3 Ways to Add Depth to a Novel

By Jody Hedlund, @JodyHedlund

 I recently received an email from a young writer, Theresa, who asked this question:

“My books come out more like short stories (under a hundred pages) rather than full books. Are there any tips or tricks that you can share with me about further developing the story line and characters to make my books longer?”

Thanks for a great question, Theresa!

Most of my adult novels are approximately 100,000 words in length (over 300 pages). As I thought about what I do to reach that amount, I came up with three main things.

1. Give the external plot more than one type of literary conflict.

Most writers develop their plot around some kind of external conflict usually involving a “bad guy” (also known as an antagonist or Man vs. Man). That’s all well and good. But there are other ways to bring about additional conflict: Man vs. Society, Man vs. Nature, Man vs. Himself, Man vs. Technology. (Here’s a really great post that explains the “Big Five” types of literary conflict.)

I often try to have more than one of these types of conflict going throughout my physical plot. For example, my heroine in For Love & Honor is not only battling a creepy antagonist (Man vs. Man), but she’s also struggling against the community who thinks she’s a witch (Man vs. Society) as well as starvation and hardships from a castle siege (Man vs. Nature).

The more types of literary conflict we add to the physical plot, the more complex our story becomes.

2. Give your characters deep internal problems to work through.

Another way to add more layers to a story is by making our characters deeper, getting below their skin to the heart. We have to delve inside the real, raw, emotional issues and problems that our characters are going through.

A word of caution. This is more than just our characters expressing their reactions to the physical plot, which is important too. Of course they need to show and express appropriate feelings in regards to the antagonist.

However, an emotional plot is a bigger internal conflict that we weave throughout the entire story. This is usually a character flaw or problem like fear, pride, insecurity, etc. that is related to our character’s backstory.

For example, in For Love & Honor, the heroine is struggling with insecurity over a blemish that she’s been born with. This insecurity stems in part from her father’s rejection of her as a little girl for that blemish, which has made her feel bad about herself and believe that others will reject her too. Throughout the story, circumstances force the heroine to wrestle through this emotional issue. Her growth is part of her character arc—working through the insecurity and becoming a stronger person by the end of the story.

The more we intertwine this emotional plot with the physical, the fuller and richer our story will be and the better our readers connect with our characters.

3. Give the setting the respect it’s due.

Another way stories can lack depth is by overlooking setting and focusing too much on plot and characters.

Setting is hard to “get right.” Sometimes we err by not getting enough setting details, especially in our effort to develop a fast, page-turning plot. Sometimes we err by randomly tacking on setting details almost as an after-thought. And then sometimes, we even ramble on eloquently, but the purple prose usually only bores readers.

Instead, we want to give the setting the respect that it’s due and treat it as both part of the plot and as a character unto itself. To do so, we focus on descriptions and sensory details that relate to the moods and pace of the plot. When we do that, the setting comes alive, like another character that has needs and flaws and history that we can slowly and carefully develop.

When we view the setting as more than mere descriptions but as a living force within the story, then we’re usually able to add the appropriate details at the right times, keeping our readers grounded in the story but not overloading them.

My Summary: Obviously, there are lots of other ways to add substance to novels including varied subplots, additional character viewpoints, developing minor characters, creating more scenes, etc.

As we’re looking at increasing a novel’s length, we clearly don’t want to add more words just to reach an arbitrary word count goal. Rather we should make every word count for something.

What about YOU? How do you add depth to your stories? 

Now Available!

5 Reasons Your Plot Stalled

It's my privilege to host Janice Hardy here on my blog today. Janice is the author of several fantastic writing resources, including Planning Your Novel: Ideas and Structure, a series of self-guided workshops that help you turn your idea into a novel, and the just-released companion guide, the Planning Your Novel Workbook.

Today, Janice shares some insights on how our plots tend to stall. But she doesn’t just stop with common plot problems. She gives insightful tips and excellent questions we can ask to help us jump-start our stalled plots.

Join me in welcoming Janice to the blog!

********************************************************************************************************

5 Reasons Your Plot Stalled

By Janice Hardy 

The plot is the engine of the story, and like any engine, it can stall. In most cases, the plot simply runs out of fuel and once you refill the story tank, the plot drives forward again. It's just a matter of figuring out which fuel your particular engine needs.

Maybe you're missing the goal (the common unleaded fuel of the story world), or there are no stakes, or no character motivation. The wrong characters might be filling the tank, or the protagonist is making the wrong choices. Refill the tank with the right mixture, and you'll be back on the road in no time.

Plot mechanics are pretty straightforward, so when a plot stalls, it's usually due to a small number of reasons. Let's take a look at the most common ones.

1. You Forgot What the Goal of the Scene (or the Book) Was

The lack of a scene goal is the number-one reason plots stall. There’s nothing for the protagonist to do to drive the plot forward. She doesn't want anything, isn't trying to stop anything, she's just living her day or performing random tasks that aren't leading to anything.

In some cases, the problem is bigger and the novel itself is lacking the goal. This is common with premises novels, where the idea isn't formed enough to create a solid plot, so there's nothing external for the protagonist to do. For example, a romance where the goal is to "find love again" is too vague to plot. It's the specifics of how the protagonist finds love, and the choices she makes to act in ways to achieve that goal that create the plot--such as, take up a hobby to meet potential partners.

How to restart the plot: Look at your scene and determine what the protagonist wants, and the reason that scene is in the novel. If you're not sure, ask:

• What does your protagonist want in the scene?
• How does this goal advance the plot to the next scene?
• What must be done to resolve the core conflict of the novel?
• What are the key steps to resolving the core conflict?
• Does the stalled scene contain one of those steps? Should it?

2. The Outcome of the Scene Doesn’t Matter

A lack of stakes is the second-most common problem with stalled plots. The protagonist has things to do and problems to solve, but the outcomes don't matter and don't affect the bigger story at all. Solving the problem gains the protagonist nothing, and failing to solve the problem loses her nothing. If you cut the scene, the overall novel wouldn't change.

How to restart the plot: Make the protagonist's actions have consequences. Resolving that problem and achieving that goal should matter in some way. Success wins her something important, or prevents her from losing something she cares about. Unsure of the stakes? Ask:

• What will happen to the protagonist is she fails?
• What doesn't the protagonist want to see happen?
• How will this scene affect either the characters or the story?
• How does failure here make things worse for the protagonist or people she cares about?

3. The Protagonist Has No Reason to Act

Sometimes your characters take a joyride with no destination in mind. Sure, they're driving all over the story, seeing the sights, having a grand time, but there's no reason for them to be in that car. The protagonist is doing what she's told, but she has no personal reason to do it--she's just taking turns as you call them out to her. Without a reason to act (the character motivation), there's nothing driving the scene goal.

How to restart the plot: Give the protagonist personal reasons to take on those scene and story goals (the stakes can help here. Low or no stakes almost always accompanies a lack of motivation). Ask:

• Why is the protagonist acting?
• Is there a personal reason or is it because the plot says so?
• What makes the protagonist care in this scene?
• Who might be hurt if the protagonist doesn't act or makes the wrong decision?

4. The Wrong Character is Acting

Backseat drivers, right? They think they know the best route to take to get anywhere, but they end up shouting directions and getting everybody lost. If the wrong character is the one driving the scene, your plot can end up down a path the story wasn't supposed to go in. It might be a small side trip, or a major detour. It might even be the right direction, but the wrong character is driving, so when the plot gets there, the next leg of the journey goes the wrong way.

How to restart the plot: Make sure the characters driving the pivotal scenes moving the main plot forward are the ones who will be resolving the core conflict in the end. Other characters might drive for a short leg of the trip (say, a subplot or two), but the main plot is driven by the main characters. If you're not sure who's behind the wheel, ask:

• Is someone other than the protagonist making the decisions in the scene?
• Does the scene goal belong to someone other than the protagonist?
• Do the stakes apply to someone other than the protagonist?
• Would the scene be stronger or go in a better direction if a different character was driving it?

5. It’s Got the Wrong Directions

Plots rely on character choices to move forward, so if the protagonist makes the wrong choice, the plot can stall. If the choice is too easy or doesn't affect the story or characters at all, it's not adding fuel to the plot engine. Choices should make things harder for the protagonist, and create uncertainty about what comes next. They move the plot forward by giving the protagonist the next goal.

How to restart the plot: Look at moments when the protagonist makes a choice. If there's no conflict to making that choice, or the choice isn't hard, then the decision won't matter. If the choice is obvious (such as, press the button everyone lives, don't press it and they all die), it's not really a choice.

Choices create changes and if nothing changes, the plot can't move forward. If you're not sure, ask:

• Is the choice a real choice or one where the "right" choice is obvious?
• Does the choice offer options that all have potential problems and stakes?
• Are there consequences associated with the choice?
• Does anything change based on this choice?

A stalled plot is annoying, but it's possible to restart it with the right fuel. Before long you'll have that engine sputtering back to life.

Has a stalled plot ever left you stranded? How did you get it moving again?

Win a 10-Page Critique From Janice Hardy

Three Books. Three Months. Three Chances to Win.

To celebrate the release of Janice's newest writing books, she's going on a three-month blog tour--and each month, one lucky winner will receive a 10-page critique from her.

It's easy to enter. Simply leave a comment and enter the drawing via Rafflecopter. One entry per blog, but you can enter on every stop on the tour. At the end of each month, Janice will randomly choose a winner.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Janice Hardy is the award-winning author of The Healing Wars trilogy and the Foundations of Fiction series, including Planning Your Novel: Ideas and Structure, a self-guided workshop for planning or revising a novel, the companion Planning Your Novel Workbook, and the upcoming Revising Your Novel: First Draft to Finished Draft. She's also the founder of the writing site, Fiction University.

For more advice and helpful writing tips, visit her at www.fiction-university.com or @Janice_Hardy.

The Critical Importance of Crafting a Strong Opening

 By Jody Hedlund, @JodyHedlund

I admit. I always have a hard time figuring out my openings.

Even with the manuscript I’m currently working on, I labored long and hard to figure out the best spot to start my story. In fact, I’ve struggled to pick the perfect opener with each book I’ve written. And even after all my agonizing, I still don’t always nail my openings.

Finding the right opening isn’t anything writers should leave to chance. Sometimes the first page, even the first paragraph, is all the time readers will give us.

If we don’t grip readers with our story from the start, they’re likely to move on to something that will grab them. This is especially true in the online age with the ease of previewing the first chapter before making a commitment to buy a book.

I almost always read the first couple of paragraphs online before deciding to buy a book. I figure if the first page doesn’t capture my attention, then the rest of the book probably won’t either. Maybe that’s not true. But that’s the way most of us operate.

Yes, the struggle to find the perfect opening is normal for writers. Dare I go so far as to say if we’re not struggling with our openings, then we’re likely not giving it enough effort?

So what can we do to help us in our quest to craft a gripping first scene?

Here are three things to consider:

1. Find a life-changing DISTURBANCE.

Look for an incident that will push your character out of her comfortable life into a new problem or situation that will ultimately change her life. The disturbance is the start of something that won't leave her the same so that by the end of the book she's a different person in some way.

It’s kind of like our character is walking along a normal everyday path. But then we step in, hit them, and knock them onto a path that they didn’t expect, want, or choose.

It’s not always easy for us to locate the moment of disturbance, especially if we want that spot to be unique and fresh and not clichéd. We may have dig deeper, think harder, and really push ourselves to brainstorm for an event or happening that moves our character out of the ordinary and at the same time hooks our readers.

2. Start with immediate TENSION and CONFLICT.

Once we have an initial disturbance, then we need to plunge our characters into the heart of the action. We can’t spend time setting up the story and filling our readers in on how our characters got to where they’re at.

Instead we need to drop our characters onto the page into the middle of immediate conflict and assume the reader will catch on to what’s going on eventually. We can always go back and weave in important story details later if we need to clarify setting or backstory. But usually the reader figures out what’s happening without us having to spell it all out for them.

3. Use a PROLOGUE sparingly.

When I was first querying my debut book, The Preacher’s Bride, I had a prologue. It was an exciting prologue (I thought!). But it wasn’t really necessary for the story. Truthfully, it wasn’t until I cut the prologue that industry professionals started showing an interest in the book.

The lesson I learned was that most readers (including agents and editors) don’t want to wade through a prologue (which is often just an excuse to fit in backstory).

So I don’t write prologues anymore. I’m not saying they’re bad or wrong or unnecessary. But I think we should closely evaluate if one is necessary by asking ourselves a few questions: Can the information in my prologue be woven into the story at a later point? Is it essential to understanding the story? Will it truly hook readers into wanting to keep reading? (Because remember, we only have a page or two to grab them before they make a decision to either read further or move on.)

If I have a scene that needs to happen before the big disturbance moment, then I usually label it as Chapter One and treat it just like a regular chapter, giving it a strong opening hook, immediate conflict, and the same page-turning quality I would with any other chapter.

My final thoughts: When I finish my first draft, I always go back and re-evaluate my opening. Sometimes I end up rewriting part or even all of it because the hindsight of finishing the story gives me new or better ideas for a stronger opening.

What about YOU? Do you judge a book by its opening? How long do you read before setting aside a book?

8 Tips For Picking Meaningful Character Names

By Jody Hedlund, @JodyHedlund

How important are character names? Does it really matter what we choose? Or how we go about deciding?

Should we draw names out of hat? Or should we wait until exact names are revealed to us in a dream?

I’m slightly hesitant to give advice on how to pick character names. I can’t tell you how to name your characters anymore than I can tell you how to name your real-life children. I truly believe the naming process will be unique for each of us.

But . . . I do think there are some general principles we can employ when deciding on character names. Here are eight things I keep in mind when naming my characters:

1. Develop our character before finalizing the name.

I get to know as much about my character as possible before finalizing the name. As I develop the character’s personality, ethnicity, quirks, life-experiences, etc., I’m able to narrow down names that might match that person. For example, in The Doctor’s Lady, my heroine is a well-educated, pious lady from a wealthy family. I chose the name Priscilla because it has a more refined and elegant ring than a name like Mary or Betty.

2. Find names that match our setting and fit with the plot.

Once my character is starting to come to life, I also evaluate how that character fits within the plot and setting. In Unending Devotion, which is set in the lumber communities of central Michigan, I sorted through rural names, as well as logging era names. And I tried to think which ones would fit within the tone of the plot.

3. Use time-period appropriate names.

This is especially critical for historical writers. I generally pull up the list of the most popular names for the year or decade in which my character was born. I also look at lists of names in biographies and research books for the particular time period of my book. In the 1600’s, 29% of men were named John (that’s about 1 out of 3 men!) and 15% of women were named Elizabeth. Thus, in The Preacher’s Bride I felt almost obligated to name my main characters John and Elizabeth. Not really! But you get my point.

4. Use symbolism if possible.

While we can’t always attach symbolism to names, we can look for ways to give special meaning to some of the names we choose. In my WIP, I looked at the meaning of hero names before choosing one. Whether the reader ever realizes it or not, part of my hero’s character arc is about him learning to live up to his name—which means “strong as a wolf.”

5. Avoid picking names that readers will have a difficult time saying.

I get annoyed when I read character names I can’t pronounce—oddly-spelled or too-long names. This is even more frustrating when the name belongs to the main character and I have to read the “weird” name ten times per page. I suggest avoiding names (as fun and nice as they might be) that might trip up our readers. We should also limit the number of foreign names for the same reason.

6. Avoid having names that start with the same letter or sound.

I keep a running list of every character that crops up in my book—a sheet I can easily scan. I do my best to start each name with a different letter. I don’t want to have a John, Joseph, and Jacob all in the same book. Or a Polly and Molly. When names are too similar, we have to make our readers work harder to remember our characters. And our job as writers is to make the reading experience as smooth and pleasant as possible.

7. Remember, unique doesn’t always mean better.

Sometimes when names are too unique they can distract a reader from the story. I like unique last names, especially when they’re real (like Goodenough or Covenant). But often those kinds of names have a ring of disbelief. When I get too carried away, my editors send me back to the drawing board for a simpler name. I've noticed that middle grade and YA books can push the limits. For example, I'm reading The Water Horse by Dick King-Smith with my kids. The grouchy, complaining grandfather is aptly named Grumble.

8. Make sure our minor character names don’t overshadow our main characters.

It’s fun to find especially dark and sinister names for our antagonists. In The Doctor's Lady, one of the antagonists is named the Black Squire. He's rough trapper that wears a black eye patch. In Rebellious Heart, the bad guy is Lieutenant Wolfe. Yes, he's predatory like a wolf. He's hunting for smugglers and enjoys it just a tad too much. As we have fun shaping our minor characters, we have to make sure their names and personalities don't become more vibrant and alive than the main characters.

What about YOU? What annoys you most about character names? Do you have any advice or method for how to come up with the perfect name?

How to Balance Showing Versus Telling

By Jody Hedlund, @JodyHedlund

One thing I’ve noticed through critiquing and judging contests (and from personal experience), is that writers have a difficult time finding balance when it comes to showing versus telling. In fact, I’ve noticed two phases: over-telling and under-telling.

1. The over-telling phase:

In our first books, we usually over-explain just about everything in the story. We take an entire paragraph to describe our main character’s physical description in precise detail. We spend a page telling about her past and the events leading up to the current problem. We toss in lots of flowers and birds and rainbows and sunsets.

We think we’re eloquent and that our prose is other-worldly. We believe we’re creating complex characters and well-plotted novels with all the explaining we’re doing.

But then (either through feedback or personal growth) we realize how wordy we are.

Eventually, as we brush up on our writing skills, we begin to learn how to write by scenes. Thanks to television and movies, readers prefer to see a story as a series of immediate scenes. They no longer have a tolerance for the exhausting pages of description and explanation that characterizes so many books of the past.

So we as writers try to imitate what’s done on the big screen. In fact, many of us may even read screen-writing books (like Save the Cat) to help us tighten and hone our writing skills, until we trim and eliminate every unnecessary word possible. Eventually, we learn to show not tell.

And that’s when some writers enter the next phase:

2. The under-telling phase:

In our passion to avoid excess, we end up going to the opposite extreme with our stories, putting them under the microscope and eliminating every extra jot and tiddle.

Everyone seems to be instructing us to cut out or go lean on things like:

NARRATIVE SUMMARY: The narrator (usually the POV character) tells or summarizes events, the passing of time, or the getting from one setting to another.

EXPOSITION: Information that helps explain something about the plot, a character, or the story. This includes:

*Backstory: All of the story that happened prior to the opening of the book

*Background: The technical details that are important to the story

*Physical descriptions: Of characters, setting, emotions, and sensory details

INTERNAL MONOLOGUE: Going inside a character’s head and getting a glimpse of their thoughts and feelings.

EXTRA WORDAGE: Passive tense verbs, adverbs, “as” and “-ing” constructions, exclamation points, italics, etc.

Yes, we’re encouraged practically everywhere to ruthlessly delete the excess.

But in the process of eliminating we’re left with a dry, often emotionless story that is unable to engage the senses and emotions of the reader.

Renni Browne and Dave King in Self-Editing For Fiction Writers said this: "We have noticed since the first edition of this book came out that a lot of writers have taken our advice about showing and telling too much to heart. The result has sometimes been sterile writing, consisting mostly of bare-bones descriptions and dialogue.” (p. 133 Emphasis mine)

Essentially we under-tell (and mostly show) our stories. We’ve cut too much. We’ve made them too much like a television show.

And somewhere along the line we have to find a middle ground.

Learn to balance showing versus telling:

One of the beauties of fiction is that it can give us more depth than a movie. We can get inside the characters’ heads to experience what they're feeling and thinking in a way that’s just not possible on the screen.

So while the modern reader doesn’t want to be bogged down with too much detail, they do want a book, not a movie. We need to find ways to seamlessly weave in all of the summaries, exposition, and internal monologue, rather than leaving them out. We need to learn the right amount of each that works for us and our stories—not over-doing it, but getting enough into our stories in all the right spots.

As we grow as writers, we begin to learn more about ourselves, and we eventually come upon our unique VOICE (the story-telling cadence, sounds, and tone) and STYLE (a writer’s particular way of putting the story together).

When we get dressed, we all put on the basics—pants, shirt, shoes, socks, etc. But it’s amazing all of the unique combinations we can make when we add our own flare—colors, cuts, jewelry, belts, purses, etc.

Our stories are the same way. We need the basic structures of story-telling (the bare-bones), but we can’t stop there. We need to learn to dress up our stories with our own unique voice and style. Maybe we’ll add a bit more description than someone else, or more transitions, or whatever it is we like most about story-telling. When we add our own personal flare to our stories, they can begin to come to life.

Summary: Find a balance. Don't fall into the mistake of over-telling. But also, don't go to the opposite extreme of under-telling. Look for ways to make your book a book (not a movie), but a book that modern readers will enjoy.

How about YOU? Have you gone through either the over-telling or under-telling phase? What are some ways you've found a balance?

Ten Techniques for Getting Tension on Every Page

By Jody Hedlund, @JodyHedlund

Is it possible to keep our readers interested with every page they turn? Or will there be times in our stories when their attention will naturally lag?

I got an email from a writer who was concerned about this very thing. She said: "I know I'm interested in what I'm writing, but I want to make sure the reader is too. I don't want to describe everything so much that the reader gets bored with the story. Are there any ways to keep the story flowing and keep the reader's interest leading up to the intense scenes?"

I'm not sure about you, but I'd rather not take any chances in losing my readers' attention. There are too many other things clamoring for their time and energy. We don't want to give them any excuse to put our book down and not pick it back up again.

But is it realistic to think we can rivet our readers on Every. Single. Page?

On the one hand, we probably can't have shootings and bombings and chases in each scene. And our antagonist can't show up with a knife every time our character turns around. We would tire our readers with so much drama, and our story might start to feel over-the-top.

Maybe we can't have action every single second, but it IS possible to have tension on every page.

Here are some tension techniques I employ in my books:

1. Tension through smaller scale drama. When we start writing a scene, we can ask ourselves what would make this scene more interesting or add more conflict. Maybe we won't light fireworks, but we can find the sparklers to add some pizzazz to the scene through witty dialogue, growing attraction, conflict with minor characters, etc.

2. Tension through unanswered questions. It's all too tempting to explain every action and tell our readers exactly what's going on. We can stretch tension when we strategically leave questions or backstory unanswered so that our reader is wondering what happened in the past to shape current motivations and actions.

3. Tension through contrast. We can build up happiness, love, wealth or anything positive, but hint that something terrible is about to happen. Then when we take everything away from our characters and plunge them into despair, the contrast serves to create greater tension. The greater the joy, then the greater the sorrow when the joy is finally ripped away from our characters.

4. Tension through internal conflict. Maybe we can't have our external plot thread front and center with every scene, but we can use the "slower" scenes to highlight the internal or relational conflicts our character is facing. We can have our character agonizing over a decision, making wrong choices, or fighting inner demons. The internal battles can be just as powerful as the external.

5. Tension through hints of problems that are yet to come. We can also use the less dramatic scenes to set up the conflict that is ahead for our characters. Perhaps our characters can see the trouble coming. Perhaps they can't (and only our readers are privy). Whatever the case, we can start to make our readers anticipate a bigger future conflict so that they'll want to read further to get to that big show-down.

6. Tension through raising the stakes. We should look for ways to take more away from our character, make their choices more difficult, and/or increase what's at risk for them. We can let them have encounters with others or internal realizations that keep winding the noose tighter around their necks.

7. Tension through the ticking clock. Whether it's a looming deadline, a race against time, or even an effort to survive, when we weave in the ticking clock effect, our characters always have something hanging over their heads. The longer we can keep the clock ticking, the more the reader will be invested in the story to find out what happens.

8. Tension through mystery. Even if our story isn't a mystery or suspense, we can still weave in an element of mystery. For example in the opening scene of my novel, A Noble Groom, the heroine stumbles upon her husband who has clearly been murdered. I leave clues about the murderer, but keep the reader guessing for most of the book until finally revealing the culprit at the end.

9. Tension through micro-tension. In his book, The Fire in Fiction, Donald Maass describes micro-tension as the moment-by-moment tension that keeps the reader in a constant state of suspense over what will happen, not in the story but in the next few seconds. Maass explains that we can do this by infusing conflicting emotion into our dialogue, action, and exposition. It's the conflicting emotions that keep readers invested.

10. Tension through a subplot. If we have a subplot, we can use the lags in main plot to bring out the conflict that's developing within our subplot. We can alternate the problems we're highlighting so that we continually portray some kind of conflict on the stage of our story.

Do you think it's possible to put tension on every page? Has the lack of tension ever made you put down a book? 

6 Ways Authors Over-Dramatize

By Jody Hedlund, @JodyHedlund

As novelists we need to dramatize our writing. Fiction is NOT the same as boring real life. Fiction is larger than life. Think about friends or family who are especially good at retelling an ordinary event. They have the ability to make us hang on to every word or make us laugh louder. Those kinds of story-tellers usually embellish their stories or make them more intense or funnier than perhaps what really happened.

But that's what good story-telling is about–taking the ordinary and making it entertaining. Fiction writers spin words to make readers laugh, cry, gasp, smile, and bite their nails.

However, as I was recently listening to a novel through Audible, I realized that sometimes authors can OVER-dramatize. To the point of distraction. To the point that the writing quality begins to suffer.

As I listened to this particular book, I wrote down some of the ways I thought this author was over-doing it (and realized that sometimes I'm guilty of using some of these techniques too!). (Sidenote: That's why we authors should read voraciously! The reading helps us grow in our own writing abilities either by helping us pick up good techniques or see issues to avoid.)

Here are six ways we writers are sometimes guilty of going overboard in our dramatization:

1. Over-doing emotional reactions:

Over-dramatizing emotions can happen on two levels. The first is on a micro-level. This happens when we are continually slipping in phrases like "my heart swelled to the point of bursting" or "her stomach fluttered like a thousand butterflies." Not only are such usages cliché, which we want to avoid, but we want express deep emotions sparingly so that they don't lose their impact.

The second way we can over-do emotional reactions is on a macro-level. We can do that when we keep bringing up an emotional reaction during a scene or across multiple scenes. For example, in the book I was listening to, the main character had just lost her parents. Yes, that's sad. But for the first few chapters, the author kept having the character crying, sobbing, and used phrases like "tears poured down her cheeks." I didn't feel more sympathetic toward the character. Instead I started to get annoyed.

2. Over-doing descriptions:

Writers can over-describe by adding in setting details that have no purpose or giving too many details that read like a catalog description.

Another way writers can over-describe is by mentioning the same description too many times, like "he had beautiful hazel eyes" and a short while later refer to his "gleaming eyes had an effect on me."

Saying something once is usually enough, especially if in short succession. There may be points later in the story where we can refresh the reader on a description. But we have to be careful about continually describing the same things.

3. Over-doing a scene:

Over-writing a scene happens when we drag a scene on for too long. Usually we only need a play-by-play of a scene when we want each detail to count for something later in the book (for example we're foreshadowing). Otherwise, if our character is saying good-bye to her friends, we don't need to drag out the scene for too long, add in every detail, and have her think numerous times how bleak her life is going to be without her friends . We have to decide what are the most important and impactful moments to include and then stop there.

4. Over-doing action beats connected to dialogue:

We have to be wary of adding in too many action beats (the small motions or actions that come before or after dialogue). It's all too easy to have our characters smiling and grinning every few lines. Or sighing. Or rolling their eyes. Or having thudding hearts.

If we're running in to the trouble of having repetitive action beats, we may need to look for more unique and varied beats. Or we may not have enough going on in the scene around them to lend to a more natural outflow of the dialogue (so that we can limit our beats).

5. Over-doing repetitive words:

We all have pet words that begin to crop up too many times in our story words like "gaze" or "smirk" or "race." While self-editing, I usually do a search for my pet words and either cut some or replace them with synonyms. A good editor can also help us spot those.

In addition, we have to be careful about over-using less common words. For example, if we use "amble" several times in the same chapter or even across several chapters, the repetition will be more glaring to readers than if we over-used a common word like "walk."

6. Over-doing unanswered questions:

I'm a proponent of using unanswered questions as a plot technique. I think dangling those unanswered questions in front of readers is a great way to keep them turning the pages. However, we need to be careful about leaving too many questions for too long which will only begin to irritate the reader.

In a literal sense, I find it especially annoying when the character has questions and asks the people around her and they continue to make excuses for why they can't answer the questions. Such dragging out begins to feel like author intrusion especially when there's no good reason given why the person can't answer the questions.

On a deeper story level, an author can leave out information (hence placing questions in the reader's mind about what really happened). But again an author has to begin to satisfy the reader's curiosity, perhaps in stages, without leaving too much to the end. Or again the reader may become frustrated.

Those are just a few of the ways we can over-dramatize. Are there others that I missed? In what other ways have you seen authors go over-the-top?

Seven Dialogue Basics That Can Help Tighten Our Stories

 

By Jody Hedlund, @JodyHedlund

Whenever I critique manuscripts or judge for contests, I always pay particular attention dialogue techniques. Dialogue can say a lot about the skill and maturity level of a writer. In fact, really good dialogue can draw me into a story faster than anything else.

As I thought about the kinds of things I like to see in dialogue (and as a reminder to myself of how to write my own dialogue), I came up with seven dialogue basics. They’re NOT hard, fast rules, but more like good principles we can apply in order to tighten our stories.

1. Don’t over-address characters in the dialogue.

Over-addressing people makes dialog sound stilted.

“Mother, won’t you please pass me the salt.”

“Oh, thank you, Mother.”

“Mother, you’re such a dear. I just couldn’t live without you, Mother.”

We don’t constantly address people in real life. And in our dialogue we need to be careful with how often our characters use each other’s names. Sometimes I throw in a name for dramatic effect or so that I can clarify to whom the person is speaking. But usually during editing I eliminate most (not all!) the names within dialogue that aren’t absolutely needed.

2. Don’t forget to use contractions.

If we don’t use contractions, our dialogue begins to sound too formal and unrealistic. Yes, even historical writers need to use contractions. In fact, when I was writing the first draft of Luther and Katharina I tried to avoid using contractions that weren’t yet “invented." But later during editing, I changed them to contractions because it was difficult to read.

If we have a good reason for not using contractions (whether for historical accuracy, voice, or formality of certain classes), readers aren’t going to know or care. They’re only going to know it sounds awkward. Sometimes I might give a formal character one or two un-contracted word (like "cannot") as a tag, but then I try to use contractions for the rest of her speech.

3. Don’t have large paragraphs of monologues.

In real life, we usually don’t speak for ten sentences straight without stopping (unless we’re monopolizing a conversation!). We say a sentence or two, take a break, and let someone else have a turn. Dialogue in our books needs to stay succinct and our paragraphs short.

4. Don’t let dialogue monopolize other story elements.

This is often referred to as “talking heads” where two people converse back and forth with nothing but dialogue between them. In short bursts, this technique can work, especially in more tense, fast-paced scenes.

But most of the time we need to intersperse internal narration (the character’s thoughts and feelings) along with action beats and setting details that can bring the scene to life. I always like to have my characters acting out some aspect of the plot and talking at the same time. I try to intersperse important details amidst the talking so that my readers still feel grounded in the setting.

5. Don’t blatantly convey story information within dialogue.

I give myself the rule that I won’t intentionally use dialogue to convey story information (usually backstory). But if the information comes up organically during a conversation between characters, then I allow it. I also ask myself: Would my character really say this? Or is she saying it for the benefit of the reader? If so, then I need to look for ways to weave that information in elsewhere.

6. Don’t use dialogue tags unless necessary.

By dialogue tags I’m referring to words like: said, asked, repeated, shouted, whispered, etc.

We should always strive to make each character’s dialog sound unique. But there will still be plenty of times when we need to use tags, and the preferred mode is “character said” (in that order and with as simple a tag as possible). The reasoning for the simplicity is that it’s almost invisible in the story flow to the reader and therefore allows for a smoother read.

I often use an action beat before or after a line of dialogue to help clarify who’s speaking. But we don’t want to stick random action beats in either, having our characters scratching their heads, nodding, and sighing every few minutes just to identify their dialogue.

7. Don’t include chit-chat.

Our readers don’t need to know everything that happens to our characters in the course of the story. Yes, our characters will go to the bathroom at some point in the book. But unless it’s part of the plot we don’t need to include it. Right?

And the same is true of dialogue. Our readers don’t have to have a word-by-word replay of an entire conversation. In other words, we need to cut out the chit-chat, the fluff, and get right to the meat of what’s important to the plot.

I rarely have my characters greeting each other, answering yes or no to questions, or chatting about peripheral issues that aren’t absolutely necessary to the story.

Summary: As I mentioned above, none of these are strict rules that will cost you a publishing contract. If your story is well-told and riveting, agents and editors won’t be counting your dialogue tags or contractions.

But if we work at smoothing out the rough spots and tightening our prose, we make it all that much easier for others to fall in love with our stories.

What do you have the most trouble with when writing dialogue? Have I missed any “rules” that you think are important for modern writers to consider when writing dialogue?

How To Get Readers To Read Your Entire Series

By Jody Hedlund, @JodyHedlund

I rarely read an entire series. I've started countless first books in a series but never gone on to read the books that follow. Even with popular and exciting series, I usually have a hard time reading beyond the first book or two.

For example, I read The Selection and The Elite by Kiera Cass (which I liked), but didn't read the other two. I read The Maze Runner and The Scorch Trials by James Dashner. But I haven't felt compelled to read further. Even though I've read all the books in the Hunger Games trilogy, I only read the third one because I hate seeing a movie-adaptation without reading the book first.

I began to believe I just wasn't cut out to read series, that I'm more of a stand-alone kind of girl. But this summer, I've proven myself wrong. I landed upon a series that I'm devouring by Susan May Warren. I started the first book in the series, Take a Chance on Me, through Audible, and then quickly went on to read all the rest that are currently published.

I couldn't keep from wondering what it was about Warren's books that hooked me and kept me wanting to continue reading, especially with my inability to read series. Since series are hot right now and most authors are doing them (including me!), I reminded myself of a few key factors that may help inspire readers to keep reading further into a series (instead of stopping like I usually do):

1.Make future lead characters especially likable. Give readers a secondary character to root for, one that they can't wait to see brought to life and given a happily-ever-after. That minor character obviously can't overshadow the main characters, but he or she needs to be on stage and win the hearts of readers.

2. Consider having something that can tie all of the books together. In Warren's series, the large family and the setting run through all of the stories. Warren brings both to life so richly that you feel at home with the people and place. Because of that, you can't wait to return and see what will happen next.

3. Give each book in the series its own complex plot with a 3 Act Structure. I'm sure you've read books in a series that seem more like segments or scenes of one much longer book. The Ruby Red Series by Kirsten Gier was that way. All three books happen in a about a two week time span and each book simply continues the story where the last left off. While that can work, there's something more satisfying about books that have their own complex plot with a definite beginning, crisis, and resolution.

4. If main characters carry over into future books, make sure they're well developed. If readers don't fall in love with the hero and heroine in the first book, then they won't care enough about the characters to go on another adventure with them in future books.

5. Touch readers on an emotional level with each book. Draw them in so that they cry and laugh and care enough that they want to keep going. When we are able to bring readers into the story deeply, they gain a connection that makes them want to have that same emotional experience again, in the next book.

6. Keep the later books in the series simple. Sometimes authors try too hard to weave in information from previous books. When there are too many names, places, and events, readers may have a difficult time keeping everything straight. And all of that information starts to bog down the story.

7. Have smooth story-telling and smooth writing techniques. That's a given for all books. But it's even more important for a series. If readers are jarred by story-issues or awkward writing, they'll obviously think twice about picking up the next book in the series, even if they ended up liking the story.

What about YOU? What makes you move beyond book one to read the future books in a series?

4 Steps for Organizing Plot Ideas Into a Novel

By Jody Hedlund, @JodyHedlund

I recently finished brainstorming for a new book. I had lists of ideas, pages full of "what ifs," and beginning character sketches.

As I sat back and looked at all of my initial work, I did what I always do before I jump into the writing process. I spent some time organizing my ideas. I've found that doing a little organizing at the forefront can save me a lot of time later with rewriting.

Here are four ways I organize all of those initial brainstorms into a workable novel:

1. Establish Set Pieces.

The term set piece is a screenwriting term that means, “The big, audience pleasing scenes that deliver on the genre elements of the movie” (according to screenwriter Doug Eboch in his post Set Pieces Sell Scripts).

In fiction writing, set pieces are the unforgettable, major turning-points or events that happen in our book. So after I finish brainstorming plot ideas and developing my characters, I make a list of set pieces—the biggest and most critical events I want to include in my book.

I usually try to put them in the general order in which they’ll appear in the book—particularly into a basic 3-Act structure: a beginning with an inciting incident that pushes my character out of ordinary life; a middle crisis that works toward the black moment; then the final climax that eventually leads to resolution.

2. Develop a Three-Strand Conflict.

I give my stories three distinct strands of conflict. First, I look for an over-arching external conflict—a problem or obstacle that my character must face during the entire length of the novel, and it usually involves an antagonist of some kind.

Second, I give my characters internal conflicts—character weaknesses, flaws they must work through as the story progresses. Of course they won’t become perfect, but they need to grow in self-awareness.

And third, I develop relationship conflicts—tension and problems that will keep my main characters emotionally apart for the entire book (which is especially critical in a romance).

My goal is to have all three of my conflict strands relate to each other. The more intertwined they are, the better. It’s my job as the story unfolds to braid all of the strands together as smoothly as possible, until by the end, the reader can’t easily distinguish where one starts and one stops.

3. Jot Down a Short Chapter-by-Chapter Outline.

Once I have my set pieces organized and my three levels of conflicts outlined, then it’s easier for me to think of the overall frame work of where I need to go with the book. I generally determine approximately how many chapters I want and how many words per chapter. (Very roughly, mind you! It’s just a guide to help me stay somewhat on track!)

Then in my spiral notebook, I use my set pieces and three-strand conflict outline to make a few notes about what I hope to accomplish in each chapter—no more than a couple sentences.

4. Plan Scenes.

Over the years of writing, I’ve come to rely more and more upon the technique of writing by scenes. In fact, in most of my books, I cut from one scene to the next with very few transitional links.

As I’ve pondered why I like writing this way, I’ve realized that ultimately writing by scenes is one of the best ways to SHOW our story. We place our characters on the stage, have them act things out. When it’s over, we drop the curtain and open it again with the next scene. We’re continually showing the action of our story without having an intrusive narrator come out between acts and fill us in on what happens between times—as if we need to know every detail to be entertained.

Before I start the actual writing of each scene, I make notes on the scene including: Time/Date, Setting, POV (looking back to make sure I’m varying these well enough). Then I ask myself these questions: What is the goal of the scene? What am I trying to accomplish? How am I moving the plot forward?

Once I finish the outline of a scene, I write it (on my laptop). I try to end the scene with a Read-On-Prompt. After I’m done, I jot down my outline for my next scene in my notebook, write it, and repeat the process until the book is done. (Incidentally, the scene-by-scene outline later serves as a great tool for organizing rewrites.)

There you have it. That’s a quick overview of my process for organizing a novel.

What’s your process? Do you follow any of my steps? What else helps you in organizing all your plot ideas?

Spicing Up a Story With Similes & Metaphors

By Jody Hedlund, @JodyHedlund

Have you ever read a book that felt somewhat bland? Maybe it was a good plot with well-developed characters, but for some reason it just didn't grab you.

There may be many reasons why a book fails to "wow" us. But one reason might be a lack of originality, freshness, and color to our writing style. The writer's voice is missing a unique spiciness.

Obviously there are countless ways to add seasoning and flavor to our stories, but there are three easy-to-use spices: similes, metaphors, and personification.

Here are the simplified definitions:

Simile: Compares two unlike things using the words like or as.

Metaphor: Compares two unlike things NOT using the words like or as. Uses is or was.

Personification: Giving human qualities to non-human things (a specific type of metaphor)

I used all three of the spices in the opening paragraphs of Chapter 17 of my book, Unending Devotion:

"The stiff branches above Lily clattered like dry bones (simile) . . . In the blackness of the early morning, the pale light from the tavern windows illuminated the barren, gnarled limbs. They reached toward her like claws of a devilish monster. She had no doubt they would snatch her and devour her if they could (personification) . . . Every shadow, every dark moving shape was a demon (metaphor). She heard the flap of their thin translucent wings . . ."

As we think about using similes, metaphors, and personification to spice up our writing, here are several things to keep in mind:

1. A little spice can go a long way. Think about when you're making a pot of chili. You only need a little bit of chili pepper to make the soup hot. A tablespoon or two would be plenty as opposed to an entire cup.

And the same is true with our stories. One or two well-placed similes and metaphors can add just the right flavor to a chapter. But too many can overpower the rest of the story, drowning out all of the other delicious flavors.

Likewise, similes and metaphors that are too flamboyant or forced can also distract. In fact my editor has had me rework or cut some of my "unnatural" sounding similes when I try to add too many.

2. Avoid generic (clichéd) seasoning. If it sounds even remotely clichéd, then it probably is: "The stars winked at her" or "the sun smiled down on him" or "he was as happy as a lark." Obviously, we should strive to be as original as possible in our similes and metaphors and stay far away from anything thing that stinks of cliché.

I have the most difficulty with this when I'm using personification of emotions. It's all too easy to use the tried and true, "Her her heart swelled with love" or "worry trickled through him." It's much more challenging (but rewarding) to think of original ways to personify our characters' thoughts and feelings.

3. Different people require different spices. We want to try to stay true to our POV (point-of-view) character even when we're using similes and metaphors, similar to what we would try to do when crafting our dialogue and descriptions.

Never add similes and metaphors that wouldn't flow naturally from our characters. For example, in Unending Devotion, some of my hero's similes have to do with math, money, or lumbering, since those are the things that are important to him. I wouldn't have the hero comparing anything to flowers and rainbows and honey as a heroine might.

4. Use the spice to enhance the setting or mood. Since I write historicals, I sometimes put in similes or metaphors that bring out something unique to the historical setting. I look around the stage that's unfolding and find interesting things to spotlight, objects or historical tidbits that will enhance the scene.

Or I use similes and metaphors to help create the mood of a scene. In the example I quoted earlier from Unending Devotion, the heroine is about to embark on a dangerous rescue mission, attempting to free her lost sister who is enslaved in a brothel. Through strategic similes, metaphors, and description, I hoped to give the feeling of fear, impending doom, and danger.

What about you? Do you spice up your stories with similes, metaphors, and personification? What are some other tips or cautions you would issue in regard to using them?

5 Ways Writers Get Lazy

By Jody Hedlund, @JodyHedlund

I just finished writing my 20th full length novel! Yay! (Can you see me doing the happy dance?! ) Each and every novel is such a HUGE accomplishment, that it's hard to believe I've gone through the process 20 times.

However, the more books I complete, the more I’m realizing how difficult it is to keep producing fresh, vibrant stories. Not only does it take more work to keep the plots from being repetitious, but authors have to find new ways to describe the characters, romance, and even the settings.

Yes, writers are sometimes bound by genre constrictions. And yes, readers also expect a certain type of story when they pick up a trusted author's book. For example, my readers know they will get emotionally charged characters, a dangerous antagonist, lots of sizzling romance, and plenty of historical details that are woven into the story. If I neglected any one of my "trade marks," readers would wonder what happened.

However, expectations placed upon us by publishers, readers, or even our genre shouldn't hinder multi-published authors from striving to keep things new. When we reach a point of having written numerous books, we have to continually push deeper into the recesses of our minds to find original, creative, and fresh material for our stories. We have to dig around in the untouched areas of our imagination to bring out something new. And that digging requires a lot of effort.

Sometimes amidst the busyness of the writing life, we don’t always have the time and energy to go that extra mile. We’re working hard to keep up with deadlines or trying to get our books out in quick succession. Instead of shoveling deep and finding new treasures, we sift through the front lobe of our brains and rehash the old stuff—because it’s easier to stay there.

Here are five ways we can get lazy:

1. Using Cliches. Most of us know we need to avoid those well-known clichés. But the more books we write, the harder it gets to find original ways of saying things, and the clichés start to creep in. We have to remember if the phrase slips easily off our tongue, then it’s likely one we should avoid. I’ve found that I can reduce clichés by using more similes and metaphors—especially those that relate to my character’s interests or to the setting.

2. Telling of Emotions. Another major way writers get lazy is when we decide to tell how our character feels rather than showing it. We obviously can’t always show every little emotion and detail. Sometimes we have to name the emotion to clarify what’s going on. But when we’re tired and writing fast, we may find ourselves telling too many emotions rather than going to the hard work of showing them. We need to make sure that we’re mostly bringing our character’s feelings to life through dialog, actions, or internal narration.

3. Overusing Adjectives and Adverbs. I’m not an all-or-nothing gal. I still believe in adjectives and adverbs—if used in moderation, particularly when we can’t find a strong enough noun or verb to fit the situation. But . . . as with clichés and telling of emotions, it’s so much easier and quicker to tack on an adjective or adverb. Instead, we need to persevere to find a stronger, more telling word.

4. Camping on Pet Phrases. I always seem to land upon a pet word or phrase while writing my first draft. Thankfully, if I don’t catch the phrases myself, my editors alert me to the repetition. A simple search for the word can help me locate the trouble areas, and I’m able to delete some or find more creative ways to express that pet phrase. I also need to be careful of overusing phrases between books as well. That’s a little bit harder to catch.

5. Rehashing the Same Plot or Story. After we’ve written multiple books, we may begin to find that our stories start to sound the same, have similar threads, or even have characters that resemble one another. Perhaps we’ve even gotten tired of a favorite author because “all the stories are too much alike.” Yes, our voices will remain the same in all our books. But we can’t let our voice be an excuse for getting too comfortable with the same old, same old. We need to constantly be exploring new plot territory and searching for unique and fresh stories.

My Summary: Indeed the task before the modern writer is daunting. The bar continually rises. If we hope to keep our readers happy with each book we write, then we can’t afford to get lazy. We have to resist what comes easily to our minds, and instead be ever-exploring deeper into the creative labyrinths of our imaginations.

How about you? Have you ever gotten tired of an author because his or her books started to sound the same? What are some ways you attempt to keep things fresh in your books?

How to Keep Readers From Hating Your Characters

By Jody Hedlund, @JodyHedlund

One surefire way writers can garner negative reviews is by making one or more of their main characters unlikeable. In fact creating unlikeable heroes and heroines often exasperates, irritates, and frustrates readers more than anything else.

Readers are usually willing to forgive a plot that drags in certain points. They may forgive a too-quick ending or a flat antagonist or a few clichés. But they rarely will rave about a book if they don't like the characters.

This year I'm branching into writing historicals based on the lives of real people. If you've read any of my books, then you'll know I already do this to an extent. But with my Luther & Katharina book which releases in the fall, I'm delving into a fuller, richer look at historical couples with the hope of bringing to life women who've been overshadowed by their more popular husbands.

As we all know, real life people aren't always likeable. Martin Luther was one such man. While he did incredible things during dangerous times that changed the course of history, he was caustic, abrasive, and had bouts of melancholy.

There's nothing wrong with making our characters flawed and realistic. We want to portray humanity as it really is.

But . . . how can we do that without making our readers throw our books against the wall because they can't stand our characters? Readers simply don't want to spend hours with idiots, jerks, or even whining wallflowers. They have to spend time enough with idiots, jerks, and whining wallflowers in real life and want an escape from that when they pick up our books.

In essence readers want to find flawed BUT still loveable characters. People who make mistakes BUT still have qualities that rise above normalcy.

That's why they're called heroes and heroines, because they transcend the ordinary to be extraordinary.

That's why it's called fiction because although our stories embody real people in the real world, fiction takes reality one step further by ultimately portraying life as we would ideally like face it– fighting, striving, surviving, and then finally rising above the odds.

Such characters and stories inspire us to live better, be better, do better.

As I wrote the Luther & Katharina book I had to dig deep to bring out Luther's likeability. As I'm writing my second historical about an unlikeable guy, I've had to work even harder to find ways to make him likeable. I've had to balance the reality with the good man he is yet to become. It's been difficult but essential if I hope to create a story that readers will enjoy.

What are some ways we can make sure we're keeping our main characters likeable enough?

1. Give them noble traits that outshine the negative traits. Perhaps we’ve given a likeable quality to our main character. But the mounds of negative traits overshadow that one tiny likeable quality, drowning it out so that the reader can’t see it. We have to flip that around. Yes, show her flaws, but outshine the negative by giving her a trait(s) readers can admire (like a love for the downtrodden, self-sacrificing for others to the point of being willing to die for them, etc.).

2. Make sure the reader understands the cause of the flaws. One way to generate reader empathy for our character's flaw is make the negative trait a result of something that the character didn't choose to happen to her. For example, maybe she was abused or teased or rejected at some point in her life. When we share the history that drives the negative traits, readers will be more forgiving of the negativity.

3. Never give the character an unforgivable trait or action. We might have made our character likeable, but then she does something (or several things) that the reader finds unforgivable, completely unlikeable, and irredeemable. The event or action leaves a bad taste in the reader's mouth and often they’re unable to resume their fullest love of our character after that.

4. Make sure to bring out the likeable traits early enough. Sometimes we wait until too late in the story to bring out the likeability factor. We can’t have our character acting like a spoiled brat until the end when she finally changes. We need to have her acting, thinking, and behaving in heroic ways right from the start.

5. Let the reader inside the character's head. If the character is behaving in an unlikeable way, show the disconnect between her actions and their emotions. Get inside her head and play out her internal narration, letting the reader see that she doesn't want to be that way. A reader will be able to feel more sympathy when they realize the internal thoughts reflect that the character is really hurting or hiding something.

6. Make sure the reader can really relate to the character's flaws. Give her struggles that readers are also going through–fear, lack of self-worth, damaged pride, intimidation, need for control. If the reader can relate to the internal struggle, they're often more willing to forgive negative behaviors because they've been there and done that themselves.

7. Beware of making the character a helpless victim. No matter her past and no matter her current dangerous situation, modern readers want to see an inkling (or more!) of strength coming through in our heroine. She must have a spine which doesn't have to equate snark, sass, or spunk. Sometimes quiet strength is just as riveting.

My Summary: It’s often very difficult for us to see how we’re portraying our characters. We have an image in our minds. But what comes out on paper, what readers see, isn’t the whole picture we envisioned.

Ultimately, we should ask ourselves, “What can I do to ensure that my hero is truly a hero.” 

What about YOU? Have you ever made your characters unlikeable? Do you have any other advice on how to avoid falling into the unlikeable character trap?

3 Act Structure: How Building a Framework Helps Organize a Story

Jody Hedlund, @JodyHedlund

I received an email from a blog reader, Anna, asking for help with figuring out the framework of her story. She was struggling with how to handle diary entries (whether to use flashbacks or make them chronological), who to make the protagonist (mother, daughter, or both), which POV's to use (1st person for one and 3rd for another or something different), and a host of other questions.

Essentially I got the feeling from her that her story resembles a big 1000 piece puzzle dumped out on the table. And she doesn't really know how to piece it all together in the most meaningful way possible. Sure there are lots of different ways to go about organizing all the pieces–but what is the right way? Is there even a right way?

As I thought about Anna's struggle, I realized that one of the most helpful tools for organizing any story is the 3 Act Structure which has been used in classic writing and has also been adapted by modern screenwriters. Here's my summary of what the Acts contain:

I. Act 1: Big Set Up

• The character lives in her ordinary world, in the status quo, with limited awareness.

• The character has a call to adventure, the inciting incident, which is a situation that forces the character to see the world in a different way.

• The character has inner debates and reluctance but ultimately commits to the new goal.

II. Act 2: Middle Confrontation

• As the character begins her quest, obstacles arise that impede her progress.

• Further complications and higher stakes prevent the character from reaching her goal.

• Although the character fights back, challenges continue to push her toward a disaster or crisis.

III. Act 3: Resolution

• When the character reaches a climax or the black moment, she must make her final push to change, to defeat the inner and outer antagonists.

• During the "dark night of the soul" the character has her epiphany and inner transformation.

• The aftermath or the wrap-up of loose ends allows the character to lead to a new life with a new status quo.

I'm a firm believer in the 3 Act Story Structure. All of my books follow this. And most writing gurus preach it. There will be some variation in how each Act is structured, how long each one lasts, etc. But overall, most stories and films can be broken down into these elemental parts.

Essentailly, the 3 Acts form the outer boundary or the framework that hold everything else in the story together. Although pantsers and plotters each have different story-building methods, I suggest (especially for newer writers) putting together the framework first, just like putting the outer edge on a puzzle first.

Make a simple outline using the above steps. Such an outline helps us see the bigger scope of our story which then enables us to make smaller decisions about where to place items, what to include or not include, and what we might be missing to keep the plot moving forward.

Recently I've read a couple of books that weren't quite as traditional as what I'm accustomed to reading.

The first book was Code Name Verity, a YA book about two friends during World War II. One of the friends was a double agent captured by the Nazis and the second was a pilot for the RAF. The entire book was comprised of journal entries. The first half of the book was written as journal entries by one of the young woman and the second half by the other. There was a 3 Act Structure for both halves of the book, but interestingly also an overarching 3 Act Structure which tied both perspectives together.

Mr. Knightly by Katherine Reay is another book I read recently that was written more uniquely. It was told from the perspective of letters that the heroine wrote to an off-stage benefactor, Mr. Knightly. But again, even though the story was told through letters, the author still had a framework in place following the 3 Act Structure.

Two other books I've read that had non-traditional formats are: Orphan Train by Christina Kline and The Girl Who Came Home by Hazel Gaynor. Both books alternate between a present story and past happenings. For those who are attempting different ways of piecing stories together, I suggest reading a variety of books like the ones I've mentioned in order to see how other authors handle the interior pieces while still maintaining an overall plot structure.

Whether we write traditional stories or whether we embrace something more unique by using flashbacks, letters, diaries, or any other creative method, an overarching story structure keeps us on track with the most essential elements, but then also helps us figure out how to organize all of those other little details.

What about YOU? Have you considered using the 3 Act Structure? Do you think such structure is helpful, or does it impede your creativity?

7 Setting Basics That Can Bring a Story to Life

By Jody Hedlund, @JodyHedlund

I recently finished reading The Snow Child by Eowyn Ivey. While the story was fascinating and well-told, what captivated me the most were the setting details that the author wove in seamlessly. The Alaskan wilderness in the 1920's came alive to me in a magical way so that I felt like I was right there in that dark cabin eating moose steak and listening to the blizzard rattle the roof.

Setting is a critical aspect of story, but in critiquing and judging books, I find that it is often one of the most neglected or under-developed writing skills. It's usually something I have to work very consciously to incorporate into my own stories.

The fact is, writing setting is tricky. Sometimes we relay too much information, sometimes too little. Sometimes we share fluff instead of what's truly meaningful to the story.

As we look at ways that we can work at making the settings of our stories come alive, here are 7 basics that can help:

1. Refer to the setting more than once.

Most writers will remember to ground readers in the setting at the beginning of the scene. We often give at least a brief description of where our characters are at. But then as the scene progresses our characters often end up acting on a blank stage.

We have to remember throughout the scene to continue to keep our setting details alive for our readers by making subtle references. If our hero is sitting on the beach, we need to briefly describe the beach in the first few sentences of the scene, but then as the scene unfolds we can refer to the sound of the waves, or the squawk of the sea gull, or the stench of the seaweed. We need to keep hinting at the setting details throughout the scene, NOT just in the opening lines.

2. Use bite-size details.

Don’t dump large chunks of description in one place. Readers' eyes will usually skim a paragraph that is mostly or all description. We don’t want a large paragraph to sound like we took it straight from the Sears catalog. Instead we're better off dishing out details in bite-sizes which are more palatable and digestible for modern readers.

3. Weave description through the point-of-view character.

We should never randomly describe anything within our books. And of course we can’t describe everything. Rather, we need to be strategic in what we pick. One way to decide what deserves space on the page is to ask this question: What would THIS particular character notice? What would he see through his worldview, personality, past experiences, etc.?

For example, my hero isn’t going to notice that the color of my heroine’s dress resembles buttercups (unless he’s a florist). If he pays attention to the color at all, he’ll call it yellow. Now the heroine might notice the color AND the lace at the hem AND the embroidered collar, because she’s a woman and her dear grandmother lovingly sewed the dress for her.

4. Use description to set the mood.

Another way to pick what to describe is to decide what mood you want for the scene. If the mood is spooky, then you might point out the rancid odor of the decaying fish among the tangles of slimy seaweed. If it’s a happy scene you might describe the way the sunshine makes the sand sparkle like diamonds.

5. Pick items to describe that are important to the plot.

When I read a detailed description about one particular item, as a reader I like to think that "prop" is significant, that somehow it will come into play later in the book. Otherwise why would the writer spend so much time describing it?

Sometimes, as a literary technique, we can focus the camera lens more closely on the setting or a particular item when it’s important to the plot for purposes of symbolism, foreshadowing, or strategy. But we need to be careful not to lead our readers on with descriptions that don't matter.

6. Use all five senses to bring the setting to life.

Most writers can paint a vivid picture with words and SHOW a scene through the EYES of their character. But it takes much more work to add in smells, sounds, tastes, and textures. And it’s even harder to work in those ancillary senses without saying something like, “The room smelled like burnt coffee.” Instead we should strive to eliminate the actual sensory words and instead say something like, “The bitterness of the burnt coffee was so strong in the air she could almost drink it.”

While we can’t always avoid using the actual sensory word, the experience becomes stronger when we carefully select specific words that can evoke our readers’ sensory memories.

7. Be as specific as possible.

We can add authenticity (especially historical writers) when we are as precise as possible with what we’re naming and describing within our settings. We can say, “The drunkard had a cup of beer” or we can say, “The drunkard swigged a tankard of ale.”

The more we can specifically name details—whether particular kind of car, flower, tree, book, etc—then the more the more vivid the story becomes in our readers’ minds.

What did I miss? What else do you think is important when describing settings? Which of the above points do you struggle with the most?