What's Elizabeth Reading? ...Brandon Sanderson (again!)

I've stayed away from writing second reviews about authors up until now mostly by not reading the same author again. But after reading ... I can't even remember what I was reading. Either way, I needed a mental break. And, standing in the library wondering what to do, I realized that when I want a break, I read fantasy. Reading fantasy is, for me, the literary equivalent of coming home. It's what I grew up reading.

I decided to try another Brandon Sanderson because I didn't want to take a chance on an author again (just yet, anyway). Other authors I considered were Robin Hobb and Raymond E. Feist. I'm not sure why I settled on Sanderson, but I ended up checking out The Alloy of Law.

This is the part in this post where I tell you Sanderson didn't live up to expectations.

This book was not as good as Mistborn or Elantris (which was also not as good as Mistborn). The Alloy of Law is (I assume) the first book in a companion series or trilogy to Mistborn. It is set in the same world, a few centuries later. It was fun to see some of the same characters show up, whether it was in their being talked about or with them actually showing up. These Mistborn characters did not factor majorly into the plot, however; The Alloy of Law is its own story.

It is also a western. Okay, not totally, but imagine a western that is also a fantasy and that's what this book is. Sanderson's characters were lawkeepers out in the world's equivalent of the Wild West, and now they have moved into the city and are trying to catch the Wild West-style villains (lawkeeper turned bad; rich guy who is funding things). There is fighting on trains, there are plenty of gun fights, and we even have a sidekick who wants his hat back (Indiana Jones, anyone?). All this is fine and dandy. I'm not against westerns; I just figured I would give you a heads up because Sanderson has somehow fooled the world into thinking this is merely steampunk.

As always, he has a magic system that is innovative--new, with its own new boundaries. He is using the Mistborn magic system, but he's tweaked it (with a suitable explanation for how the changes came about).

The book also made me laugh. He has some wonderful, witty characters in this story.

The thing that made this book clumsy is that it is so blatant. For instance, the characters enter a ballroom and the main character immediately starts musing about how one could use that space in a defensive battle. Then guess what? Battle happens in the ballroom. It was a promise, but it was painfully obvious and that ruined it for me. That sort of thing happens all over the place in the book.

Sanderson also did not take the time he normally would have taken to make this book flow. For instance, I was in the climax when I suddenly realized that this was supposed to be the climax. I was never in a position to forget I was reading a book.

The big question: Was this my reaction to the book because I've been listening to Writing Excuses, or is he really that blatant and clumsy with the narrative? I'd love a second opinion on that.

The Power of a Story

This is my 100th post. No pressure, right? It's a weird anniversary, since it isn't a date-associated one, but rather, content-associated. I had a few ideas about what to write about for this post, but a photo I saw while at work yesterday immediately stood out and superseded them all. This is the picture, along with the cutline (newspaper-speak for caption).

An Indian laborer pulls a cart heavily loaded with goods while others
assist him as they make their way through a crowded street in the old
city area of New Delhi, India, on Aug. 21, 2014. (AP Photo/Bernat Armangue)

It was a "Daily Life" photo, I believe, which means it isn't attached to any particular news item. It is just meant to show how people around the world live. I have no idea what you see when you see this picture. When I saw it, I was reminded immediately of The Elephant: The Life of a Coolie by Aravind Adiga, a story that appeared in The New Yorker. That story made this photo come alive for me. Far more than just an image, this is a visual representation of all the sensations and emotions described in Adiga's story.

A picture may be worth a thousand words, but if a picture is supported by a story, the picture is given added power.

Robin Williams' daughter tweeted a quote from The Little Prince following his death:

This is the Little Prince talking, and he is in turn reminding us of a lesson a fox taught him. The fox says that even though the Little Prince is leaving him, their friendship was worth it because now when the fox looks at fields of wheat, the color will remind him of the Little Prince's hair. This adds meaning to the wheat fields. They are no longer simply fields of wheat (which a fox can't eat); they are a symbol of the Little Prince. In this quote, the Little Prince is telling the narrator that he is leaving to live in the stars again, but their friendship was worth it because now the narrator can look up into the stars and remember the Prince; the stars now mean something.

Time spent with stories can help build meaning into the lives we live. I did not have any association with a man in India pulling a cart, but after reading one short story, I connect with that picture. It becomes more than a picture to me.

So read often. The world around you will increase in depth, and the people with whom you associate will become more. Reading builds empathy, because a well-told story allows us to look at the world through another person's eyes. You will then understand the world better, because understanding only comes through having similar experiences. A library can be like a shoe store in that reading allows you to walk in someone else's shoes.

And if you are a parent, please oh please nurture a love for reading in your child. It's important for more than literacy; reading will help them grow into a knowledgeable, caring adult. And besides that, a visit to the library provides free (and quiet) entertainment. Everyone loves stories; they just have to find the right ones for them.

Oh, and did you notice that Robin Williams' daughter reached to a story for comfort? What is around us adds meaning to what we read. That's why we can return to the same stories over and over again and experience something new each time. Our understanding of the world has changed; this, in turn, has changed the story itself.

Writing Excuses notes, Season 8

This was the final season in my self-assigned Writing Excuses course. The podcast is on Season 9 now. I'll talk a little more about it as a whole when I'm done with these notes, at the end of this post. For now:

1. Rogues work because the enemy is even worse, and besides, they're charming.

One of my favorite movies. Haven't seen the new one.
I guess I feel like this is a movie that would transcend a remake.

This was the reason the Writing Excuses people came up with for why we like characters like Flynn Rider, Robin Hood, the three musketeers, Jack Sparrow, (I'm trying to think of a female rogue...) and Irene Adler (does she count? I'm going to say she does). (You know, Tamora Pierce has some female rogues, and so does Brandon Sanderson, now that I think about it.)

We wouldn't like them in real life, but as characters, they are entertaining. They get to have crazy shenanigans, one-liners, and style. They do not have to keep a clean image; we don't care if they dirty it up a bit ... so long as they don't turn downright evil.

Kissin' Kate Barlow. That's another female rogue. Holes, by Louis Sachar.

2. Do not have a resting portion at the end of a chapter.

Yes, there need to be times when your reader can breathe, mainly because if you keep the tension up high the entire time, they'll combust. Okay, they'll just get worn out. Still, not good.

I have a theory that my muse is a cat.
In case you were wondering.

Just don't put these rests at the end of a chapter, because then your reader can put the book down and walk away for a long time. Like, return the book to the library unread, possibly. Hopefully they are more interested than that, of course, but either way, people like to read in sections (I think, but I haven't done a study on it or anything), and chapters are your established sections. You want to carry them into the next one, so give them something that will push them into it.

Don't always end in cliffhangers, though. That gets old. Just keep the plot moving, and don't resolve everything at the end of your chapters (remember that your chapter is supposed to have its own story arc). Leave some questions unanswered, and don't resolve your main conflict until the third act.

3. Do not write a chapter that the reader can skip.

If they can skip it, that means it is taking up space for kicks and giggles and doesn't really need to be there. Quit killing so many trees.

And wasting people's time. Also, if they can skip it, they will get the sense that this story is taking too long to be told. Every chapter should advance your plot.

4. Put description in dialogue in places where there would be a pause.

I thought this was a brilliant idea. Example:

Soda just put his hand on my shoulder. "Easy, Ponyboy. They ain't gonna hurt you no more."

"I know," I said, but the ground began to blur and I felt hot tears running down my cheeks. I brushed them away impatiently. "I'm just a little spooked, that's all." (The Outsiders, S.E. Hinton)

 Wasn't that a perfect pause? Because you know Ponyboy paused between saying "I know" and "I'm just a little...", right? It makes the conversation flow and optimizes the space. It creates a pause, instead of just announcing that there was a pause. This is something I am definitely going to try.

I also like how Hinton only had a small amount of detail. Too much detail, and you forget what was just said. That amount was perfect for how long the pause was supposed to be, I think.

In my notes, I added to this that you should also put in body language where it would be used. People use body language in real life; why not in stories? Mental note to not ignore body language. It can and should be used.


That wraps up my course. My review of the podcast itself? ... Good, but usually what I got out of it the most was from a sentence or two someone happened to say in the episode. You'll notice how few notes I took, and I was listening to ten episodes per season. Maybe this would be a great place to start, though, for someone just beginning to write. That, and if you're getting close to submitting it for publication and want some guidance. Either way, I would give it a try to see what you think. WritingExcuses.com. As for me, I think it was definitely worth my time. Plus, it gave me something to listen to while I was doing my hair and fixing dinner each day, and that's always a plus.

Chris Crutcher: YA author who led a writer's workshop today

I was darn near close to blowing up when I saw Kenneth'd put up that Dead End sign right under the street sign for Margaret. To emphasize his point, the git even took a black Sharpie to it and wrote it out to say "Margaret is a Dead End." Then, you know, skull and crossbones and junk.

At this rate, I was going to have to move. Only thing kept me was I had just three months to go 'fore I could graduate, and the least that school could do after putting me through so much trouble was to hand me a sheet of paper with my full name and the school seal on it. Congratulations, Gret. You survived.

The git had even soldered the darn Dead End sign on, so there was nothing I could do about it, 'cept to ice his front step, which I did. If I was a man, I might've peed on it, too, but it's just too awkward to squat. I'd've been moonin' the street. If a girl these days is expected to whip her shirt off and pull her pants down for just anyone, well, then I guess Kenneth's right about me being a dead end. I expect my handlers to stop and stay, not park for a show. At least the git got me dinner—and if I wasn't lettin' him see anything, you better believe I ain't givin' that to traffic for free.


I had the opportunity today to attend a writer's workshop by Chris Crutcher at a library near my home. Crutcher writes realistic fiction for young adults, and I've got to admit that I had not heard of him until last night when I was putting the newspaper together and noticed the event in our calendar. I'm not usually spontaneous—if I ever seem spontaneous, it's 90% most likely to be planned spontaneity—and deciding to go to an event the night before was pushing it for me, but a free writer's workshop with a published author in attendance is too good to pass up because I'm an idiot who lives by a schedule.

So I signed up and went online to read bits of his writing to familiarize myself with his writing (and to make sure the workshop would be worth my time). The two pieces I took a look at involved a steep learning curve in the first few paragraphs, meaning that the reader was deluged with information and scrambling to pick it all up. Once that was over with, things usually settled down. I haven't read an entire book of his, so I can't talk much about his writing, but I will say that while it isn't brilliant, it's alright. What probably drives the books home is that they address issues in teenagers' lives that many adults don't want to look at. For instance, he read an excerpt from something of his during the workshop that was about a boy with two sets of gay parents. Society is starting to come around to these sorts of things, but it's easy to see why he's the sort of writer who has "Banned Book Week" as a tab on his main website.

The workshop itself was not much of a workshop, per se, and more of a mostly one-sided discussion about writing. The thing I liked best from what he said, which I will pass on to you, is the idea of a narrator's attitude being, "I won't tell everyone, but I will tell you." It gives the reader a one-on-one experience with the book, like they are getting individual attention. He specifically mentioned To Kill a Mockingbird as an example of this (I really need to reread that book. I barely remember it).

The bit of fiction I put above is something I wrote during the workshop, by the way, and the idea came from a street sign I saw the other day that was for Margaret Street, under which there was a Dead End sign. I felt like it was making a statement, and so when Crutcher asked us to write with the prompt of "It really made me angry when," I reached into my mental writer's notebooks and pulled it out.

When I say mental, I mean that I go through my writer's notebooks relatively often, so that those ideas don't die off, but stay within easy access of my memory. Road signs are typical of the sort of things I keep in my writer's notebooks. I think I've mentioned this before, but I'll keep descriptions, snatches of dialog, and phrases, for the most part, in my notebooks. Different writers work in different ways, but that's what I do.

Writing Excuses notes: Season 7

Nearly finished with these notes, and who knows what I'll do with this blog afterward? I mean, my Writing Excuses course kind of usurped nearly the whole blog. Kidding. I'll definitely find something new to guide what to write about. Stay tuned for another review on a Brandon Sanderson book, by the way.

1. Linger on describing the aspects of the setting your character cares about.

This is kind of a follow-up to my last post, but I learned this a season later. When you're trying to pick unique details to use, try using ones your viewpoint character would most notice, the things they care about. It will help your description to do more work for you. Take this excerpt from Holes as an example:

Stanley Yelnats was the only passenger on the bus, not counting the driver or the guard. The guard sat next to the driver with his seat turned around facing Stanley. A rifle lay across his lap.
Stanley was sitting about ten rows back, handcuffed to his armrest. His backpack lay on the seat next to him. It contained his toothbrush, toothpaste, and a box of stationary his mother had given him. He’d promised to write to her at least once a week.

The details used here show us that Stanley cares that he's on his own, he feels threatened (there's a gun and he is handcuffed, making him also feel like a criminal), and he cares about what he happens to own at the moment, as well as about his mother, who was the last loving figure he saw, most likely.

There is a lack of details about the bus itself, meaning the author just wants us to fill in the blank ourselves. The bus is not what matters to Stanley, so it isn't described. We also don't see what Stanley is wearing, because at this point, he probably couldn't care less.

2. Protagonist should be passionate about something that does not have to do directly with the main conflict.

That would lead to two-dimensionality. Nobody cares about only one thing, so don't make your characters care about only one thing. Alternate things to be passionate about make for great subplots, and even if you don't use them to add another plot, they can make your character more interesting.

3. Make your protagonist proactive.

They should not only react to what the conflict throws in their direction. Let them fight for something instead of just against it. The Writing Excuses crew said this problem is often why villains are more interesting than main characters. I love Disney's villain songs. They are often given the best song of a Disney movie, it feels like. It may just be that they get the best tunes, but their songs also bring out more of a reaction. They are more than just loving and reactionary; they are singing about what they want and what they're going to do about it.

4. Try placing your story near actual landmarks, and refer to them.

This will lend your story some authenticity while still allowing you to use a fake location, if so desired. Sherlock Holmes lived in a real place, but with a fake house and address.

My thing with using real places is they seem less exciting. If it isn't that, I won't do it because I want everyone to feel like it could take place near them. That leaves me with a terribly generic setting. Other things I've tried include setting an entire story in one enclosed area, such as one room of a government facility. This allows me to define my space and work within it, building my box to think outside of, if you will.

If I can't make a story feel exciting when it's set in a real place, then it's a failed story. The location should enhance, but if a changed location makes it boring, then there is something wrong, I think. The reason why London, New York, L.A., Paris, all those big cities are used so often in books is that it is easy to hide a fake place in a busy urban area. It also works and is used so often because so many people are familiar with those places, including the authors themselves.

This is not to say you can't go creating your own worlds. But if you want to set it in the real world, or if you want a parallel world (Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy, Harry Potter, Chronicles of Narnia), it's a good idea to give it some real-life landmarks as grounding. People won't immediately drop your book because you say it is set in Boulder, Colorado. The story will speak for itself, and if your reader has actually visited Boulder, then it will be that much more exciting for them.

Warning, though: Don't mess up your landmarks. People will not be pleased and they will drop your story if you say something about it being 115 degrees outside in June in Boulder (highest recorded temperature was 104 degrees, and that was in July, their hottest month, all the way back in the 50s). So do your research.

Writing Excuses notes, Season 6

Yeah, I can't think of a lead-in this time. So here we go--Writing Excuses course, notes for Season 6.

1. 30 pages for first act, 60 pages for second act, 30 pages for third act

Proportions, people. This isn't a rule, but I thought it was a useful guideline to keep in mind. Note that it's a ratio, not saying that every book should be 120 pages. Expand as necessary, keeping the ratio intact as much as possible. 30 pages gets you to the first boss. The 60 pages after that get you to the edge of the cliff. Last 30 pages gets you the final showdown, climax, and resolution.

I particularly like this because it mirrors your beginning and ending, and it should be useful in figuring out how fast to move your story along. It is something to keep in mind during your second draft or later, however, not the first draft. Remember that the first draft is what you want to say, the final draft is how you want to say it.

2. Personality as a plot device

Since your readers are more interested in your characters than the plot itself, generally speaking, you need to have interesting personalities, and they need to be involved in the plot. For instance, the use of Jack Sparrow's personality in Pirates of the Caribbean. Using him to get things moving provided more entertainment than if someone normal had figured out they needed to flip the boat upside down. He may be the comic relief, but he also moves the plot, meaning his personality is actually a plot device.

Another example would be Mr. Collins in Pride and Prejudice. His personality works to get the reader (or viewing audience, if they're watching it) emotionally involved in the plot.

Moral of the story: If you feel like things are getting a bit boring, consider adding in a vibrant personality to mix things up and drive your plot a bit.

3. Have a purpose for each description.

I am plenty guilty of skimming descriptions of places in books. I mainly do it because I won't remember them, anyway. I'm not a visual thinker, so I don't care what a room looks like except to know that it's a crowded bar. I will not remember what color the bar stools are or what the drink special of the day is. That is, I won't unless those details matter. So make your details matter.

Why are you telling the reader the color of the bar stools? Are they bright pink, just like everything else in the bar, which also has a rhinestone-studded wall spotted with Marilyn Monroe posters? Those sorts of details tell me about the atmosphere of the bar, and about the owner, if you want to involve them, too. Give specifics in your details, because they stick out (notice, not just posters, but Marilyn Monroe posters, and I may even describe one in particular) and make a place more unique and real. Those details also need to tell the reader something about the characters or plot (or place, if you're writing a story about place). Otherwise, they are a waste of space.

A couple of examples, along with what the description does. First is something I wrote, the next is a quote from a book.

There’s this diner I go to at least once a week. It’s a small place, and not much to look at. A yellow sign at the front that used to be white reads “Chris’s Diner,” but it’s hard to read because someone’s spray painted their signature over it. The food’s decent, though, and I pass it on my way to and from work. Most days when I go in, it’s because I’m too tired to warm up a can of soup.
I work in retail; I am too tired a lot of the time. It takes more energy than a bowl of cereal and a Subway sandwich to get me through the day. What I love about Chris’s Diner is that every time I walked in, Chris looks up from behind the bar and smiles as he says, “One of those days?” Then he goes back to cleaning the counter.
My table is next to a window with a view of the parking lot. The plastic seats are red and the seat across from mine in the booth has a small tear in it that Chris has tried to fix with some duct tape. Whenever I ask him if he is going to buy a new seat anytime soon, he always says he will replace it when the high school football team wins state.
The day I was fired from my job was “one of those days,” as Chris would put it. It was a particularly windy day and I kept my hands in my jacket pockets with the collar turned up as I fought my way into the diner. The wind made it difficult to open the door and difficult to close it, too.

What does the description do? Here, I was using it to ground my story. I wanted my audience to get a good idea of this diner, because it was my setting. I wanted it to be a real place. I don't expect my readers to remember all the details, but I do expect them to come away with and retain the impression of a locally owned diner that has a laid-back aura. It also should give the reader an impression of the owner as a human reflection of the diner itself. It's about the effect, not the visuals.

In this by-place of nature there abode, in a remote period of American history, that is to say, some thirty years since, a worthy wight of the name of Ichabod Crane, who sojourned, or, as he expressed it, "tarried" in Sleepy Hollow, for the purpose of instructing the children of the vicinity. He was a native of Connecticut, a state which supplies the Union with pioneers for the mind as well as the forest, and sends forth yearly its legions of frontier woodmen and country schoolmasters. The cognomen of Crane was not inapplicable to his person. He was tall, but exceedingly lank, with narrow shoulders, long arms and legs, hands that dangled a mile out of his sleeves, feet that might have served for shovels, and his whole frame most loosely hung together. His head was small, and flat at top, with huge ears, large green glassy eyes, and a long snipe nose, so that it might have been mistaken for a weathercock perched upon his spindle neck, to tell which way the wind blew. To see him striding along the profile of a hill on a windy day, with his clothes bagging and fluttering about him, one might have mistaken him for the genius of famine descending upon the earth, or some scarecrow eloped from a cornfield. (Sleepy Hollow, something I highly recommend. It's a short story, easy to knock out for Halloween if you feel like it.)

There are a lot of details here, which means the reader is going to forget almost all of them. Who cares that he is from Connecticut, unless the reader has some emotional connection to the place? One would be lucky to even remember Ichabod's name, given this paragraph to swallow. That wasn't the point, however. This deluge of description served the purpose of making Ichabod Crane look highly absurd, and that is our first impression of him. He is a character we are not going to take seriously. If Washington Irving had wanted us to know that Ichabod Crane was a tall and physically awkward schoolteacher from Connecticut who lived in Sleepy Hollow about thirty years ago, he could have said it just like that. It took up less than one sentence. But he didn't say it that way, because he was building an impression. First impressions in books are a big deal, just like in real life.

Plus, he got in some really cool comparisons while he was at it.

4. Don't run a story into the ground.

Resolve, but end the story so that the reader ends it themselves. It's like not explaining a joke. Nothing is funny if you have to explain why it is funny, and stories are better if they leave you when the group gets back to the car instead of also driving the reader home and breaking out lunch.

If we saw Snow White start holding court with her prince, that would be running it into the ground. We don't care. Perhaps this is why so many sequels are worse than the first movie?

Epilogues sometimes work, and that's because they're a "where are they now?" follow-up. The epilogue is not trying to tell a story, and they don't give us more than the bare bones of what happened to people. Only use an epilogue if you feel one is needed.

Writing Excuses notes, Season 5

One perk of being a writer: I just watched a bunch of movie pep talks in the name of research. How many jobs involve stuff like that? Not many.

But on to my notes from my Writing Excuses course, Season 5, because there is some seriousness to this trade.

1. Love triangles work because they build tension that carries the reader through.

Butler on top, Wilkes on bottom, FYI.

Sometimes, I get tired of the love triangle thing. I don't like drama in real life, and it stresses me out in books, too. It was nice to hear that there is a reason for using them beyond wanting to be overly dramatic. Every subplot needs its own conflict, and love triangles are filled with conflict (meaning that I want something but something else stands in my way). Scarlett O'Hara loves Ashley Wilkes, who loves her but loves his wife more, meaning the wife is standing between Scarlett and getting Ashley. Meanwhile, Rhett Butler loves Scarlett and wants to marry her, and he is a tempting option, meaning she has a choice to make—and voila, there is tension in the storyline.

Also worth mentioning here is that a love interest needs to be intriguing from the start, because they need to catch your readers' interest just as much as your protagonist's. If the reader is to become invested and feel the tension you are trying to build, they need to like the love interest (Writing Excuses people said readers need to like them as much as the protagonist does, but I think that is only the case in a romance book).

2. Stories are good because people you care about are doing things you care about.

Otherwise, you just don't care.

3. Suspense comes when the reader knows exactly what will happen if things go wrong.

It's not that the reader is left hanging—it's that the reader is left hanging over a cliff with a great view of the ground thousands of feet below them. Even if you're trying to build a fear of the unknown, that only works because we have filled in the unknown with terrible possibilities. Give the reader those possibilities, and they will be on edge, wondering just what will happen.

And, for fun, makes some of those possibilities happen. Do the worst case scenario, and make it even worse than was feared. Increase the tension. Turn the screw, as Henry James put it.

How do you present possibilities without having your characters sit down and map them out, plain as day? Chekhov's gun answers that question. Chekhov (Russian writer, playwright) said (copying the wording from Wikipedia, FYI), "If you say in the first chapter that there is a rifle hanging on the wall, in the second or third chapter it absolutely must go off. If it's not going to be fired, it shouldn't be hanging there."

Hanging a gun on the wall is what the Writing Excuses people call a promise, which brings me to

4. Fulfill your promises.

If you say something that stands out, like a particular gun on the wall of a house that is not a hunting lodge, it is a promise. Your reader will remember that you said it, and you will need to fulfill it. If you spend a lot of time on something, that is also a promise. Fulfill it.

So in Titanic, when they talk about how this ship is unsinkable, that is a promise to the audience that the ship will sink at some point. They built up suspense for a possible disaster by saying, time and time again, that this boat is unsinkable. The time spent on it, as well as the intrigue caused by how lofty that claim was, made it a promise the audience would remember. That is how to build suspense, by making a subtle promise and leaving it there on the wall for everyone to remember until you fulfill it, taking the gun down and shooting your own father when you learn he slept with your wife.

A promise left unfulfilled will irritate the reader. When I read Society of the Mind, the opening scene involved someone undergoing testing before brain surgery meant to sever their corpus callosum (combines the two halves of your brain). Since I knew this book was going to be about a computer that gained sentience, I noticed this first scene and logged it away as a promise. After that, I was waiting for them to split the computer's consciousness in two halves. Was this the author giving away the ending? Yes and no. Does foreshadowing give away an ending? Not if it is well done, and not unless you are A) someone trained to look for it or B) rereading.

Other promises you may remember and probably didn't recognize as such: The White Rabbit's first lines are that he is late (for what?). Mrs. Bennet starts Pride and Prejudice by freaking out about needing to marry off all her daughters (challenge accepted, says Jane Austen). Fern rescues Wilbur from death the day he is born (not the first time he'll need to be rescued, it turns out). And so on.

Waiting for the fulfillment of a promise builds suspense. Just be sure to fulfill that promise with flying colors.

5. First draft is what you want to say, final draft is how you want to say it.

You need to get it down, out of your head, into reality. Only then can it be worked on, because only then is it concrete enough to actually have strengths and flaws. So write what you want, then work on how you want it presented. Writing poetry, plays, novels, short stories, nonfiction, whatever it is, it isn't a race. This is not a newsroom, with a 5 o'clock deadline to get that story written and in tip-top shape. So take your time, but don't go so slowly you actually stop the project. Writing is to create, editing is to perfect. Write first, edit second.

Writing Excuses notes, Season 4

I daresay there shall be fewer notes in this post, mainly because I took fewer notes for this season of the Writing Excuses course.

1. With an epic, start with a small, personal plot, then make it huge.

Stories are about people, even those that are plot-driven. The interesting thing is how people react to what is going on, how they interact with their environment. That said, when you are writing an epic (read: story of enormous proportions, affecting the entire world, e.g. Lord of the Rings)

In case you were wondering, this
is what people are searching for most
on Google today (updated 45 minutes ago).
Tangent much, Elizabeth?

I am going to interrupt myself for a minute. I just typed "epic" into my URL bar to check my definition and the suggestions that came up were as follows: epic rap battles of history, epic fail, epic meal time (no idea what that one is), epic exchange (or that one), and epic sports (you mean, like, extreme sports?). This is comparable to when I tried to Google "average length of a letter" and the first few pages were about things like cover and recommendation letters, average word length in the English language (4.5 letters), the size of paper itself, and font size. I was asking about writing personal letters, the ones you put in the mail, with a stamp. What is up with this, Internet? Sigh.

Internet definition of an epic: "a long film, book, or other work portraying heroic deeds and adventures or covering an extended period of time."

Back to what I was saying two paragraphs ago, when you are writing an epic, you need to start with a personal story. Ex) Vin is an abused little girl in a thieving crew. Then gradually lead your reader into the epic so that they are grounded in character but the scope of consequences is huge. Ex) Vin becomes the person upon whom the fate of the world rests—but notice, if you're familiar with Mistborn, that she still has tendencies and trains of thought that bring back her beginnings, her personal subplot.

2. Have your characters describe each other, not themselves.

Remember how Catcher in the Rye starts?

If you really want to hear about it, the first thing you'll probably want to know is where I was born, and what my lousy childhood was like, and how my parents were occupied and all before they had me, and all that David Copperfield kind of crap, but I don't feel like going into it, if you want to know the truth.

And as far as I remember, he holds to that, never telling the reader much about himself beyond what is apparent in his narrative style and interactions with others. This is the way to do it with first person.

As for third-person narration, it is perfectly fine for Rabbit to tell Piglet that Tigger is inconsiderate, always bouncing in his garden and ruining everything. It is not fine for Tigger to turn to Piglet and say the same thing about himself. (I don't think Rabbit ever tells Piglet this, but you get my point.) It would be weird for Tigger to do that. I think the only time when a character should be talking about themselves that way is if they are supposed to be especially conceited or else they are going through therapy at the time and are talking to their therapist.

If you are having trouble describing a character without outright saying something, have another character say it about them. "And please get some coffee for the boss before you come in, she's being a nightmare," has more punch to it than "She was in a terrible mood." It also does not interrupt your story nearly as much.

Of course, actions speak louder than words, so I'd have the boss slamming doors or whatever it is she does when she's upset.

3. Switch viewpoints = switch storylines

I am waiting for the day when Microsoft Word and Blogger realize "storyline" is one word. Apparently that is not today.

For the record, the "Do You Want
to Build a Snowman?" song
is my favorite from the movie.

I had never thought of it this way, but if you are using multiple viewpoints in one story, that means you have multiple main characters, each with their own dominant subplot. When you switch viewpoints, you switch from one dominant subplot to another. In Frozen, when we're looking through Elsa's eyes, the story is about expectations, accepting yourself, and the love she has for her sister. Those are the ideas that evolve while we watch her. Ana's story is about love and realizing that not everything is the way she thinks it is. These ideas take precedence when we are following her, and Elsa's ideas are put on hold until we return to her viewpoint.

In real life, everyone is learning their own lessons, and we are all learning at the same time. It should be the same way in a story. It also helps readers keep things straight, preventing your characters from mixing together in the readers' minds.

4. Before switching chapters or viewpoints, finish the mini story arc.

There has to be some sort of conclusion before you move on. There are miniature story arcs in each chapter or viewpoint section of a novel, and they should begin, climax, and end within that chapter or section. This does not mean you resolve everything; you just have to resolve things enough that your reader doesn't feel discombobulated by moving on. (And people think long words are fancier. "Discombobulated" does not sound at all fancy, just funky.)

I have yet to see this movie, FYI.

In The Great Gatsby:

Chapter 1: Opens by introducing narrator, ends by introducing Gatsby.

Chapter 2: We are introduced to Myrtle, Tom's mistress. It ends with Myrtle talking about Daisy so much that Tom breaks her nose.

Chapter 3: Goes through a Gatsby party (from invitation to the end), ends with Nick talking about what his normal life was like.

and so on. Notice that for each chapter, the beginning and end complement each other, just as the beginning and ending of the entire story ought to do. Your reader needs to feel some sense of closure before they can move on to another chapter or viewpoint, otherwise they will feel constantly like they are breathing in and never get the chance to breathe out. Build tension from chapter to chapter, though.

This is my lovely sketch of what your chapter/section arcs should look like. Raise the tension each time, but also give it some resolution. In this graph, height=tension. In case you were wondering.

I have to get ready for work. Make money, be responsible, that sort of thing. (Read while sitting in traffic during my commute ... )

What's Elizabeth Reading? ...Kathryn Stockett

Books I consider to be masterpieces: Les Miserables, The Book Thief, The Little Prince, many others I have not read, and Kathryn Stockett's The Help.

I have been meaning to read this book since I watched the film. Here are some of my reactions while reading it, written down as I progressed through the book:

Pg. 2 - Fought urge to throw book across the room in frustration because I could already tell it was incredibly well written. It's okay for classics and famous authors to be this good, because there is a wall between them and me. But Kathryn Stockett? She is a regular person, as far as I'm aware. I briefly had to fight the depressing idea that I will never be as good of a writer.
Pg. 32 - It was like this in the 60s?! I felt like I was reading something set much further back, but then they would talk about using a vacuum.
Pg. 61 - This was when I realized I was reading someone's masterpiece. More on this in a minute.
Pg. 293 - I became disappointed that I had watched the movie first. Movies cannot build up tension and suspense nearly as well because they do not get to take their time slowly unfolding the plot. I wish I could have been along for the ride my first time reading this instead of already knowing the story. (Note: It was still brilliant and I loved every minute of it, even though I did know the story beforehand.)

I withheld full judgment of the book until I had totally finished, mostly because I've seen some wonderful books flail and die toward the end and it ruins the whole experience. I am happy to report this book ends well. My only complaint would be that it hints at resolution without actually showing us the resolution. Perhaps that is because there isn't a full solution yet in real life.

As for masterpieces. I struggled this week while writing a letter to my grandma to describe just what I mean by "masterpiece." It is not simply a five-star book. Many books can be brilliant without being a masterpiece (Mistborn, Pride and Prejudice, and Tinkers are all examples, in my opinion. Actually, please note that this is all opinion). What sets a masterpiece apart is that a person can only write one in a lifetime. Perhaps two, but I'm wary about that. A masterpiece is the culmination of a life set into a book. The author writes from somewhere deep within themselves, about things they care so much about they are nearly defined by them, or about a cause they are so close to it is no longer a cause. I ended up telling my grandma that it's like a person is writing their own scripture.

I believe Kathryn Stockett's The Help is a masterpiece because I could feel it doing those things. Sure enough, when I got to the end, there is a section about Stockett's childhood maid, who was black. This story is a piece of her life (yes, it is fiction, but fiction represents truth). It was a story she had to tell.

Beyond that, the book is entertaining. I was reading it even while I had a headache, when I am usually good at not reading unless it is absolutely necessary. In this case, I needed to read this book for the sake of my sanity this week. It has been a tough week for almost no reason at all. I just wanted to be left alone so I could read this book, and now I'm wondering if she has anything else out (she doesn't, I checked just after writing that). I want to know if she has more stories to tell.

I just realized I never did say what it was about. So I will do that and then ... either run to the library for a new book or be responsible. The Help tells the story of a set of black maids in 60s' Jackson, Mississippi. They come together along with a white woman to write a book about their experiences, with hilarity and touching moments along the way.

Writing Excuses notes, Season 3

You know, I prefer this sort of thing to a written test. If only I had been assigned to write a series of blog posts back when I was working for my bachelor's. Actually, I did have that assignment once, but it was to write a one-time blog post. And way back in the 7th grade, I had an assignment to make a blog. It's still somewhere out there ... an early version of this blog, in a way. I was going to use it to throw my writing out into the world. I can't remember how to access it, though. Meh.

Self-assigned Writing Excuses course ... third season! Woot! You feeling excited?

This was the start of me taking fewer notes. FYI.

1. When writing in two genres, pick one to market the story to and steal from the other.

Brandon Sanderson used Mistborn as an example: Mistborn is marketed as a fantasy story, but it borrows heavily from the heist genre. Another example would be superhero movies. For the most part, these are marketed as action flicks, but they are so much like science fiction it isn't even funny. That makes a lot of people think they are science fiction, so it's actually up for grabs. However, when you see a superhero commercial come on TV, you aren't thinking, "Oh my gosh, the science of that makes sense and that means x or y could happen and there are so many possibilities for this story! I wonder what is going to happen?!" No. You're thinking, "Dude, that looks really cool. I'm feeling an adrenaline rush and I'm not even seeing the actual movie. I need to go see that. Like, now."

A book needs to be marketed to just one genre because people who read genre-specifically are kind of territorial. Someone who loves hard science fiction is not likely to wander over into the graphic novels section to take a gander at Spider Man. That is because graphic novels have their own main audience. It's still true, though, that the writers of Spider Man stole science fiction tropes. These two genres are close, yes, so graphic novel readers have no problem finding out it is a science fiction action story. It's the science fiction people who would have a problem, I think, if they are into hard science fiction (you'd have to cut all the fantasy and superpowers out to make them happy).

2. Use subplots to: flesh out other characters, build tension and emotion, and introduce concepts

In The Wizard of Oz, the main plot is Dorothy trying to get home. A few of the subplots are embodied in her travelling companions: the scarecrow feels like a failure and wants a brain, the tin man wants a heart (though I can't remember precisely why. Doesn't he just want someone to love?), and the cowardly lion wants some courage so he can fulfill his potential. Each of these has a conflict, progression, and resolution (notice that they have parallel climaxes, too). These plots are there so that these side characters have personality and purpose. They aren't just there to keep Dorothy company. This helps to round out a story.


Charles Dickens's A Christmas Carol uses the subplots of Scrooge's past love and the Cratchit family to build emotion in the story (awesome book, by the way. I tried to allude to it at work the other day, saying someone was really dead, and someone else responded by alluding to The Princess Bride, with them being all the way dead. Either they didn't know what I was alluding to or we've got one cultured office full of subtlety). The subplots work to actually make the audience feel invested. Investment builds alongside emotion and attachment. Dickens also uses these same (and other) subplots to build up tension, making us realize just how much is at stake in the main plot and increasing the importance with our increasing concern.

Inception uses the Molly subplot (okay, maybe you see this as the main plot ... main plot vs. subplot gets murky in that movie. But stay with me here) to introduce the idea of limbo long before it becomes crucial to the main plot, which is at the end of the entire movie.

Subplots aren't just there to look pretty.

3. Your subplots should not be more interesting than the main plot, and there should be three to five of them

Inigo's story? Subplot.
Adds dimension to his character.

If your subplots are too interesting, perhaps you are telling the wrong story and you really should be talking about one of those subplots for the bulk of your time, making it your main plot. If you've got a boring main plot (it will seem boring in comparison with a more-interesting subplot), you've got a problem.

Three to five subplots is a good number because they are enough to add depth without losing your reader. They can only juggle so many plots at once. Don't wanna confuse nobody.


4. Falling = looking back to where you fell from, landing = looking to your goal

What I mean by this is that you need to be careful what your character is focusing on. Focus can change perception. It's the whole glass half full or empty thing; if you want your character worried about their acne, have them look in the mirror often, buy a lot of cream, visit a dermatologist. If they aren't, you can mention the acne and move on ... or not mention it at all.

As a side note, it turns out that when comics place their characters more toward the right (if reading left to right), it is a subtle way of making it look like they are moving forward with whatever problem they are facing. To the left means they aren't moving forward; they may actually be moving backward.

5. Actions should be meaningful

Don't have your character do something just for kicks and giggles. A lot can be packed into a single sentence. Take this scene from The Help (which I'm reading now! Check later for a post when I'm done with it):

I tried to ignore her. Problem was, I have to talk to myself when I make a caramel cake or else I get too jittery.

I said, "Hottest day in June history. A hundred and four outside."

Caramel cake!
Never had one before.

And she said, "Do you have air-conditioning? Thank goodness we have it here cause I grew up without it and I know what it's like being hot."

And I said, "Can't afford no air-conditioning. Them things eat current like a boll weevil on cotton." And I started stirring hard because the brown was just forming on the top and that's when you've really got to watch it and I say, "We already late on the light bill," because I'm not thinking straight and do you know what she said? She said, "Oh, Minny, I wish I could loan you the money, but Johnny's been asking all these funny questions lately," and I turned to inform her that every time a Negro complained about the cost of living didn't mean she was begging for money, but before I could say a word, I'd burned up my d*** caramel.

 The reader knows she's angry, and all we got that said that was burned caramel and a cuss word. Action should do that. It speaks louder than words in real life, why not in books?

See? I've been learning things. Definitely not a waste of the half hour per day I spent listening.

Writing Excuses notes, Season 2

Continuing with my notes from my self-assigned Writing Excuses course...with Season 2!

1. The three-act story structure

The Freytag Pyramid

First off, it was a small revelation that people actually have story structures. I was familiar with the hero cycle and the Freytag pyramid, but the three-act structure was completely new to me. It makes sense, though:

The first act of a story is when they have the call to action and overcome the first "boss," to use video game jargon. Remember how in Mario Bros. games, you have to beat the boss in the small, mid-level castle before you can beat the boss at the end of the level? Defeating the first boss is the end of the first act. The second act happens when the character(s) realize(s) they have won the battle but are actually fighting a war. That act ends when the protagonist learns what they need to learn to be ultimately victorious, though they may or may not realize they learned it. The third act is the exciting end stuff, the final battle(s), when things work toward a resolution. I suppose that every act should have its own Freytag Pyramid.

Example: For the first Harry Potter book, the first act spans the time from the beginning until they defeat the troll. The second act takes over from there and ends when they realize that Hagrid slipped up and gave away the secret to getting past Fluffy. The third act is the rest of the book (I love that sequence, by the way, where they have to get past all those obstacles. One of my favorite parts of the entire series).

2. All climaxes should cascade together (when using multiple plots)

Novels don't have just one storyline. Besides the main one (destroying the ring), there are smaller plots, particular to each character (trying not to be destroyed by the ring, protecting a friend, finding and working with the Ents). These are where we experience character development, so they are just as important, if not more important, than the main plot. Each subplot should have its own climax, and that climax needs to coincide with the main one. We need to realize that Frodo is not going to become evil at the same time we see him destroy the ring. That not only brings all the tension into one massive fireball, but it feels more right for your reader. Plus, what are you going to do when all your subplots are already dead before the end?

Let me add that some subplots can end early. Their climax should coincide with a climax or major turning point in the main plot. Just don't kill all your subplots.

3. Fight scenes should have a lot of emotion and should not be blow by blow

Westley: Fighting because he wants to get to Buttercup.
Inigo: Fighting because he wants practice,
it's his job, and he is having fun. (I suspect that last one
applies to Westley, too)

Blow by blow is boring, because we aren't seeing it. It also gets confusing for the same reason. The thing that readers are interested in in fight scenes are the mental and emotional stuff that is going on. Give them enough to let them feel the excitement of the fight ... which means we need to tap into the characters' emotions, because that's where the excitement will be. This is probably a big reason why movies play music during fight scenes. A silent fight scene is not exciting or terrifying. The music adds emotion to it, helping the audience really get into what is going on.

Why are the characters fighting? Keep that in mind and in your readers' minds. Fights can also be used as a problem-solving exercise, something that makes your character think and learn something about themselves, their opponent, or their situation.

4. A nonhuman race needs to be human enough that we can relate to them.

Something that has stuck with me since I read some Nietzsche was the idea that I cannot learn anything unless I already know something about it. There has to be common ground for me to build on. If you try to describe "red" when I have never experienced color, I will not learn "red" no matter how hard you try. The same thing goes for writing a nonhuman race. As a reader, I will not understand them unless there is a base of similarity of experience. You have to describe them using comparisons I know and understand. Thus, Superman looks like a human even though he is from another planet. If he were an undescribeable monster, he would lose his superhero appeal.

Along with that, nonhuman species need to have more than one defining characteristic. They need dynamic personalities. No dog is exactly the same as the next dog, and no human is exactly like the next human. Give your species values, motives, customs, and any other detail you feel they need if they are going to be believable. Don't shortchange them just because they aren't human.

5. Government should have a face. What personal freedoms are allowed?

Aside from taxes, most of us see the government in our lives when they tell you what is and is not legal. An image comes to mind, whether that be a person, a flag, or a building. Both of these elements are needed if you are constructing a government that you want mentioned in your story. It provides a roundness to the world you are creating. No need to make a government, though, if you aren't going to use it at all.

That's it for today. Now I'm going to spoil myself and do some reading.