Wordplay

Today, I’m honored to be hosted on The Bookshelf Muse. Be sure to stop by the blog to read my guest post “Reverse Outlining,” which is an excerpt from my book Outlining Your Novel: Map Your Way to Success. Leave a comment on The Bookshelf Muse to enter to win a copy! Below is a sneak peek:

When you think of outlines, you generally think about organization, right? The whole point of outlining, versus the seat-of-the-pants method, is to give the writer a road map, a set of guidelines, a plan. An outline should be simple, streamlined, and linear. An outline should put things in order. So you’re probably going to think I’m crazy when I tell you one of the most effective ways to make certain every scene matters is to outline backwards.

You know those mornings when you wake up, drag your bleary-eyed self over to the coffeemaker, pour that steaming cup of Joe (mostly) into your mug, then stagger to the laptop to see what new and fascinating developments Facebook and Twitter have dumped into your inbox overnight? Somebody’s posted a link to the latest free Kindle books, somebody else is passing around a hilarious new Lolcats, and somebody else has a question about their latest plot problem. So between swigs of coffee, you start typing responses. You’ve only just woken up. The caffeine hasn’t kicked in. But, hey, at least your fingers are moving over that keyboard. You hit send, then head off for a shower.

Not until you return to the computer forty-five minutes later, do you realize you’ve really stepped in it. The latest notification in your inbox is from your friendly neighborhood Grammar Nazi, who has taken it upon himself to inform you that your last comment was an opprobrium to the hallowed study of grammar, spelling, diction, and other such inviolables. Your great sin? You wrote “your” instead of “you’re.” Forget about even trying to claim you were under the influence of that cup of morning coffee. Forget about pointing out that it was a simple typo, a slip of your fingers when your brain really did know better. Forget about claiming it could have happened to anyone. You think the Grammar Nazis care about piddling little excuses like that? Nosirree!

Image by BuzzLOL.com

Why I Hate Grammar Nazis

I’m going to admit up front that I really don’t get why people think they have a duty (much less a right) to point out every little mistake, particularly in the relatively informal setting of social media. Good manners says overlooking the occasional and inevitable little boo-boo is the better part of courtesy.

The truth is we all make honest little mistakes. We all rip off a tweet and slap the enter button before we’ve really had proper time to proofread it. We’ve all cringed when we’ve caught the typo after it’s gone live for all the world to see. Most of the time, we don’t need Mr. Grammar Nazi to tell us where we erred. Most of the time, when he does tell us, we just want to bonk his annoying little know-it-all head with something heavy and blunt.

Why I Am One

And yet, as much as Grammar Nazis sometimes drive me up the wall, I also have to admit my affinity with them. I try my absolute bestest not to point out every misplaced comma, every misused term, and every misspelled word I see. But, I tell you what, it’s hard! When you’re watching the English language tumble down around your head, it’s tough not to run around like Chicken Little, screaming, “The grammar’s failing! The grammar’s failing!”

I love my language. I love its precision. I love its rules. I’m also more than a little OCD, so, naturally, I want to fix everyone’s mistakes. But I don’t. Not always, at any rate. Because I believe there’s a time and a place to pick your battles.

How to Correct Grammar Effectively

To be effective in sharing our knowledge with the leetspeakers, we have to realize why most people hate the guts out of Grammar Nazis and then approach with caution. Here’s a good plan of attack:

• Don’t jump on every typo you see.
• Double-check your proposed correction is indeed correct.
• Consider whether the typo was the honest mistake of someone who knew better or something committed out of ignorance.
• If the former, consider letting it go. If the latter, consider the following.
• Determine whether the person at fault wants to improve.
• If yes, contact them in private. Few people appreciate being told their faults in a public forum.
• Be kind. No one likes a know-it-all. Even when he’s right. Okay, especially when he’s right.
• If no, take a deep breath. Realize it doesn’t matter. Let it go. Move on.

If we can learn to follow these steps, we’ll not only have a better chance of encouraging correct word usage among our fellows, we might even be able to shake the annoying connotations people associate with us. Maybe we’ll even get a better name one of these days. Something like Grammar Jedi?


Tell me your opinion: Do other people ’s typos drive you nuts?


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Click the “Play” button to Listen to Audio Version (or subscribe to the Wordplay podcast in iTunes).

This week’s video offers some thoughts about the benefits of 25 cent words over $100 ones—and vice versa.





Video Transcript: The debate between the worthiness of 25 cent words versus 100 dollar words is ongoing among authors. Some of us argue that simplicity is always best, if only because we can’t risk confusing our readership with unfamiliar language. Others among us want to embrace the full scope of the English vocabulary and utilize the impressive and specific big words. This is an argument that rages all the way from the ranks of the newbies to the halls of the masters. Contemporary Pulitzer winners William Faulkner and Ernest Hemingway had an infamous exchange, in which Faulkner said Hemingway could never be accused of using “a word that might send a reader to the dictionary.” To which Hemingway shot back, “Poor Faulkner. Does he really think big emotions come from big words?”

In general, I am huge vocabulary nut. I love the big words, the unusual words, the arcane words. I love the discovery of a word that perfectly describes something which might otherwise have required half a dozen smaller words. I love it when I see that word used correctly by other authors, and I love it when I get the chance to use it myself. But restraint is always the order of the day. An author’s choice of words should always be guided by the requirements of the story. George Orwell’s commandment to “never use a long word where a short one will do” is good advice. Even better, however, is the common sense stricture to never use a word that your narrators wouldn’t use.

You don’t want your hillbilly characters talking like college graduates. I recently read a book that featured poor backwoods characters who remarkably managed to cram words such as irrefutable, cosmolined, effaced, obliterated, carborundum, progenitorless, and apotheosis—all into one paragraph. So, by all means, don’t let the big words die, but also don’t kill them through misuse.


Tell me your opinion: Do you believe unusual words should be embraced or avoided?


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Image by ellomello135

Today, I’m honored to be hosted on The Artist's Road. Be sure to stop by the blog to read my guest post “Write Yourself a Bad Review ” Below is a sneak peek:

We all hate the critic in our heads. You know the one—talks with a nasal British accent, uses words like “deluded numbskull” and “insufferable incompetent,” and never fails to announce that your latest story is tripe. This critic of ours never seems to have a good word to say and is always running us down. So, naturally, we try to block him out as much as possible. But what if we were to actually give him permission to speak every now and then? What if his grumblings and mumblings had something of benefit to offer us?

Three’s a crowd—especially when authors have to juggle three or more characters in a single scene. One character? No problem. We can safely call him “he” throughout the entire scene without once worrying about confusing our readers. Two characters? Eh, that’s in the bag. The dialogue alternates between characters every other line, and, if they happen to be of opposite genders, we can still safely use the pronouns.

But three or—heaven forbid—more characters? How do we juggle scenes in which multiple characters are all supposed to be acting and talking? How do we keep a dozen characters involved in the scene without making it feel like a rote rotation of speakers? Most importantly, how do we keep this stampeding cast of characters from trampling our readers and leaving them bruised and confused?

Image by Martin Cepan.

Ask yourself the following questions:

What’s the point?

Figure out the point of your scene early on and keep it firmly in mind as you navigate your sea of characters. Think about that last boardroom meeting you wrote. It no doubt had a ton of characters—some of them important and some of them not—and if you had taken the time to touch base with every character, the scene would have lost focus.

What’s the conflict?

Conflict’s another important (nay, vital) ingredient that can often get lost amidst the clutter of multiple characters. We can get so involved in arranging, describing, and chatting with our horde that we forget to make sparks fly among them. A friendly chat among half a dozen characters isn’t interesting. A raging argument on the other hand...

Who will be your primary characters?

Your scene may require the presence of twenty characters, but that doesn’t mean the bulk of the scene has to involve all of them. You’ll be better able to focus your scene and ramp up the conflict if you keep the primary exchange anchored between two or three primary characters. Most of us can’t carry on a conversation with a dozen people at once anyway. We instinctively fragment into smaller groups, and so should your characters.

Are you introducing too many characters?

Bad enough when readers have to keep up with a dozen already-familiar characters. But when they’ve just been introduced to these people, their chances of figuring out who’s who go down the drain. If you know you’ve got a big (and by big I mean crowded) scene coming up, lay the groundwork by introducing all the prominent players in earlier scenes.

How are your characters unique?

You can help readers navigate the crowd by making sure none of your characters blend together. Make them memorable by giving them unique personal traits. And help readers differentiate them by making certain none of their names begin with the same letter or look too similar on the page.

Is your dialogue clearly tagged?

Perhaps the biggest potential pitfall of multiple-character scenes is the dialogue. Unlike two-speaker dialogue exchanges, in which readers understand the dialogue is ping-ponging back and forth between the two characters, conversations among multiple characters can grow confusing. Whenever there’s even the slightest chance readers may not know who’s speaking, do them a favor and clearly indicate the speaker with a dialogue tag (Mike said) or an action beat (Mike thumped his glass down on the table).

Multiple-character scenes can amp up the stakes, the tension, and the fun. So long as you plan them out, realize the pitfalls, and prepare for potential problems, you’ll be ready to host the biggest character party on the block.


Tell me your opinion: What's the maximum number of characters you've ever featured in a scene?


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Click the “Play” button to Listen to Audio Version (or subscribe to the Wordplay podcast in iTunes).

This week I’m pleased to present a post by Becke Martin Davis, part of the “faculty” of Romance University, which along with Wordplay was one of 2012’s Top 10 Blogs for Writers. Today, she shares wisdom from bestselling mystery grande dame Agatha Christie. 
I was honored when Katie invited me to write a guest blog, but also a little unnerved. I’m not actually published—at least not in fiction. Since I can only imagine the life of a bestselling author, what do I have to offer? “Write what you know” is the old adage, and if there’s one thing I know it’s Agatha Christie. 

Image by Olivia Wharton

I’ve been a mystery buff since age eight, and an Agatha Christie fan since my teens. I’ve read every book she’s written, including her poems, plays, and the romances she wrote as Mary Westmacott. My first thought was to write a post called “What Would Agatha Do?” That proved to be a little tricky. Since Dame Agatha died in 1976, I can only guess what she would do in certain situations. But I can share her comments about writing, since she wrote frankly about this subject in Agatha Christie: An Autobiography.

Everyone Has to Start Someplace, Even the Queen of Crime

In Agatha’s case it was a novel she called Agnes. As she recalled, “It had four sisters in it: Queenie, the eldest, golden-haired and beautiful, and then some twins, dark and handsome, finally Agnes, who was plain, shy and (of course) in poor health, lying patiently on a sofa. There must have been more story than this, but it has all gone now. All I remember is that Agnes’s true worth was recognized at last by some splendid man with a black moustache whom she had loved secretly for many years.”

On a Writer’s Self-Confidence (or Lack of It)

“I don’t think I went as far as being pleased with my stories—but then there always has to be a lapse of time after the accomplishment of a piece of creative work before you can in any way evaluate it. You start into it, inflamed by an idea, full of hope, full indeed of confidence...buoyed up with exultation. You then get into difficulties, don’t see your way out, and finally manage to accomplish more or less what you first meant to accomplish, though losing confidence all the time. Having finished it, you know that it is absolutely rotten. A couple of months later you wonder whether it may not be all right after all.”

On Becoming a Professional

“I had worked out the plot—a conventional plot, partly adapted from one of my other stories, and I knew, as one might say, where I was going, but I could not see the scene in my mind’s-eye, and the people would not come alive. I was driven desperately on by the desire, indeed the necessity, to write another book and make some money. That was the moment I changed from an amateur to a professional. I assumed the burden of a profession, which is to write even when you don’t want to...”

On Rewrites

“I finished the last half of the book, or as near as not, during my fortnight’s holiday. Of course that was not the end. I then had to rewrite a great part of it—mostly the overcomplicated middle. But in the end it was finished and I was reasonably satisfied with it. That is to say it was roughly as I had intended for it to be. It could be much better, I saw that, but I didn’t see just how I could make it better, so I had to leave it as it was...Then I got it properly typed by somebody, and having decided I could do no more to it, I sent it off to a publisher...who returned it. It was a plain refusal, with no frills on it.”

On Contracts

“Then he went on to the business aspect, pointing out what a risk a publisher took if he published a novel by a new and unknown author... Having given up hope for some years now of having anything published...the idea of having a book come out in print went straight to my head. I would have signed anything. This particular contract entailed my not receiving any royalties until after the first 2000 copies had been sold—after that a small royalty would be paid... I didn’t even notice that there was a clause binding me to offer him my next five novels, at an only slightly increased rate of royalty.”

What Would Agatha Say About Social Media and Self-Promotion?

“There are many careers where personalities and public relations matter—for instance if you are an actor, or a public figure. An author’s business is simply to write.”

The Guinness Book of World Records lists Dame Agatha Christie as the bestselling author of all time, although some sources show her tied with William Shakespeare. She has sold between 2-4 billion books in over 100 countries.

Note: All quotes were taken from Agatha Christie: An Autobiography by Agatha Christie, William Collins Sons & Co., London, 1977.

About the Author: Becke Martin Davis is multi-published in non-fiction, but not as yet in fiction. She is part of the Romance University team and moderates Barnes & Noble’s Mystery Forum. She is vice president of the Ohio Valley Chapter of RWA and is a member of Sisters in Crime. Several of her stories have finaled in RWA contests, and her mystery short-short “Deus Ex Machina” was featured at NPR, where Jonathan Railey called it “the literary equivalent of a basket of late night fried mozzarella cheese sticks.”


Tell me your opinion: If you could choose any classic author to me your mentor, who would it be?


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Today, I’m honored to be hosted on The Write Practice. Be sure to stop by the blog to read my guest post “Han Solo, Scarlett O’Hara, and Your Characters: What Makes Them Compelling?” Below is a sneak peek:

We all know what a compelling character looks like.

Han Solo. Scarlett O’Hara. Tom Sawyer. Anne Shirley. Frodo Baggins.

Those are the characters we’ve cheered for, and those are the kinds of characters we want to put into our stories. But watching Han Solo swashbuckling on the big screen is scads easier than trying to write someone who can pull in readers with the same force of sheer charisma.

This week’s video talks about a simple technique you can use to encourage readers to keep turning your final pages deep into the wee hours of the morning.





Video Transcript: The ends of our novels are make or break territory for our readers. If we’ve convinced them to keep reading this far, we had better have something extra special in store for them come the end. If we disappoint a reader in our story’s climax, we’ve not only failed in our most important job as authors, we’ve also likely lost that reader for life. So how do we dazzle them in that last quarter of our stories?

Not surprisingly, there isn’t a hard-and-fast answer to this. Every story is different, so, of course, every climax is different. The foundation of your slam-bang finale has to be built into the story—the plot and the characters—that preceded it. But there is one trick that can make a world of difference in your presentation of that final quarter, and it’s one we find used to great effect in Brent Weeks’s fantasy The Way of Shadows. This technique had me racing through his pages so fast that I quite literally lost track of time.

The technique I’m talking about is nothing more or less than shortening the scenes and chapters in the final quarter of the story. Doing so creates a sense of speed and urgency, as the story darts back and forth between the important actions of multiple POV characters, intertwining them, and funneling them all down to their inevitable meeting at the conclusion. Shorter scenes—which in turn are made up of shorter paragraphs and shorter sentences—suck readers into the mad dash of your finale. However, as with everything in writing, you have to use this technique with finesse. Don’t force it. Just watch out for the natural scene breaks, which should come faster and faster the closer you get to the end.

Tell me your opinion: Do your scenes get shorter toward the end of the book?

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You know that moment when, in the middle of a brilliant novel, you drop the book into your lap, stare at the ceiling, and wonder why God chose to gift this novelist with effortless talent, while you’re left slogging in the trenches of writer’s block and clunky sentences? I doubt many of us haven’t encountered the feeling that the truly gifted writers pop into the world with fully formed writing genius. Fortunately, it’s just that—a feeling. There isn’t a writer on the planet who hasn’t had to learn his craft and pay his dues. The writing craft is a learning curve for all of us. Even the Margaret Atwoods and Stephen Kings had to log their time as frustrated, fearful authors who had no idea what they were doing. So how did they learn to write? How did they go from clunky to confident?

Not long ago, a reader emailed me, suggesting a post in which I describe how I learned to write. While I certainly haven’t reached a writing level anywhere close to masters such as Atwood and King, today I’d like to share with that reader—and the rest of you—some of the major catalytic moments in my writing journey.

I read widely. Writers have to be voracious bookworms. Read everything you can get your hands on, good and bad, until you gain a panoramic view of the literary scenery.

I read the classics. I’ve made it a goal to read all the classics before I die (at the rate I’m going, I figure it’ll take me forty-two more years). Some of the classics are great (Dickens is a favorite); some are torture (Faulkner’s A Fable was pretty much a “kill me now” moment). But in dedicating myself to reading the avowed greats from a tremendous range of authors, cultures, and time periods, I broadened my horizons as both an author and a person.

I read my genre. I probably don’t have to tell you this, even though someone had to tell me. If you write mysteries, read every whodunit you can get your hands on. Fantasy? Paw through all the Lord of the Rings knockoffs at your library. Learn what makes them work, what’s been done to death, and how to mimic their brilliance.

I read how-to books. This one was a major turning point for me. I’d happily written three and a half novels before even realizing there was such a thing as writing how-to books. Prior to this, I’d written entirely on the instinct gained from the osmosis of my bookworm habits. After this, I realized there was actually a process to writing stories. Suddenly, I went from winging it to working my way toward an understanding of the craft.

I listened to critters. From the start when I wrote one-page stories as a twelve-year-old, I always had someone edit my writing, and I always listened. Feedback from unbiased readers is crucial to understanding the effect our writing has upon other people. Feedback from experienced writers is crucial in learning how to improve so we can achieve that desired effect.

I took a writing course. I signed up for Writer’s Digest’s correspondence course “Fundamentals of Fiction.” By this point in my journey, I pretty much understood the fundamentals, so the course didn’t teach me oodles, so much as it granted me the confidence to go forth with what I’d already learned.

I subscribed to magazines. Roundabout the time I discovered writing how-to books, I also discovered writing magazines. I’ve been an avid subscriber to Writer’s Digest and The Writer for more than a decade. Having them drop into my mailbox every month means I’m always reading something about the craft, even when I don’t have a bookmark between the pages of a how-to book.

I joined a writing forum. Next to discovering the writing how-to book, probably the greatest epoch in my writing journey was gingerly crawling through the Internet to find suitable writing groups. I’ve been a member of several over the years (Christian Writers remains my favorite), and the daily contact with writers of every skill level has been a huge factor, not only in improving my writing, but also in gaining confidence and learning about the business end of the craft.

I figured out my process. Thanks to the combination of everything listed above, I was able to figure out and streamline the writing process that worked best for me. I listened to my gut, paid attention to what worked and what didn’t, and ruthlessly streamlined activities that were so much deadweight. Nowadays, I have a comfortable process that involves extensive outlining, researching, writing, and revising, and a daily schedule that lets me warm up and keeps me from procrastinating.

I made writing a priority. Finally, and perhaps most importantly, I made writing a priority early on and I stuck with it. Save for the too-sick-to-get-out-of-bed days and catastrophes such as flooded basements and orphaned kittens, I discipline myself to write two hours a day, five days a week, year round. And that makes all the difference.

So there you have it. This list isn’t exclusive and certainly won’t be every writer’s path to success. But this is what has worked for me. This is the path I’ve taken so far on my writing journey. Where the road turns next, of course, I have no idea. But that’s the fun of it!


Tell me your opinion: How did you learn to write?


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Click the “Play” button to Listen to Audio Version (or subscribe to the Wordplay podcast in iTunes).

Today, I’m honored to be hosted on Write to Done. Be sure to stop by the blog to read my guest post “The Pros and Cons of Comparing Yourself to Other Writers.” Below is a sneak peek:

With the advent of writing communities on such networking sites as Twitter and Facebook and half a thousand forums and Nings, writers are perhaps more social and less solitary than at any time in our history. This brings its fair share of both benefits and drawbacks, since our easy access to other writers—both those who are striving to be published and those who have a dozen bestsellers under their belts—causes inevitable comparisons. Are we as good as they are? Are they as good as we are? Let’s explore what we can gain from answering these questions, as well as what pitfalls we have to avoid falling into face first.

This week’s video points out the pitfalls of characters who fall short of dynamism and reveals two ways to diagnose how you’re doing with your character.





Video Transcript: When you think of a good character what words come to mind? How about dynamic? Dynamic characters are the stuff of literary legend. But, at the other end of the spectrum, we have the static characters, and—except in instances in which the author purposefully leaves the character unyielding and unchanged over the course of the book to prove a point—these are usually the most forgettable and boring characters of the lot. Fortunately for us authors who want to avoid this pitfall, there are two surefire symptoms we can look for to diagnose whether or not our characters are falling prey to the static syndrome.

The first symptom of a static character is his lack of personal connection to the plot. If he can walk away from the conflict, at any point, without suffering significant ramifications, you can bet he doesn’t have enough at stake. The whole story revolves around your protagonist. Without him, there shouldn’t be a story. So if you find your main character isn’t embroiled deeply enough within the central conflict, you either need to up the stakes for him personally—or find a different protagonist who already has plenty at stake. In short, the protagonist’s involvement in the plot must matter to him as a person, preferably on both a physical and spiritual level.

The second symptom is the lack of change within your character over the course of a story. To be compelling, protagonists need to show a defined character arc. At the end of the story, they shouldn’t be the same person they were at the beginning. How is this story changing him? What is he learning? How is he growing? If these questions don’t have solid answers that define your plot, your character is probably static—and, as a result, far less interesting or relatable than readers would like. So keep your eyes open for these two symptoms, and stop static cling before it begins.

Tell me your opinion: Does your main character have any static tendencies?

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Plot vs. Character: Which Is More Important?

Readers have needs. Authors are supposed to fulfill those needs. One of those needs is knowing what’s going on in a story. So, naturally, the author’s response is to explain what’s going on. So far, so good, right?

Well, that depends.

Image by C12

Explanations, in whatever form (narrative, dialogue, or action), are essential to any story. But, when overdone, they can leave your reader feeling as if he’s drowning in a flood of wordy information. Let’s consider an example:

Too Much Explanation

Angie walked into the grocery store. At the door stood the old guy who was responsible for handing out carts, stamping stickers on return items, and guarding the exit from potential shoplifters. All the kids knew better than to mess with him. A few years ago, he’d tackled the star fullback on the high school team, just because he thought he looked guilty (he wasn’t; he’d only come in to buy a pack of gum). Angie passed the first checkout stand—abode of Mountain Dew-swilling Mrs. Walker—and offered a little wave in return to Mrs. Walker’s energetic one. “Hi, there,” Angie said and kept walking. She wasn’t in the mood to listen to Mrs. Walker’s latest bit of scandalous gossip. The last time she’d stopped, she’d had to listen for nearly an hour to whispers about balding banker Horace Wallace supposedly sneaking money out of his own vault. She didn’t have an hour to spare today. She was on a mission to save the stock boy, her best friend Rupert, from flunking math after missing another class.

So what do we have in this paragraph? At first glance a lot of explanation. None of our explaining here is essentially bad, but since the mean door guard, Mrs. Walker’s gossip, and the possibly compromised bank never show up in the story again, our explanations of the grocery store don’t move the story forward. In fact, all this extraneous info becomes a murky slough that the reader has to slog through to find the truly pertinent info. Let’s strip this down to bare necessities.

Just Enough Explanation

Angie walked into the grocery store. She was on a mission to save the stock boy, her best friend Rupert, from flunking math after missing another class.

Not only did we just reduce our word count to an eighth of its original bulk, we also streamlined the story down to the essentials of the plot and kept it moving forward, right toward the crux of the scene.

Over-explanation is highly subjective to its context in each story. In some stories, the explanation of the grocery store setting and/or the various personalities in Angie’s town might be crucial to the plot or even just worthwhile for the general color they provide. Authors have to make their own decisions about which explanations are necessary and which will force readers to tread unnecessary water. Always be aware of why you’re including a particular explanation, then reevaluate it to determine its value and don’t be afraid to chop it if it’s interrupting the information that’s of true importance to your story.


This is the thirteenth post in the Most Common Mistakes Series, inspired by the prevalent slip-ups I run across in editing other people’s work. Don’t worry: I don’t use any names or specific examples from my clients’ stories. I hope the series will prove helpful to you in nabbing these mistakes in your own work—before an agent or editor nabs them for you.


Tell me your opinion: What was the last explanation you wrote that didn't move the plot forward?

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Skip the Boring Parts


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Click the “Play” button to Listen to Audio Version (or subscribe to the Wordplay podcast in iTunes).

This week’s video discusses the use of a “flashforward” at the beginning of your novel, similar to the one Edna Ferber used in Show Boat.





Video Transcript: As many followers of my website probably already know, I am not a big of prologues or other gimmicky framing techniques for the beginning of a book. Primarily, this is because I don’t like the idea of making the reader begin the story twice. However, there are exceptions. One of the exceptions that occasionally works is the flashforward. In a nutshell, what this involves is opening with a tense scene that takes place late in the book, ending it with a cliffhanger, then backing up to explain how the character got to that point. Done right, this technique can create that wonderful insatiable curiosity in the reader, encouraging him to read on and discover not only what happens next, but what happened to begin with.

This technique is on my mind right now because I just finished reading Edna Ferber’s beloved historical novel Show Boat, which is a leisurely, nostalgic, sometimes rambling account of a young girl growing up on a Mississippi riverboat in the late 1800s. The beginning of the story contains pages upon pages of backstory—including how the protagonist’s parents met and married, her birth, and, finally, her family’s purchase of the show boat. By itself, none of these events are gripping enough to convince most readers to keep reading. But Ferber was clever enough to give readers a hook before feeding them the backstory.

In this instance, the hook involves an opening scene in which the protagonist is a grown woman, struggling through the difficult birth of her first child in the midst of a terrifying flood on the river. Ferber grabs her readers with her setting and her courageous character and not only makes them question whether or not the character will survive, but also makes them wonder how the character got into this situation in the first place. And the result is a first chapter that hauls her readers in like a fish on a line.

Tell me your opinion: Have you ever used a flashforward in a story?

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Strengthen Your Story With Proper Framing

How many times have you made a list of resolutions in January, only to have misplaced them, forgotten about them, or just plain given up on them before the month was out? This year, instead of making a complete list of writing resolutions for the whole year, try implementing one new resolution every month. Following are twelve—one for each month!

In January, I resolve to…schedule a regular writing time.
The more regularly we write, the easier it gets to churn out words and the better those words become. Make a point of scheduling a regular writing time—whether it’s four hours seven days a week or fifteen minutes five days a week.

In February, I resolve to… create a roadmap to publication.
Reaching publication, whether it’s traditionally or independently, takes time. Start planning your course of action this month. Figure out what obstacles lay between you and your goal, and plan how you can overcome them one by one.

In March, I resolve to… stop procrastinating.
Procrastination is one of the writer’s most formidable enemies. This month, make a point of not allowing yourself to waste any of your scheduled writing time doing anything off point—including visiting the fridge, clipping your hangnails, or checking your email.

In April, I resolve to… edit an old story.
Pull your last story out of the closet and go over it with the ol’ red pen. Stories are never finished, just abandoned. So take advantage of the distance of time between you and an old story to gain an objective vantage point.

In May, I resolve to… send my story out for critique.
Try to always have something in the hands of a reader who can give you constructive feedback. Cultivate partnerships with other writers, with whom you can trade edits. Or bite the bullet and hire a professional editor to help you put that professional polish on your story.

In June, I resolve to… enforce my writing time.
This is the month to stop letting others run all over you and your writing time. Kindly, but firmly, let others know that your writing time is not to be interfered with. Even more important, refuse to let yourself feel guilty for making your writing a priority.

In July, I resolve to… streamline my writing process.
Take a hard look at your daily writing routine and your writing process as a whole. What could you do to streamline it? What new methods could you try? What current habits are deadweight that can be safely jettisoned?

In August, I resolve to… fact check my story.
Go through your story and make note of every single fact, no matter how small, that there’s even the slightest chance you could have gotten wrong. Then double-check them.

In September, I resolve to… do one thing to build my author’s platform.
Even if publication isn’t in your near future, start thinking about how you can start interacting with and building your reading community. Create a website, join a forum, print business cards.

In October, I resolve to… interview my characters.
Solidify and expand your knowledge of your characters by interviewing them. Find out their favorite colors, worst childhood memories, and fondest dreams. You can find a list of interview questions in my free e-book Crafting Unforgettable Characters (or an expanded list in my book Outlining Your Novel: Map Your Way to Success).

In November, I resolve to... get organized.
Clean out your desk and organize your notes, both hardcopy and digital. Trash anything you don’t need and file everything in appropriate folders, so you’ll be able to find what you need when you need it.

In December, I resolve to... exterminate clichés.
Go through your manuscript and specifically look for clichéd phrases and overused words. You’ll be surprised how many you find. Underline them in red and brainstorm original replacements.

Bonus: Year-Long Resolution:
This year, I resolve to read at least one book on the craft every month.

Tell me your opinion: What are your writing goals for 2012?

Related Posts: 10 Writing Resolutions You Can Fulfill

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