Flogging the Quill

Holding on to your readers

About 7 weeks ago I launched a story blog (Death Sucks: On being a vampire kitty-cat). I thought it would be interesting, and some fun. Turns out it's far more than that -- it's a crucible that's forcing me to learn more about how I need to approach the storytelling art.

My aim has been to put up a new segment every week. Each segment averages about 1,000 words. That may not sound like a lot to you, but that's on top of the day job, and on top of this blog (another 1,000 words a pop), and on top of writing the novel in progress, and on top of editing a client's manuscript, and on top of doing sample edits for interested writers. . .you get the picture. More than that, it's in front of a world-wide audience, and it has to be good. It's different from a rough draft that can sit on the desk awaiting a rewrite.

Here's what's so different about this from all my other writing: I feel the audience out there. Actual people are coming to the site for the next episode in the story. Leaving comments. They're there. Really there.

For the first time in all of my writing career, I have a sense of readers' presence at a story. It's as though I'm a storyteller of old, sitting around the fire in front of the cave, spinning a yarn. Listeners surround me in a circle. In the dark, I can't see their eyes or their expressions, but I know their eyes are on me.

I've found that I want -- no, need -- to keep those eyes focused on my story. I don't want anybody to stand up and walk away. And that awareness of their presence -- and the possibility of their walking away -- is affecting how I tell the story.

Unlike a book where there are pages to turn so easily and immediately, or unlike the storyteller's fire where it's happening realtime and there's not much else to do anyway, my story has to somehow be interesting enough to bring readers back after a week has gone by.

Suddenly I'm much more aware of the tension that I have to be creating on every "page" of this story. If each episode is 1,000 words, that's 4 pages of manuscript. I feel the need to end each episode with an irresistible story question hanging in the ether. There's no waiting for a cliffhanger at a chapter's end, the tension has to keep coming.

While writing this week's episode, my sense of those readers gazing at me told me that things were flagging. The previous scene had been somewhat expository, although there was interest deriving from discovering the oddly mundane world of the American Vampire Association -- bottled blood in vending machines, for example -- and tension coming from the main character's need to deal with a terrible pain that he knew was on the way.

I was about to transport my characters from the AVA's break room to an orientation lecture. I had written the following:

Meg bent and scooped me up. "Let's go, Patch."

The characters would then go down the hall to a classroom.

Ho hum, came a mental yawn. And I sensed yawns forming in those readers wanting to be energized by stuff happening that would entertain them, that would make the trip worth a week's wait.

So I thought, I need to inject some conflict. And then I thought, isn't that terribly mechanical? I mean, a story is supposed to grow out of character, isn't it? To arbitrarily decide "insert conflict here" seemed formulaic, like there was some kind of rule to follow.

On the other hand, I'm working on being a storyteller. And that means my story must keep minds riveted to the words and wanting more. Not all story questions have to come from conflict, of course. In the previous episode the main character, Patch the vampire kitty-cat, was about to experience the awful "vampire pain" that comes when a vampire needs fresh blood. There was suspense involved with the story question of how he'd meet that need in the middle of an office building where there were no living creatures to suck blood from.

But now. . .the professional side of me said we need a little conflict here, like a hand striking the top of a rolling hoop to keep it going. But the artist side of me said it needed to come out of character. And the readers wanted action, I was sure of it.

So many masters to please. So the professional side looked at what ore there was to mine. The primary vein is the main character, a cat. And the story is told from his point of view -- that of a cat. So, my storyteller side asked, how might a cat react to being picked up to be carried somewhere?

Sure, he might just go along with it, but where's the tension in that? No, I realized, cats have a powerful sense of protocol. Being Nature's royalty as they are, they expect certain courtesies from people. So the scene turned this way:

Meg bent and scooped me up. "Let's go, Patch."

I took a breath, arched my back, and gave her a major hiss. She dropped me like I was a bomb with a lit fuse. I wasn't really angry, but proper cat protocol is to ask. We're not furry baggage you can just haul around. Humph.

She said, "What's wrong?"

I glared up at her and shook my head. Actually, the orientation thing had sounded like a good idea to me, but manners are important. I walked to the doorway, then looked back at her. Would she get the message?

Meg squatted beside me. "I'd really like for us to stick together, Patch. Come with me?" She stretched a hand out to me, but made no move to grab anything feline.

I love an intelligent associate. I took in a little more air, said, "Mrrr," and then pushed my nose against her hand. I made no protest when she took me in her hands and stood, cradling me carefully. I believe associates learn faster when you reward their efforts, so I provided a soft little purr. She gave me a scratch behind the ears and we went into a large room set up like a classroom.

Now, this isn't huge conflict. Not life-threatening. But I think it was fun. And I think true to the "catness" I'm striving to create that gives my readers a fresh view of the world. It also served to advance the characterization of Patch and Meg, to expand their new relationship, and to provide the basis for future action. Now that I've established the concept of cat protocol, it may come in handy in the future. And I'll need every story and character tool I can conceive because, as I've told you, I'm bootstrapping this story, one post at a time, no outline.

My point? I'm not saying that you ought to start a story blog, but I am saying that if you approached your storytelling as if you were writing one you might have a new sense of urgency about creating a sense of urgency in your readers. You might be more aware of them, passively waiting in the glow of computer monitors, rooting for you, yes, but also demanding something of you.

Story.

Compelling story.

I'm not claiming to have achieved it here, although I do think I came up with a fair cliffhanger on the latest episode. Patch narrates about what's to come:

If I'd had breath, I'd have held it.

I'm hoping that, figuratively speaking, those readers out there will feel the need to come back next week to inhale more of my story.

I'll see, won't I?

Best,

Ray

Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission.

© 2005 Ray Rhamey

Dealing with details, character depth, and tension

Cecelia sent the opening chapter of her novel and writes:

1. How to make details enrichment and not boring?
2. How to add tension to a story without making it unreal?
3. How to add depth to characters without slowing the plot?

Here's how the narrative opens:

Allison could sense something was wrong all the way to the roots of her fur. This is the first time I've been in the game room since coming home and it's already mid hot season. Perhaps after the ritual Dad will let me stay with Kim and Jeff? He seems to be concerned about something…

Why would he keep me working at his study-link for half the hot season? Something has to be wrong, but what?

She stretched, trying to ease her neck and shoulders that ached from the long hours at the study-link. While waiting for Kim and Jeff to begin, she looked around the game room and noticed the sunbeams from Orus, the lesser sun, still played on the wooden floor. There's hours to go before Khylus rises and bedtime, she thought. Her eyes continued to travel across the room  pausing to watch the bright fish swimming around the screen of the children's study-link, in one corner of the large room.

Her gaze returned to the two boys. They were still walking up and down near the far wall, imitating the Trayreligan star explorers who had become lost in the vastness of space, while looking for a new world. They had landed on this planet, which they named Unreligus, in the cool season and found the climate pleasant, but the planet swung around on its orbit closer to the larger sun. As the weather turned unbearably hot even the rain became dangerous. The hot rainstorms had already killed several of the Trayreligans and it was crucial for them to find shelter.

Allison knew the story well. She knew it was important to remember these things, but her mind was still occupied with the reports from Earth. They were mostly the work of one man, Ambassador Seekay. The reports gave Allison a frustratingly one-sided view point of Earth culture. She wished that Earth were a part of the Allig communication network or at least had sent more books on Earth's culture to Unreligus but all the transports were kept busy supplying the eight star systems. Again she stretched to ease her aching shoulders as she watched her two young brothers walk away from each other. She kept her eyes away from her parents who were observing the ritual from near the doorway.

She became aware of Kim and Jeff standing in different corners of the games room and ready to start the next stage of the ritual, she sighed and gathered her quiet thoughts, Dad kept me studying for so long I was starting to think that we would never celebrate the middle of the hot season. For as long as I can remember, when Unreligus was between the two suns we've performed this ritual. First Mum was the mirror tree and I was the Trayreligan. Now it's my turn to spread my arms to shelter Kim and Jeff from the worst of hot season weather.

Allison spread her arms out. Allowing her blond hair and bodyfur to flow about her as she pretended to be the mirrortree, which would keep hot rain from cooking those beneath it. Jeff saw her movement and took it as a signal to start reciting.

I'm going to do something a little differently with this sample and go for a little "show" rather than "tell" to illustrate how I'd handle Cecilia's questions 1 and 3. Rather than do edits, here's a quick rewrite that strives to keep the author's voice but streamlines the narrative, followed by notes and thoughts.

Allison sensed something was wrong all the way to the roots of her fur. She glanced at her parents, standing in the game room doorway and watching her younger brothers begin the ritual. Dad seemed calm, but why'd he had her studying Earth for half the hot season?

She stretched to ease the ache in her neck and shoulders from long hours at the study-link. Sunbeams from Orus, the lesser sun, played on the wooden floor. There were hours to go before bedtime, when Khylus rose. Bright screensaver fish swam on the children's study-link in another corner of the room.

Kim and Jeff walked back and forth near a wall, imitating the Trayreligan explorers who had become lost in space and landed on this planet, which they named Unreligus, in the cool season. The climate had been pleasant but, when Unreligus swung closer to the larger of the two suns, the weather turned lethal. Boiling rainstorms had killed several Trayreligans, and it was crucial for them to find shelter.

The boys walked to different corners of the game room, ready to start the next stage of the ritual. Allison spread her arms, allowing her blond hair and body fur to flow about her as she pretended to be a mirrortree that would keep hot rain from cooking those beneath it. The boys began reciting.

I've condensed and cut 533 words into 224 to pick up the pace yet, I hope, remained true to the author's intent. I felt there were too many informational "asides" that could be deferred, and there was a need to set the scene and get the reader involved with what was happening.

Some notes:

• I felt the scene needed a little more setting, thus the additions to the opening paragraph. And I still don't think there's quite enough of a picture being generated.
• The planet name "Unreligus" became "unreligious" in my mind…is the similarity intentional? If not, might want to change it, it could be distracting or create unwanted expectations.
• 3rd paragraph: seems illogical that the explorers would need to find shelter if they had space ships to get into. But it would make sense if they had had time enough for the population to outgrow the shelter of the ships.
• I moved the parents to the doorway at the opening of the scene -- it's a bit of a cheat to introduce them later.
• I think the ideal time to describe the parents (the mother is an Earth human) is in the opening. Thought-starter: Dad seemed calm, his brown fur unruffled -- but why'd he had her studying Earth for half the hot season? Mum's expression, easy to read in the furless face given her by pure Earth ancestry, was all motherly affection.
• Thoughts can be done with interior monologue rather than using italics.
• "Her eyes continued to travel across the room" -- nope, not unless they left her head. But her gaze can travel.
• Continuity problem: 3rd paragraph has her waiting for the boys to begin, yet the next paragraph has them "still walking" in imitation of the explorers in the ritual story. Seems contradictory. Also: having them walk "up and down" caused me to, on the first read, imagine them going up the wall and down it. That's why I changed it to back and forth.
• I cut the paragraph about the ambassador's reports to move to later in order to draw the reader more firmly into this interesting new world.
  

As for the remaining point, how to add tension: I think that, in science fiction, readers allow authors a little more time to set up and establish the world that they are visiting. I think Cecilia does a nice job of unobtrusively creating otherworldliness in her narrative. The opening paragraph, especially as revised, does promise trouble and creates some tension.

That said, and having read the rest of the chapter, which finishes the ritual and then has Allison giving her brothers lessons in telekinesis, does not reach a compelling (i.e "gotta read more") level of tension. There is no conflict, nor a promise of jeopardy that will directly affect Allison. I suspect that, were I to see more of Cecilia's manuscript, I'd find an action/peril-oriented scene that would be the opening hook needed. The rest of the material, I'm certain, can be woven in at other spots.

For what it's worth.

Ray

Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission.

© 2005 Ray Rhamey

First-person narrators: must they tell where, when, why?

Morgan writes:

When writing first person (past tense), is it necessary to explain at some point WHERE and WHEN the narrator is telling the story? Many first person stories are told by the narrator about a past event, but do not explain where or why the narrator is telling the story: he or she just is. In these cases, and specifically in mine, the tense is past, but the narration is supposed to be happening NOW. (Nelson DeMille uses first person this way.)

I ask as a result of comments on my work in a graduate fiction workshop class. Many of my fellow students indicated that they wanted to know WHEN and WHERE the narrator was telling the story from. I took the comments to indicate a problem with VOICE; if my narrator's voice were stronger, it wouldn't matter.

This question had never occurred to me, but it's a good one. I asked Morgan for the work that his classmates had critiqued, and I think I see the problem in his specific case. However, as a general answer, here are a couple of viable options, and the choice depends on the story.

1. You don't have to tell where, when, why if it isn't key to understanding a vital story element, i.e. theme, etc. If you truly want the reader to experience the character's "now," getting into where-when-why will distance the reader from the immediacy of the story and kill the effect you're looking for.

To cite an example from my own stuff, I've started a story blog that has a first-person narrator telling the story in the past tense. I never get into where-when-why but work to immerse you in the story immediately. In this kind of approach, I think the reader assumes that the narrator is telling the story from somewhere down the road but is still within the context of that story. The first paragraph from Death Sucks: On being a vampire kitty-cat:

Just after dark, death grabbed me by the ass. Literally. The moon was out, September breezes were cool and full of hints that fall was coming, and I was trotting over a mound of fresh earth, not an uncommon thing in a graveyard, my mind on a hot little Siamese over on 15th Street who was coming into heat. A hand shot up out of the dirt and grabbed my hind legs.

I'm hoping I have the reader "in the moment," and my task is to keep her there, weaving description and exposition into the action so the reader has no sense of "leaving" the story. At this point in the narrative, I don't think where-when-why is even close to entering the reader's mind, and I strive to keep it that way.

2. You might want to tell where, when, or why if the narrator's "present" situation is important but somehow separate from the story in the main narrative. A novel that comes to mind is The Lovely Bones, narrated by Susie. She starts the story from a point of having been murdered, and the place she tells the story from figures into the narrative in an important and necessary way.

As for Morgan's story, I think the questions from his classmates were provoked by a classic "new writer" tendency: too much backstory and too soon. I agree with agent Donald Maass: put it off as long as possible. Here are the first 300 words of Morgan's story:

I awoke staring up at the brown stains on the ceiling of my cell. Day after day it started and ended this way, my last sight a water-stain faintly resembling Ronald Reagan's profile. I used to scratch marks on the wall in an attempt to track the days and weeks, but I lost track after two hundred and twenty days.

Today was different, though. I hoped it would be the beginning of the end. Even the heavy sedatives they put into my food could not keep my heart from racing on this morning. After twelve years of faithful service, it finally came to this. Today was my sentencing.

I prayed for death by firing squad. It was my only path to peace. The world I once believed existed was a sham, a joke, a carnival ride of smoke and mirrors. There was nothing left for me here.

The tribunal had the right to bestow the maximum penalty and in my case I was positive they would. I had been convicted on all counts: causing a mutiny in the forces, disobeying a lawful command, striking a superior officer, and committing the offense of murder.

My thirty-second birthday just passed, but since they don't allow me to see a calendar or tell me even what day it is, I missed the exact date.

My name is Lieutenant Richard O'Connor. My dad was always proud of the rank I'd achieved; he'd only made Sergeant by my age. I commanded a platoon, the 10th Group Special Forces. I graduated West Pont at twenty-two, became a Green Beret at twenty-six. My first station was as a Specialist in Venezuela, part of the troop exchange we did there. I learned about jungle fighting and counter-insurgency, helping the Venezuelan army to suppress rebel fighters and drug cartels. I applied and was accepted as a paratrooper, made Corporal and then became an Army Ranger.

That last paragraph is the main problem, although the opening has little action in it to capture the reader and is dedicated to giving background info. Then the author slips totally into backstory, and it continues for a total of 458 words, 2 pages of manuscript. We're taken out of the story. Some of this necessary information could be woven into dialogue later. The writer's need right now is to bait the narrative hook with tasty happenings and then snap it home with conflict.

Morgan has succumbed to a writer's natural urge to fill in the reader on background so they will understand the character. That's necessary, of course, but the art lies in how you do it. As I see it, Morgan had a much better opening that began after what you've read.

My cell door rattled and I sat up. Colonel Nash, the military psychologist assigned to prevent suicidal urges, entered and closed the door. He smiled at me, his dark eyes warm. He was late sixties if I had to guess, a good thirty years older than me.

"Richard. How are you feeling today?" His voice was always calm and soothing.

"A little sedated." My food, as usual, had been loaded with tranks.

Nash smiled. "Always the comedian. You're not anxious about today's hearing?"

I shrugged. "What does it matter?"

"Are you still hoping for death?"

I didn't care to answer. The Colonel leaned against the sink and produced an unfiltered cigarette from his shirt pocket.

That's what I'd been waiting for. I took it, leaned forward as he struck a match from the cinderblock wall and lit me up. I sat back, savoring the smoke as it curled from my mouth.

Nash stared at me for a long moment. "What if I told you there was an alternative?"

"Life imprisonment?" I shook my head and blew smoke at him. "I prefer death."

"How about the chance to start over?"

"A new trial?"

He shook his head. "No.  A new life."

I laughed. "I see I'm not the only comedian in the room."

"There's a man I work for, General Abizair. He's searching for a volunteer to test a secret new procedure. In return, the volunteer will be given a new identity, a new chance on life." He studied me. "I thought of you."

"A new life, huh? Thanks, but I'll take death."

I think this opening is much more powerful. You're not wondering where-when-why because story questions are a-poppin' -- what did Richard do? Why does he want death? What's this new procedure that could save him? Note that I worked in the narrator's age by using a reference to the shrink -- this is an example of weaving character exposition into action by being firmly in the character's point of view. There's a little more scene-setting to be done right up front, but I think this could be a workable opening.

For what it's worth.

Ray

Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission.

© 2005 Ray Rhamey

You're invited to my high-wire act

About three weeks ago I started a story blog. I thought then that it would be interesting to keep quiet about it and keep my name off and let it grow on its own. I sneakily mentioned it once in a recent FtQ post on writing in the first person and put up a link, but that was all, other than a few emails to friends.

But there hasn't been much traffic. What's a story without readers? I was not so clever after all.

The story behind the story.

I was thinking about how much vampire stuff is out there these days, and that a fresh twist on vampire fiction would be impossible to come up with. Apparently my subconscious took that as a challenge and, a few days later, a notion eased into my mind.

Like a cat with a mouse, my mind played with the idea, batting it around, seeing what it would do. Then the character's voice appeared in my head, telling me his story. Ordinary people might take this as a schizophrenic episode but I, being a writer, thought it was a quite normal and welcome event.

Then the notion of creating the story online, one post at a time, popped up. With no real planning or forethought. Totally organic, turn the critter loose and see what happens. I do have a few notes and a concept, but no story has been laid out. So far.

I'd like your company on this journey into the unexplored, so you're invited to watch an organic writer grab his bootstraps and heave. Or perhaps it's a writer step out onto a high wire with no net in front of a world-wide audience. (Hmm, now it is starting to sound a little crazy. . .)

If an exercise in creating a first-person narrative interests you at all, please drop by Death Sucks: On being a vampire kitty-cat. Now, don't make a face at "vampire." This story may have something for everyone, including those who are not into the vampire thing. All I can tell you at this point is that it feels like it's going to be a send-up of the vampire legend, a vampire satire, if you will. Could be some fun will be had.

Can I pull it off? Well, that's the question each of us faces when we begin a manuscript. Only most of us have the good sense to do it in private.

But it's all a learning opportunity, for me for certain, and possibly for you, too. I'll be trying to put up one post a week, so stop in. If you like what you see, please put up a link and pass it on to fellow writers and readers.

Some things to think about/comment on…

• The character. Likeable? Interesting? Unique?  Not-so-unique? The voice?
• The narrative. Pace? Visualization? Putting you there?
• Storytelling: Story questions raised sufficiently? Tension?
• The writing: Clear? Evocative? "Sound" and feel?

And so on. So visit Death Sucks and let me hear from you. The blog isn't in the usual "latest post first" configuration; the story starts with the top entry.

For what it's worth.

Ray

Free edit in exchange for posting permission. You send a sample that you have questions about and of which you'd like an edit. I won't post it without your permission.

© 2005 Ray Rhamey