Posted in Middle Grade, Plot, The Hero's Journey, Uncategorized

Alan Gratz’ BAN THIS BOOK: The Journey of a Quiet Hero

Before I plunged myself so deeply into picture books, I was struggling with a middle grade book in which the hero was too quiet, too passive. There was a big disconnect between the “flavor” of the boy in my mind and the actions I was trying to make him do on the page. In part, this was definitely my difficulty with writing character-driven plots, but it was also that I could never figure out what this quiet, gentle boy would actually do to make trouble.

Recently, I read Alan Gratz’ Ban This Book. The hero in Ban This Book, Amy Anne Ollinger, wants nothing more than to curl up with a book whenever and wherever she possibly can. She speaks, but never the words (the truth) that she is thinking. That is, not until she finds out that her favorite book has been “removed from” the school library.

Three you have it: The inciting incident. Does Amy Anne jump right over the threshold, leaving the ordinary world behind her without a thought? Of course not. There has to be a push-pull at the threshold and, for Amy Anne, there is no question that her first answer to the call will be to refuse it.

But I’m getting ahead of myself (and of Amy Anne). Ban This Book is the perfect journey for a quiet, passive hero. I spent three hours last weekend breaking down that journey (and, frankly, the whole plot). I’ve got the chart stashed for when I head back to my own book, but I want to do a blog post that identifies and describes the fundamental steps Amy Anne takes on her hero’s journey. (Or that does this as well as I could!)

Heads up: the post is going to be a REALLY long one, so I’m not going to put in examples—but, hey, you can go get the book and read it for yourself! Oh, also, there will be spoilers, so you may actually want to read the book first, then come back here. (Or, you know, just read the book and enjoy it!)

Anyway, for those of you who might actually want several pages of craft analysis, here we go.

The Ordinary World (1): As I said above, Amy Anne’s ordinary world is one in which she thinks one thing and speaks another. And the words she does speak are never the truth.

Gratz starts by showing us this world at Amy Anne’s school. We see Amy Anne hide what she is thinking right in Chapter 1, rather than tell her friend, Rebecca, that she isn’t interested in the story of Morgan Freeman law suit over a domain name. She lies that she has to return her library books and escapes.

The Inciting Incident: Mrs. Spencer, one of the mothers at the school, complains about some books, including Amy Anne’s favorite, and the school board tells the librarian, Mrs. Jones, that she has to take them off the shelves. One of the books is From the Mixed-up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frankweiler, Amy Anne’s favorite.

The Call to Adventure: Mrs. Jones asks Amy Anne to come to the school board meeting and speak about why she loves The Mixed-up Files. Obviously, Amy Anne doesn’t want to stand up in front of a bunch of people and talk. But she can’t explain why to Mrs. Jones. All she can get out is, “Okay.”

The Ordinary World (2): Up until the book banning, it’s relatively easy for Amy Anne to stay quiet at school. Rebecca is her only friend, and Rebecca likes to hear herself talk. In Amy Anne’s home, though, things are different. And harder. Her parents are both busy people, and Amy Anne has two younger sisters who are really good at saying what they want—loudly and with tantrums. She has pretty much given up speaking truth at home—other than some under-her-breath muttering and the occasional explosion. As the story progresses, the muttering gets louder and the explosions more frequent.

Refusing the Call: In a beautiful one-step forward, two steps back pattern, Amy Anne manages to say that she needs a ride to the board meeting and to push hard enough that her dad makes time to take her. But Amy Anne can’t make herself stand up at the meeting, let alone say a single world. And on the way home, when her dad’s irritation at the “wasted” time upsets her, he stops at the bookstore and buys Amy Anne her own copy of The Mixed-up Files. She can now back even further away from speaking—she can bury herself in her book and bury the truth (from herself) that the library copy is still banned.

Threshold: Amy Anne’s crossing of the threshold is about as far as is possible from Dorothy’s tornado or even Bilbo’s running out of the house without a handkerchief. The crossing happens at school, because—sadly, but very realistically—allies come to her side more quickly there than they do at home. And she crosses so gently, so quietly, that nobody—least of all Amy Anne—recognizes the step she has taken. She tells Rebecca about The Mixed-up Files, and Rebecca asks if she can read it. Again, Amy Anne gets out only a single word—another, “Okay.” This okay, though, sets off a chain of book loans and book borrowings that gradually and eventually builds up as much force as that boulder in the first Indiana Jones movie—the one that pretty much destroys the temple. Watch out school board. Watch out, Mrs. Spencer.

Allies and Enemies: As we step into the middle of the book, the beauty of what Alan Gratz is doing becomes clear. As the kids in the school find out about the books being banned and the books being shared around, they want in. Through a combination of friendship and pure book love, Amy Anne becomes the surprised leader of an underground library—she keeps stacks of books in her locker, tracks who checks out each book and who is waiting for it, and posts secret signs so the other kids can see what’s available.

An Underground Library.

Could there be a better way for a quiet, passive hero to come into her power? Book requests are made through notes passed in class, and book exchanges are made in whispers at Amy Anne’s locker. Her words have to stay few to keep hidden what she is doing, but they have to speak truth—otherwise, nobody will be able to check out the books. And what Amy Anne is learning is that not only does she love books, but she wants others to have the opportunity to love them. The board is still controlling Mrs. Jones, but they can’t control Amy Anne.

Well, not for a while. Amy Anne doesn’t just have allies, of course; she also has enemies—Mrs. Spencer, the Board, and Principal Banazewski. Amy Anne takes bigger and bigger risks (The Approach to the Innermost Cave, she gets caught, and she is suspended (The Crisis). Amy Anne, the girl who has always been so quiet that she was barely seen, has to leave school for three days.

The Innermost Cave: Amy Anne has probably spoken to more kids in the past weeks than she has in her entire school career. She has spoken out to the principal and, more than usual, to her parents. And she has been making a pretty loud statement with her library. However, during the suspension, she retreats back into silence. She thinks plenty, probably more than at the start of the book, but she says none of it out loud. Despite her parents (finally!) being ready to listen, Amy Anne can barely get any words out, let alone the ones she needs to express the injustice, anger, and fear she is feeling. And then, just before she heads back to school, she finds out that that Mrs. Jones has been fired. That innermost cave is dark.

Reward: What’s waiting for Amy-Anne when she comes back? A locker that isn’t empty (as she expected), but is instead filled with notes from the other students. Amy Anne’s words have built the friendships that will support her through the last pieces of her journey. These friendships are the talisman that she can now carry with her to fix the world.

Refusal of the Return: But not yet. The kids welcome her back, with the expectation that she will once again step into her leadership role—that she will have a plan to get Mrs. Jones re-hired and to get all the books back on the library shelves. She wants to tell them that’s not possible and to demand why they think she knows how to do this. But she only says, “I—I don’t know.” Back to quiet, back to the opposite of action. But, now, the words she does manage to speak are the truth.

The Road Back: With help from her friends, and from the two boys who were “enemies,” Amy Anne figures out what to do. Mrs. Spencer has bypassed the process for determining whether a book should be removed from the shelves—she has not completed a single Request for Reconsideration form. Amy Anne and her friends decide to fill out a form for every book in the library and to take the forms to the next board meeting. By requesting that every book in the library be banned, they will show how arbitrary and unfair Mrs. Spencer’s demands have been. They fill out 500 forms. In secret, of course.

Climax: And then Amy Anne’s littlest sister shreds every one of those forms. (She is playing at being a pony, and she needs fresh hay.) The forms are gone, all the kids’ works is destroyed, and the board meeting is the next evening.

Resurrection:Finally (after the biggest explosion of all), Amy Anne talks to her parents. She explains enough that her mom prints out 1,000 more forms. And then Amy Anne (in homage to her hero, Claudia, in The Mixed-up Files) runs away. All the way to the girls’ bathroom at school. She and Rebecca hide out in the bathroom all the next day, while student after student comes in to get forms to fill out. The first forms were filled out by Amy Anne and her friends. Now the whole school gets in on it—the underground movement has spread to every grade. More forms are copied; more forms are completed. Rebecca even gets to use her legal skills on Principal Banazewski. and by the end of the day, Amy Anne’s team has thousands of forms to take to the board meeting.

Return with the Elixir: The forms are the elixir, right? No, they aren’t. The elixir is the self-confidence that Amy Anne has built over the whole story—the self-confidence that lets her talk at the second board meeting. All the eloquence we have seen in her thoughts come out in the speech she gives. And, because she has always known how to read deeply, Amy Anne has the weapon she needs to stop any last arguments Mrs. Spencer might have. That weapon is a piece of truth (NOT spoiling this one) that Amy Anne has kept completely to herself, even hiding it from the reader. She mixes it with a bit of kindness, and Mrs. Spencer’s banning is done.

This is Amy Anne fixing the ordinary world of her school. Gratz’ circles back to the ordinary world of her home, as well, but—again—this is a spoiler I’m not sharing. You still have to read the book!

Lucky you. From another author, this book could have been a simple paean to reading and an argument against book banning. And I would have read it and liked it, because, hey: me + books = <3. But with Alan Gratz’ craft¸ it is the story of a girl who comes out of the tight, little box of a world she has been living in and finds the strength and skills to build herself a world that is expansive and happy. And she does it all with tiny, tentative steps and a quiet determination that surprises everyone—herself most of all.

Posted in Plot, The Writing Path

There’s Plotting and there’s Planning…and Then There are Surprises

I’m a plotter, never a pantser. Would I love to be (more of) a pantser. Oh, heck, yes. In writing and in life. In life, I’m a planner, although I will stake a claim to have loosened up at least somewhat in the last decade or so. But I love and use lists and calendars, and if they’re not crutches, they are definitely tools.

Still, I’m learning to welcome surprises, even when they sneak up on me without too much warning. As I headed into Asilomar two Fridays away, I knew that I hadn’t really identified what I wanted to get out of the conference. I had hopes and dreams, as we always do, but I hadn’t done much visualization or intentionalizing–probably fear of failing at those dreams was getting in my way. It turned out well, though, because the big surprise (for me) was how resoundingly I responded to all the motivational and dream-based talks I hears. Typically, I am looking and hoping for craft support–specific writing tools and how-to’s. I surprised myself with some of my workshop choices, and I surprised myself by how well I came back from down moments and by how deep into my heart I felt the happiness of the weekend.

When I look at where I am on my writing path, there are surprises there. Oh, sure, there are some that feel more like disappointment than happiness, but there are some pretty good ones, too. If you’d told me ten years ago, even five, that I’d have switched my agent search from agents who represent Middle Grade and Young Adult to those who rep MG and picture books? I’d probably have laughed, you know, in a nice way. Picture books? Seriously?

Well, yeah. I started that part of my journey while I was writing The Writing & Critique Group Survival Guide, with an idea that I wanted to follow through outside the book. And now I have four picture books that, well, while they’re not as ready as I thought they were before last weekend, they’re pretty darned good and I am definitely in love with them. With the characters, the stories, and–oh, yeah–the writing process of bringing them together. Young adult? Doesn’t feel like anything I want or need to be writing. Twists and turns, and surprises.

Who knew? When I started this blog, I knew logically that the writing path I was going to talk about would be one of curves and hills, fallen trees and patches of quicksand. But as I move along it, continuing the climb, I understand the challenges of the route at a deeper level. And I know, too, that there’s always the possibility I’ll come around a corner and catch a glimpse of a rainbow, maybe even the shimmer of that pot of gold.

Because there are always surprises.

Posted in Blog Contest, Plot

Martha Alderson: The Plot Whisperer Blog Tour, Day 3

I count myself lucky in many ways. A big one of those ways is all the amazing people that my writing has brought into my life. And one of those people is Martha Alderson.

You probably know her better as The Plot Whisperer.

Martha and I met over ten years ago, in the first critique group I joined when I moved up to the Bay Area. If you’d asked either of us back then if we thought we’d write books about writing, I think we would have laughed pretty hard. I don’t know, though–one of the things I love the most about Martha is that she always dreams…and dreams big. So the fact that she has just published her second book on writing–or to be more specific–on plot, should be no surprise. And if you’ve followed her tweets at @plotwhisperer, you’re not surprised either. In fact, you probably can’t wait to read the book!

Well, you’ve come to the right place. (Okay, you’ve come to one of the right places. Tomorrow, the blog tour stops at Not an Editor, where Mary Baader Kaley is also having a giveaway. And check out Martha’s blog for a complete list of her blog tour stops and other chances to win a copy.) I’ve got TWO copies of The Plot Whisperer: Secrets of Story Structure Any Writer Can Master to give away. I usually run my contests for a while, but I’m keeping this one short so you’ll have time to enter all the other contests, too.  I’ll draw the winners Thursday night and announce them Friday morning. Make sure to stop back!

Let me tell you a little bit about Martha. Yes, she dreams, but she does more than that. She continuously shares that dream with others. Martha understand plot, but–as she’ll tell you–it’s an understanding she worked to reach, so she absolutely gets how those of who are not so good at plotting feel.  Because of this, her advice is always sympathetic and supportive, but it’s also strong. One of the best things about having had Martha as a critique partner is that she never gets lost in the words, in the stuff that fills in and layers around the plot points. Every time Martha has read a piece I’ve written, or done a plot planner for one of my stories, she has zeroed right in on the big pieces of the plot. Sometimes, it’s the lack of those pieces, but one of the best things Martha ever said to me was, “This has too many plots. It’s too crowded.”

Guess what? She was right.

Martha believes in plot. She recognizes that there are many writers who worry that, by plotting, they’ll make their story stiff or formulaic. She recognizes and respects that fear, but she also reassures us–rightly, I think–that the plot is the container, the structure, that holds all the magic we could ever want to write. And she coaches us through all the steps of creating that plot.

I bought Martha’s first book, Blockbuster Plots: Pure and Simple, when it came out. And last night, I drove over the hill to attend Martha’s launch party at Capitola Book Cafe and buy her new book. I talked earlier about this week how I’m struggling with plot on this WIP. I’m thinking it’s pretty nice of Martha to publish The Plot Whisperer just when I need it.

That’s just how she is!

I’m not doing NaNoWriMo, but I know a lot of you are. You’ve still got time to do a little pre-plotting and, even as you write as speedily as possible, you can be thinking about story. If you haven’t checked out Martha’s YouTube series on plot, do so now. And leave a comment for this post to enter my giveaway copy of The Plot Whisperer. (If your comment ID doesn’t include an email, please leave that in the comment as well, so I can let you know if you’re the winner!)

Good luck!

Posted in Character, Plot

Plot-Driven vs. Character-Driven

Warning: This post may be a bit rambly and confusing.

It’s one of those where I’m going to be thinking as I type, trying to figure out a few things. I can’t tell you yet whether the post will end with a conclusion or a questions. Or a dozen questions. Oh, well. Feel free to come along for the ride.

As a reader, I’m all about character–in terms of WHY I’m in the book. I love to lose myself in personalities–the people who are quirky, angry, effervescent, stuck, free, stubborn, searching…you name it. And I love to see all these personalities come into contact with each other: interaction and conflict. The dynamics of any mix you want to throw together on the page–that’s what I want to read about.

Which means that, as a reader, I want the plot done really well. I do NOT want to be aware of it. I don’t want something so convoluted and tricky that I get caught up in WHAT is happening and pulled away from WHO it’s happening to. Yes, of course, I’ve read strongly plotted books, and I’ve loved them–I can admire the author, and I get caught up in a great story, just like anyone else. But…if I have to pick, I’d rather get caught up in the characters.

I think this is one reason I like mysteries. I know–here’s the rambly, confusing part. Mysteries ARE plot, right? But, in general, the basics of that plot are steps I know: Murder or some other crime occurs. Detective takes on case. Detective hunts down clues, bugs people, eavesdrops and breaks into necessary buildings. Detective gets close, gets beat up or shot at, wonders despairingly if this is THE case that will finally stump her. Detective gets the last piece of the puzzle, adds it all up, and catches the bad guy. Detective probably solves or moves to a new place on some personal problem as well. Yes, I’m being tongue-in-cheek here, because a good detective story is much more than these parts, but you know what I mean. If the author is a strong writer, you’re watching and thinking about the specific details of a plot you know, not working to follow the pattern of the plot.

My first book is a mystery. I loved writing it. Because–guess what? As a writer, plot is not my strength. (Anyone else see a connection here?) When I wasn’t sure where to go next, what to make happen, I’d look at the suspects and think about who my MC needed to investigate next. I’d think about the last clue and see where my hero needed to follow it. Had he been open and direct in his last attempt to solve the crime? Maybe it was time for some sneakiness. Because I knew that basic plot of the mystery, I was able to play with voice and humor and adventure and an irritating sidekick.

Of course, that book hasn’t sold.

This new book, the YA historical, is so different. It’s going to be one of those other books–the ones with characters you love and love to hate. It’s going to be one where the personalities clash, where the people struggle with trying to make their relationship work and pretty much fail, and all those conflicts along the way.

Do you see how dull that paragraph sounds? That’s because, yes, without plot, character is…meh. And see that last phrase…”all those conflicts?” Yeah, tell me about those conflicts.

No, really, please. Tell me about those conflicts. Give me some plot, will you?

I always hear that, in a character-driven novel, the actions and problems arise out of…yes, you got it: character. What a character will do in any given situation comes from that character’s personality. Yes, those things I love so much as a reader. But in terms of writing about them–well, it feels so much more like guesswork. When I was writing the mystery, I could say to myself: “Self, MC needs to find out about Bad-Guy #3.” Then self would go off and write  about MC “finding out,” making sure MC did that in his own special way.

In this character-driven book, I’m more like, “Self: MC needs to….???????!!!!!!!??????!!!!!!” With a few $*(%#*(#%))#@# thrown in for good measure.

Obviously, the idea of a plot-driven book as a separate thing from a character-driven book is some kind of joke.

Because, yes, we all really know it. Plot and character are so NOT separate issues. The plot does depend on who your hero and your bad guys and your sidekicks are. And the character does completely depend on what happens in this particular story about these particular people. And clearly, just because I’m not writing a mystery, and it’s not obvious that this MC has to go follow that guy down the alley and listen in on his conversation with the elephant trainer–I still need that plot to help figure out my characters.

I guess the conclusion (yay!) is that I have some more learning to do. I guess each book we take on, if we’re lucky, makes that demand on us–to push past the stage of the writing craft we’ve made it to so far, to stretch ourselves to take on the next thing we need to figure out. As tough as this is, as frustrating as it can be, I think it’s also where some of our hope has to lie. If there is more we can do, more craft we can practice, then our writing can get stronger. Better.

So here’s to plot and character. And, appropriately enough for a Monday, here’s to all the torture and agony they cause us!

Posted in Plot

I’m on Page WHAT?!

I wrote a fun scene the other day. One of those BIG scenes–when things turn in a different direction for your hero. When your hero turns things in a different direction. It was rough. I knew I still had a long way to go to turn it into the scene it ultimately needs to be (not like I can’t say that about EVERY scene I’m writing these days!). But I’d made one change in how my hero was approaching the moment, and it felt like the right change. It felt like I was putting something important on ground.

So, happily, I printed out the scene & stuck it in my binder and backed up the file. And then I happened to take a look at the page count. (I know, word-count is cooler, but my brain still wants to wrap itself around the placement of scenes in the pages I turn in a printed, published book.)

145 pages.

Okay, sure, it felt good in a way. 145 pages is a nice, little pile. It’s a good way into a project. It’s proof of productivity.

It’s also WAY too far into the story for this scene to be happening. We’re talking YA here–which means 145 pages is, unhappily, over halfway through the book. And this scene does NOT take place halfway through the book. Or it shouldn’t.

No, I don’t have the scene in the wrong place. It’s not that I need to mix things up and rearrange. It’s that I am facing the fact of how much cutting I’m going to be doing in the next draft.

I’m not panicking. Not yet. Not really.

Well, maybe a little.

I’m still writing forward, and I’m not going to stop. But I’m going to do a few things along the way, too.

I’m going to get back into reading YA, and I’m going to take a page from Kelly Fineman’s book of rereading. I tried to find the post I’m remembering, but couldn’t–that’s okay, you should be reading Kelly’s blog, anyway, so you can go hunt it down if you want! But, SOMEWHERE, Kelly talks about rereading, which she sometimes does the minute she’s finished a book. The point, though, is that she rereads for many reasons, but the one that I think is the most important for me to take away is that it helps you see HOW the author is doing something. You’ve got the story down, you just read it, so you’re less immersed in what’s-going-to-happen-next and more available to wow-how-did-she-get-all-that-into-a-four-page-scene. (Or in the case of Kathryn Fitzmaurice’s wonderful soon-to-be-published A Diamond in the Desert, a half-page!) Kelly, if I’m getting this wrong, come slap some sense into me in the comments! ANYWAY, I’m going to pick a few well-done YAs with short chapters and do some studying. Not copying, people, studying. I want to find a structure, a voice, a way of telling that works for me and Caro.

And if anybody has any titles to suggest for this exercise, please drop them into the comments…with my thanks!

I’ve opened up a Scrivener folder in my Draft 3 project called BIG PLOTTING STUFF. So far there are two cards in there: ACCIDENT and QUITS. (Yes, I have more on my actual cards, but you don’t get the secrety things until the book is published!) And I’m going to add some bulleted steps for cause and effect to each of these cards. For instance, you might see this on one card:

Boy mentions party.
C decides to go to party.
Mom says no.
C runs into street.

ACCIDENT

C is hit by train.
Boy brings chocolates.
Mom weeps.
C wins Olympic gold medal.

No, that’s not what you do see on my card; again, it’s what you might see. You know, if there were any Olympic games in my WIP. I’m just going to try and get an idea of what leads up to each big event and what each big event causes to happen afterward. Each of those lesser events might turn out to be an entire scene, or they might all get blended into one scene. I don’t know. And I won’t know for quite a while, I’m sure. But it’s going to start me thinking about what’s smaller and what’s more important, and how much time I need to spend on it all.

Hopefully.

Oh, you know, this may just be another way to procrastinate, to try and get control of something that needs to remain nebulous for a while longer. But maybe it’s me coming at a tricky project in a new way, applying a process I haven’t tried before. And maybe it’ll help.

We can only try, right?

Do you tend to write long or short in your early drafts? What do you do when it’s time to cut or expand?

Posted in Plot

Surprise!

I talk often to other writers about plotting. And not-plotting. And how much we do. And whether it’s an outline or a chart. And so on and so on…

If you read my blog at all, this probably isn’t news to you, but I’ll put it out here anyway. Hi, I’m Becky, and I’m a plotter.

I plot a lot–from the overall story arc to what’s going to happen in any individual scene. I don’t tackle a revision without looking at my existing plot and seeing where I need to make changes. And then I do it all over again as I revise each scene.

Yes, it’s about control. I need some sense of where I’m going, before I start trying to get there. I’m sure that I need a stronger sense of that than a lot of writers.

BUT…

I truly believe that understanding is what helps me loosen up as I write and let in the surprises.

And, oh, the surprises come. I’ve got a plan for my hero to argue, and instead she goes stone-cold silent with anger. I figure out which character is going to create an obstacle, and suddenly that character is all support and friendship, while someone else steps up to punch my hero in the gut. I pick a setting for its peacefulness and calm, and suddenly all hellamundo is breaking loose.

Yes, there are surprises that aren’t so wonderful: characters I forget to weave into the story who stand there like cold statues, doing nothing. Gaps where I realize I’ve leapt way too far ahead, without building to my hero’s choice or action. And of course, those moments where I realize–oh, BLEEP!–that history doesn’t support the storyline I’ve got going.

Those surprises, I believe, are the cost of leaving room for the others. If it were even possible for me to plot so tightly that I wouldn’t run into any dead-ends, or twisty mazes, I don’t think my characters would have room to step in and take charge. I don’t think they’d be able to shout loud enough to get my attention.

I’m not going to get her wording right, I’m sure, but Martha Alderson talks about plot as the vessel that exists to catch your inspiration. Yes, my plot-box probably has more sections than yours.

Maybe your plot has a beginning, a great crisis, and three bad things across the middle. Maybe you’re one of those writers I so envy who create a seriously strong one-sentence premise and write from that. Maybe your container looks more like this:

 Whatever we use, however much we plot, I really believe it’s all good. Whatever you have that gives you the freedom to let the words come, keep using it. And enjoy the surprises!

Posted in Plot

Moving Forward: When to Let Go of Plotting

Everybody has their own style of writing. We talk a lot about plotters and pantsers, but-just like anything in the world–these are pretty black-and-white divisions. I admit I’m more of a plotter than most writers I know–I love the feeling of creating the puzzle pieces before I get started with decorating them. I love to see the points connecting, building the structure around which I’ll layer and weave.

Even I, though, know there’s a time to let go of the plotting and write. I’m coming up on it now–I can see that by next week, I’ll be putting scenes on paper. I have a feeling, despite the varied way we come at these things, that the feelings that push us into writing are pretty similar.

Here’s how I know it’s time:

  • I have plotted, at some level, to the end of the story. (For you pantsers, this might mean you now know the opening scene, the ending, and a few big scenes in between, right?)
  • I have some sense, stronger than in the previous draft, of who my characters are, what they want, and what they’ll do to get that.
  • I find myself, as I plot scenes, throwing in sentences, even paragraphs, into the outlines and bulleted lists. Words are starting to come, whether or not I’m asking them to.
  • I start to see images in my mind of places and people. I get snapshots of moments–a lot like what happens when you freeze a Netflix download to get up for another cookie.
  • I go back to scenes I’ve plotted and throw in reminders that will help me weave in some of the less major plot threads–don’t forget to have Grandma tell them about X, make sure Y shows up in this scene to do SOMETHING.
  • My brain (and fingers) get a strong itch to open a new file (or in this case, Scrivener text item) and head it…Scene 01.

If you’re a plotter, when do you know that you’re “ready” to stop the plotting and start the writing? If you’re a pantser, what do you need, absolutely, to know before you write?

Posted in Character, Plot, Scenes

Cause: The All-Important WHY

Those of you who’ve been reading this blog for a while know I’m a plotter. I had to “pants” for a while on the first draft of this WIP, and it was not a happy place for me. Effective, yes, but not happy. So, of course, I’m in love with being back to plotting as I work on the second draft.

When I got started, I basically threw a bunch of scenes into Scrivener–things I knew needed to happen. And then I started filling in cards for them–my MC’s scene goal, the obstacles she’d face, and a few details that I wanted to weave in. I took a break from this story to get that picture-book revision done, but now I’m back and I’m trying to tie these scenes together with a bit more connectivity. In other words, I’m figuring out why one scene follows another. Why my character does things. What causes her actions.

I’m big on this when I critique–I tend to push people to really look at the character actions and connect them to the story, ground them in something specific that has actually happened. And I love the magic of staring at a scene in my own work, knowing I’m not there yet, and then…Flash! The lightbulb goes on, and I’ve got it.

It’s easy, when we write, to know the big stuff–the major plot points that will lead to the ending, that will build to the crisis and the character change. In between those plot points, though, is a lot of space. Yes, it can be maddeningly vast and intimidating, but it’s actually there for a reason. It’s where you build to each of those big events, where you layer in the smaller things that show us who your character is, that push her in new directions, and that–yes–cause the big things to happen.

Let’s take an example. Say you’re writing about a teenage boy–Clive–who is about to get his driver’s license. You know that, oddly enough, Clive doesn’t want to drive. So, he’s going to miss his driving test. Fine. Good. Plot point. If you’re one of those amazing people who can write scenes out of order, you write that scene. (If not, you put notes about it into a Scrivener note card!) Just as his dad is coming upstairs to get him for the appointment, Clive climbs out his bedroom window and down the rose trellis. Except the trellis breaks, and so does Clive’s arm. Dad’s truck is a stick-shift. Clive has successfully delayed the inevitable.

Why?

You can start with the general. Let’s say, really early in the book, Clive sees someone die in a horrible accident. Okay–there’s your big why–that’s the reason Clive doesn’t want to drive. But you can’t just let us know this and then, ten scenes later, pop Clive out his window. You have to do some set up. You need to show Clive trying to talk to his parents about not driving and getting no support. You need to show him in driver’s training failing dismally at parallel parking. You could, of course, throw in the ghost of the dead drive who makes Clive relive the crash over and over. You should probably let us know about that rose trellis before the big day, maybe show Clive using it safely when he sneaks out to ask his girlfriend to run away with him.

These are all good. You need to take it one step further, though. You need to determine the single, very specific story moment that sends Clive out that window. You can’t just have his worry build and build over scenes and then–on that day–out he goes. Something concrete has to propel him into action. Like…his dad coming upstairs and “jokingly” waving around the belt he hit Clive with when Clive was a little boy. Or his mom showing him the new wallet she bought him, with the space for his driver’s license, then telling him it’s time to go. Or his irritating sister singing “Little Deuce Coupe” over and over, as she dances back and forth outside his bedroom door and blocks his escape route.

Notice that the action-causing events aren’t always that big a deal, although–yeah–that belt could be pretty intense. These things act as a catalyst for the big action; they’re the match you drop onto the pile of gunpowder. Small, inexpensive, available…but absolutely necessary set things off.

They’re the whys.

Posted in Character, Plot, Writer's Block

Today, Character Definitely Comes Before Plot

When I finished the first draft of my WIP and after I did the happy dance, I decided I was going to do some major plotting before I started on Draft 2. I had spent enough time with that exploratory first draft and now I wanted structure. Big time.

So I opened Scrivener and I started tossing in scenes, and I was happily and busily adding cards to my corkboard.

Until…I wasn’t.

As happens all too frequently, I ran out of scenes–I ran out of ideas for scenes. When I hit this spot, I go back to character. My exploratory draft made me familiar with each of my characters in a sort of gray, blobby, nebulous way, but did not really put me in touch with what they want, why it matters, and–most important–what actions they’ll take to try and get there.

Today, I started working on the father character, someone I love a lot, but, no…don’t really understand. And I was drawing a blank, but taking a stab at who he might be and what his goal could possibly become, and I was only getting so far until…

I realized I was giving him a goal very similar to the goal of my MC’s would-be boyfriend. Oops. I almost gave up then, because you can’t have too characters with the same personalities and same needs, right? Wait…what if they start at the same point, but end up changing in very different ways–one much more successfully than the other? Then what you’ve got is…such a lovely word: CONTRAST! I mean we’re talking about the two men in the book, both of whose goals revolve around loving a woman (different women!), and we’re looking at one generation following the other and needing to do things very differently.

Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding!

From here, things took off–this glimpse of similar goals with different paths led me deeper and deeper into who these men are, who they need to be, and which–if either–is going to succeed. Along with why. And guess what…

Character led to plot.

I’ve set up maybe a half-dozen more scenes this morning and moved at least that many more around on my corkboard, because–as one thing happens, it sets off another. And when that thing happens, it sends something else into a new spot. And so on and so on and so on….

This, to me, is one of the best cures for writer’s block, backing up to the who ARE these people and what the BLEEP do they want? Yes, it involves some fixed-and-dilated starting at the computer. Yes, it means resisting the impulse to pound your head against your keyboard. Eventually, though, the wall cracks, and a brick falls down and then another brick and, finally, the story starts to come.

And, of course, that brings on yet another dance of joy.

Here’s hoping the productivity fairy zings her wand over your writing space today!

Posted in First Drafts, Plot, Revision

This is My Brain. This is My Brain on Plot.

This post is dedicated to Terri Thayer, for listening and not once telling me I’m crazy.

What my brain tells me when I announce that, in the second draft of this WIP, we may be dropping one entire, MAJOR plotline:

  • Wow!
  • Wouldn’t this be a betrayal of Character X? Who just happens to have been a real person in real life that you totally love and admire and want to write about?
  • Hold on!  Does that mean you don’t have to finish the 1st draft??!!!
  • You could buy fewer index cards for the re-plotting party.
  • You’d be writing less broadly and more deeply. That would be a good thing.
  • Are you just copping out? Is this just the cowardly easy easier road to take?
  • Does this mean you’re thinking of a second book? Another historical fiction? You swore there’d be no more historical fiction!
  • You’ll cry more, if you write it this way.
  • This story is supposed to be about the girl and her mother. Have you seen the mother on the page yet? No, you haven’t. Because that other plotline keeps getting in the way. Get back to the mother.
  • You’ve written almost 250 pages, and now you’re telling me it’s a different story?

What I tell my brain:

  • Shut up and let me write.