and the cold air outside, mingling with the tepid air of the lobby, had covered every pane with a thick layer of icy fog. All over the translucent condensation, networks of spidery veins spread their crisscrossing, angular arms. (…)

This gives the reader indispensable clues. We know where the character is, we know how he feels, we know it’s dusk and we know it’s cold outside and warm in the lobby. The outside presents a vague threat, which is the author’s intended hook. Presumably, the reader would pursue the story until he found out more about the nature of the threat.

Now, here’s another sample in which the author chose description in order to begin his story:

The sun had just set on the longest day of the year. All in the span of a heartbeat, summer solstice was nearing its end. He set a tentative hand on the metal pipe. It was cool to the touch. He thought he heard a faint noise from inside it, as though his mind was playing tricks on him. He swore it was the sound of wings flapping – like the flutter of birds in an attic, but sharper, almost like the crack of a whip.

Here, the author has dropped us in the middle of a story, and what he is describing is an action accompanied by an impression. It’s a delicate opening, but effective. With such a technique, the author can then rely on flashbacks to inform us of what came before.

It’s likely at least the first half of the novel will describe all that led to this moment, and that the moment in question is actually the beginning of the novel’s final act.

I’m not saying any of the quoted material is perfect, or that it will invariably lead to a bestseller. I just think they’re good examples of some of the ways in which description can be used to pull the reader into a story.

This week, we’ll look at a few more techniques that can be used to pen your novel’s opening before moving on to other subjects.

Class dismissed.

Our Little Contest

Our Little ContestMy good friend Gabe Durant (from the Read for Free Online Blog) and I have been running a little contest. This is why we started these blogs, actually. Of course, neither of us knows how to run a website, but we figured we’d give it a shot.

Furthermore, these websites are compensation for the work I’m doing with Christian Roy of Beech Street Media.

The funny thing is that I, as a natural student of all things related to my interests, actually took the time to do a bit of “white hat SEO” in an effort to improve my position in Google’s rankings. Fat lot of good it did me.

After a mere few weeks, the Writing Fiction Blog sits in 65th position for my chosen keyword, while Read for Free Online sits in 36th position for his chosen keyword.

The contest is simple enough, and comes in steps. The first one to rank in Google owes the other a bottle of dark rum. The first one to reach the first page in Google must purchase a bottle of fine port for his opponent, and the first one to reach the first position in Google will generously bestow a rather expensive bottle of scotch in the hands of the winner.

I was the first to rank. Therefore – I’ll hold you to your word, Gabe, old man – I’m entitled to the rum. As it stands, however, it really seems that Gabe might earn the port and the Scotch.

That being said, might I beg for your collaboration, dear readers, in an effort to rob Gabe of the first place in this instance? While I’m in a slightly better position to afford the wares than my opponent, I must say I’m quite surprised to have become the underdog in this particular race.

I’ll return soon with more lessons on novel openings.