How not to bore your readers

Charlie Jane Anders wrote a piece for io9 about How to Write Descriptive Passages Without Boring the Reader or Yourself. Her article includes some good advice, including:

1. Commit to never being boring.
2. Engage all five senses.
3. Try being super terse.
4. Make it dynamic rather than static.
5. Make fun of the thing you're describing.
6. Project feelings onto an inanimate object.
7. Give your POV some visceral or emotional reaction.
8. Use less dialogue.
9. Use description to set up a punchline in dialogue.

I would add three more for an even dozen:

1. Never start a book or chapter with too much description.
2. Interleave description in small doses.
3. Write about interesting places.

Candelaria (aka Pickhandle Gulch)

I usually start chapters with action and then intersperse tight paragraphs of description. I prefer delivering description in a single paragraph at a time and seldom have more than two descriptive paragraphs in a row.  I also like to write about interesting places. Novels will take you to mundane locales, but you can always insert an interesting detail. 

The Steve Dancy Tales start in a Nevada mining camp called Pickhandle Gulch. I walked the current-day ghost town, fascinated by the miners’ rock igloos.  (The town must not have discouraged littering because the mouths of these rock dwellings were strewn with hundreds of rusted tin cans.)

Here is how I described the camp in The Shopkeeper.

Pickhandle Gulch nestled between the Silver Peak Range and the Excelsior Mountains. The main road curved up a mild grade toward a stamp mill, an ugly building that pulverized rock and made a nerve-racking noise all day long. About two dozen thrown-together buildings lined either side of a road, and hundreds of hovels scarred the surrounding slopes. Miners built these shelters with rocks because the beige hills that rolled off in every direction were completely barren of trees. For that matter, hardly any foliage reached above a man’s boots, and even the valley spread out below presented only a relentless brown landscape spotted with a few rocks and some pale sagebrush. Lumber was the second-dearest commodity in town. Water was the first.

Honest westerns ... filled with dishonest characters.

History Rides Shotgun—Excellent Advice

Jennifer Cody Epstein published, “10 Rules for Rewriting History” at Writer Unboxed.  As a historical writer, I found the article helpful and full of great advice. I think I've encountered all 10 issues, but number one, History Rides Shotgun, is my nemesis. I enjoy research and like fascinating factoids. It’s difficult for me to not look for a place to tuck in a real life incidence or coincidence that I think is interesting all on its own.

Epstein writes, “Remember that what you’re writing is a novel—not a history book. This means history should be used only to heighten and deepen your narrative, and not the other way around. Be careful not to get hijacked by some fascinating event that doesn’t fit naturally into your storyline, because no matter how hard you try it simply won’t work in the end. If it doesn’t relate to your plot, it shouldn’t be in there.”

Solid advice. I have a proclivity to violate this rule, so I need to be vigilant during revisions to look for extraneous information that does not advance the story.

Honest westerns ... filled with dishonest characters

In the latest Steve Dancy Tale, The Return, Dancy and Sharp travel to see Thomas Edison in order to secure rights to his inventions for mining. In the research for the novel I discovered all kinds of interesting things about Edison, Menlo Park, New York City, and 1881 movers and shakers. I was also startled to discover that Edison owned mines and developed numerous patents that applied specifically to mining. It was difficult to avoid letting the Wizard of Menlo Park interfere with Dancy’s story. I succeeded by scrubbing the story during revisions and being conscious that this was a particular problem for me. I also used a technique that I’d like to add as a tip to Epstein’s Rules. At the end of the book, I added a “Historical Note.”  Through this device I was able to inform the reader about some historical tidbits without disturbing the flow of the story.

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Historical Fiction—Doing it Right

A great first sentence does not a page-turner make

Every novelist wants a memorable first sentence. There are innumerable lists of great and dreadful first sentences. (#95 at the great link is a hoot.) Writers seem to always struggle for the perfection—searching for uniqueness, and then honing each word until it demands attention.

Perhaps Charles Dickens started this obsession with the beginning of A Tale of Two Cities, “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.”

(One of my favorites is my score-settling first sentence in The Shut Mouth Society, “Amos Cummings cursed his editor.”)

Despite first sentence mythology, the greatest first sentence in history will not make a page-turner. Readers often blow by the first sentence with nary a thought. The most important aspect of a genuine page-turner is chapter endings. The end of a chapter is the natural point to put aside a book, so to deprive readers of sleep, each chapter needs to end with a teaser. A cliff-hanger is not necessary; in fact, a string of these can be tiresome.  All that is necessary is a hint of mystery, discovery of a fact not disclosed to the reader, a character startled by a revelation, an imminent threat by an antagonist, or anything else that prompts the reader to flip the page to see where the story will go next.

Here are a few chapter endings from The Shopkeeper.

I glanced at the shop door, closed to the outside. “Unfortunately, the world has a way of intruding.”

I didn’t make excuses but looked at each man sequentially. Finally, Richard said, “Okay, we’ll tell you everything we know.”

I took a deep breath and reminded myself that I could not win this battle by remaining indoors.

If you want to write a page-turner, focus on chapter endings. They should not be over the top. The idea is to entice, encourage, tempt, compel, or even bribe the reader to continue reading. If you need further examples, watch the early seasons of the television program 24. The writers were masters at bringing the viewer back for the next episode.

Historical Fiction—Doing it Right

I write historical fiction. I chose this genre because I enjoy the research and a historical novel can last forever. My first book was a nonfiction computer technology book that was obsolete before Wiley could get it on bookshelves. After that experience, I vowed never again to write a book that had a three nanosecond shelf life.

(The Shut Mouth Society is a contemporary thriller, but it still has a strong historical theme around Abraham Lincoln.)

I enjoy history. History is the big, ongoing story about how we developed as a world and as a nation. History is a gazillion stories about people who lead, hindered, or stood around as stuff happened. Every one of them has potential to be an interesting story.

In nonfiction, events should be factually accurate. Historical fiction, on the other hand, can go places where nonfiction dare not tread, but it should stay true to the tenor of events. Although historical fiction may be free of the rigors of documentation, it remains subject to the precepts of storytelling. That means historical fiction, like all fiction, must have a beginning, middle, and end and remain interesting throughout. That’s always a tough assignment, but especially difficult when telling about real events.

A few months ago, Chuck Sambuchino wrote “How to Write Historical Fiction: 7 Tips on Accuracy and Authenticity.” I agree with all seven, but would add an eighth: don’t let research interfere with telling the story. This is not original with me, of course. It is usually stated: don’t let your research show. It’s tempting to drop a factoid into a storyline. Interesting tidbits can add spice and intrigue. They may do just that, but unless the information moves the story forward, it should be cut. The prime directive of storytelling is to never take the reader out of the story. A fascinating sidebar does exactly that. In fact, the more fascinating, the more likely it will distract the reader away from the story. Good writers should cut everything extraneous to the storyline.

Adhering to an accurate timeline can also ruin a story. Tempest at Dawn is my novelization of the Constitutional Convention. In my first draft, I presented speeches in their proper historical order. My book was as disjoined as the actual convention. When someone gave a speech, it took days for an opponent to craft a rebuttal. All kinds of other subjects were discussed in between. By remaining faithful to the actual sequence of events, the critical elements of pacing and tension were lost. I decided to write a historical novel about the convention to bring life to the characters and intrigue. Exactness was defeating my purpose.

There are many top quality history books on the Constitutional Convention, so I decided to tell a rousing story that was true but not completely accurate. In my first major rewrite, I adjusted the convention sequence so speeches were immediately followed by rebuttals. Since I only included the controversial or emotional speeches, the book suddenly took on energy. I also discover that the adjusted timeline made alternate opinions more easily understood.

I resolved the ethical question with a Historical Note at the end of the book that explained I had reordered speeches for clarity. A simple solution to keep the story moving.

Indie Publishing Rewrites Promotion

Kim McDougall of Castelane, Inc. recently wrote to  ask for permission to re-publish on the new Castlelane website an article I wrote for Turning Point .  I agreed, but in rereading the article, I decided it could use an update. Here is the revised article.

There’s not much you can believe about indie-publishing.  Information from indie-publishing houses is suspect, and most of the other data comes from people who make their living off striving writers.  As someone who has published with a traditional house and indie-published, I’ll try to give you the straight scoop.

First, I Indie-publish by choice.  It didn't start out that way, but now I’m convinced that indie-publishing is the best route for me.

My first book was published by Wiley.  It was an agented, non-fiction book.  After I completed my first novel, Tempest at Dawn, I secured a different New York agent that specialized in fiction.  While the agent shopped my lengthy, historical novel, I wrote a genre Western titled The Shopkeeper.  Since the typical advance for a Western wouldn't make a decent down-payment on a Nissan Versa, my agent declined to represent it.  No problem, I’d indie-publish.

Currently, my novels are in print, large print, audio, and e-book formats.  My large print and audio contracts are traditional contracts with advances, so I still have a foot in each world. I’m making money, but what is more important, my platform continues to grow.  (My agent didn’t sell Tempest at Dawn, so I ended up indie-publishing it as well.)

Why I Stay with Indie-Publishing

That’s how I started indie-publishing, but why do I stay with it after building a respectable platform? Three reasons:  speed, income, and control.

Writing Tools of Famous Authors

Flavorwire published a list of writing tools used by famous authors. I was disappointed in the article because they failed to ask me about my favorite writing tools. What could they be thinking?

Anyway, to fill in the record, here are my top three writing tools. 1) coffee, 2) a laptop, and 3), my imagination. Put those three ingredients together and books pop out. Okay, they don’t exactly pop. More like creep. Even after they emerge full-born, they're unruly, demanding of attention, and a bit messy. They’re my babies, so I immediately use the same tools to whip them into shape—figuratively speaking, of course.

 

I’m not sure how earlier authors wrote in longhand. In fact, the further away I get from those awful pages filled with slashes and O’s, the harder it is for me to even write a check legibly. Four-function calculators ruined my ability to multiply and divide; now I can’t write without a trusty computer. 

I once wrote a book in longhand and paid a typist to produce a readable copy. After reading the supposedly readable copy, I revised the gibberish and paid to have it typed again. No wonder I gave up. I couldn't even grip a golf club properly after a few hours of writing. 

Does that mean the old masters were better writers than a modern day author with moon-launch technology at their fingertips? Yes.

I'll never quit admiring authors who composed entire works with pen or pencil and a few reams of paper. James Madison wrote over 200,000 words when taking notes at the Constitutional Convention. That was in addition to his contributions to the Federalist Papers and countless letters to friends, neighbors, and enemies. Shakespeare wrote 38 plays, 154 sonnets, and 2 epic poems. Both men's hands were perpetually ink-stained from writing with quill pens. Mozart walked around in public with a blackened hand as well. Early writers and composers had to do it all in their head, without the capability to save multiple versions, print endless copies, or cut and paste words or whole sections of a work.

I enjoy writing, but I do not have that kind of talent. So, I'm happy to live in an era with magical word processors that make it easy to rewrite. Come to think of it, I'm also happy to live in an era with flush toilets.

Would You Care for a Slice?

I don’t believe there are only seven basic stories types, or that all stories are about “a man goes on a journey or a stranger comes to town.” Stories span a long continuum, with hard reality at one end and pure fantasy at the other.

One of the categories used to describe stories is slice of life. This moniker means the story describes mundane events that could happen to anyone. This is where literary authors shine. Great writing is supposed to make slice of life fiction engaging and enlightening.

Illustrators have always worked with storytellers

This kind of thinking has sent many aspiring authors down a path to oblivion. In truth, there are no pure slice of life books. At least, not any successful ones. Look at Little Women, To Kill a Mockingbird, The Help, The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency, or anything by Jane Austen. These books may seem mundane or low key on the surface, but the authors are expert storytellers. Take The No. 1 Ladies' Detective Agency as an example. Most of Ramotswe’s cases are mundane to the point of being inconsequential, but the investigations are as suspenseful as any Agatha Christi murder. To Kill a Mockingbird and The Help artfully reveal courage in commonplace social situations. Little Women often seems autobiographical, but Louisa May Alcott knew when to deviate from her real life to keep the story interesting. Austen kept her readers engaged with suspense, characterization, and dialogue, all vital tools for storytellers.

People don’t live in the rhythm of a story. Everything that happens does not move an individual’s life toward a conclusion. People do not consistently spout clever lines. Writers put those words in their mouth. Writers scrape off all the boring stuff from everyday life. And writers move the story unfailingly forward.

To keep readers captivated, study the art of storytelling. 

Should a Writer Use Friends as Characters?

No!

Well, that's the simple answer. I have a rationale behind my answer:

1. If the friend doesn't like the character—bye, bye friend
2. Once started, there's no end
3. I write the story for readers, not to amuse people I know
4. My characters have a mind of their own ... and it's never the same as someone I know

I have used friend names for characters, but those characters were very different people. So different that there would be no confusion. I do this occasionally as a tiny nod of acknowledgment. Besides, some of my friends have cool names.

Be nice to this woman

That said, I have been tempted to follow Mary Higgins Clark's example.

“When someone is mean to me," she said, "I just make them a victim in my next book.”

Now that's a great idea. 

I've encountered a few people I’d like Steve Dancy to castigate. (That’s castigate, not castrate.) I’ve restrained myself so far because of rule #2. I think that if I ever succumbed to temptation, I'd definitely be stepping onto the proverbial slippery slope.

Fear and the Bleeding Manuscript

Once upon a time, I feared red ink … now I look forward to it. The red ink means another set of professional eyes are helping me write a better book. I tell stories; editors keep the reader’s head in the story. Errors, typos, and awkward sentences break the magic of storytelling, and since I spend about a year on each of my novels, I want uninterrupted magic.

There are bad editors, of course. I had one once. She was assigned to me by a major New York publisher and saw her job as bending my book in another direction. Bad editors can exasperate a writer and even destroy the commercial success of a book. Luckily, I now have a good editor, and she has worked with me on all six of the Steve Dancy Tales. It’s been a good partnership. She knows the characters, the storyline, and my foibles.

Honest westerns filled with dishonest characters.

Another way to jerk the reader out of the story is to use a modern word or phrase in a historical novel. In my last manuscript, my editor caught the following words that would be inappropriate for 1880.

nonstop, 1902

freewheeling, 1931

racketeers, 1924

dim-witted, 1934

sidestepped, 1900

lowlifes, 1911

dock-workers, 1913

shoot-out, 1948

best seller, 1889

S.O.B., 1918

run-of-the-mill, 1930

blabbermouth, 1936

top-notch,1900

gangland, 1912

scam, 1963

headlock, 1905

paddy wagon, 1930

Most readers wouldn't catch these, but I’m glad they've been scrubbed from the manuscript.

I'll go carefully through each edit and editorial comment. Then I'll print the book and read it once again for continuity, clarity, and crispness.

See my earlier post on continuity, clarity, and crispness

When I finish with this round, it will be off to the publisher for interior design and proofreading. I wish that would be the end, but in this modern world, I’ll also need the book professionally formatted for different brands of eReaders.

How do you decide between First and Third Person?

In a previous post I wrote about giving the reader a clear signal that the point of view was about to change.

It all depends on how you look at it—Point of View

In this post I want to discuss one of the writers first and biggest decisions. Before you can write a single word, you need to decide whether the story will be told in the first or third person. I’m assuming that in either case, the author would use past tense. (If a writer wants to attempt second person or present tense, I have no suggestions, but I wish them luck.)

The Steve Dancy Tales are written in first person, while Tempest at Dawn and The Shut Mouth Society are written in third person.

First Person Point of View

The standard first person narrative requires a single point of view for the entire book and the story must unfold in front of the main characters eyes. This makes first person popular for detective novels because, except for a few tricks, the reader knows as much as the protagonist. From a plot perspective, first person can be difficult to pull off, but the reader is more likely to become attached to the protagonist. These aspects of a first person narrative caused me to use this point of view for the Steve Dancy Tales.

Third Person Point of View

I used third person in Tempest at Dawn. Third person is less personal and facilitates changing points of view. The Constitutional Convention is an iconic event in American History and I wanted the reader to view the events and people from some distance, as if it were a documentary film.

I had major difficultly deciding on the point of view for The Shut Mouth Society. I had just written my first Dancy novel in first person, but I wasn't sure that was the right way to go for a mystery/thriller. My technique for coming to a decision took a couple days of writing. I wrote the first chapter in both first and third person, and then put it aside for three days. When I came back and read the two versions side-by-side, the decision was easy. I wrote the book in third person. Despite having two protagonists, I never switched the point of view.

The connection between the reader and the story is through the narrator. I have a bias toward a single point of view because I think a single storyteller makes this connection stronger and the narrative more memorable. That said, I alternated points of view in Tempest at Dawn because it made sense in the presentation of the story.

A novel must take a reader to another place and time. The author decides how to transport the reader.

It all depends on how you look at it—Point of View

I’m reading a thriller from a big name author. It’s a bestseller published under a Simon & Schuster imprint. Yeah, I found a few typos and stray words, but they didn’t bother me. I miss some mistakes myself, so I’m pretty charitable. What I found discombobulating were the sudden shifts in point of view. With no warning, the reader was thrown from inside one character’s head into the thoughts and feelings of another character. These were stray single paragraphs wedged into an otherwise consistent point of view. It might just be me, but when this happens, it stops me cold.

There are three proper ways to change point of view: a section break, a chapter break, or use an omnipotent point of view. (I’m not going to address tense or first, second, and third person which should be artfully reliable throughout a book.) 

Omnipotent is when the reader regularly gets inside the thoughts and feelings of different characters. An omnipotent point of view (POV) is difficult to carry off, but with a deft hand it can be done so the reader never notices. In fact, the reader should never become overly conscious of the point of view. It’s distracting.

That’s why I prefer a fourth technique. Never change POV. My four Steve Dancy Westerns and The Shut Mouth Society use a single POV throughout the entire story. This was difficult for The Shut Mouth Society because the thriller has two protagonists. I tried switching POV between the hero and heroine, but decided that it added to the mystery if the reader didn’t know what one of the major characters was thinking.

I used a different approach with Tempest at Dawn. Since this was a novelization of the Constitutional Convention, I used POV to heighten the conflict between the opposing forces at the convention. Every other chapter alternated POV between James Madison and Roger Sherman. This allowed the reader to feel the emotions on both sides of the issues.  (I first ran across this technique thirty years ago in Kane and Abel by Jeffrey Archer.) 




It was difficult to keep the POV consistent when Madison and Sherman were together. Revisions and editing finally scrubbed out the irregularities. In the final chapter of the book, I made an exception to a single POV per chapter. Since both men were together for the entire concluding chapter, I switched to a distant omnipotent POV. In other words, I never entered the thoughts or feeling of either man, but described scenes as if a narrator was telling a story about what he observed. This is similar to a movie, where the viewer never gets to read the thoughts of a character.

People deride the errors in indie-published books, but turn a blind eye to the increasing number of mistakes that prestigious publishers allow to get into print. Sixteen years ago, when I published The Digital Organization, Wiley had the manuscript line-edited by three different editors. They told me a single editor always missed something. I suspect that economics has forced the major publishers to cut this to a single line-editor. It’s a business mistake because this is a level of quality indie-publishers can compete against.