101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips For Novelists and Screenwriters

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters
Innovative Ways to Jack Your Creative Productivity and Sell What you Write
by Larry Brooks
www.storyfix.com
2009 by Larry Brooks

All rights reserved. No portion of this material may be copied or transferred without written permission from the author.
101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

by Larry Brooks
Introduction
As I begin this modest little tome of writing tips and tricks and I do hope that you, as a writer, noticed the schnazzy alliteration within that opening phrase I can assure you of only two things: 1) there will be pearls here of which you are already quite aware, in which case Ill attempt to cast them in a new and compelling light; and 2) there will be ideas here that are completely new to you. I know this because I made them up. Mostly, though, these value-adding strategies should make sense and, if vaguely familiar, have been skewed to better connect to the desired result: more effective, more efficient writing of your novels and screenplays. And who knows, maybe a few blogs, letters and press releases. Writing is writing, and the means by which it finds wings is still the product of, for better or worse, a process. This book is all about empowering that process. There are no magic pills here. Only vitamins and antidepressants. Credibility is important. At some point you may begin to wonder who came up with all this stuff. If Ive done my job, you shouldnt care (I wouldnt), since chances are youll recognize something of value that you can plug into your own writing process. And if, after that, youre just plain curious, Ill toss an obligatory bio in at the end, where its not in the way. These 101 tips and dare I say, there are many more out there, but Im hoping for a sequel are deliberately presented in random order with no hierarchy or sequential logic whatsoever. I considered lumping them into categories of affinities finding ideas, building stories, creating characters, finding an agent, drinking games, etc. but that seemed a bit too obvious, and obvious is boring.
Rather, I looked at the process of writing itself random, chaotic, scattered a thing often done with no hierarchy or logic whatsoever and concluded that this should be experienced in a similar fashion. Along the storys path the writers mind leaps from thing to thing; one minute you can be pondering your heros backstory and, at any unforeseen moment, be interrupted by the irresistible urge to look up agents or sports trivia on the web. And so it goes here. May you find at least one idea that helps you move toward the birthing of the best story you can write. If I can deliver that, then you wont ask for your money back and well both be delighted with the outcome. Thats any writers dream. If you can touch one heart outside of your own, you have succeeded. Larry Brooks July 2009

Read em and reap. 1. Listen to music as you write.
Great writing has a rhythm to it. A lyrical sensibility. And nothing says rhythm and lyrical sensibility better than music. Movie themes work great for this, especially if the soundtrack you choose fits the theme and mood of the scene you are working on. Which means, youll need lots of soundtracks. If the moods dont align then its all just background noise. Havent come across a scene yet that makes me want to listen to rap. But thats just me. Unless youre writing a book about submarines that delivers a Clancylike focus on technology (good luck finding that soundtrack), and if youve chosen wisely, youll find the music taking you to precisely the place you need to be to evoke the tone and context required on the page. Music speaks to your subconscious mind. And believe me, your subconscious mind is writing along with you. Some claim its the actual author of their work. Your tastes in music dont matter here. In fact, go counter to them if the scene demands it. Hate rock? Blast the Metallica if youre doing a fight scene or a chase. Make it hurt. Hate jazz? Your steamy New Orleans bar scene doesnt care. And if its a love story, relax and allow Sade to take you to that special place, the one you wont admit to personally but cant wait to put on the page. Or Rage Against the Machine,
whatever works for you, romance-wise. Those are the best sex scenes anyhow. My favorite writing music: the soundtrack from The Cider House Rules. A mood for everything under the literary sun. The soundtrack from Once Upon a Time in the West a classic film, by the way is great for suspenseful moments. And in case you think Im speaking only to screenwriters here, youre wrong. Novelists need visualization and emotional resonance every bit as much. In fact, because novelists have to paint the sky with words instead of stage direction, music can be an even more powerful tool for getting there. Another hint: learn to use the repeat button on your CD player. When you find just the right cut, wear it out.
2.
Reverse engineer an existing story book or movie to see how it works.

Thats how Motorola, BMW and the folks who make intercontinental ballistic missiles do it, why not you? There are two ways this can help. How much depends on your level of knowledge about the infrastructure of storytelling (what I like to call story architecture; much more on that later) when you start. 1. If youre new to story architecture, then performing an autopsy on a book or movie you admire or, that you dont, which can be just as helpful will help you understand how and why it works. Or not. 2. And if you do get story structure, then overlaying that understanding onto a given story can, just like watching Roger Federer at the net, help your own game. A story is a machine, in essence, and like any working machine it purrs along with seeming simplicity. Peeking under the hood, taking a wrench and a cutting saw to it, can help you cement your grasp of story architecture in a way that fumbling with it in your own stories cannot. Story architecture is easier said than done, and much more easily comprehended when witnessed. How is this done? Scene by scene, you simply summarize what happens in the book or movie you are ripping into, both specifically and generically: Scene 1 (story-specific): Ralph meets the girl hell ultimately marry. But he thinks he hates her because shes dating his nemesis, so hes rude and arrogant in her presence. She thinks hes an ass. Scene 1 (generic): Hero meets the object of his forthcoming quest, but doesnt recognize her as such, thus adopting behavior that will make the quest more formidable down the road. When youve done that for some 60 scenes, believe me, youll know more about story architecture than you thought you did (see Tip 6
#84). Youll experience how the writer followed standard story structure, and what scenes represent specific story milestone. And, you just might find a generic roadmap for your own story that is better than the one youd planned. You could even fill in the blanks with your own story points and have the bases covered. Which wont happen, of course, but at a minimum youll see how your story could work.
3.
Name characters after real people who represent what youre going for.
Once you name a character after someone real, you cant help but picture them in your mind as you write. It could be because of looks, their place in the world or their character. If it helps the character come alive for you, if it leads you somewhere and establishes descriptions and limits for your characters, even before youve come to know them, this becomes a powerful technique. It could be a friend or a public figure, like a movie star. In fact, movie stars are good candidates for this because you can imagine how theyd inhabit the role. If Clint Eastwood is your character placeholder, for example, and you cant imagine him saying a particular line of dialogue youve written (like, sorry to bother you, kind sir, but could you please pass the butter knife?) then it just might not be the right line. When youre finished with the draft you can change the name (thank the Geek Gods for word processing software). Lets face it, Clint probably doesnt want to appear in your masterpiece anyhow. Which conveniently leads us to the next tip
4.
Post pictures of your placeholder character surrogates on your desk or computer.

This is good for all the same reasons as #3. Whatever gets you closer to your goal. Piece of advice here if you choose people from your life, make sure the emotional baggage they evoke (i.e., they make you warm, they piss you off, they turn you on, etc.) matches that of the character they represent. A visual placeholder is even more powerful than a name, so choose wisely.
5.
Copy something. Dissect and then emulate a story that is similar to yours.
That one may not go down easy. But dont shoot the messenger just yet. Its a tip, not a mandate. We writers need all the angles we can find. This is similar to Tip #2, but with a different agenda. That was to study and understand story architecture in a way you can apply to your own story. This one is more about getting unstuck. We all write ourselves into dark little corners. Usually we have to backtrack a ways and, in the next draft (or, if youre blueprinting before you write, then in your story sequence) make a different choice. In that case youre looking for and interviewing choices, and one of the ways to inventory your options is to find a similar story and see how those situations have been handled by someone else. It isnt really copying, because youll have to adapt what you see to what you apply. Its like watching a cooking show we all gotta eat. By the way, doesnt matter if youre working on a novel or screenplay, you can use either as a deconstruction tool. In fact, novelists can find quick access to story examples by renting a DVD and sitting down with a pad of legal paper and a pen.
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6.
Stuck? Verbally tell your story to a friend. Just be careful who you pick on.
Try this and feel the magic happen. Its never failed me yet. Chances are you feel very alone with your storytelling problem. Sure, youve told others about your project using broad strokes. But now here you are, staring at the screen and considering all sorts of unpleasant things to do to it because youre frozen tighter than Ted Williams. (Dont get that one? Google him with the word corpse). Instead, do this. Find a warm pulse and go for a walk. Or sit down with someone, anyone you trust, anywhere youre comfortable and not distracted. Ask permission to tell them your story. If they know you well, so much the better. Tell that person your story, beat by beat. Pause to set things up as necessary, to create context that adds clarity. Dont skip anything, but stick to the high points (see Tip #96; this becomes your script for this telling). Theres no explanation for what will happen next. Dont expect your listener to come up with the Big Idea that will solve your story problem. Nope, the solution will come from you. Every time. Why? Because you already know the context of each story point and if you dont, thats your story problem right there and whatever has caused your problem resides in the hidden shadow of context, nuance and execution. When you say it out loud, any holes and illogic in your story will scream out at you. Itll just happen, a bolt of orgasmic storytelling lightning, and youll recognize it the solution when it comes. Which it will. If it doesnt, tell the story to someone else until it does. Hey, you created this story problem, and only you can fix it. Because the fix relies on the nature of the creation, which only you understand. Trust me, this works. Then just hug the person listening, tell her or him they are a genius, and get back to work. 11
7.
Study screenwriting books if youre a novelist, novel writing books if youre a screenwriter.
Take a trip to the dark side and regard the craft of storytelling from another point of view. Some novelists tend to look down their noses at screenwriters, yet they suck up screenwriting books like valium for the literary soul. Why? Because nothing says structure quite as clearly as a screenplay, and screenwriting books (especially Screenplay, by Syd Field) make it clear and accessible. Viewed through a slightly different and more liberal lens, the structure taught to screenwriters directly applies to novelists. Only without the fascist inflexibility Hollywood demands. And yet, screenwriters steer clear of novel-writing books like a literary plague. Why? Because screenwriters dont care all that much about sentences, and they perceive (inaccurately) that novelwriting books are all about active verbs and dangling participles. They do care about dialogue, certainly frankly, theyre better at it than most novelists but grammar and writing elegance isnt in the game for them. Story is. And nothing defines story quite as well as the fundamentals of screenwriting.
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8.
Play what if? with your initial idea, see where it takes you.
This is huge. Because what if? can help you land on a killer idea that becomes the landscape for a rich story. It can also help you develop your storyline in creative and unexpected ways (the death of a killer idea is a predictable sequence of execution). The what if? concept is simple. Just ask the question about anything and everything, and then apply it to genre. For example, if youre a mystery writer, ask what if? a murder happened, and then wrap it in context and circumstance. If youre a thriller writer, ask what if? the unthinkable is about to happen. It works for romance, erotica, historical any genre you can name. What if? is, in essence, the immediate introduction of stakes and conflict, the two most essential elements of fiction. You can play what if? anywhere, anytime. If youre in a museum, ask what if? someone steals a painting before your eyes? What if? security guards pounce you and accuse you of stealing a statue? What if? you get to your car and a piece of art is inexplicably there in the back seat? What if? you were seduced by the security guard at closing time? What if? he looked just like Brad Pitt? What if?, in that case, your name is Frank and you sort of liked the idea? What if? the doors bolted shut and you couldnt get out of the place? The possibilities are endless. Anywhere, anytime. Lets say you already have a creative idea as a starting point for a story, and youre having trouble moving it forward, struggling to deepen and layer it into a compelling story. What if? is a tool that can unblock you. Use your initial what if? as a starting point, and then begin sequencing subsequent what ifs from there. Youll find yourself traveling down different story paths, each with its own thread of what if?-inspired emerging storylines. From there you can branch off the branches, all keeping an eye on your pulse rate to sense which options excite you.
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To prove to yourself this works, take a finished work either yours or a book or movie you know well and tell the story with a series of what if? scenarios. For example: What if Air France Flight 800 was really bombed out of the sky, instead of the fuel-tank explosion accident that the FAA would have us believe? What if someone caught it on videotape? What if they were making love on the beach in front of a video camera? What if they took it to authorities, who later deny it? What if the couple mysteriously disappear shortly thereafter? What if a few years later the rumor of the tape reaches a cynical ex-military investigator who is already suspicious of government cover-ups based on firsthand knowledge? And on it goes, until a fully realized story takes place. As you play the game, you make creative choices about what to keep and what to discard, building on the keepers. This story was the #1 New York Times bestseller Night Fall, by Nelson Demille, the first book to knock The DaVinci Code out of the top spot. As a side note, Demilles solution for his ending what if all the players are gathered to finally out the truth, and the meeting happens to be in the North tower of the World Trade Center on the morning of September 11th, 2001 might have been the undoing of the book, which quickly faded and allowed DaVinci to again assume the throne. (Note: deus ex machina see Tip #61 never works as a story device, and bestseller lists reflect author brand fame more than story quality.) Try it. This is one of the most powerful techniques available to writers at the story development stage.
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It is also (see Tip #98) a technique that is far more useful as a preplanning and blueprinting tool than a draft-writing tool. Organic writers who commit to one thread of what ifs? from the outset miss the opportunity to explore different and perhaps better ideas as the story unfolds. Or if they do sense a better option mid-draft, theyll have to either start over and trash the draft-in-progress, or revise what they have to an extent that anything they attempt to rescue may find itself force-fed into the mix. Such is our hesitance to give up that which we have already created. Which is puzzling, because organic writers who argue against the pre-planning of story architecture do so in the name of stifled creativity. Precisely the opposite is the case. Get downright whacky with your what if?-ing. There are no rules, only ideas. Inject the unexpected. Watch what happens to your story.
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9.
Looking for a plot? Kick around your starting point with a bunch of friends. The drunker the better.
Remember that old childhood game where one kid whispers something into the ear of the next, who then whispers it to the next, and then on down the line to see what the last kid says and have a laugh about how the story changed? Out of the mouths of babes. This can work for you, too. Try this at your next writing group meeting, or during a break from playing cards. Determine a sequence of exchanges, usually just going around the room. Throw out your initial story idea, or the story point youre struggling with. Then the next person uses it to create the next story point in the narrative. Then the next. There are no rules other than no criticism allowed and no limits. See where it goes. It might lead you to a breakthrough.
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10.
Imagine your novel as a movie. Or imagine your screenplay as a novel.

Story is always about atmosphere and nuance. At least good ones are. One of the best ways to go there is to think outside your comfort zone and imagine your story as a fully produced film. Or your screenplay as an eloquently rendered novel. Movies are visual. Is your novel visual enough to evoke the same sense of place and time as the movie adaptation? Do the characters chew up the screen? Does the soundtrack add something (yes novelists, you can and should write the literary equivalent of a soundtrack into your stories), does it jack your adrenaline to the red line? Novels are introspective and deep. Is your screenplay going deep enough, as deep as the novel upon which it could have been based, or might be written after your movie hits it big? Does it have a narrative voice, an essence that marks the story as something significant and relevant? Sparks might fly, but if even one sentence of your work improves because of it, this is worth considering.
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11.
Outlining your novel? Consider writing it as a screenplay first.

Seriously. Who knows, you might get two saleable properties out of the deal. The previous tip suggests imagining your novel as a movie for the purpose of giving it sensual texture and cinematic impact. This tip suggests actually writing the screenplay itself as an exercise in story architecture. If youre an organic writer, if you absolutely refuse to do any preplanning of your story architecture in other words, if you refuse to outline and there are more of you than there are of me and my kind then this tip is one of two things for you: complete lunacy or perhaps your saving grace. Nobody, and I mean nobody, writes a screenplay without knowing the following things before they begin (oh sure, they may start on a draft, but when they hit the inevitable wall theyll go back to this point and do this): the ending, the beginning, the first plot point, the mid-point context shifting plot twist, the second plot point, and the general arc of the character. Imagine if a novelist knew these things, too, before they began writing. How much more could you do with your scenes if you knew, in a contextual sense, what they were leading up to? If the lack of knowing these elements, or even recognizing them, is what plagues your novel, then I strongly recommend that you study screenwriting even at the most basic level and tell your story in that format. It will force your story into a structure that works. Every time. I like to legitimately tell the world that the first draft of my first published novel sold on the first submission, and that it took only 20 minutes to implement the few changes my editor requested. All true, no exaggeration there. Heres whats just as true: I adapted that story (Darkness Bound) from my own screenplay. And that screenplay had gone through some 19 revisions, most at the behest of Hollywood types who had story notes.
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My unproduced (but optioned twice) screenplay became a detailed outline for what would become a minor bestseller. This works. Its the most productive way to outline your story imaginable. And by learning about screenwriting, youll tip your novelist learning curve to the nearly vertical.
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12.
Write a book review of your novel or a movie review of your screenplay.

Even if you havent finished it. Especially if you havent finished it. Pretend youre Roger Ebert (then again, maybe not a good idea) or someone from Publishers Weekly. Assuming the hard-to-please aesthetic sensibilities of a reviewer, be honest about how your work holds up under such scrutiny. Reviews identify what works and what doesnt in a story. If you can get outside yourself and imagine what a reviewer would say, you just might find an opportunity to take your work to the next level. Or, discover a new outlet for your writing. Using this exercise as a beginning, Ive published over 20 book reviews in major newspapers and online. Now if theyd only let me review my own books
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13.
Seek out every adjective or adverb in your manuscript, then hit Delete.
Just after I sold my first novel to Penguin Putnam in 1999, I attended a Big Daddy annual conference for mystery and thriller writers, called Bouchercon (after some dude named Boucher, of whom I had never heard). The keynote speaker at the banquet was Elmore Leonard of whom I had certainly heard, and read who presented his own personal Ten Rules of writing. Frankly I cant remember them all, but one stuck in my head like a misplaced catheter: eliminate each and every adjective and adverb from your manuscript. At a glance this seemed a rather radical approach. In reading Leonard, one quickly observes that he follows his own advice, and when a descriptor does appear, which they do, you can imagine him lighting his 63rd Marlboro of the day and staring at the screen for an hour before reluctantly going there. I didnt, and havent, and wont, follow that advice. But it did create an acute awareness of the risk of too many adjectives and adverbs, and a subscription to the Less Is More belief system (see Tip #88). If youve been told you overwrite, or if you sense it, or if you just want to see what happens, go back and clean out all the adjectives and adverbs you can find. See how it streamlines things, and how it forces you to use more active descriptions that crank up the volume in your scenes. When you ask your readers to sense and feel the story, rather than telling them what to sense and feel, they are sucking into the action in a way that makes the story sensual and rich.
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14.
Stop reading writing books and blogs.

This from a guy wh0 has just launched a major writing blog of his own. Articles about writing can sometimes bring you down (note: I try to avoid that at all costs, by the way). Many are riddled with frustration and negativism, in a craft that will summon and challenge every shred of self respect you have in you (see, I just went negative goes with the territory when writing about writing). Or they describe a bar that is so high you cant imagine playing at that level (yeah, been accused of that one more than once). The real risk, though, is avoidance. You can get hooked on how-to articles, writing magazines, writing conferences, writing groups, writing cruises, blogs and informal lunches with other writers to an extent that one day you look up and realize youre doing more commiserating about writing than actually putting fingers to the keyboard. Then again, see Tip #75. Because if youre new to the writing game, chances are you need all the writing books and blogs you can consume. Get used to contradictory advice, folks. Its the hallmark of the writing workshop business. And thats not a bad thing workshops dont exist to tell you how to do things they exist to allow you to discover what works for you.
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15.
Re-conceive your story in another genre.

Rumor has it that George Lucas conceived Star Wars as a western that takes place in outer space. Harrison Ford on a tin horse. Talk about two separate genres, and yet when you watch the Star Wars films with that in mind, you see the hallmarks of the western genre in play. This technique may help you unblock your writers block, which, by the way, is nothing more than one of two things: youve fallen out of love with your story, or youve written yourself or outlined yourself into a creative corner. A change of scenery, of context and of language, all of which are specific to different genres, might just put the love back into your storytelling. If you dont read multiple genres the potential here wont be obvious to you. But if you do, notice how proven dramatic themes are not genre-specific: the pursuit of love, safety, answers, salvation, hope, retribution they are all universal and timeless. And who knows, maybe the reason youre blocked is that your story is screaming for another genre anyway.
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16.
Watch Dr. Phil.

Read Dale Carnegie. Order The Road Less Traveled. Watch Oprah. Attend a self-help seminar. Why? Because fiction is about how characters behave and why, what they think, how they feel. In other words, human psychology 101. The more bizarre you make your characters, the more you need to understand about the psychology of it all. It isnt as simple as implying that your bad guy kills women because his mother abused him. Or that a woman keeps hooking up with strangers in search of a good beat down because she thinks she can heal them, the result of a disapproving father. Leave your boilerplate, locker room explanations on the shelf and really dig into what makes human beings tick. At least, before you try to justify their tock. This understanding isnt just for the purpose of creating a credible relationship between human action and reaction in your stories. It also becomes context for whatever means you use to illuminate the backstories of your main characters, both protagonist and antagonist. We need a peek into a past that created these heroes and monsters, as well as the personal demons and fears that stand in their way. And when you do lay it on us, the more psychologically valid it is in an accepted academic sense, the truer it will ring on the page. Readers can sniff out contrived pop psychology baloney from the Barnes & Noble parking lot.
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17.
Take your favorite old stories and make them contemporary.

Imagine Gone With The Wind as a movie set in Beverly Hills. Imagine Top Gun as a novel about bloggers instead of pilots. In the movie Enchanted, a princess is propelled through time and lands in mid-town Manhattan, with her Prince Charming and the Evil Queen right behind. It worked. One of my favorite films of all time was Once Upon a Time In the West, by the infamous Sergio Leone. Charles Bronson, Jason Robards, Henry Fonda, Claudia Cardinale if you havent seen it, do. Its a classic story about greed and revenge that could work in any genre, any era, any arena (see Tip #55). Ive always wanted to recast that story in a contemporary way, as a novel, and someday I just might. And if I do Sergio wont mind, because even if it becomes the next DaVinci Code, he probably wouldnt recognize it (perhaps because hes dead). Such is the universal nature of those themes. And if you beat me to it, more power to you. I probably wont recognize it, either, so have at it. The classics got there for a reason. One of them is that the story they tell is universal. You may just ignite a great concept by imagining your favorite childhood tale in a new genre and timeframe.
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18.
Go there. Personally.
Get a firsthand feel of the setting of your story. You can find virtually anything and everything on the internet these days, including pictures and videos of the setting for your story. But sometimes the vivid, sensual reality of a place cannot be translated to the page unless you actually feel the sand between your toes. If youre stuck, try going there. If the ambiance of where your story unfolds cant unblock you, then you have a bigger issue, because blocks are, at their heart, the fruit of a broken story. And besides, if you file a Schedule C as a writer, the trip could be at least partly tax deductible. But dont tell the I.R.S. you got that from me.
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19.
Forget most of what your high school creative writing teacher told you.
They meant well, but the rules of writing publishable fiction have evolved. No longer is a lengthy description of the setting of each scene and the wardrobe of each character required. The more common and disconnected to the plot these factors are, the less words you should devote to them. Assume your readers know what the interior of a taxi smells like and get on with it. Another classroom myth debunked: sentence fragments are permitted. If you handle them right. As in, artfully. There are no Queens rules of English when it comes to dialogue. None whatsoever. In fact, the less your characters sound like your high school English teacher, the better. Nothing says amateur like stiff, overly written exchanges between folks with absolutely no sense of humor, irony, sarcasm or edge. Who think the word hip refers to a joint next to their pelvis. Someone along the writing road has probably told you to avoid writing in first person. That its best left to the more experienced. Not true. Choose the voice that best fits your tastes and the demands of the story. Slang is not only permissible in dialogue in fact, its encouraged its welcome in narrative exposition, too. But only so far as it fits the stylistic context of the storys narrative voice. This issue falls into the its art after all category. Which means, rules dont apply. You get to make them up, and you get to live with the consequences. So choose your violations carefully.
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20. Try out a different voice.

Story not working? Try telling it in first person. Get inside the head of your narrative protagonist and go on a bit of a rant. Dish the attitude and the witty bon mots. If your story is complex and requires multiple points of view, then forget about first person (see Tip #52 for an exciting exception) and stick to third person omniscient. Just make sure you dont switch point of view within any single given scene. Then again, first person is like kinky sex. Its liberating. Quick trips to the attitude bar and the inherent hidden self-dialogue allow you to burrow deep and wide into your character without distracting from the pace of your story. You wont know if you like it until you try it. And you shouldnt try it until you read a lot of it. I recommend Nelson Demille and Harlan Coben, but there are hundreds of first person masters out there. This tip is strictly experiential. Give it a shot simply to see how it feels. If it turns out your writing comes alive in unexpected ways by switching from third to first person, then this may be the most important tip of all.
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21.
Keep a list of new ideas. Write them down as titles.

Every writer has lived this little nightmare: you come up with an idea that excites you, and later you cant remember it. Heres a rocket science idea: write it down. Which means, keep a notepad or portable recorder in your car and office, or handy near your writing workstation. The acid test of an idea isnt whether you easily forget it or not, its whether remembering it and playing with it makes it grow wings. A great idea has a way of lingering, and a great title is a wonderful way to begin expanding that idea into a storyline. Even if you have to park it until you finish something else.
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22. Pay attention to song lyrics.

Seriously. I kid you not. Songs are really short stories set to melody, and often they are steaming with artful irony, poignant characterization and emotional resonance. If nothing else, hearing great lyrics might send you to a creative place that empowers your storytelling. You may even hear a song that tells a story you want to finish in the form of a novel or screenplay. You may hear writing that touches your heart and inspires you to get back to the keyboard. When you hear a lyric that rocks your world, write it down. Theres a chance you may have just stumbled upon a theme that becomes your first bestseller. Because if it moved you, itll move your readers, too. But be careful not to use that lyric in your work without permission from the songwriter. Nothing says litigation like a pissed off rock star. Contact the American Society of Composers, Authors and Publishers (ASCAP) or Broadcast Music, Inc. (BMI) to help get in touch with lyricist and rights-holder of the piece that you seek to use.
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23. Actually write out the backstory of your main characters. Then psychoanalyze them.
Backstory is tricky in the hands of the unenlightened. It can weigh your story down like a pair of concrete swim flippers. Or, it can imbue the work with texture and empathetic energy. Definition of backstory: the life experiences, good and bad, that have created the programming, preferences, tastes and belief systems that drive the decisions, actions and feelings of the characters in the story you are telling. With backstory the iceberg analogy always applies: what you see above the surface is only ten percent of what exists hidden below the surface. Hidden is the operative word here too much backstory is not only unnecessary, itll put the brakes on your narrative pacing. Just give us a glance. Keep the iceberg on the horizon of your story, but never on the main stage unless it surfaces as a major story point. Avoid scenes that are entirely backstory (this being one of the rules that you can break when called for thats the art of storytelling, you get to make that call). When writing in first person, backstory is easily revealed through snap flashes of character memory. Such as: When I saw her face it reminded me of my mother when she was drunk, which was every Friday through Sunday, including church. Flashbacks are not for the purpose of illustrating backstory. Flashbacks are for inserting the requisite groundwork for plotting not character, as a rule that occurred prior to the timeline of your story. Dialogue is a great backstory tool have one character briefly tell about something from their past even as a thinly veiled reference that illuminates their current behavior and thinking.
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24. Work on your writing every single day.

Writing is not a job, its a lifestyle. For many its an addiction. A day without storytelling is a day without furthering your writing dream. If you can write every day, even a little, thats an ideal discipline to cultivate. Even just a few minutes takes you forward. And if you cant actually write, there are few excuses in the world short of death and dismemberment that warrant the avoidance of at least thinking about your story. Which does count as working on your story. Sometimes the most creative and productive work on your novel or screenplay takes place in your head. This is as obvious as it is universally true, and yet some writers simply get out of the habit of writing. Get addicted to it. Feel guilty when you dont do it.
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25.
Stop avoiding writing by doing writing-like activities instead.

Like hanging out in bookstores. Like reading about writing. Like attending too many redundant writing conferences. All of those are wonderful, by the way, unless they become avoidance mechanisms. Which they can easily become. You probably got into this avocation because at some point you have experienced the act of writing as pure bliss. But like any form of bliss, it can be transitory and fickle. Bliss or no bliss, writing is always hard work. Accept that, and derive more joy from the work by focusing on the big picture and acknowledging the progress your days work has manifested. Sometimes it takes courage to write. Step up and get on it. Confusion and writers block is the devil laughing at your writing dream. (See Tip #34.) Doing writer-like activities instead of working on your story is the devil telling you a lie.
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26. Start a blog.

It can jumpstart your creativity. It can resurrect the muse. It did that for me. The more you immerse yourself into your writing the better your writing will be. Universal truth. Earlier I suggest you cut down on reading blogs about writing if you use that time as an excuse to not write. But writing them is another thing altogether. Its almost impossible to become blocked if youre writing something. By writing about writing, you are immersing yourself in the context of the craft, which will serve to refuel your confidence and energy. Blogging is like writing erotica. The more you write about it, the more you desire the real thing. And the more you desire something, the sweeter it is when you get it. For one thing, chances are youll enjoy writing your blog less than you enjoy writing your novel, and the process will send you back to your manuscript. If thats not the case, consider the possibility that youre writing the wrong novel, or at least writing it in the wrong way with the wrong ideas. Which becomes something to blog about, actually.
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27.
Schedule yourself.
In Tip #24 we looked at finding the time to write each and every day. But your days are busy, and its a good idea to dedicate a specific block of time to write. If you have to sacrifice some sleep, ask yourself how important your writing is to you. James Patterson got out of bed at 4:00 am every day to work on his novels. Now thats dedication and discipline. Why did he do this? Because he happened to have a day job as CEO of the worlds largest advertising agency (J. Walter Thompson), the youngest head cheese ever in that firm, which consumed the rest of his waking hours. Turned out pretty good for him, I think. Behind every enduring writing superstar is a work ethic that rarely gets air-time. Same for great athletes and entrepreneurs. Sleep is optional. Find your sweet spot during the day or night and make it sacred. Inject some serious discipline in your writing life.
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28. Raise your writing bar. Then belly up.

Stories can be like love affairs. In the beginning it's all so exciting. Each day brings new bliss. Another sensual, orgasmic experience. The future looks so bright. The object of your desire can do no wrong. And then reality sets in. Bliss turns to banality. Desire turns to dejection. You begin to doubt. And nothing kills your love affair or your story quicker than doubt. Maybe youre settling. Maybe youre jumping into story ideas before their time, or making love to concepts that simply arent strong enough. But you stick with it because you're committed. You will force this thing into existence if it's the last thing you write. And it very well could be. Not all seemingly great ideas make great stories. Sometimes your first round draft choice turns out to be a bust. Sometimes you really do need a long courtship before you tie the knot. More often, though, a good idea tanks because it doesnt get the development it deserves. The writer settles. The more difficult the process you bring to it, the easier it is to settle. And nothing is more difficult than writing draft after draft in search of your story when you aren't in command of story architecture in the first place. Are you in command of the elements of story telling excellence? Tell yourself that your next project will be your breakout. That itll have the stuff to become a bestseller or a blockbuster spec script sale. Understand what that will take, and then dont settle for less than a process that covers all the bases. And yes Virginia, there is a process. Its called story architecture.
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The writing forums and blogs are full of commiseration about works-in-progress and a writing process that is totally organic and therefore lengthy and imprecise. Trust me on this the only organic process that is completely efficient notice I didnt say effective, Im not dissing that is one executed by someone who already has complete command of the basics of storytelling structure, content and form. People like Stephen King or Dennis Lehane or Michael Connelly. If you own it like they do, then start drafting, you don't need a plan. It all flows out of your head like sonnets from Shakespeare. Those of us with lesser command of the craft are, by definition, using the drafting process to discover the story, which is like trying to learn to fly an airplane without ground school first. The temptation to settle can be overwhelming, or worse, insidiously transparent. Good isnt good enough to get published. Editors desks are piled high with good manuscripts. You need a story and an execution that sparkles with originality, craft, thematic and emotional resonance and, most of all, commercial appeal. Even if you consider yourself the most literary of writers. Literature is just a story that really, really works. Is your concept wildly original and inherently appealing? Is your hero worthy of empathy and hope? Are the varied technical milestones of story pacing and construction all in the right place, rendered with just the right touch? Does the story evolve, do the characters arc in a way that touches the heart and mind of the reader? Does the ending strike just the right cord? Is the writing efficient, sparkling with personality and wit and warmth and unique voice? Maybe this isnt as easy as it looks after all. By raising the bar, I mean refusing to write a story that doesnt hold the inherent potential to achieve the greatness required to grab that editor by the throat. Or, one that wont get the story architecture process it deserves.
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Many newer writers set off down the storytelling path on the strength of a sparkling idea, without regard or thought to the myriad criteria and multiple dramatic elements that go into a successful story. Or, story architecture. But for the writer who is willing to invest in that process - whether the road is organic or blueprint-driven - the rewards are great. Orgasmic, even. So how do you know what the story architecture criteria and elements are? The quest for that answer defines the writing life itself. Another book, another time.
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29. Put your energies into finding an agent instead of a publisher.

I like to say there are no dumb questions when it comes to writing. But there are dumb questions when it comes to the issue of trying to sell a novel or screenplay especially a screenplay without an agent. One of them is this: can I save some money and just sell my work without an agent? Sure you can. You can also buy a lottery ticket and never have to work again. The odds are about the same. Asking if you need an agent to sell a novel to New York publishers or a screenplay to Hollywood is like asking if you need an accountant because youve just won that lottery. If your manuscript is good enough to sell, the metaphor fits. The trouble with notions such as this is that it actually happens. Once in a faded blue moon. And in the even rarer instance in which a book or screenplay has sold without an agent and then becomes a commercial or critical hit about the same odds as winning the lottery twice it perpetuates the fantasy that you can do it, too. You cant. Not really. Its just not gonna happen. In the case of screenplays, they wont even open an envelope containing an unsolicited screenplay take that literally and where books are concerned, youd have to query first and then your book goes into what is known as the slush pile, to be read by part-time lit major living in Hoboken getting paid ten bucks an hour. The good news is that its actually easier to land an agent than it is to sell your work directly, and involves much the same process. Put your money where the odds are and sell smart. What youll pay an agent to accomplish what youll never accomplish on your own is worth every dime.
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30. Dont sweat your prose. Do sweat your story.

This one is a little like learning there is no Santa Clause. Newsflash for writers: if there was and he was an editor, he wouldnt give a rip about the sweet lyric rhythm of your prose. Most people get into writing because they love the sound of their own prose. People have told them you ought to write because their letters and emails play like song lyrics. So we bring this love of words to our attempts to craft fiction, and thus fall into the first and deepest pit awaiting new writers: overwriting. Purple writing. Too many adjectives. Writing that clutters things up. Pretty writing that doesnt tell a great story. The thing is, editors know they can fix mediocre writing. But they dont have the patience to fix a broken story. You can sell a great story thats poorly written in terms of its prose, but you cant sell a lousy story no matter how well the words sing. Read the bestsellers and youll see that the longer and more profitably someone publishes stories, the less flowery and elegant their prose. This is a seductive trap for amateur critics, including newer writers, because when the see the efficiency and clarity of, say, John Grishams writing, they label it vanilla and begin to think they can do just as well. If thats you, then this is one of the best tips in this book. Pretty words are like a gorgeous actress who cant utter a line. No work for her. Pretty words dont count in New York. Great stories do. Writing is like the air. The best air is fresh, completely void of odor. Sometimes a hint of scent works, sometimes it doesnt. But almost always, an overwhelming stench one persons perfume is another persons need to fumigate will get you rejected. Clear the air in your writing. Write with refreshingly efficient and easy prose. Like a clean breeze. Words that go down easy. And then tell your story with ferocity and complete mastery of the storytelling craft.
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31.
Read book and movie reviews. As many as you can.

Not because youre shopping for your next read. But to begin to sense what catches the eye of a reviewer, what they notice, both positive and negative. Elsewhere Ive suggested that you actually write a review of your work as an exercise in objectivity. Reading published book and movie reviews, however, is a different experience, one designed to teach more than to evaluate your work. Reviewers, if theyre any good, tear into a book or movie with an insiders understanding of story architecture, characterization and narrative power, and you can learn a lot if you listen for these insights. If youve read the book or seen the movie in question, so much the better. So once youve finished reading a book or a seeing a movie, really study the reviews and see what there is to learn. Trust me, theres plenty.
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32. Think of yourself as an insider, a professional in the writing business.

Imagine yourself sitting at an editors desk in a publishing house or in a movie production office. The former has a view of Central Park, the latter a parking lot and a Dairy Queen. Youve read three manuscripts already that morning you can do this because if you arent hooked by page 10 you stop reading, and this is usually what happens and then your beloved manuscript surfaces as the next victim. What are you, the acquisitions editor, looking for? Whats hot in the market now? Or better, what is anticipated to be hot down the road (see Tip #72)? What genre does this fit into? What is the audience for this, and what will they think? Been there, read that? Same ol same ol? Recycled Grisham? Wannabe Mamet? Derivative? Boring? Trite? Sophomoric? Pretentious? What will your boss, the senior editor or studio head, say when you come to them with this project and bet your job on it? Have you given this industry insider, this cynical, underpaid, hardto-please, burned out, high-standards agent or editor, perhaps a writer in her or his own right, something to get excited about? Is your work good enough for this person? You already know youre too close to your work to be objective. And you know that your friends, who arent close to the work, are too close to you to be honest. So if you can get outside yourself and perhaps, over yourself just a little, for just a moment, you may sense something in your manuscript that you suspect might be a yellow flag. And when that happens, its time to head for the pit and do a tuneup.
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33. Ask yourself if youre writing for the right reasons.

Stop focusing on the outcome and immerse yourself in the process. (See Tip #101.) Understand why you write. Maybe its for the wrong reasons. If youre writing to get rich, thats the wrong reason. Because chances are youre emulating a bestselling author or an A-list screenwriter, and that never works. If youre writing to invent a new literary genre or format, then set your sites on an obscure publisher from a third world country, or more likely, a self-published marketing strategy. If youre writing to get something off your chest, you risk infusing your work with propaganda at the expense of dramatic exposition. Leave the preaching for Sunday morning. If youre writing because theres a story inside you that wont go away, pay attention, thats the universe calling your name. If youre writing because youve read a published book and you think you can do just as well, make sure youve studied the craft of storytelling before you dive in. Professionals make it look easy, and its anything but. If youre writing because you find bliss in the process, an escape otherwise impossible to know, then youre home. Kick off your shoes and stay a while. If youre writing because you came close last time and you just know this next one will hit, good for you. But make sure you understand why your last one didnt quite break through, and apply that learning. Writing requires forward motion at all times. There is something to learn with every literary experience, both from a reading and a writing perspective. At the end of the day there are no right or wrong reasons, because its just not that simple. Its when there is one driving rationale and motivation, you need to take pause and examine it. 43
Its not wrong to dream of money and fame, but without some inner drive to tell a story and a sense of ecstasy and release as you do, itll never happen. The only people who should write for money are already published.
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34. Stuck? Write something terrible.

So youre stuck. Writers block. You have no new ideas, no clue where to go next with your project, not a single notion how to fix the hole youve written yourself into. You have two choices: do nothing, or do something. The mistake is to do nothing in anticipation of the arrival of some inspiring Epiphany that will propel you back into your story. Beneath all the excuses for not writing there are two primary explanations: you have fallen out of love with your story, or your story is, in fact, broken. Both can freeze you stiffer than Nicole Kidmans forehead. Paradoxically, the reason you fall out of love with your story is the great likelihood that it is broken. Subconsciously you may have realized that the story just isnt working, even given its best execution. Youve executed your outline as planned, and you were sure the outline was solid, but here you are at the mid-point and nothing about the story is buzzing with energy. Shakespeare himself couldnt save this thing. Or maybe you just started writing before you did due diligence to story architecture a common and often fatal mistake and here you are, stuck in the middle with no exit strategy. If your story is broken, if you are stuck the trick is to fix whats wrong with it (see Tip #6), as opposed to rationalizing your creative draught as something springing from the rest of your life. The more you understand about story architecture and the criteria for conceptualization, characterization, theme and scene writing all of which, by the way, do have a list of criteria for excellence - the greater your chances of diagnosing whats wrong and then saving the patient with a little creative story surgery. The best fix is to go back to basic story training. Bone up on storytelling fundamentals to discover where you went of track. Trust me, minutes after checking your story against the known criteria for storytelling excellence and if you dont know them, 45
theres your problem youll trip over your blockage and be able to toss it aside. Baring that, if you are still in love with your story and are sure it is structurally sound, and youre still stuck, there remains one thing to do: Something. Write anything. Literally sit down and try to write your way out of the corner youve written yourself into. Force it. The reason you havent been writing is that you dont have anything worthy to write. So there you sit, waiting to be sure your time isnt wasted writing something that doesnt fit. Well, sitting there wasting time waiting for that Epiphany doesnt fit, either. Proactive is always better than waiting where writing is concerned. Heres the miracle of this tip: you wont write crap for long. This is like loosening up a stiff muscle after a short time the creative juices will begin to flow and youll either realize what you need to fix after all, or like someone who has veered off the path and wanders aimlessly until they stumble back to it, youll find yourself back in the groove. Maybe thats the Epiphany youve been waiting for.
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35.
Proofread everything. Twice. Or more.

Clean writing is like your word. It defines you. It is the gauge of your credibility. I dont think Ive ever not found a typo or a way to improve on what Ive written when I go back through it. Im talking about emails, blogs, social media posts, twitters, grocery lists, whatever in addition to the obvious need to proof your manuscripts. Especially emails. We dash them off in a hurry, and when theyre destined for agents or publishers or other writers, either in the form of queries (which are still better rendered as hard copy sent via U.S. Mail) or quick notes, theyre all the recipient has to identify us. A typo is like something hanging out of your nose. And you wouldnt go to a job interview with something hanging out of your nose. And if it almost always results in a quality upgrade, its always worth the time and effort. Ive heard writers dispute this. They say they expend all their energies on their work, and they dont have any left for their other, less important writing. There is no less important writing. This is like a little kid who whines about having to make the bed before school Proofing is part of the deal. Because its part of professionalism. And if you want to turn pro, you better step up to that bar. (Having said that, I feel compelled to insert this self-serving caveat: Ive proofread this manuscript at least six times. Ive had three other sets of eyes on it. And Id be willing to bet serious money that somewhere in here there remains a typo or two. If so, my apologies, Im embarrassed. Email me if you want, feel free to gloat.)
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36. Obey the ground rules of genre.

There are mysteries, and there are thrillers. And then there are mystery/thrillers. All three are different animals in a zoo full of species. A mystery is the unraveling of a crime that has already happened, usually an effort to identify the guilty party. A whodunit. Or, it can be an effort to uncover the truth about something that exists now but is not known or visible. A what-really-happened story. A thriller is the anticipation and experience of a harrowing event about to occur or already unfolding around the hero. A mystery/thriller is when someone is at risk of harm or dire consequences in connection with the investigation of past events, or of the truth about current events. Something may happen to someone as the hero investigates what happened before. Knowing the difference isnt just important as you write your story, its critical when you try to sell it. Because how you pitch your story (or query it in written form; see Tip #89) calls for genreidentification up front, and if you dont label it right youll create the wrong context and expectation for the reader. Romance novels have specific guidelines about character, plot and sex. Break them and youll never see your work in a bookstore. Same with spy novels, fantasy, science fiction (be careful with time travel, its always paradoxical), historical fiction, political stories and alleged non-fiction novels. Each of these issues is a breakout session at a writing conference, and the rules of genre are far too extensive to delve into here. The real issue is, are you comfortable with your command of your chosen genre? If this makes you squirm, then stop writing and brush up on the basics of the niche youre aiming for. And if youre trying to invent your own niche well, good luck with that.
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37.
Ask for feedback. Filter it when it arrives.

Heres the thing about asking for feedback: youll get it. Every time. Its human psychology 101: if you ask someone for feedback and they cant think of anything to say, they think theyll look stupid. Theyll assume you feel the work isnt perfect and that you need their help in identifying whats missing or off the mark, and when they cant find it, when they have nothing to say, theyll have failed. So theyll land on anything and everything they can. Sometimes valid, sometimes completely out of left field. When you ask for feedback, you are coming from one of two places: -- you suspect something is weak, and youll usually have a solid sense of precisely what it is; youre testing your instincts by seeing if anyone else feels the same way; -- or, youre simply looking for affirmation. And theres the trap. If you are looking for affirmation, this means you think the book is ready, its nearly perfect, and you want the reader to be blown away. You need to hear it to be sure. But you disguise the request as an earnest desire for feedback, which means thats precisely what youll get, and for the reasons cited above. Ask a critique group for feedback and youll get criticized every time. Even if theres little to criticize. Human nature. The best protection here is to pick your critics carefully, and in context to which of the two objectives apply. If theyre a writer themselves, so much the better. If its about affirmation, give the manuscript to someone who reads books for pleasure and is unlikely to begin their editorial career with this project. Like your mother. Rule of thumb: the more specific you are with your need, the more careful you need to be about whom you ask for input.
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38. Double filter criticism of your ideas and outlines, versus your finished manuscripts.
Nobody will understand your story from an outline as well as you do. Nobody. You know that old saying, opinions are like assholes and elbows, everybody has em? Well, that was written by an author who showed his outline to someone, and then went out and did it again. The thing about criticism is that eventually youll know in the deepest part of your intellect (commonly known as your gut) if the feedback is on the mark or not. Subconsciously you may have already been aware of a potential flaw when you handed over the manuscript, and hearing it validates that instinct. When that happens, or even if it doesnt just as often the feedback comes as a complete surprise get a second opinion. Never make a change to your story based on one opinion. Unless its a typo. Or unless its something you already knew was broken. The best reason to get a second opinion, though, is also one of human nature yours, as the author. Because theres a high probability that youll try to fight off negative input that violates your preconceptions and hopes. Youll make it wrong, youll rationalize. And then, a few days later days you can buy simply by asking someone else to look at the work in the meantime you may find yourself begrudgingly realizing that the input you rejected or even resented has a kernel of truth in it. When that happens, then you can no longer doubt that youre a real writer. Real writers know that the truth, or at least the best creative option, doesnt always have to come from within. The universe speaks to us, sometimes through the mouths of others. Where outlines and concepts are concerned, this goes double. Because outlines and concepts are virtually impossible to critique by anyone who isnt a seasoned writer. And even then, its risky.
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Asking for feedback on an outline or an idea is like evaluating the lifes work of an infant or teenage. The page is still blank. Analyze what you hear, but know that the critic cant possibly understand the true nature of your story at this stage. Heck, chances are you dont, either.
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39. Walk away for a while.

A universal truth of writing: you wont get it perfect the first time. Which is why I advocate outlining the complete architecture of the story. But thats just me again. Writers are tinkerers. And some of us are blind to typos and other stupid mistakes that, when viewed with fresh eyes, leap off the page and punch us in the nose. This applies to manuscripts, emails, letters, chapters anything you write. If you re-read it immediately upon finishing, youll almost always catch something. And if you walk away for a while not convenient for emails, but it should be a golden rule for your fiction youll find even more ways to improve and fix and tinker upon your return. The longer you stay away, the greater the value of the changes youll make when you again set your eyes on what youve written. Sometimes youll not believe how lame you were the first time.
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40. Know when to say goodbye to your story.

Im not talking about finally getting up the courage to stuff your manuscript into an envelope and mail it off. Thats a goodbye of an entirely different nature than what Im going for here. Im talking about abandoning your story. Completely. As in: quitting, tossing it in the fireplace, admitting failure, moving on to greener story pastures. Because a killer idea does not always a good story make. One of the great risks, not mention common mistakes, is to begin with what seemed like a great story concept and then writing it to death without ever finding the spine and the spirit of the story you envisioned. Instead of forcing elements and compromising story architecture and character, and after much soul searching and multiple attempts, there comes a time when you should consider just calling it quits. Mastering the concepts of story architecture goes a long way almost all the way toward preventing this disaster more on that later. In my workshops I use an exercise involving a specific diagram to illustrate this. I dont reveal that the exercise is impossible to complete successfully in accordance with the instructions, and yet it looks so simple. A no-brainer. I ask people to raise their hand once I say go. Usually a hand goes up within fifteen seconds. Thats the writer who doesnt think his story through, who just blasts something onto the page and thinks about the rules later, when hes rewriting. Sometimes these people dont accept it when I show them how they failed to achieve the stated objective. They try to make the instructions wrong or unclear, or come up with some geometric theory of alien science to justify their effort. These are the writers who do it their way, then cant understand why an editor wont fork over a seven figure advance.
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But the real kicker is when I finally reveal that the problem is unsolvable. Some laugh, some get angry, and others the writers who wont just walk away from a story that isnt working keep their head down trying to solve the unsolvable as the workshop moves on without them. The central concept of your story, often described in what if? terms, is only one of the Six Core Competencies of Successful Storytelling (using caps here because thats the name of my story development model, as well as the title of the book Im writing about it). There are five others, and all of them are equally important. Omit or be weak in any one of the six and the story will tank. Concept is no exception. Its just the beginning of the process, and sometimes its not even that, it can come later. How do you know when to walk away? Thats easy. When you begin to fall out of love with a story you cant make work. (Email me if youd like to see the exercise, or if you think youll be the first person in history to get it right.)
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41.
Allow new story ideas to percolate before expanding on them.

Unless youre on The Bachelor, you wouldnt marry someone after just meeting them, no matter how exciting they seem at the time. You probably wouldnt marry them after only a few dates, either, even if youve verified that theyre more exciting than you thought. Because what you see on the surface isnt always a good indicator of what you find on the inside. The same is true of your story ideas. And if the idea came to you in a dream, which it often does with writers, the need for caution and gestation time is even more applicable. Dreams come from a place that rarely makes sense, other than metaphoric sense, in the real world. Dont try to put the dream on the page unless your genre is fantasy.
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42. Cant think of a story? Make up some titles instead.

Some people have a knack for titles. They come easy, even before coming up with a story that goes with it. Natural born copywriters, these. Looking for story ideas and cant get excited? Try this exercise: take out a piece of paper and come up with as many book/movie titles as you can. Alliterate, be ironic, be clever, be edgy. Look at existing titles and improvise. For example: Four Weddings and a Funeral might lead you to Six Tax Audits and a Divorce. And so on. This works well in group settings, especially after a few cocktails. Theres an outside chance that some of these titles will intrigue you and quickly lead you to add the next element of an emerging story. And a story is nothing if not a bunch of ideas strung together. If that happens, play what if? with it and see where it leads. In the end you may not keep the title that got you started, but the exercise will have done its job if it did, in fact, help send you down a creative path.
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43. Cant cook up a worthy story? Cruise a bookstore.

Its been said there are only seven stories out there. Everything you read and everything you write is just a derivation, adaptation, mutation or mutilation of one of them. They are man or woman versus: nature, man, the environment, machines and technology, the supernatural, the self, and God. Its kind of fun to try to bust this truism, and youll find that you cant. Not really. All stories pretty much boil down to these seven ideas. Unless theyre true stories. With them, all bets are off. Interesting to note that the word versus is part of each iconic type of story. Because versus implies confrontation and conflict, and thats the very essence of any story. But I digress. If you cant come up with a story idea, or if you cant develop your idea into a story spine with the depth and criteria required to make it work, there is a place you can go for wealth of ideas. Go where the stories are. Go to the bookstore. When you go into idea acquisition mode your brain reacts much like an internet search engine. You enter key words and the software spits back millions of mutations and connections. Somewhere in that database is what you were looking for. Same thing happens when you read dust jackets and the back of paperbacks. Go to the genre section of your choice and just read. Open your mind, because your mind already knows what it is youre seeking. Sparks will fly. Ideas will bounce off the walls of your cranium. Guaranteed. The only downside is that you may find so many ideas youll have to prioritize, or perhaps make a list of brand new story ideas for down the road.
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Bring a notepad and pen. And dont worry about borrowing someone elses creativity with only seven stories available, every book in the place is borrowed to some degree.
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44. Write a list of everything you resent in your life. Really.

Maybe set yourself a time limit for this one, it could take days. This has to do with creating character backstories and resultant preferences, patterns, decisions and actions that connect to them. And nothing drives decisions and behaviors quite like a juicy piece of resentment. Heres the deal with resentment. The next step is resistance. And then, revenge. Its a deadly three-step process that underpins how we interact with others. And, it makes for great dramatic fiction. The closer the person is to us, the more we likely resent them if we do at all because of things from the past. But this can also apply to larger groups think race, creed and color, not to mention political affiliation, and economic class. If you didnt resent that Bernie Madoff clown, even just a little, then check for a pulse. If you know what your character resents in her or his life, you can then make the leap to what they resist. For example, if you resent your spouse leaving all the housework to you, you may resist joining him for an evening of exciting television and popcorn, instead retiring to your office to work on your novel (which is about a woman who murders her husband because he took her for granted). From that resistance comes revenge your husband may accuse you of being cold and find himself seeking an affair. Or, that could be you. When resistance enters the picture, revenge becomes a twoway street. Try this on yourself. Be honest, and notice how your resentments just might be influencing your life or a specific relationship. Reflect this vicious cycle with your characters and youll have a dynamic that rings true for your readers. 59
45. Break some rules. Selectively. Carefully.

Such as, using the word schnazzy in your opening line. In fact, if you cant find just the word you need, and if the contextual tone of your narrative permits it, just make one up. The best place to break rules is when writing dialogue. Nobody speaks according to the rules, nor should your characters. Slang, cursing, incomplete sentences, random chaos, dangling participles its all fair game when coming out of the mouths of your characters. But there is a long list of writing rules that you should not break, because when you do you put your story at risk. No mystery here, you know what they are, and if you dont youre not in a position to be considering deliberate rule breaking in the first place. Thats the criteria for breaking a rule, and its a paradox: breaking rules deliberately can be a good thing, but breaking them without a clue is always a bad thing. Its true for athletes and hedge fund managers, and its just as true for writers.
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46. Dont listen to any absolutes about writing.

There are no absolutes in the writing game other than avoiding typos and misspellings at all costs. In the past Ive written negatively about the way Stephen King approaches storytelling (just get an idea and begin writing), because it sounds like hes saying this is The Way to go about it. It is if youre a prodigy or a veteran of six dozen novels, like he is. And in voicing a contrary opinion death threats and all Ive been accused of sounding the same way: absolute. The people who dont agree with my views on story architecture and outlining take an absolute stance themselves. We are both significantly short of absolutely right. Find what works for you, then see if agents and editors agree. If they do, chances are your readers will, also.
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47.
Be open to changing your approach.

While Im on that particular issue In my travels as a workshop facilitator who strongly, even evangelistically, advocates outlining stories before you write them, I regularly run into angry writers who, after a litany of disgusted commiseration among equally outraged peers, announce to me that they just dont outline. Never have, never will. Well, thats fine if your career is going like you want it to. My usual response good for you hows that working for you these days? doesnt win me a lot of friends, but it does clarify the issue. Never have, never will. Theres a lot of backstory behind such a position. And a lot of rejection slips. To clarify, Im not saying that people who refuse to outline are wrong. Whatever process leads you to the discovery of your story and the fulfillment of solid architecture is a good thing, and if a bunch of drafts is your approach and it works for you, you are one of the lucky ones. The problem here is that if you set off down that drafting road without first knowing what youre shooting for in terms of elements, sequence, placement and tension, then drafting is a much more difficult way to navigate the storytelling landscape than outlining. Now, back to my point. If youre tired of rejection, if your stories dont work as well as they should, if youre blaming it all on someone else, then I submit to you that its time to think differently. There a million ways to write a novel in the big city. Mine is just one of them. So is yours. And if yours isnt working, consider a different approach. Definition of insanity: doing the same old thing over and over again while expecting different results. Writing has enough ways to drive us insane without stubbornness being one of them.
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48. Understand that all successful stories share certain characteristics and criteria.
Writers tend to reject the notion that there is, or should be, a formula for the writing of a novel. But there absolutely is. You need a hero, someone to root for. You need to put that hero into the middle of a quest, journey, need or desire. You need to create opposition to that goal. You need to have the hero battling some inner demon along the way, as well as an antagonistic force from the outside world. You need to have the hero be the catalyst that brings about the ending of the story. You dont need a happy ending. You need a satisfying ending. If your reader came for the creeps, then by all means creep them out. You need a beginning, middle and an ending. If you dont, you have a short story no matter how long it is and not a novel. If this sounds too basic to be considered a tip, consider this: one or more of these missing or broken elements is often the rationale behind a rejection slip. And as you know, there are more rejection slips floating through the U.S. postal system than there are book contracts.
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49. Understand why your previous work didnt sell.

Getting rejected hurts. You probably remember that from high school. If you didnt think your story works and that the writing is spectacular, you wouldnt have submitted it in the first place. Which is why, when we do get rejected, we tend to write it off as the agent or editor being completely and utterly clueless. But theres a reason behind every rejection. And its rare when they tell you. So you need to dig in and understand what it is, because the answer might make your next book better, and if not that, it might very well make you feel better. Books and screenplays get rejected for all sorts of reasons that have nothing at all to do with the quality of the work: there was a similar book or story recently acquired theyve reached their quota of first time writers the editor hates stories that have the word Jesus in them the editors last acquisition tanked and shes afraid for her job the publishing house is being acquired theres a new senior editor in town its good but not commercial its too commercial its too Grisham its not enough Grisham and so on. Of course, its possible the agent or editor read something they didnt like. Which means, the story or the writing is less than stellar or even broken. If thats the case, you dont have to be Harry Bosch to figure it out. Your friends, if theyre really friends, should tell you (your nonwriter friends will always tell you it was wonderful dont listen to them). Dont stop asking until someone assures you one way or the other. But heres another thing you need to understand, and its a bitter pill. Perfectly fine work gets rejected all the time for one elusive reason that has nothing at to do with any of the above: the manuscript had nothing spectacular to offer. It was good, but it just wasnt good enough. Another project in the pile was better.
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That hurts more than a broken story because its almost impossible to fix. Agents and editors are looking for home runs. Almost exclusively. Yep, you need to be better than good, more compelling than solid, more professional than the pros. To get published in todays market, your story needs to have one or two of the following: a conceptual hook so outrageous or original that the editor forgets to breath; a protagonist so compellingly fresh that they remember why they majored in literature; a thematic tapestry so rich and textured that the reader finds themselves questioning what they thought was true; a writing voice touched by God herself.
While you must be solid in all of the elements of storytelling, you only need one or two of these to be off-the-charts amazing to land a contract, and it is the rare book indeed that delivers them all. Even The DaVinci Code only had two out of these four, and look what happened to it. (And if youre about to point out that The DaVinci Code wasnt Dan Browns first book, youre right but heres whats interesting: the same criteria applies to writing a breakout book as it does to publishing a first novel and The DaVinci Code is nothing if not the poster child for breakout novels everywhere.) Again, a high bar. To break into the business you need to go way above the standard good, solid, entertaining set for previously published name-brand authors. To get published, you need to be better than they are. If your perfectly good book was rejected and you finally conclude that your story and your writing really are perfectly okay, this might very well be the reason. Okay just doesnt cut it.
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50. Bad dialogue can and will kill you.

It will also kill your readers. It will bore them to death. Sadly, if you wrote your dialogue badly in the first place, chances are you have no idea that it pretty much sucks. So how do you improve an element of your story that you dont even know is weak? Rejection slips are one clue. Feedback is another, but strangely, people seem hesitant to criticize dialogue. Not sure why, but thats been my experience. Probably because theres no solution to offer, other than dont make your characters sound like empty-headed idiots. Good dialogue is a cultural issue, a window into the lives and social norms of the specific plane and time of the story. What is funny here gets blank stares in England. What is hip for generation-X isnt even understood by most baby boomers. (I wrote the term my bad into a line of dialogue once, and couldnt convince my agent that this was street-wise and current.) There is a helpful concept for nailing what your characters say, and that is to avoid on-the-nose dialogue. If a line of dialogue is some combination of obvious and vanilla, chances are its on-the-nose and flags a writer who needs some dialogue coaching. Of course there are the obvious issues of dialogue reflecting character and situation-relevant tensions, and in this vein the unspoken or the inferred can be more powerful than the spoken word. One way to begin to improve your dialogue is to actually try to imbue it with slang, street, dialect, attitude and wit. Make it hip. All this, rather than simply letting it flow. That old myth about the characters taking over and starting to talk for themselves can kill you, because theyll do it through your world view, and that may not be remotely street, witty or hip. Once again, the best teaching tool for writing becomes reading immerse yourself in the masters of dialogue and go to school on them. Chances are youve never really noticed their dialogue
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before and thats because theyve written it so naturally and believably. Short and snappy exchanges are always good. People dont speak in soliloquies unless theyre in a Mamet play or a Tarantino flick. The real key to crackling dialogue is to listen to real people talk to each other. Im just sayin.
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51.
Dont model your work after bestsellers or their authors. Different rules apply.
Im not saying dont read them. By all means, do read them, and have a good time. Even better, use them to school yourself. But if youre assuming that these stories and especially hit movies -- are bestsellers in the first place because of some qualitative issue, that they are better written than books that arent bestsellers or movies that are hits then youre buying into a carefully constructed faade. Because it just aint so. Bestsellers are as often ordained as they are validly worthy of the term. Most bestseller lists are not based on sales to readers, but rather on wholesale orders from major distributors, chains and the collective whole of independent booksellers. Which means that a book that bears the name of a superstar writer, or one at which the publisher has thrown seven digits worth of promotional hype, will arrive on the shelves with a bestseller tag already in place. Thats why the occasional mediocre book hits the list. And why they dont stay there long if retail sales dont materialize. The best indicator of a true bestseller is a book that stays on the list for weeks. That means its being reordered, and that only happens when the stores sell out their stock. It means reviews and word-ofmouth (the tipping point) have kicked in to validate the original hype. But even then, you should never try to model a story or your writing style after a bestseller as a strategy to get it published. When The DaVinci Code broke out, publishers were besieged with religious conspiracy stories. All of them went down in flames. Any book that came out on the heels of The DaVinci Code craze was either already in the pipeline or there was a relationship already in place somewhere along the line. Go to school on that.
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52.
The rules of first person narrative have changed.

Once again, your last-generation writing teacher is wrong, by todays standards, about this myth: once youve started a story using first person, youre stuck with it. Nelson Demille and I respectfully disagree. Both of us wrote novels that alternated between the first person perspective of the hero and a third person narrative coming from an omniscient point of view. Demilles book (The Lions Game), like everything he writes, was a New York Times bestseller. Mine (Bait and Switch) was only the lead entry on Publishers Weeklys Best Books of 2004 Mass Market list after a starred review. (It also appeared on their Best Overlooked Books of 2004 list, the only paperback so named, and to this day Im not sure how to feel about that one.) My point: times have changed. Your high school creative writing teacher has long retired. That said, the rules of how to handle first person within your scenes remain very much in disciplined tact. The most important rule is that you stick with one voice first or third; second person is awkward and rarely seen, use at your own risk in any given chapter. The whole chapter needs to be one or the other. And when in first person, you cant tell us what someone else is thinking or, if theyre not present, what theyre seeing or doing. Unless its your first person narrator making personal assumptions to that effect. The best way to learn first person is to read it. The more you experience it as a reader, the more youll understand how to implement it as a writer.
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53.
Switch voices.
Now that you know that its perfectly okay, that the ghost of your old high school writing teacher really wont torment your nights at the keyboard, this is a great way to inject some life into a story that might otherwise feel flat to you. Im not talking about playing with first person (see Tip #52) as a creative lark. Im talking about completely changing voice to resurrect a story that isnt popping off the page. If your story is told in third person, play around with the notion of having your hero tell us the story in first person, or that of another character who might better narrate it. Notice how things come easier, expression and quick asides feel smoother, and humor isnt something you have to force. If first person isnt whats working for you in the first place, it may be because of shifting points of view are burdening you with limitations. Consider switching to third person omniscient narrative, or as suggested earlier, even mixing the two formats.
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54. Present tense is for screenplays. Only.

This is one of those writerly rules-of-thumb that gets trumped by the occasional novel written in present tense that actually does get published and finds an audience. But theyre few and far between. And in my opinion, really challenging to read. Whats even rarer is the instance of such a novel being written by a first-timer. Why? Because present tense is awkward and risky. It takes a deft ear and a clever hand to pull off. And even then, it reads like an experiment. Agents and editors are looking for reasons to reject you. Cynical, but true. The moment they realize theyre reading present tense theyll have that reason. Even if youre good at it. Even if it works. Just because someone, somewhere, actually wins the lottery doesnt make the purchase of a ticket a sound investment. Its always gambling, and for the most part a waste of your money. You should never gamble with your writing career, because the odds are already stacked. Dont make them worse by writing in present tense.
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55.
Understand the potential of an arena story.

Which begs the question, whats an arena story? Something about a hockey game? Answer: yeah, that could work. Arena is the embodiment of the old clich: write what you know. If what you know is fascinating and unusual, then simply by taking the reader into that culture or environment youre creating inherent fascination and voyeuristic juice. Thats called an arena, and your expertise receives top billing there. An arena story is drama that unfolds in a place, culture or profession that is inherently, even without a story unfolding upon it, interesting and complex. John Grishams novels are all arena stories, taking place within the legal profession and throwing back the curtain that proves every lawyer joke ever told. John Nances novels are always about aviation. Patricia Cornwells stories take us into the minty-scented world of forensic pathology. Dan Browns home run novels are nothing if not arena stories. Top Gun was an arena story. The Wrestler was an arena story. Star Trek is an arena franchise. When you begin to notice, youll see arena stories are everywhere, and always have been. And pay attention here always will be. Think about it. The interpersonal dramas that unfold in those stories really could have happened anywhere. But without the jets, Tom Cruise would have been just another taxi driver in Top Gun. (Note to self: Scorseses Taxi Driver was also an arena story.) More common professions and situations working in an office, marriage, a bar, etc. arent really arenas in this context, since weve all been there and nothing about those environments can really surprise us, nor is it remotely interesting outside of some of the whack-jobs that work there. They make good tapestries, just not inherently attractive in their own right. A story about a marriage needs to rely on the characters and plot exposition to work, whereas a story about F-16s and the pilots trained to fly them off carriers doesnt really need all that much story to work, which, if you saw Top Gun, history proves to be true. 72
If you know an arena well a profession, a place, a culture, etc. consider setting your story within the context of what you know, and then give the reader some steamy inside stuff that theyll find interesting, both separate from and also connected to the story in clever little ways that surprise and entertain. If the arena is strong enough, your story can skate by on simply being good instead of great. Shoot for great. But when you cant, arena makes a terrific backup strategy.
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56. Dont put limits or expectations on where your story idea will come from.
That miraculous little germ of an idea, the one that you will ultimately build into a multidimensional novel or screenplay, can come from any realm of the creative process. It can be conceptual, an exciting what if? question that intrigues you. It can be the need to explore an intriguing character (my first novel began exactly this way). It can be an issue or a theme that you feel you must address. It can be a sequence of events that, upon examination, seems like a worthy story to tell. The journey of your story from initial idea to executed story can come from any these four realms: concept, character, theme or the skeleton of a plot. Where you begin is far less important than where you end up, because all four will be there when that happens. Nobody knows how or where or when that seed of an idea seed, germ, flicker, whatever will descend upon you. It usually just shows up unannounced. In fact, those are the best ideas, because if you are frantically looking for an idea to turn into a novel you are more prone to forcing something unworthy into existence. Its the ideas that grab you by the throat that have the best shot at story survival. If the first idea, no matter which of the four labels it wears, is sufficiently energized, youll find yourself easily landing on one of the others. Maybe two. The rest youll have to grind out yourself. But know this. Nobody gets all four from the clouds. The real work of storytelling is taking that initial seed and adding the other remaining three elements to it in a magnificent way. The biggest mistake you can make is to think you can write a novel or screenplay by leveraging the power of your initial idea alone. Put 74
your creative energy into concocting the remaining three, whichever three they are, and then melding them into something that, when you look back at it upon completion, seems as if was meant to be. This is why beginning the drafting process with only one of the elements solidly developed is risky. Because each draft becomes an expedition to find and develop the others. And once you do, youll have to rewrite and rewrite and rewrite to flesh them all out. Or, you could just do all that development work ahead of time, before you write. Your call. Nobody will know -- in fact, nobody should know which of the four you started with. Doesnt matter. At the end of the writing day, all four must be actively in play.
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57.
Just because its been done before doesnt mean it shouldnt be done again.
By you. We all know that George Lucas wanted to write a western set in outer space. He did, and it was a little ditty called Star Wars. In fact, recasting a beloved story in another time, place and genre can be a great creative idea. The acid test on this issue involves how and when your story idea was born. If you read The DaVinci Code and said to yourself, hey, this is fun, think Ill whip up some mythology about Jesus and get back at my priest in the process, then maybe set that idea aside for a few years. But if you had your idea separately, or prior to, your awareness of another story thats out there making money, stick to your guns and develop your story your way. It makes sense to investigate the proximity of the existing story to yours, and make changes accordingly. Storytelling is like singing: Sinatra and Perry Como sounded like the same guy, and they both had big careers. Sometimes they even sang the same classics. Put your stamp on your work, write your ideas, and let the rest take care of itself. You have no control over the rest, anyhow.
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58. Understand the difference between an idea, a concept, a premise, and a story.
This is a tough one, because sometimes the people you are talking to agents, publishers, other writers and workshop leaders dont care about the differences. Sometimes they dont even understand the difference. But you should. To make it more complicated, these terms sometimes actually can refer to the same thing: sometimes an idea is a concept, sometimes a concept is a premise. It all depends on how its presented. You need to master the differences, because each term contributes something unique to the creative identity of the underlying story. An idea is the starting point of a story. It requires nothing other than a spark of compulsion that leads somewhere. Idea: a story about the Titanic. Idea: wedding receptions are chaos. Idea: a story about religious mythology. A concept adds possibility to the idea: what if you could raise the Titanic from the bottom of the sea? What if two guys crashed weddings for the food and the girls? What if Jesus didnt die on the cross after all and married Mary Magdalene, and while were at it lets add about twelve other compelling what ifs and break every record known to publishing? See the difference? A concept is an extension of an idea. A premise adds character to concept, and uses a different format: A story about an undersea explorer asked to help raise the Titanic from the ocean and finds himself the pawn in a battle for corporate power and riches. A story about two guys who crash a wedding but get more than they bargain for when one of them falls for the blushing bride.
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A story about a symbologist called in to decipher clues at the scene of a priests murder and finds himself running for his life as ancient factions from the Catholic Church scramble to cover up a twomillennia old conspiracy.
I dont need to ask if you see the differences now, they are huge. It may not help you sell your work, but it will clarify the steps required to evolve your creative baby from an idea to a concept to a premise, and from there to a featured spot on the New Release rack at Borders.
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59. You may not have to have a strong theme in mind when you begin creating your story.
But you will have one in place when youre done. Whether that happens by chance or by design is up to you. When we talk about the art of writing a great novel or screenplay, the centerpiece of that discussion is theme. Other factors, when rendered with high levels of originality and style such as characterization, writing voice and structural excellence are often referred to as art, but theyre really examples of craft. Art and craft are different, yet the same. When craft is delivered in such a way as to make a story powerful, it becomes art. Like a car that becomes a classic its all craft, it only becomes art when it touches the hearts of people. When they remember it. Great thematic stories always embody both art and craft. And great stories are always thematic to some extent. There is no such thing as craft when it comes to theme. Theme is all art. Because like a painting or a statue that moves you to tears (and if you dont think that happens, try standing before Michelangelos David and see what happens) like a photograph you just cant get out of your head like an actor who inhabits roles to such a degree that you forget who they are in real life theme is more than craft. Theme is emotional power. Theme is how a story touches you, moves you, makes you feel, makes you think, makes you remember. Theme can also be nothing more than the cultural setting of your story. A love story, a war story, a political story, a legal story it is virtually impossible to tell any of them without theme coming to bear on the characters, moving them in directions that have consequences. Theme is what makes those settings so juicy. The degree to which theme becomes art in these cases is the degree to which the story moves the reader. Simply exploring an issue makes it thematic.
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The tip here is to at once adopt two seemingly contradictory approaches to theme. First, if you know what your story is about thematically before you begin to write it, then themes become part of the tapestry as a matter of intention. Youll need to decide how to handle the theme, whether to sell it or soft-peddle it, if youre going to objectively illuminate both sides of an issue, or tell the story from one dominant thematic point of view. Then you need to let it go. If you can put those thematic intentions in place, the best approach now is to just tell the stories through your characters. Let them tell the story, let them live it, and let the reader experience it through their own thematic lens. To handle it any other way is to risk propagandizing your story, making your story a thinly veiled platform for an issue. Or, to have no thematic resonance at all.
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60. Understand the true definition of character.

Creating great characters in our fiction is the toughest thing we writers face. And one of the best ways to wrap your head around doing it is to understand what great characterization isnt. It isnt giving your characters interesting quirks and foibles. Habits, yes, they certainly can contribute to character because they may link to deeper and darker backstory and motivation. But the tendency to crush a can of beer on the bar after finishing, not so much. It isnt an accent or the way they dress or the kind of food they like or the car they drive. These are affectations and faade, not characterization. Only when you demonstrate that these choices are compensating for something deeper do they move into the realm of character. The best way to understand character is to assign it to the arena of decision and action, and the qualities and motivations that underpin them. Is the character heroic or cowardly? Generous or selfish? Needy or confident? Full of hot air or quietly wise? A giver or a taker? Will they say anything to get their way? Are they desperate for approval? Are they manipulative or sincere? Are they brutally honest or constructively sweet? What is their world view, their politics, their prejudices and biases? What makes them tick? What is their deep dark secret, and where did that come from? None of these have anything at to do with the tendency to dangle a toothpick from ones mouth. Use quirks carefully, and never in an effort to fully characterize. Its issues of integrity and values that define character. Bill Clinton, for example, had both, but which direction do they point on the character map?
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61.
Avoid, at all costs, the dreaded deus ex machina.

Deus ex machina is Latin for god in the machine. In fiction it refers to the too-convenient interjection of an unrelated factor an accident, an occurrence, a coincidence that influences the story without actually connecting to it. It simply, and literally, comes out of nowhere, and yet it changes the story materially. To wit: space shuttle debris falls from the sky and kills an assassin as he is driving to the scene of an attempt on the life of a big shot. Case closed, novel over. And, novel unpublished. Too convenient is not a sufficient term to describe such a literary travesty. Deus ex machina says it just fine. In his much puffed and sorely disappointing debut novel Derailed, author James Siegel gave writing instructors everywhere the classic example of how deus ex machina works. Or doesnt, to be clearer. In Siegels novel the bad guys were thwarted at the eleventh hour because they were staying next to a hotel that was conveniently bombed by completely unrelated and irrelevant terrorists (who had nothing at all to do with the story) before they could carry out their evil plan. Classic deus ex machina. Good thing the writer was a buddy of the publisher (he ran the ad agency that served the publishing company), else that half million dollar promotional budget might have not made this quite so embarrassing. The folks who made the movie adaptation didnt make the same mistake, and weve never heard from James Siegel since.
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62. Implement an essence of heroism in your protagonist.

Even if she or he is a complete boob. Your main character has to be more than just interesting. She, he or it needs to be positively heroic. Not necessary as who they are, but in terms of how they behave and influence your story. They dont necessarily have to be heroic from the get go, or over the course of the story. They can and often should grow into it (thats character arc) and apply it to the way the story concludes. An age-old belief is that your hero has to be likeable. Not so much any more. But they do have to be, in some way, heroic. If youve seen Bruce Willis in a lot of his movies, you know this isnt a guy youd want dating your daughter. Likeable? Depends on your taste. But is he heroic? Absolutely. (Unless hes the bad guy; Willis does a great bad guy.) Heroism is the new likeability. We need to root for todays heroes wanting to hang with them is optional.
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63. You wont break in to the business by imitating published authors.

One of the great frustrations among unpublished authors is the certainty, in their own mind, that theyre every bit as good as the people on the bestseller lists. Or even on the shelf next to it. In fact, many authors find themselves mirroring the style of their favorite authors in the hope that they, too, can be as successful. But heres the deal. Big time writers didnt get there because of writing style. They got there because of their storytelling prowess. If their writing voice contributes to the reading experience and thus the power of the story, this is a material factor in their success. But thats actually a minority; most of the big names write just fine, but there isnt a John Updike or a Joyce Carol Oates among them. With all due respect to Michael Crichton, hes a good example of this. And with many, many others who are household names. A lot of readers, especially those who prefer literary novels, like to diss guys like James Patterson for their elementary-level prose style. But make no mistake, the level of their writing is absolutely a calculated intention Patterson used to run the largest ad agency in the world, and hes a master at calibrating his message to the reading level of the target audience. Over 30 bestsellers later, one has to agree. Heres another cynical little truth. The famous names dont need to be as good to remain on the shelves as you need to be to break in and join them there. Publishers arent looking for another John Grisham, theyre looking for the next John Grisham. And while subtle, theres a significant difference. Notice that theyre not looking for the next John Updike, either. Theyre looking for an incredible storyteller. Writing voice is optional, and if its too stylized it may actually limit your commercial appeal. My favorite commercial author is a fellow named Colin Harrison. Long before I found him reviewers had dubbed him the poet laureate of American thriller writers. If God wrote thrillers hed sound just like Harrison. 84
Hes a world class storyteller by any measure, too but have you heard of him? My point exactly. Hes actually too good in the writing voice department. It limits his market niche. The trouble with hanging your hat on the fact that you write like someone famous, much less that you write as well, is that it spits in the face of what the publishing world says they want: a fresh new voice. Alice Sebold, for example, with her breakout novel The Lovely Bones. Youll be a lot better off shooting to be a fresh new storyteller.
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64. Short chapters rule.

Speaking of James Patterson, have you read him lately? While I admit the brevity of his chapters is more marvel than marvelous my opinion the best selling mystery author of our era does pave the way toward what has become an industry expectation: keep it short. Writers have been delivering short chunks of narrative since the arrival of digital printing, but not long ago it was more intrachapter segments separated by a skipped line or two. Now, often as not, each of those little buckets of exposition gets their own chapter number. Patterson, for example, has had as many as 128 chapters in a single book, some of them less than a page in length. The rule of segmentation, be it separate chapters or chunks of narrative separated by a skipped line, is much like a cut to a new location or time in a movie. Unless you bridge your transition using a phrase such as Meanwhile, back at the ranch this allows you to keep the reader in the moment without confusion, and without boredom. Shorter chapters give the illusion of pace. How often have you been reading in bed and wanted to hang on until the chapter concludes, only to thumb forward and realize youll never make another 12 pages. But two more, yes. Literary effectiveness aside, thats what editors are looking for these days. Enough said.
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65. Be careful about wrong notes.

A major pothole along the road to freshness and originality is the attempt to add something quirky or interesting, and it backfires. This is especially true with characterization give your hero a wrong note something that just doesnt fit, isnt logical or is just plain a bad creative call and youve potentially ruined something wonderful. Earlier (see Tip #60) I talked about giving your characters quirks (or not). A weird quirk can easily become a wrong note when it doesnt fit and distracts in a negative way. A bad call may not doom your manuscript to rejection. But then again, it just might. Editors are easily and quickly influenced, and if the wrong note precedes the point at which theyre hooked by the story, itll be the thing that makes them put the manuscript down. Which theyll do in a heartbeat. A wrong note is a dash of mustard in your hot chocolate. A cigarette butt left in the offering plate. A tattoo on a blushing brides forehead. A showroom car with a swastika on the fender. A speech at the National Convention that begins with the words, Hey, whats up dudes? One writers quirk is another readers eye roll. This happens all the time in unpublished manuscripts. Its partly why theyre unpublished. If this sounds like obvious or pedestrian news that nobody ever talks about, its because wrong notes are the first things edited out of a manuscript, provided its otherwise good enough to land a contract. You dont often see them in published work. But you do see them in produced movies. All the time, in fact. Its the proverbial case of the family who remains inside the haunted house instead of running out the door screaming when they can. Everybody notices when it happens. Especially reviewers.
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Because wrong notes are born from the unique creative sensibilities of the author and lets face it, many writers aiming for a mainstream audience are anything but mainstream -- theyre hard for writers to spot in their own work without outside help (if they sensed it was a wrong note in the first place it wouldnt be there). So when you ask others to read your work and you should ask them to be on the lookout for wrong notes, something that doesnt click or just strikes them as a little weird, contrary and distracting. Something thats intended to be cute, funny, hip or ironic but isnt. And when they point one out, hit the delete key.
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66. Participate in writing communities. But be careful of addiction.

Writing is, and always has been, a solitary pursuit. For many this is contrary to their nature, so we gravitate toward conferences and writing groups to listen, learn, share and, for far too many, avoid writing altogether. Ive seen writers who do nothing other than attend workshops. Their novel or screenplay is always an intention rather than a project, something theyll get to one day. Writing groups provide immediate social gratification. Writing doesnt. The less joy you receive from it on that level, the more youll get out of writing groups. But alas, the more youll become to using the writing group as an excuse not to write. This tip doesnt apply to critique groups (see Tip #82), though they do come with certain risks (see Tips #37 and #38). Definition of a writer: one who writes. Thats it.
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67.
Use dialogue to make boring exposition palatable.

This is one of those against-conventional-rules tips that you should absolutely consider. Sometimes you need to feed the reader a bit of background or explanation to allow them to fully understand the dramatic moment, or even a loaded piece of dialogue. For example, you may reference a bit backstory with a character saying something like, After what happened last year Im a little anxious about seeing her. The traditional way to inform the reader would be to engage in a quick narrative aside that brings the context of that comment up to date. Boring, and perhaps risky if it stops the momentum of the scene cold. Or, you could have the characters themselves do it. Little asides happen all the time in real-life conversations, and they can happen in your story, too. For example, after a comment full of implication and context, the other guy could interrupt by saying, Wait, refresh my memory on that. And then, totally within the context of their exchange, the ensuing dialogue does just that, complete with attitude and nuance. Much more interesting to read, and it accomplishes the goal without hitting the pause button on story pacing.
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68. Master the concept of stakes in your fiction.

This is huge. An entire textbook. When someone asks how do I add tension and meaning to my story? the answer is stakes. Stakes are what is gained or lost when the main characters either achieve their goal, or when they dont. Everything else can be solidly crafted within a story, but if the stakes are not compelling the story will tank. The more the reader can relate to whats at stake, the more they feel it the safety of a child, the chance at a career, the survival of a disease, the chance at a fortune, the opportunity to save the world, love itself the more powerful the story. Antagonists without stakes are cartoonish. Bad guys with something huge at stake are terrifying. In the movie The Island, the bad guy (brilliantly played by a terrific character actor named Sean Bean) is diabolically cloning humans for the purposes of trafficking in spare body parts. He shows little compassion and a hair-trigger willingness to dispose of uncooperative clones with his bare hands. But when he explains himself, he talks about ridding the world of disease, of curing childhood epilepsy, of gifting the world with a chance at a long and healthy life. By any means, at any cost. We hate him, but we understand him. He, too, has high stakes that motivate his decisions and actions. And because of that hes anything but a moustache-twirling cartoon of a villain. In The DaVinci Code and Angels and Demons, Dan Brown gave us a clinic in using high stakes to suck the reader into the story. Hes often criticized for vanilla prose or thin characterizations, and in the movie versions, trite Hollywood contrivances and conveniences. Opinions all, and not the least diminishing of his mastery of stakes within his storytelling. In these stories the stakes include the credibility and viability of nothing short of the Catholic Church in particular and the entire landscape of Christianity in general. Lives were at stake. History was at stake. Money was at stake. Humanity itself was at stake.
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The stakes existed on multiple levels those that applied to Langdon himself, and those that would affect the entirety of civilization and the veracity of history and religion. As thematic as they are, Brown pounds those themes at us not through propaganda and preaching, but with the emotional and empathetic weight of the stakes as experienced vicariously through his characters. Nelson Demille blurbed The DaVinci Code as pure genius. This, in part, is why. Stakes are at the top of the list of the things your story must deliver in order to succeed. Without significant stakes, stories do not work well enough to sell.
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69. Nothing you write is ever wasted. Ever.

Theres one writing tip that haunts me, and has for the last three decades (yeah, Im that old). It was a milestone and a perspective that changed everything, and a reminder that sometimes the little things we offer to others can make a profound difference in their lives. And isnt that the real reason we write in the first place? If it isnt, then pause and ponder yours. Before my overnight success with my first novel (Darkness Bound) in 2000, I had written six novels that failed to find a publisher. Because they sucked. All were based on what I thought were killer concepts, and as I figuratively wandered the New York publishing jungle, getting the bejezzus beat out of me at every turn, I discovered that an idea does not a novel make. I submitted those manuscripts all over town, and thanks to one very generous and personal rejection letter the first time out, I continued to submit the next five to that same kindly editor. He turned down all six submissions, but in each case he wrote no less than a six page single-spaced letter offering both encouragement and constructive criticism, this in an age of manual typewriters and White Out (remember White Out? If youre under 30, probably not; it has nothing to do with blizzard conditions). In a time when everyone else was sending out photocopied rejection letters with all the warmth of a tax audit. His name was Dan Wickenden, a senior editor at what was then known as Harcourt Brace Jovanovich (todays Jove paperback imprint is a descendant of that organization). I remember several things he told me over the course of those six letters, including that he believed I would never win the Nobel Prize for literature, and that he also believed I had the chops to make it as a thriller writer, if and only if I continued to evolve my writing. Considering how badly I truly did suck at that time, this was an amazing gift of hope. But thats not the tip that changed my life, encouraging as it was.
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This one did: In the life of a real writer, nothing is ever lost, no word you write is a waste of your time or energy. The implications of this are stunning, not only for writing, but for living. Which to me are synonymous, by the way. It means everything you write moves you closer to your goal, including everything that results in yet another rejection slip. It means that writing, like life itself, is a cumulative experience, a whole in excess of its parts, a vehicle with momentum that must be maintained and fortified with energy, and that without noticing you will become the writer you hoped youd become. That challenge to evolve my skills has defined my writing journey. It is why I teach workshops, because I learn more with every class before which I stand. It is why this book exists. In his letters Mr. Wickenden made veiled references to his declining health. After my sixth unpublished novel I took a 20-year break to write screenplays and make a living writing corporate media, and I thought of him often during that time. But not as often as his kindness deserved. When I finally did publish in 2000, I tried to contact him and thank him for his gift of hope. But Harcourt Brace Jovanovich was gone, and I feared, so was Dan Wickenden. I still wonder how many naive, wide-eyed writers he saved from the junk heap of abandon, and if he knew how much his kindness and wisdom really mattered. I hope he did. I hope someone with more sense than me got to tell him that. Our heroes come unexpectedly, and often long after the moment they touch our lives. Dan Wickenden, wherever you are now, you remain in my heart, and I thank you from the bottom of it. If I can pay it forward with only a fraction of the impact you have made, I will die a successful writer.
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70. Infuse your story with sub-text.

None of us in real life live in a vacuum. There is context all around us, pressures and standards and expectations that push and pull, that influence how we act and even define who we are. Those pressures are the sub-text of our existence. So it is with our stories. Our characters need to live in a real world, or a world that is real in accordance with whatever boundaries we create for them and it. The richer that contextual existence, the richer and clearer the sub-text of your story. Sub-text is often the theme we are exploring in our stories: racial prejudice, police corruption, family dynamics, love, sex, careers, politics, evolution, pollution, religion, the paranormal. Sub-text is the social or environmental stage upon which our stories unfold. Republicans often act differently than Democrats. Generation X lives differently than their baby boomer parents. People of color often have a different mindset about some things than white people. Ex-addicts view the world differently than children. Believers have a different outlook than non-believers. The difference is nothing other than sub-text. The richer you make it, the more visceral and real your characters, and the more relevant and compelling your story becomes.
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71.
Make your sub-plot about character arc.

Character arc is fundamental to story success. It is not only how the character learns and grows as a result of their experiences within the story, but how they apply that learning toward their role as the primary catalyst in bringing about the conclusion of the story. If they have something to learn at the beginning, if they have shortcomings or faults to overcome, chances are those are the consequences of having some inner demon that influences their decisions and actions. Where that inner demon comes from is backstory. How the character overcomes it is character arc. Creating a storyline that is subordinate but related to the main plotline that centers on the characters inner demon is great fodder for a sub-plot. If the story is a thriller, for example, the sub-plot can concern the characters ability to commit to something or someone in the face of the pressures of impending life or death. A love angle. If the story is already a love story, the sub-plot might concern one of the families, perhaps who bring class prejudice to bear upon the relationships. Sub-plot follows the same basic story architecture and flow as the primary plot. But its much simpler and less obvious, and when it manifests in the form of limiting the characters choices and influencing behaviors, it successfully links to the main storyline. Sometimes the sub-plot can be completely separate. And, it should not be confused with sub-text, with which sub-plot can easily coexist. In fact, sub-text can become sub-plot with great ease and effect. In the hit (and hip) television show Burn Notice, for example, Michael Weston is constantly working to uncover who burned him basically making him persona-non-grata within his profession as
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a spy while addressing the plot-of-the-day, save-the-innocent scenario that gets wrapped up after 58 minutes. The main plot is how Michael solves the days problem. The subplot is his love relationship with Fee, his trigger-happy sidekick, and/or whether the local police will stop him first. The sub-text is his on-going status as having been burned as a spy for some unnamed government agency. Sub-plot is a dramatic question that is answered over the course of the story: will they fall in love, will she get the job, will they be disinherited, will they live or die, etc. Sub-text is the existence of some social or economic or other situational pressure that defines and influences the characters, such as social class, political pressures, career factors, etc. The sub-plot of The Cider House Rules is Toby Maguires ability to connect to Charlize Theron romantically. Will they or wont they? Stay tuned as the main plotline unfolds. The sub-text of the story is the ever-present issue of right to life and abortion, and the pressures it puts on the characters. In Top Gun, the sub-plot was Tom Cruises budding relationship with flight instructor Kelly McGillis. Again, stay tuned as the main plotline unfolds. That main plot admittedly weak was some conglomeration of whether Cruise would wash out (this being the link between the main plot and the sub-text) before he could save the day before the impending attack by bad guys (which is the main plotline sort of). The sub-text, however, wasnt really a question at all, but an influencing pressure: Cruise lived under the dark shadow of a father who had failed, and it had pushed him toward irresponsibility and bravado. The tip here is to understand the difference, and master both.
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72.
Hit it while its hot. Or not.

Both Hollywood and the book publishing worlds operate on a timeline thats two years out from today. Which means, if a book comes out about, say, whether Leonard DaVinci was sending us cryptic messages in his paintings, and if that book catches fire and basically outsells everything from Harry Potter to the Bible, then you might be tempted to jump on that bandwagon with your own religious conspiracy story. Except, two years from now when your story hits the streets the DaVinci phenomenon will have cooled off. Hollywood and New York will have moved on to the next money maker. And your manuscript will find its way back to your mailbox. The trick and the tip is to try to anticipate whats next. Whats around the social, political and environmental corner that will be in the headlines and have the attention of the people who buy books and screenplays. Placing your bet on timely themes is always risky, and for just these reasons. There are plenty of eternal themes and stories out there, ones that will be just has relevant and commercial two years from now as they were thousands of years ago when they were first written about. Unless you have a crystal ball, go there instead.
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73.
Be computer literate.
First reason: research. Master the use of search engines and you can accomplish in four minutes what it would take four hours in a library. Second reason: editing and revision efficiency. Never again need you touch a little jar of White Out. What used to take a half hour can now be accomplished in two or three seconds. But not if youre still pounding on that old Underwood. And if youre doing so to be cool and retro-hip (Joe Eszterhas, pay attention), nice try. You look like an idiot. Especially when you brag about it. Thats like bragging that you still use an outhouse in the backyard. Leave the curmudgeon-stubborn stuff to episodic television and get with the program. I mean, really. When was the last time you saw a document that wasnt from your grandparents that had White Out on it? Turning on a PC is simple. Learning how it works is simple. Microsoft Word is easy, and its the best invention since ketchup and the wheel. Theres nothing cool about unproductive nostalgia. Get with the program.
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74.
Research is overrated.
Its always good to try to get things right. If you cant, just make it up. The paradox of this serves writers well. Because if its difficult to research and prove, then itll be obscure to most readers, and therefore less likely to be challenged and discredited. In my first novel I wrote something specific about a minor medical procedure undergone by my main character. No big deal, either to me or the reader. It was, however, to the doctor who showed up at a book signing, not for an autograph, but to demonstrate to me and whoever else was listening that I got it wrong. I was sorry. I really was. But it didnt matter. Not in the least. The tip here is to pick your spots for extensive sweat. If the story depends on veracity, go for it. When veracity is accessible, go for it. Otherwise, make something up that sounds believable and adds to the reading experience. One of the risks of too much research is the tendency to jam too much of what youve learned into your story. The days of James Michener providing the geological details of the ancient volcanic land-mass formation that would one day provide the terra firma upon which his story would unfold totally irrelevant to the story, by the way are long gone. Dont go there. If it isnt on a web page near you, and if it doesnt matter to anyone but your history or science teacher, dont sweat the details.
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75.
Start reading writing books and blogs.

See Tip #14. Because if you spend more time reading about writing than doing it, this isnt a good idea at all. However, if youre new to writing, or if youre blocked, then books and blogs might be your ticket out of that dumpster. The same goes for writing workshops. Use them for good, not for the evil of avoiding the actual work of writing. You can never learn too much about writing. Books and blogs can serve you if, and only if, they are about technique and art and not about commiseration.
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76.
Give the reader something to think about.

Weve already discussed the necessity to infuse your work with theme. Virtually anything can be thematic, and should be. This tip begins where that one left off. Because now were talking not so much about how to make your story thematic, but to lead with theme as the primary differentiator of your story, using it to really explore and nail an issue to an extent that reviews will see that this is what the story is primarily about. Titanic was about a ship, and it had several themes. But themes didnt make the story, the ship and the special effects did. Indecent Proposal was all about the theme of fidelity in a marriage. Big difference. It could have been made with any other actors and any other specific plot device (youll recall Robert Redford offered to pay Demi Moore and Woody Harrelson a badly needed one million dollars if he could sleep with Moore let the debate begin). The theme made that story more than any other element. Themes are all over the map in terms of the writers intentions. You cant write a story about love or race relations or politics or, some would say, the human experience in any form without bringing theme into the dynamics. But you can move theme into the forefront of your reason to write it. Some writers begin with theme in mind in all likelihood John Irving had a bug in his ear about right to life issues before he started writing The Cider House Rules, as opposed to an inexplicable yearning to write a story about an orphanage (cant be sure, John and I havent spoken lately). Other writers set their story in a thematic cultural landscape and, simply by crafting characters with brains and feelings, they are by default exploring theme. Ramming theme at a reader also known as propaganda is always risky. Exploring themes with the reader is the way to go. Even when theme gets top billing.
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77.
The great killer of stories: coincidence.

Back at Tip #61 we met the dreaded deus ex machina, something to be avoided at all costs. But that little monster has a cousin, and it can kill your story, too, albeit a bit more insidiously. Coincidence happens all the time in real life. But it should never happen in your novel or screenplay, especially if it provides convenient and unexpected assistance to a character or to the revelation of story points. When coincidence turns the story on its ear, thats deus ex machina. When it just greases things along, thats coincidence. In the recent remake of The Taking of Pelham 123 (spoiler alert here), hero Denzel Washington has escaped the clutches of villain John Travolta during a harrowing chase through the subway tunnels of Manhattan. Good stuff, fun to watch. Travolta decides to head up to the street, clutching a few million dollars of ransom money and a significant bomb in his hands, the latter destined for ignition somewhere in the crowded city. Denzel has no idea where he is within a maze of dark tunnels, or that hes gone topside, and theyve been separated long enough for the distance between them to be discouraging. So what happens? Denzel decides to climb up a ladder and emerge onto the street, guessing (correctly thats a coincidence) that this is what Travolta is up to. This happens somewhere in midtown at rush hour. And just as he does guess what? Denzel looks up to see a mere fifteen feet away Travolta climbing into a taxi. Wow, what a coincidence. Thats what everybody in the theater is thinking at that moment. The critics panned the movie. Not because it sucked it didnt but because there were a handful of eye-rollers just like that used to engineer the supposedly exciting end chase sequence. Dont go there. Or it wont be a coincidence that your story gets rejected. 103
78.
Pepper your story with pearls.

Readers love pearls. Reviewers love them more. And book jacket blurb writers go absolutely apoplectic about them. A pearl is part wisdom, part wit, and a large part timing and placement. It is a short statement of truth and wisdom, presented and worded in ways that smack the reader right between the lenses of their reading glasses at the precise moment they need to hear it. A pearl can be a statement of the obvious, made artful by the moment it appears. A pearl can be an insight into something that broadens and illuminates. Something that makes the complex simple and memorable. A pearl, in this context, is a narrative gift to the reader, rather than an exchange between characters. An example: love means never having to say youre sorry. From Love Story by Erich Segal. Love hurts, from the song by the J. Geils Band. Pearls are poetry. Pearls are perfect literary moments. And they make great chapter sign-offs or even the final line of a story. Perfectly placed pearls can separate an ordinary manuscript from a great and publishable one. Be careful, though, that you dont confuse pearls with clever moments between characters. Pearls are always aimed at the reader or viewer and offer a little piece of life-wisdom, while wonderful iconic lines Ill be back Go ahead make my day Frankly Scarlett, I dont give a damn Heres looking at you, kid -- are more perfect moments than quotable gifts of wisdom. The art of the pearl is indefinable, so Ill stop here. You know them when you read them the trick now is to create them. And that, for better or worse, is a little pearl in its own right. 104
79.
There are five moments in your story that you absolutely need to understand before you can finish your book.
And in my opinion, you should know all about them before you start writing it. Once again, thats just me. Frankly, my opinion on this tends to piss some writers off. They are for the most part organic writers who prefer to use the drafting process as a means of discovery, as a story development exercise (see Tip #98). Or, who harbor a serious distaste for outlining, claiming it stifles creativity and spontaneity. Whatever. If it works its from God, more power to ya. But this much is true: organic writers, too, need to know all about these same five scenes before they can finish a final draft that works. A draft that might actually sell. They use the drafting process to discover and explore them, while others, like me, do it pre-draft, including the use of an outline to get it down on paper. The process is entirely your call. Potato, pototo, whatever. The end product is the same either way. The five scenes are: opening, closing, first plot point, midpoint scene, second plot point. If this is greek to you, then you dont really understand story architecture an affliction as common to outliners as it is to organic writers and the best tip in the world for you (think of it as Tip #102) is to stop writing and go back to square one for some form of writing bootcamp. And if that strikes you harsh, see Tip #47. There are certainly other scenes youll have to discover before you can finish your story successfully, but once you nail the five critical scenes mentioned above, these are more easily developed during the drafting phase, at least if thats your modus operandi. As for me, the more you know about your story beforehand specifically your key scenes the better youll write them the first time you try.
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Which means outlining is, for those so inclined, a very powerful development strategy. These five scenes define your story. The most important of them is the first and second plot points, because these introduce and launch the conflicting element that opposes the characters primary quest and need within the context of the story, and then trigger the concluding sequence based on everything you know about the inherent stakes related to that conflict. Spaced equally across a linear roadmap of the story, these scenes become the pillars upon which you build. They are the foundations that hold the weight of your structure. And most importantly, they separate and connect the scenes that unfold between them a total of four discrete sections of the story each of which has a succinct and different context and mission. Imagine having four shorter segments, each with its own mission, context and criteria, and each developed in context to the ones next to it. Sort of clarifies the nature of the journey, doesnt it. Welcome to story architecture, the most powerful thing in the writers bag of storytelling tools. No matter what process you employ.
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80. Never insult the intelligence of the reader.

Basic law of writing fiction: if youre not hip, and you try to be hip in your work, youll insult your reader. Because you assume, very incorrectly, that if you dont get it, they wont either. That if you require an explanation, so will they. And thats a fatal flaw. One of the little unexpected perks of being published, and of having done a handful of book reviews, is that publishers send you ARCs (advanced reading copies) of soon-to-be released novels. One of the stories that landed on my desk struck me as workmanlike in its craft, but one thing stood out as quite irritating: the narrative frequently spoke down to the lowly reader. Me. For example, in revealing that a character was a piece of work, the writer went on to explain: or, someone who was unusual in a distracting way. Here we have a hip colloquialism followed by an in-your-face insult. Like wrong notes (see Tip #65) it actually is a wrong note this is something you should ask trusted readers to sniff out for you. The tip here is to simply not do it. If you get it, if you require no explanation unless youre an engineer explaining a point of quantum physics in a love story then assume your reader gets it, too.
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81.
Master the art of the chapter cut and thrust.

See Tip #96, one of the biggies. Every efficiently written scene is designed, or should be, to deliver a single piece of expository information to the reader. Scenes that try to do too much are weakened, while those that reside within the parameters of narrative efficiency contribute toward great pacing. Which is to say, when you make your point in a scene, get out of it quickly. But do so with an understanding of the scene that follows, and use a glimpse of foreshadowing or anticipation as your exit line. Imagine a scene where the hero arrives at the home of his fianc, knowing that his lover is inside, wrapped in the arms of another man. If your set-up scene is there to show him arriving, undecided as to whether or not hell go inside (he has a key), unsure of how hell react when he sees his worst nightmare unfolding if the mission of that scene is to show us his hesitance and set up him for what follows (and within the context of character arc, this would be important if the character had always, until now, backed away from danger) then thats all the scene should be. The next scene is for the showdown itself. Heres where the cut and thrust comes in. Its all about how to phrase the transition between the two scenes. It might look like this: He lightly touched the door handle, his fingers trembling. He could feel the pressure of the gun, his fathers gun, tight under his belt. Calling to him, like his father did. He took a deep breath. Wanting desperately to just drive away. He got out of the car, leaving the door open behind him. Boom stop right there. On to the next chapter. If the reader was planning on putting the book down for the night, youve just made it harder to do that. Thats the cut and thrust.
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82. Join a critique group.

Unless you belong to critique group, chances are the only novels and screenplays you read have already been published or produced. Which means, multiple drafts went into what youre reading and several professional editors with New York or Los Angeles zip codes sweated bullets to make it as good as it can possibly be. Not so much with most works in progress. Even if the author thinks its ready. In fact, especially if the author thinks its ready. Sometimes reading unpublished stuff is sort of like listening to someone describe their health problems. But if youre a doctor, listening to a litany of aches and pains becomes not only diagnostic, but also fascinating, something to which you can add value. Once you understand the infrastructure of storytelling the architecture of structure, the poetry of theme, the engineered arc of character, the symmetry of elegantly rendered prose then reading an unpublished manuscript becomes a learning experience. You instantly recognize why the story isnt working as well as it should. Do this enough and you return to your own work with an elevated learning curve and a reinforced standard of storytelling excellence. So how do you benefit from participating in a critique group for this purpose? First, you need to acknowledge that your motivation is to witness the miracle of story architecture in the making, as much as hearing others tell you whats wrong with your story. Next, and concurrently, you need to immerse yourself in learning the craft of storytelling to an extent that you completely understand the criteria for excellence across all of the requisite core competencies. Thats a tall order, by the way, usually a lifetime quest. But when you get your mind around the basics youll be able to see it at work within the stories of others. Armed with that, join critique groups and solicit readings of works in progress from other writers. Youll be amazed at what you see that youd never notice before, and equally amazed at your own depth of recognition. When you go back to your own work, youll be
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that much further along on the learning curve and able to avoid the pitfalls you just witnessed. Of course, that same grounding in the fundamentals will also enhance your reading of published work, at least from an analytical point of view. There youll see the basics of storytelling excellence in play or not, its always subjective, even in New York and, along with your reading pleasure, youll have been schooled in how its done.
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83. Remembering is not heroic. Learning from experience is.

Even if you understand that your hero wears that badge for a reason they do heroic things its easy to create a plot point simply by having your hero, or even another character, change the course of the story because they suddenly remember something. Lives may change in the real world for that reason, but if you do it in your fiction, the only thing that will change is your dream to publish it. Remembering is a cheat. Action is heroism. If what they remember causes them to act, then you have a shot at making the memory a viable plot point. The best course is to forget memory as a plot device and replace it with discovery. Quick note to sci-fi and fantasy writers: using your heros psychic abilities to uncover hidden truths and bring about story-changing rationale is also a cheat. Sherlock Holmes was brilliant not because he could read someones mind, and thats just as true in the paranormal genre. Genre never provides a way around the basics of good storytelling. (Will you look at that another pearl)
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84. Deliver a richly layered and intense vicarious experience to the reader.
I know this is as obvious as it is difficult to pull off. But like parents pounding core values into their kids, we writers can never hear this enough. Its like saying a singer must carry a tune. But then, staying with that metaphor, how many successful singers can you name who really cant? Who compel us with the passion and unique inflection of their voice rather than melodic perfection? Bob Dylan, Willie Nelson, Axel Rose, Janice Joplin these singers move us. But, not a Josh Groban in the bunch. Thats the idea here. You can make it on style or you can make it on raw talent, but if you make it at all itll be because youve given the reader/viewer an experience imbued with emotion and vicarious thrills. The lack of a compelling reader experience is, along with technical lameness, perhaps the primary reason manuscripts get rejected. That and a feeling that the editor/producer has seen it all before. Sometimes a great story or movie is described as a great ride. Thats what you, as a novelist and/or screenwriter, are shooting for. Strap your reader into the seat of your story and take them somewhere. Make it intense, compelling and memorable. Take them to places theyll never go. Introduce them to people theyll never meet. Make them feel. Thrill them. Frighten them. Anger them. Entertain them. Make them laugh and cry. Make them fall in love. Break their hearts. Have them live the dream. Give them hope. Hope is the most compelling of all human emotions. It is the root of love, the very seed of fear. And it is the great greaser of storytelling engines. Ive read many manuscripts over the years that were technically sound, in which every story element was fully fleshed-out and was found in the right place. But the story itself, the reading experience, 112
was flat and unmoving. Like reading the biography of a perfectly nice but overwhelmingly boring person. How do you pull off a story that delivers a ride? By giving us characters that we care about, that we can root for. By putting them in situations to which readers can relate and will empathize with. By taking us to places and cultures and worlds wed never experience on our own, and find fascinating when we get there. Even if its fantasy, even if its in the distant past. Put us through a roller coaster of emotions. And then, take us home with an ending that we cant forget. That we feel. The level of reader satisfaction as they close the cover is the key to selling your work. A high bar, for sure. But if you want to know what separates the masters from the mundane, the published from the unpublished, this is it. Its what separates the karaoke bar from Carnegie Hall. Carrying a tune isnt the issue. Emotional power is. Its easy to focus on structure and character to an extent that you forget about the emotional juice of your story. Keep that goal front and center at all times as you craft your story.
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85. Take care of the writer.

Non-writers will rarely understand you when you say that writing is hard work. Both emotionally and physically. Pouring a new sidewalk now thats hard work. But writing? Too many hours at the keyboard makes your back sore and your wrists numb. It wearies the eyes, gives you headaches and makes your neck feel like a worn shock absorber. When your story isnt working its like living with someone who you know no longer loves you. Or who drives you crazy even if they do. It is the very definition of anxiety. You cant sleep. You cant focus on the real world. You need to care for yourself as you write. On the physical side, there are volumes of information to be found about workstation ergonomics on the internet. Get the right chair, position yourself in relation to the keyboard and the screen in such a manner that your body doesnt distract you from the work. Get up often. Stretch. Take walks. Dont forget to eat. Keep water next to your workstation. Put an aquarium in your line of site. Flowers help. Cut the harsh lighting. On the emotional side, the key to anxiety management resides in continuing to understand the basics of storytelling. Without that knowledge you are wandering the mean streets of a cruel city without a map or a friend. Survival is possible, but its pretty scary until you reach where youre going, and chances are youll get lost along the way. With that understanding, you are armed and confident. You have direction and hope. And the writers soul, more than most, is nourished by hope.
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86. Leave truth to the journalists.

What they say is accurate truth really is stranger than fiction, often to an extent that when presented as fiction it becomes a ridiculous stretch. Novels are fiction. Unless theyre not. Same with movies. Theres a category for documentaries, know the difference. In real life there are things like coincidence and deus ex machina and all sorts of left field, inexplicable twists that keep us on our toes. But as an author you should leave them to journalists and real life documentarians and write your story using dramatic elements that make sense to readers, that they can accept. Often well see a movie that was inspired by real events, or based on a true story. Notice they dont say this is what really happened. The key words are inspired and based on, which means they have just licensed themselves to tell the story any darn way they choose in the name of dramatic effectiveness. You should do the same with your stories. Tell the truth about the way people think and act and why, and about how systems and things work in the real world. But beyond that, your job isnt to stick to the dramatic facts which are often boring anyhow but rather to infuse tension and meaning and emotion into the telling.
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87.
The ending of your story needs to be all about the readers emotions.
At the end of the day the game is all about manipulating the readers emotions. Satisfying endings sell books. If the ending is moving, shocking, profound or memorable enough, editors will consider a book that they can otherwise edit into an acceptable form. The reverse, however, is not true. A great story with a lousy ending will get rejected. Editors dont want to coach you through a rewrite (though they may suggest just that in their rejection, asking you to send it back when youve fixed the ending; but they wont buy it until you do). Endings dont have to be happy. They do need to be emotionally moving. They need to satisfy. And if that means shock, upset and otherwise defy belief, that can work, too. Thats why they call it art. There are no rules for endings other than the above. Some writers who develop their stories organically are at great risk of settling for an ending that simply ties up all the loose ends. This approach may compromise the delivery of a bombshell ending, something so satisfying that the editor will do whatever it takes to make the rest of the story work. The best endings are planned, or discovered early in the story development process. Even if you stumble upon it organically, youll need to retrofit it to optimize a fresh set-up for your new killer ending. A better approach, in my view, is to engineer your story so that it drives toward that ending from the get-go, allowing you to seed the journey like a diabolical puppet master along the way. Whatever your ending, the key question you must ask and answer is this: what is my reader feeling as they experience this conclusion? The deeper those feelings, the greater your story. Dont settle for logical or neat. Shoot for earth-shattering. 116
88. Less really is more.

Elsewhere in this book youll read that visual descriptions should be offered economically and sparsely. The same is true for experiential moments and actions in your stories. The classic example for this is sex scenes. In screenplays the stage direction for a sex scene can be as brief as they make love. If something kinkier is called for, it might read they make love using neckties and clothes pins. Whatever. The interpretation is left to the director and the actors. And the result is inevitably more vivid and powerful than anything the writer could have described. And thats precisely how the novelist should approach the description of experiential moments the reader is likely to understand. Maybe not with the economy of words demanded of screenwriters, but close. Let the reader compose the scene and direct the movie in their heads. For example, if youre writing a scene in which one character shoots another, after setting up the moment and the tension just say and then she pulled the trigger. Dont go into forensic detail about the tissue damage rendered as the bullet enters and exits, leaving a hole the size of a salad plate, or the anguished scream of its recipient. Let the reader fill in those ghastly blanks. Let them hear the pop of the gun and the thud of the body hitting the pavement. This is an artistic call. Just remember, less is more.
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89. Know how to pitch your story.

Youve finished your masterpiece and its time to sell it. Good for you. Now what? Before you consider all the typical answers agent queries, unsolicited submissions (not a good call), publisher queries, workshop face-to-faces, contests, whatever you need to know how to package an optimally-effective pitch. The goal of any pitch isnt to accurately tell the story thats important, but not the highest goal but to motivate the recipient to want to read the complete story. Or at least hear more about it. Toward that end you need three levels of pitch: -- an elevator pitch of about thirty seconds; -- a two-minute synopsis; -- a longer treatment of the story that goes into sequential detail. The elevator pitch needs to toss out an intriguing conceptual proposition, best framed as a what if? question: my story is about what could happen if the President of the United States was having an affair with the wife of the leader of the opposition party. You may or may not have time to add a comment or two, but thats basically it. The listener is either motivated to hear more, or theyll get out of the elevator quickly and thankfully. If they do want more, you now move on to the next stage. The two-minute pitch marries the what if with a statement of premise, thus creating the stage upon which your story will unfold. To wit: My story is about a President who has successfully hidden a dark secret from his wife and everyone else, that hes been having an affair with the wife of his most vocal enemy. The story opens when that wife, his mistress, confesses the affair to her husband for reasons that have to do with her own 118
ambition to become the next first lady, and because of her deep-seeded resentment of her lovers insistence they keep their relationship in the closet. The day after she confesses her intentions to both men she is found murdered, and the story goes on to expose a number of motivated suspects and a surprise ending that seemingly comes out of nowhere and exposes the lengths some will go to for power. Concept, character, theme and structure theyre all there. Notice how this pitch doesnt give much away. Yet it deepens the intrinsic appeal of the premise while introducing potentially fascinating characters. The listener should be moved to want to hear more. By the way, you should be able and willing to deliver all three of these versions either verbally or in written form. If you cant spit it out, then consider that you cant write it well, either. The last format, the longer pitch, is really a treatment that tells the story in abbreviated sequence, including the ending. Its interesting to note here that the same rules used to write the story apply to the telling of it in treatment form: you need -- a set-up; -- a compelling plot point; -- a response to that; -- a mid-story contextual turning point; -- a pro-active plan of attack by the hero; -- a huge final twist; -- and a killer ending that demonstrates character arc and delivers a high level of reader satisfaction. Fair warning, though: youll never be able to imbue this longer pitch with the same level of storytelling power and magic that the actual manuscript will deliver. Its all compression and summary, with leaps of faith and bridged sequencing essential. Which means, the reader may not completely get it. Even if theyre an agent, publisher or producer. Sometimes those nametags dont come with a high level of story comprehension, and this is doublytrue of treatments and story summaries. 119
That is why its critical to understand that all three pitches are sales tools, with a primary goal of getting the reader/listener to want more. One more tip here: conclude the pitch with a summary of the themes of the story (see the two-minute pitch above). Do that, and if your manuscript delivers the goods, youre golden.
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90. Understand how and why your story is a gift to the world.
Heres a novel thought (no pun intended). Ask yourself why youre writing your story. I ask this at the beginning of every workshop not to mention at the beginning of my own storytelling process and the answers are illuminating. Sometimes the answer is that the writer has always wanted to write a novel, or that theyve just finished one story and are ready to begin the next. Their need to write trumps their need to tell a specific story in essence, any story will do. Some say they just love to write, to create, to live in an imaginary world with characters of their own creation. Same deal. A better answer is that their story haunts them and intrigues them and wont let them sleep. That it demands to be told. All well and good. But heres the next question in either case: whats in it for the reader? All of those answers point inward, toward some return to be gained by the writer. Sure they want to deliver entertainment, maybe even enlightenment. But whats the primary goal? Who are you writing your story for? Your reader, or yourself? The answer, once you own it, can be the catalyst for a subtle but empowering shift in your work. Because the best books, the most enduring stories, the beloved classics, are all gifts to the world. Is your story a gift to the world? To anyone but yourself? And if so, can you articulate how and why? When you can, youre on to something magical. Then it really is a gift to yourself, because the greatest gift you can bestow on yourself is that of being a giver to others. Even if the objective is just to scare the living shit out of them.
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The Top 11 most powerful writing tips ever.
91.
Enter your scenes at the last possible moment.

We have Mr. William Goldman (he of the two screenwriting Oscars and one of the best writing books ever, Adventures in the Screen Trade) to thank for this one. Not sure if he said it first but it was the first place it seems to have appeared in print. You cant do this unless you understand Tip #96. Once you do, it makes this easy and effective. The further into your story you are, the less time you should take to set up your scenes with non-related business. When we first meet a character we may need to get to know them, watch them operate for a moment before getting down to business. Notice in the next movie you see that the first few scenes will show the protagonist just going about their business as if nothing strange is afoot. Scene descriptions what ancient writing teachers once referred to as place are the enemy. Use them judiciously. And again, less is more. This tip focuses on the purpose of the scene itself, on jumping in at a place that optimizes the dramatic effect. The thing that distracts most from that purpose is the subject of the next tip.
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92. Dont go overboard describing how things look or how they function.
Remember earlier when I said to forget most (I think I said everything; everything is optional) of what your high school writing teacher told you? This is an example. Opening a scene with paragraph after paragraph of place virtually stops the pacing of the story. Cold, in its tracks. Most seasoned readers skip it anyway, skimming until they sense something is actually happening. Never describe how someone is dressed, the appearance of a room (beyond a simple adjective, like messy or trashed), or any other place or visual in great detail unless its: a) critical to plot and/or character exposition, or b) its something unusual enough that the reader wont understand what it looks like unless you tell them. Like an alien. Or the inside of Angelina Jolies bedroom. Give the reader credit for knowing what a business suit looks like, even an Armani, how a nice restaurant appears, or how a sunset on Maui makes you feel (sleepy, after a day of climbing Mt. Haleakala). Weve all been there.
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93. An oldie but still a goodie: show, dont tell. Unless

unless its connective tissue. Then tell, dont show. Plot exposition is defined as the next bit of plot-critical information that moves the story forward along a spine. The collective sequence of these pieces of information becomes the plot itself. The best way to get those informational points down on paper is to work through your characters to spool them out as little one-act plays. Pretend youre writing a stage play one without an omniscient narrator or characters who turn to speak directly to the audience. This forces your hand into show-dont-tell, which will always keep you safe. There are exceptions, and they are best left to experienced hands. The primary exception is what I refer to as connective tissue, or the need to deliver information that informs the expository information of the plot. For example, you may show a characters nature by having them refuse to get on an airplane because there are people of middle eastern culture in line ahead of them. Says a lot, right? Well, showing this says a lot to your readers, certainly, because in the context of plot exposition it keeps the character in the airport, where something else might happen to them. But if you feel the need to explain why they feel so strongly about this that theyd miss their flight and make a scene, dont show it. Show the what, not the why. Dont give us a flashback scene in which the character gets the news that their friend was among the dead in the World Trade Center towers, thus fueling their sense of distrust of people wearing headgear. No, for this you simply tell that snippet briefly within the context of third person omniscient narrative, or that of a first person narrator. Its quick, and its there simply to inform the very thing that youre showing. This is another instance of art trumping strict rules, so take this as a guideline. 124
94. Understand the difference between outlining and story architecture.

I know thats trying to mix a verb with a noun in way that feels like chewing on cut glass. Sorry, but its necessary here. This little can of worms has nearly gotten me lynched on more than one occasion. If theres one thing Ive learned in over two decades as a writing teacher, its that some writers just wont consider outlining, ever. Even if thats precisely the thing that would get them published. So allow me to clarify: story architecture needs to be solidly in place within any successful story, no matter how the development process began or unfolded. Non-negotiable. If you know story architecture to an extent that you really can just start writing your story, and itll unfold onto the page with all the requisite elements in just right place which will eventually happen somewhere in the drafting process if you see it through more power to you. You and Stephen King and a very few others are in select company. The reason the two terms outlining versus story architecture are improperly regarded as synonymous is that outlining is a very powerful way to employ the very essential concepts of story architecture, especially for newer writers. (In fact, the most vocal of outline-haters are published authors who absolutely do, after writing multiple drafts instead of outlining, end up adhering to story architecture.) Again, you dont need to use an outline to write a story that is in complete alignment with the principles of solid story architecture. Not if you have the model memorized. Not if you own it. And thats the problem. Most writers dont. At this point it is appropriate to ask: do you? If you dont, this becomes the most important and vital tip in this book. Dont write another word until you learn story architecture.
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Story architecture can be quite intuitive. The more you know about it the more intuitive it gets. Once you wrap your head around the concept you may or may not need to use an outline to weave your story over the infrastructure it provides. You just will as you write it. The term story architecture refers to the sequence of an unfolding story according to an accepted and expected sequence, complete with certain milestones, timing and criteria. In effect, a blueprint. Mess with it and your story will suffer. As will your readers. Music has architecture. Sculpting and painting have architecture, even the most obscure pieces. All art is based on some form of structure, even if the lack of structure is what defines the art. Just as airplanes are designed according to basic aeronautical principles they all have wings, they all require power, and they all must adhere to the principles of Bernoullis law of aerodynamics even if they dont look quite the same as other airplanes. Cessnas and Boeings, fighters and tankers, crop dusters and aerobatic aircraft they all look different, yet they are all built from the same basic blueprint. So it is with story telling. Violate the basic laws and the story will never get off the ground. Not sure whos law it is, but it is enforced every time an agent, editor or producer turns down a project. Learning story architecture is like learning to play the piano. Some people many in fact learn to play by ear. By instinct. They never learn to read music, they just listen and then they play. It sucks at first, but if they do it long enough they may turn themselves into a competent pianist. If they compose, they do so with a reliance upon that same instinct. Again, so it is with storytelling. Some writers pick it up through reading and not much else, and it becomes second nature. Stephen King writes this way. But when he recommends that everyone should just begin writing when a story idea descends upon them which he does in his book On Writing hes pitching a dangerous
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and wrong approach to the vast majority of new writers. Because hardly anyone especially newer writers knows what he knows. Whether you outline your story or just begin writing it without a plan, either way you are engaging in a process of exploring and developing an architecture a sequence of narrative, dramatic events that makes the story as solid and effective as it can be. If you do it through writing drafts, each draft takes you closer to that goal. If you do it through outlining, you are applying the principles of story architecture before you write the story itself. If you dont accept that there is a templated expectation for how stories unfold, then a) youre kidding yourself, b) neither Hollywood nor New York will buy your manuscript, and c) you are destined for frustration until you do. The tip here isnt to outline. The tip is to write your stories from a solid understanding of story architecture. Its more than a tip. Its the ante-in.
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95. At any point in the story you need to be able to answer this question: what is the reader rooting for and caring about?
The central question in drama concerns whats at stake. And with stakes comes reader and viewer positions are they rooting for or against a particular outcome? Stakes are the consequences that may or may occur, depending on what decisions and actions your characters take. On the level of their courage, resourcefulness and strength of will. When stakes are something readers can relate to, when we can feel them in our bones, then well find ourselves rooting for certain outcomes. Thats the writers ultimate goal. To get the reader emotionally invested to the point where they are rooting for and/or against certain outcomes in the story. The tip here is to make sure those stakes are clear and always visible, not only to you, but to the characters that will be affected by them. Too often they are not. Too often the story comes of as episodic and experiential, rather than dramatic. The other thing that must be abundantly clear at all times is the state and nature of the storys dramatic tension. This again is a question of stakes when they are clear, the dramatic tension surrounding those stakes is fully in play. Ask yourself this question before and after every scene you write: what are the stakes, are they clear, how am I advancing them, and what is the reader rooting for or against in this scene? If you know the answer, your reader will, too.
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96. Every scene should have a succinct mission.

I love this tip. Its the most empowering thing Ive ever learned about writing novels and screenplays. Read it again. The key word is succinct. If a scene tries to do too much, its weak because it rambles. The lines between the issues arent defined. The dramatic tension isnt clear, and therefore isnt optimized. If you can understand not only the nature of the scene youre about to write, but the narrative thing it needs to accomplish the single piece of plot exposition to be delivered then you can build a scene around it that seizes the dramatic potential at hand. In the movie True Romance, written by Quentin Tarantino, theres a terrific scene in which Christopher Walken is trying to pry the location of Dennis Hoppers son out of him. The mission of the scene is simple: Hopper wont talk, but in the end Walken gets what he wants. It could have been one page, one minute of screen time. But it takes eleven minutes. All of it perfect and spectacular. And all of it driving toward that one moment of plot exposition required to thrust the story onward. Everything about the scene the dialogue, the unspoken silence, the stories told, the way it ends (not good for Hopper), and the way Walken actually comes into possession of the information, is a thrill ride for the viewer. Which illustrates that mission-driven scene writing does not mean doing it as quickly as you can. But rather, as dramatically as you can. Im not saying you should blow out your scenes to an eleven minute experience every time. I am saying that once you truly know what the scene needs to accomplish, and you discipline your narrative approach to drive toward that one thing only, you are free to explore the inherent creative potential of it all. To make it a ride, an experience, a colorful and character-driven piece of exposition. This is how great scenes are written. The more succinct the scenes mission, the better it reads.
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97.
Never rescue your hero.

Your hero should always be the rescuer. (Note: before you send me an email on this one the term hero here is without gender, just as in the movie business the term actor refers to one who acts; the only time you hear the word actress these days is during Oscar season.) Put another way, the hero of your story needs to be architect of the storys resolution. Even if you kill your hero off, what transpires to bring about the ending in a satisfactory way needs to stem from the decisions and actions the more heroic the better of your protagonist. You may be saying to yourself, well duh. And the reason is this is precisely what you get, in one form or another, in almost every published book or produced movie. What you dont see, however, are the piles of rejected manuscripts in which the hero is rescued by someone else. Its one of the most common story-killers out there. And if youre saying to yourself, what if my story has a dark and shocking ending, one in which the hero dies? Well, fair enough, go for it. But you still need to deliver something emotionally satisfying to the reader, and you still need to deliver character arc to your protagonist, meaning he or she needs to do something heroic that is a catalyst for whatever that reader satisfaction might be. (A great example of this is the ending of the movie Gran Torino, in which Clint Eastwoods heroic sacrifice is what brings justice and satisfaction to all.) Be clear, this pertains to the conclusion of the story first and foremost. Exceptions are permitted, but only earlier in the story, resulting in a lesson learned by the protagonist.
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98. Dont use your draft as an exploratory exercise.

Use it as an executional one. Welcome to a controversial issue, one in which neither side of advocates can prove conclusively. So take this in the spirit in which its offered: if youve ever started a novel you couldnt finish if youve ever finished a novel that sucked if youve finished a novel that you didnt think sucked but didnt land you an agent or a publisher or worse, if youve invested years of your life writing draft after draft after insufficient draft before you settle for something worthy of being called final then you need to pay attention to this tip. It can change your writing life forever. There are two extremes when it comes to the writing of a novel: at one end of the spectrum you get an idea and simply sit down and start writing. No idea where it will lead, where youre going, or what happens along the way. Youre trusting the process to lead you to the answers youll need to eventually uncover. Writers who use this method accept and assume it will take multiple drafts to get there. And perhaps years off your life. at the other end of the spectrum you start with your idea and, armed with the knowledge of what elements need to be developed and where they need to appear in the story, you actually plan your story out in great detail, scene by scene, testing and evolving it as you go, until you have a completed blueprint for the story that has no holes. And then you being writing your first draft.
Which, by the way, if you really know your stuff, can quite possibly be the one you submit. After all, if youve really explored and made the right creative choices in your planning, and if youve solved every conceivable story problem along the way problems that would come up anyway even if you used the aforementioned organic drafting method then your draft wont require a rewrite. Itll always require a polish, but thats not a new draft at all. Its not even a revision.
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Many writers advocate the former approach drafting and they vehemently defend it as the only gratifying and effective process there is. I cant outline is their battle cry. Too bad, because the blueprinting process defined above is much more involved than simple outlining, and chances are theyve never tried it. It requires patience and the mindset of an engineer, not something a lot of writers possess on either count. Other writers including me advocate and practice the latter. Ive sold three first drafts doing it, so I know it works. (Unless you define a draft as any new keystrokes applied to the manuscript; of course I tweak and polish my manuscripts daily who doesnt; by a draft Im referring to substantive changes to the infrastructure of the plot and the characters. Things that require a rewrite.) The fact is, successful writers using the first method are actually applying their innate knowledge of storytelling as they go, so its irresponsible to advocate this for a newer writer who doesnt have that same learning curve. Stephen King can do it and he does the rest of us could use a little planning first. Every novel, no matter how its written, begins with the search for ideas, elements, angles, and answers. Only when those answers are discovered, explored and implemented will the novel be successful. Or put more clearly, will it stand a chance at publication. How you do it is entirely up to you. But like I said if you write organically (approach #1 above) and youve found yourself unable to finish, or worse, unable to sell your work, then consider a more left-brained, engineering approach next time. I promise you, the creative process will be every bit as wonderful, rewarding, effective and excruciating. I also promise you it will take you to the finish line in orders of magnitude less time. But fair warning: dont try this in fact, stop writing right now if you dont have complete command over the criteria for conceptualization building character theme 132
story architecture scene construction writing voice
If you dont, neither approach will get you to the promised land.
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99. As you strive to master the basics, strive also to grow your U.S.P. Unique Selling Proposition as a writer.
When Simon Cowell he of the obnoxious feedback from American Idol evaluates an unknown singer, he says he is looking for the it factor. So are publishers. In any avocation, especially the arts and athletics, there are two dimensions of performance. One is technical proficiency, the other is art. Both rely on a complete mastery of the basic mechanics of the craft in our case, conceptualization (killer ideas leading to killer stories), character, theme, story structure, scene construction (narrative skill) and writing voice. Thats it. There is nothing else. Virtually anything you can identify about writing can be put into one of these six buckets. I call them The Six Core Competencies of Successful Storytelling. They cover the technical side of things. Art is what separates the mundane from the immortal. It is something that defies description and explanation. It is Simon Cowells it factor. Stephen King has it. Dennis Lehane has it. Michael Connelly has it. In fact, a lot of the names you recognize from the bookstores and many that you dont have it in spades. In sports, they say you cant coach speed. With writing, you cant coach the it factor. You cant bleed art from a tech manual. Art cannot be taught. It must be discovered. It must be cultivated and evolved. Only you can make that happen, somehow summoning it from somewhere within. And it will only happen after you master the technical side The Six Core Competencies of Successful Storytelling, or however you prefer to break them down and define them. What is it? Its what makes a writer a delight to read. Its what sets that writer apart from a sea of generic storytellers (many of whom, 134
we must acknowledge, have successful careers I wont name names, but it doesnt take a rocket scientist to know who they are). Is it referencing their linguistic prowess or their storytelling skill? Well, those folks I just mentioned, the ones who have successful careers without any apparent earth-shattering stylistic skills, are writers who have mastered the craft of storytelling. Others who are blessed with the opposite gifts great style, not so great stories might be headed for an academic literary house, but youll be hard pressed to find them in Barnes & Noble. And then, like King and Lehane and Demille and Connelly, some get it all. How do you find the it factor in you? Especially when it cant be taught? I have only two recommendations in that regard: first, you have to find your natural writing voice. How you do that remains a mystery, but you wont have a shot at it unless you play with different styles and allow yourself to evolve. If youre lucky, you may click into a mode that just soars and imbues your work with, well it. and, you can study writers you admire, those with a definite it factor, and try to get your head around what makes their work so fascinating and gratifying. Its a personal thing, an aesthetic, but if you can begin to notice it, then perhaps you can begin to, if not emulate, then shoot for your own version of it in terms of quality and uniqueness.
The it factor is rare, so dont set yourself up for disappointment if the publishing community doesnt validate your suspicion that its you. Superstars in writing, as in other arts, are few and far between. But you can seek greatness as a storyteller who brings solid style and aesthetics to your work, and when you do, youll find yourself in the hunt for an agent, a publisher and an audience.
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100. Make sure you understand the definition of story.

Versus, for example, an idea, a concept, a vignette, or a theme. A review of your day isnt a story. A review of your day in which your boss tried to strangle you and you killed him in self defense and the prosecuting attorney is your ex-wife now thats a story. Can you define story? Can you do it in one word? Well, nobody can but you can come close if you select the right word. Its not character. Its not theme. And its not plot (but close). Its conflict. There is no story without conflict. You would be shocked at the legion of writers who, even after decades of practice and tens of thousands of dollars thrown at books and workshops which lend almost no attention to this basic premise who dont really understand story in its most elemental form. Writers who think anything with a character in it is a story. Its not. Not without conflict. None of them, by the way, are published. Nor will they be until they truly grasp and master the essence of what a story really is. There are many ways to render a proper definition of story, but heres a succinct and accurate one: A story is about a character who needs something, with stakes attached to achieving what they need, and who must face and overcome obstacles in the pursuit of and fulfillment of that need. That character is usually your protagonist, often referred to as the storys hero. And yet, many writers create what they believe to be stories with a protagonist positioned as a hero, but without a need or quest, just a sequential journey with no opposition or stakes. You never read them (unless youre in a critique group) because they never get published.
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We take the basic tenets of story for granted because everything we read, good and otherwise, at least meets this definition. Other criteria kick in beyond the definition without becoming the definition itself. Most of them are qualitative, the things that make a story effective and publishable. Like a hook, a theme, character arc and backstory, structure and pacing (story architecture), setting, subplot, a satisfying and credible ending. But none of these elements define story. Rather, they empower a story. Within the above definition, then, what does the hero need? Thats your call as the author: truth, survival, love, money, revenge, enlightenment, validation, vindication, redemption, forgiveness, a home, a family, a career, to find something that has been lost, to help someone else the list is ancient and endless. Notice, though, that each of these needs have stakes attached to them. For a story to work, it must have stakes. You can have character and plot without stakes stakes are what makes the reader care but if you do, what you wont have is a book contract or a movie deal. So do you truly understand, at its most basic, elemental and essential level, the definition of story? If not, then this is the most important tip youll ever hear about writing novels and screenplays. Except, perhaps, the next one.
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And finally, the most powerful and universal writing tip I have ever heard (assuming #100 is covered): 101. It really is about the journey.
There is only one thing you have complete control over in the business of writing for publication or sale: the work itself. Sanity and peace depends on your acceptance of that truth. You have little to no control over whether or not your work will actually sell. You do control how much effort you put into the selling process, but if your priority and validation centers on the selling and not the writing, you may find yourself frustrated. Writers have been known to kill themselves for this reason alone. It is perhaps why so many writers are drunks. You have little or no control over what agents and editors and producers will do with your project once they accept it. Whether it becomes a hard cover or a paperback, an art film or a tent pole picture, how its marketed (or not), how the cover looks or what the dust cover or back copy or preview says. None of this will be your business. Of course, you can say no at any time. But then, thats a bit counter-productive to the goal of selling, isnt it. And if you do, the agent or publisher is likely to throw you under the bus. And there youll be, alone again with your manuscript. Once your book is on the shelves or your screenplay is in the hands of a producer, your job is done. Little you say or do will make the slightest bit of difference as to what happens to it from there. Let me say it again: the only thing you have complete control over is the work itself. So focus your energies and your hopes there. Work hard for, and dream about, creating the best work thats in you. The best story that can possibly be told. Hopefully, if youve been paying attention, a story that must be told. 138
Published writers and produced screenwriters all pretty much agree on one thing: what seemed like a dream come true book signings, openings, interviews, talking to readers and fans quickly becomes something less than advertised. For some, a nightmare. Very soon in the process the writer realizes that the best part of the journey was the writing itself. Our work is our offspring. And like children, we sent them out into the world with great hope and little control over their destiny. Oh, we do try, and as we find ourselves unheard and useless we often regret that we didnt try harder back when we were raising them. Back when what we said and did really mattered. So it is with our writing. Nurture it. Shape it. Discipline it. Give it your dreams and your highest hopes. Give it wings and a compass heading. Love it. Finish it. Then let it go. If youve done your work well while it resided in your hands which is all that you can do trust that what happens when it leaves you will be something wonderful. And if it doesnt, at least you had those moments when it was. And thats more than folks who dont write will ever know.
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About the Author Larry Brooks

Larry Brooks most recent novel, Bait And Switch, was named by Publishers Weekly to their Best Books of 2004 list, who gave it a starred review and named it their July 2004 Editors Choice. Larry is the author of four critically-praised psychological thrillers about the dark and dangerous games men and women play with each other, including the USA Today bestseller, Darkness Bound (Onyx 2000). Larrys novels reflect his life experience in the art and science of relationship survival and in the business jungle, having only recently gotten a handle on the former with the help of his wife, Laura. Hes still working on the latter. Larry is an honorary Mentor for the Oregon Writers Colony, with whom he has been developing and leading workshops for over two decades. He also frequently leads writing workshops and speaks at conferences around the country. Participants describe his workshops as wildly original, compellingly effective and startlingly passionate. Larry likes to describe them as mildly disturbing. He also reviews books for The Oregonian newspaper, in addition to serving clients around the world with writing for marketing and training applications. Before teaching and writing novels full time he was a former Executive Creative Director and partner at CMD Agency in Portland, one of the largest integrated marketing firms in the western United States. He and his wife, Laura, have homes in Portland, Oregon and Scottsdale, Arizona. His son, Nelson, attends the University of Southern California. Visit the authors website at www.STORYFIX.com, an instructional and motivational resource for writers in any creative genre. Contact Larry at storyfixer@gmail.com. 140

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101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips For Novelists and Screenwriters

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101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips For Novelists and Screenwriters

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101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters

2009 by Larry Brooks

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

Reverse engineer an existing story book or movie to see how it works.

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

Post pictures of your placeholder character surrogates on your desk or computer.

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

Imagine your novel as a movie. Or imagine your screenplay as a novel.

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

Outlining your novel? Consider writing it as a screenplay first.

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

Write a book review of your novel or a movie review of your screenplay.

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

Stop reading writing books and blogs.

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

Re-conceive your story in another genre.

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

Watch Dr. Phil.

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

Take your favorite old stories and make them contemporary.

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

20. Try out a different voice.

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

Keep a list of new ideas. Write them down as titles.

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

22. Pay attention to song lyrics.

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

24. Work on your writing every single day.

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

Stop avoiding writing by doing writing-like activities instead.

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

26. Start a blog.

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

28. Raise your writing bar. Then belly up.

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

29. Put your energies into finding an agent instead of a publisher.

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com

30. Dont sweat your prose. Do sweat your story.

101 Slightly Unpredictable Tips for Novelists and Screenwriters www.storyfix.com