Last week I asked everyone to try an exercise I first read
about in Donald Maass' book Writing the
Breakout Novel. You were supposed to grab your three all-time favorite
titles off of your bookshelves and give them a hard look, comparing them for
similarities in what you love about them. Ideally, this left you with a list of
things that draw you to a novel, those things that make you fall in love with a
story. Look closely at this list; are the elements of the list common
conventions of a particular genre? If so, have you already decided that you
want to write a story set in that genre? You might want to consider it. If you
go back and re-read part one of this series (click here), you'll remember that
I spoke about using things you like and dislike in genres to help generate
ideas for your story.
But the list you generated isn't just about identifying a
genre. The items on that list represent the things that you love about your
favorite novels; they are the things that push those three books from being
"great" or "good" to "I love this book so much I've
worn out three copies!" Those are powerful elements, because if they made
you love the book so much, chances are good that they did the same for other
people. So think about each of those items on your list, and consider them
carefully. Meditate on them, if that's your thing. As you concentrate, think
about how you would want to express
these elements in a story all your own. Take those rag-tag ideas as they
develop and jot them down so you can reflect on them later and develop them
more fully. I bet that after you've put some serious thought into the items on
your list, some ideas are starting to bubble in your brain. Take your time and
let them gather some critical mass until they explode and fill you.
In part one, I listed my own favorites that I used when I
first tried Maass' exercise, The
Belgariad, Dune, and The Wheel of
Time. I briefly described how the similarities in the main characters of
each of the books had similar elements, how they were all fantasy novels. I
didn't mention that each book had a developed "magic" which didn't
require considerable hocus pocus or ritual to perform, but they do. Looking over my list, I developed the
character of Laeryk Thorn: A young man struggling against his destiny, which is
at odds with his dreams and aspirations, who possesses a hidden power that he
will be forced to develop as he struggles to maintain some control over his
life. After I had a grasp on the basics of Laeryk, I started examining what
sort of story he would be in. What was his destiny (they're always
world-shattering); what was his hidden power (a form of magic, but an exclusive
one that only a few people can master); what was it that his destiny was
preventing him from doing (following in his father's footsteps to become a
Wyvern Knight and restore his family's fortunes).
Laeryk Thorn became my basic building block for my story.
Have you found yours yet? If not, don't despair – writing about the process
now, it sounds as if this all developed quickly. In truth, it took a while. Be
patient.
Next Steps
So you have a basic building block for you story idea (or
two, or three, or more), what now?
Every good story needs conflict. As a species, we tend to
dislike stories that don't have some type of conflict. Which would you rather
pick up, a novel with an intriguing conflict, or a set of stereo instructions
that go into detail about the electronic components inside your stereo? Some of
you just had your eyes light up at the idea of those stereo instructions, but I
hate break this to you – you aren't the norm. Kudos for knowing what you like,
however!
Look at your building blocks and consider a conflict
surrounding them. This doesn't necessarily have to be a huge conflict; it can
develop into a subplot which might in turn help you consider the conflict for
the main plot. If your building block is a character, do they have an
antagonist? What keeps them from their goals? If you have a general place in
mind, what ails it? Are you the historical sort who favors one period of time
over another? What conflicts were going
on in our world during that time frame? It's almost impossible to not find something.
Don't just throw something out at random. These aren't questionnaires,
meant to be filled out in their entirety. These questions are meant to get you
going, be a starting point, so you can further develop your building blocks and
eventually find connections to tie them all together. Your answers shouldn't
necessarily be fully-fleshed out, but they should have a little detail in them.
For example, if looking at a main character's antagonist, you shouldn't just
say "some guy." Give that antagonist some small details – nothing concrete
yet, but enough that you're starting to get a sense of them. Maybe the
antagonist is the character's sibling? Why the sibling rivalry – what is its
focus? Perhaps the antagonist is a shadowy organization bent on world conquest?
A jilted lover? A rival monarch? That mysterious serial killer no one has been
able to catch yet? Maybe the antagonist is the character themselves, their
doubts or inhibitions, or a phobia they must overcome! (Not necessarily a split
personality, but hey – it worked for Tyler Durden!)
As you think about conflicts for each of your building
blocks, keep in mind that they should be things you find interesting. If you think a conflict is tired and worn
out, don't use it – or at least spice it up until it's interesting again! There
have been plenty of books about cops or detectives chasing serial killers
before; if you find that too tired and clichéd to sit through reading another
one, take it by the nose and give it a twist until it is interesting? Psychic link between the hunter and their quarry?
Serial killer not human? Work with it until it is interesting, or discard it.
Don't suffer a conflict you don't want to spend a long time exploring. It isn't
worth it.
Finally, as the conflicts for these building blocks become
more fleshed out, start connecting them together. Is your main character's
antagonist a sibling, and the kingdom they live in currently going through an
upheaval between the peasant and noble classes? What if one sibling is for the
peasants, while the other is with the nobles? That should spark some ideas,
maybe even whole scenes. Do they try to convince one another to switch sides?
Were they always opposed, or do they start out on the same side of the issues
and drift apart during the novel? Will the conflict end in a positive manner,
or is this a tragedy in the brewing? Often, these connections can illuminate a
main premise for you, or help further define it. At the very least, you're
finding ways to include multiple items from that list of elements you love into
your novel, and tying them together.
The Scene Test
In college, I studied screen writing. I took every course I
could get my hands on. Multiple books covering the topic of writing craft grace
the bookshelves in my office. The majority are screenwriting books, purchased
during those college days when I was determined to create a story that would
grace the widescreen. As a result, I tend to think about elements in my books
very visually. When evaluating the conflicts and details of each element of my
story, I have one vital criteria: Can I visualize a scene for this?
Stories are made up of scenes. Whether you organize multiple
scenes into a single chapter, or break them out into separate, shorter chapters
is a matter of personal style. The fact remains, every story is composed of
separate scenes, woven together to tell the story at hand. Films are also
broken into scenes, and are becoming more pervasive in our society (I'm
including television in this, so perhaps "visual telecommunication
media" is a more appropriate term). Ask someone for their favorite scene
in a book, and they might be hard-pressed to answer you; some people think of
books in their entirety rather than in the composite scenes. Film and
television are different. Perhaps it is the transitions from one scene to the
next, perhaps it is the auditory stimulus, but I believe that the majority of
people can separate the scenes of a movie or a television show in their heads
better than they can in books.
One of our goals, as writers, should be to craft scenes so
powerful that they stand out to our readers, to allow them to separate that
scene from the full context of the story as easily as they can a scene from a
movie. I recently finished reading Hemlock
Grove, which I started after having watched the first few episodes of the
television show produced by Netflix. Comparing the two, I can honestly say that
no one scene stands out in my mind from the book as separate or distinct from
the rest; they are all a "flat" image in my head as I roll through
the story. Thinking on the TV show, the amazing image of Peter transforming
into the wise wolf in front of Roman and Lynda stands out in my mind
immediately. The same scene is in the novel, but the visual power of watching
the transformation, Peter's body cracking and falling apart into meat, the wolf
shaking off the final viscera in a spray of blood and flesh, and then consuming
the remnants of its former body so that it wouldn't go into the woods hungry –
that stands out to me. I don't care what else I see on the show, that scene
will always be my highlight, my favorite moment. I really wish that the novel
had had the same lasting effect.
When thinking about scenes that I'm writing, I try to
visualize them as though they were in a movie; what feelings did the visuals
evoke, would they have a lasting impact, are they powerful? When I am satisfied
with the answer, I make note of them and I know that my conflict is going to go
the distance.
That's actually how Laeryk Thorn came into existence as the
main character. Originally, I struggled to take my elements and merge them into
a character I liked, so I tried to visualize a scene with this nebulous,
shadow-"character" featured. I tried to envision a final
confrontation, an exciting battle (for epic fantasy must have exciting
battles), complete with companions. The main character was still this blurry,
grainy "thing," a racy scene on the tv censored to protect younger
viewers from seeing any of the juicy bits. It wasn't working. My attention kept
being drawn to a companion, a knight riding on the back of a winged reptile
(not yet a wyvern, but I knew it wasn't a dragon – as much as I love the old
Dragonlance novels, I didn't want to invite comparisons), raining arrows onto
the battlefield from a crossbow mounted to his forearm. The character's image
was powerful, and I needed something to work on, so I started to develop this
companion. The more I worked on him, the easier it was to come up with details,
until I realized that the reason it was so easy was because this was my main character. I actually split
that original concept into multiple characters – namely Laeryk Thorn and Gavain
Whiterose – and suddenly the scene was much easier to see in my head, and far
more powerful. After that, the details started to fall into place.
That's it for this week. Now that we've hopefully got at
least one idea flowing in your head, we'll talk about fleshing out some of the
details a bit further and refining elements of the story in part three.
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