Author: Ramona DeFelice Long

How To Write a World Changer

by Ramona DeFelice Long

What is a World Changer?

A World Changer is a phrase or sentence that alters the reader’s perception of the story world.

When a writer begins a story, he introduces the reader to the world of the story. That world can be today’s reality; it can be a specific, faraway place in the past; it can be today’s world with magical or supernatural elements; it can be the future; it can be a new and fantastical creation; it can be today’s world with an unexpected element.

It is the writer’s duty to reveal the rules of the story world. A World Change happens when a twist or revelation exposes the reader to a  specific, unusual aspect of the story world. A shift in what the reader thought they knew about the story world is the result.

Here’s an example:

Harvey stopped at the edge of the field and listened for Mama and Pa. After a moment, their voices lifted over the freshly plowed field. Harvey slouched against the fence post. They were arguing, again. He couldn’t stand it anymore. He turned around and ran toward the tree line.

What does this tell you about this story world?  Harvey is a child who lives on or near a farm. His parents argue, a lot. This bothers him. Now see what happens in the next line:

Harvey ran over and between the clumps of dirt thrown up by the plow, his quills bouncing as he picked up speed.

Quills? Harvey has quills? Okay, so now we know Harvey is an animal. A porcupine?  Hedgehog?

He ran toward the bushes beneath the trees and dove into his favorite dugout to hide. He rolled into a ball and tried not to cry. 

Chances are, we’d know from illustrations or cover copy that Harvey is a hedgehog. Without these aids, however, Harvey sounds like any child who gets upset by his parents’ arguments. He just happens to be a hedgehog child. Quills or no quills, his emotions are real.

Now consider this:

After a little while, Harvey unfurled himself and shook off the dirt from his spines. It was almost dark and tonight was The Coronation.

Say what?

He reminded himself of his duty as prince. No matter how much his parents argued, he had to be present–and presentable–when the responsibility of the kingdom was placed upon him.

Oh. So Harvey is a hedgehog, and a prince, so his parents must be the royal family.

This is a somewhat absurd example but you get the point. With each sentence, we learn a new detail about Harvey that alters what we think we know about the world of this story.

Here’s something different:

Jacqueline walked along the boardwalk, wondering if she should touch up her sunblock. Her shoulders felt tender and hot. She glanced around the crowd, stopping at a handsome blond guy with no shirt leaning against the beach fence. He was licking a chocolate ice cream cone. Slowly. For a moment, Jacqueline swayed, imagining his cool, chocolate flavored tongue licking her hot shoulder. 

“Hey!”

The voice cried out a micro-second before a woman slammed into Jacqueline’s side. The woman grabbed onto Jacqueline’s arm for balance, and Jacqueline gasped. Violent images shot through her brain—a pipe crashing down from overhead, over and over.

She pulled away, her arm as hot as if she’d stuck it in a bonfire.

“I’m so sorry,” the woman said, but Jacqueline could only nod mutely and wince at the scars running from the woman’s hairline to her temple, where the pipe had come down.

Jacqueline is a woman at the beach on a hot day, made hotter by her quick fantasy about a handsome guy. But the world changes when a strange woman crashes into her and Jacqueline gets hit with a scene from this stranger’s past. Now we’ve learned Jacqueline is an empath, a person able to feel another person’s emotions or experiences through physical contact.

Now, what if their quick encounter had ended this way?

“I’m so sorry,” the woman said, but Jacqueline could only nod mutely and stare at the woman’s head. No scars. No bruises. It hadn’t happened–yet.

Now we know a new rule of the story world: Jacqueline can see the future. This is a character skill Stephen King used so effectively in The Dead Zone.

A final example, to show how a World Change can be used in a contemporary story that doesn’t include quills or special powers. This is from Catering to Nobody, the first in Diane Mott Davidson’s Goldy Schulz mystery series. Book one opens with Goldy in the kitchen. We learn through narrative she has a jerk of an ex-husband, her new catering business is struggling to stay afloat,and she has a best friend who calls to complain–humorously–about this, that and the other. In the world of mystery  novels, the response to those three story elements might be, well, who doesn’t? And then comes this line:

I looked down at my right thumb, which still would not bend properly after John Richard had broken it in three places with a hammer.

Ah. This is different. We just learned Goldy was an abused wife. The jerky ex, the struggle to be independent, the reliance on a good friend–all of those details got kicked up a notch with that world changing line.

How do you write an effective World Changer?

1. Weave it into the narrative in an organic fashion. That means show, not tell, in a live scene.

2. Do it boldly. Harvey’s quills bounced as he ran. Don’t over explain, “As a hedgehog, Harvey had quills. They bounced as he ran.” No. Keep it quick and dirty: Harvey’s quills bounced as he ran.

3. Sprinkle changes in to give readers time to process. First we see Jacqueline get hit with the violent images. There is a break as she pulls away and the woman apologizes. Then we learn something new, that Jacqueline sees the past (or the future). That little break gave the reader time to digest one new story element before being tossed another one.

4. Make sure the World Change does its purpose in exposing or refining the unique aspects of the story world and is important to the story. If you are writing a World Change because it’s fun but it doesn’t affect the plot or the character, why are you making me work harder to learn something I don’t need to know? Don’t toy with your readers.

Have you changed your story world today?

Ramona

Tomorrow’s topic: How to Avoid Overpopulation

 

How To Write an Episodic Story

by Ramona DeFelice Long

What is an Episodic Story?

An episodic story is one told via a series of interconnected scenes, with a theme instead of a question driving the narrative.

A story told in a typical dramatic structure features a clearly drawn plot. The plot begins with an inciting incident. From there, a protagonist recognizes a story problem, embraces it, and spends the story seeking a solution to that problem.

In contrast, an episodic story is more like a journey. It can be a physical journey; a journey of emotional growth; a journey to bond a group.

In an episodic story, there is a lesser sense of cause and effect–no inciting incident that demands resolution. Instead, a character seeks to fulfill a desire, to discover meaning, or to reach enlightenment.

Some familiar examples of episodic stories are:

~ JD  Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye, a coming of age story wherein Holden relates to the reader events from a year ago. The episodes are brief: he goes from Pencey Prep, to a hotel in NYC, to his parents’ apartment. The incidents are tied together only by Holden, as he heads toward a mental collapse.

~ Larry McMurtry’s western, Lonesome Dove, features a group of retired Texas Rangers on a cattle drive. There is no story question such as “Who shot the sheriff?” within the story, but there is a story goal: to drive a herd of cows from Lonesome Dove, Texas to Montana and open the first cattle ranch in that territory. There are multiple characters on the cattle drive, with individual reasons for taking the journey.

~ Evan S. Connell’s two novels, Mr. Bridge and Mrs. Bridge, are episodic stories about the same family, one told from the husband’s point of view, the other from Mrs. Bridge’s point of view.  Set in the 1930-40s in Kansas City, Missouri, the novels are structured through short, almost vignette-like scenes. In Mr. Bridge, the central idea is a honorable family man’s frustration as his children balk at his conservative ideals. Mrs. Bridge’s episodes are tied together by her desire to keep the facade of a perfect, peaceful family despite her children’s rebellion and her husband’s emotional distance.

Some other examples of stories told in an episodic style:

~ Huckleberry Finn by Mark Twain

~ Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut

~ Don Quixote  by Miguel Cervantes

~ Candide by Voltaire

~The Corrections by Jonathon Franzen

~ The Reivers by William Faulkner

~ On the Road by Jack Kerouac

As with the typical dramatic structure of inciting incident + story problem + climax + resolution, an episodic structure follows a few basic rules:

1. There is one or a few dynamic characters whose needs and desires are paramount to the story’s goal.

2. A unifying element runs through all of the scenes.

3. Episodes may not be chronological, but there is an order. Part 1 may be in the present, part 2 in the past, part 3 in the deeper past, part 4 back in the present. Despite the lack of strict chronological order, there is a logical segue between episodes.

4. Episodes are not sparked by an event. Instead, they are related by theme.

5. There is a story goal instead of a story problem.

Episodic stories are sometimes compared to slides shows or music videos, in contrast to a story told in typical dramatic structure, which would be like a movie.

Have you read an episodic story that delighted, or frustrated you, as a reader? Are you trying to write one?

Ramona

Tomorrow’s topic: How to Write a World Changer

How To Use an Ellipsis Versus a Dash

by Ramona DeFelice Long

What is an ellipsis?

An ellipsis is a series of periods used to indicate a gap in a quotation, a pause in the middle of a sentence, or a thought that trails off at the end of a sentence.

What is a dash?

A dash is used to indicate an interruption in dialogue, to introduce a list of items, or to signal an explanation the writer wants to emphasize.

Ellipses and dashes are not interchangeable, but the misuse of either and both is common. A dash is a highlighter. An ellipsis takes the place of missing words.

Let’s move into show, not tell, now. Some examples of how to use an ellipsis:

~ To indicate a gap in a quotation:

“Ask not what your country can do…for your country.”

 

~ To indicate a pause in the middle of sentence:

I asked my country for help…but it said no.

 

~ To show a thought trailing off:

Sidney walked up to the organizer on his two healthy legs and volunteered. After all his country had done for him….

^^^Notice in this last example, there are four dots (periods) instead of three. An ellipsis is written as three periods. At the end of a sentence, a fourth period is added to show the end of the sentence.

 

Now let’s consider the use of dashes:

 

~ To indicate an interruption in dialogue.

“Come on, Sidney, join the cause. Remember, ask not what your country—“

“Okay, okay! If I sign the petition, will you quit imitating my mother?”

 

~ To introduce a list of items:

I stared out at the crush of people in the street and flashed back to my trip to Oklahoma–the freshly plowed fields, the red barn catching the sun, the cows clustered by the creek–and felt like I was on a different planet.

 

~ To emphasize a thought:

“Ask not what your country can do for you–ask what you can do for your country.”

Used properly, ellipses and dashes add variety to sentence structure and the pacing of the narrative.

Like any other style choice, using dashes and ellipses too often can jumble up the writing and make it less effective.

Overusing ellipses can make a character sound like a hem-and-haw addict. It’s frustrating to converse with someone who never completes a thought. The same applies to reading a character who too often lets his mind wander.

Too many dashes is disruptive to the narrative flow and  defeats the purpose if that purpose is to highlight a thought. By emphasizing too many thoughts, the emphasis gets diluted.

Are you a dash addict? Do your characters peter off their thoughts all the time, sometimes, or only once in a while? Do you understand the difference between 3 dots and 4 now?

Ramona

Tomorrow’s  topic: How To Write an Episodic Story

How To Follow Up a Writers Conference

by Ramona DeFelice Long

Writers conferences come in many shapes and sizes, but after a good one, a writer walks away with a slew of notes, a bundle of new contacts, and a host of opportunities. Here are five things to do ASAP after a writers conference.

1 ~ Express appreciation: Conferences don’t present themselves and few (if any?) conference chairs are salaried positions. This year’s conference chair donated a hefty portion of his/her life planning, booking, organizing, and troubleshooting an event that involves the care, feeding, and teaching of hundreds of people. A written note, an email, a Facebook post, a tweet, a box of chocolates—the medium doesn’t matter, just send a thumbs up to the folks who brought the whole shebang together. Everyone from the conference chair to the hotel guy who set out the chairs, put on a team effort.

Equally, if you had a legitimate issue, or a helpful suggestion for next year, wait a few days and then send a polite note to the person you believe can take care of it. No need to alert the world, or bother someone over something they can’t control, but if an issue is real, the organizer will want to know.

2 ~ Keep in touch: There are a couple of ways to do this. First, all those business cards you picked up from the freebie table, a workshop, or at lunch? Spread them out on your desk.

If you’d like to continue or develop a meaningful exchange with someone, this is the time to send out a Facebook friend request, to follow on Twitter or any other social media you use. If you want to stay in touch through email, send out a note saying so. A handwritten note by post is also lovely. However you reach out, do it now.

If you shared a fabulous dinner, if someone helped out in a workshop, if you have mutual friends or writing contacts, if you spoke about their writing—jot it down on the back of the card. When you’re done, rubber band them and write the name of the conference and year. If you plan to attend next year, dig out this bundle before the conference and refresh your memory. Reviewing last year’s business cards helps you recall your good time, and people like to know they’ve been remembered. There’s nothing wrong with using a memory aid.

3 ~ Tame the paper collection. You probably have pages of scribbles and handouts. Now that your desk is cleared of business cards, cover it again with notes and handouts.

For handouts, those you took to be polite but won’t ever use? Toss ’em. No one will know. Those you want to keep, put in a file folder, binder or whatever means you use to store craft materials. Please DO NOT make copies and/or post on your blog, hand out to your critique partners, or distribute handouts unless you have permission from the workshop leader. Free distribution of the handouts, without permission, is not okay. If you want to to share with a particular group for a particular reason, send a note to the person who put together the handout. I would always say yes to sharing with a small critique group. For redistribution on a larger scale, I might say yes provided I am given credit and my name remains on the handout.

For your notepad covered with advice, tips, what to do and what not to do, quotes, names, books you should read….The longer you wait, the harder it will be to read your sloppy handwriting. Decipher it now.

4 ~ Respond to the professionals: Did you attend a kickass workshop on query writing? Listen to someone teach you how to organize your writing day? Take part in a read & critique? Get inspired by a keynote speech? Send an email expressing what helped or what you enjoyed. Be specific. As a workshop leader, I can tell you it is meaningful and helpful when someone writes and says, I really was intrigued by your tips on how to end a chapter. That tells me, hey, that worked! I need to know that for the future, and I appreciate anyone who takes the trouble to help me.

5 ~ Send requested partials, full manuscripts and so on, if requested  by an agent or editor. If you had a successful pitch session or chatted with an agent who asked to see something from you….well, I probably don’t need to put out a reminder on this one, do I?

Ramona

Tomorrow’s Topic – How To Use an Ellipsis Versus a Dash

How To Give a Public Reading

by Ramona DeFelice Long

Because I am away at a conference today, I am going to cheat and repost a guest blog I wrote for the Sisters in Crime National website.

It’s a two-part series on How to Give a Public Reading.

Part 1 is called  Four Tips for the Performance Author

Part 2 is called Four Tips for the Performance Author, part 2.

All you need now is an audience or an open mic!

Ramona

Tomorrow’s topic: Sunday is a day of rest. Monday’s topic will be How To Follow Up a Conference.

How To Write an Artist Statement

by Ramona DeFelice Long

What is an Artist Statement?

 An Artist Statement is a group of “I sentences” that explain your artistic hopes, dreams, ambitions, philosophy, direction, growth, and evolution. If part of an application for a fellowship or grant, the Artist Statement will demonstrate how the award would patently help you reach your artistic goals.

Artist Statements are meant to inform grant administrators and fellowship jurors what your hope is for this project, how you will be affected by working on the project, and how the support of the grant will help you toward those ends.

What is an Artist Statement not?

~ It is not a resume or CV

~ It is not a list of published words

~ It is not a list of awards, honors, or degrees

~ It is not your personal background

~ It is not a project description.

If it is not all of those things and can’t include those things, what does go into an Artist Statement?

First, understand the purpose. While not all grants are administered in the same way, in general, the granting agency (state division of the arts or arts council, or private foundation/organization) will employ a judge or judging panel to read and score the work samples. The Artist Statement is a document the granting agency uses to allow the artist to give voice to how the grant will help their career or work. It is also often used as a PR tool. This means, what goes into your Artist Statement is your vision of yourself as an artist—how you came to create art, what is means to your life, what you try to express via your work, how (if applicable) you see yourself as a member of the artistic community.

How do you put together an Artist Statement?

An Artist Statement for a specific purpose will probably have a limit. In the space/word count allotted, include some/all of the following:

….What is your philosophy as an artist, in relation to this particular project? For instance, if this is a family memoir, do you believe that art is a means of examining and exploring your personal history? Is it a way to heal, or celebrate? Is this work meant to be a tribute, to set the record straight, to capture for posterity events that have impacted you and yours?

….How will you grow as an artist through this project? Are you trying a new medium? A new voice? Fictionalizing reality? Creating an entirely new world? How is this project different from your prior work?

….What message are you trying to convey?

….How is your work, and this project in particular, a reflection of you? If you are writing about a culture, are you tied to it? Is the project trying to satisfy a curiosity? Trying to recapture or examine something you have lost?

….What is your goal, specifically, for this work? Do you plan to complete a novel? Write X number of short stories?

….Stylistically, what is special about this project? Is this a departure for you? A new venture into an entirely new genre?

That’s a lot to cram into the small box on the grant app. What is comes down to is explaining what you want from this particular project, and how it fits into your goals as an artist. The Artist Statement is your way to make the grant people understand you. It gives you a chance to express your heart.

A perk to writing the Artist Statement is how it makes you think about the questions above. In your daily life as a writer, how often do you think, concretely, about your goals as an artist? Do you ever stop to recall just how you chose this medium, and how it has impacted your life?

The Artist Statement makes you examine yourself as an artist. Who are you? What do you want? What are you trying to say through your art?

It’s that simple.

How To Foreshadow

by Ramona DeFelice Long

What is foreshadowing?

Linguistically, fore + shadow means a shadow is thrown in front of what it is meant to cover. In fiction, foreshadowing is a device used to hint at what’s ahead in the story.

Foreshadowing may appear through setting; through characters’ thoughts or actions; through objects; or through symbolism.

Here are a few classic examples:

In Hamlet, the appearance of the ghost is not only a visitation from a murdered king seeking vengeance, the ghost foreshadows Hamlet’s own death.

In A Tale of Two Cities, Dickens announces a foreshadow: “It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.” The line illustrates some characters are enjoying an easy life while others are struggling. It also foreshadows that circumstances will be switched by the end of the story.

In Of Mice and Men, the title itself is a hint that Lennie’s  accidental killings of innocent animals early in the story precursor the inevitable death of a person at his hands.

What are some ways to inject foreshadowing into a story? What are some hints given by foreshadowing?

1. How setting can be used to foreshadow:

~ Woods or forests can hint that a character will face a battle with nature in the story;or a character will seek refuge from another man by hiding in the woods; or an unnatural danger lurks there but is hidden by natural growth.

~ A lake, pond or any body of water can mean someone will or has drowned; water can also be cleansing; a setting surrounded by water (island) can portray isolation, both physical and mental.

~ Cemeteries hint at death; cemeteries also hint at rebirth. In Michele Magorian’s Good Night, Mr. Tom, a refugee child is sent to the country during the London Blitz. Willie is terrified when he’s placed near a cemetery, but it foreshadows his future. His old life is about to die, and  a new–better–one begins.

~ On the flip side, a move from one type of place (a city) to another (the country) can hint the expectations of the move will not be met. A family who announces in chapter one they’re leaving the big city for the peace and safety of a bucolic small town is pretty well guaranteed to move next door to a serial killer.

~ Weather can be an indicator of the ominous: Storm clouds equal trouble brewing; a strong wind brings change; rain is a sign of slowly rising tension. And does anything good ever happen on a dark and stormy night?

2. How objects can be used to foreshadow:

~ The gun in the drawer, the sword on the wall, the knife on the counter predict a violent conflict. Whoever is near a weapon on the page, is probably going to need to pick it up and use it at some point in the story.

~ A valuable object such as a family heirloom appears in a story for a reason: it will be stolen; it will be lost; it will be eaten by the family dog; it will give a character strength during a climactic moment.

~ The appearance of a sick or dying animal hints at violence, illness or madness up ahead. In To Kill A Mockingbird, Atticus Finch’s shooting of the mad dog in the street was both symbolic and a foreshadow of what was ahead for Macon: it will be visited by madness and it will take a courageous man to end it.

~ The appearance of a traditional symbol–a crow for death, a snake for danger, a mockingbird for innocence–are omens. Omens foreshadow.

3. How interactions can be used to foreshadow:

~ A story that opens with a person being threatened or bullied foreshadows more of the same for that person; a person portrayed as a coward will have to show bravery at some point. Think Neville Longbottom.

~  If a stranger is walking along a road and a truck pulls up slowly and the two guys give the stranger the stink eye, guess who will be at the bar/diner/gas station up ahead, waiting to give the stranger an unwelcoming welcome to town?

~ In a mystery novel, if one character says to another, “I bought my plane ticket this morning, so I only have to survive three more days in this stinking town” he might have just sealed his fate of dying before those three days are up.

Foreshadowing is meant to subtly ramp up the dramatic tension in the story. It’s different from a red herring, which is meant to mislead a reader. Foreshadowing is truthful, but since it is subtle (we hope!)  it’s up to the careful reader to interpret the author’s clever inclusion of foreshadowing elements.

Do you use foreshadowing in your writing?

Ramona

Tomorrow’s topic: How to Write an Artist Statement

How To Avoid Talking Heads

by Ramona DeFelice Long

RamonaGravitarWhat are Talking Heads?

There are three definitions for the term Talking Heads.

First, there’s the cool indie band whose music is edgy and avant-garde.

Second are the commentators on 24 hour news/current events shows who blather on and on about…stuff.

The third type of Talking Heads are characters who converse without any accompanying action, setting, gestures, reactions, sensory details or interior thoughts.

What’s the problem with that? Aren’t lively conversations a plus in a work of fiction?

Yes. And no.

One effective way to engage a reader is to serve up interaction via conversation. Lively dialogue quickens the  pace. An authentic verbal exchange exposes information important to the story. Well-written dialogue is  entertaining while it moves the plot forward.

After all, who doesn’t enjoy a good dose of banter or a knock-down drag out argument?

In real life, conversations don’t happen in thin air. They shouldn’t exist so in fiction, either. Have you ever come across page after page of dialogue that looks like this?

~ “We’re talking, so this must be interesting to the reader, right, Angus?”

~ “Right, Sue Ellen. Dialogue is engaging. All my writing teachers say so.”

~ “But do you think it’s a little confusing there are no dialogue tags?”

~ “Dialogue tags? We don’t need no stinking dialogue tags.”

~ “Ha ha!”

~ “There you go, Sue Ellen, I made you laugh. All my writing teachers say humor is important.”

~ “True, but where are we? I can’t find a setting.”

~ “Setting?”

~ “I’m having trouble concentrating, too. Where are my interior thoughts?”

~ “Interior thoughts?”

~ “You’re being obtuse. I’d slap you or make a face, but I don’t seem to have a body. How is it we’re speaking but we don’t have  bodies?”

~ “Bodies?”

~ “Are you just going to repeat everything I say, just for the sake of banter?”

~ “Are you just going to repeat everything I say, just for the sake of banter?”

This an extreme, of course, but look at this conversation. We learn in lines one and two that the speakers are Angus and Sue Ellen. We learn that Angus has perhaps taken too many writing classes. But if you look outside the dialogue, what else can you learn about these two characters?

Nothing. Because nothing is there. Apparently, Sue Ellen and Angus are body-less beings who live in the aether.

As is, I’m listening to two beings who are floating around, speaking, but groundless. Unless a dialogue exchange is grounded in a physical place, and I can see the physical bodies doing the speaking, what we have on the page are two talking heads.

Now for a caveat:

Sometimes writers create conversation-driven stories. Hemingway’s “Hills Like  White Elephants” is an example. The bulk of the story is a verbal exchange between lovers.  However, the scene is set up in a place–a bar–before the dialogue begins. The two characters note the surroundings–the hills like white elephants–both directly and metaphorically. These two characters speak, but they  don’t indulge in blathering. The conversation is punctuated by what they do not say.

Additionally, Talking Heads are not to be confused with a story written entirely in dialogue, such as a monologue. For example, the narrator in Dorothy Parker’s “A Telephone Call” is a woman. That’s all we know. The only prop is a clock. The story is her dialogue of waiting for a man to call. While her desperation grows, she checks the ticks on the clock and bargains with God.

These examples fall under the first definition of Talking Heads. They’re indie band short stories. They’re edgy and take chances.

The example above is more like the second definition– commentators who exist in their own little worlds and blab on and on about…stuff.

How do you prevent a case of Talking Heads from taking over a scene in your story?

  1. Place the characters on a set—a city, a café, a mobile home, a field of daisies.
  2. Give them bodies and move those bodies around.
  3. Show reactions, physically and emotionally.
  4. Get inside the characters’ heads and hearts and share what’s inside.

Are your dialogue exchanges fully drawn with setting and senses, and bodies in motion?

Ramona

Tomorrow’s Topic: How to Foreshadow

How To Show, Not Tell

by Ramona DeFelice Long

What isRamonaGravitar Show, Not Tell?

Arguably the most common piece of writing advice offered, Show, Not Tell means an author writes action in live scenes rather than in summary or exposition.

What is a live scene?

A live scene depicts blow-by-blow action that happens on the page. The scene can take place in the present or in the past, but the representation of it–the writing–employs the movements, feelings, thoughts, senses and dialogue of and between characters.

In short, a live scene shows what happens, as it happens, rather than telling us what’s going on.

Is it ever okay to tell, not show? Yes!

For instance, if a live scene has been shown on the page, but one character needs to inform another about it, it’s okay to summarize or go to, “He told her what happened by the lake” rather than relay the entire conversation. We’ve seen the scene, so we don’ t need to read a recap.

Let’s look at some illustrative examples, from my pretend novel Bad Sale. Here’s the set-up:

Richard (the farmer who was tricked by a childhood friend into buying bomb making supplies at the hardware store) gets pulled over by police while driving home. The deputy says Richard failed to come to a complete stop at a stop sign.  Richard waits by the road while the deputy takes an inordinately long time to run his license. The deputy also asks Richard where he’s going, what’s in the box in the back of his truck, and if he has a permit for the shotgun in his gun rack. Richard is finally allowed to go with no citation issued, only a warning to drive more carefully.

(^This was all telling, by the way. On the page, it would be written dramatically.)

This is what happens next, in telling:

Richard walked into the kitchen. His wife Jillian was rolling meatballs for dinner. Richard was still unnerved by the long traffic stop. He started to tell Jillian what happened. At first she joked about him speeding, but when she saw his white face, she got upset and asked why the police would be bothering him. He said it had to be about the hardware store. After he said it, he stalked to the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. That shocked Jillian, too. Richard never drank in the middle of the day. She kept rolling meatballs, but she watched him drink and wondered if he was telling her the whole truth.

The above is a new development to the story: it advances the plot and presents a potential new conflict in tension between Richard and Jillian. But it is still telling. Do you see the kitchen? Do you see if Jillian shows her surprise? Do you know if Richard can tell she’s suspicious of his story? Do you feel what they feel, see what they see, hear what they hear?

Now let’s try showing:

Richard walked into the kitchen and threw his keys on the table. “You won’t believe what just happened,” he said. “I got pulled over by police.”

 “Why, were you speeding again?” Jillian asked. She glanced up from rolling meatballs and did a double take. “Good god, Richard, you’re white as a sheet. What happened?”

 “I wasn’t speeding. The deputy said I rolled through the stop sign on Green Street,” he said.

“Did you?” 

“I don’t know. Maybe,” he admitted. He told her about it taking forever to run his license and the questions the deputy asked about the shotgun and the box of baling twine. “Even if I did roll through the damn sign, that was way over the top. He kept me on the side of the road for half an hour.”

He opened the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. He yanked off the top and threw it into the sink.

“I know it was about the hardware store,” he said. “Again.”

He stood at the window, his back to her. Jillian watched from behind as he chug-a-lugged the beer. She squeezed the meatball in her hand until it began to ooze between her fingers.

Richard never drank during the day. He’d had a couple of speeding tickets, true,  but the county deputies didn’t go around harassing citizens–not that she’d ever heard of before.

“Richard,” she said. Paused. “Maybe you should tell me, again, about the hardware store.”

In the show sample, we see Richard is angry because of what he does: throws his keys on the table. Jillian notes his white face, but she also asks if he was speeding again. This reveals a little something about Richard’s driving habits. We see him use a mild expletive, drink a beer in the middle of the day, and turn his back on his wife. Each of these is evidence of his upset.

Likewise, Jillian reveals she knows her husband well enough that he might have rolled through the stop sign, but his white face is unusual, so we know he’s not usually rattled by a traffic stop.  She’s surprised the police give him a hard time because that’s not normal for the town–something else we learn. By watching her watch him, we also get to witness her come to the conclusion that maybe Richard’s not telling her everything about the hardware store.

Not only is showing more interesting than telling, it is also more revealing.

Now, remember the question if it’s ever okay to tell? Within the showing example, there are two spots of telling:

~ “Richard never drank during the day….”

This tells us information Jillian knows about Richard. It reveals her thoughts, but if she said, “Richard, you never drink during the day,” that would be awkward, as Jillian would be a Talking Head.

~“He told her about it taking forever to run his license….”

We just saw the scene. We don’t need an account of it from Richard’s mouth, unless he’d change the facts of the traffic stop when he tells his wife about it. That would not be showing, or telling. That would be lying.

Do you know how to recognize when you fall into telling?

Ramona

Tomorrow’s topic: How to Avoid Talking Heads

How To Write an Author Bio (short)

by Ramona DeFelice Long

What is an author bio?

Author bios tell about a writer, his work, his professional experience and/or personal background. Author bios can be short or long. One of the shortest is the author blurb, the two or three descriptive lines at the end of a published work. Blurbs run from twenty-five to fifty words. Writing a short blurb can be challenging. Authors create characters who are fascinating but find themselves dull in comparison.

How do you do describe yourself in fifty or so words? Start with some dry info:

~ what genre/s you write

~ where you’ve been published

~ your expertise in a professional area

~ your educational experience

~ your personal or professional connection to the piece

~ your motivation for writing this piece

~ your awards, honors, grants

~ your ethnic background

~ your home area, now and in the past

~  anything unusual about you or where you live

~ the number of cats you own

Some of those are more important than others. If you have no publishing credits, say nothing or announce it’s your first piece in print. If you have an impressive honor or award in your resume, that’s smart to include. If you write in different genres, that’s noteworthy, too.

Let’s say I’ve written a short story set in south Louisiana. Let’s say it’s an historical story. I’ve sold it to a magazine. Yay me! But how do I know what to include in my blurb?

1. For an historical magazine, I’d focus on my connection to the history included in the piece:

Ramona Long’s Acadian ancestors were expelled from Canada in the 1600s but went on to thrive in south Louisiana, where she grew up. Today, she lives in Delaware, but much of her fiction is rooted in the oral tradition of her Cajun upbringing.

2. For a literary journal, where I’d want to show evolution as a writer:

Ramona Long’s fiction has appeared in national and regional magazines. A native of south Louisiana, she earned an MFA at the University of Her Choosing, but her exploration of her ancestry through story has been supported by grants from the (names of agencies).

3. For a juvenile or general interest magazine, where I’d want to look unique:

Ramona Long grew up on a Louisiana cattle ranch surrounded by sugar cane fields and rumors of voodoo, so naturally she grew up to write spooky stories set in the past.

Each of the above examples had a particular tone and purpose.  To decide on the best approach for a blurb for a particular publication, first play copycat: How did other authors handle their blurbs? The publisher may prefer a particular style.

Next, decide what it is you’d like your audience to know about you, in terms of this piece of writing.  Do you want to impress or amuse? Tease, or touch on a serious topic?

Third, what do you do if you don’t have a connection to the story, an interesting cultural background, a list of awards, or any prior publications? Talk about yourself.

~ Susan Myers-Magee’s first story was published in her middle school newsletter and she’s been hooked on writing ever since.

~ Susan Myers-Magee’s second career as an author did not begin until she retired from the San Antonio school district after thirty years as a second grade teacher. Now instead of chasing children at recess, she chases fictional bad guys.

~ Susan Myers-Magee has been fascinated with space exploration since she and her brother climbed to the roof of their house in Florida to watch rockets launch. Now she lives in New England but still looks to the night sky for inspiration.

~ Susan Myers-Magee writes fiction and non-fiction for children and adults. This is her first story for XYZ magazine. She and her husband live on three acres of land in southern Maryland, in a log cabin they built from scratch.

~ Susan Myers-Magee served two tours in Afghanistan (or two terms in the Montana State Senate, or two years on the local school board, or two decades as a Texas Ranger) before turning to fiction for fun.

~Susan Myers-Magee holds advanced degrees in psychology and has worked as a dog therapist. She is a popular speaker and lecturer.

Here’s an exercise. Pretend you’ve written a short story or article. Pretend it holds a connection to your personal background. Now, try writing different blurbs for it. Make one humorous. Make one scholarly. Make one all-purpose. Keep practicing until it no longer feels like each one requires drawing blood. It gets easier with practice, I promise!

By the way, there is no Susan Myers-Magee. It’s a shame. She certainly has a lot of fodder for a bio.