Wordplay

From now until Christmas, both of my books are available at special prices and as part of special package deals. I’m also offering some early Christmas gifts of my own to the first three buyers. Scroll down for details!


Special Prices & Package Deals*


Behold the Dawn – $14.79 $12.00
Two books – $20
Five books – $40
Ten books – $70

Choose Quantity

One Book $12.00 Two books $20.00 Five books $40.00 Ten books $70.00

A Man Called Outlaw – $14.79 $12.00
Two books – $20
Five books – $45
Ten books – $90

Choose Quantity

One Book $12.00 Two books $20.00 Five books $45.00 Ten books $90.00

Behold the Dawn / A Man Called Outlaw Two-Pack – $25.00 $20.00

*Note: Special prices and packages are available only through my website. Offer expires 12/25/09.


Special Gifts for First 3 Buyers!
As my own Merry Christmas thank-you gift to my readers, I’m giving away prizes to the first three buyers.


Gift #1: Free book – winner’s choice between Behold the Dawn and A Man Called Outlaw.


Gift #2: “There is no frigate like a book” tote bag (click the image for a larger view).


Gift #3: “To read is to empower” mousepad (click the image for a larger view).


Praise for Behold the Dawn
Read Synopsis | Read First Chapter | Watch Trailer

• “I loved it. It is one of those books you think about even after finishing. Can’t wait for the movie.”

• “…This book was truly incredible. [Weiland] does such a great job of keeping the reader turning the pages. There’s something in this book for everyone: there is enough action to satisfy the adventure lover; enough impossible awakening love to satisfy the romantic; enough research to satisfy the historian, enough intrigue, betrayal and murder to satisfy the mystery lover, and enough mercy and forgiveness to satisfy the Christ-follower.”
• “Normally I don't like war stories, but there are always exceptions. What makes the difference goes beyond the blood-and-guts of everyday combat. The author of such a novel cannot help but show it in the background, but some other element must take center stage to capture my interest. An element that involves character. K.M. Weiland's book, Behold the Dawn, is such a war story.”

• “I love stories about redemption, and this was definitely no exception. The characters are so real (and enjoyable to read about). I was so impressed by the love story. I loved the storyline. And the ending. And the moral. It was awesome.”

• “As you turn the last page, it is hard to remember the story is only fiction, that the people are not real and living out their lives somewhere.”

Praise for A Man Called Outlaw
Read Synopsis | Read First Chapter

• “Definitely one of the Best books I have EVER read. I can’t wait for a sequel; I have to know what became of Shane.”

• “I read the whole book in two days! Thursday night I stayed up until 1:30 AM ‘cause I just couldn’t put it down!!”

• “I think you must include a warning that this book is hazardous to your health. Reader is in danger of not eating or sleeping until the story is concluded! ...The book is absolutely riveting!!!!”

• “One of the most compelling reads in years, this book takes place in the frontier, and centers around a young man, his adoptive father, and a mysterious man from the past known only as the Outlaw…. The different approaches to the simple question of what is right and wrong are framed so beautifully, that any reader will be challenged to think about their world, and world view.”

• “One week ago, I had 2 novels on my list that if I were to see someone in a bookstore debating over whether or not to buy it, I'd tell them: ‘You need to read that one.’ Today, I have 3. And this is it.”

Feel free to email me any questions!


Merry Christmas!


—K.M. Weiland

Creative writing exercises are a staple of workshops and a beloved tool of many authors. Writers are encouraged to keep writing journals, where they spend at least fifteen minutes every day writing whatever pops to mind: Story ideas, essays, stream-of-consciousness paragraphs, writing-prompt brain stretchers, etc. For a brief period in the early days of my writing, I dove into journaling as enthusiastically as anyone. I bought myself a big red notebook, a kit of writing prompts, and even a calligraphy pen and ink for inspiration’s sake. Every day, before sitting down to start my work-in-progress, I would flip open my notebook, run my finger down the list of writing prompts, dip my pen in the ink, and start scribbling.


You know what I gleaned from my labors?


Zip. Zilch. Zero.


Now before I begin my tirade, let me say that just because something wasn’t right for me doesn’t mean it isn’t right for everyone. Maybe journaling is a mine of creative gems for some people. Maybe it is conducive to that sometimes elusive dance with the muse. But maybe it’s also a waste of time.
Following are the four reasons I no longer journal:

1. Time is precious. I write a novel every three years. If I keep that pace throughout my life and if I live to the ripe old age of eighty, I may be lucky enough to write a whopping total of twenty stories. Time’s a-wasting! So why would I want to spend that precious time scribbling in a journal, instead of working on those twenty stories?

2. Creative energy is precious. Simple question: Would I rather spend my creative energy in a journal that probably will be worth reading to no one but myself—or working on a novel that will be read by many? I feel a deep need to use my creativity responsibly, and frittering it away in a journal isn’t going to get that next novel written and published.

3. Writers don’t practice writing; they write. You often hear journaling referred to as “practice writing.” But writers either write, or they don’t. “Practice” is what happens during the first (and second and third) drafts. My aunt, a successful horsewoman, used to coach me in equestrian maneuvers by saying, “Practice doesn’t make perfect. Perfect practice makes perfect.” The same goes for writing: Put your practice to work where perfection counts.

4. Procrastination poses under many guises. Writing is scary business. Those first few moments when I sit down to start my day’s work are inevitably panic-ridden. My brain starts scrambling for any excuse it can find to delay the moment a little longer. File my nails? Sort my highlighters? Deworm the cat? Writing exercises can easily fall into the same category. It’s much easier to scribble away on exercises that don’t matter, rather than buckle down and work on that tough scene opener. And the dangerous thing about procrastination is that once you start down that slippery slope, it’s a hard habit to break.

I’m certainly not opposed to using journals to break through blocks and work out story problems. I do that every day when I scribble out scene ideas in a notebook before actually writing the scene. And writing prompts absolutely have their worth. Ideas are free for the taking everywhere we look, and writing prompts are often a handy source. But I argue that keeping a writing-exercise journal is an ineffective, inefficient, and occasionally even detrimental habit.


What do you think?


Related Posts: Real Writing or Wasting Time? by Jeannine Kinsey


Journaling and Conquering Monsters

Warming Up

5 Ways to Create Inspiration
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Some of the most powerful stories in literature and cinema have a surprising common element: The death of a main character. At first glance, this would seem to be an instant turnoff. Why hang with a character for 300+ pages only to watch him get knocked off in the end? But the truth is, when handled properly, the death of a character can add untold power and pathos to a tale. It can lift your story from ordinary to extraordinary.

It can also result in a slew of hate mail from formerly loyal readers.

Image by Rocio Montoya

The death of a popular character has caused more than one book to be hurled across the living room. So when you find your story demands you kill a prominent character, how do you tap into the power and pathos without infuriating your readers? After analyzing a number of books and movies in which the main characters bit the dust, I discovered three keys to playing the assassin and living to tell another tale.

Key #1: Make the death matter. Nothing kills a reader’s trust faster than characters who die for no good reason—or purely for shock value. If you’ve built a character into a three-dimensional human being worth caring about, then he’s someone who deserves to die for a purpose (unless your intention is to illustrate purposelessness—such as is occasionally accomplished with success in war stories). When Maximus (Russell Crowe) dies in Gladiator, we know he’s sacrificed his life to free Rome from the tyranny and corruption of Emperor Commodus (Joaquin Phoenix). Instead of angering us, we accept his death as the only logical conclusion. He gave his life to gain something worth more than his life. We resonate with that, we admire him for his nobility, and we cheer his victory, even as we mourn his death.

Key #2: Foreshadow the character’s demise. If you kill a prominent character without warning, readers are likely to react with anger and frustration. They expected to remain in this character’s company for chapters to come, or, at the very least, they expected a happy ending. Jerking the rug out from under them at the last minute means sacrificing the resonance of foreshadowing. A story’s outcome should be unpredictable, but it should also make sense in the context. Readers should be surprised by a character’s death, but when they stop to consider it, they should also be able to realize, Ah, yes, that makes sense. In John Irving’s A Prayer for Owen Meany, the reader knows almost from the beginning that Owen is going to die. The narrator, who is looking back on events, tells us so, and Owen’s own dreams of his demise hint at the manner of his death. When tragedy actually strikes, we’re prepared for the worst. And, surprisingly, this foreknowledge only heightens the suspense and the poignancy.

Key #3: End on an affirming note. Generally speaking, readers want happy endings. Even in the midst of the worst of catastrophes, it’s important we find a ribbon of light. In some instances, this is just a matter of highlighting the good accomplished by the character’s death (as in both Maximus’s and Owen Meany’s stories), but sometimes a little artistic finagling can give you an unexpected happy ending. Audrey Niffenegger’s wildly popular The Time Traveler’s Wife uses its time-traveling premise to allow the main characters one last reunion, far in the future, after the husband’s death. This ray of love and joy pierces through the otherwise tragic ending to allow the reader a wistful smile as he closes the book’s cover.

Killing a character is never a decision you should make lightly. But if you’re certain a death is what your story demands, then you can use these three keys to satisfy your readers even in the midst of tragedy.

Related Posts: Emotional Honesty in The Great Escape

It's What Your Characters Do That Defines Them

Eliciting Emotion

The All-Important Link Between Theme and Character
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Ever wonder what a novel’s nightmares would look like, if it could dream? Naturally, I can only guess. But I’d say that the spine-tingling fear of being put down is probably at the top of the list. When a reader pokes his bookmark in between the pages, stretches, yawns, and drops a novel back on his nightstand, it’s a terrifying moment for both novels and novelists alike. This is the moment we’ve worked and sweated and prayed to avoid. And yet it’s a problem that few of us will entirely escape in our careers. This week, I decided to take a highly unscientific poll in an effort to discover the most common reasons a reader stops reading. Below are the bulk of my results, gleaned from Twitter and Facebook. (If you’re not following me for updates, tips, helpful links, and inspiring quotes on either of these sites, you can do so by clicking the links or the logos in the right-hand column.)

1. Unworthy Characters
At the top of the list of complaints was the unworthy character. Nothing makes a reader slap a book down faster than a boring, unrealistic character:

Jen Brubacher: I don’t care about the characters, and so I don’t need to know what happens to them next.
Jane Lebak: Mile-long sentences ornamented with clichés, flat characters, cardboard villains, author relying on gimmicks. Yeah. Not reading.
Adriela Ashford: Boring characters. I’ll tolerate a lot as far as contrived storylines go, but if the characters aren’t likable, fugetaboutit.

2. Lack of Plot Progression / Poor Pacing
People read because they care about characters; but they also read because they want to be entertained by the unexpected twists and careening turns of the plot. Let them down, bore them with clichés, or put them to sleep with nonevents, and they’re not likely to stick around:

Lorna G. Poston: Unbelievable plot, unless it’s a fantasy; underdeveloped storyline. I stopped reading a book just recently. It was a nice story, but nothing happened and the scenes didn’t fit together. I ended up not caring what happened to the main character.
Jodie Bailey: Problems that could have been solved in the first ten pages, but they drag out for 300.
Naomi Musch: PREDICTABILITY. I may know that it’s going to end well, but I don’t want to be a chapter ahead of the author the entire way. That makes the journey so dull!

3. Gratuitous Sex, Language, and Violence
Literature and movies are saturated with gratuitous situations these days, but most readers don’t appreciate being pummeled with unnecessary violence, language, and sexual situations:

Tommie Lyn: I don’t like offensive language. Some authors seem to flaunt it, like a little boy saying, “Look at me! I know how to cuss!” and I won’t read them.
Holly Heisey : Gratuitous sex/violence will make me put it down.

4. Too Much Description
The days of Dickens’s and Austen’s pages and pages of descriptive settings are long gone. Readers today want the scene sketched in a minimum of details:

Tamera Kraft: Long flowery descriptions or narrative that doesn’t do anything to further the story. Too much and I’ll set it down in a heartbeat.
Coralee Walther: Going into so much detail that you lose the flow of the story or it becomes really boring.
Kristina Seleshanko : Dry writing. That’s a big vague, I realize, but usually it means too much description and not enough action.

5. No Emotional Connection
Readers want stories to last beyond just mere entertainment value. They want to connect with stories and characters on a deeper level. In other words, they want to read stories that matter to them personally:

Tommie Lyn: If it’s “wooden,” i.e., creates no emotion in me. It may be technically perfect... and beautiful prose... but if there’s no human element behind those well-chosen words that touches my heart as well as my brain, I can’t seem to get into it, and I’ll put it down.
MarChessa Taylor: A good story evokes an emotion from you, even if you’ve never been in the life situations mentioned therein; you find yourself in the story or imagining it with pictures in your mind. You find yourself relating or getting excited about getting to the next page.

6. Poor Dialogue
Dialogue should easily be one of the best parts of any story. Readers love moving, witty, realistic dialogue. What they don’t love are forced and clichéd conversations:

Adriela Ashford: If the dialogue is too stuffy, slangy, or forced, I won’t read it. And overuse of names. In real life, we don’t constantly call each other by our proper names—why would we in a book?

7. Too Preachy
Even as they desire to be moved by deep and powerful themes, readers are adamant in their dislike of “preachiness.” Trying to force an agenda on a reader will get your book nowhere but dusty:

Holly Heisey: I don’t like books that try to cram a message down your throat.

Although this list of ours certainly isn’t exhaustible, it’s a good place to start in our quest to keep readers pawing through our pages as fast they as they can. What’s your opinion? What’s the most common reason you stop reading a story?

Related Posts: The All-Important Link Between Theme and Character Progression

Details: Bringing Fiction to Life

Eliciting Emotion

Punch Your Readers in the Gut!
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Critique partners, critters, alpha readers, beta readers, proofreaders, editors, loyal slaves and subjects—whatever you want to call them, they’re a vital part of any author’s arsenal. No matter how talented and studied we may be, we’re always going to need an objective pair of eyes to look at our work and point out the flaws we’ve inevitably missed. Those of us who are lucky to have one or more dependable crit partners are blessed indeed. Critters should be pampered and courted and thanked profusely at every opportunity.


But, believe it or not, this doesn’t mean we don’t have every right to completely ignore them at times. It’s often hard not to surrender to incumbent doubts and make all the changes your critter suggests, especially when he is more experienced or forceful than you are, or when a critique group gangs up on you. Surely, they know best. Surely, the story will be better their way than yours.


But will it? How do you know when to heed criticism? How do you know what’s worth listening to? You can start by asking yourself the following six questions:


1. How experienced is this person as both a reader and a writer? In other words, does he know what he’s talking about?


2. Does what he’s saying resonate with your own instincts? Take a moment to brush off the sting of criticism, sit quietly, and ask yourself if the suggested change feels right for the story. Chances are your critter may have seen something you missed. But, then again, maybe not. If your gut tells you your story is better your way, listen to it.


3. Has more than one person mentioned the same problem? My personal policy on criticism is that two people (one of whom can be myself) have to agree on it to make it worth changing. If I agree with one critter, then it’s a no-brainer that I’ll change my manuscript to reflect his suggestions. But if I disagree with one critter only to have his opinion backed up by a second opinion, I know I need to take another long hard look at the passage in question.


4. Does the critter understand what you’re trying to accomplish in the overall scope and tone of your story? Sometimes critters unintentionally try to conform your writing to their own style. His style may be just as good as yours, but if it’s not what you’re going for, don’t hesitate to ignore irrelevant suggestions.


5. How long has this person been critting for you? If your critter is a person who’s read your work over a long period of time, he probably has gained a very good sense of you, your work, and what you’re capable of. The longer someone has critted for you and the more established your relationship, the more likely his advice will be worth listening to.


6. Do you know your critter’s strengths and weaknesses? If you’re able to have more than one person read your manuscripts, sometimes it’s best to ask each of them to focus on a particular facet of your story. Some people will be stronger at catching inconsistencies in character personalities, while others will be better at finessing your dialogue. And, likewise, each will have his weaker area, in which his opinion may not be as valuable as someone else’s.


In short, you’re not likely to discover a critter whose advice is worth listening to in toto. You’ll have to sort through his suggestions, balance your mindset somewhere between discernment and humility, and discover which juicy bits of criticism can lift your story to a new level—and which cannot. In the end, no matter how brilliant your critters may be, your story is still your story, and whatever you change or don’t change must line up with your own vision.


Related Posts: Writing Buddies

Questions for Critique Partners

The Importance of Pleasing Ourselves in Our Writing

Putting Your Ego in Your Back Pocket

Analyze This: Critiques and How to Make Sure You're Getting the Best Ones by Liberty Speidel
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Fiction writing doesn’t offer many shortcuts or magic formulas. But today I am going to give you a secret ingredient in that coveted recipe for memorable and realistic characters. What is this ingredient? Dichotomy.


If we expect our characters to jump off the page into three-dimensional living color, we have to give them multi-faceted personalities. Human personalities are wonderfully (and sometimes frustratingly) varied. No one is 100% good or 100% bad; there are multitudinous shades of gray in all of us. And so it should be with our characters. Take a look at the following list of classic characters and the dichotomies that made them so memorable.


1. Long John Silver in Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson


You’d expect a treasure-hungry, bloodthirsty pirate to be bad right down to the tip of his peg leg, but few of these bad boys reached the legendary status to which Captain Silver attained thanks to his fondness for an upright youngster named Jim Hawkins. Silver may have been a nasty cutthroat, but his affection (and his actions to back it up, even when the going got tough) made him worth remembering.


2. Aunt Abby & Aunt Martha Brewster in Arsenic and Old Lace by Frank Capra
At the center of Capra’s madcap classic are two of the sweetest little old ladies you’re likely to find anywhere this side of your grandmother. In fact, they’re so sweet viewers would be likely to pass them off as maudlin clichés—were it not for their unforgettable desire to help lonely old men… by poisoning them.





3. Mr. Darcy in Pride & Prejudice by Jane Austen


What discussion of dichotomous characters would be complete without mentioning the multi-faceted Mr. Darcy, whose brooding paradox of arrogance and bashfulness, tactlessness and generosity hoisted him to the top of the pile as one of literature’s most fanatically loved characters.


4. George Bailey in It’s a Wonderful Life directed by Frank Capra


Grumpy, disillusioned, dissatisfied George Bailey appears on our television screens every Christmas. He’s an unhappy and even unlikable man for much of the movie, but what we love—what we keep coming back to see year after year—is the inherent goodness, the unfailing selflessness hidden away beneath all that grumbling. We resonate with George Bailey, because we see that same mixture of good and bad every time we look in the mirror.


5. Alan Breck Stewart in Kidnapped by Robert Louis Stevenson


Alan Breck Stewart, the brash Jacobite soldier, isn’t our idea of a gentleman—anymore than he is protagonist David Balfour’s. Rough and rude and crude as he may, Stewart’s last impression upon us is his unfailing honesty and integrity. But neither his brashness, nor his uprightness, would be nearly as memorable in isolation.


6. Jack Aubrey in the Aubrey/Maturin series by Patrick O’Brian


O’Brian’s deft ability to sketch characters has given us the inherently flawed and inherently lovable lifelong royal seaman Jack Aubrey. Aubrey’s brilliance at sea and in battle contrasted with his naïveté and even ineptitude regarding matters on land gives him a marvelous stamp of authenticity. And who could forget his unexpected penchant for classical music?





7. Jason Bourne in The Bourne Identity directed by Doug Liman


Killers with a conscience are perhaps one of the most common dichotomies in fiction. But few are as well rounded as the movie version of amnesiac assassin Jason Bourne. The entire story is driven by the question Why would a man with an obviously integral sense of morality willingly choose to become a professional killer?


8. Mr. Magorium in Mr. Magorium’s Wonder Emporium by N. E. Bode and Juliana Baggott


This whimsical children’s story is certainly a stretch on reality. But the age-old wisdom and the intrinsic innocence of toy-shop owner Mr. Magorium still resonates. How can a man who knows so much still maintain such a childlike sense of wonder and imagination? The question is never answered, but we end up being so fascinated by the character of Mr. Magorium that we hardly care.


9. King Kong in King Kong directed by Peter Jackson


The great ape of classic cinema may not be the best character ever put on film, but he remains memorable simply because he presented such a beautiful dichotomy: a primal, instinctive killer who bestowed his own version of kindness and gentleness on the one person he loved.


10. Léon in Léon (The Professional) by Luc Besson


More or less duped into being a killer for hire, émigré Léon lives a life of silence and loneliness, bestowing his affections only in his diligent care of his Japanese peace lily. Jean Reno’s characterization gives us a brilliantly subtle character, whose seeming simplicity only adds deeper layers to what could have so easily been a cookie-cutter character.


11. Tom Doniphon in The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance directed by John Ford


Rough and ready homesteader Tom Doniphon rides roughshod over pretty much everybody, including his longtime girl Hallie. But when the cards are the table and he has to choose between losing Hallie and doing the right thing, he proves that what you see isn’t always what you get. (Warning: spoilers.)





Related Posts: It's What Your Characters Do That Defines Them

Characters: Likability Is Overrated

What Dickens Can Teach Us About Complex Characters
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