Post #190 October 28 2019

“Story Basics: Beginnings, Middles and Endings”

There’s an old saying about beginning at the beginning.  Often in my writing, I don’t do that.  I’ll begin right in the middle of the action.  But don’t forget the beginning.  If you drop a reader in the midst of some critical, page-turning action, you will have to bring the reader up to speed at some point. 

The website storysci.com says this: the beginning sets up the story.  The middle carries the story as our hero tries to achieve something important to him or prevent something bad from happening.  The ending pits the hero against his main adversary in one final contest and the hero either vanquishes his foe or fails magnificently. 

Recently I began writing a new science fiction short story called “Second Sun.’  Here’s my beginning paragraph…

Not everyone was happy about having a second Sun.  That’s why the Guardians sent me to Bernini in the first place.  Kisan Malakel, engineering inspector 1^st class for the Concordance.  I had an official job to do and that was to make sure everything aboard station Bernini was up to spec…the gas pulses streaming off Saturn’s atmosphere were coming in on schedule…the deflector controls were receiving and diverting the pulses properly into Jupiter’s atmosphere…the King of Planets was bulking up on schedule so the thing could be ignited on time…that all aspects of the Second Sun project were proceeding according to calculations.  Oh, I had a job all right.  But my real job was to sabotage the whole works, sabotage the deflector system, and get away before station Bernini was likely destroyed by an incoming pulse.

In my beginning, the ‘hero’ is a man named Malakel.  He’s come to do a job.  He briefly describes that job, then tells you that this is not his real job, that it’s a cover.  His real job is to destroy the very thing he’s come to inspect.

Right away, the reader is (I hope) intrigued. It’s not what you’d expect.  Moreover, the beginning paragraph drops you right into the middle of a potential conflict, for there are surely people who don’t want Malakel to destroy their station and will work to prevent it.  The beginning sets up the premise, hints at the conflict and leaves you wondering how it will all work out…all in the very first paragraph.  Plus, it’s just different enough to pique your interest.

It should go without saying that beginnings are critical to capturing a reader.  Just as in public speaking or teaching, both of which I do a lot of, the first few minutes are vital to setting the stage, establishing rapport with the audience and giving them some reason to keep listening.  You should do the same thing for your readers.

In the military, there’s an old axiom about training and how to make it work: (1) tell ‘em what you’re going to tell ‘em; (2) then tell ‘em; (3) then tell ‘em what you told ‘em.  A lot of this applies to storytelling as well, although point (3) applies to the repetition so essential to learning, but not so much in storytelling.  Point (3) is really the climax and resolution of a story, where the hero meets and defeats his adversary.  Storysci.com calls this “the promise of the premise.”

Human beings as readers and listeners of stories expect a story to have certain characteristics.  We just wired that way and it goes back thousands of years.  You deviate from the formula at your peril. 

In the same way, understanding why the scaffolding is constructed this way will give you a much stronger frame to hang your story on.  It’ll keep you on course to produce the best story you can and allow you to focus on the other elements of a good story, the next of which is Point #2 of Story Basics: Show, Don’t Tell.

We’ll look at this one in the next post to The Word Shed, which comes on November 4, 2019.

See you then.

Phil B.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Post #189 October 21 2019

“Story Basics We Often Forget”

With this post, I want to go back and remind ourselves of what we’re doing as writers.  The craft of storytelling is as old as man but just because it’s old doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be reminded of some essentials from time to time.  We don’t often think much about our skeletal frames unless something’s hurting, but your skeleton is what holds you up and the same is true for storytelling basics.  They hold up a story…or not, depending on how well you take care of them.

No matter if you are a writer, filmmaker, game master, or stand-up comedian, here are the top 10 most important basic points of storytelling you need to bring your story to life.

I’m indebted to the website Storysci.com for the following list:

1. Include a beginning, middle and end.

This occurs at every level. Just as a trilogy has three parts, so does an individual story have a beginning, middle and end. The same goes each and every scene within that story. How can you tell the difference between a beginning, middle and end? A beginning sets up the story. It’s a blueprint or road map to the rest of the plot. In a good story it won’t be obvious. The middle develops the story from the point of setup to the climax. It plays out the “promise of the premise” and shows how the new status quo introduced at the end of act one affects the world of the story. This takes us to the end. An ending centers around the obligatory confrontation between protagonist and antagonist. It concludes by answering all the questions raised in the story, even if the answers are new questions (aka, cliffhangers).

2. Show, don’t tell.

Instead of telling the audience that something is happening, show them by devoting screen time (or page time) to the illustration of these events. Telling (aka “summary”) is not very interesting in comparison to the audience experiencing the same thing. You don’t need to state what is going on directly. The audience will figure it out for themselves, and in so doing will create a stronger bond with the story than if you simply told the audience that it happened.

3. One word: Conflict.

Conflict is the natural result of one character’s desire intersecting an obstacle. Conflict increases proportionally to the amount that each side pushes back. It drives the story forward and keeps the audience interested. Without it, nothing in the plot would be worth mentioning because story without conflict is not story, it’s summary. 

4. Make your protagonist proactive, not reactive.

The more proactive your protagonist is, the more invested in him/her your audience will be. They will want what (s)he wants. A protagonist is proactive when (s)he is the one to take charge and initiate events that advance the plot. The opposite of this is a reactive protagonist who responds to events forced on him/her by the plot. A reactive protagonist will not only make the audience feel like something is missing in your story, but they will fail to build a personal connection with the protagonist as well.

5. Have a central core to your story.

Your story ultimately needs to be about something, and that something is the central through-line (also called the “spine”) around which everything in your story is based, especially the theme. The central core brings unity and order to all the elements of your story. For example, the film Love, Actually has a central spine about love, from which it thematically branches off into different types of love. Or the novel Catch-22 whose central core explores the concept of the same name in various circumstances.

6. Know what your story is about.

It doesn’t matter if your story is based around a character, plot or theme. At some point you will need to know what your story is about—not just at its core, but at every level—in order to weave a story around it. For example, on the surface your story may be about a father-son road trip and the hilarity that ensues, but underneath that veneer it’s actually about father-son relationships and an estranged parent bonding with his troublesome child while also exploring other related thematic material, such as what it means to be male in today’s society.

7. It is better to be simple and clear than complicated and ambiguous.

Simplicity creates clear understanding in the minds of the audience. They won’t view it as overly simplistic if it smoothly and adequately conveys your story. A common mistake storytellers use is to try and tell too much without spending enough “screen time” on each segment. Set aside the big picture to work on the simple steps needed to get there. Want to see this point in action? Pick up a copy of J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone.

8. Say as much as possible with as little as possible.

Convey maximum information using minimal text (story) to do it. Implicit over explicit. This requires the use of subtext: whereas text is what is said, subtext is what is not said. Without subtext, your story will be dull and shallow. Some subtext occurs naturally but very often you have to work at it. For examples, a brother and sister talking about their lives at college but not talking about the recent death of their father colors the scene very differently than if they were just catching up like old friends. It also tells us their emotional state—that they aren’t ready to confront the truth about their father’s death.

9. Get in late, get out early.

Start as late as possible in your scene or story to provide both audience interest and optimal conflict, and then end the scene as soon the conflict has run its course. This doesn’t mean truncating valuable exposition or foregoing a beginning, but it does mean opening where the vital information starts. And once the scene or story has said all there is that needs to be said, get out! Don’t hang around and dawdle or you will be diluting your story’s final punch. For example, the audience doesn’t need to witness an entire 4-hour board meeting. They only need to see the handful of minutes that count. In short: focus on where the action is happening.

10. Characters, characters, characters.

Even if you have a plot-driven story, your characters are what make a story really shine. A bland or passive protagonist makes for a boring story. Interesting and unique characters are memorable, if not timeless, even when relegated to smaller roles. Go the extra mile to give each character distinction, depth, and history. Consider writing character bios for each member of your cast and see if it gives you further insight into how to portray them.

In the coming posts, I will deal with each of these basics in turn.  When we’re done, we should have yet again a better grounding in what makes a story go.

The next post, covering a story’s beginning, middle and end, comes on October 28, 2019.

See you then.

Phil B.

 

Post #188 October 14 2019

“Story Themes”

Every work of fiction has some kind of theme.  The author may not know what it is and it may be muddled or it may be crystal clear and well thought out.  This post considers what themes are, why they’re important and what they mean to a hard-working writer on a day to day basis.

Wikipedia says this about themes: The most common contemporary understanding of theme is an idea or point that is central to a story, which can often be summed in a single word (for example, love, death, betrayal). Typical examples of themes of this type are conflict between the individual and society; coming of age; humans in conflict with technology; nostalgia; and the dangers of unchecked ambition.^] A theme may be exemplified by the actions, utterances, or thoughts of a character in a novel. An example of this would be the thematic idea of loneliness in John Steinbeck's Of Mice and Men, wherein many of the characters seem to be lonely.

I write a lot of science fiction.  Beyond what Wikipedia says above, there are certain continuing themes that are common to many sf stories and more or less unique to the genre.  Again, from Wikipedia, examples are first contact, time travel, AI and robotics, space war, alternate histories, parallel universes and so on.  I have often written stories with these themes and ideas and I still do.

To me, a story theme is what the story is about.  It’s the point of the story.  It’s why the author is writing this story.  Most themes should be able to be stated simply: unchecked ambition can lead to ruin…there are limits to everything but sometimes they should be pushed (a recent story of mine had this one)…what might an aging parent do for a loved child if time travel were available.

What does all this mean to the working writer on a daily basis?  I have several thoughts on this.

1. The theme of your story is like the spinal column in your body.  It supports everything and helps invigorate and gives meaning to what you’re doing.  Sometimes, I write down my theme as clearly and simply as I can and post it at my desk while writing a story.  This reminds why I’m doing the story. 
2. Ask yourself this: what’s the point of the story?  Why am I writing this?  What am I trying to get across to readers?  Every story has a theme, sometimes implicit and unsuspected but lurking in the background nonetheless.  Writers should be explicit about their themes, at least to themselves, to avoid writing scenes or whole chapters at cross-purposes.  This only confuses readers.  Recently, I’ve been reading an sf novel by a very well known and respected sf author.  The individual scenes are pretty well done but there’s no obvious story line, no obvious narrative being carried forward.  Let’s not confuse narrative or story line with theme.  However, I have the impression that the scenes are written in and of themselves without any thought as to how they support the narrative line.
3. Ask yourself this: does any one change or grow or learn anything during this story?  If your characters can be seen to change or grow as a result of what happens, your readers will be able to empathize better with them.  Your characters will be memorable.  Part of what I am talking about is being able to draw realistic characters and carry a strong narrative line, but theme is what informs all of this.  Theme is the framing and the characters are the drywall and the plumbing and wiring, to use a familiar analogy.  If you were a plumber without schematics, you might wind up running your piping in all kinds of directions.  That happens to stories without a strong theme as well.
    
   In future posts, I want to go back to basics.  Let’s explore how good storytellers carry their stories forward in engaging and memorable ways.  The basics of storytelling really haven’t changed in 10,000 years, from the time of Og and Grog around the campfire.  In fact, it’s no secret that real stories began as oral traditions. 
    
   Look for more on these critical basics in upcoming posts.
    
   The next post to The Word Shed comes on October 21, 2019.
    
   See you then.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Post #187 October 7 2019

“Editing and Flossing Part II: We Do It Because We Should”

Every day, I floss my teeth, like all real Americans.  Twice a day.  I don’t particularly like it but I do it.  The dentist says I should.  That’s how think about editing too.

Wikipedia says this about editing: Editing is the process of selecting and preparing written, visual, audible and film media used to convey information. The editing process can involve correction, condensation, organization, and many other modifications performed with an intention of producing a correct, consistent, accurate and complete work.

I’ve just finished Episode 11 of my Time Jumpers serial.  It’s 43 pages long.  Right after finishing the first draft, I do a thorough read-through.  Does it flow?  Does the story make sense?  Is it believable and consistent?  I take this read-through as a chance to correct awkward grammar, fix typos and misspellings (later I’ll run spellcheck) and generally find out if I have a decent story, with all the proper elements of a story…plot, characters, a problem for the characters, some complications, some kind of resolution in the end, etc. 

Let’s take what Wikipedia says and expand on correction, condensation and organization as major points in the editing process.

Correction

Everybody makes mistakes.  I know that’s hard to believe but it’s true.  Editing gives you the chance to find them and fix them before your readers do.  Nothing destroys the power of a story, the verisimilitude of a story, faster than an obvious factual error.  Typos and awkward grammar can be fixed easily enough.  But when you say Mars is a billion miles from Earth and it’s really only a hundred million miles away, plenty of readers will pounce on that and toss your book, assuming you haven’t taken the time to be a pro and find and fix obvious glitches.  It does not reflect well on your craftsmanship when your story reeks of mistakes.  We don’t build houses that way and we shouldn’t build stories that way either.

Condensation

To condense a story means a lot of things, mostly taking things out.  One of the practices that makes Time Jumpers possible as a serialized story of 20,000+-word episodes, uploaded to Smashwords every 4-5 weeks, is the fact that I freely copy and paste from other stories.  After the chop job, though, I have to smooth things out, condense down the paste job so it will fit my story size and smooth things out so the story flows, the plot makes sense, the story is adequately carried forward, the characters are consistent and believable, in other words, condensation and correction work together, like ham and eggs.  It’s a rare story that can’t stand some enlightened pruning.  For the last thirty years, I have spent much of my life as a professional technical writer.  This turns out to be good discipline for story-telling.  Tech writing is done mainly to instruct.  Story writing is done to tell a story.  But these two things are related.  Moreover, in tech writing, as in any good writing, use only the words needed and no more.  Be spare.  You don’t have to be Ernest Hemingway.  But try to tell the story with the minimum number of effective words.  I interpret condensation as a form of literary distillation, paring down my words to the most essential ones, pruning away all but the essence.  That’s what makes for effective writing, in any genre.

Organization

The editing process also involves organization.  In any story, things should happen and flow logically, for a reason.  Dick did this and then Jane did that.  For me, organization starts with a strong outline.  Outlines are the heart of my writing.  If I don’t have a good outline, I can’t tell a story.  But other authors are different.  Good editing involves understanding what makes a story tick.  Characters are motivated by certain things.  A problem hits them and their motivations drive them to react and deal with it a certain way, hopefully consistent with their nature.  The hard part is making this look natural and keeping the character’s responses both believable and consistent.  The really good storytellers have a way of using plot complications to cause a character to grow in their response, thereby revealing something we can all learn from.  Hey, maybe if that happened to me, I could do what he did.  It makes sense, it’s satisfying at some fundamental level.  Stories that do this are the memorable ones and organization (tightening the story up) is one key part of that. 

Obviously, there’s a lot more to editing than this but I like to keep my posts short and to the point…as we’ve just been discussing.   Corrected, condensed, organized…any writing will benefit from these.  Behind every successful writer is an effective editor and in this day of indie, self-publishing and e-books, those two are often the same person.

Next week’s post will come on October 14, 2019. 

See you then.

Phil B.